Month to year. Defense of Sevastopol. 1853—1855. Eastern War. Love and death do not know barriers

Аcquaintance

They rode in silence, and the huntsman looked anxiously at the pale young man, but still sitting firmly in the saddle. Finally, they quickly drove past the yard, and drove into the side gate. Mikhail ran into the bathroom house, and began to quickly take off his jacket and shirt, and began to wash blood from his forearm and chest. This was a long and unpleasant procedure.

But now, he saw through the window quickly going to the pavilion Artamon Grigorievich Nikolaev and Yakim Voinov. The door creaked, and finally the long-awaited doctor came in.

– Hello, Misha, – Nikolaev greeted, – let’s see what happened to you.

– Thanks for coming.

– Father has arrived, is already waiting. Yard boys noticed you that you were covered in blood, came running… Cloak did not throw, head…

– Damn… How is grandfather?

“I went to look at the bear. Angry, but also proud. I don’t even understand what is more. So we went to dinner, as here we will end with your wound. They promise pudding for dessert, – Artamon Grigorievich finished with feeling.

The doctor, albeit already quite middle-aged, but with the right hands, however, now with glasses in a gold frame on the bridge of his nose. He unwound the rag on the wound and set to work. The skin was sewn up, herbs were applied, and clean rags covered the sore spot. Artamon poured balm into the glass and gave it to the young man.

– It will heal in three weeks,” Artamon Grigorievich reassured, “look in the mirror as you did.” Lyubo-expensive, as he tried for himself.

– Thanks.

He trusted the surgeon, but I wanted to look at his work. In the mirror, the wound no longer seemed so terrible, the seams tightened the edges of the cuts from the bear claws. The slightly oozing blood attracted a look, the doctor bandaged the wound, and the young hunter put on a linen shirt and a velvet jacket, fastening it with buttons.

– And pants, master, – noted Yakim, – in suede is completely unnatural.

Zalepsky nodded, and slightly grimacing in pain, changed his hunting pants to cloth pantaloons.

– Let’s go to dinner,” the doctor said, washing his hands in the washbasin, “it’s time to go if you don’t want your father to send for you.”

– Let’s go, – said the cheerful Mikhail, – it seems that his shoulder does not hurt, – and he twisted his hand a little and nodded gratefully to Artamon.

The young man looked in the mirror, checked the sleeve, was afraid that the blood would stain the jacket. The doctor just shook his head, and gathered his tools into a bag and went after the bandaged hero. They quickly walked along the path to the manor house, the doctor removed their supplies, and they went up to the dining room.

The table was already set, and the family was sitting, waiting for the birthday boy. Two grandfathers, father and mother. True, Mikhail did not see the one he expected at the festive table.

– He appeared all the same, – the father strictly remarked to his son, – the hand hurts a lot? – he remarked sympathetically.

– You were asked not to be heroic, – my grandfather, Ivan Ivanovich, said quietly, – you have responsibilities. You have no brothers, you must be careful.

– It’s okay, so, scratch…

– Your father, here, wrote out a camera for duggerotypes. The latest model. They will bring it soon. The gift will be for his birthday, however, a little later, – said another grandfather, slowly starting the roast.

Mikhail Petrovich was old, but cheerful beyond his years. So he was engaged in the grain trade, but looked closely, as if to make it smarter to do with flax too. The land here is inexpensive, so Rusov gradually bought up suitable land for this. And although the matter is not easy, considerable profits were expected. The old man loved, besides commerce, very much the long-awaited grandson, otherwise his son-in-law and daughters had only three daughters, Vera, Nadezhda and Lyubov. But they were already married, and only sometimes came to visit. But the grandfather was educated, and he read magazines, adored all sorts of novelties, and was not indifferent to weapons, especially richly decorated ones.

– Come, Mikhail, here are gifts from me, – and grandfather, smiling enough, put first a heavy wooden box in front of his grandson.

“What’s in there?” the grandson asked, not knowing what to think.

Grandfather lifted the lid triumphantly. Sofya Mikhailovna, mother, only sighed, and turned away… Dmitry Ivanovich, father, also looked without looking up from the curiosity. Inside, on the felt, lay a pistol of a new design, an unfamiliar look. Attention was drawn to a cylindrical convex object, right behind the barrel of a newfangled weapon.

