"Blue Cup": Order "Badge of Honor" publishing house " Soviet Russia"; M .; 1985

(audiobook)

annotation

A small lyrical story by the famous Soviet children's writer A. Gaidar is dedicated to one day in the life of the heroine, the girl Svetlana, which she will remember for the rest of her life.
For children of primary school age.

I was then thirty-two years old. Marusa is twenty-nine, and our daughter Svetlana is six and a half. Only at the end of the summer I got a vacation, and for the last warm month we rented a dacha near Moscow.
Svetlana and I thought about fishing, swimming, picking mushrooms and nuts in the forest. And I had to immediately sweep the yard, fix dilapidated fences, stretch ropes, hammer in crutches and nails.
We got tired of all this very soon, and Marusya, one after another, new and new things for herself and for us, comes up with.
Only on the third day, in the evening, was everything finally done. And just when the three of us were about to go for a walk, her friend, a polar pilot, came to Marusa.
They sat for a long time in the garden, under the cherries. And Svetlana and I went into the yard to the barn and out of frustration set about making a wooden turntable.
When it got dark, Marusya shouted for Svetlana to drink milk and go to bed, and she herself went to see the pilot to the station.
But I got bored without Marusya, and Svetlana did not want to sleep alone in an empty house.
We got flour from the closet. We brewed it with boiling water - it turned out to be a paste.
We pasted over the smooth turntable with colored paper, smoothed it thoroughly and climbed through the dusty attic onto the roof.

Here we are sitting astride the roof. And we can see from above, as in the neighboring garden, by the porch, a samovar is smoking a pipe. And on the porch sits a lame old man with a balalaika, and children crowd around him.
Then a barefooted, hunched old woman jumped out of the black hallway. She turned the children around, scolded the old man and, grabbing a rag, began to slap on the burner of the samovar to make it boil faster.
We laughed and think: if the wind blows, our fast turntable will whirl, whirr. Children from all the yards will run to our house. Then we will have our own company.
And tomorrow we'll think of something else.
Maybe we'll dig a deep cave for that frog that lives in our garden, near the damp cellar.
Maybe we will ask Marusya for some harsh threads and launch a kite - higher than the silo, higher than the yellow pines and even higher than the kite that has been guarding the master's chickens and rabbits from the sky all day today.
Or maybe tomorrow, early in the morning, we'll get into the boat - I'm on the oars, Marusya is behind the wheel, Svetlana is a passenger - and we will sail along the river to where, they say, a large forest stands, where two hollow birches grow on the bank, under which a neighbor girl three good porcini mushrooms. The only pity is that they were all wormy.
Suddenly Svetlana pulled my sleeve and said:
- Look, dad, but it seems that our mom is coming, and no matter how you and I get in now.
Indeed, our Marusya is walking along the path along the fence, but we thought that she would not return soon.
“Bend over,” I said to Svetlana. “Maybe she won't notice.
But Marusya immediately noticed us, raised her head and shouted:
- Why are you, worthless people, climbed onto the roof? It's already damp in the yard. It is high time for Svetlana to sleep. And you were glad that I was not at home, and are ready to pamper me even until midnight.
- Marusya, - I replied, - we do not spoil, we nail the turntable. Wait a little, we only have three nails left to finish.
- Finish it tomorrow! - ordered Marusya. - Now get off, or I'll be completely angry.
Svetlana and I looked at each other. We see our business is bad. They took it and got off. But they took offense at Marusya.
And although Marusya brought from the station to Svetlana Big apple, and I have a pack of tobacco, - they were offended anyway.
So with resentment and fell asleep.

And in the morning - another new thing! We just woke up, Marusya comes up and asks:
“You better confess, you mischievous people, that they broke my blue cup in the closet!
And I didn't break the cups. And Svetlana says that she did not break it either. We looked at each other with her and both thought that Marusya was talking about us in vain.
But Marusya didn't believe us.
“The cups,” she says, “are not alive: they have no legs. They do not know how to jump to the floor. And besides you two, nobody climbed into the closet yesterday. Smashed and do not confess. It's a shame, comrades!
After breakfast, Marusya suddenly got ready and went to the city, and we sat down and thought.
Here we go on the boat!

And the sun looks into our windows. And the sparrows gallop along the sandy paths. And the chickens dash through the wooden fence from yard to street and from street to yard.
And we're not having fun at all.
- Well! - I say to Svetlana. “You and I were driven off the roof yesterday. A can of kerosene was recently taken away from us. They scolded in vain for some blue cup. Is it a good life?
- Of course, - says Svetlana, - life is absolutely bad.
- Come on, Svetlana, put on yours pink dress... We will take my camping bag from behind the stove, put there your apple, my tobacco, matches, knife, loaf and leave this house wherever we can.
Svetlana thought and asks:
- Where are your eyes looking?
- And they are looking, Svetlana, through the window, here at that yellow meadow where the mistress's cow grazes. And beyond the clearing, I know, there is a goose pond, and beyond the pond there is a water mill, and behind the mill on the mountain there is a birch grove. And what is behind the mountain - I myself do not know.
“Okay,” Svetlana agreed, “we’ll take bread, an apple, and tobacco, but just take another thick stick with you, because somewhere in that direction there is a terrible dog Polkan. And the boys told me about her that she almost ate one to death.
And so we did. They put what they needed in the bag, closed all five windows, locked both doors, and slipped the key under the porch.
Goodbye, Marusya! And we still didn’t break your cups.

We went out the gate, and a milkmaid met us.
- Do you need milk?
- No, grandma! We don't need anything else.
- I have fresh milk, good, from my cow, - the milkmaid was offended. - Come back, so sorry.
She thundered with her cold cans and walked on. And where can she guess that we are going far and maybe we won't come back?
And no one knew about it. A tanned boy rode a bike. Probably walking into the forest for mushrooms, a fat guy in shorts and with a pipe. A blond girl with her hair wet after bathing passed by. And we did not meet any acquaintances.

We got out through the vegetable gardens to a clearing, yellow from night blindness, took off our sandals and walked along the warm path barefoot across the meadow straight to the mill.
We walk, we walk, and now we see that a man is rushing from the mill in full spirit to meet us. He bent down, and from behind the bush bushes clods of earth are flying at his back. It seemed strange to us. What? Svetlana's eyes are sharp-sighted, she stopped and said:
- And I know who is running. This is a boy, Sanka Karjakin, who lives near the house where some pigs climbed into tomato beds in the garden. Yesterday he rode on horseback against our dacha on someone else's goat. Do you remember?
Sanka ran up to us, stopped and wipes his tears with a cotton bag. And we ask him:
- Why is it, Sanka, you rushed with all your might and why did clods fly after you because of the bushes?
Sanka turned away and said:
- My grandmother sent me to the collective farm shop for salt. And the pioneer Pashka Bukamashkin is sitting at the mill, and he wants to tear me up.
Svetlana looked at him. That's the way it is!
Is there in Soviet country such a law that a person would run to a collective farm shop for salt, not touch anyone, not bully, and suddenly they would start to tear him up for no reason at all?
- Come with us, Sanka, - says Svetlana. - Do not be afraid. We are on our way, and we will intercede for you.
The three of us went through the dense broom.
- Here he is, Pashka Bukamashkin, - said Sanka and backed away.
We see - there is a mill. There is a cart near the mill. Under the cart lies a curly little dog, all covered in burdocks, and, opening one eye, looks as the nimble sparrows peck at the grains scattered on the sand. And on a pile of sand, Pashka Bukamashkin sits without a shirt and gnaws at a fresh cucumber.
Pashka saw us, but was not scared, and threw the stub at the little dog and said, without looking at anyone:
- Huh! .. Sharik ... Huh! .. There is a well-known fascist, White Guard Sanka coming here. Wait, unfortunate fascist! We will deal with you yet.
Then Pashka spat far into the sand. The curly little dog growled. The frightened sparrows roared up the tree. And Svetlana and I, having heard such words, came closer to Pashka.
- Wait, Pashka, - I said. - Maybe you were wrong? What kind of a fascist is this, a White Guard? After all, this is simply Sanka Karjakin, who lives near the house where someone's pigs climbed into tomato beds in someone else's garden.
- All the same, a White Guard, - Pashka stubbornly repeated. “And if you don’t believe it, do you want me to tell you his whole story?”
Here Svetlana and I really wanted to know Sankin's entire story. We sat on the logs, Pashka opposite. A curly little dog at our feet, on the grass. Only Sanka did not sit down, but, leaving behind the cart, shouted angrily from there:
- Then tell me everything! And how it hit me on the back of the head, tell me too. You think the back of your head doesn't hurt? Take yourself and knock.

“There is a city of Dresden in Germany,” Pashka said calmly, “and from this city one worker, a Jew, ran away from the Nazis. He ran away and came to us. And the girl came with him, Bertha. He himself now works at this mill, and Berta plays with us. Only now she ran to the village for milk. So, the day before yesterday we were playing siskin: me, Berta, this man, Sanka, and another one from the village. Berta hits the siskin with a stick and accidentally hits this Sanka on the back of the head, or something ...
“I hit it right on the top of my head,” said Sanka from behind the cart. - My head began to buzz, and she still laughs.
- Well, - Pashka continued, - she hit this Sanka on the top of the head with a siskin. He first at her with fists, and then nothing. He put a burdock to his head - and again he plays with us. Only after that he became impossible to cheat. He will take an extra step and aim with a siskin right at the stake.
- You're lying, you're lying! - Sanka jumped out from behind the cart. - It was your dog who poked his face, here he is, a siskin, and rolled up.
- And you are not playing with the dog, but with us. I would take it and put the siskin in its place. Well. He threw the siskin, and Berta, as soon as he had enough with a stick, so this siskin flew right to the other end of the field, into the nettles. We find it funny, but Sanka is angry. It is clear that he is reluctant to run after the siskin into the nettles ... He climbed over the fence and yells from there: “You fool, Jewess! So that you fail back to your Germany! " But Berta already understands a fool in Russian well, but still does not understand the Jewish woman in any way. She comes up to me and asks: "What is this Jewess?" And I am ashamed to say. I shout: "Shut up, Sanka!" And he deliberately screams louder and louder. I follow him over the fence. He is in the bushes. So he disappeared. When I returned, I looked: the stick was lying on the grass, and Berta was sitting in the corner on the logs. I call: "Bertha!" She is not responding. I came up - I see: there are tears in her eyes. So she guessed it herself. Then I picked up a stone from the ground, put it in my pocket and thought: “Well, wait, damn Sanka! This is not Germany. We can handle your fascism ourselves! "

We looked at Sanka and thought: “Well, brother, you have a bad story. Even listening is disgusting. And we were still going to intercede for you. "
And I was just about to say this, when suddenly the mill trembled and began to rustle, a rested wheel spun on the water. A cat sprinkled with flour, dazed with fright, jumped out of the mill window. Sleepily missed and fell right on the back of the dozing Sharik. The ball screeched and jumped. The cat darted to the tree, the sparrows from the tree to the roof. The horse lifted its muzzle and jerked the cart. And some shaggy uncle, gray with flour, looked out of the shed and, without understanding, threatened Sanka with a long whip, who had jumped off the cart:
- But, but ... look, do not spoil, otherwise I will vigorously pull out!
Svetlana laughed, and she felt sorry for this unfortunate Sanka, whom everyone wanted to rip out.
“Dad,” she told me. - Maybe he is not such a fascist at all? Maybe he's just a fool? Is it true, Sanka, that you are just a fool? - asked Svetlana and looked tenderly into his face.
In response, Sanka just snorted angrily, shook his head, sniffed and wanted to say something. And what can you say when you are all around you and there is nothing to say, to tell the truth.
But then Pashka's little dog suddenly stopped yelling at the cat and, turning to the field, raised its ears.
Somewhere behind the grove, a shot slammed. Another. Both off and on! ..
- Fight nearby! - Pashka cried out.
“The fight is nearby,” I said. - It's firing from rifles. But do you hear? The machine gun shot it.
- Who's with whom? - Svetlana asked in a trembling voice. - Is it already a war?

Pashka was the first to jump up. The dog ran after him. I picked up Svetlana in my arms and also ran to the grove.
We did not have time to run half the road when we heard a cry behind us. We turned around and saw Sanka.
Raising his arms high so that we would notice him sooner, he rushed towards us straight through the ditches and hummocks.
- Look how a goat gallops! - muttered Pashka. - And what is this fool swinging over his head?
- This is not a fool. He's dragging my sandals! - Svetlana shouted joyfully. - I forgot them on the logs, but he found them and brings them to me. You would make peace with him, Pashka!
Pashka frowned and said nothing. We waited for Sanka, took Svetlana's yellow sandals from him. And now the four of us, with the dog, went through the grove to the edge.
In front of us was a hilly field overgrown with bushes. By the stream, a goat tied to a peg was nibbling at the grass, jingling with a tin bell. A lonely kite was flying smoothly in the sky. That's all. And there was no one and nothing else in this field.
- So where is the war here? - Svetlana asked impatiently.
- And now I'll take a look, - said Pashka and climbed onto the stump.
For a long time he stood, squinting from the sun and covering his eyes with his palm. And who knows what he saw there, but only Svetlana got tired of waiting, and she, tangled in the grass, went herself to look for a war.
“The grass is high for me, and I’m low,” Svetlana complained, standing up on tiptoe. “And I don’t see at all.
“Look under your feet, don't touch the wire,” a loud voice said from above.
In an instant, Pashka flew off the hemp. Awkwardly, he bounced towards Sanka. And Svetlana rushed to me and grabbed my hand tightly.
We backed away and then saw that right above us, in the dense branches of a lonely tree, a Red Army soldier was hiding.
The rifle hung on a branch next to him. In one hand he held a telephone receiver and, without moving, looked through shiny black binoculars somewhere at the edge of a deserted field.
Before we had time to utter the words, from afar, like thunder with ripples and crossings, a terrible cannon salvo struck. The ground shook underfoot. A cloud of black dust and smoke rose above the field far from us. Like a madman, the goat jumped up and fell off the sponge rope. And the kite wagged in the sky and, quickly, quickly flapping its wings, rushed away.
- It’s bad for the fascists! - Pashka said loudly and looked at Sanka. - This is how our batteries beat.
“It’s bad for the Nazis,” the hoarse voice echoed.
And then we saw that a gray-haired, bearded old man was standing under the bushes.

The old man had mighty shoulders. In his hands he held a heavy, gnarled club. And at his feet stood a tall, shaggy dog ​​and bared its teeth at Pashkin Sharik, his tail between his legs.
The old man raised his wide straw hat, bowed gravely first to Svetlana, then to all of us. Then he put the truncheon on the grass, took out a crooked pipe, filled it with tobacco and began to light it.
He lit a cigarette for a long time, then crushing the tobacco with his finger, then rolling it with a nail, like a poker in a stove.
Finally he lit a cigarette, and then he puffed and smoked so hard that the Red Army soldier sitting on a tree sneezed and coughed.
Then the battery thundered again, and we saw that the empty and quiet field at once came to life, rustled and stirred. Because of the bushes, because of the hillocks, because of the ditches, because of the bumps - from everywhere with rifles at the ready, the Red Army soldiers jumped out.
They ran, jumped, fell, climbed again. They moved, closed, they became more and more; finally, with loud shouts from the whole bulk, they rushed with bayonets to the top of a gentle hill, where a cloud of dust and smoke was still smoking.
Then everything was quiet. From the summit, a barely noticeable and like a toy signalman waved flags to us. The military trumpet began to play sharply.
Breaking off branches with heavy boots, the Red Army observer got down from the tree. He quickly stroked Svetlana, thrust three shiny acorns into her hand and hurriedly ran away, reeling a thin telephone wire onto a reel.
The military exercise is over.
- Well, have you? - nudging Sanka with his elbow, Pashka said reproachfully. - This is not a siskin on the back of your head. Here the tops of your heads will quickly help you.
- Strange I hear conversations, - moving forward, said the bearded old man. - Apparently, I have lived for sixty years, but have not made my mind. I don't understand anything. Here, under the mountain, is our collective farm "Dawn". All around these are our fields: oats, buckwheat, millet, wheat. This is our new mill on the river. And there, in the grove, is our big apiary. And over all this I am the main guardian. I have seen crooks, and I have caught horse thieves, but so that at least one fascist appears on my site - if Soviet power this has never happened before. Come to me, Sanka is a formidable person. Let me at least look at you. Wait, wait, just pick up your drool and wipe your nose. I’m scared to look at you anyway.
All this unhurriedly said the mocking old man and looked with curiosity from under the shaggy eyebrows ... at the amazed Sanka who was staring out of his eyes.
- Not true! - sniffled, insulted Sanka yelled. - I'm not a fascist, but all Soviet. And the girl Berta has not been angry for a long time and yesterday she bit off more than half of my apple. And this Pashka sets all the boys on me. He swears himself, but I have screwed up the spring. Since I am a fascist, it means that the spring is also fascist. And he made some kind of rocking chair out of it for his dog. I say to him: "Come on, Pashka, we will make up," and he says: "First, I will remove, and then we will make up."
- We must put up without shit, - Svetlana said with conviction. - We must grapple with little fingers, spit on the ground and say: "Quarrels, quarrels never, but peace, peace forever." Well, grapple! And you, the chief watchman, shout at your terrible dog, and let it not frighten our little Sharik.
- Back, Polkan! - shouted the watchman. - Lie on the ground and don't touch your own!
- Oh, that's who it is! Here he is, Polkan the giant, shaggy and toothed.
Svetlana stood, twisted, came closer and shook her finger:
- And I'm mine, but don't touch your own!
Polkan looked: Svetlana's eyes were clear, her hands smelled of grass and flowers. He smiled and wagged his tail.
Then Sanka and Pashka became jealous, they moved over and also asked:
- And we are ours, but don't touch ours!
Polkan poked his nose suspiciously: does not the cunning boys smell of carrots from the collective farm gardens? But then, as if on purpose, throwing up dust, a stray foal rushed along the path. Polkan sneezed without making it out. To touch - did not touch, but did not wag with his tail and did not allow to stroke.
- We have to go, - I realized. - The sun is high, soon noon. Wow, how hot it is!
- Bye! - Svetlana said goodbye to everyone. - We are going far away again.
- Bye! - the already reconciled children answered unanimously. - Come to us again from afar.
- Goodbye, - the watchman smiled with his eyes. - I do not know where you are going and what you are looking for, but just know: the worst for me is far away - this is to the left by the river, where our old rural cemetery stands. And the best thing is far away - it is to the right, through the meadow, through the ravines where the stone is being dug. Then go by the copse, go around the swamp. There, over the lake, there is a huge pine forest. There are mushrooms, flowers, and raspberries in it. There is a house on the shore. My daughter Valentina and her son Fyodor live in it. And if you get there, then bow to them from me.
Then the strange old man raised his hat, whistled to the dog, puffed with his pipe, leaving behind him a wide strip of thick smoke, and walked towards the yellow pea field.
Svetlana and I looked at each other - what a sad cemetery for us! We grabbed hands and turned to the right, into the best far away.
We crossed the meadows and went down into the ravines.
We saw people dragging a stone, white as sugar, from deep black pits. And not just one lingering pebble. We have already piled up a whole mountain. And the wheels keep turning, the cars creak. And they are still driving. And they pile more.
It can be seen that a lot of all kinds of stones are hidden under the ground.
Svetlana also wanted to look underground. For a long time, lying on her stomach, she looked into the black hole. And when I pulled her by the legs, she told me that at first she saw only one darkness. And then I saw under the ground some kind of black sea, and someone there in the sea was making noise and tossing and turning. It must be a shark with two tails, one tail in the front and the other in the back. And she also fancied the Scarecrow in three hundred twenty-five legs. And with one golden eye. The Scarecrow sits and hums.
I looked slyly at Svetlana and asked if she had seen there at the same time a steamer with two pipes, a gray monkey on a tree and polar bear on an ice floe.
Svetlana thought, she remembered. And it turns out that I also saw it.
I shook my finger at her: oh, isn't he lying? But she laughed in response and started running as fast as she could.
We walked for a long time, often stopped, rested and picked flowers. Then, when they got tired of lugging, they left the bouquets on the road.
I threw one bouquet old grandmother into the cart. The grandmother was frightened at first, not understanding what it was, and shook her fist at us. But then she saw, smiled and threw three large green cucumbers from the cart.
We picked up the cucumbers, wiped them off, put them in a bag and cheerfully went our own way.

