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  .., 2026.



Book One  

Chapter One   

Sanka jumped off the stove and hit the swollen door with her backside.    ,     . Yashka, Gavrilka, and Artamoshka quickly climbed down after Sanka: suddenly everyone was thirsty, and they jumped into the dark entryway following a cloud of steam and smoke from the sour hut.     ,   :    ,              . A faint bluish light glimmered through the snow in the little window.        . It was freezing. . The tub of water was frozen over, and the wooden ladle was frozen over.    ,   .

The children were jumping from foot to foot, all barefoot, Sanka had a scarf tied around his head, Gavrilka and Artamoshka were wearing shirts down to their navels.      ,    ,     ,      ,  .

The door, you who have been instructed!  , ! the mother shouted from the hut.      .

Mother stood by the stove.    . The torches on the stove burned brightly.     . The mother's wrinkled face lit up with fire.     . The most terrifying thing of all was the tear-stained eyes that gleamed from under the torn shawl, like on an icon.    -    ,    . For some reason, Sanka became afraid and slammed the door with all her might.  - ,     . Then she scooped up some fragrant water, took a sip, bit into an ice cube, and gave it to her brothers to drink.    , ,      . She whispered: :

 Are you cold?  ? Or well run outside and have a look  dads harnessing the horse     , ,    

In the yard, father was harnessing the sleigh.      . A soft snow was falling, the sky was snowy, jackdaws were sitting on the high fence, and it was not as cold here as in the entryway.   ,   ,     ,     ,   . Father, Ivan Artemich - thats what his mother called him, and people and he himself in public called him Ivashka, nicknamed Brovkin - had a high cap pulled down over his angry eyebrows.  ,  ,     ,          ,   ,       . His red beard had not been combed since the very veil... Mittens stuck out from the bosom of his homespun caftan, belted low with bast, his bast shoes squealed angrily in the manured snow: father had trouble with the harness... The harness was rotten, only knots.            ,   ,      :         ,  . In vexation, he shouted at the black horse, the same as father, short-legged, with a bloated belly:       ,  ,  , ,   :

- Play around, unclean spirit!  ,  !

The children relieved themselves at the porch and huddled on the icy threshold, although the frost was biting.           ,    . Artamoshka, the smallest, barely managed to say: ,  ,  :

- No problem, well warm up on the stove  ,   

Ivan Artemich harnessed the horse and began to water it from a tub.         . The horse drank for a long time, puffing out its shaggy sides: Well, feed me half-starved, Ill drink my fill. Father put on his mittens and took a whip from under the straw in the sleigh.   ,   :  ,  ,      ,   , - , .

Run into the hut, Ill get you!    ,  ! he shouted to his children.     . He fell sideways onto the sleigh and, rolling outside the gate, trotted past the tall fir trees covered in snow to the estate of the noblemans son, Volkov.     ,   ,            .

Oh, its cold, bitterly cold, said Sanka.  , , ,   .

The children rushed into the dark hut, climbed onto the stove, their teeth chattering.     ,   ,  . Warm, dry smoke curled under the black ceiling and escaped through the small porthole above the door: the hut was heated in a black way.     ,  ,      :   -. Mother was making dough.   . The yard was, after all, prosperous - a horse, a cow, four chickens.  -    , ,  . They said of Ivashka Brovkin: strong.    : . They fell from the torch into the water, the embers of the torch hissed.     ,   . Sanka pulled a sheepskin coat over herself and her brothers, and under the coat she again began to whisper about various passions: about those, may they not be mentioned, who rustle in the cellar at night ...    ,             :  ,   ,      

 Just now, damn my eyes, I was so scared... There was trash at the threshold, and on top of the trash, a broom... I looked from the stove,  the power of the cross is with us!  ,   ,      ,         ,     ! From under the broom  a shaggy one, with a cat's whiskers... -   ,   

Oh, oh, oh, the little ones were afraid under the sheepskin coat.  , , ,     .

A barely beaten road led through the forest.     . Centuries-old pines blocked the sky.    . Windfall, thicket - difficult places. ,    . Vasily, son of Volkov, was allotted this land the year before last from his father, a Moscow service nobleman.   ,  ,         ,   . The local office allocated Vasily four hundred and fifty dessiatines, and with them were assigned thirty-seven peasant souls with their families.       ,          .

