4 May 1825 g. I made an officer, 6-th was ordered to go to the regiment in the town Vasilkov, 9-first left St. Petersburg.
Давно ли я был еще кадетом? how long they have woken me 6 am, for a long time I kept telling German lesson when the eternal noise of the housing? Now I Ensign, I have in the bag 475 g., I do what I want, and jumping on the chaise in the town Vasilkov, where I will sleep until the Eighth hours and which has never molvlyu a single German word.
В ушах моих всё еще отзывает шум и крики играющих кадетов и однообразное жужжание прилежных учеников, repeating vocables - le bluet, le bluet, Vasileko, amarante, Amaranth, amarante, amarante ... Now yes trolley knock bell alone break the silence of the neighborhood ... I still can not get used to the silence.
При мысли о моей свободе, the pleasures and adventures of the way, I waiting, feeling of unspeakable joy, verging on ecstasy, It filled my soul. Calm down little by little,, I watched the movement of the front wheels and doing mathematical calculations. Insensitive way this occupation me tired, and the journey has seemed to me not so pleasant, as the first.
Having arrived at the station, I gave the superintendent a curved roadside and demanded more horses. But with an inexplicable dissatisfaction I heard, that no horses; I looked in the mail book: from the city * with a future official traveling to St. Petersburg sixth grade * I took twelve horses, генеральша Б. – восемь, two triples went with almost, the other two horses took our brother ensign. At the station there was a courier troika, and the caretaker could not give it to me. If by any chance naskachet courier or courier and finds horses, then what happened to him then it will be, trouble - he may lose the place, to the world. I tried to bribe him with a conscience, but he remained steadfast and firmly rejected my dvugrivennik. Nothing to do! I surrendered to necessity.
«Угодно ли чаю или кофею», – спросил меня смотритель. I thanked and take up the pictures, adorned his humble abode. They depicted the story of the prodigal son. The first venerable old man in a nightcap and dressing-gown to a restless youth, which quickly takes his blessing and a bag of money. The other striking features shown bad behavior lecherous young man: he sits at the table, surrounded by false friends and shameless women; further ruined youth in the French coat and three-cornered hat herding pigs and shared a meal with them. deep sorrow and repentance shown in his face, he remembers about his father's house, где последний раб* и т. d. Finally presents the return him to his father. Good old man in the same nightcap and dressing-gown runs out to meet him. The prodigal son kneels, away chef kills the fatted calf, and older brother angrily asks about the reason for such joy. Under the pictures printed German poems. I read them with pleasure, and copied, to translate at leisure.
Прочие картины не имеют рам и прибиты к стене гвоздиками. They depict a cat funeral, spore red nose with a strong frost and the like, – и в нравственном, as art, respect are not worth the attention of an educated man.
Я сел под окно. mean nothing. Close a number of repetitive huts, leaning against one another. Here and there are two or three apple, two or three rowan, surrounded by a thin wall, unharnessed the cart with my suitcase and pogrebtsom.
День жаркий. coachmen dispersed. Outdoors play in the golden-haired grandmother, mess kids. Against me, an old woman sits in front of izboyu podgoryunivshis. Occasionally cocks crow. Dog lying in the sun or wander, tongue hanging out and his tail, Yes piglets squealing run out from under the gate and rushing to the side for no apparent reason.
what a bore! I go for a walk in a field. collapsed well. About it - small puddle. It frolic little yellow ducklings under the supervision of a silly duck, like spoiled children when Madame.
Я пошел по большой дороге – справа тощий озимь, left the bush and swamp. Around the flat space. Towards one mile striped. In heaven, the sun slowly, here and there a cloud. what a bore! I go back, doshed to the third mile and make sure, that the next station was still twenty-two.
returning, I tried to make it with my coachman, but he, like avoiding a decent conversation, to answer some of my questions: "We can not know, Your Honor ", "And God knows", "And not that ..."
Я сел опять под окном и спросил у толстой работницы, which was running past me constantly in the back porch, in the closet, – нет ли чего-нибудь почитать. She brought me some books. I was delighted and ran greedily their disassemble. But once I calmed down, see well-worn alphabet and arithmetic, published for public schools. son of the caretaker, rowdy nine years, I trained them, as she spoke, all the learning, stubbornly tearing sheets learned by rote, for which according to the law of natural retribution Dir his hair.
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