On the way we met a village where those who plow the land live, sow bread in the field, plant potatoes, cabbage, beets, or work in orchards and vegetable gardens.
Outside the village, we met low green graves, where those that had already been weeded out and worked out are lying.
We came across a tree shattered by lightning.
We stumbled upon a herd of horses, each of which - even to Budyonny himself.
We also saw a priest in a long black robe. They looked after him and marveled at the fact that there were still some eccentric people left in the world.
Then we got worried when the sky darkened. Clouds came running from everywhere. They surrounded, caught and covered the sun. But it stubbornly burst out into one or the other hole. Finally it escaped and sparkled over the vast land even hotter and brighter.
Far behind was our gray house with a wooden roof.
And Maroussia must have returned a long time ago. Looked - no. I looked - I did not find it. Sits and waits, stupid!
- Dad! - finally said the tired Svetlana. - Let's sit somewhere with you and have something to eat.
We began to search and found such a clearing that not everyone will come across in the world.
Lush branches of wild hazel were thrown open before us with a noise. A young silvery tree stood with its edge towards the sky. And in thousands, brighter than the flags on May Day - blue, red, blue, lilac - fragrant flowers surrounded the tree and stood motionless.
Even the birds did not sing over that clearing - it was so quiet.
Only the gray fool, the crow, thumped from the summer onto the branch, looked around that it had got to the wrong place, croaked in surprise: “Carr… carr…” - and immediately flew away to her filthy garbage pits.
- Sit down, Svetlana, guard the bag, and I'll go and fill a flask of water. Do not be afraid: only one animal lives here - the long-eared hare.
“I’m not even afraid of a thousand birds with one stone,” Svetlana replied boldly, “but you should come as soon as possible.
The water was not close, and, returning, I was already worried about Svetlana.
But she was not frightened and did not cry, but sang.
I hid behind a bush and saw that the red-haired fat Svetlana stood in front of the flowers that rose to her shoulders, and with enthusiasm sang the following song just composed:

Gay! .. Gay! ..
We didn't break the blue cups.
No no!..
The field watchman walks in the field.
But we did not go into the garden for carrots.
And I didn’t climb, and he didn’t climb.
And Sanka once climbed into the garden.
Gay! .. Gay! ..
The Red Army is walking in the field.
(She came from the city.)
The Red Army is the reddest
A white army- the whitest.
Tru-ru-ru! Tra-ta-ta!
These are the drummers
These are the pilots
These are the drummers who fly on airplanes.
And I, the drummer ... stand here.

Silently and solemnly, the tall flowers listened to this song and quietly nodded to Svetlana with their magnificent heads.
- Come to me, drummer! - I shouted, pushing the bushes. - There is cold water, red apples, White bread and yellow gingerbread. Per good song I'm not sorry for anything.
Svetlana was a little embarrassed. She shook her head reproachfully and, just like Marusya, screwing up her eyes, said:
- He hid and eavesdrops. It's a shame, dear comrade!
Suddenly Svetlana became quiet and thoughtful.
And then, while we were eating, a gray siskin suddenly descended onto a branch and chirped something like that.
It was a brave siskin. He sat right in front of us, bouncing, chirping and not flying away.
- This is a familiar siskin, - Svetlana firmly decided. - I saw him when my mother and I were swinging in the garden on a swing. She rocked me high. Fyut! .. Fyut! .. And why did he come to us so far?
- No! No! I replied resolutely. - This is a completely different siskin. You are wrong, Svetlana. That siskin on its tail lacks the feathers that the owner's one-eyed cat ripped out for him. That siskin is fatter, and he chirps in a very different voice.
- No, that one! - Svetlana repeated stubbornly. - I know. It was he who flew so far behind us.
- Gay, gay! - I sang in a sad bass. “But we didn't break the blue cups. And we decided to go for good.
The gray siskin chirped angrily. Not a single flower out of a million swayed or nodded. And the frowning Svetlana sternly said:
- You have a different voice. And people don't sing like that. But only bears.
We gathered in silence. We left the grove. And here, luckily for me, a cool blue river sparkled under the mountain.
And then I raised Svetlana. And when she saw the sandy coast, green islands, she forgot everything in the world and, happily clapping her hands, shouted:
- Bathe! Bathe! Bathe!

To shorten the path, we went straight to the river through damp meadows.
Soon we found ourselves in front of dense thickets of marsh bush. We did not want to return, and we decided to somehow make our way. But the further we went, the tighter the swamp tightened around us.
We circled through the swamp, turned right and left, climbed over flimsy perches, jumped from bump to bump. They got wet, smeared, but could not get out in any way.
And somewhere not far away behind the bushes a herd tossed and mooed, a shepherd snapped a whip and a little dog who sensed us barked angrily. But we saw nothing but rusty swamp water, rotten bushes and sedges.
Already anxiety appeared on the freckled face of the hushed Svetlanka. More and more often she turned around, looking into my face with a silent reproach: “What is this, folder? You are big, strong, but we are really bad! "
- Stay here and don't leave your place! - I ordered, putting Svetlana on a piece of dry land.
I wrapped myself in a thicket, but even in that direction there was only a green goo intertwined with fat bog flowers.

I returned and saw that Svetlana was not standing at all, but carefully, holding onto the bushes, was making her way towards me.
- Stop where you put it! I said sharply.
Svetlana stopped. Her eyes blinked and her lips twitched.
- What are you shouting? - in a trembling voice she asked quietly. - I'm barefoot, and there are frogs - and I'm scared.
And I felt very sorry for Svetlanka, who was in trouble because of me.
- Here, take a stick, - I shouted, - and beat them, worthless frogs, on whatever! Just stand still! Let's get over now.
I turned again into a thicket and got angry. What is it? Is it really possible to compare this filthy swamp with the endless reeds of the wide Dnieper region or with the gloomy marshes of the Akhtyrka, where we once smashed and strangled the white Wrangel landing party!
From bump to bump, from bush to bush. Once - and waist-deep in water. Two - and dry aspen crunched. Following the aspen, a rotten log flew into the mud. A rotten stump plopped down hard. Here is the support. Here's another puddle. And here it is, a dry shore.
And, pushing the reed apart, I found myself next to a frightened goat that jumped up.
- Hey, gay! Svetlana! I shouted. - You stand?
- Hey, gay! - Quietly came a plaintive thin voice from the thicket. - I'm a hundred-oh-oh!

We made our way to the river. We cleaned off all the dirt and slime that covered us from all sides. We rinsed our clothes, and while they dried on the hot sand, we swam.

And all the fish rushed away in horror into their deep depths, when we whipped up the sparkling foamy waterfalls with laughter.
And the black mustachioed crayfish, which I pulled out of its underwater country, rolling with my round eyes, scrambled and jumped in fear: it must have been the first time I saw such an unbearable bright sun and such an intolerably ginger girl.
And then, having contrived, he angrily grabbed Svetlana's finger. With a cry, Svetlana threw him into the very middle of the goose herd. The stupid fat goslings scampered to the sides.
But an old gray goose came up from the side. He had seen many and more terrible in the world. He squinted his head, looked with one eye, pecked - then he, cancer, and death came.
... But here we bathed, dried up, dressed and moved on.
And again, we came across a lot of everyone along the way: people, horses, carts, cars, and even a gray beast - a hedgehog, which we took with us. Yes, only he soon pricked our hands, and we pushed him into the icy stream.
The hedgehog snorted and swam to the other side. “Here,” he thinks, “disgraceful! Now look for your hole from here. "
And we finally went out to the lake.
It was here that the most distant field of the "Rassvet" collective farm ended, and on the other bank the lands of "Krasnaya Zarya" were already spread out.
Then we saw at the edge log house and immediately guessed that the watchman's daughter Valentina and her son Fyodor lived here.
We approached the fence from the side from which the estate was guarded by tall, like soldiers, flowers - sunflowers.
Valentina herself stood on the porch in the garden. She was tall and broad-shouldered, like her father, a watchman. The collar of the blue sweater was thrown open. She held a floor brush in one hand and a wet rag in the other.
- Fedor! She shouted sternly. - Where are you, you scoundrel, touched the gray pan?
- Wow! - an important voice sounded from under the raspberries, and the fair-haired Fedor pointed to a puddle where a saucepan was floating, loaded with wood chips and grass.
- And where, shameless, hid the sieve?
- Wow! - Fyodor answered in the same important way and pointed to a sieve pressed down by a stone, under which something was tossing and turning.
- Wait a minute, chieftain! .. You come home, I will smooth you with a wet rag, - Valentina threatened and, seeing us, pulled up her tucked skirt.
- Hello! - I said. - Father sends you a bow.
- Thanks! - Valentina responded. - Go to the garden, relax.
We went through the gate and lay down under a ripe apple tree.
Fat son Fyodor was in only one shirt, and his wet trousers soiled with clay lay in the grass.
“I eat raspberries,” Fyodor told us seriously. - I ate two bushes. And I will.
- Eat to your health, - I wished. - Just look, friend, do not burst.
Fyodor stopped, poked himself in the stomach with his fist, looked angrily at me and, grabbing his pants, waddled towards the house.
For a long time we lay in silence. It seemed to me that Svetlana fell asleep. I turned to her and saw that she was not asleep at all, but, holding her breath, was looking at the silvery butterfly, which was quietly crawling along the sleeve of her pink dress.
And suddenly there was a powerful rumbling rumble, the air trembled, and the shiny plane, like a storm, rushed over the tops of the quiet apple trees.
Svetlana shuddered, a butterfly fluttered, a yellow rooster flew off the fence, a frightened jackdaw flashed across the sky with a cry - and everything was quiet.
- This is the same pilot who flew by, - Svetlana said with annoyance, - this is the one who came to us yesterday.
- Why is that? I asked, raising my head. - Maybe it's completely different.
- No, the same one. I myself heard yesterday how he told my mother that he was leaving tomorrow far and for good. I ate a red tomato, and my mother answered him: “Well, goodbye. Happy way»…
- Folder, - Svetlana asked, sitting on my stomach, - tell me something about mom. Well, for example, how it was when I was not there yet.
- As it was? Yes, everything was the same. First day, then night, then day again, and another night ...
- And a thousand more days! - Svetlana interrupted impatiently. - Well, here you are and tell me what happened these days. You know yourself, but you pretend ...
- Okay, I'll tell you, only you get off me on the grass, otherwise it will be hard for me to tell. Well, listen! ..

Then our Marusa was seventeen years old. White attacked their town, they seized Marusya's father and put him in prison. And her mother was gone for a long time, and our Marusya was left all alone ...
- Something's feeling sorry for her, - moving closer, inserted Svetlana.
- Well, tell me further.
- Marusya threw a handkerchief and ran out into the street. And on the street, white soldiers lead both workers and women workers to the prison. And the bourgeois, of course, are happy with the white people, and everywhere in their houses lights are burning, music is playing. And our Marusa has nowhere to go, and there is no one to tell her about her grief ...
“Something is already quite a pity,” Svetlana interrupted impatiently. - You, folder, tell the red ones soon.
- Then Marusya went out of town. The moon was shining. The wind rustled. And a wide steppe stretched out in front of Marusya ...
- With wolves?
- No, no wolves. The wolves then hid from the shooting in the woods. And Marusya thought: “I'll run away across the steppe to the city of Belgorod. There is the Red Army of Comrade Voroshilov. He is said to be very brave. And if you ask, then maybe it will help. "
And that stupid Marusya did not know that the Red Army never expects to be asked for. And she herself rushes to help where the whites attacked. And already close to Marusya our Red Army detachments are advancing across the steppe. And each rifle is loaded with five rounds, and each machine gun is loaded with two hundred and fifty rounds.
Then I rode across the steppe with a military patrol. Suddenly someone's shadow flashed and immediately - over the hillock. “Aha! - think. - Stop: white scout. You won't go anywhere further. "
I hit the horse with my spurs. I jumped over the hillock. I looked - what a miracle: there is no white scout, but some girl is standing under the moonlight. The face is not visible, and only the hair flutters in the wind.
I jumped off the horse, and hold the revolver in my hand just in case. I came up and asked: "Who are you and why are you running around the steppe at midnight?"
And the moon came out big, tremendous! The girl on my hat saw a Red Army star, hugged me and began to cry.
It was here that we met with her, with Marusya.
And in the morning we knocked the whites out of the city. The prisons were opened and the workers were released.
Here I am in the afternoon in the infirmary. My chest is a little shot. And my shoulder hurts: when I fell from a horse, I hit a stone.
My squadron commander comes to me and says:
“Well, goodbye, we go further after the whites. You are wearing good tobacco and paper as a gift from your comrades, lie still and get well soon. "
So the day has passed. Hello evening! And my chest hurts, and my shoulder hurts. And the heart is bored. It's boring, friend Svetlana, to be alone without comrades!
Suddenly the door opened, and quickly, noiselessly Marusya entered on her toes! And then I was so happy that I even screamed.
And Marusya came up, sat down next to me and put her hand on my very hot head and said:
“I was looking for you all day after the battle. Does it hurt you, dear? "
And I say:
“I don't give a damn that it hurts, Marusya. Why are you so pale? "
“You sleep,” answered Marusya. - Sleep tight. I will be near you all the days. "
It was then that Marusya and I met for the second time, and since then we have always lived together.

- Folder, - Svetlana asked excitedly then. “We didn't really leave home, did we?” She loves us. We just walk around, walk around and come again.
- How do you know what he loves? Maybe he still loves you, but I no longer exist.
- Oh, you're lying! - Svetlana shook her head. - I woke up last night, I look, my mother put down the book, turned to you and looks at you for a long time.
- Eco thing that looks! She even looks out the window, looks at all people! There are eyes, so he looks.
- Oh, No! - Svetlana objected convincingly. - When in the window, it looks completely different, but here's how ...
Then Svetlana raised her thin eyebrows, tilted her head to one side, pursed her lips and looked indifferently at the rooster passing by.
- And when they love, they do not look like that.
As if a radiance lit up Svetlanka's blue eyes, drooping eyelashes flinched, and a sweet, pensive Marusin's gaze fell on my face.
- Rogue! - picking up Svetlana, I shouted. “How did you look at me yesterday when you spilled the ink?”
- Well, then you kicked me out the door, and the vykannye always look angrily.

We didn't break the blue cups. Perhaps Marusya herself somehow broke it. But we forgave her. You never know who will think bad things in vain? Once Svetlana also thought of me. Yes, I myself thought badly about Marusya too. And I went to the hostess Valentina to ask if we could get closer to the house.
- Now my husband will go to the station, - said Valentina. - He will take you to the mill itself, and there it is already not far.
Returning to the garden, I met an embarrassed Svetlana at the porch.
“Dad,” she said in a mysterious whisper, “this son Fyodor crawled out of raspberries and pulls gingerbread out of your bag.
We went to the apple tree, but the cunning son Fyodor, seeing us, hastily hid in the midst of the burdocks under the fence.
- Fedor! I called. - Come here, don't be afraid.
The tops of the burdocks swayed, and it was clear that Fedor was resolutely moving away.
- Fedor! I repeated. - Go here. I'll give you all the gingerbread.
The burdocks stopped swaying, and soon a heavy puffing came from the thicket.
“I’m standing,” said an angry voice at last, “here without pants, everywhere nettles.
Then, like a giant over the forest, I walked over the burdocks, took out the stern Fyodor and poured all the remains from the sack in front of him.
He unhurriedly tucked everything into the hem of his shirt and, without even saying "thank you," went to the other end of the garden.
- Look how important, - Svetlana remarked disapprovingly, - he took off his pants and walks like a master!
A cart pulled by a pair drove up to the house. Valentina came out onto the porch:
- Get ready, the horses are good - they will drive quickly.
Fyodor appeared again. He was now in trousers and, walking quickly, was dragging a pretty smoky kitten by the collar. The kitten must have got used to such grips, because it didn’t pull away, didn’t meow, but only impatiently twiddled its fluffy tail.

- On! - said Fedor and thrust the kitten into Svetlana.
- Absolutely? - Svetlana was delighted and looked at me hesitantly.
- Take it, take it if necessary, - suggested Valentina. - We have a lot of this stuff. Fedor! Why did you hide the gingerbread in cabbage beds? I saw everything through the window.
“Now I’ll go and hide it even further,” Fyodor reassured her and waddled away like an important clumsy bear cub.
- All in a grandfather, - Valentina smiled. - A sort of healthy. And only four years.

We drove along a wide, flat road. Evening was falling. Tired but cheerful people came to meet us from work.
A collective farm truck rumbled into the garage.
A war trumpet sang in the field.
A signal bell rang in the village.
A heavy-heavy steam locomotive began to hum behind the forest. Tuu! .. Tu! .. Turn around, wheels, hurry up, wagons, railway, long, distant!
And, tightly clutching the fluffy kitten, happy Svetlana sang the following song to the sound of the cart:

Chiki-chiki!
Mice are walking.
They walk with their tails
Very angry.
They climb everywhere.
They climb onto the shelf.
Fuck-bangers!
And the cup flies.
Who's to blame?
Well, no one is to blame.
Only mice
From black holes.
- Hello, mice!
We returned.
And what is it
Are we taking it with us? ..
It meows
It jumps
And drinks milk from a saucer.
Now get out
V black holes,
Or will it tear you apart
In pieces,
Ten pieces
Twenty pieces
One hundred million
Shaggy pieces.

Near the mill we jumped off the cart.
It was audible how Pashka Bukamashkin, Sanka, Berta and someone else were playing outside the fence.
- Don't cheat! - the indignant Sanka shouted to Berta. - They spoke at me, and then they themselves stride.
- Someone is walking there again, - explained Svetlana, - they must now quarrel again. - And, sighing, she added: - Such a game!
With excitement we approached the house. It only remained to turn the corner and go upstairs.
Suddenly we looked at each other in confusion and stopped.
Neither the leaky fence nor the high porch could be seen yet, but the wooden roof of our gray house had already appeared, and our luxurious sparkling turntable was spinning above it with a cheerful hum.
- It was the mother herself who climbed onto the roof! - Svetlana screamed and pulled me forward.
We went up the hill.
The orange rays of the evening sun lit up the porch. And on him, in a red dress, without a scarf and in sandals on bare feet, our Marusya stood and smiled.
- Laugh, laugh! - Svetlana, who ran up to her, allowed her. - We have forgiven you anyway.
I came up and looked Marusa in the face.
Marusya's eyes were brown, and they looked kindly. It was evident that she had been waiting for us for a long time, at last she had waited and now she was very happy.
“No,” I decided firmly, tossing away the scattered shards of a blue cup with the toe of my boot. - It's all just gray angry mice. And we didn't break. And Maroussia didn't break anything either. "
... And then there was evening. And the moon and the stars.
For a long time, the three of us sat in the garden, under ripe cherry, and Marusya told us where she was, what she did and what she saw.
And Svetlankin's story would have dragged on, probably until midnight, if Marusya had not caught herself and drove her to sleep.
- Well?! - taking the sleepy kitten with her, the sly Svetlanka asked me. - Is it really bad life now?
We also got up.
A golden moon shone over our garden.
A distant train roared to the north.
The midnight pilot hummed and disappeared into the clouds.
- And life, comrades ... was very good!

Notes (edit)

For the first time the story "Blue Cup" was published in the January issue of the magazine "Pioneer" for 1936. In the same year, the story was published as a separate book in Detizdat.
The story can be considered to be autobiographical to a certain extent. "I was then thirty-two years old ..." - this is how the "Blue Cup" begins. In the summer of 1935, when Arkady Gaidar wrote these words in a village near Arzamas, and in the fall in Maleevka, near Moscow, when the writer was finishing his story, he was really in his thirty-second year. On the front roads civil war he met Marusya - Maria Plaksina. In the first version of the "Blue Cup" there was not a daughter, Svetlana, but a son - Dimka ...
But, of course, this is not the point. The story "Blue Cup" is autobiographical in a different, higher sense of the word. In this story, Arkady Gaidar widely opens up his inner world... Here, more clearly than in other works of the writer, we see Arkady Gaidar himself, as he was in his thirty-two years. His voice sounds free, uninhibited, he is full of human warmth and kindness, soft humor allows you to convincingly and unobtrusively express important thoughts.
The writer walks with Svetlana through this Gaidar world - the world of the kind, courageous, honest people, adults and children who live in a beautiful country, are close friends and build together new life... At first, the writer was going to call the story so - "The Good Life".
However, for Arkady Gaidar, a good life does not at all mean a thoughtless or serene life. Into a story full of warmth, sun, filled with smells summer field, the echoes of great, formidable events burst in. This happens when, on a clear day, somewhere in the distance beyond the horizon, a thunderstorm grumbles. The Nazis seized power in Germany. From there to Soviet Union the girl Bertha came with her father, an anti-fascist. Part of the Red Army went out into the field for military exercises. Perhaps they will soon have to repel the attack of the enemy ...
There is another very important layer in the depth of the story. A cloud suddenly hung over the friendly family, threatening to destroy this family. Was it really overhanging, or was it just it seemed, it seemed?
The writer introduces this topic very subtly, with great tact. It is only outlined, indicated by a few strokes, but anxiety settles in the heart of the reader. And that is why again, at once, the world brightens so much when little Svetlana, sensitively understanding the unspoken doubts of her father, helps to drive away the cloud, helps to understand that "And Marusya did not break anything either."
The appearance of the Blue Cup sparked a debate. “Some consider this book to be a gratifying phenomenon in children's literature. Others find it “unsuitable” for children, “unacceptable” and even “outrageous”, noted A. Zhavoronkova (magazine “Children's Literature” No 5, 1937).
The critic A. Derman, summing up the discussion on the Blue Cup, wrote: “... The fact that the guys eagerly listen to and read Gaidar's book is still decisive. It seems to me that it is from facts of this kind that one should deduce theories about the suitability of this or that plot, this or that composition for the child's reader. Good fiction books are not created on the basis of good theories, but, on the contrary, good theories are built on a careful analysis of the latter ”(Children's Literature, No. 19–20, 1937) Time has also confirmed the correctness of this assessment. Now, half a century after the story was written, The Blue Cup, in the unanimous opinion of writers and critics, remains one of the best children's stories in Soviet literature.
In The Blue Cup, Arkady Gaidar again and, perhaps, especially convincingly showed that there are no questions about which one cannot have an honest conversation with young readers. It's all about how to conduct such a conversation.

