The mourning of Grigory Petrov, the spinner

Grigory Petrov, the spin-maker, who was a great craftsman and the most unproductive peasant in the Garching countryside, was now driving his sick companion to the hospital of the local self-government office on a sled. The road was about 30 miles long, and the road was so bad that even the official letter carrier had difficulty in dealing with it, and Grigori, the spinner, was a big lazy man. The wind was bitterly cold. In the air, no matter which way you look, everywhere is a dense layer of snow flying around. The snow is so big that you can't tell if it's falling from the sky or scraping up from the ground. In addition to the blanket of snow, you can not see the fields, poles, and woods. Whenever the strong cold wind came Grigori could not see the yoke in front of the car. The old, thin horse dragged the sled with great effort, step by step. All his energy was spent on pulling his legs out of the deep snow and pulling his head. The spinner was in a hurry to make his way. He often jumped up restlessly from the driver's seat and whipped the horse's back from time to time.

"You, Matryona, do not cry ......" he muttered in a low voice, "you bear it a little. God willing, we will get to the hospital. Then, in the twinkling of an eye, that disease of yours ...... Pavel Ivanetch will give you a potion to drink, or order someone to bleed you, or his old man will be pleased and rub your body with alcohol, and that backache of yours will be cured. Pavel Ivanych will try his best ...... he will yell for a while, stamping his feet hard, but he will try his best ...... what a good lord, treating people with kindness, asking God to bless him with good health ...... etc. When we arrived, he would immediately come running out of his consulting room, and then he would count all the time: 'What's going on? He would yell, 'Why are you here now? Why didn't you come on time? Am I a dog that has to hang around you guys all day? Why didn't you come in the morning? Go back, go back! Come back tomorrow!' Then I begged him: 'Master doctor! Pavel Ivanych! Good lord' Hey, take a step back, I told you to fret, wicked one! Heave!"

The spinster drew his lean horse, and without looking at his old companion, continued whispering to himself.

"'Master! I speak the truth, as to the face of God ...... I swear by the cross: before dawn, we are on the road. But how can we get there on time? Since the Lord ...... Mother of God ...... was angry and sent such a blizzard. Your old man also knows that even the best horse can not catch up, let alone my old horse. Your old man also saw: that's not a horse, that's a disgrace!' But Pavel Ivanych would frown and yell: 'I know you people. There's always a reason for it! Especially you, Grishka1! I already knew what you were like! I'm afraid I've been in five or six more taverns along the way! I answered him: 'Am I a villain or a heretic? The old woman is dying, and she is dying, so I don't have the heart to go to a tavern! What are you saying? Forgive me! To hell with the taverns! So Pavel Ivanovich ordered you to be carried to the hospital. So I knelt to him ...... and said to him: 'Pavel Ivanych! Master! We are very grateful to you! You must forgive us fools, bastards, and not be angry with us crafters! You should have thrown us out, but you're still worried about us, and your feet are covered with snow! Pavel Ivanetsch would glare at me as if he were going to hit me, saying: 'Instead of flopping down on your knees, fool, you should have taken a few glasses of white wine less often and had pity on your old woman. You should be beaten up!' 'That's right, you should beat me up, Pavel Ivanetsch just beat me up! Since you are our benefactor, dear father, how can we not kneel? My lord, I am telling the truth ...... like in the face of God ...... if I withdraw my lies, you will break my eyes: as soon as my Matryona, that is, this old woman, is cured and can run the house again, then whatever your old man orders me to do, I will do it for you! I will do everything for you! Small cigarette case, if you want, I can use Karelia stick wood ② make ...... and brown ball, and nine pillars of the play, I can spin the same as foreign goods ...... these things I do for you! I won't charge you a penny! If in Moscow, this small cigarette case can be sold for four rubles, but I do not want you a penny." The doctor will smile and say: 'Well, okay, okay ...... I appreciate it! It's a pity you're an alcoholic. ...... 'I, my old companion, know how to deal with the lords, and there's no lord I can't talk to for a while. Look at this snowstorm! It's got my eyes all misty."

The spinster just mumbled endlessly. He chattered faithfully, just to lighten his heavy heart a little. There were many words on his tongue, but there were more thoughts and questions in his head. Grief came upon the spinster suddenly and completely unexpectedly so that he could not now come to his senses, calm down, and think seriously about it. Before this, he had been living a carefree life, as in a drunken state of drowsiness, knowing neither grief nor joy, but now he suddenly felt a heavy heart, very painful. This carefree lazy man and drunkard unknowingly turned into another person, actually busy, preoccupied, anxious to hurry, and even against the snowstorm.

The spinster remembered that the misfortune began yesterday evening. Last night he came home, drunk as usual, and as usual, started cursing and waving the old fist again. The old woman took one look at her wrongdoer, and that look was like nothing he had ever seen before. In the past, her old eyes were filled with pain and meekness, like those of dogs that were often beaten and underfed, but now her eyes were stern and dull, like those of a saint on an icon or a dying man. The mourning began with these strange, ominous eyes. The stunned spinster hurriedly borrowed an old horse from a neighbor and immediately took the old woman to the hospital, hoping with all his heart that Pavel Ivanych would use some powder or ointment to make the old woman's eyes change back.

