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

with pity for his father.
Vasily Petrovich came in and put down two stacks of tightly bound
exercise books on the table. Before changing into the old jacket he wore
about the house, he took a handkerchief from the back pocket of his
frock-coat with its frayed silk lapels and wiped his wet face and beard
thoroughly. Then he jerked his head decisively.
"Come on, boys, wash your hands and we'll eat!"
Petya sensed his father's mood. He realized that Vasily Petrovich was
taking Tolstoi's death badly, that for him Tolstoi was not only an adored
writer, he was much more than that, almost the moral centre of his life. All
this he felt keenly, but could not put his feelings into words.
Petya had always responded quickly to his father's moods, and now he
was deeply upset. He grew quiet, and his bright inquiring eyes never once
left his father's face.
Pavlik, who had just turned eight and had become a schoolboy, was
oblivious to all that was taking place; he was completely absorbed in the
affairs of his preparatory class and his first impressions of school.
"During our writing lesson today we raised an obstruction!" he said,
pronouncing the difficult word with obvious pleasure. "Old Skeleton ordered
Kolya Shaposhnikov to leave the room although he wasn't to blame. Then we
all booed with our mouths closed until Skeleton banged so hard on the desk
that the ink-pot bounced up to the ceiling!"
"Stop it! You should be ashamed of yourself," his father said with a
pained look. Suddenly, he burst out, "Heartless brats! You should be
whipped! How could you mock an unfortunate, sick teacher whose days are
almost numbered? How could you be so brutal?" Then, apparently trying to
answer the questions that had been worrying him all those days, he went on:
"Don't you realize that the world cannot live on hate? Hate is contrary to
Christianity and to plain common sense. And this at a time when they are
laying to rest a man who, perhaps, is the last true Christian on earth."
Father's eyes became redder still. Suddenly he smiled wanly and put his
hands on the boys' shoulders. Gazing at each in turn he said:
"Promise me that you will never torture your fellow-creatures."
"I never did," Petya said softly.
Pavlik screwed up his face and pressed his close-cropped head against
Father's frock-coat which smelt of a hot iron and faintly of moth-balls.
"Daddy, I'll never do it again. We didn't know what we were doing," he
said, wiping his eyes with his fists and sniffling.








SKELETON