“Why is that?” – the grandson was surprised, reddened with joy, immediately took out a dangerous toy.

“A gun, or rather a Colt revolver. It is called “Sea,” – said Mikhail Petrovich.

– It would be better to paint, but gave an easel, – sighing. Sofya Mikhailovna spoke.

– And I bought a fitting, – Rusov finished stubbornly, – a new invention. With a chamber shutter! – and he pointedly raised his finger up, – As in the guard, the same major Ramzai suggested to Tsar Nikolai Pavlovich. But, this is not at the table, of course to show.

True, the grandfather could not resist, and everything boasted of gifts and the young man picked up a rare contraption. Weighing eleven pounds, the barrel, understandably like a hunting rifle, was not removed from the stock. And there was no mahogany, no rosewood or even oak. A simple Russian birch went to the stock and bed. And the antapki and the belt were present – not for the lordly fun was made. Mikhail Dmitrievich respectfully stroked the nozzle, and was surprised at the charging chamber.

– Not to charge from the muzzle, and you don’t need to wave a hammer, I inserted the charge into the chamber, directed it with a lever, the capsule is all and done! Yakim! Take it to the master in the room, put it in the armory, but close it. You’ll give me the key. Sit down, everything is cold, – he turned to his grandson.

But the young man enthusiastically studied the revolver. I looked at the instructions, realized how it was charging – gunpowder, bullets and wads were placed in the drum, it was crushed by the under-barrel lever. Sensible thing! Six charges at hand!

– Michael! – the mother noticed more strictly, – and rinse your hands.

The son nodded, and washing his hands, wiping them off with a napkin, sat down at the table, moving the dish towards him. The servant poured into a glass of wine, and the roast itself asked for a plate. But Michael sighed, and quietly asked his father:

– I asked Masha to call…

– Yes they go, don’t worry so, will be in half an hour. And they sat down without them – and it’s not the case to be late.

But now, the butler came in and announced loudly:

– Mr. Terentyev Petr Fedorovich with his wife Elizaveta Vasilyevna and daughter Maria Petrovna arrived.

Mikhail jumped up from the table, and took a quick step into the ceremonial canopy. Cloaks and capes were taken by the Zalepsky footman, the servant and maid of the Terentyevs were taken to the people. The Terentyevs were dressed much more modestly than the Zalepskys, but very neatly and well-groomed, this family did not have much land and wealth.

And the younger Zalepsky, smiling, approached Peter Fedorovich.

– Come in, very glad you arrived. And you, Elizaveta Vasilievna, and you, Maria Petrovna.

The young man kissed the ladies’ hands like a well-mannered man, and Masha herself sat down in Kniksen. The girl also smiled happily.

– Happy birthday, Mikhail, a gift from us, – and Terentyev gave a bundle in beautiful paper.

– Come on in, please! ‘the youngster suggested.

The footman opened the doors, the guests walked ahead, Mikhail lagged behind, and nodded to Maria. From the table stood the cordial owner of the house, Dmitry Ivanovich, and himself, personally, sat the guests at the dining table.

Two grandfathers did not look very approvingly at those who came, until Sophia whispered in her father’s ear. Rusov suddenly smiled, as if he saw a fried ham, and the first turned to Terentyev:

– Petr Fedorovich, here, taste the liqueurs. I put it myself…

– Why?” I will be glad, – the guest agreed.

***

Mikhail, or, as Masha, Michelle called him more often, did not know Maria Petrovna for a very long time. More precisely, it all happened by accident, and not at a dinner party or reception, and recently, two years ago. Then the young man was sixteen, he read the written books about the wilds of America, and was simply carried away by the exploits of the Long Carbine, Nathaniel Bumpo. I must say that my grandfather somewhere found him a similar thing, wrote it out of America. Indeed, the gun looked very strange.

And now, this gun, along with a double-barreled nozzle, was sharpened to the saddle of the hefty Thunder, his horse. The hunter was dressed accordingly, in the outfit of the conqueror of the Wild West made of leather and suede.

