The Cavalier Guards. 1812.White colet and phrygian cap

Genevieve

Ilya walked to Fedot’s house only sighing along the road, remembering Glafira.

“No, I’ll return the money to the guy,” he said to himself, “and so Fedot will do my job”

In the evening, the mosquitoes were already piling on, the hunter waved off the vileness with a twig. Ilya quickly entered the house of Fedot, already dressed, with a bag behind his back and a travel staff.

— Well, what? the young man jumped up, found out?

— Let’s go, no time. And take the money, you will need it more, and he returned the silver to the young man.

“Did you find out?” What I asked for. I honestly did everything, your money.

— I said I won’t take any money for it. Martha in the far wing, I’ll bring you. And remember, guy, in Kostroma the house of the merchant Rodion Khrenov. Take it, and he gave the letter, — you give it to the merchant, he will understand that you are from me. And from me, for a good cause, and Ilya put ten rubles out of fifty received from Glafira before Fedot.

“Thank you,” Fedot smiled broadly, “I won’t forget a century,” and hugged the hunter.

— Come on. Let’s go together, we’ll do everything.

The young man extinguished the fire at home, collected a bag, tried to fold all his own, took both an ax and a knife. Kaftan, Armenian, blanket, and sister’s things were not forgotten.

Ilya waited until Fedot gathered, the young man remembered the dog.

— I’ll take the dog, and this is for you for the cow, — and gave the guy three more rubles. Come on, we must hurry.

The young man closed the gate, and went quickly after Ilya. The hunter led a companion through the forest, a path past bushes and thickets, in order to go unnoticed to the fence of the estate and be next to the distant outbuilding. The hunter helped the young man climb over, and moved himself. On the second floor, a red scarf was visible in the second window.

— Hurry up, Fedot. You’re in that room where the red headscarf is. Got that?

— Yes, I went, — the young man answered impatiently, putting the luggage on the grass.

Ilya looked incredulously at the guy who was flustered with excitement, and shook his head in doubt, would it work?

***

Everything turned out well, no one sounded the alarm, there were no Cossacks at the entrance, even the dogs did not bark. Fedot went through the door of the house, and as if he fell into a fabulous sleepy kingdom — everyone slept, sitting on benches or on chairs, at tables and on benches and sofas. If not for the rush, then the master would have amused curiosity for a long time, bypassing such beauty. The walls of the house were covered with tapestries, or patterned silk, beautiful typesetting parquet was laid on the floors, lamps were made in the form of gods, naiads, warriors. Even on the ceiling there was a painting. The mirror frames, made with wonderful carvings, the dishes used by the inhabitants of the house, were so beautiful that he was afraid to pick it up. On the fireplace stood a clock with bronze figures, so wonderfully made that one could take them for the living. He just sighed, and began to climb the oak stairs, trying to step quieter, but the floorboards creaked mercilessly. After walking down the corridor, he looked into a couple of rooms, but people were either sleeping there, or there was simply no one there. There was complete peace and tranquility in the building. Fedot was already losing patience, when suddenly the closed door to the padlock. He fled, and praying to himself with all the saints, knocked out the door with a shoulder blow, saw a hanging red scarf on the window, a girl in a Russian outfit sitting on the couch and looking out the window. She immediately jumped up, and rushed to run out of the outbuilding, moreover, even the sundress and shirt did not interfere with her.

The guy ran after her, cursing everything in the world.

— Stop, stop, it’s me Fedot, ‘he shouted.

But the girl, without turning around, ran away, and right to the place where he left his goodness. Ilya was not there, but fortunately the fugitive stopped.

— Hello, sister, hello, beauty! — the young man ran up to the girl, wanting to hug his sister, — why are you silent?

Suddenly she turned around, but it was not her at all. The young man just darkened in his eyes.

— Girl, sorry, you didn’t see the girl here, is Martha’s name?

— Qui etes vous? Je ne me laisserai pas violer! What is it, who are you, “the stranger said in fright in French.

And then Fedot saw a hard-running Cossack lady, a hefty kid. The girl’s eyes widened unusually, and she pulled the young man along with her.

— Nous couronsplus vite. C est une personne terrible! — кричала она.

He only managed to pick up his belongings, and ran nearby. The watchman began to lag behind, and cursed at the same time, well, he was no longer heard, and now, Fedot and the stranger broke away from the chase.

The girl was suffocating. holding on to a tree, and now tried to escape from Fedot.

— where are you going? Won’t we eat you, what am I, Gray Wolf? Yes, you do not know the road.

She only listened to his words, and amusingly wrinkled her forehead, finally approached him.

“Genevieve,” she pointed her finger at herself, “Genevieve Roussille,” called herself again, and pointed her finger at him, waiting for an answer.

— Fedot, — he called himself, pointing to himself, — Genevieve, — pointed to her.

She nodded, and said:

— Fedot, — then I thought and added, — Moscow? ‘she said in her strongest accent.

— No, — and he shook his head in denial, — Kostroma, — and he repented with the fingers of a man walking, and showed with his fingers for five days, and then two more.

— Sis? — the girl said incomprehensibly, — Aide -moi a m emmener avectoi!

“I don’t know French, young lady,” the young man said wearily, “we’ll get there in seven days, I know the road, but I can walk on the sun and stars too.” Here, you sing, and took out a piece of bread and an egg from the bag.

— Mercy, the companion nodded, and ate the treat with appetite.

We walked along the forest roads, and the young man saw how hard it was to walk long in shoes. He looked in the bag, and found Martha’s legs and windings.

— Genevieve! ‘he shouted.

