Gutta-percha boy. "Gutta-percha boy Sad story about an orphan boy
Gutta-percha boy: stories of Russian writers for children
Dmitry Vasilievich Grigorovich
Gutta-percha boy
“... When I was born, I cried; subsequently, every day lived explained to me why I cried when I was born ... "
IBlizzard! Blizzard!! And how suddenly! How unexpected!!! Until then, the weather had been fine. It was a little cold at noon; the sun, dazzlingly sparkling on the snow and making everyone squint, added to the gaiety and variegation of the St. Petersburg street population, celebrating the fifth day of Maslenitsa. This went on until almost three o'clock, until the beginning of twilight, and suddenly a cloud swept in, the wind rose, and the snow fell with such density that in the first minutes it was impossible to make out anything on the street.
The hustle and bustle was especially felt in the square opposite the circus. The audience, leaving after the morning performance, could hardly make their way in the crowd that poured from the Tsaritsa to the Meadows, where there were booths. People, horses, sleighs, carriages - everything was mixed up. In the midst of the noise, impatient exclamations were heard from all over, displeased, grumbling remarks of faces caught unawares by a snowstorm were heard. There were even those who immediately became seriously angry and scolded her well.
Among the latter one should first of all rank the managers of the circus. Indeed, if we take into account the upcoming evening performance and the expected audience, a blizzard could easily damage the case. Maslenitsa undeniably has the mysterious power to awaken in the soul of a person a sense of duty to eat pancakes, indulge in entertainment and spectacles of all kinds; but, on the other hand, it is also known from experience that the sense of duty can sometimes give in and weaken from causes incomparably less worthy than a change in the weather. Be that as it may, a blizzard staggered the success of the evening's performance; even some fears were born that if the weather did not improve by eight o'clock, the circus box office would suffer significantly.
So or almost so the director of the circus reasoned, seeing off the audience, huddled at the exit. When the doors to the square were locked, he made his way through the hall to the stables.
In the hall of the circus, they had already put out the gas. Passing between the barrier and the first row of chairs, the director could distinguish through the darkness only the circus arena, indicated by a round cloudy yellowish spot; the rest was all: the empty rows of chairs, the amphitheater, the upper galleries - went into darkness, in places blackening indefinitely, in places disappearing in a foggy darkness, strongly saturated with the sweet and sour smell of the stables, ammonia, damp sand and sawdust. Under the dome, the air was already thickening so much that it was difficult to distinguish the outline of the upper windows; darkened from the outside by a cloudy sky, half covered with snow, they peered inward, as if through jelly, giving enough light to give even more twilight to the lower part of the circus. In all this vast dark space, the light passed sharply only in a golden longitudinal strip between the halves of the drapery, which fell under the orchestra; it beamed into the thick air, disappeared, and reappeared at the opposite end at the exit, playing on the gilding and crimson velvet of the middle box.
Behind the drapery, which let in the light, voices were heard, the tramp of horses was heard; they were joined from time to time by the impatient barking of learned dogs, which were locked up as soon as the performance was over. It now concentrated the life of the noisy staff who had animated the circus arena half an hour earlier during the morning performance. Only gas was now burning there, illuminating the brick walls, hastily whitewashed with lime. At the base of them, along the rounded corridors, stacked decorations, painted barriers and stools, ladders, stretchers with mattresses and carpets, bundles of colored flags were piled up; by the light of the gas, hoops hung on the walls, intertwined with bright paper flowers or pasted over with thin Chinese paper, were clearly outlined; a long gilded pole gleamed nearby, and a blue curtain embroidered with sequins stood out, which adorned the support during the dance on the rope. In a word, there were all those objects and devices that instantly transfer the imagination to people flying in space, women vigorously jumping into a hoop in order to again get their feet on the back of a galloping horse, children tumbling in the air or hanging on their socks under dome.