To shorten the path, we went straight to the river through damp meadows.

Soon we found ourselves in front of dense thickets of marsh bush. We did not want to return, and we decided to somehow make our way. But the further we went, the tighter the swamp tightened around us.

We circled through the swamp, turned right and left, climbed over flimsy perches, jumped from bump to bump. They got wet, smeared, but could not get out in any way.

And somewhere quite nearby, behind the bushes, a herd tossed and mooed, a shepherd snapped with a whip and a little dog barked angrily when it sensed us. But we saw nothing but rusty swamp water, rotten bushes and sedges.

Already anxiety appeared on the freckled face of the hushed Svetlanka. More and more often she turned around, looking into my face with a silent reproach: "What is this, folder? You are big, strong, but we are really bad!"

I wrapped myself in a thicket, but even in that direction there was only green goo intertwined with fat bog flowers.

I returned and saw that Svetlana was not standing at all, but carefully, holding onto the bushes, was making her way towards me.

Stay where you put it! I said sharply.

Svetlana stopped. Her eyes blinked and her lips twitched.

And I felt very sorry for Svetlanka, who got into trouble because of me.

Here, take a stick, - I shouted, - and beat them, worthless frogs, anywhere! Just stand still! Let's get over now.

I turned again into a thicket and got angry. What is it? Is it possible to compare this filthy swamp with the endless reeds of the wide Dnieper region or with the gloomy floodplains of the Akhtyrka, where we once smashed and strangled the white Wrangel landing party!

From bump to bump, from bush to bush. Once - and waist-deep in water. Two - and dry aspen crunched. Following the aspen, a rotten log flew into the mud. A rotten stump plopped down hard. Here is the support. Here's another puddle. And here it is, a dry shore.

And, pushing the reed apart, I found myself next to a frightened goat that jumped up.

Hey gay! Svetlana! I shouted. - You stand?

Hey gay! - A plaintive thin voice came quietly from the thicket. - I'm a hundred-oh!

We made our way to the river. We cleaned off all the dirt and slime that covered us from all sides. We rinsed our clothes, and while they dried on the hot sand, we swam.

And all the fish rushed away in horror into their deep depths, when we whipped up the sparkling foamy waterfalls with laughter.

And the black mustachioed crayfish, which I pulled out of its underwater country, turning with my round eyes, scrambled and jumped in fear: it must have been the first time I saw such an unbearably bright sun and such an unbearably red-haired girl.

And then, having contrived, he angrily grabbed Svetlana's finger. With a cry, Svetlana threw him into the very middle of the goose herd. The stupid fat goslings scampered to the sides.

But an old gray goose came up from the side. He had seen many and more terrible in the world. He squinted his head, looked with one eye, pecked - then he, cancer, and death came.

... But here we bathed, dried up, dressed and moved on.

And again, we came across a lot of everyone along the way: people, horses, carts, cars, and even a gray beast - a hedgehog, which we took with us. Yes, only he soon pricked our hands, and we pushed him into the icy stream.

The hedgehog snorted and swam to the other side. "Here," he thinks, "ugly! Look now for your hole from here."

And we finally went out to the lake.

We approached the fence from the side from which the estate was guarded by tall, like soldiers, flowers - sunflowers.

Valentina herself stood on the porch in the garden. She was tall and broad-shouldered, like her father, a watchman. The collar of the blue sweater was thrown open. She held a floor brush in one hand and a wet rag in the other.

Fedor! she shouted sternly. - Where are you, you scoundrel, touched the gray pan?

Won! - an important voice sounded from under the raspberries, and the fair-haired Fedor pointed to the puddle, where a saucepan, laden with wood chips and grass, was floating.

And where, shameless, hid the sieve?

Won! - Fyodor answered in the same important way and pointed to a sieve pressed down by a stone, under which something was tossing and turning.

Wait a minute, chieftain! .. When you come home, I’ll smooth you with a wet rag, ”Valentina threatened and, seeing us, pulled up her tucked up skirt.

Hello! - I said. - Father sends you a bow.

Thanks! - Valentina responded. - Go to the garden, relax.

We went through the gate and lay down under a ripe apple tree.

Fat son Fyodor wore only one shirt, and his wet trousers soiled with clay lay in the grass.

I eat raspberries, - Fyodor told us seriously. - I ate two bushes. And I will still.

Eat to your health, - I wished. - Just look, friend, do not burst.

Fyodor stopped, poked himself in the stomach with his fist, looked angrily at me and, grabbing his pants, waddled towards the house.

For a long time we lay in silence. It seemed to me that Svetlana fell asleep. I turned to her and saw that she was not sleeping at all, but, holding her breath, was looking at the silvery butterfly, which was quietly crawling along the sleeve of her pink dress.

And suddenly there was a powerful rumbling rumble, the air trembled, and the shiny plane, like a storm, rushed over the tops of the quiet apple trees.

Svetlana shuddered, a butterfly fluttered, a yellow rooster flew off the fence, a frightened jackdaw flashed across the sky with a cry - and everything was quiet.

This is the same pilot who flew by, - Svetlana said with annoyance, - this is the one who came to us yesterday.

Why is that one? I asked, raising my head. - Maybe it's completely different.

No, that one. I myself heard yesterday how he told my mother that he was leaving tomorrow far and for good. I ate a red tomato, and my mother answered him: "Well, goodbye. Happy journey" ...

Folder, - sitting on my stomach, asked Svetlana, - tell me something about mom. Well, for example, how it was when I was not there yet.

As it was? Yes, everything was the same. First day, then night, then day again, and another night ...

And a thousand more days! - Svetlana interrupted impatiently. - Well, here you are and tell me what happened these days. You know yourself, but you pretend ...

Okay, I'll tell you, just get off me onto the grass, otherwise it will be hard for me to tell. Well, listen! ..

Then our Marusa was seventeen years old. White attacked their town, they seized Marusya's father and put him in prison. And her mother was gone for a long time, and our Marusya was left all alone ...

Something feels sorry for her, - moving closer, put in Svetlana. - Well, tell me further.

She threw a handkerchief to Marusya and ran out into the street. And on the street, white soldiers lead both workers and women workers to the prison. And the bourgeois, of course, are happy with the white people, and everywhere in their houses lights are burning, music is playing. And our Marusa has nowhere to go, and there is no one to tell her about her grief ...

Something is already quite a pity, - Svetlana interrupted impatiently. - You, folder, tell the red ones soon.

Then Marusya went out of town. The moon was shining. The wind rustled. And a wide steppe stretched out in front of Marusya ...

With wolves?

No, no wolves. The wolves then hid from the shooting in the woods. And Marusya thought: "I will run away across the steppe to the city of Belgorod. Comrade Voroshilov's Red Army is there. He, they say, is very brave. And if you ask, then maybe he will help."

And that stupid Marusya did not know that the Red Army never expects to be asked for. And she herself rushes to help where the whites attacked. And already close to Marusya our Red Army detachments are advancing across the steppe. And each rifle is loaded with five rounds, and each machine gun is loaded with two hundred and fifty rounds.

Then I rode across the steppe with a military patrol. Suddenly, a shadow flashed across the hill. "Aha! - I think. - Stop: white scout. You won't go anywhere further."

I hit the horse with my spurs. I jumped over the hillock. I looked - what a miracle: there is no white scout, but some girl is standing under the moonlight. The face is not visible, and only the hair flutters in the wind.

And Marusya came up, sat down next to me and put her hand on my very hot head and said:

"I've been looking for you all day after the fight. Does it hurt you, dear?"

I was then thirty-two years old. Marusa is twenty-nine, and our daughter Svetlana is six and a half. Only at the end of summer I got a vacation, and for the last warm month we rented a dacha near Moscow.

Svetlana and I thought about fishing, swimming, picking mushrooms and nuts in the forest. And I had to immediately sweep the yard, fix the dilapidated fences, stretch the ropes, hammer in crutches and nails.

We got tired of all this very soon, and Marusya, one after the other, keeps on inventing new and new things for herself and for us.

Only on the third day in the evening everything was finally done. And just when the three of us were about to go for a walk, her comrade, a polar pilot, came to Marusa.

They sat for a long time in the garden, under the cherries. And Svetlana and I went into the yard to the barn and out of frustration set about making a wooden turntable.

When it got dark, Marusya shouted for Svetlana to drink milk and go to bed, and she herself went to see the pilot to the station.

But I got bored without Marusya, and Svetlana did not want to sleep alone in an empty house.

We got flour from the closet. We brewed it with boiling water - it turned out to be a paste.

We pasted over the smooth turntable with colored paper, smoothed it thoroughly and climbed through the dusty attic onto the roof.

Here we are sitting astride the roof. And we can see from above, as in the neighboring garden, by the porch, a samovar is smoking a pipe. And on the porch sits a lame old man with a balalaika, and children crowd around him.

Then a barefooted, hunched old woman jumped out of the black passage. She turned the children around, scolded the old man and, grabbing a rag, began to slap on the burner of the samovar to make it boil faster.

We laughed and think: if the wind blows, our fast turntable will whirl, whirr. Children from all the yards will run to our house. Then we will have our own company.

And tomorrow we'll think of something else.

Maybe we'll dig a deep cave for the frog that lives in our garden, near the damp cellar.

Maybe we will ask Marusya for some harsh threads and launch a kite - above the silo tower, above the yellow pines and even above that kite that has been guarding the master's chickens and rabbits from the sky all day today.

Or maybe tomorrow, early in the morning, we will sit in the boat - I will row, Marusya is behind the wheel, Svetlana is a passenger - and we will sail along the river to where there is, they say, a large forest, where two hollow birches grow on the bank, under which a neighbor girl three good porcini mushrooms. The only pity is that they were all wormy.

Suddenly Svetlana pulled my sleeve and said:

Look, dad, but it seems that our mom is coming, and no matter how it gets to you and me.

Indeed, our Marusya is walking along the path along the fence, but we thought that she would not return soon.

Bend over, - I said to Svetlana. “Maybe she won't notice.

But Marusya immediately noticed us, raised her head and shouted:

Why are you, worthless people, climbed onto the roof? It's already damp in the yard. It is high time for Svetlana to sleep. And you were glad that I was not at home, and are ready to pamper me even until midnight.

Marusya, - I replied, - we do not spoil, we nail the turntable. Wait a little, we only have three nails left to finish.

Finish it tomorrow! - ordered Marusya. - Now get off, or I'll be completely angry.

Svetlana and I looked at each other. We see our business is bad. They took it and got off. But they took offense at Marusya.

And although Marusya brought a big apple from the station to Svetlana and a pack of tobacco for me, they were still offended.

So with resentment and fell asleep.

And in the morning - still a new thing! We just woke up, Marusya comes up and asks:

You better confess, you mischievous people, that they broke my blue cup in the closet!

And I didn't break the cups. And Svetlana says that she did not break it either. We looked at each other with her and both thought that Marusya was talking about us in vain.

But Marusya didn't believe us.

The cups, she says, are not alive: they have no legs. They do not know how to jump to the floor. And besides you two, nobody climbed into the closet yesterday. Broke and do not confess. It's a shame, comrades!

After breakfast, Marusya suddenly got ready and went to the city, and we sat down and thought.

Here we go on the boat!

And the sun looks into our windows. And the sparrows gallop along the sandy paths. And the chickens dash through the wooden fence from yard to street and from street to yard.

And we're not having fun at all.

Well! - I say to Svetlana. “You and I were driven off the roof yesterday. A can of kerosene was recently taken away from us. They scolded in vain for some blue cup. Is this a good life?

Of course, - says Svetlana, - life is absolutely bad.

Come on, Svetlana, put on your pink dress. We will take my camping bag from behind the stove, put your apple, my tobacco, matches, knife, bun, and leave this house wherever we can.

Svetlana thought and asks:

Where are your eyes looking?

And they, Svetlana, look through the window, here at that yellow meadow where the mistress's cow grazes. And beyond the clearing, I know, there is a goose pond, and beyond the pond there is a water mill, and behind the mill on the mountain Birch Grove... And what is behind the mountain - I myself do not know.

Okay, - agreed Svetlana, - let's take bread, and an apple, and tobacco, but just take another thick stick with you, because somewhere in that side lives the terrible dog Polkan. And the boys told me about her that she just ate one to death.

And so we did. They put what they needed in the bag, closed all five windows, locked both doors, and slipped the key under the porch.

Goodbye, Marusya! And we didn’t break your cups anyway.

We went out the gate, and a milkmaid met us.

Do you need milk?

No, grandma! We don't need anything else.

My milk is fresh, good, from my cow, - the milkmaid was offended. - Come back, so sorry.

She thundered with her cold cans and walked on. And where can she guess that we are going far and may not return?

And no one knew about it. A tanned boy rode a bike. Probably walking into the forest for mushrooms, a fat guy in shorts and with a pipe. A blond girl with her hair wet after bathing passed by. And we did not meet any acquaintances.

We got out through the vegetable gardens to a clearing yellow from night blindness, took off our sandals and walked barefoot along the warm path across the meadow straight to the mill.

We walk, we walk, and now we see that a man is rushing from the mill in full spirit to meet us. He bent down, and from behind the bush bushes clods of earth are flying at his back. It seemed strange to us. What? Svetlana's eyes are sharp-sighted, she stopped and said:

And I know who is running. This is a boy, Sanka Karjakin, who lives near the house where some pigs climbed into the tomato beds in the garden. Yesterday, just opposite our dacha, he rode a strange goat on horseback. Do you remember?

Sanka ran up to us, stopped and wipes his tears with a cotton bag. And we ask him:

Why, Sanka, you were rushing with all your might, and why did clods fly after you from behind the bushes?

Sanka turned away and said:

My grandmother sent me to the collective farm shop for salt. And the pioneer Pashka Bukamashkin is sitting at the mill, and he wants to tear me up.

Svetlana looked at him. That's the way it is!

Isn't there such a law in the Soviet country that a person would run to a collective farm shop for salt, not touch anyone, bully and suddenly they would start to tear him up for no reason at all?

Come with us, Sanka, - says Svetlana. - Do not be afraid. We are on our way, and we will intercede for you.

The three of us went through the thick broom.

Here he is, Pashka Bukamashkin, - said Sanka and backed away.

We see - there is a mill. There is a cart near the mill. Under the cart lies a curly little dog, all covered in burdocks, and, opening one eye, watches the nimble sparrows peck at the grains scattered on the sand. And on a pile of sand, Pashka Bukamashkin sits without a shirt and gnaws a fresh cucumber.

Pashka saw us, but was not scared, and threw the stub at the little dog and said, without looking at anyone:

Huh! .. Sharik ... Huh! .. There is a well-known fascist, White Guard Sanka coming here. Wait, unfortunate fascist! We will deal with you yet.

Then Pashka spat far into the sand. The curly little dog growled. The frightened sparrows roared up the tree. And Svetlana and I, having heard such words, came closer to Pashka.

Wait, Pashka, - I said. - Maybe you were wrong? What kind of a fascist is this, a White Guard? After all, this is simply Sanka Karjakin, who lives near the house where someone's pigs climbed into tomato beds in someone else's garden.

All the same, a White Guard, - Pashka stubbornly repeated. “And if you don’t believe it, do you want me to tell you his whole story?”

Here Svetlana and I really wanted to know Sankin's entire story. We sat on the logs, Pashka opposite. A curly little dog at our feet, on the grass. Only Sanka did not sit down, but, leaving behind the cart, shouted angrily from there:

Then tell me everything! And how it hit me on the back of the head, tell me too. You think the back of your head doesn't hurt? Take yourself and knock.

There is a city of Dresden in Germany, - Pashka said calmly, - and from this city one worker, a Jew, fled from the Nazis. He ran away and came to us. And the girl came with him, Bertha. He himself now works at this mill, and Berta plays with us. Only now she ran to the village for milk. So, the day before yesterday we were playing siskin: me, Berta, this man, Sanka, and one more from the village. Berta hits the siskin with a stick and accidentally hits this Sanka on the back of the head, or something ...

I hit it right on the top of my head, - said Sanka from behind the cart. - My head started to buzz, and she still laughs.

Well, - Pashka went on, - she hit this Sanka on the top of the head with a siska. He first fisted at her, and then nothing. He put a burdock to his head - and again he plays with us. Only after that he became impossible to cheat. He will take an extra step and aim with a siskin right on the line.

You're lying, you're lying! - Sanka jumped out from behind the cart. - It was your dog who poked his face, here he is, a siskin, and rolled up.

And you are not playing with the dog, but with us. I would take it and put the siskin in its place. Well. He threw the siskin, and Berta, as soon as he had enough with a stick, so this siskin flew right to the other end of the field, into the nettles. We find it funny, but Sanka is angry. It is clear that he is reluctant to run after the siskin into the nettles ... He climbed over the fence and yells from there: “You fool, you Jewess! So that you fail back to your Germany! " But Berta already understands a fool in Russian well, but still does not understand the Jewish woman in any way. She comes up to me and asks: "What is this Jewess?" And I am ashamed to say. I shout: "Shut up, Sanka!" And he deliberately shouts louder and louder. I follow him over the fence. He is in the bushes. So he disappeared. When I returned, I looked: the stick was lying on the grass, and Berta was sitting in the corner on the logs. I call: "Bertha!" She is not responding. I came up - I see: there are tears in her eyes. So she guessed it herself. Then I picked up a stone from the ground, put it in my pocket and thought: “Well, wait, damn Sanka! This is not Germany. We can handle your fascism ourselves! "

We looked at Sanka and thought: “Well, brother, you have a bad story. Even listening is disgusting. And we were still going to intercede for you. "

And I was just about to say this, when suddenly the mill trembled and began to rustle, a rested wheel spun on the water. A cat sprinkled with flour, dazed with fright, jumped out of the mill window. Sleepily missed and fell right on the back of the dozing Sharik. The ball screeched and jumped. The cat darted to the tree, the sparrows from the tree to the roof. The horse lifted its muzzle and jerked the cart. And from the shed some shaggy uncle, gray with flour, looked out and, without understanding, threatened Sanka with a long whip, who had jumped off the cart:

But, but ... look, do not spoil, otherwise I will vigorously pull out!

Svetlana laughed, and she felt sorry for this unfortunate Sanka, whom everyone wants to rip out.

Dad, she told me. - Maybe he is not such a fascist at all? Maybe he's just a fool? Is it true, Sanka, that you are just a fool? - asked Svetlana and looked tenderly into his face.

In response, Sanka just snorted angrily, shook his head, sniffed and wanted to say something. And what can you say when you are all around yourself to blame and, in truth, there is nothing to say.

But then Pashka's little dog suddenly stopped yelling at the cat and, turning to the field, raised its ears.

Somewhere beyond the grove, a shot slammed. Another. Both off and on! ..

Fight nearby! - Pashka cried out.

The fight is nearby, - I said. - It's firing from rifles. But do you hear? The machine gun shot it.

Pashka was the first to jump up. The dog ran after him. I picked up Svetlana in my arms and also ran to the grove.

We did not have time to run half the road when we heard a cry behind us. We turned around and saw Sanka.

Raising his arms high so that we would notice him sooner, he rushed towards us straight through the ditches and hummocks.

Look how a goat gallops! - muttered Pashka. - And what is this fool swinging over his head?

This is not a fool. He's dragging my sandals! - Svetlana shouted joyfully. - I forgot them on the logs, but he found them and brings them to me. You would make peace with him, Pashka!

Pashka frowned and said nothing. We waited for Sanka, took Svetlana's yellow sandals from him. And now the four of us, with the dog, went through the grove to the edge.

In front of us was a hilly field overgrown with bushes. By the stream, a goat tied to a peg was nibbling at the grass, jingling with a tin bell. A lonely kite was flying smoothly in the sky. That's all. And there was no one and nothing else in this field.

So where is the war here? - Svetlana asked impatiently.

And now I'll take a look, - said Pashka and climbed onto the tree stump.

For a long time he stood, squinting from the sun and covering his eyes with his palm. And who knows what he saw there, but only Svetlana got tired of waiting, and she, tangled in the grass, went herself to look for a war.

The grass is high for me, and I am low, ”Svetlana complained, standing up on tiptoe. “And I don’t see at all.

Look under your feet, don't touch the wire, ”a loud voice sounded from above.

In an instant, Pashka flew off the hemp. Awkwardly, he bounced towards Sanka. And Svetlana rushed to me and grabbed my hand tightly.

We backed away and then saw that right above us, in the dense branches of a lonely tree, a Red Army soldier was hiding.

