"Valentin Katayev. The Cottage in the Steppe (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Petya was breathing on the window-pane and etching with his finger the
words, "Dear sir, Dear sir."
It turned out that the messenger had been from the office of the
Education Department and had nothing to do with the gymnasium at all. He had
delivered a message to Councillor Bachei, requesting him to appear the
following day "to explain the circumstances which prompted him to deliver an
unauthorized speech to his students on the occasion of Count Tolstoi's
death."
When Vasily Petrovich returned from the Education Department next day,
he sat down in the rocker in his frock-coat and folded his arms behind his
head. The moment Petya saw his pale forehead and trembling jaw, he knew
something terrible had happened.
Father was reclining on the wicker back of the chair and rocking
nervously, shoving off with the toe of his squeaking shoe.
"Vasily Petrovich, for God's sake, tell me what happened," Auntie said
finally, her kind eyes wide with fright.
"Please, leave me alone!" Father said with an effort, and his jaw
twitched more violently.
His pince-nez had slid down, and Petya saw two tiny pink dents on the
bridge of his nose which gave his face the appearance of helpless suffering.
The boy recalled that he had had this same look when Mother had died and lay
in a white coffin covered with hyacinths; then, too, Father had rocked back
and forth nervously, arms folded behind his head, his eyes filled with
tears. Petya walked over to Father, put his arms around his shoulders, which
bore faint traces of dandruff, and hugged him.
"Daddy, don't!" he said gently.
Father shook the boy's arms off, jumped up, and gesticulated so
violently that his starched cuffs popped out with a snap.
"In the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ-leave me alone!" he shouted in an
agonized voice and fled into the room that was both his study and bedroom
and the boys' room as well.
He divested himself of jacket and shoes, lay down and turned his face
to the wall.
At the sight of Father lying huddled up, of his white socks and the
blue steel buckle on the crumpled back of his waistcoat, Petya broke down
and began to cry, wiping his tears on his sleeve.
What actually had taken place at the Education Department? To begin
with, Vasily Petrovich had spent a long and uncomfortable time sitting alone
in the cold, officially sumptuous waiting-room on a gilded blue velvet chair
of the kind usually seen in museums or theatre lobbies. Then a dandified
official in the uniform of the Ministry of Education appeared, his figure
reflected in the parquet floor, and informed Vasily Petrovich that His
Excellency would see him.
His Excellency was sitting behind an enormous writing-desk. He was
hunchbacked and, like most hunchbacks, was very short, so that nothing could
be seen of him above the massive malachite desk set with two bronze
malachite candelabra, except a proud, malicious head, iron grey land
closely-cropped, propped up by a high starched collar and white tie. He was
wearing his formal civil service dress-coat with decorations.
"Why did you take the liberty of appearing here without your uniform?"