The girl stopped, and the guy showed her to sit on a stump, she looked at him in doubt, he showed her her knocked down legs. Genevieve smiled only weakly, and spread her hands to the sides. Fedot showed her the bast shoes. The milliner sat down picturesquely, holding on to a bitch in a tree, took off her shoes, the companion helped wrap her windings, and put on bast shoes. The Frenchwoman went quietly, with all her appearance showed that she liked these shoes. They were able to go a lot faster. The sun bowed to sunset, and Fedot began to build a hut. The ax in the hands of the master is a big deal, and the mountain of lapnik grew quickly. Finally, he laid the branches of the spruce, so that a decent dwelling came out. The pit for the fire was also ready, and Genevieve brought water in a pot from the stream.

— Look, — said the young man, pointing to the dwelling from the branches, — the hut, — he said clearly.

“Hut,” she repeated, “water,” she pointed to the contents of the boiler.

— Bread, he added, cutting off her slice.

“Bread,” Genevieve said exactly.

Fedot began to make tops for fish from willow branches, the companion only looked at his fast and skillful hands. Having made three pieces, he drowned them in shallow water. Suddenly he slapped his forehead, cursing for forgetfulness. He took off his boots and walked through the shallow water, trying to catch crayfish. Genevieve at first did not understand what was the matter, finally laughed, and sowing bast shoes and windings, lifting the dress to her knees, began to help. The girl was fast and agile, and soon there was a fair bunch of crayfish moving and lifting pincers up on the lapnik.

— J’ai aussi peche, c’est-a-dire gue j’airamasse des huitres, mais je suis Bretagne. I also caught, that is, collected oysters, I’m from Brittany, — she said to the incomprehensible Russian.

The girl took the pot, scooped up water, and without lowering the hem down, went to the fire. Fedot looked at the reckless beauty, and brought prey, and then took out another pot and a couple of wooden cups and wooden plates. Such cups and plates were made in their village by grandfather Borya. And his spoons came out grippy. Although it was old, but hand-made, and dishes from wood turned out to be perfectly fine. So there were already two cauldrons on the fire, and in one young man laid their dinner. The water boiled, the crayfish turned red, and already adorned with unwise dishes. Genevieve watched what the young man was doing and repeated after him. She got meat both in pincers and in the back, throwing out the panzyr.

— You see, we will not disappear, — the young man reassured the girl, — there is a lot of food here by the river.

Not everyone ate boiled crayfish, the next day remained. The young master dug in his bags, and extracted gray. cloth blanket, gave it into the hands of the girl, took the second for himself. The water in another cauldron began to boil, he threw Ivan tea there.

— We will not cook porridge, — he said quietly, — in reserve for cereals, the coast. Let’s drink an infusion.

Fedot poured a fragrant drink, gave the cup into the hands of the girl. They sniffed, tried to feel an unfamiliar bouquet, and nodded their heads.

— Sava

— To health, — only the young man answered.

The sun was rolling over the edge of the earth, cooling, and mosquitoes were curling around. They extinguished the fire so as not to burn themselves. There was hope for resinous lapnik, which will scare away bloodsuckers at night. He busily prepared two heaps of soft branches, showed one to a guest from France, sat on the other himself, trying to sit down. It seems to be quite good.

“Go to bed. We will get up early, go far.

“Good,” the girl said terribly, wrapped in a blanket.

Fedot could not immediately fall asleep, not understanding everything happened to him. Why so, because of the whim of the barchuk, so many people suffer? Only to the stars and the moon, it looked like the suffering of people, at least ordinary people, was indifferent. Yes, and mosquitoes, apparently, only drink blood, and also bars. The youngster slapped his cheek, killing the bloodsucker by smearing his blood with the remains of a nosebleed. “There was no mosquito, and there was no one to bite,” the guy thought, “apparently, and so with bars. It is not for nothing that Emel Pugachev is cursed in churches. And God, lordly, — he decided sadly”

Finally, he lay down and slept until dawn. He slept soundly, and he saw neither Thomas, nor his sister, nor his bride, Alyona, in a dream. He opened his eyes and his companion disappeared, only the blanket on the lapnik remained. Was he upset? Yes, not, I was delighted. It’s easier to walk alone. True they say:" Baba with a cart — it’s easier for a mare”

Well, the horse, it’s clear. I was just delighted, but I heard a song that Genevieve quietly hummed. Not Russian, but very pleasant.

“Salu,” she said, seeing that the young man had already woken up.

Beckoned him with her hand, sit down at the already burning fire. On the leaves of the burdock lay crayfish, and already fried, smelling just incredible, fish. Fedot could not believe his eyes, but the girl turned out to be wonderfully economic and caring.

“Thank you,” the youth said loudly, sitting down at the fire.

Smiling, and apparently well-slept Frenchwoman, after the past terrible day, put him fish in a bowl, touching his face with his black curls. The young man looked up, and immediately took his companion away from the open neckline. Genevieve smiled even more, and crouched nearby, cleverly butchering baked fish. We ate perfectly, Fedot took care and brought a heap of burdock leaves, wipe his hands. An incomprehensible leftist showed something to wash her hands, but the young man realized where to get his soap? Sand and ash, so much for peasant soap, Fedot set an example, the girl’s eyes only opened wide.

— It’s… Le… in French… Lave Wash?

— Sure. Ash washes well, rubbed a stronger sand, and there is no dirt. our soap is expensive, for the bar and merchants.

— C’est pas possible! Siecle des Limeres! It cannot be, the Age of Enlightenment… — the girl lamented, — mais voici l’esclavage et la sauvagerie et il n’y meme pas de savon! and here — slavery and savagery and there is not even soap!

— I don’t understand what you are saying — only the young man could add.

Raskolnicheskaya Kostroma