The rifle hung on a branch next to him. In one hand he held a telephone receiver and, without moving, looked through shiny black binoculars somewhere at the edge of a deserted field.

Before we had time to utter the words, from afar, like thunder with ripples and ripples, a terrible cannon salvo struck. The ground shook underfoot. Far from us, a cloud of black dust and smoke rose over the field. Like a madman, the goat jumped up and fell off the urine rope. And the kite swerved in the sky and, quickly flapping its wings, sped away.

It’s bad for the fascists! - Pashka said loudly and looked at Sanka. - This is how our batteries beat.

It’s bad for the Nazis, ”a hoarse voice echoed.

And then we saw that a gray-haired, bearded old man was standing under the bushes.

The old man had mighty shoulders. In his hands he held a heavy gnarled club. And at his feet stood a tall, shaggy dog ​​and bared its teeth at Pashkin Sharik, his tail between his legs.

The old man raised his wide straw hat, bowed gravely first to Svetlana, then to all of us. Then he put the truncheon on the grass, took out a crooked pipe, filled it with tobacco and began to light it.

He lit a cigarette for a long time, then crushing the tobacco with his finger, then turning it with a nail, like a poker in a stove.

Finally he lit a cigarette, and then he puffed and smoked so hard that the Red Army soldier sitting on a tree sneezed and coughed.

Then the battery thundered again, and we saw that the empty and quiet field at once came to life, rustled and stirred. From behind the bushes, from behind the hillocks, from behind the ditches, from behind the bumps, Red Army men jumped out from everywhere with rifles at the ready.

They ran, jumped, fell, climbed again. They moved, closed, they became more and more; at last, with loud shouts from the whole bulk, they rushed with bayonets to the top of a gentle hill, where a cloud of dust and smoke was still smoking.

Then everything was quiet. From the summit, a barely noticeable and like a toy signalman waved flags to us. The military trumpet began to play sharply.

Breaking off branches with heavy boots, the Red Army observer got down from the tree. He quickly stroked Svetlana, thrust three shiny acorns into her hand, and hurriedly ran away, reeling a thin telephone wire onto a reel.

The military exercise is over.

Well, have you seen? - nudging Sanka with his elbow, Pashka said reproachfully. - This is not a siskin on the back of your head. Here the tops of your heads will quickly help you.

Strange I hear conversations, - moving forward, said the bearded old man. - Apparently, I have lived for sixty years, but have not made my mind. I don't understand anything. Here, under the mountain, is our collective farm "Dawn". All around these are our fields: oats, buckwheat, millet, wheat. This is our new mill on the river. And there, in the grove, is our big apiary. And over all this I am the main guardian. I saw swindlers, I also caught horse thieves, but so that at least one fascist appeared on my site - this had never happened before under Soviet rule. Come to me, Sanka is a formidable person. Let me at least look at you. Wait, wait, just pick up your drool and wipe your nose. I’m scared to look at you anyway.

All this unhurriedly said the mocking old man and looked with curiosity from under his shaggy eyebrows ... at the staring eyes of the amazed Sanka.

Not true! - sniffled, screamed offended Sanka. - I'm not a fascist, but all Soviet. And the girl Berta has not been angry for a long time and yesterday she bit off more than half of my apple. And this Pashka sets all the boys on me. He swears himself, but I have screwed up the spring. Since I am a fascist, it means that the spring is also fascist. And he made some kind of rocking chair out of it for his dog. I say to him: "Come on, Pashka, we will make up," and he says: "First, I will remove, and then we will make up."

We must put up without shit, - Svetlana said with conviction. - We must grapple with little fingers, spit on the ground and say: "Quarrels, quarrels never, but peace, peace forever." Well, grapple! And you, the chief watchman, shout at your terrible dog, and let it not frighten our little Sharik.

Back, Polkan! - shouted the watchman. - Lie on the ground and don't touch your own!

Oh, that's who it is! Here he is, the giant Polkan, shaggy and toothed.

Svetlana stood, twisted, came closer and shook her finger:

And I’m mine, but don’t touch yours!

Polkan looked: Svetlana's eyes were clear, her hands smelled of grass and flowers. He smiled and wagged his tail.

Then Sanka and Pashka became jealous, they moved over and also asked:

And we are ours, but don't touch ours!

Polkan poked his nose suspiciously: does not the cunning boys smell of carrots from the collective farm gardens? But then, as if on purpose, throwing up dust, a stray foal rushed along the path. Polkan sneezed without making it out. To touch - did not touch, but did not wag with his tail and did not allow to stroke.

It's time for us to go, ”I said to myself. - The sun is high, soon noon. Wow, how hot it is!

Goodbye! - Svetlana said goodbye to everyone. - We're going far away again.

Goodbye! - the already reconciled children answered unanimously. - Come to us again from afar.

Goodbye, - the watchman smiled with his eyes. - I do not know where you are going and what you are looking for, but just know: the worst thing for me is far away - this is to the left by the river, where our old rural cemetery stands. And the best part is far away - it is to the right, through the meadow, through the ravines where the stone is being dug. Then go by the copse, go around the swamp. There, over the lake, there is a huge pine forest. There are mushrooms, flowers, and raspberries in it. There is a house on the shore. My daughter Valentina and her son Fedor live in it. And if you get there, then bow to them from me.

Then the strange old man raised his hat, whistled to the dog, puffed on his pipe, leaving behind him a wide strip of thick smoke, and walked towards the yellow pea field.

Svetlana and I looked at each other - what a sad cemetery for us! We grabbed hands and turned to the right, in the best way.

We crossed the meadows and went down into the ravines.

We saw people dragging a stone, white as sugar, from deep black pits. And not just one lingering pebble. We have already piled up a whole mountain. And the wheels keep turning, the cars creak. And they are still driving. And they pile more.

It can be seen that a lot of all kinds of stones are hidden under the ground.

Svetlana also wanted to look underground. For a long time, lying on her stomach, she looked into the black hole. And when I pulled her by the legs, she told me that at first she saw only one darkness. And then I saw under the ground some kind of black sea, and someone there in the sea was making noise and tossing and turning. It must be a shark with two tails, one tail in the front and the other in the back. And she also fancied the Scarecrow at three hundred twenty-five feet. And with one golden eye. The Scarecrow sits and hums.

I looked slyly at Svetlana and asked if she had seen there at the same time a steamer with two pipes, a gray monkey on a tree and a polar bear on an ice floe.

Svetlana thought, she remembered. And it turns out that I also saw it.

I shook my finger at her: oh, isn't he lying? But she laughed in response and started running as fast as she could.

We walked for a long time, often stopped, rested and picked flowers. Then, when they got tired of lugging, they left the bouquets on the road.

I threw one bouquet to the old grandmother in the cart. The grandmother was frightened at first, not understanding what it was, and shook her fist at us. But then she saw, smiled and threw three large green cucumbers from the cart.

We picked up the cucumbers, wiped them off, put them in a bag and cheerfully went our own way.

On the way, we met a village where those who plow the land live, sow bread in the field, plant potatoes, cabbage, beets, or work in orchards and vegetable gardens.

Outside the village, we met low green graves, where those that had already weeded out and worked out were lying.

We came across a tree shattered by lightning.

We stumbled upon a herd of horses, each of which - even to Budyonny himself.

We also saw a priest in a long black robe. They looked after him and marveled that there were still some eccentric people left in the world.

Then we got worried when the sky darkened. Clouds came running from everywhere. They surrounded, caught and covered the sun. But it stubbornly burst out into one or the other hole. Finally it escaped and sparkled over the vast land even hotter and brighter.

Far behind was our gray house with a wooden roof.

And Maroussia must have returned a long time ago. Looked - no. I looked - I did not find it. Sits and waits, stupid!

Dad! - finally said the tired Svetlana. - Let's sit with you somewhere and have something to eat.

We began to search and found such a clearing that not everyone will come across in the world.

Lush branches of wild hazel were thrown open before us with a noise. A young silvery tree stood with its point towards the sky. And in thousands, brighter than the flags on May Day - blue, red, blue, lilac - fragrant flowers surrounded the tree and stood motionless.

Even the birds did not sing over that clearing - it was so quiet.

Only the gray fool-crow thumped from the fly onto a branch, looked around that she had got to the wrong place, croaked in surprise: "Carr ... carr ..." - and immediately flew away to her filthy garbage pits.

Sit down, Svetlana, guard your bag, and I'll go and fill a flask of water. Do not be afraid: there is only one animal living here - the long-eared hare.

I’m not even afraid of a thousand birds with one stone, ”Svetlana replied boldly,“ but you should come as soon as possible.

The water was not close, and, returning, I was already worried about Svetlana.

But she was not frightened and did not cry, but sang.

I hid behind a bush and saw that the red-haired fat Svetlana stood in front of the flowers that rose to her shoulders, and sang with enthusiasm the following song just composed:

Gay! .. Gay! ..

We didn't break the blue cups.

No no!..

The field watchman walks in the field.

But we did not go into the garden for carrots.

And I didn’t climb, and he didn’t climb.

And Sanka once climbed into the garden.

Gay! .. Gay! ..

The Red Army is walking in the field.

(She came from the city.)

The Red Army is the reddest

And the white army is the whitest.

Tru-ru-ru! Tra-ta-ta!

These are the drummers

These are the pilots

These are the drummers who fly on airplanes.

And I, the drummer ... stand here.

Silently and solemnly, the tall flowers listened to this song and quietly nodded to Svetlana with their magnificent heads.

Come to me, drummer! - I shouted, pushing the bushes. - There are cold water, red apples, white bread and yellow gingerbread. I don't mind anything for a good song.

Svetlana was a little embarrassed. She shook her head reproachfully and, just like Marusya, screwing up her eyes, said:

He hid and eavesdrops. It's a shame, dear comrade!

Suddenly Svetlana became quiet and thoughtful.

And then, while we were eating, a gray siskin suddenly descended onto a branch and chirped something like that.

It was a brave siskin. He sat right in front of us, bouncing, chirping and not flying away.

This is a familiar siskin, - Svetlana firmly decided. - I saw him when my mother and I were swinging in the garden on a swing. She rocked me high. Fyut! .. Fyut! .. And why did he come to us so far?

No! No! I replied resolutely. - This is a completely different siskin. You are wrong, Svetlana. That siskin on its tail lacks the feathers that the owner's one-eyed cat ripped out for him. That siskin is fatter, and he chirps in a very different voice.

No, that one! - Svetlana repeated stubbornly. - I know. It was he who flew so far behind us.

Gay, gay! - I sang in a sad bass. “But we didn't break the blue cups. And we decided to go for good.

The gray siskin chirped angrily. Not a single flower out of a million swayed or nodded. And the frowning Svetlana sternly said:

We gathered in silence. We left the grove. And here, luckily for me, a cool blue river sparkled under the mountain.

And then I raised Svetlana. And when she saw the sandy coast, the green islands, she forgot everything in the world and, happily clapping her hands, shouted:

Bathe! Bathe! Bathe!

To shorten the path, we went straight to the river through damp meadows.

Soon we found ourselves in front of dense thickets of marsh bush. We did not want to return, and we decided to somehow make our way. But the further we went, the tighter the swamp tightened around us.

We circled through the swamp, turned right and left, climbed over flimsy perches, jumped from bump to bump. They got wet, smeared, but could not get out in any way.

And somewhere quite nearby, behind the bushes, a herd tossed and mooed, a shepherd snapped with a whip and a little dog barked angrily when it sensed us. But we saw nothing but rusty swamp water, rotten bushes and sedges.

Already anxiety appeared on the freckled face of the hushed Svetlanka. More and more often she turned around, looking into my face with a silent reproach: “What is this, folder? You are big, strong, but we are really bad! "

Stay here and don't move! - I ordered, putting Svetlana on a piece of dry land.

I wrapped myself in a thicket, but even in that direction there was only green goo intertwined with fat bog flowers.

I returned and saw that Svetlana was not standing at all, but carefully, holding onto the bushes, was making her way towards me.

Stay where you put it! I said sharply.

Svetlana stopped. Her eyes blinked and her lips twitched.

And I felt very sorry for Svetlanka, who got into trouble because of me.

Here, take a stick, - I shouted, - and beat them, worthless frogs, anywhere! Just stand still! Let's get over now.

I turned again into a thicket and got angry. What is it? Is it possible to compare this filthy swamp with the endless reeds of the wide Dnieper region or with the gloomy floodplains of the Akhtyrka, where we once smashed and strangled the white Wrangel landing party!

From bump to bump, from bush to bush. Once - and waist-deep in water. Two - and dry aspen crunched. Following the aspen, a rotten log flew into the mud. A rotten stump plopped down hard. Here is the support. Here's another puddle. And here it is, a dry shore.

And, pushing the reed apart, I found myself next to a frightened goat that jumped up.

Hey gay! Svetlana! I shouted. - You stand?

Hey gay! - A plaintive thin voice came quietly from the thicket. - I'm a hundred-oh!

We made our way to the river. We cleaned off all the dirt and slime that covered us from all sides. We rinsed our clothes, and while they dried on the hot sand, we swam.

And all the fish rushed away in horror into their deep depths, when we whipped up the sparkling foamy waterfalls with laughter.

And the black mustachioed crayfish, which I pulled out of its underwater country, turning with my round eyes, scrambled and jumped in fear: it must have been the first time I saw such an unbearably bright sun and such an unbearably red-haired girl.

And then, having contrived, he angrily grabbed Svetlana's finger. With a cry, Svetlana threw him into the very middle of the goose herd. The stupid fat goslings scampered to the sides.

But an old gray goose came up from the side. He had seen many and more terrible in the world. He squinted his head, looked with one eye, pecked - then he, cancer, and death came.

But here we bathed, dried up, dressed and moved on.

And again, we came across a lot of everyone along the way: people, horses, carts, cars, and even a gray beast - a hedgehog, which we took with us. Yes, only he soon pricked our hands, and we pushed him into the icy stream.

The hedgehog snorted and swam to the other side. “Here,” he thinks, “disgraceful! Now look for your hole from here. "

And we finally went out to the lake.

It was here that the farthest field of the "Rassvet" collective farm ended, and on the other side the lands of "Krasnaya Zarya" were already spread out.

Then we saw a log house at the edge of the forest and immediately guessed that the watchman's daughter Valentina and her son Fyodor lived here.

We approached the fence from the side from which the estate was guarded by tall, like soldiers, flowers - sunflowers.

Valentina herself stood on the porch in the garden. She was tall and broad-shouldered, like her father, a watchman. The collar of the blue sweater was thrown open. She held a floor brush in one hand and a wet rag in the other.

Fedor! she shouted sternly. - Where are you, you scoundrel, touched the gray pan?

Won! - an important voice sounded from under the raspberries, and the fair-haired Fedor pointed to the puddle, where a saucepan, laden with wood chips and grass, was floating.

And where, shameless, hid the sieve?

Won! - Fyodor answered in the same important way and pointed to a sieve pressed down by a stone, under which something was tossing and turning.

Wait a minute, chieftain! .. When you come home, I’ll smooth you with a wet rag, ”Valentina threatened and, seeing us, pulled up her tucked up skirt.

Hello! - I said. - Father sends you a bow.

Thanks! - Valentina responded. - Go to the garden, relax.

We went through the gate and lay down under a ripe apple tree.

Fat son Fyodor wore only one shirt, and his wet trousers soiled with clay lay in the grass.

I eat raspberries, - Fyodor told us seriously. - I ate two bushes. And I will still.

Eat to your health, - I wished. - Just look, friend, do not burst.

Fyodor stopped, poked himself in the stomach with his fist, looked angrily at me and, grabbing his pants, waddled towards the house.

For a long time we lay in silence. It seemed to me that Svetlana fell asleep. I turned to her and saw that she was not sleeping at all, but, holding her breath, was looking at the silvery butterfly, which was quietly crawling along the sleeve of her pink dress.

And suddenly there was a powerful rumbling rumble, the air trembled, and the shiny plane, like a storm, rushed over the tops of the quiet apple trees.

Svetlana shuddered, a butterfly fluttered, a yellow rooster flew off the fence, a frightened jackdaw flashed across the sky with a cry - and everything was quiet.

This is the same pilot who flew by, - Svetlana said with annoyance, - this is the one who came to us yesterday.

Why is that one? I asked, raising my head. - Maybe it's completely different.

No, that one. I myself heard yesterday how he told my mother that he was leaving tomorrow far and for good. I ate a red tomato, and my mother answered him: “Well, goodbye. Happy journey "...

Folder, - sitting on my stomach, asked Svetlana, - tell me something about mom. Well, for example, how it was when I was not there yet.

As it was? Yes, everything was the same. First day, then night, then day again, and another night ...

And a thousand more days! - Svetlana interrupted impatiently. - Well, here you are and tell me what happened these days. You know yourself, but you pretend ...

Okay, I'll tell you, just get off me onto the grass, otherwise it will be hard for me to tell. Well, listen! ..

Then our Marusa was seventeen years old. White attacked their town, they seized Marusya's father and put him in prison. And her mother had been gone for a long time, and our Marusya was left all alone ...

Something feels sorry for her, - moving closer, put in Svetlana. - Well, tell me further.

She threw a handkerchief to Marusya and ran out into the street. And on the street, white soldiers lead both workers and women workers to the prison. And the bourgeois, of course, are happy with the white people, and everywhere in their houses lights are burning, music is playing. And our Marusa has nowhere to go, and there is no one to tell her about her grief ...

Something is already quite a pity, - Svetlana interrupted impatiently. - You, folder, tell the red ones soon.

Then Marusya went out of town. The moon was shining. The wind rustled. And a wide steppe stretched out in front of Marusya ...

With wolves?

No, no wolves. The wolves then hid from the shooting in the woods. And Marusya thought: “I'll run away across the steppe to the city of Belgorod. There is the Red Army of Comrade Voroshilov. He is said to be very brave. And if you ask, then maybe it will help. "

And that stupid Marusya did not know that the Red Army never expects to be asked for. And she herself rushes to help where the whites attacked. And already close to Marusya our Red Army detachments are advancing across the steppe. And each rifle is loaded with five rounds, and each machine gun is loaded with two hundred and fifty rounds.

Then I rode across the steppe with a military patrol. Suddenly, a shadow flashed across the hill. “Aha! - think. - Stop: white scout. You won't go anywhere further. "

I hit the horse with my spurs. I jumped over the hillock. I looked - what a miracle: there is no white scout, but some girl is standing under the moonlight. The face is not visible, and only the hair flutters in the wind.

I jumped off the horse, and hold the revolver in my hand just in case. I came up and asked: "Who are you and why are you running around the steppe at midnight?"

And the moon came out big, tremendous! The girl on my hat saw a Red Army star, hugged me and began to cry.

It was then that we met with her, with Marusya.

And in the morning we knocked the whites out of the city. The prisons were opened and the workers were released.

Here I am in the afternoon in the infirmary. My chest is a little shot. And my shoulder hurts: when I fell from a horse, I hit a stone.

My squadron commander comes to me and says:

So the day has passed. Hello evening! And my chest hurts, and my shoulder hurts. And the heart is bored. It's boring, friend Svetlana, to be alone without comrades!

Suddenly the door opened, and quickly, noiselessly Marusya entered on her toes! And then I was so happy that I even screamed.

And Marusya came up, sat down next to me and put her hand on my very hot head and said:

“I was looking for you all day after the battle. Does it hurt you, dear? "

And I say:

“I don't give a damn that it hurts, Marusya. Why are you so pale? "

“You sleep,” answered Marusya. - Sleep tight. I will be near you all the days. "

It was then that Marusya and I met for the second time and since then we have always lived together.

Folder, - Svetlana asked excitedly then. “We didn't really leave home, did we?” She loves us. We just walk around, walk around and come again.

How do you know what you love? Maybe he still loves you, but I'm no longer there.

Oh, you're lying! - Svetlana shook her head. - I woke up last night, I look, my mother put down the book, turned to you and looks at you for a long time.

Eco thing that looks! She even looks out the window, looks at all people! There are eyes, so he looks.

Oh, No! - Svetlana objected with conviction. - When in the window, it looks completely different, but here's how ...

Then Svetlana raised her thin eyebrows, tilted her head to one side, pursed her lips and looked indifferently at the rooster passing by.

And when they love, they don't look like that.

As if a radiance lit up Svetlanka's blue eyes, drooping eyelashes flinched, and a sweet, pensive Marusin's gaze fell on my face.

Rogue! - picking up Svetlana, I shouted. “How did you look at me yesterday when you spilled the ink?”

Well, then you kicked me out the door, and those who are out of the house are always looking angrily.

We didn't break the blue cups. Perhaps Marusya herself somehow broke it. But we forgave her. You never know who will think bad things in vain? Once Svetlana also thought of me. Yes, I myself thought badly about Marusya too. And I went to the hostess Valentina to ask if there was a way closer to our house.

Now my husband will go to the station, - said Valentina. - He will take you to the mill itself, and there it is already not far.

Returning to the garden, I met an embarrassed Svetlana at the porch.