- 1.5 hBehind the scenes of the circus, artists are crowding, the people are cheerful and careless. Among them stands out a not too young bald man, whose face is heavily painted in white and red. This is Edwards the Clown, entering a "period of longing" followed by a period of heavy drinking. Edwards is the main decoration of the circus, his bait, but the clown's behavior is unreliable, on any day he can break loose and drink.
The director asks Edwards to hold out for at least two more days, until the end of Shrove Tuesday, and then the circus will close for the duration of Lent.
The clown gets off with meaningless words and looks into the dressing room of the acrobat Becker, a rough muscular giant.
Edwards is not interested in Becker, but in his pet, the "gutta-percha boy", an acrobat's assistant. The clown asks for permission to take a walk with him, proving to Becker that after rest and entertainment, the little artist will work better. Always annoyed by something, Becker does not want to hear about it. And without that, a quiet and mute boy, he threatens with a whip.
The story of the "gutta-percha boy" was simple and sad. He lost his mother, an eccentric and overly loving cook, in the fifth year of his life. And with his mother, sometimes he had to starve and freeze, but he still did not feel lonely.
After the death of her mother, her compatriot, the washerwoman Varvara, arranged the fate of the orphan, identifying him as an apprentice to Becker. At the first meeting with Petya, Karl Bogdanovich roughly and painfully felt the boy stripped naked, frozen in pain and horror. No matter how much he cried, no matter how he clung to the hem of the laundress, Varvara gave him full possession of the acrobat.
Petya's first impressions of the circus, with its diversity and noise, were so strong that he cried out all night and woke up several times.
The teaching of acrobatic tricks was not easy for the frail boy. He fell, hurt himself, and not once did the stern giant encourage Petya, did not caress him, and yet the child was only eight years old. Only Edwards showed him how to perform this or that exercise, and Petya was drawn to him with all his heart.
Once a clown gave Petya a puppy, but the boy's happiness was short-lived. Becker grabbed the dog against the wall, and she immediately expired. At the same time, Petya also earned a slap in the face. In a word, Petya was "not so much a gutta-percha as an unhappy boy."
And in the children's rooms of Count Listomirov, a completely different atmosphere reigns. Everything here is adapted for the convenience and fun of children, whose health and mood are carefully monitored by a governess.
On one of the last days of Shrovetide, the count's children were especially lively. Still would! Aunt Sonya, their mother's sister, promised to take them to the circus on Friday.
Eight-year-old Verochka, six-year-old Zina, and a five-year-old chubby butuz nicknamed Paf are doing their best to earn the promised entertainment by exemplary behavior, but they cannot think of anything other than the circus. Gramoteika Verochka reads a circus poster to her sister and brother, in which they are especially intrigued by the gutta-percha boy. Time goes by very slowly for children.
Finally, the long-awaited Friday arrives. And now all the worries and fears are behind us. Children take their seats long before the show starts. They are all interested. With genuine delight, children look at the rider, the juggler and the clowns, looking forward to meeting the gutta-percha boy.
The second section of the program begins with the release of Becker and Petit. The acrobat attaches a heavy gilded pole to his belt with a small crossbar at the top. The end of the pole rushes under the very dome. The pole oscillates, the audience sees with what difficulty the giant Becker holds it.
Petya climbs up the pole, now he is almost invisible. The audience applauds and starts yelling that the dangerous number should be stopped. But the boy must still cling to the crossbar with his feet and hang upside down.
He performs this part of the trick, when suddenly "something flashed and spun at the same second a dull sound was heard of something falling into the arena."
Ministers and artists pick up a small body and quickly carry it away. The orchestra plays a cheerful motive, clowns run out, tumbling...
The frustrated audience begins to crowd to the exits. Vera hysterically screams and sobs: “Ay, boy! boy!"
At home, children can hardly be calmed and put to bed. At night, Aunt Sonya looks in on Verochka and sees that her sleep is restless, and a tear has dried on her cheek.