The companion of the young master was Yakim Voinov, written off from the regiment on indefinite leave and accepted by Zalepsky, the eldest, as a batman for his younger son. Three more former cuirassiers lived in the estate, Ivan Etskov, Fedor Grigoriev and Evgraf Kolychev, all were foresters at work. Well, they kept order. Yakim Warriors was sick, and they thought that consumption was finishing him off. But, life on the estate, and not in a cool barracks, benefited the soldier, and the former cuirassier on cranberries, herbs, after a year fully recovered. So the former guardsman became the guardian of Mikhail, the only son, the hope of the family.

Zalepsky, the youngest, traveled around the forests with the inseparable Yakim, and on the border of the estate, was surprised to meet two girls in simple clothes and baskets. No, one of them was in a better dress, and not in peasant clothes. True, the land of the Terentyevs was already nearby, and the young man who knew about boundary disputes nevertheless asked the usual:

“Whose will you be?” – this Meleager inadvertently uttered a sharp phrase, and even his dog, Red, barked clearly condemning.

The youngest jumped up from the ground, blushing like a rosehip flower, and Mikhail just looked at this girl.

– How dare you? – this nymph answered in a quiet, but deep and pleasant voice, – Ya-Maria Petrovna Terentyeva, daughter of the owner of the estate Pyotr Fedorovich Terentyev!

Yakim shook his head, the young master hurried, and as it seemed to him, did it with some grace.

– Mikhail Dmitrievich Zalepsky, the son of your neighbor, Dmitry Ivanovich Zalepsky, at your service.

Masha, looking around the attractive young man, changed her anger to mercy, gave her a kiss. And on this day, the test of the gun did not take place. Mikhail accompanied Maria Petrovna to their estate, which the peasant children were not slow to notice, and two of them rushed to the wooden wing of the manor’s house. The young man was about to sit on his heroic horse, when suddenly he was called out by a man in a dressing gown, the same trousers and a velvet hat with a brush.

– Good afternoon, would you like to have some tea? asked the occupant of the house politely, “probably tired?”

– Good afternoon, – answered Zalepsky, – I will not refuse. Yakim! Look after Thunder, and tie Red!

The youth climbed a wooden porch staircase with carved balusters, with an entrance decorated with wooden columns. The house was made in a bizarre style, a certain mixture of Russian architecture and classicism.

The house was also not too richly decorated from the inside, but in the canopy there was a clock with a pendulum and a beautiful growth mirror. The door to the young man was opened by an old smiling servant, an elderly servant in a cute peasant outfit puts a tray with cups of hot tea on the table. Warm pies, with a blush crust, from the glazed dish filled this hall with indescribable aroma. Mikhail immediately felt hungry, he had been eating for a long time. A woman was sitting at the table, probably Masha’s mother, and the girl herself. She hastily stood at the table, followed by her mother, not in a hurry. She was a prominent and beautiful woman, about forty years old.

– This is Mikhail, Mikhail Dmitrievich, – his girlfriend introduced him, – Pyotr Fedorovich, my dad, Elizaveta Vasilievna, my mother.

“Very glad,” the young man bowed and kissed the girl’s mother’s hand.

– We are very pleased with your visit, – said Terentyev, extending his hand for shaking, – taste what God sent.

Maria sat next to Mikhail, putting a treat on the dish, saying everything:

– Eat, Michelle. It’s with meat, try it. With onions and eggs, and berry. Very good.

– A rider shouldn’t overeat… And then even Thunder will be hard to wear me.

“I saw your horse. Danish breed? ‘asked the master of the estate, “Handsome! Coming to duty soon?

– I passed the exams for the gymnasium, externally, Peter Fedorovich. In a year, my father will write to the regiment to accept me as a cadet. My grandfathers are still more engaged in the household, and they serve as a family business.

– Well, who doesn’t know Rusov Mikhail Petrovich. A well-known person in the province, reversible and reasonable, – Terentyev nodded.

The porcelain of the mugs placed on the table was the simplest, the cutlery, albeit made of silver, was artless. But it was easy and pleasant here, the Terentyevs looked decent people and excellent interlocutors. They discussed everything – especially such a favorite literature, the landowners wrote out the Sovremennik magazine, so they read book novelties. In the house of the Zalepskys, “Russian Disabled” and “Exchange Statements” were honored.