Dad, - she said in a mysterious whisper, - this son Fyodor crawled out of raspberries and pulls gingerbread from your bag.

We went to the apple tree, but the cunning son Fyodor, seeing us, hastily hid in the midst of the burdocks under the fence.

Fedor! I called. - Come here, don't be afraid.

The tops of the burdocks swayed, and it was clear that Fyodor was resolutely moving away.

Fedor! I repeated. - Go here. I'll give you all the gingerbread.

The burdocks stopped swaying, and soon a heavy puffing came from the thicket.

Then, like a giant over the forest, I strode over the burdocks, took out the stern Fyodor and poured all the remains from the sack in front of him.

He unhurriedly tucked everything into the hem of his shirt and, without even saying "thank you," went to the other end of the garden.

Look how important, - Svetlana remarked disapprovingly, - he took off his pants and walks like a master!

A cart pulled by a couple drove up to the house. Valentina came out onto the porch:

Get ready, the horses are good - they will drive quickly.

Fyodor appeared again. He was now in trousers and, walking quickly, was dragging a pretty smoky kitten by the collar. The kitten must have got used to such grips, because he did not struggle, did not meow, but only impatiently twisted his fluffy tail.

On! - said Fedor and thrust the kitten into Svetlana.

For good? - Svetlana was delighted and looked at me hesitantly.

Take it, take it if you need it, - suggested Valentina. - We have a lot of this stuff. Fedor! Why did you hide the gingerbread in cabbage beds? I saw everything through the window.

All in a grandfather, - Valentina smiled. - A sort of healthy. And only four years.

We drove along a wide, flat road. Evening was falling. Tired but cheerful people came to meet us from work.

A collective farm truck rumbled into the garage.

A war trumpet sang in the field.

A signal bell rang in the village.

A heavy-heavy steam locomotive began to hum behind the forest. Tuu! .. Tu! .. Spin, wheels, hurry up, wagons, railway, long, distant!

And, tightly clutching the fluffy kitten, happy Svetlana sang the following song to the sound of the cart:

Chiki-chiki!

Mice are walking.

They walk with their tails

Very angry.

They climb everywhere.

They climb onto the shelf.

Fuck-bangers!

And the cup flies.

Who's to blame?

Well, no one is to blame.

Only mice

From black holes.

Hello mice!

We returned.

And what is it

Do we carry with us? ..

It meows

It jumps

And drinks milk from a saucer.

Now get out

Into black holes

Or will it tear you apart

In pieces,

Ten pieces

Twenty pieces

One hundred million

Shaggy pieces.

Near the mill we jumped off the cart.

You could hear Pashka Bukamashkin, Sanka, Berta and someone else playing siskin outside the fence.

Don't cheat! - the indignant Sanka shouted to Berta. - They spoke at me, and then they themselves stride.

Someone is walking there again, - explained Svetlana, - they must now quarrel again. - And, sighing, she added: - Such a game!

With excitement we approached the house. It only remained to turn the corner and go upstairs.

Suddenly we looked at each other in confusion and stopped.

Neither the leaky fence nor the high porch could yet be seen, but the wooden roof of our gray house had already appeared, and our luxurious sparkling turntable was whirring above it with a merry buzz.

It was the mother herself who climbed onto the roof! - Svetlana screamed and pulled me forward.

We went up the hill.

The orange rays of the evening sun lit up the porch. And on him, in a red dress, without a scarf and in sandals on bare feet, our Marusya stood and smiled.

Laugh, laugh! - Svetlana, who ran up to her, allowed her. - We have forgiven you anyway.

I came up and looked Marusa in the face.

Marusya's eyes were brown, and they looked kindly. It was evident that she had been waiting for us for a long time, at last she had waited and now she was very happy.

“No,” I decided firmly, tossing away the scattered shards of a blue cup with the toe of my boot. - It's all just gray angry mice. And we didn't break. And Maroussia didn't break anything either. "

And then there was evening. And the moon and the stars.

For a long time the three of us sat in the garden, under a ripe cherry, and Marusya told us where she was, what she did and what she saw.

And Svetlankin's story would have dragged on, probably until midnight, if Marusya had not caught herself and drove her to sleep.

Well?! - taking the sleepy kitten with her, the sly Svetlanka asked me. - Is it really bad life now?

We also got up.

A golden moon shone over our garden.

A distant train roared to the north.

The midnight pilot hummed and disappeared into the clouds.

And life, comrades ... was absolutely good!

NOTES

To a certain extent, the story can be considered autobiographical. "I was then thirty-two years old ..." - this is how the "Blue Cup" begins. In the summer of 1935, when in a village near Arzamas, Arkady Gaidar wrote these words, and in the fall in Maleevka, near Moscow, when the writer was finishing his story, he was really in his thirty-second year. On the front roads of the Civil War, he met Marusya - Maria Plaksina. In the first version of the "Blue Cup" there was not a daughter, Svetlana, but a son - Dimka ...

But, of course, this is not the point. The story "Blue Cup" is autobiographical in a different, higher sense of the word. In this story, Arkady Gaidar widens his inner world before the reader. Here, more clearly than in other works of the writer, we see Arkady Gaidar himself, as he was in his thirty-two years. His voice sounds free, uninhibited, he is full of human warmth and kindness, soft humor allows you to convincingly and unobtrusively express important thoughts.

The writer walks with Svetlana through this Gaidar world - the world of kind, courageous, honest people, adults and children, who live in a beautiful country, are close friends and build a new life together. At first, the writer was going to call the story so - "The Good Life".

However, for Arkady Gaidar, a good life does not at all mean a thoughtless or serene life. The story, full of warmth, the sun, filled with the smells of a summer field, bursts into echoes of great, formidable events. This happens when, on a clear day, a thunderstorm grumbles somewhere far beyond the horizon. The Nazis seized power in Germany. From there, the girl Berta came to the Soviet Union with her anti-fascist father. Part of the Red Army went out into the field for military exercises. Perhaps they will soon have to repel the attack of the enemy ...

There is another very important layer in the depth of the story. A cloud suddenly hung over the friendly family, threatening to destroy this family. Was it really overhanging, or was it just it seemed, it seemed?

The writer introduces this topic very subtly, with great tact. It is only outlined, indicated by a few strokes, but anxiety settles in the heart of the reader. And that is why again, at once, the world brightens so much when little Svetlana, sensitively understanding the unspoken doubts of her father, helps to drive away the cloud, helps to understand that "And Marusya did not break anything either."

The appearance of the Blue Cup sparked a debate. “Some consider this book to be a gratifying phenomenon in children's literature. Others find it “unsuitable” for children, “unacceptable” and even “outrageous,” noted A. Zhavoronkova (magazine “Children's Literature” No. 5, 1937).

The critic A. Derman, summing up the discussion on the "Blue Cup", wrote: "... The fact that the guys eagerly listen to and read Gaidar's book is still decisive. It seems to me that it is from facts of this kind that one should deduce theories about the suitability of this or that plot, this or that composition for the child's reader. Good fiction books are not created according to good theories, but on the contrary, good theories are built on a careful analysis of the latter "(Children's Literature, No. 19-20, 1937)

Father was late, and three sat down at the table for supper: the barefoot guy Efimka, his little sister Valka and his seven-year-old brother nicknamed Nikolashka the balovashka.

M the scarlet lyrical story of the famous Soviet children's writer A. Gaidar is dedicated to one day in the life of the heroine, the girl Svetlana, which she will remember for the rest of her life.

****

M was not then thirty-two. Marusa is twenty-nine, and our daughter Svetlana is six and a half. Only at the end of the summer I got a vacation, and for the last warm month we rented a dacha near Moscow.

Svetlana and I thought about fishing, swimming, picking mushrooms and nuts in the forest. And I had to immediately sweep the yard, fix dilapidated fences, stretch ropes, hammer in crutches and nails.

We got tired of all this very soon, and Marusya, one after another, new and new things for herself and for us, comes up with.

Only on the third day in the evening everything was finally done. And just when the three of us were about to go for a walk, her friend, a polar pilot, came to Marusa.

They sat for a long time in the garden, under the cherries. And Svetlana and I went into the yard to the barn and out of frustration set about making a wooden turntable.

When it got dark, Marusya shouted for Svetlana to drink milk and go to bed, and she herself went to see the pilot to the station.

But I got bored without Marusya, and Svetlana did not want to sleep alone in an empty house.

We got flour from the closet. We brewed it with boiling water - it turned out to be a paste.

We pasted over the smooth turntable with colored paper, smoothed it thoroughly and climbed through the dusty attic onto the roof.

Here we are sitting astride the roof. And we can see from above, as in the neighboring garden, by the porch, a samovar is smoking a pipe. And on the porch sits a lame old man with a balalaika, and children crowd around him.

Then a barefooted, hunched old woman jumped out of the black hallway. She turned the children around, scolded the old man and, grabbing a rag, began to slap on the burner of the samovar to make it boil faster.

We laughed and think: if the wind blows, our fast turntable will whirl, whirr. Children from all the yards will run to our house. Then we will have our own company.

And tomorrow we'll think of something else.

Maybe we'll dig a deep cave for that frog that lives in our garden, near the damp cellar.

Maybe we will ask Marusya for some harsh threads and launch a kite - higher than the silo, higher than the yellow pines and even higher than the kite that has been guarding the master's chickens and rabbits from the sky all day today.

Or maybe tomorrow, early in the morning, we'll get into the boat - I'm on the oars, Marusya is behind the wheel, Svetlana is a passenger - and we will sail along the river to where, they say, a large forest stands, where two hollow birches grow on the bank, under which a neighbor girl three good porcini mushrooms. The only pity is that they were all wormy.

Suddenly Svetlana pulled my sleeve and said:

- Look, dad, but it seems that our mom is coming, and no matter how it gets to you and me.

Indeed, our Marusya is walking along the path along the fence, but we thought that she would not return soon.

“Bend over,” I said to Svetlana. “Maybe she won't notice.

But Marusya immediately noticed us, raised her head and shouted:

- Why are you, worthless people, climbed onto the roof? It's already damp in the yard. It is high time for Svetlana to sleep. And you were glad that I was not at home, and are ready to pamper me even until midnight.

- Marusya, - I replied, - we do not spoil, we nail the turntable. Wait a little, we only have three nails left to finish.

- Finish it tomorrow! - ordered Marusya. - Now get off, or I'll be completely angry.

Svetlana and I looked at each other. We see our business is bad. They took it and got off. But they took offense at Marusya.

And although Marusya brought a big apple from the station to Svetlana and a pack of tobacco for me, they were still offended.

So with resentment and fell asleep.

And in the morning - another new thing! We just woke up, Marusya comes up and asks:

“You better confess, you mischievous people, that they broke my blue cup in the closet!

And I didn't break the cups. And Svetlana says that she did not break it either. We looked at each other with her and both thought that Marusya was talking about us in vain.

But Marusya didn't believe us.

“The cups,” she says, “are not alive: they have no legs. They do not know how to jump to the floor. And besides you two, nobody climbed into the closet yesterday. Smashed and do not confess. It's a shame, comrades!

After breakfast, Marusya suddenly got ready and went to the city, and we sat down and thought.

Here we go on the boat!

And the sun looks into our windows. And the sparrows gallop along the sandy paths. And the chickens dash through the wooden fence from yard to street and from street to yard.

And we're not having fun at all.

- Well! - I say to Svetlana. “You and I were driven off the roof yesterday. A can of kerosene was recently taken away from us. They scolded in vain for some blue cup. Is this a good life?

- Of course, - says Svetlana, - life is absolutely bad.

- Come on, Svetlana, put on your pink dress. We will take my camping bag from behind the stove, put your apple, my tobacco, matches, knife, bun, and leave this house wherever we can.

Svetlana thought and asks:

- Where are your eyes looking?

- And they are looking, Svetlana, through the window, here at that yellow meadow where the mistress's cow grazes. And beyond the clearing, I know, there is a goose pond, and beyond the pond there is a water mill, and behind the mill on the mountain there is a birch grove. And what is behind the mountain - I myself do not know.

“Okay,” Svetlana agreed, “let's take bread, an apple, and tobacco, but just take another thick stick with you, because somewhere in that direction there is a terrible dog Polkan. And the boys told me about her that she just barely ate one to death.

And so we did. They put what they needed in the bag, closed all five windows, locked both doors, and slipped the key under the porch.

Goodbye, Marusya! And we still didn’t break your cups.

We went out the gate, and a milkmaid met us.

- Do you need milk?

- No, grandma! We don't need anything else.

- I have fresh milk, good, from my cow, - the milkmaid was offended. - Come back, so sorry.

She thundered with her cold cans and walked on. And where can she guess that we are going far and maybe we won't come back?

And no one knew about it. A tanned boy rode a bike. Probably walking into the forest for mushrooms, a fat guy in shorts and with a pipe. A blond girl with her hair wet after bathing passed by. And we did not meet any acquaintances.

We got out through the vegetable gardens to a clearing, yellow from night blindness, took off our sandals and walked along the warm path barefoot across the meadow straight to the mill.

We walk, we walk, and now we see that a man is rushing from the mill in full spirit to meet us. He bent down, and from behind the bush bushes clods of earth are flying at his back. It seemed strange to us. What? Svetlana's eyes are sharp-sighted, she stopped and said:

- And I know who is running. This is a boy, Sanka Karjakin, who lives near the house where some pigs climbed into the tomato beds in the garden. Yesterday he rode on horseback against our dacha on someone else's goat. Do you remember?

Sanka ran up to us, stopped and wipes his tears with a cotton bag. And we ask him:

- Why is it, Sanka, you rushed with all your might and why did clods fly after you from behind the bushes?

Sanka turned away and said:

- My grandmother sent me to the collective farm shop for salt. And the pioneer Pashka Bukamashkin is sitting at the mill, and he wants to tear me up.

Svetlana looked at him. That's the way it is!

Isn't there such a law in the Soviet country that a person would run to a collective farm shop for salt, not touch anyone, bully and suddenly they would start to tear him up for no reason at all?

- Come with us, Sanka, - says Svetlana. - Do not be afraid. We are on our way, and we will intercede for you.

The three of us went through the dense broom.

- Here he is, Pashka Bukamashkin, - said Sanka and backed away.

We see - there is a mill. There is a cart near the mill. Under the cart lies a curly little dog, all covered in burdocks, and, opening one eye, looks as the nimble sparrows peck at the grains scattered on the sand. And on a pile of sand, Pashka Bukamashkin sits without a shirt and gnaws at a fresh cucumber.

Pashka saw us, but was not scared, and threw the stub at the little dog and said, without looking at anyone:

- Huh! .. Sharik ... Huh! .. There is a well-known fascist, White Guard Sanka coming here. Wait, unfortunate fascist! We will deal with you yet.

Then Pashka spat far into the sand. The curly little dog growled. The frightened sparrows roared up the tree. And Svetlana and I, having heard such words, came closer to Pashka.

- Wait, Pashka, - I said. - Maybe you were wrong? What kind of a fascist is this, a White Guard? After all, this is simply Sanka Karjakin, who lives near the house where someone's pigs climbed into tomato beds in someone else's garden.

- All the same, a White Guard, - Pashka stubbornly repeated. “And if you don’t believe it, do you want me to tell you his whole story?”

Here Svetlana and I really wanted to know Sankin's entire story. We sat on the logs, Pashka opposite. A curly little dog at our feet, on the grass. Only Sanka did not sit down, but, leaving behind the cart, shouted angrily from there:

- Then tell me everything! And how it hit me on the back of the head, tell me too. You think the back of your head doesn't hurt? Take yourself and knock.

“There is a city of Dresden in Germany,” Pashka said calmly, “and from this city one worker, a Jew, ran away from the Nazis. He ran away and came to us. And the girl came with him, Bertha. He himself now works at this mill, and Berta plays with us. Only now she ran to the village for milk. So, the day before yesterday we were playing siskin: me, Berta, this man, Sanka, and another one from the village. Berta hits the siskin with a stick and accidentally hits this Sanka on the back of the head, or something ...

“I hit it right on the top of my head,” Sanka said from behind the cart. - My head began to buzz, and she still laughs.

- Well, - Pashka continued, - she hit this Sanka on the top of the head with a siskin. He first at her with fists, and then nothing. He put a burdock to his head - and again he plays with us. Only after that he became impossible to cheat. He will take an extra step and aim with a siskin right at the stake.

- You're lying, you're lying! - Sanka jumped out from behind the cart. - It was your dog who poked his face, here he is, a siskin, and rolled up.

- And you are not playing with the dog, but with us. I would take it and put the siskin in its place. Well. He threw the siskin, and Berta, as soon as he had enough with a stick, so this siskin flew right to the other end of the field, into the nettles. We find it funny, but Sanka is angry. It is clear that he is reluctant to run after the siskin into the nettles ... He climbed over the fence and yells from there: “You fool, Jewess! So that you fail back to your Germany! " But Bertha already understands a fool in Russian well, but still does not understand the Jewess in any way. She comes up to me and asks: "What is this Jewess?" And I am ashamed to say. I shout: "Shut up, Sanka!" And he deliberately screams louder and louder. I follow him over the fence. He is in the bushes. So he disappeared. When I returned, I looked: the stick was lying on the grass, and Berta was sitting in the corner on the logs. I call: "Bertha!" She is not responding. I came up - I see: there are tears in her eyes. So she guessed it herself. Then I picked up a stone from the ground, put it in my pocket and thought: “Well, wait, damn Sanka! This is not Germany. We can handle your fascism ourselves! "

We looked at Sanka and thought: “Well, brother, you have a bad story. Even listening is disgusting. And we were still going to intercede for you. "

And I was just about to say this, when suddenly the mill trembled and began to rustle, a rested wheel spun on the water. A cat sprinkled with flour, dazed with fright, jumped out of the mill window. Sleepily missed and fell right on the back of the dozing Sharik. The ball screeched and jumped. The cat darted to the tree, the sparrows from the tree to the roof. The horse lifted its muzzle and jerked the cart. And from the shed some shaggy uncle, gray with flour, looked out and, without understanding, threatened Sanka with a long whip, who had jumped off the cart:

- But, but ... look, do not spoil, otherwise I will vigorously pull out!

Svetlana laughed, and she felt sorry for this unfortunate Sanka, whom everyone wants to rip out.

“Dad,” she told me. - Maybe he is not such a fascist at all? Maybe he's just a fool? Is it true, Sanka, that you are just a fool? - asked Svetlana and looked tenderly into his face.

In response, Sanka just snorted angrily, shook his head, sniffed and wanted to say something. And what can you say when you are all around yourself to blame and, in truth, there is nothing to say.

But then Pashka's little dog suddenly stopped yelling at the cat and, turning to the field, raised its ears.

Somewhere beyond the grove, a shot slammed. Another. Both off and on! ..

- Fight nearby! - Pashka cried out.

“The fight is nearby,” I said. - It's firing from rifles. But do you hear? The machine gun shot it.

Pashka was the first to jump up. The dog ran after him. I picked up Svetlana in my arms and also ran to the grove.

We did not have time to run half the road when we heard a cry behind us. We turned around and saw Sanka.

Raising his arms high so that we would notice him sooner, he rushed towards us straight through the ditches and hummocks.

- Look how a goat gallops! - muttered Pashka. - And what is this fool swinging over his head?

- This is not a fool. He's dragging my sandals! - Svetlana shouted joyfully. - I forgot them on the logs, but he found them and brings them to me. You would make peace with him, Pashka!

Pashka frowned and said nothing. We waited for Sanka, took Svetlana's yellow sandals from him. And now the four of us, with the dog, went through the grove to the edge.

In front of us was a hilly field overgrown with bushes. By the stream, a goat tied to a peg was nibbling at the grass, jingling with a tin bell. A lonely kite was flying smoothly in the sky. That's all. And there was no one and nothing else in this field.

- So where is the war here? - Svetlana asked impatiently.

- And now I'll take a look, - said Pashka and climbed onto the stump.

For a long time he stood, squinting from the sun and covering his eyes with his palm. And who knows what he saw there, but only Svetlana got tired of waiting, and she, tangled in the grass, went herself to look for a war.

“The grass is high for me, and I’m low,” Svetlana complained, standing up on tiptoe. “And I don’t see at all.

“Look under your feet, don't touch the wire,” a loud voice said from above.

In an instant, Pashka flew off the hemp. Awkwardly, he bounced towards Sanka. And Svetlana rushed to me and grabbed my hand tightly.

We backed away and then saw that right above us, in the dense branches of a lonely tree, a Red Army soldier was hiding.

The rifle hung on a branch next to him. In one hand he held a telephone receiver and, without moving, looked through shiny black binoculars somewhere at the edge of a deserted field.

Before we had time to utter the words, from afar, like thunder with ripples and crossings, a terrible cannon salvo struck. The ground shook underfoot. A cloud of black dust and smoke rose above the field far from us. Like a madman, the goat jumped up and fell off the sponge rope. And the kite swerved in the sky and, quickly flapping its wings, sped away.

- It’s bad for the fascists! - Pashka said loudly and looked at Sanka. - This is how our batteries beat.