Vasily built an estate, but spent it all; half of the land had to be mortgaged to the monastery.   ,  ,      . The monks gave him money on high interest rates - twenty kopecks per ruble.           . But according to the contract, he had to be in the sovereign's service on a good horse, in armor, with a saber, with an arquebus, and lead with him warriors, three peasants, on horses, in tegileis, in sabers, in sadaks... He barely raised such weapons with the monastery money.           ,  ,  ,       ,  ,   ,  ,  ,   -       . And how would he live himself?   ? And feed the servants?   ? And pay the monks interest?    ?

The Tsar's Treasury knows no mercy.     . Every year there is a new order, new money - fodder, travel, tribute and quitrent.      ,    , ,   . How much will they get for themselves?    ? And everyone asks the landowner - why is he so lazy to extort quitrent.          . But you can't skin a peasant more than one skin.        . The state was exhausted under the late Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich from wars, unrest and rebellions.         ,    . Since the anathema thief Stenka Razin roamed the land, the peasants forgot God.        ,    . The slightest pressure - they bare their teeth like wolves.   ,    -. They flee from hardships to the Don - from where they can get them neither by letters nor by nisables.     ,     ,   .

The horse trotted along the road, covered in frost.    ,   . The branches brushed against the arch, showering snow dust.   ,   . Clinging to the trunks, bushy-tailed squirrels looked at the traveler - this squirrel was the death of the forests.   ,     ,       . Ivan Artemich lay in the sleigh and thought - the peasant had only one thing left to do: think...       ,      : 

Well, alright... Give this one, give that one... Pay that one, pay that one... Buttheres an abyssa state like this! ,   ,    ,     ,   !how can you feed it?     ? We dont run from work, we endure it.    , . And in Moscow, the boyars began to ride in golden carts.         . Give him even a cart, the well-fed devil.     ,  . Well, alright... You make him, take what you need, but dont be naughty... And this, guys, is tearing two skins apartnaughty. ,   , ,   ,     , ,     . The sovereigns people have multiplied nowadaysyou can spit on them, and theres a clerk, or a sub-clerk, or a kisser sitting there, writing... And one peasant... Oh, guys, Id rather run away, a beast in the forest will break me, death is sooner than this naughtiness... You wont be able to feed yourself on us for long like this...      ,   ,  ,   ,     , ,   ,     ,  ,          

Ivashka Brovkin thought, maybe so, and maybe not so.   ,  , ,  ,   . From the forest onto the road, kneeling in a sleigh, rode Tsygan (by nickname), a Volkov peasant, a black man with gray hair.     ,     ,  ( ),   , ,  , . For about fifteen years he had been on the run, wandering between the courtyards.      ,   . But a decree was issued: to return all fugitives to the landowners without a statute of limitations.   :       . Tsygan was captured near Voronezh, where he was a peasant, and returned to Volkov Sr.    ,   ,   -. He again sharpened his bast shoes - they caught him, and it was ordered that Tsygan should be whipped without mercy and kept in prison - on Volkov's estate - and when the skin healed, take him out, beat him with a whip without mercy in another row and throw him back in prison, so that he, a rogue, a thief, would have to run away from now on he won't do it again.     ,  ,            ,      ,     , ,              ,  , , ,    . The Gypsy only saved himself by being assigned to Vasiliev's dacha.     ,      .

Great, said the Gypsy to Ivan and moved into his sleigh.  ,         .

- Great.  .

- Do you hear anything?    ?

 It seems like nothing good has been heard      

The gypsy took off his mitten, spread his moustache and beard, hiding his cunning:   ,  , ,  :

 I met a man in the forest: the king, he says, is dying.     : , , .

Ivan Artemich stood up in the sleigh.     . Horror took hold... "Whoa!"... He pulled off his cap and crossed himself:     , :

- Who will they call the king now?     - ?

Except for the boy, he says, theres no one else, except Pyotr Alekseevich.  , , ,  ,  . And he barely dropped the tit     

- Well, boy!  , ! - Ivan pulled down his cap, his eyes turned white.     ,  . - Well, boy... Now wait for the boyar kingdom.   ,     . We'll all be lost...  

Well be lost, or maybe its nothingthats it.  ,  ,    -. The Gypsy leaned right over.     . He winked. . This man said there will be unrest Maybe well live a while, chew bread, have teawere seasoned.         ,  ,  ,   . The Gypsy bared his wood-goblin teeth and laughed, coughing loudly enough for the whole forest to hear.        ,    .