Elizaveta Vasilievna poured tea to the guest every time with an indispensable smile, so the young man could not refuse another cup.

Soon the tea party ended, Michel thanked the cordial owners, and Maria decently saw off the guest, only to the door of the house. However, she managed to give a basket of pies with her, and the young man could not refuse. Yakim received his share, and from his father and mother for pies he received a tough suggestion for this treat. Not to Zalepsky’s liking were small and poor neighbors.

But, soon, the young man and the girl began to see each other very often. Forests and meadows became their meeting places. They turned out to be the same age, they were sixteen years old. In total for Michel, and already whole for Maria.

***

The Zalepsky family trusted Artamon Nikolaev very much, now a retired doctor of the Cavalier Guard regiment. He settled on the outskirts of Gdov with his wife. in a small house where he lived on retirement and the income of a medical practitioner. It was he who cured the already dying Mikhail Petrovich and Ivan Ivanovich with herbs. Consumption was not afraid of either medicine or doctors, but Artamon drove her away. Now the doctor often sat with the old people, laying out solitaire so beloved by them. And he himself was already quite middle-aged – fifty-nine years old. True, known in the regiment as almost a sorcerer, scared everyone in the house to death, or rather, only Mikhail Petrovich Rusov.

He loved old Rusov solitaire, and adored fortune-telling, even at the time when Artamon first arrived at the estate in Gdov. Then the wife of Mikhail Petrovich, the kindest Iraida Lvovna, was alive. The doctor, seeing the woman, turned pale, and did not hesitate to run to the owner of the estate. The servants could not believe their eyes when they saw how the master doctor was jumping along the corridors and stairs. He flew into the office without a report, and announced to the owner:

– Your wife is dying, you have only three months. If you give the opportunity, I can save your spouse.

– Enough for you, Mr. Nikolaev. Dmitry said that you are a magician, and he was saved from death, such a wound was healed. Yes, my Iraida Lvovna is healthy. She’s fine. No, I understand that in the war you cured many, and you are knowledgeable in medical science. But no, it can’t be! – and began to lay out the cards again.

– So you cards, more than I believe?

– Cards don’t lie…

– I will spread the deck on Iraida Lvovna?

– What? Rusov jumped up.

– As the cards say, so be it?

– Okay, – Mikhail Petrovich answered after a minute’s thought.

The doctor rolled up his sleeves, printed out the deck, and began to lay out the cards. In Rusov’s eyes it darkened, and he closed them, and again muttered:

– It cannot be… – and leaned back, and mixed up the painted cards on the table.

– I went, I can’t wait any longer, – Nikolaev said loudly, – it is necessary to treat immediately…

– I don’t believe…

– As you know, – Nikolaev answered and went to the exit.

He quickly left the estate without looking back. Here, on the path, the silhouette of a tall doctor with a cane in his hand, like a black herald, was already visible. Artamon got into the wagon, his old servant slammed the reins, and a light two-wheeled doctor rolled along a dirt road, past the forest to the outskirts of Gdov.

Everything turned out, as Artamon Ilyich warned, old Rusov rushed to the doctor, but he could only now alleviate the suffering of the unfortunate.

It was after the death of Iraida Lvovna, at his request, that his wife and husband and son came to Rusov, and then Ivan Ivanovich Zalepsky. On a large estate, one old man was too lonely. True, Artamon Ilyich often came, checking the course of treatment. And Ivan Ivanovich, I must say, also appeared on time, so Dr. Nikolaev confirmed his fame, and treated both old people. Zalepsky Sr. had a mischievous heart, so his lips even turned blue. But, the most difficult collections of herbs, which the capital’s doctors did not believe in, saved the elderly landowner from certain death. Now Dmitry Ivanovich was more engaged in commerce, although Rusov always went into business, helping his son-in-law.

Now the trinity often sat up for cards, laying out solitaire, and like many elderly people, friends were carried away by fortune telling. No, it was not a woman’s muttering with candles in front of mirrors, but a man’s, real, on the cards.

They remembered that evening forever… They stayed too long, and it was winter, the sun hid quickly. It darkened, in addition, black clouds hung above the ground. Artamon Grigorievich was going home.