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Shackles. S. Skitalec
Читать онлайн.Название Shackles
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9785449694102
Автор произведения S. Skitalec
Жанр Мифы. Легенды. Эпос
Издательство Издательские решения
When drove on the bridge, there was misfortune: the cart got stuck in dirt; Chalka hardly held on it to the dry coast and suddenly stopped knee-deep in the dense bog. How many the grandfather urged on it, it only wound and shook the head.
– Eh, old age! – with a sigh the grandfather told and on a shaft got out to the coast. – You what you sit, swindlers? Get down!
Children got on a shaft after the grandfather. Sucked in Chalka to the bog more and more deeply.
Then the grandfather выпряг him also looked around: whether looks who? But on a holiday behind the village was nobody.
– Eh, old age! – again the grandfather repeated, took Chalka one hand for a tail, and another for a mane, planted the feet against the coast so that bast shoes it went to the soft earth, terribly began to roar on Chalka and – pulled out it on the dry place. Then looked back on the parties again, became on chalkino place in shafts, all napruzhinitsya, the back stooped, the head left between big shoulders, and the long beard almost touched the earth. Panting, the grandfather rocked here and there and took out a cart then wiped a sleeve a bald head, put Chalka and suddenly, having angrily threatened with a whip handle, severely told children:
– You motrit, swindlers, do not stir! I will bungle!
And though they knew that the grandfather never before flogged anybody but only he swore and in rare instances raised, however involuntarily were afraid: they were frightened by its force; has to be therefore it also never did not beat anybody: was afraid of the force.
– We on Sittsevo will go! – prositelno told Laurels.
The grandfather silently sat down on a cart, pulled reins and, already driving off, waved on them a hand.
Having got over through a stream on the cut-down tree, they ran a forest footpath to the lake. Both were without caps, barefoot and already on the run took off from themselves shirts it is to plunge into the water rather. Print sparkled in the sun between oak trunks. When ran up to the high green coast, on an unruffled surface of the lake, on its middle, floated, being removed, two big proud birds with silver feathers, with long necks and black noses.
– Swans! – whispered Laurels, threw a shirt on a grass and wanted was with running start to plunge into the water, but on the usual place of bathing someone floundered about and swam, lifting legs the whole column of the splashes sparkling in the sun.
– Children! – cheerfully the chest female voice cried – you want, I will get a cockleshell?
– This is Grunka! – said Laurels in low tones.
The girl disappeared under water and long there remained, only circles on water went.
Suddenly she jumped out up to a breast over water and with laughter threw it a big brilliant silvery sink.
The laurels bent to lift a gift, but Vukol as if was dumbfounded, without taking eyes from Gruni. Around the head her snake twisted the black big braid intertwined in white water colors. The dark face with eagle eyes and thin, as if drawn, eyebrows affected it: it seemed to it similar to the person, somewhere seen by it… perhaps, in a dream…
Grunya swam up to the coast where over water, on low to a tree bough, her dress hung, and rose from water already in a shirt: the shirt was in covering on a breast and on hips and only around a slender waist lay freely, Unwound the long thick plait which fell below knees, squeezed out of it water, threw a lilac dress, and the head tied with a red bandage. By sight it was years sixteen.
– Lavrusha! This is the nephew, perhaps, yours? – loudly Grunya asked, and her voice began to sound as a pipe.
– Nephew! – solidly the Laurels answered.
Grunya looked at Vukol with the unusual eyes, and it seemed to him that she watches derisively.
– What is your name?
Vukol stood pale, looking to the earth, and, as captivated, lost gift for speaking, could utter nothing.
– See you, exactly what tsarevitch!
Light step there passed Grunya by it and, passing, again burned it with a quizzical glance. It disappeared in the wood, singing the lingering song.
– Eh, what! – Vukol with surprise told – it is similar to the fisherman’s daughter!
The laurels did not understand it:
– She is not the fisherman’s daughter, it Listratov the daughter, at them rolls in money!
They plunged into the water and floated. Then, having held the breath, fell by a bottom, opened eyes there as before did, and through water as through a chintz, saw each other sitting at a sandy bottom. Therefore the transparent lake – Print was called. Came up upward, splashed and floated as frogs, but Vukol’s memory did not leave an image of the beauty; he wanted to see as soon as possible again it and to look, look endlessly.
IV
In the wood the cart with two horsemen drove. The miller Chelyak, stocky, wide, all convex as if a bucket-chelyak which pour grain drove the horse. Elizar sat next. In a back of the cart some construction from a popular print and a wire was attached.
When the cart drove in the wood, the miller stopped a horse.
– Tprr!. climb, a postrelyata! on Proran we go!
Children scrambled in the cart, and it zadrebezzhat on the familiar forest road.
After the cart the youth – guys and maids, as always to a holiday went groups. The miller knocked on a popular print and told laughing:
– Мотови́ ло-готови́ ло on a prozvanye “фир” – at it there are a lot of holes!
Children laughed, though did not understand intricate words of Chelyak.
– Flying carpet! – smiling, Elizar added and, having turned back to Chelyak, continued the interrupted conversation: – Whether it will be possible whether is not present, but there is no doubt that the science will achieve the and the person will fly as a bird…
The miller trifled a broad chestnut beard and anxiously frowned shaggy eyebrows. His old kazinetovy jacket was through impregnated with flour dust.
– Science! – derisively it pokryakhtet, jumping up on potholes – and where to take it to the man? You understand everything!. I from time immemorial – the miller: I look at gear wheels, at all mill structure, I look as the mill waves wings, but cannot depart!. and here the thought was! Twenty years I build, but I cannot reach… there is no help from anybody! My car is only the first experience, model… shortcomings at it – a plenty… there are no words, I tested it – went down from a mill – to float! and now through Proran I can…
He kept silent, groaning and leaning sinewy hands against edges of the cart. Having stooped, resembled the bird ready to fly up.
– And you what you build? – having kept silent, he asked Elizar.
– Built to a self-skating rink long ago, threw and again was accepted… I want to try again now… You are here a miller, and I from youth work at the plants… saw many models. Modeller I… Looked in books… It appears – the physics should be known: without efty knowledge you are knocked by a forehead about everything as the blind person…
– Here that and it: as a bug on a thread…
– But my main thought not in efty!. other, highest, big thought! – Elizar sighed.
– What?
Elizar shook curls, kept silent and told, having lowered a voice:
– The steam plane – here a thought!
The miller