And in a dark deserted circus on a mattress lies a child tied with rags with broken ribs and a broken chest.
From time to time, Edwards emerges from the darkness and leans over the little acrobat. It is felt that the clown has already entered a period of hard drinking, not without reason that an almost empty decanter is seen on the table.
Everything around is plunged into darkness and silence. The next morning, the number of the “gutta-percha boy” was not indicated on the poster - he was no longer in the world.
Gutta-percha boy
Behind the scenes of the circus, artists are crowding, the people are cheerful and careless. Among them stands out a not too young bald man, whose face is heavily painted in white and red. This is Edwards the clown, entering a "period of boredom" followed by a period of heavy drinking. Edwards is the main decoration of the circus, his bait, but the behavior of the clown is unreliable, on any day he can break loose and drink.
The director asks Edwards to hold out for at least two more days, until the end of Shrove Tuesday, and then the circus will be closed for Lent.
The clown gets off with meaningless words and looks into the dressing room of the acrobat Becker, a rough muscular giant.
Edwards is not interested in Becker, but in his pet, a "gutta-percha boy", an assistant to an acrobat. The clown asks for permission to take a walk with him, proving to Becker that after rest and entertainment, the little artist will work better. Becker is always irritated by something and does not want to hear about it. And without that, a quiet and mute boy, he threatens with a whip.
The story of the "gutta-percha boy" was simple and sad. He lost his mother, an eccentric and overly loving cook, in the fifth year of his life. And with his mother, sometimes he had to starve and freeze, but he still did not feel lonely.
After the death of her mother, her compatriot, the washerwoman Varvara, arranged the fate of the orphan, identifying him as an apprentice to Becker. At the first meeting with Petya, Karl Bogdanovich roughly and painfully felt the boy stripped naked, frozen in pain and horror. No matter how much he cried, no matter how he clung to the hem of the laundress, Varvara gave him full possession of the acrobat.
Petya's first impressions of the circus, with its diversity and noise, were so strong that he cried out all night and woke up several times.
The teaching of acrobatic tricks was not easy for the frail boy. He fell, hurt himself, and not once did the stern giant cheer up Petya, caress him, and after all, the child was only eight years old. Only Edwards showed him how to perform this or that exercise, and Petya was drawn to him with all his heart.
Once a clown gave Petya a puppy, but the boy's happiness was short-lived. Becker grabbed the dog against the wall, and she immediately expired. At the same time, Petya also earned a slap in the face. In a word, Petya was "not so much a gutta-percha as an unhappy boy."
And in the children's rooms of Count Listomirov, a completely different atmosphere reigns. Everything here is adapted for the convenience and fun of children, whose health and mood are carefully monitored by a governess.
On one of the last days of Shrovetide, the count's children were especially lively. Still would! Aunt Sonya, their mother's sister, promised to take them to the circus on Friday.
Eight-year-old Verochka, six-year-old Zina, and a five-year-old chubby butuz nicknamed Paf are doing their best to earn the promised entertainment by exemplary behavior, but they cannot think of anything other than the circus. Gramoteika Verochka reads a circus poster to her sister and brother, in which they are especially intrigued by the gutta-percha boy. Time goes by very slowly for children.
Finally, the long-awaited Friday arrives. And now all the worries and fears are behind us. Children take their seats long before the show starts. They are all interested. With genuine delight, children look at the rider, the juggler and the clowns, looking forward to meeting the gutta-percha boy.
The second section of the program begins with the release of Becker and Petit. The acrobat fastens a heavy gilded pole with a small crossbar at the top to his belt. The end of the pole rushes under the very dome. The pole oscillates, the audience sees with what difficulty the giant Becker holds it.
Petya climbs up the pole, now he is almost invisible. The audience applauds and starts yelling that the dangerous number should be stopped. But the boy must still cling to the crossbar with his feet and hang upside down.
