"Valentin Katayev. The Cottage in the Steppe (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автораto set out immediately to see all the sights of this most wonderful city,
the panorama of which was so close that they could see the ant-like coming and going of crowds of people, the cupolas of the broad, tall mosques and the spires of the minarets. They decided to forego breakfast and waited impatiently for a shrewd-looking Turkish official, who had been given several silver piastres, to scribble something in Father's passport; the scribble turned out to be the Sign of Osman. The moment the Bacheis went down the gangway, they were pounced upon by artful boatmen. Finally, they flopped on to the velvet cushions of a wherry and, for two lire, were rowed ashore. Everything that happened afterwards merged for Petya into a sensation of an endless, scorching, tiring day - the deafening babble of the truly Eastern bazaars, the equally Eastern deathly quiet of the huge deserted courts around the mosques and the stony museum-like iciness inside. At every step they parted with a steady stream of lire, piastres, paras, and copper medjidies, coins which delighted the boys with their inscriptions in Turkish and the strange Sign of Osman. In Turkey the Bachei family first came in contact with that terrible phenomena known as guides, and guides pursued them for the remainder of their trip. There were Greek guides, Italian guides, and Swiss guides. Despite specific national traits, they all had something in common: they stuck like leeches. But the Constantinople guides left the others far behind. The minute the Bacheis set foot on the pavements of Constantinople they were besieged by guides. The scene with the rival boatmen was repeated. The which no one paid the slightest heed. The guides poured torrents of filth on each other in every language and dialect of the Levant; they tore at each other's starched dickeys, swung their sticks with contorted faces, elbowed each other, turned round and kicked out like mules. In the end the Bacheis were claimed by an impressive-looking guide who had vanquished his opponents with the help of a policeman friend. He wore a morning coat that had faded badly under the arms, striped trousers, and a red fez. His wildly-dilated nostrils and coal-black janissary moustache expressed a determination to conquer or to die; however, in every other aspect his face, and especially his frightened baggy eyes, wreathed in smiles, bespoke a desire immediately to show the tourists all there was to see in Constantinople: Pera, Galata, Yildiz Kiosk, the Fountain of Snakes, the Seven-Towered Palace, the ancient water-line, the catacombs, the wild dogs, the famous St. Sophia Mosque, Sultan Ahmed's Mosque, Suleiman's Mosque, Osman's Mosque, Selim's Mosque, Bayezid's Mosque, and all the two hundred and twenty-seven other large and six hundred and sixty-four smaller mosques in the city-in other words, he was at their complete disposal. He bundled them into a gleaming phaeton drawn by two horses, jumped on the step, looked round wildly, and told the driver not to spare the whip. They were all in by evening, so much so that Pavlik fell asleep in the boat on the way back to the ship and had to be carried up the gangway. Vasily Petrovich was aghast at the day's expenditure, not counting the fact that the breakfast and lunch due them on the ship had gone to waste. He |
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