“It’s bad for the Nazis,” the hoarse voice echoed.

And then we saw that a gray-haired, bearded old man was standing under the bushes.

The old man had mighty shoulders. In his hands he held a heavy, gnarled club. And at his feet stood a tall, shaggy dog ​​and bared its teeth at Pashkin Sharik, his tail between his legs.

The old man raised his wide straw hat, bowed gravely first to Svetlana, then to all of us. Then he put the truncheon on the grass, took out a crooked pipe, filled it with tobacco and began to light it.

He lit a cigarette for a long time, then crushing the tobacco with his finger, then rolling it with a nail, like a poker in a stove.

Finally he lit a cigarette, and then he puffed and smoked so hard that the Red Army soldier sitting on a tree sneezed and coughed.

Then the battery thundered again, and we saw that the empty and quiet field at once came to life, rustled and stirred. From behind the bushes, from behind the hillocks, from behind the ditches, from behind the bumps, Red Army men jumped out from everywhere with rifles at the ready.

They ran, jumped, fell, climbed again. They moved, closed, they became more and more; finally, with loud shouts from the whole bulk, they rushed with bayonets to the top of a gentle hill, where a cloud of dust and smoke was still smoking.

Then everything was quiet. From the summit, a barely noticeable and like a toy signalman waved flags to us. The military trumpet began to play sharply.

Breaking off branches with heavy boots, the Red Army observer got down from the tree. He quickly stroked Svetlana, thrust three shiny acorns into her hand and hurriedly ran away, reeling a thin telephone wire onto a reel.

The military exercise is over.

- Well, have you? - nudging Sanka with his elbow, Pashka said reproachfully. - This is not a siskin on the back of your head. Here the tops of your heads will quickly help you.

- Strange I hear conversations, - moving forward, said the bearded old man. - Apparently, I have lived for sixty years, but have not made my mind. I don't understand anything. Here, under the mountain, is our collective farm "Dawn". All around these are our fields: oats, buckwheat, millet, wheat. This is our new mill on the river. And there, in the grove, is our big apiary. And over all this I am the main guardian. I have seen swindlers, I have also caught horse thieves, but so that at least one fascist appears on my site - this has never happened before under Soviet rule. Come to me, Sanka is a formidable person. Let me at least look at you. Wait, wait, just pick up your drool and wipe your nose. I’m scared to look at you anyway.

All this unhurriedly said the mocking old man and looked with curiosity from under the shaggy eyebrows ... at the staring eyes of the amazed Sanka.

- Not true! - sniffled, insulted Sanka yelled. - I'm not a fascist, but all Soviet. And the girl Berta has not been angry for a long time and yesterday she bit off more than half of my apple. And this Pashka sets all the boys on me. He swears himself, but I have screwed up the spring. Since I am a fascist, it means that the spring is also fascist. And he made some kind of rocking chair out of it for his dog. I say to him: "Come on, Pashka, we will make up," and he says: "First, I will remove, and then we will make up."

- We must put up without shit, - Svetlana said with conviction. - We must grapple with little fingers, spit on the ground and say: "Quarrels, quarrels never, but peace, peace forever." Well, grapple! And you, the chief watchman, shout at your terrible dog, and let it not frighten our little Sharik.

- Back, Polkan! - shouted the watchman. - Lie on the ground and don't touch your own!

- Oh, that's who it is! Here he is, the giant Polkan, shaggy and toothed.

Svetlana stood, twisted, came closer and shook her finger:

- And I'm mine, but don't touch your own!

Polkan looked: Svetlana's eyes were clear, her hands smelled of grass and flowers. He smiled and wagged his tail.

Then Sanka and Pashka became jealous, they moved over and also asked:

- And we are ours, but don't touch ours!

Polkan poked his nose suspiciously: does not the cunning boys smell of carrots from the collective farm gardens? But then, as if on purpose, throwing up dust, a stray foal rushed along the path. Polkan sneezed without making it out. To touch - did not touch, but did not wag with his tail and did not allow to stroke.

- We have to go, - I realized. - The sun is high, soon noon. Wow, how hot it is!

- Bye! - Svetlana said goodbye to everyone. - We are going far away again.

- Bye! - the already reconciled children answered unanimously. - Come to us again from afar.

- Goodbye, - the watchman smiled with his eyes. - I do not know where you are going and what you are looking for, but just know: the worst for me is far away - this is to the left by the river, where our old rural cemetery stands. And the best thing is far away - it is to the right, through the meadow, through the ravines where the stone is being dug. Then go by the copse, go around the swamp. There, over the lake, there is a huge pine forest. There are mushrooms, flowers, and raspberries in it. There is a house on the shore. My daughter Valentina and her son Fyodor live in it. And if you get there, then bow to them from me.

Then the strange old man raised his hat, whistled to the dog, puffed with his pipe, leaving behind him a wide strip of thick smoke, and walked towards the yellow pea field.

Svetlana and I looked at each other - what a sad cemetery for us! We grabbed hands and turned to the right, into the best far away.

We crossed the meadows and went down into the ravines.

We saw people dragging a stone, white as sugar, from deep black pits. And not just one lingering pebble. We have already piled up a whole mountain. And the wheels keep turning, the cars creak. And they are still driving. And they pile more.

It can be seen that a lot of all kinds of stones are hidden under the ground.

Svetlana also wanted to look underground. For a long time, lying on her stomach, she looked into the black hole. And when I pulled her by the legs, she told me that at first she saw only one darkness. And then I saw under the ground some kind of black sea, and someone there in the sea was making noise and tossing and turning. It must be a shark with two tails, one tail in the front and the other in the back. And she also fancied the Scarecrow in three hundred twenty-five legs. And with one golden eye. The Scarecrow sits and hums.

I looked slyly at Svetlana and asked if she had seen there at the same time a steamer with two pipes, a gray monkey on a tree and a polar bear on an ice floe.

Svetlana thought, she remembered. And it turns out that I also saw it.

I shook my finger at her: oh, isn't he lying? But she laughed in response and started running as fast as she could.

We walked for a long time, often stopped, rested and picked flowers. Then, when they got tired of lugging, they left the bouquets on the road.

I threw one bouquet to the old grandmother in the cart. The grandmother was frightened at first, not understanding what it was, and shook her fist at us. But then she saw, smiled and threw three large green cucumbers from the cart.

We picked up the cucumbers, wiped them off, put them in a bag and cheerfully went our own way.

On the way we met a village where those who plow the land live, sow bread in the field, plant potatoes, cabbage, beets, or work in orchards and vegetable gardens.

Outside the village, we met low green graves, where those that had already been weeded out and worked out are lying.

We came across a tree shattered by lightning.

We stumbled upon a herd of horses, each of which - even to Budyonny himself.

We also saw a priest in a long black robe. They looked after him and marveled that there were still some eccentric people left in the world.

Then we got worried when the sky darkened. Clouds came running from everywhere. They surrounded, caught and covered the sun. But it stubbornly burst out into one or the other hole. Finally it escaped and sparkled over the vast land even hotter and brighter.

Far behind was our gray house with a wooden roof.

And Maroussia must have returned a long time ago. Looked - no. I looked - I did not find it. Sits and waits, stupid!

- Dad! - finally said the tired Svetlana. - Let's sit with you somewhere and have something to eat.

We began to search and found such a clearing that not everyone will come across in the world.

Lush branches of wild hazel were thrown open before us with a noise. A young silvery tree stood with its edge towards the sky. And in thousands, brighter than the flags on May Day - blue, red, blue, lilac - fragrant flowers surrounded the tree and stood motionless.

Even the birds did not sing over that clearing - it was so quiet.

Only the gray fool-crow thumped from the summer onto the branch, looked around that she had got to the wrong place, croaked in surprise: "Carr ... carr ..." - and immediately flew away to her filthy garbage pits.

- Sit down, Svetlana, guard the bag, and I'll go and fill a flask of water. Do not be afraid: only one animal lives here - the long-eared hare.

“I’m not even afraid of a thousand birds with one stone,” Svetlana replied boldly, “but you should come as soon as possible.

The water was not close, and, returning, I was already worried about Svetlana.

But she was not frightened and did not cry, but sang.

I hid behind a bush and saw that the red-haired fat Svetlana stood in front of the flowers that rose to her shoulders, and with enthusiasm sang the following song just composed:

Gay! .. Gay! ..

We didn't break the blue cups.

No no!..

The field watchman walks in the field.

But we did not go into the garden for carrots.

And I didn’t climb, and he didn’t climb.

And Sanka once climbed into the garden.

Gay! .. Gay! ..

The Red Army is walking in the field.

(She came from the city.)

The Red Army is the reddest

And the white army is the whitest.

Tru-ru-ru! Tra-ta-ta!

Silently and solemnly, the tall flowers listened to this song and quietly nodded to Svetlana with their magnificent heads.

- Come to me, drummer! - I shouted, pushing the bushes. - There are cold water, red apples, white bread and yellow gingerbread. I don't mind anything for a good song.

Svetlana was a little embarrassed. She shook her head reproachfully and, just like Marusya, screwing up her eyes, said:

- He hid and eavesdrops. It's a shame, dear comrade!

Suddenly Svetlana became quiet and thoughtful.

And then, while we were eating, a gray siskin suddenly descended onto a branch and chirped something like that.

It was a brave siskin. He sat right in front of us, bouncing, chirping and not flying away.

- This is a familiar siskin, - Svetlana firmly decided. - I saw him when my mother and I were swinging in the garden on a swing. She rocked me high. Fyut! .. Fyut! .. And why did he come to us so far?

- No! No! I replied resolutely. - This is a completely different siskin. You are wrong, Svetlana. That siskin on its tail lacks the feathers that the owner's one-eyed cat ripped out for him. That siskin is fatter, and he chirps in a very different voice.

- No, that one! - Svetlana repeated stubbornly. - I know. It was he who flew so far behind us.

- Gay, gay! - I sang in a sad bass. “But we didn't break the blue cups. And we decided to go for good.

The gray siskin chirped angrily. Not a single flower out of a million swayed or nodded. And the frowning Svetlana sternly said:

We gathered in silence. We left the grove. And here, luckily for me, a cool blue river sparkled under the mountain.

And then I raised Svetlana. And when she saw the sandy coast, green islands, she forgot everything in the world and, happily clapping her hands, shouted:

- Bathe! Bathe! Bathe!

To shorten the path, we went straight to the river through damp meadows.

Soon we found ourselves in front of dense thickets of marsh bush. We did not want to return, and we decided to somehow make our way. But the further we went, the tighter the swamp tightened around us.

We circled through the swamp, turned right and left, climbed over flimsy perches, jumped from bump to bump. They got wet, smeared, but could not get out in any way.

And somewhere not far away behind the bushes a herd was tossing and turning and bellowing, a shepherd snapped a whip and a little dog who sensed us barked angrily. But we saw nothing but rusty swamp water, rotten bushes and sedges.

Already anxiety appeared on the freckled face of the hushed Svetlanka. More and more often she turned around, looking into my face with a silent reproach: “What is this, folder? You are big, strong, but we are really bad! "

- Stay here and don't leave your place! - I ordered, putting Svetlana on a piece of dry land.

I wrapped myself in a thicket, but even in that direction there was only a green goo intertwined with fat bog flowers.

I returned and saw that Svetlana was not standing at all, but carefully, holding onto the bushes, was making her way towards me.

- Stop where you put it! I said sharply.

Svetlana stopped. Her eyes blinked and her lips twitched.

And I felt very sorry for Svetlanka, who got into trouble because of me.

- Here, take a stick, - I shouted, - and beat them, worthless frogs, on whatever! Just stand still! Let's get over now.

I turned again into a thicket and got angry. What is it? Is it possible to compare this filthy swamp with the endless reeds of the wide Dnieper region or with the gloomy floodplains of the Akhtyrka, where we once smashed and strangled the white Wrangel landing party!

From bump to bump, from bush to bush. Once - and waist-deep in water. Two - and dry aspen crunched. Following the aspen, a rotten log flew into the mud. A rotten stump plopped down hard. Here is the support. Here's another puddle. And here it is, a dry shore.

And, pushing the reed apart, I found myself next to a frightened goat that jumped up.

- Hey gay! Svetlana! I shouted. - You stand?

- Hey gay! - Quietly came a plaintive thin voice from the thicket. - I'm a hundred-oh!

We made our way to the river. We cleaned off all the dirt and slime that covered us from all sides. We rinsed our clothes, and while they dried on the hot sand, we swam.

And all the fish rushed away in horror into their deep depths, when we whipped up the sparkling foamy waterfalls with laughter.

And the black mustachioed crayfish, which I pulled out of his underwater country, rolling with my round eyes, scrambled and jumped in fear: it must have been the first time I saw such an unbearably bright sun and such an unbearably red-haired girl.

And then, having contrived, he angrily grabbed Svetlana's finger. With a cry, Svetlana threw him into the very middle of the goose herd. The stupid fat goslings scampered to the sides.

But an old gray goose came up from the side. He had seen many and more terrible in the world. He squinted his head, looked with one eye, pecked - then he, cancer, and death came.

... But here we bathed, dried up, dressed and moved on.

And again, we came across a lot of everyone along the way: people, horses, carts, cars, and even a gray beast - a hedgehog, which we took with us. Yes, only he soon pricked our hands, and we pushed him into the icy stream.

The hedgehog snorted and swam to the other side. “Here,” he thinks, “disgraceful! Now look for your hole from here. "

And we finally went out to the lake.

It was here that the most distant field of the "Rassvet" collective farm ended, and on the other bank the lands of "Krasnaya Zarya" were already spread out.

Then we saw a log house at the edge of the forest and immediately guessed that the watchman's daughter Valentina and her son Fyodor lived here.

We approached the fence from the side from which the estate was guarded by tall, like soldiers, flowers - sunflowers.

Valentina herself stood on the porch in the garden. She was tall and broad-shouldered, like her father, a watchman. The collar of the blue sweater was thrown open. She held a floor brush in one hand and a wet rag in the other.

- Fedor! She shouted sternly. - Where are you, you scoundrel, touched the gray pan?

- In-on! - an important voice sounded from under the raspberries, and the fair-haired Fyodor pointed to the puddle, where the saucepan, laden with wood chips and grass, was floating.

- And where, shameless, hid the sieve?

- In-on! - Fyodor answered in the same important way and pointed to a sieve pressed down by a stone, under which something was tossing and turning.

- Wait a minute, chieftain! .. You come home, I will smooth you with a wet rag, - Valentina threatened and, seeing us, pulled up her tucked skirt.

- Hello! - I said. - Father sends you a bow.

- Thanks! - Valentina responded. - Go to the garden, relax.

We went through the gate and lay down under a ripe apple tree.

Fat son Fyodor was in only one shirt, and his wet trousers soiled with clay lay in the grass.

“I eat raspberries,” Fyodor told us seriously. - I ate two bushes. And I will.

- Eat to your health, - I wished. - Just look, friend, do not burst.

Fyodor stopped, poked himself in the stomach with his fist, looked angrily at me and, grabbing his pants, waddled towards the house.

For a long time we lay in silence. It seemed to me that Svetlana fell asleep. I turned to her and saw that she was not asleep at all, but, holding her breath, was looking at the silvery butterfly, which was quietly crawling along the sleeve of her pink dress.

And suddenly there was a powerful rumbling rumble, the air trembled, and the shiny plane, like a storm, rushed over the tops of the quiet apple trees.

Svetlana shuddered, a butterfly fluttered, a yellow rooster flew off the fence, a frightened jackdaw flashed across the sky with a cry - and everything was quiet.

- This is the same pilot who flew by, - Svetlana said with annoyance, - this is the one who came to us yesterday.

- Why is that? I asked, raising my head. - Maybe it's completely different.

- No, the same one. I myself heard yesterday how he told my mother that he was leaving tomorrow far and for good. I ate a red tomato, and my mother answered him: “Well, goodbye. Happy journey "...

- Folder, - sitting on my stomach, asked Svetlana, - tell me something about mom. Well, for example, how it was when I was not there yet.

- As it was? Yes, everything was the same. First day, then night, then day again, and another night ...

- And a thousand more days! - Svetlana interrupted impatiently. - Well, here you are and tell me what happened these days. You know yourself, but you pretend ...

- Okay, I'll tell you, only you get off me on the grass, otherwise it will be hard for me to tell. Well, listen! ..

Then our Marusa was seventeen years old. White attacked their town, they seized Marusya's father and put him in prison. And her mother was gone for a long time, and our Marusya was left all alone ...

- Something feels sorry for her, - moving closer, inserted Svetlana.

- Marusya threw a handkerchief and ran out into the street. And on the street, white soldiers lead both workers and women workers to the prison. And the bourgeois, of course, are happy with the white people, and everywhere in their houses lights are burning, music is playing. And our Marusa has nowhere to go, and there is no one to tell her about her grief ...

- Something is already quite a pity, - Svetlana interrupted impatiently. - You, folder, tell the red ones soon.

- Then Marusya went out of town. The moon was shining. The wind rustled. And a wide steppe stretched out in front of Marusya ...

- With wolves?

- No, no wolves. The wolves then hid from the shooting in the woods. And Marusya thought: “I'll run away across the steppe to the city of Belgorod. There is the Red Army of Comrade Voroshilov. He is said to be very brave. And if you ask, then maybe it will help. "

And that stupid Marusya did not know that the Red Army never expects to be asked for. And she herself rushes to help where the whites attacked. And already close to Marusya our Red Army detachments are advancing across the steppe. And each rifle is loaded with five rounds, and each machine gun is loaded with two hundred and fifty rounds.

Then I rode across the steppe with a military patrol. Suddenly, a shadow flashed across the hill. “Aha! - think. - Stop: white scout. You won't go anywhere further. "

I hit the horse with my spurs. I jumped over the hillock. I looked - what a miracle: there is no white scout, but some girl is standing under the moonlight. The face is not visible, and only the hair flutters in the wind.

I jumped off the horse, and hold the revolver in my hand just in case. I came up and asked: "Who are you and why are you running around the steppe at midnight?"

And the moon came out big, tremendous! The girl on my hat saw a Red Army star, hugged me and began to cry.

It was then that we met with her, with Marusya.

And in the morning we knocked the whites out of the city. The prisons were opened and the workers were released.

Here I am in the afternoon in the infirmary. My chest is a little shot. And my shoulder hurts: when I fell from a horse, I hit a stone.

My squadron commander comes to me and says:

So the day has passed. Hello evening! And my chest hurts, and my shoulder hurts. And the heart is bored. It's boring, friend Svetlana, to be alone without comrades!

Suddenly the door opened, and quickly, noiselessly Marusya entered on her toes! And then I was so happy that I even screamed.

And Marusya came up, sat down next to me and put her hand on my very hot head and said:

“I was looking for you all day after the battle. Does it hurt you, dear? "

And I say:

“I don't give a damn that it hurts, Marusya. Why are you so pale? "

“You sleep,” answered Marusya. - Sleep tight. I will be near you all the days. "

It was then that Marusya and I met for the second time and since then we have always lived together.

- Folder, - Svetlana asked excitedly then. “We didn't really leave home, did we?” She loves us. We just walk around, walk around and come again.

- How do you know what he loves? Maybe he still loves you, but I no longer exist.

- Oh, you're lying! - Svetlana shook her head. - I woke up last night, I look, my mother put down the book, turned to you and looks at you for a long time.

- Eco thing that looks! She even looks out the window, looks at all people! There are eyes, so he looks.

- Oh, No! - Svetlana objected convincingly. - When in the window, it looks completely different, but here's how ...

Then Svetlana raised her thin eyebrows, tilted her head to one side, pursed her lips and looked indifferently at the rooster passing by.

- And when they love, they do not look like that.

As if a radiance lit up Svetlanka's blue eyes, drooping eyelashes flinched, and a sweet, pensive Marusin's gaze fell on my face.

- Rogue! - picking up Svetlana, I shouted. “How did you look at me yesterday when you spilled the ink?”

- Well, then you kicked me out the door, and the vykannye always look angrily.

We didn't break the blue cups. Perhaps Marusya herself somehow broke it. But we forgave her. You never know who will think bad things in vain? Once Svetlana also thought of me. Yes, I myself thought badly about Marusya too. And I went to the hostess Valentina to ask if we could get closer to the house.

- Now my husband will go to the station, - said Valentina. - He will take you to the mill itself, and there it is already not far.

Returning to the garden, I met an embarrassed Svetlana at the porch.

“Dad,” she said in a mysterious whisper, “this son Fyodor crawled out of raspberries and pulls gingerbread out of your bag.

We went to the apple tree, but the cunning son Fyodor, seeing us, hastily hid in the midst of the burdocks under the fence.

- Fedor! I called. - Come here, don't be afraid.

The tops of the burdocks swayed, and it was clear that Fedor was resolutely moving away.

- Fedor! I repeated. - Go here. I'll give you all the gingerbread.

The burdocks stopped swaying, and soon a heavy puffing came from the thicket.

Then, like a giant over the forest, I walked over the burdocks, took out the stern Fyodor and poured all the remains from the sack in front of him.

