"Valentin Katayev. A White Sail Gleams (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

what may.
Meanwhile Father and Pavlik, obviously unaware of the danger, occupied
themselves with the cantaloupes.
In a pillow-case of plain linen that was faded from numerous
launderings and had a little bouquet of flowers embroidered in each corner,
lay ten cantaloupes, bought at a kopeck each. Father took out a firm
greyish-green one covered with a close network of lines, and saying, "Well,
now we shall try these famous cantaloupes", neatly sliced it lengthwise and
opened it like a book. A wonderful fragrance filled the coach.
He cut round the soft insides with his penknife and flipped them out
the window. Then he divided the cantaloupe into thin, appetising slices.
"Looks quite toothsome," he remarked as he laid out the slices on a clean
handkerchief.
Pavlik, who had been fidgeting impatiently all the while, pounced on
the biggest slice with both hands and sank into it up to his ears. He ate
with gurgling sounds of delight; cloudy drops of juice hung from his chin.
Father, on the other hand, put a small slice into his mouth, tried it,
closed his eyes, and said, "Indeed an excellent cantaloupe."
"Yum-yum," Pavlik confirmed.
Here Petya, behind whose back all these unendurable things had been
taking place, could hold out no longer. Forgetting the danger, he threw
himself upon the cantaloupe.


5

THE RUNAWAY

About ten miles from Akkerman the vineyards began. The cantaloupe had
been eaten long ago and the rind thrown out of the window. The trip was
growing tedious. It would soon be midday.
The fresh morning breeze, which had served as a reminder that autumn
really was in the offing, had subsided completely. The sun beat down as in
the middle of July; its rays were somehow even hotter, drier, broader.
Sand lay nearly all of two feet deep in the road, and the horses
laboured to pull the heavy coach through it. The small front wheels sank in
the sand up to the hub. The large rear wheels wobbled along slowly,
crunching the blue seashells in the sand.
A choking cloud of dust as fine as flour enveloped the travellers.
Their eyebrows and eye-lashes turned grey. The dust gritted between their
teeth. Pavlik goggled his mirror-like, light-chocolate eyes and sneezed
desperately.
The driver turned into a miller.
All about them the vineyards stretched endlessly.
The earth, dry and grey from dust, was covered with the gnarled plaits
of old vines standing in strict chessboard pattern. They looked as if they
were twisted by rheumatism. Had not Nature bethought herself to decorate
them with those wonderful leaves of antique design they might have looked
ugly, repulsive even.
In the rays of the midday sun the leaves, with their jagged edges,