He performs this part of the trick, when suddenly "something flashed and spun<...>At the same moment, a dull sound was heard of something falling into the arena.
Ministers and artists pick up a small body and quickly carry it away. The orchestra plays a cheerful motive, clowns run out, somersaulting ...
The frustrated audience begins to crowd to the exits. Vera hysterically screams and sobs: "Ay, boy! boy!"
At home, children can hardly be calmed and put to bed. At night, Aunt Sonya looks in on Verochka and sees that her sleep is restless, and a tear has dried on her cheek.
And in a dark deserted circus on a mattress lies a child tied with rags with broken ribs and a broken chest.
From time to time, Edwards appears from the darkness and leans over the little acrobat. It is felt that the clown has already entered a period of hard drinking, not without reason that an almost empty decanter is seen on the table.
Everything around is plunged into darkness and silence. The next morning, the number of the "gutta-percha boy" was not indicated on the poster - he was no longer in the world.
Children's rooms in the house of Count Listomirov were located on the south side and overlooked the garden. It was a wonderful room! Every time the sun was in the sky, its rays from morning to sunset passed through the windows; at the bottom, only part of the windows were hung with blue taffeta curtains to protect children's eyesight from excessive light. For the same purpose, a blue-colored carpet was also spread out in all the rooms, and the walls were pasted over with not too light wallpaper.
In one of the rooms, the entire lower part of the walls was literally filled with toys; they were grouped all the more varied and picturesque, because each of the children had his own separate section.
Colorful English colored notebooks and books, beds with dolls, pictures, chests of drawers, small kitchens, porcelain services, lambs and dogs on reels - denoted the possessions of girls; tables with tin soldiers, a cardboard troika of gray horses, with terribly bulging eyes, hung with bells and harnessed to a carriage, a large white goat, a Cossack on horseback, a drum and a copper trumpet, the sounds of which always drove the Englishwoman Miss Blix to despair - denoted the possessions of the male sex. This room was called the “playing room”.
There was a training room nearby; beyond the bedroom, the windows of which were always covered with curtains, which rose only where the ventilation star spun to purify the air. From it, without exposing oneself to a sharp change in the air, one could go straight to the lavatory, which was also lined with a carpet, but sheathed in its lower part with oilcloth; on one side was a large marble washstand set with large English faience; further on, two bathtubs shone with whiteness, with brass taps depicting swan heads; beside it rose a Dutch oven with a tiled cupboard constantly filled with warming towels. Closer, along the oilcloth wall, hung on ribbons a whole row of small and large sponges, with which Miss Blix washed the children from head to toe every morning and evening, bringing redness to their delicate bodies.
On Wednesday, at Shrove Tuesday, the games room was especially fun. She was filled with the ecstatic cries of children. There is no wise man; this is what was said here, by the way: “Children, from the very beginning of Shrove Tuesday you were obedient and sweet; today we have Wednesday; if you continue like this, you will be taken to the circus on Friday night!”
These words were uttered by Aunt Sonya, the sister of Countess Listomirova, a girl of about thirty-five, a strong brunette, with a penetrating mustache, but beautiful oriental eyes, of extraordinary kindness and gentleness; she constantly wore a black dress, thinking that this would at least somehow hide the fullness, which was beginning to bother her. Aunt Sonya lived with her sister and dedicated her life to her children, whom she loved with all her stock of feelings, which had no chance to be used up and accumulated in abundance in her heart.
Before she had time to utter her promise, the children, who at first listened very attentively, rushed to besiege her with all their might; some clung to her dress, some tried to get on her knees, some managed to wrap their arms around her neck and showered kisses on her face; the siege was accompanied by such noisy applause, such shouts of joy, that Miss Blix entered through one door, a young Swiss woman, invited into the house as a music teacher for her eldest daughter, ran in through the other; behind them appeared a nurse holding a newborn, wrapped in a blanket with lace trimmings falling to the floor.