He unhurriedly tucked everything into the hem of his shirt and, without even saying "thank you," went to the other end of the garden.

- Look how important, - Svetlana remarked disapprovingly, - he took off his pants and walks like a master!

A cart pulled by a pair drove up to the house. Valentina came out onto the porch:

- Get ready, the horses are good - they will drive quickly.

Fyodor appeared again. He was now in trousers and, walking quickly, was dragging a pretty smoky kitten by the collar. The kitten must have got used to such grips, because it didn’t pull away, didn’t meow, but only impatiently twiddled its fluffy tail.

- On! - said Fedor and thrust the kitten into Svetlana.

- Absolutely? - Svetlana was delighted and looked at me hesitantly.

- Take it, take it if necessary, - suggested Valentina. - We have a lot of this stuff. Fedor! Why did you hide the gingerbread in cabbage beds? I saw everything through the window.

- All in a grandfather, - Valentina smiled. - A sort of healthy. And only four years.

We drove along a wide, flat road. Evening was falling. Tired but cheerful people came to meet us from work.

A collective farm truck rumbled into the garage.

A war trumpet sang in the field.

A signal bell rang in the village.

A heavy-heavy steam locomotive began to hum behind the forest. Tuu! .. Tu! .. Turn around, wheels, hurry up, wagons, railway, long, distant!

And, tightly clutching the fluffy kitten, happy Svetlana sang such a song to the sound of the cart.

Gaidar's Tales

An interesting story about one family - the father of a wounded Red Army soldier, 32 years old, his wife Marusya, 29 years old, and their daughter Svetlana, 6.5 years old, who came on vacation to a dacha near Moscow. Once, dad and daughter were making a beautiful toy on the roof of their house - a sparkling turntable that spins in the wind. But mom came and drove home from the roof, and the next morning Marusya accused dad and daughter of breaking her blue cup in the closet. But they did not do this and, offended, left the house aimlessly. And their eyes looked far into the field. On the way, they met Sasha, whom everyone called a fascist because in anger he called the girl Berta a "Jew". His friend Pashka wanted to kick for it, but Sashka joined the travelers and he did not touch him. Then they reached the field, where they met the Red Army artillerymen, who fired volleys at the enemy, and also met a local watchman with a dog who was guarding the fields. The old watchman talked with them, told where his daughter and grandson lived, and dad and daughter went on. We got into a swampy area on the way to the river and barely found a way out of the swamp. We reached the river and began to swim, dad caught the cancer, which clung to Svetlana and she threw it to the geese, one of which fatally punished the cancer for this. After the river, dad and Svetlana reached the house where the watchman's daughter and her son Fyodor lived. We rested, treated Fyodor to gingerbread and began to wait for them to be taken back to the mill. Fedor, in gratitude for the gingerbread cookies, gave Svetlana a kitten, which they brought home. And at home Marusya was waiting for them. They arrived and decided that it was the mice that broke the blue cup and that none of them were offended again.

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I was then thirty-two years old. Marusa is twenty-nine, and our daughter Svetlana is six and a half. Only at the end of summer I got a vacation, and for the last warm month we rented a dacha near Moscow.
Svetlana and I thought about fishing, swimming, picking mushrooms and nuts in the forest. And I had to immediately sweep the yard, fix the dilapidated fences, stretch the ropes, hammer in crutches and nails.
We got tired of all this very soon, and Marusya, one after the other, keeps on inventing new and new things for herself and for us.
Only on the third day in the evening everything was finally done. And just when the three of us were about to go for a walk, her comrade, a polar pilot, came to Marusa.
They sat for a long time in the garden, under the cherries. And Svetlana and I went into the yard to the barn and out of frustration set about making a wooden turntable.
When it got dark, Marusya shouted for Svetlana to drink milk and go to bed, and she herself went to see the pilot to the station.
But I got bored without Marusya, and Svetlana did not want to sleep alone in an empty house.
We got flour from the closet. We brewed it with boiling water - it turned out to be a paste.
We pasted over the smooth turntable with colored paper, smoothed it thoroughly and climbed through the dusty attic onto the roof.
Here we are sitting astride the roof. And we can see from above, as in the neighboring garden, by the porch, a samovar is smoking a pipe. And on the porch sits a lame old man with a balalaika, and children crowd around him.
Then a barefooted, hunched old woman jumped out of the black passage. She turned the children around, scolded the old man and, grabbing a rag, began to slap on the burner of the samovar to make it boil faster.
We laughed and think: if the wind blows, our fast turntable will whirl, whirr. Children from all the yards will run to our house. Then we will have our own company.
And tomorrow we'll think of something else.
Maybe we'll dig a deep cave for the frog that lives in our garden, near the damp cellar.
Maybe we will ask Marusya for some harsh threads and launch a kite - above the silo tower, above the yellow pines and even above that kite that has been guarding the master's chickens and rabbits from the sky all day today.
Or maybe tomorrow, early in the morning, we will sit in the boat - I will row, Marusya is behind the wheel, Svetlana is a passenger - and we will sail along the river to where there is, they say, a large forest, where two hollow birches grow on the bank, under which a neighbor girl three good porcini mushrooms. The only pity is that they were all wormy.
Suddenly Svetlana pulled my sleeve and said:
- Look, dad, but it seems that it is our mother who is coming, and no matter how it gets to you and me.
Indeed, our Marusya is walking along the path along the fence, but we thought that she would not return soon.
“Bend over,” I said to Svetlana. “Maybe she won't notice.
But Marusya immediately noticed us, raised her head and shouted:
- Why are you, worthless people, climbed onto the roof? It's already damp in the yard. It is high time for Svetlana to sleep. And you were glad that I was not at home, and are ready to pamper me even until midnight.
- Marusya, - I replied, - we do not spoil, we nail the turntable. Wait a little, we only have three nails left to finish.
- Finish it tomorrow! - ordered Marusya. - Now get off, or I'll be completely angry.
Svetlana and I looked at each other. We see our business is bad. They took it and got off. But they took offense at Marusya.
And although Marusya brought a big apple from the station to Svetlana and a pack of tobacco for me, they were still offended.
So with resentment and fell asleep.
And in the morning - still a new thing! We just woke up, Marusya comes up and asks:
“You better confess, you mischievous people, that they broke my blue cup in the closet!
And I didn't break the cups. And Svetlana says that she did not break it either. We looked at each other with her and both thought that Marusya was talking about us in vain.
But Marusya didn't believe us.
“The cups,” she says, “are not alive: they have no legs. They do not know how to jump to the floor. And besides you two, nobody climbed into the closet yesterday. Broke and do not confess. It's a shame, comrades!
After breakfast, Marusya suddenly got ready and went to the city, and we sat down and thought.
Here we go on the boat!
And the sun looks into our windows. And the sparrows gallop along the sandy paths. And the chickens dash through the wooden fence from yard to street and from street to yard.
And we're not having fun at all.
- Well! - I say to Svetlana. “You and I were driven off the roof yesterday. A can of kerosene was recently taken away from us. They scolded in vain for some blue cup. Is this a good life?
- Of course, - says Svetlana, - life is absolutely bad.
- Come on, Svetlana, put on your pink dress. We will take my camping bag from behind the stove, put your apple, my tobacco, matches, knife, bun, and leave this house wherever we can.
Svetlana thought and asks:
- Where are your eyes looking?
- And they are looking, Svetlana, through the window, here at that yellow meadow where the mistress's cow grazes. And beyond the clearing, I know, there is a goose pond, and beyond the pond there is a water mill, and behind the mill on the mountain there is a birch grove. And what is behind the mountain - I myself do not know.
- Okay, - Svetlana agreed, - let's take bread, and an apple, and tobacco, but just take another thick stick with you, because somewhere in that side lives the terrible dog Polkan. And the boys told me about her that she just ate one to death.
And so we did. They put what they needed in the bag, closed all five windows, locked both doors, and slipped the key under the porch.
Goodbye, Marusya! And we didn’t break your cups anyway.
We went out the gate, and a milkmaid met us.
- Do you need milk?
- No, grandma! We don't need anything else.
- I have fresh milk, good, from my cow, - the milkmaid was offended. - Come back, so sorry.
She thundered with her cold cans and walked on. And where can she guess that we are going far and may not return?
And no one knew about it. A tanned boy rode a bike. Probably walking into the forest for mushrooms, a fat guy in shorts and with a pipe. A blond girl with her hair wet after bathing passed by. And we did not meet any acquaintances.
We got out through the vegetable gardens to a clearing yellow from night blindness, took off our sandals and walked barefoot along the warm path across the meadow straight to the mill.
We walk, we walk, and now we see that a man is rushing from the mill in full spirit to meet us. He bent down, and from behind the bush bushes clods of earth are flying at his back. It seemed strange to us. What? Svetlana's eyes are sharp-sighted, she stopped and said:
- And I know who is running. This is a boy, Sanka Karjakin, who lives near the house where some pigs climbed into the tomato beds in the garden. Yesterday, just opposite our dacha, he rode a strange goat on horseback. Do you remember?
Sanka ran up to us, stopped and wipes his tears with a cotton bag. And we ask him:
- Why is it, Sanka, you rushed with all your might and why did clods fly after you from behind the bushes?
Sanka turned away and said:
- My grandmother sent me to the collective farm shop for salt. And the pioneer Pashka Bukamashkin is sitting at the mill, and he wants to tear me up.
Svetlana looked at him. That's the way it is!
Isn't there such a law in the Soviet country that a person would run to a collective farm shop for salt, not touch anyone, bully and suddenly they would start to tear him up for no reason at all?
- Come with us, Sanka, - says Svetlana. - Do not be afraid. We are on our way, and we will intercede for you.
The three of us went through the thick broom.
- Here he is, Pashka Bukamashkin, - said Sanka and backed away.
We see - there is a mill. There is a cart near the mill. Under the cart lies a curly little dog, all covered in burdocks, and, opening one eye, watches the nimble sparrows peck at the grains scattered on the sand. And on a pile of sand, Pashka Bukamashkin sits without a shirt and gnaws a fresh cucumber.
Pashka saw us, but was not scared, and threw the stub at the little dog and said, without looking at anyone:
- Huh! .. Sharik ... Huh! .. There is a famous fascist, White Guard Sanka coming here. Wait, unfortunate fascist! We will deal with you yet.
Then Pashka spat far into the sand. The curly little dog growled. The frightened sparrows roared up the tree. And Svetlana and I, having heard such words, came closer to Pashka.
- Wait, Pashka, - I said. - Maybe you were wrong? What kind of a fascist is this, a White Guard? After all, this is simply Sanka Karjakin, who lives near the house where someone's pigs climbed into tomato beds in someone else's garden.
“All the same, a White Guard,” Pashka repeated stubbornly. “And if you don’t believe it, do you want me to tell you his whole story?”
Here Svetlana and I really wanted to know Sankin's entire story. We sat on the logs, Pashka opposite. A curly little dog at our feet, on the grass. Only Sanka did not sit down, but, leaving behind the cart, shouted angrily from there:
- Then tell me everything! And how it hit me on the back of the head, tell me too. You think the back of your head doesn't hurt? Take yourself and knock.
“There is a city of Dresden in Germany,” Pashka said calmly, “and from this city one worker, a Jew, ran away from the Nazis. He ran away and came to us. And the girl came with him, Bertha. He himself now works at this mill, and Berta plays with us. Only now she ran to the village for milk. So, the day before yesterday we were playing siskin: me, Berta, this man, Sanka, and one more from the village. Berta hits the siskin with a stick and accidentally hits this Sanka on the back of the head, or something ...
“I hit it right on the top of my head,” Sanka said from behind the cart. - My head started to buzz, and she still laughs.
- Well, - Pashka continued, - she hit this Sanka on the top of the head with a siskin. He first fisted at her, and then nothing. He put a burdock to his head - and again he plays with us. Only after that he became impossible to cheat. He will take an extra step and aim with a siskin right on the line.
- You're lying, you're lying! - Sanka jumped out from behind the cart. - It was your dog who poked his face, here he is, a siskin, and rolled up.
- And you are not playing with the dog, but with us. I would take it and put the siskin in its place. Well. He threw the siskin, and Berta, as soon as he had enough with a stick, so this siskin flew right to the other end of the field, into the nettles. We find it funny, but Sanka is angry. It is clear that he is reluctant to run after the siskin into the nettles ... He climbed over the fence and yells from there: “You fool, Jewess! So that you fail back to your Germany! " But Berta already understands a fool in Russian well, but still does not understand the Jewish woman in any way. She comes up to me and asks: "What is this Jewess?" And I am ashamed to say. I shout: "Shut up, Sanka!" And he deliberately shouts louder and louder. I follow him over the fence. He is in the bushes. So he disappeared. When I returned, I looked: the stick was lying on the grass, and Berta was sitting in the corner on the logs. I call: "Bertha!" She is not responding. I came up - I see: there are tears in her eyes. So she guessed it herself. Then I picked up a stone from the ground, put it in my pocket and thought: “Well, wait, damn Sanka! This is not Germany. We can handle your fascism ourselves! " We looked at Sanka and thought: “Well, brother, you have a bad story. Even listening is disgusting. And we were still going to intercede for you. "
And I was just about to say this, when suddenly the mill trembled and began to rustle, a rested wheel spun on the water. A cat sprinkled with flour, dazed with fright, jumped out of the mill window. Sleepily missed and fell right on the back of the dozing Sharik. The ball screeched and jumped. The cat darted to the tree, the sparrows from the tree to the roof. The horse lifted its muzzle and jerked the cart. And from the shed some shaggy uncle, gray with flour, looked out and, without understanding, threatened Sanka with a long whip, who had jumped off the cart:
- But, but ... look, do not spoil, otherwise I will vigorously pull out!
Svetlana laughed, and she felt sorry for this unfortunate Sanka, whom everyone wants to rip out.
“Dad,” she told me. - Maybe he is not such a fascist at all? Maybe he's just a fool? Is it true, Sanka, that you are just a fool? - asked Svetlana and looked tenderly into his face.
In response, Sanka just snorted angrily, shook his head, sniffed and wanted to say something.

And what can you say when you are all around yourself to blame and, in truth, there is nothing to say.
But then Pashka's little dog suddenly stopped yelling at the cat and, turning to the field, raised its ears.
Somewhere beyond the grove, a shot slammed. Another. Both off and on! ..
- Fight nearby! - Pashka cried out.
“The fight is nearby,” I said. - It's firing from rifles. But do you hear? The machine gun shot it.
- Who's with whom? - Svetlana asked in a trembling voice. - Is it already a war?
Pashka was the first to jump up. The dog ran after him. I picked up Svetlana in my arms and also ran to the grove.
We did not have time to run half the road when we heard a cry behind us. We turned around and saw Sanka.
Raising his arms high so that we would notice him sooner, he rushed towards us straight through the ditches and hummocks.
- Look how a goat gallops! - muttered Pashka. - And what is this fool swinging over his head?
- This is not a fool. He's dragging my sandals! - Svetlana shouted joyfully. - I forgot them on the logs, but he found them and brings them to me. You would make peace with him, Pashka!
Pashka frowned and said nothing. We waited for Sanka, took Svetlana's yellow sandals from him. And now the four of us, with the dog, went through the grove to the edge.
In front of us was a hilly field overgrown with bushes. By the stream, a goat tied to a peg was nibbling at the grass, jingling with a tin bell. A lonely kite was flying smoothly in the sky. That's all. And there was no one and nothing else in this field.
- So where is the war here? - Svetlana asked impatiently.
- And now I'll take a look, - said Pashka and climbed onto a tree stump.
For a long time he stood, squinting from the sun and covering his eyes with his palm. And who knows what he saw there, but only Svetlana got tired of waiting, and she, tangled in the grass, went herself to look for a war.
“The grass is high for me, and I’m low,” Svetlana complained, standing up on tiptoe. “And I don’t see at all.
“Look under your feet, don't touch the wire,” a loud voice said from above.
In an instant, Pashka flew off the hemp. Awkwardly, he bounced towards Sanka. And Svetlana rushed to me and grabbed my hand tightly.
We backed away and then saw that right above us, in the dense branches of a lonely tree, a Red Army soldier was hiding.
The rifle hung on a branch next to him. In one hand he held a telephone receiver and, without moving, looked through shiny black binoculars somewhere at the edge of a deserted field.
Before we had time to utter the words, from afar, like thunder with ripples and ripples, a terrible cannon salvo struck. The ground shook underfoot. Far from us, a cloud of black dust and smoke rose over the field. Like a madman, the goat jumped up and fell off the urine rope. And the kite swerved in the sky and, quickly flapping its wings, sped away.
- It’s bad for the fascists! - Pashka said loudly and looked at Sanka. - This is how our batteries beat.
“It’s bad for the Nazis,” the hoarse voice echoed.
And then we saw that a gray-haired, bearded old man was standing under the bushes.
The old man had mighty shoulders. In his hands he held a heavy gnarled club. And at his feet stood a tall, shaggy dog ​​and bared its teeth at Pashkin Sharik, his tail between his legs.
The old man raised his wide straw hat, bowed gravely first to Svetlana, then to all of us. Then he put the truncheon on the grass, took out a crooked pipe, filled it with tobacco and began to light it.
He lit a cigarette for a long time, then crushing the tobacco with his finger, then turning it with a nail, like a poker in a stove.
Finally he lit a cigarette, and then he puffed and smoked so hard that the Red Army soldier sitting on a tree sneezed and coughed.
Then the battery thundered again, and we saw that the empty and quiet field at once came to life, rustled and stirred. From behind the bushes, from behind the hillocks, from behind the ditches, from behind the bumps, Red Army men jumped out from everywhere with rifles at the ready.
They ran, jumped, fell, climbed again. They moved, closed, they became more and more; at last, with loud shouts from the whole bulk, they rushed with bayonets to the top of a gentle hill, where a cloud of dust and smoke was still smoking.
Then everything was quiet. From the summit, a barely noticeable and like a toy signalman waved flags to us. The military trumpet began to play sharply.
Breaking off branches with heavy boots, the Red Army observer got down from the tree. He quickly stroked Svetlana, thrust three shiny acorns into her hand, and hurriedly ran away, reeling a thin telephone wire onto a reel.
The military exercise is over.
- Well, have you? - nudging Sanka with his elbow, Pashka said reproachfully. - This is not a siskin on the back of your head. Here the tops of your heads will quickly help you.
- Strange I hear conversations, - moving forward, said the bearded old man. - Apparently, I have lived for sixty years, but have not made my mind. I don't understand anything. Here, under the mountain, is our collective farm "Dawn". All around these are our fields: oats, buckwheat, millet, wheat. This is our new mill on the river. And there, in the grove, is our big apiary. And over all this I am the main guardian. I saw swindlers, I also caught horse thieves, but so that at least one fascist appeared on my site - this had never happened before under Soviet rule. Come to me, Sanka is a formidable person. Let me at least look at you. Wait, wait, just pick up your drool and wipe your nose. I’m scared to look at you anyway.
All this unhurriedly said the mocking old man and looked with curiosity from under the shaggy eyebrows ... at the staring eyes of the amazed Sanka.
- Not true! - sniffled, screamed offended Sanka. - I'm not a fascist, but all Soviet. And the girl Berta has not been angry for a long time and yesterday she bit off more than half of my apple. And this Pashka sets all the boys on me. He swears himself, but I have screwed up the spring. Since I am a fascist, it means that the spring is also fascist. And he made some kind of rocking chair out of it for his dog. I say to him: "Come on, Pashka, we will make up," and he says: "First, I will remove, and then we will make up."
- We must put up without shit, - Svetlana said with conviction. - We must grapple with little fingers, spit on the ground and say: "Quarrels, quarrels never, but peace, peace forever." Well, grapple! And you, the chief watchman, shout at your terrible dog, and let it not frighten our little Sharik.
- Back, Polkan! - shouted the watchman. - Lie on the ground and don't touch your own!
- Oh, that's who it is! Here he is, the giant Polkan, shaggy and toothed.
Svetlana stood, twisted, came closer and shook her finger:
- And I'm mine, but don't touch your own!
Polkan looked: Svetlana's eyes were clear, her hands smelled of grass and flowers. He smiled and wagged his tail.
Then Sanka and Pashka became jealous, they moved over and also asked:
- And we are ours, but don't touch ours!
Polkan poked his nose suspiciously: does not the cunning boys smell of carrots from the collective farm gardens? But then, as if on purpose, throwing up dust, a stray foal rushed along the path. Polkan sneezed without making it out. To touch - did not touch, but did not wag with his tail and did not allow to stroke.
- We have to go, - I realized. - The sun is high, soon noon. Wow, how hot it is!
- Bye! - Svetlana said goodbye to everyone. - We're going far away again.
- Bye! - the already reconciled children answered unanimously. - Come to us again from afar.
- Goodbye, - the watchman smiled with his eyes. - I do not know where you are going and what you are looking for, but just know: the worst thing for me is far away - this is to the left by the river, where our old rural cemetery stands. And the best part is far away - it is to the right, through the meadow, through the ravines where the stone is being dug. Then go by the copse, go around the swamp. There, over the lake, there is a huge pine forest. There are mushrooms, flowers, and raspberries in it. There is a house on the shore. My daughter Valentina and her son Fedor live in it. And if you get there, then bow to them from me.
Then the strange old man raised his hat, whistled to the dog, puffed on his pipe, leaving behind him a wide strip of thick smoke, and walked towards the yellow pea field.
Svetlana and I looked at each other - what a sad cemetery for us! We grabbed hands and turned to the right, in the best way.
We crossed the meadows and went down into the ravines.
We saw people dragging a stone, white as sugar, from deep black pits. And not just one lingering pebble. We have already piled up a whole mountain. And the wheels keep turning, the cars creak. And they are still driving. And they pile more.
It can be seen that a lot of all kinds of stones are hidden under the ground.
Svetlana also wanted to look underground. For a long time, lying on her stomach, she looked into the black hole. And when I pulled her by the legs, she told me that at first she saw only one darkness. And then I saw under the ground some kind of black sea, and someone there in the sea was making noise and tossing and turning. It must be a shark with two tails, one tail in the front and the other in the back. And she also fancied the Scarecrow at three hundred twenty-five feet. And with one golden eye. The Scarecrow sits and hums.
I looked slyly at Svetlana and asked if she had seen there at the same time a steamer with two pipes, a gray monkey on a tree and a polar bear on an ice floe.
Svetlana thought, she remembered. And it turns out that I also saw it.
I shook my finger at her: oh, isn't he lying? But she laughed in response and started running as fast as she could.
We walked for a long time, often stopped, rested and picked flowers. Then, when they got tired of lugging, they left the bouquets on the road.
I threw one bouquet to the old grandmother in the cart. The grandmother was frightened at first, not understanding what it was, and shook her fist at us. But then she saw, smiled and threw three large green cucumbers from the cart.
We picked up the cucumbers, wiped them off, put them in a bag and cheerfully went our own way.
On the way, we met a village where those who plow the land live, sow bread in the field, plant potatoes, cabbage, beets, or work in orchards and vegetable gardens.
Outside the village, we met low green graves, where those that had already weeded out and worked out were lying.
We came across a tree shattered by lightning.
We stumbled upon a herd of horses, each of which - even to Budyonny himself.
We also saw a priest in a long black robe. They looked after him and marveled that there were still some eccentric people left in the world.
Then we got worried when the sky darkened. Clouds came running from everywhere. They surrounded, caught and covered the sun. But it stubbornly burst out into one or the other hole. Finally it escaped and sparkled over the vast land even hotter and brighter.
Far behind was our gray house with a wooden roof.
And Maroussia must have returned a long time ago. Looked - no. I looked - I did not find it. Sits and waits, stupid!
- Dad! - finally said the tired Svetlana. - Let's sit with you somewhere and have something to eat.
We began to search and found such a clearing that not everyone will come across in the world.
Lush branches of wild hazel were thrown open before us with a noise. A young silvery tree stood with its point towards the sky. And in thousands, brighter than the flags on May Day - blue, red, blue, lilac - fragrant flowers surrounded the tree and stood motionless.
Even the birds did not sing over that clearing - it was so quiet.
Only the gray fool-crow thumped from the fly onto a branch, looked around that she had got to the wrong place, croaked in surprise: "Carr ... carr ..." - and immediately flew away to her filthy garbage pits.
- Sit down, Svetlana, guard the bag, and I'll go and fill a flask of water. Do not be afraid: there is only one animal living here - the long-eared hare.
“I’m not even afraid of a thousand birds with one stone,” Svetlana replied boldly, “but you should come as soon as possible.
The water was not close, and, returning, I was already worried about Svetlana.
But she was not frightened and did not cry, but sang.
I hid behind a bush and saw that the red-haired fat Svetlana stood in front of the flowers that rose to her shoulders, and sang with enthusiasm the following song just composed:
Gay! .. Gay! ..
We didn't break the blue cups.
No no!..
The field watchman walks in the field.
But we did not go into the garden for carrots.
And I didn’t climb, and he didn’t climb.
And Sanka once climbed into the garden.
Gay! .. Gay! ..
The Red Army is walking in the field.
(She came from the city.)
The Red Army is the reddest
And the white army is the whitest.
Tru-ru-ru! Tra-ta-ta!
These are the drummers
These are the pilots
These are the drummers who fly on airplanes.
And I, the drummer ... stand here.
Silently and solemnly, the tall flowers listened to this song and quietly nodded to Svetlana with their magnificent heads.
- Come to me, drummer!