"You, Matryona, the ...... one," he muttered again in a low voice, "if Pavel Ivanych asks if I beat you, you say, 'Never! ' I will never hit you again. I swear to God on the cross! Besides, did I beat you because I was cruel by nature? There is no reason to hit you at will. My heart aches for you. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't be so sad, but I'm in a hurry to get you to the doctor ...... I'm doing my best. Look at the snow and the wind, it's huge! O God, be angry! I only ask you to protect us from getting lost ...... What, back pain? Matryona, why do you always refuse? I'm asking you: does your back still hurt?"

He felt strange, how the old woman's face snow does not melt. Strange, that face somehow looked particularly thin, gray and waxy, stern and stereotypical face.

"Alas, stupid woman!" The spinster muttered, "I am in good conscience with you, God is a witness ...... but you, that ...... ahem, what a stupid bitch! If you keep this up, I won't even send you to the hospital!"

The spinster put down the reins and hesitated. He did not dare to look back at the old woman: he was afraid! Asking her something and her not saying yes was equally frightening. Finally, to find out, he did not turn around, but only touched her hand. The hand was cold, pulled up, and dropped like a whip.

"So she's dead. Trouble!"

At this, the spinster cried. He did not only pity the old woman but also felt chagrin. He thought: How quickly things have changed in this world! His grief had just begun, how immediately there was an end. He had not yet had the chance to live a good life with the old woman, to show his love for her, to love her, and she was already dead. He had lived with her for forty years, but those forty years passed like in a fog. Drinking, fighting, and suffering from poverty did not live a good day. And, as if deliberately angry with him, just when he felt that he had to love the old woman, that he could not live without her, that he was sorry for her, the old woman died.

"Yes, and she often went to beg for food!" I sent her to ask for crusts of bread, the trouble! She, silly woman, should have lived another ten years, otherwise, I'm afraid she thought I was that kind of person. Holy Mother of God, what the hell am I heading for? No need to go to the doctor now, it's time to be buried. Go back!"

The spinner turned his horse around and pumped his horse hard. The road became more and more difficult to travel. Now, even the yoke of the cart was invisible. The sleigh sometimes hit a small machine tree, and black goo grazed his hand and flashed before his eyes. It became white again within sight, and the wind and snow swirled.

"It would be nice to live again from the beginning ......" thought the spinner.

He recalled that forty years ago Matryona was a young, beautiful, fastidious girl, born of a wealthy family. Parents married their daughter to him, coveting him to have good craftsmanship. He could have had a good life, but unfortunately, after the wedding, he was drunk and fell head first on the warm bed, and since then he has been in a daze, as if he had not sobered up until this moment. He remembered the wedding, but after the wedding, nothing happened - even if he beat him to death - except drinking, lying down, and beating his wife. Forty years have passed in this way.

The dense layers of snow gradually became gray. Dusk had come.

"Where am I headed?" The spinner suddenly woke up, it was time to bury her, but I went to the hospital,...... like getting stupid!"

The spin maker turned the sled again and pumped up the horse again. The old horse mustered up all his strength, sprayed his nose, and began to trot up. The spin maker pumped its back one after another ...... behind the sound of crashing, although he did not turn around, but also knew that it was the dead old woman's head hitting the sled. It became darker and darker, and the wind became colder and colder and harsher ......

"Just live from the beginning again ......" thought the spinner, "I'll add a new set of tools and take orders ...... to pay all the money to the old woman ...... Yes!"

Then he inadvertently lost the reins. He looked up and tried to pick up the reins, but he couldn't. He couldn't move his hands ......

"Forget it ......" he thought to himself, "the horse knows the way anyway, he will pull it home. I want to sleep now ...... before the burial, before the requiem sacrifice, it is best to rest."

The spinner closed his eyes and began to doze. Soon he heard the horse stand still. He opened his eyes and saw a pile of black paste in front of him, like a small wooden hut and a large haystack ......

He wanted to climb down from the sled and figure out what was going on, but his whole body was so lazy that he would rather freeze to death than move ...... so he fell asleep quietly.

When he woke up, he found that he was lying in a large room with four painted walls. Bright sunlight was streaming in through the window. The first thing he wanted to do was to show that he was a steady and knowledgeable man when the spinster saw that there were many people in front of the bed.

"Please come to the old woman's requiem service, folks!" He said, "And tell the proprietor a ......"

"Alas, forget it, forget it! You lie down!" Someone interrupted him.

"My God, it's Pavel Ivanych!" The spinster, surprised to see the doctor at his side, said, "O lord! O, benefactor!"

He wanted to jump out of bed and fling himself on his knees to the doctor but felt that his hands and feet were not at his disposal.

"Master! Where are my legs? Where is my arm?"

"Say goodbye to your arms and legs. ...... They are frozen! Alas, alas, what are you crying for, you have lived a lifetime, thank God! I'm afraid I've lived sixty years--and you've lived enough!"

"Grieved, my lord, I am grieved! I beg your forgiveness! If only I had lived that five or six years more ......"

"Why?"

"The horse is borrowed and must be returned ...... to the old woman to be buried ...... How things in this world have become so fast! My lord! Pavel Ivanych! Karelia squeezed wood cigarette case has not been made yet, croquet has not been made ......"

With a wave of his hand, the doctor walked out of the ward. This spinner - is sort of finished.