- What is going on here? .. - Miss Blix asked in surprise.
She was a prim, tall lady with an exorbitantly protruding breast, red cheeks, as if dripped with sealing wax, and a beet red neck.
Aunt Sonya explained to those who entered the reason for their joy.
There were again exclamations, again shouts, accompanied by leaps, pirouettes, and other more or less expressive expressions of joy. In this outburst of childish gaiety, Paf, a five-year-old boy, the only male branch of the Listomirov family, surprised everyone the most; the boy was always so heavy and apathetic, but here, under the impression of stories and what? he was expected at the circus, - he suddenly threw himself on all fours, raised his left leg and, terribly twisting his tongue on his cheek, looking at those present with his Kirghiz eyes, - began to portray a clown.
- Miss Blix! - lift him up, lift him up quickly - blood will rush to his head! said Aunt Sonya.
New screams, new galloping around Paf, who would not get up for anything and stubbornly raised first one leg, then the other.
“Children, children… enough!” You don't seem to want to be smart anymore... You don't want to listen," said Aunt Sonya, who was annoyed mainly because she did not know how to be angry. Well, she couldn't do it - she couldn't - she definitely couldn't!
She adored "her children," as she put it. Indeed, I must say, the children were very sweet.
The eldest girl, Verochka, was already eight years old; six-year-old Zina followed her; the boy was, as said, five years old. He was christened Paul; but the boy received one after another various nicknames: Baby, Bubble, Butuz, Bulka and, finally, Paf - a name that has remained. The boy was plump, short, with a loose white body, like sour cream, of an extremely phlegmatic, imperturbable disposition, with a spherical head and a round face, on which the only noticeable feature was small Kirghiz eyes, which opened completely when food was served or food was spoken of. Her eyes, which looked generally drowsy, also showed animation and anxiety in the mornings and evenings, when Miss Blix took Puff by the hand, led him to the dressing room, stripped him naked and, putting him on an oilcloth, began to vigorously wash him with a huge sponge, richly saturated with water; when Miss Blix, at the end of such an operation, placed a sponge on the boy's head and, pressing the sponge firmly, sent streams of water over the body, which immediately turned from white to pink, Puff's eyes not only narrowed, but let the streams of tears pass, and at the same time came from his chest was a thin, thin squeak, which had nothing irritated, but rather resembled the squeak of dolls that are forced to scream by pressing their stomachs. With this innocent squeak, however, everything ended. With the disappearance of the sponge, Puff fell silent instantly, and only then Miss Blix could wipe him down with a warm, rough towel as she liked, she could wrap his head around him, she could crush and pull him - Puff showed as little resistance as a piece of rich dough in the hands of a baker. He often even fell asleep between warm, rough towels before Miss Blix had time to tuck him into bed, wrapped around the net and hung with a muslin canopy with a blue bow on top.
It cannot be said that this boy was particularly interesting; but it was impossible not to stop at him, since he now represented the only male branch of the surname of the Counts Listomirovs and, as his father rightly sometimes remarked, looking thoughtfully into the distance and hanging his head melancholy to one side: “Could, - who knows? – could play a prominent role in the fatherland in the future!?”
It is generally difficult to predict the future, but be that as it may, from the moment the circus performance was promised, the eldest daughter, Verochka, became all attentive and vigilantly followed the behavior of her sister and brother.
There was hardly a sign of discord between them - she quickly ran up to them, looking at the stately Miss Blix at the same time, began to quickly whisper something to Zizi and Pafa and, kissing one or the other in turn, always managed to set peace and harmony between them.