I shouted, pushing aside the bushes. - There are cold water, red apples, white bread and yellow gingerbread. I don't mind anything for a good song.
Svetlana was a little embarrassed. She shook her head reproachfully and, just like Marusya, screwing up her eyes, said:
- He hid and eavesdrops. It's a shame, dear comrade!
Suddenly Svetlana became quiet and thoughtful.
And then, while we were eating, a gray siskin suddenly descended onto a branch and chirped something like that.
It was a brave siskin. He sat right in front of us, bouncing, chirping and not flying away.
“This is a familiar siskin,” Svetlana decided firmly. - I saw him when my mother and I were swinging in the garden on a swing. She rocked me high. Fyut! .. Fyut! .. And why did he come to us so far?
- No! No! I replied resolutely. - This is a completely different siskin. You are wrong, Svetlana. That siskin on its tail lacks the feathers that the owner's one-eyed cat ripped out for him. That siskin is fatter, and he chirps in a very different voice.
- No, that one! - Svetlana repeated stubbornly. - I know. It was he who flew so far behind us.
- Gay, gay! - I sang in a sad bass. “But we didn't break the blue cups. And we decided to go for good.
The gray siskin chirped angrily. Not a single flower out of a million swayed or nodded. And the frowning Svetlana sternly said:
- You have a different voice. And people don't sing like that. But only bears.
We gathered in silence. We left the grove. And here, luckily for me, a cool blue river sparkled under the mountain.
And then I raised Svetlana. And when she saw the sandy coast, the green islands, she forgot everything in the world and, happily clapping her hands, shouted:
- Bathe! Bathe! Bathe!
To shorten the path, we went straight to the river through damp meadows.
Soon we found ourselves in front of dense thickets of marsh bush. We did not want to return, and we decided to somehow make our way. But the further we went, the tighter the swamp tightened around us.
We circled through the swamp, turned right and left, climbed over flimsy perches, jumped from bump to bump. They got wet, smeared, but could not get out in any way.
And somewhere quite nearby, behind the bushes, a herd tossed and mooed, a shepherd snapped with a whip and a little dog barked angrily when it sensed us. But we saw nothing but rusty swamp water, rotten bushes and sedges.
Already anxiety appeared on the freckled face of the hushed Svetlanka. More and more often she turned around, looking into my face with a silent reproach: “What is this, folder? You are big, strong, but we are really bad! "
- Stay here and don't leave your place! - I ordered, putting Svetlana on a piece of dry land.
I wrapped myself in a thicket, but even in that direction there was only green goo intertwined with fat bog flowers.
I returned and saw that Svetlana was not standing at all, but carefully, holding onto the bushes, was making her way towards me.
- Stop where you put it! I said sharply.
Svetlana stopped. Her eyes blinked and her lips twitched.
- What are you shouting? - in a trembling voice she asked quietly. - I'm barefoot, and there are frogs - and I'm scared.
And I felt very sorry for Svetlanka, who got into trouble because of me.
- Here, take a stick, - I shouted, - and beat them, worthless frogs, on whatever! Just stand still! Let's get over now.
I turned again into a thicket and got angry. What is it? Is it possible to compare this filthy swamp with the endless reeds of the wide Dnieper region or with the gloomy floodplains of the Akhtyrka, where we once smashed and strangled the white Wrangel landing party!
From bump to bump, from bush to bush. Once - and waist-deep in water. Two - and dry aspen crunched. Following the aspen, a rotten log flew into the mud. A rotten stump plopped down hard. Here is the support. Here's another puddle. And here it is, a dry shore.
And, pushing the reed apart, I found myself next to a frightened goat that jumped up.
- Hey gay! Svetlana! I shouted. - You stand?
- Hey gay! - A plaintive thin voice came quietly from the thicket. - I'm a hundred-oh!
We made our way to the river. We cleaned off all the dirt and slime that covered us from all sides. We rinsed our clothes, and while they dried on the hot sand, we swam.
And all the fish rushed away in horror into their deep depths, when we whipped up the sparkling foamy waterfalls with laughter.
And the black mustachioed crayfish, which I pulled out of its underwater country, turning with my round eyes, scrambled and jumped in fear: it must have been the first time I saw such an unbearably bright sun and such an unbearably red-haired girl.
And then, having contrived, he angrily grabbed Svetlana's finger. With a cry, Svetlana threw him into the very middle of the goose herd. The stupid fat goslings scampered to the sides.
But an old gray goose came up from the side. He had seen many and more terrible in the world. He squinted his head, looked with one eye, pecked - then he, cancer, and death came.
... But here we bathed, dried up, dressed and moved on.
And again, we came across a lot of everyone along the way: people, horses, carts, cars, and even a gray beast - a hedgehog, which we took with us. Yes, only he soon pricked our hands, and we pushed him into the icy stream.
The hedgehog snorted and swam to the other side. “Here,” he thinks, “disgraceful! Now look for your hole from here. "
And we finally went out to the lake.
It was here that the farthest field of the "Rassvet" collective farm ended, and on the other side the lands of "Krasnaya Zarya" were already spread out.
Then we saw a log house at the edge of the forest and immediately guessed that the watchman's daughter Valentina and her son Fyodor lived here.
We approached the fence from the side from which the estate was guarded by tall, like soldiers, flowers - sunflowers.
Valentina herself stood on the porch in the garden. She was tall and broad-shouldered, like her father, a watchman. The collar of the blue sweater was thrown open. She held a floor brush in one hand and a wet rag in the other.
- Fedor! she shouted sternly. - Where are you, you scoundrel, touched the gray pan?
- In-on! - an important voice sounded from under the raspberries, and the fair-haired Fedor pointed to the puddle, where a saucepan, laden with wood chips and grass, was floating.
- And where, shameless, hid the sieve?
- In-on! - Fyodor answered in the same important way and pointed to a sieve pressed down by a stone, under which something was tossing and turning.
- Wait a minute, chieftain! .. Come home, I will smooth you with a wet rag,
- Valentina threatened and, seeing us, pulled her tucked up skirt.
- Hello! - I said. - Father sends you a bow.
- Thanks! - Valentina responded. - Go to the garden, relax.
We went through the gate and lay down under a ripe apple tree.
Fat son Fyodor wore only one shirt, and his wet trousers soiled with clay lay in the grass.
“I eat raspberries,” Fyodor told us seriously. - I ate two bushes. And I will still.
- Eat to your health, - I wished. - Just look, friend, do not burst.
Fyodor stopped, poked himself in the stomach with his fist, looked angrily at me and, grabbing his pants, waddled towards the house.
For a long time we lay in silence. It seemed to me that Svetlana fell asleep. I turned to her and saw that she was not sleeping at all, but, holding her breath, was looking at the silvery butterfly, which was quietly crawling along the sleeve of her pink dress.
And suddenly there was a powerful rumbling rumble, the air trembled, and the shiny plane, like a storm, rushed over the tops of the quiet apple trees.
Svetlana shuddered, a butterfly fluttered, a yellow rooster flew off the fence, a frightened jackdaw flashed across the sky with a cry - and everything was quiet.
- This is the same pilot who flew by, - Svetlana said with annoyance, - this is the one who came to us yesterday.
- Why is that? I asked, raising my head. - Maybe it's completely different.
- No, the same one. I myself heard yesterday how he told my mother that he was leaving tomorrow far and for good. I ate a red tomato, and my mother answered him: “Well, goodbye. Happy journey "...
- Folder, - sitting on my stomach, asked Svetlana, - tell me something about mom. Well, for example, how it was when I was not there yet.
- As it was? Yes, everything was the same. First day, then night, then day again, and another night ...
- And a thousand more days! - Svetlana interrupted impatiently. - Well, here you are and tell me what happened these days. You know yourself, but you pretend ...
- Okay, I'll tell you, only you get off me on the grass, otherwise it will be hard for me to tell. Well, listen! ..
Then our Marusa was seventeen years old. White attacked their town, they seized Marusya's father and put him in prison. And her mother was gone for a long time, and our Marusya was left all alone ...
- Something feels sorry for her, - moving closer, inserted Svetlana.
- Well, tell me further.
- Marusya threw a handkerchief and ran out into the street. And on the street, white soldiers lead both workers and women workers to the prison. And the bourgeois, of course, are happy with the white people, and everywhere in their houses lights are burning, music is playing. And our Marusa has nowhere to go, and there is no one to tell her about her grief ...
- Something is already quite a pity, - Svetlana interrupted impatiently. - You, folder, tell the red ones soon.
- Then Marusya went out of town. The moon was shining. The wind rustled. And a wide steppe stretched out in front of Marusya ...
- With wolves?
- No, no wolves. The wolves then hid from the shooting in the woods. And Marusya thought: “I'll run away across the steppe to the city of Belgorod. There is the Red Army of Comrade Voroshilov. He is said to be very brave. And if you ask, then maybe it will help. "
And that stupid Marusya did not know that the Red Army never expects to be asked for. And she herself rushes to help where the whites attacked. And already close to Marusya our Red Army detachments are advancing across the steppe. And each rifle is loaded with five rounds, and each machine gun is loaded with two hundred and fifty rounds.
Then I rode across the steppe with a military patrol. Suddenly, a shadow flashed across the hill. “Aha! - think. - Stop: white scout. You won't go anywhere further. "
I hit the horse with my spurs. I jumped over the hillock. I looked - what a miracle: there is no white scout, but some girl is standing under the moonlight. The face is not visible, and only the hair flutters in the wind.
I jumped off the horse, and hold the revolver in my hand just in case. I came up and asked: "Who are you and why are you running around the steppe at midnight?"
And the moon came out big, tremendous! The girl on my hat saw a Red Army star, hugged me and began to cry.
It was then that we met with her, with Marusya.
And in the morning we knocked the whites out of the city. The prisons were opened and the workers were released.
Here I am in the afternoon in the infirmary. My chest is a little shot. And my shoulder hurts: when I fell from a horse, I hit a stone.
My squadron commander comes to me and says:
“Well, goodbye, we go further after the whites. You are wearing good tobacco and paper as a gift from your comrades, lie still and get well soon. "
So the day has passed. Hello evening! And my chest hurts, and my shoulder hurts. And the heart is bored. It's boring, friend Svetlana, to be alone without comrades!
Suddenly the door opened, and quickly, noiselessly Marusya entered on her toes! And then I was so happy that I even screamed.
And Marusya came up, sat down next to me and put her hand on my very hot head and said:
“I was looking for you all day after the battle. Does it hurt you, dear? "
And I say:
“I don't give a damn that it hurts, Marusya. Why are you so pale? "
“You sleep,” answered Marusya. - Sleep tight. I will be near you all the days. "
It was then that Marusya and I met for the second time and since then we have always lived together.
- Folder, - Svetlana asked excitedly then. “We didn't really leave home, did we?” She loves us. We just walk around, walk around and come again.
- How do you know what he loves? Maybe he still loves you, but I'm no longer there.
- Oh, you're lying! - Svetlana shook her head. - I woke up last night, I look, my mother put down the book, turned to you and looks at you for a long time.
- Eco thing that looks! She even looks out the window, looks at all people! There are eyes, so he looks.
- Oh, No! - Svetlana objected with conviction. - When in the window, it looks completely different, but here's how ...
Then Svetlana raised her thin eyebrows, tilted her head to one side, pursed her lips and looked indifferently at the rooster passing by.
- And when they love, they do not look like that.
As if a radiance lit up Svetlanka's blue eyes, drooping eyelashes flinched, and a sweet, pensive Marusin's gaze fell on my face.
- Rogue!

Picking up Svetlana, I shouted. “How did you look at me yesterday when you spilled the ink?”
- Well, then you kicked me out the door, and the vykannye always look angrily.
We didn't break the blue cups. Perhaps Marusya herself somehow broke it. But we forgave her. You never know who will think bad things in vain? Once Svetlana also thought of me. Yes, I myself thought badly about Marusya too. And I went to the hostess Valentina to ask if there was a way closer to our house.
- Now my husband will go to the station, - said Valentina. - He will take you to the mill itself, and there it is already not far.
Returning to the garden, I met an embarrassed Svetlana at the porch.
“Dad,” she said in a mysterious whisper, “this son Fyodor has crawled out of raspberries and is pulling gingerbread from your bag.
We went to the apple tree, but the cunning son Fyodor, seeing us, hastily hid in the midst of the burdocks under the fence.
- Fedor! I called. - Come here, don't be afraid.
The tops of the burdocks swayed, and it was clear that Fyodor was resolutely moving away.
- Fedor! I repeated. - Go here. I'll give you all the gingerbread.
The burdocks stopped swaying, and soon a heavy puffing came from the thicket.
“I’m standing,” said an angry voice at last, “here without pants, everywhere nettles.
Then, like a giant over the forest, I strode over the burdocks, took out the stern Fyodor and poured all the remains from the sack in front of him.
He unhurriedly tucked everything into the hem of his shirt and, without even saying "thank you," went to the other end of the garden.
- Look how important, - Svetlana remarked disapprovingly, - he took off his pants and walks like a master!
A cart pulled by a couple drove up to the house. Valentina came out onto the porch:
- Get ready, the horses are good - they will drive quickly.
Fyodor appeared again. He was now in trousers and, walking quickly, was dragging a pretty smoky kitten by the collar. The kitten must have got used to such grips, because he did not struggle, did not meow, but only impatiently twisted his fluffy tail.
- On! - said Fedor and thrust the kitten into Svetlana.
- Absolutely? - Svetlana was delighted and looked at me hesitantly.
- Take it, take it if necessary, - suggested Valentina. - We have a lot of this stuff. Fedor! Why did you hide the gingerbread in cabbage beds? I saw everything through the window.
“Now I’ll go and hide it even further,” Fyodor reassured her and waddled away like an important clumsy bear cub.
- All in a grandfather, - Valentina smiled. - A sort of healthy. And only four years.
We drove along a wide, flat road. Evening was falling. Tired but cheerful people came to meet us from work.
A collective farm truck rumbled into the garage.
A war trumpet sang in the field.
A signal bell rang in the village.
A heavy-heavy steam locomotive began to hum behind the forest. Tuu! .. Tu! .. Spin, wheels, hurry up, wagons, railway, long, distant!
And, tightly clutching the fluffy kitten, happy Svetlana sang the following song to the sound of the cart:
Chiki-chiki!
Mice are walking.
They walk with their tails
Very angry.
They climb everywhere.
They climb onto the shelf.
Fuck-bangers!
And the cup flies.
Who's to blame?
Well, no one is to blame.
Only mice
From black holes.
- Hello, mice!
We returned.
And what is it
Do we carry with us? ..
It meows
It jumps
And drinks milk from a saucer.
Now get out
Into black holes
Or will it tear you apart
In pieces,
Ten pieces
Twenty pieces
One hundred million
Shaggy pieces.
Near the mill we jumped off the cart.
You could hear Pashka Bukamashkin, Sanka, Berta and someone else playing siskin outside the fence.
- Don't cheat! - the indignant Sanka shouted to Berta. - They spoke at me, and then they themselves stride.
- Someone is walking there again, - explained Svetlana, - they must now quarrel again. - And, sighing, she added: - Such a game!
With excitement we approached the house. It only remained to turn the corner and go upstairs.
Suddenly we looked at each other in confusion and stopped.
Neither the leaky fence nor the high porch could yet be seen, but the wooden roof of our gray house had already appeared, and our luxurious sparkling turntable was whirring above it with a merry buzz.
- It was the mother herself who climbed onto the roof! - Svetlana screamed and pulled me forward.
We went up the hill.
The orange rays of the evening sun lit up the porch. And on him, in a red dress, without a scarf and in sandals on bare feet, our Marusya stood and smiled.
- Laugh, laugh! - Svetlana, who ran up to her, allowed her. - We have forgiven you anyway.
I came up and looked Marusa in the face.
Marusya's eyes were brown, and they looked kindly. It was evident that she had been waiting for us for a long time, at last she had waited and now she was very happy.
“No,” I decided firmly, tossing away the scattered shards of a blue cup with the toe of my boot. - It's all just gray angry mice. And we didn't break. And Maroussia didn't break anything either. "
... And then there was evening. And the moon and the stars.
For a long time the three of us sat in the garden, under a ripe cherry, and Marusya told us where she was, what she did and what she saw.
And Svetlankin's story would have dragged on, probably until midnight, if Marusya had not caught herself and drove her to sleep.
- Well?! - taking the sleepy kitten with her, the sly Svetlanka asked me. - Is it really bad life now?
We also got up.
A golden moon shone over our garden.
A distant train roared to the north.
The midnight pilot hummed and disappeared into the clouds.
- And life, comrades ... was very good!

The story of A.P. Gaidar "Blue Cup" is included in

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