A squirrel darted from a tree trunk and flew across the road; snow began to fall and sparkled in a column of needles in the slanting light.    ,   ,  ,      . A large crimson sun hung at the end of the road over a hillock, over the high palisades, steep roofs, and smoke of the Volkov estate         ,   ,      

Ivashka and Tsygan left their horses near the high gates.        . Above them, under a gable roof, was an image of the honest cross of the Lord.          . Further on, an impassable fence stretched around the entire estate.       . At least meet the Tatars... The men took off their hats.      . Ivashka took hold of the ring in the gate and said as required:      ,   :

 Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us    ,  ,  

Averian, the guard, came out of the gate, his bast shoes creaking, looked through the crack, and saw that they were his own.  ,    , ,   ,  . He said, Amen, and began to open the gate. : ,     .

The men led the horses into the yard.     . They stood without hats, looking askance at the mica windows of the boyar's hut.   ,      . A porch with a steep staircase led there, into the chambers. ,  ,     . A beautiful porch of carved wood, an onion-shaped roof.    ,  . Above the porch was a hipped roof with two half-barrels and a gilded comb.      ,   ,   . The lower part of the hut - the basement - was made of mighty logs.         . Vasily Volkov prepared it for storerooms for winter and summer supplies - bread, corned beef, pickles, various pickles.    ,         , , ,  . But - the men knew - his storerooms were full of mice. ,   ,       . And the porch - God grant to another prince: the porch rich       :  

Averyan, why did the boyar summon us with horses? Was it some kind of duty?  ,      ,  ,  , ?... asked Ivashka.    . It seems we have nothing to do with it    , ,   

 You will take military men to Moscow      

- Should we break horses again?     ?...

What do you hear? asked the Gypsy, moving closer. War with whom?    ,   , ,    ? Trouble? ?

Its none of your or my business.        . Gray-haired Averian bowed.     . You were ordered to take him.     . Today they brought a cartload of whips for your brother      - 

Averyan, without bending his legs, went to the gatehouse. ,   ,   . In the winter twilight, a small window shone here and there.    -  . There were many buildings piled up in the yard - cattle yards, cellars, huts, a forge.          , , ,. But everything was half useless.     . Volkov had only fifteen serfs in the yard, and even they lived from bread to kvass.        ,        . They worked, of course - they plowed somehow, sowed, hauled wood, but how can you live on that? , ,   -, ,  ,     ? The labor of serfs.  . They said that Vasily sends one to Moscow to play the fool on the porch - he brings in money. ,         ,    . Yes, two walk around Moscow with boxes, selling spoons, bast shoes, whistles ... And yet the basis - men.        ,  , ,   -   . They feed...   

Ivashka and Tsygan, standing in the twilight in the yard, were thinking.   ,     , . There is nowhere to hurry.  . There is nowhere good to expect.   . Of course, the old people say that it was easier before: if you didnt like it, you went to another landowner. ,  ,   :  ,    . Now this is forbidden - live where you are told.   ,   ,   . You are told to feed Vasily Volkov - feed him however you want.    ,   ,   . Everyone has become serfs.   . And you have to wait: it will be even harder...   :   

A door squealed somewhere, and a bareheaded, shameless street girl flew up through the snow:  - ,     -, :

 The boyar ordered,  unharness.   ,  . He ordered to spend the night.  . Give the horses  God forbid  the boyars hay     ,  

The gypsy wanted to burn the girl's smooth bottom with his whip, but she ran away... They unharnessed her slowly.          ,     . They went to the janitor's hut to spend the night.     . The servants, about eight of them, having stolen a tallow candle from the boyar, were slapping greasy cards on the table - winning kopecks from each other... Shouting, arguing, one trying to shove money into his cheek, another tearing his lips. ,  ,     ,     ,       , ,      ,    . Idlers, and yet - well-fed! ,    !

Off to the side, on a bench, sat a boy in a long linen shirt and worn-out bast shoesAlyoshka, Ivan Artemichs son.  ,        ,   ,  ,   . In the autumn, due to hunger and arrears, he had to be given over to the boyar for perpetual bondage.  ,  ,        . The boy had big eyes, like his mother.  ,  . You could tell by his hair that they beat him here.       . Ivan glanced sideways at his son, felt sorry for him, and said nothing.    ,  ,   . Alyoshka bowed low to his father in silence.  ,   .

He beckoned to his son and asked in a whisper:   ,  :

Have you had dinner?  ?

 We had dinner.  .




  .


   .

   ,     (https://www.litres.ru/book/raznoe/a-n-tolstoi-piotr-pervyi-na-angliiskom-iazyke-s-parallel-nym-perevo-74396919/)  .

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