This Verochka was in all respects a charming girl: thin, delicate, and at the same time fresh, like a freshly laid testicle, with blue veins on her temples and neck, with a slight blush on her cheeks, and large grey-blue eyes looking out from under long eyelashes. somehow always directly, attentively beyond his years; but Verochka's best ornament was her ashy hair, soft as the finest silk, and so thick that Miss Blix struggled a long time in the morning before she could straighten it. Paf could, of course, be the favorite of his father and mother, as the future only representative of an eminent family - but Verochka, one might say, was the favorite of all relatives, friends, and even servants; in addition to her good looks, she was loved for her unusual meekness of disposition, the rare absence of whims, friendliness, kindness, and some special sensitivity and understanding. For another four years, she entered the drawing room with the most serious look and, no matter how many strangers there were, she walked straight and cheerfully to everyone, offered her hand and turned her cheek. She was even treated differently than other children. Contrary to the long-accepted custom in the family of Counts Listomirovs to give various abbreviated and more or less fantastic nicknames to children, Verochka was not called otherwise than by her real name. Verochka was - Verochka and remained.
What can I say, she, like every mortal, had her weaknesses, or rather, there was one weakness; but even she, as it were, rather served as a harmonious addition to her character and appearance. Verochka's weakness, which consisted in composing fables and fairy tales, manifested itself for the first time, as she passed her sixth year. Entering the drawing room one day, she unexpectedly announced in front of everyone that she had composed a little fable, and immediately, not in the least embarrassed, with the most convinced look, she began to tell the story about the wolf and the boy, making obvious efforts to make some words come out in rhyme. Since then, one fable has replaced another, and, despite the prohibition of the count and countess to excite the imagination of an already impressionable and nervous girl with stories of fairy tales, Verochka continued to make her improvisations. Miss Blix had to get out of bed more than once at night when she heard some strange whisper coming from under the muslin canopy over Verochka's bed. Convinced that the girl, instead of sleeping, was uttering some incomprehensible words, the Englishwoman reprimanded her severely, ordering her to fall asleep immediately, an order that Verochka immediately carried out with her usual meekness.
In a word, this was the same Verochka who, once running into the living room and finding our famous poet Tyutchev sitting there with his mother, would never agree that this gray-haired old man could compose poetry; in vain assured the mother and Tyutchev himself, - Verochka stood her ground; looking incredulously at the old man with her large blue eyes, she repeated:
- No, mom, it can't be! ..
Noticing at last that her mother was beginning to get angry, Verochka looked timidly into her face and said through her tears:
- I thought, mother, that only angels compose poetry ...
From Wednesday, when the performance at the circus was promised, until Thursday, thanks to Verochka's gentle solicitude, her ability to entertain her sister and brother, both behaved in the most exemplary manner. It was especially difficult to cope with Zizi, a sickly girl, drugged, among which cod fat played a prominent role and always served as a pretext for hysterical sobs and whims.
On Shrove Tuesday, Aunt Sonya entered the playroom. She announced that since the children were smart, she wanted to buy toys for them on her way to town.
Joyful exclamations and ringing kisses filled the room again. Paf also perked up and blinked his Kirghiz eyes.
“Well, all right, all right,” said Aunt Sonya, “everything will be your way: you, Verochka, work box, you know, dad and mom don’t allow you to read books; you, Zizi, a doll...
- Which would scream! Zizi exclaimed.
- Which would scream! repeated Aunt Sonya, “well, what about you, Paf, what do you think? What do you want?..
Puff thought.
- Well, tell me what to buy? ..
- Buy ... buy a dog - only without fleas! .. - Puff added unexpectedly.
Unanimous laughter was the answer to such a desire. Aunt Sonya laughed, the nurse laughed, even the prim Miss Blix laughed, who turned, however, at once to Zizi and Verochka, who began to jump around their brother and, bursting with laughter, began to stir up the future representative of the family.
After that, everyone again hung on the good aunt's neck and kissed her neck and cheeks red-hot.
“Well, that’s enough, that’s enough,” my aunt said with a gentle smile, “it’s good; I know that you love me; and I love you very ... very ... very much! .. So, Paf, I will buy you a dog: be only smart and obedient; she'll be flea-free!
