Characteristics of the main characters of the story “Fire. Ballad Cup: analysis of the work Place of the fire episode works childhood bitter

And if only the Arkharovtsy dragged everything that caught their eye, but after all, their own, Sosnovskaya, too: “The old woman, who had never seen anything like it, picked up bottles thrown from the yard - and, of course, not empty”; one-armed Saveliy dragged sacks of flour straight to his own bathhouse. What is being done? Why are we like this? - Following Alena, Uncle Misha Khampo could have exclaimed, if he could speak. He seemed to have moved into “Fire” from “Farewell to Matyora” - there he was called Bogodul. No wonder the author emphasizes this, calling the old man "Egorov's spirit." He, just like Bogodul, hardly spoke, was just as uncompromising and extremely honest. He was considered a born watchman - not because he loved work, but simply "that's how he cut himself out, such from hundreds of hundreds of charters that were inaccessible to his head, he made the first charter: do not touch someone else." Alas, even Uncle Misha, who perceived theft as the biggest misfortune, had to put up with it: he guarded alone, and almost everyone was dragging. In a duel with the Arkharovites, Uncle Misha strangled one of them, Sonya, but he himself was killed with a mallet. Alena, the wife of Ivan Petrovich, is, in fact, the only female character in the story. This woman embodies the best, with the disappearance of which the world loses its strength. The ability to live life in harmony with oneself, seeing its meaning in work, in the family, in caring for loved ones. Throughout the story, we will never find Alena thinking about something lofty - she does not say, but does, and it turns out that her small, habitual business is still more significant than the most beautiful speeches. The image of Alena is one of the secondary images of "Fire", and this is true, especially when you consider that in most of Rasputin's stories it is women who are the main characters (Anna in "Farewell to Matyora", Nastya in "Live and Remember").

Gorky's main task is to show the dark and dirty life that all the characters in the story have to live. How do they feel about their way of being? Perceiving the reader passes through the biased prism of the author's gaze and almost always identifies him with the main character, Alyosha. This work is not a fairy tale, not a true story, but a story about real events, about the childhood of a great writer. The author, who took the pseudonym Gorky, left the original names and surnames of all the characters. Alyosha, who lives in the Kashirin family, will defeat the strong and tenacious forces of the gloomy world. In the meantime, he just lives, observes and tries to analyze.

Soon there will be trouble. We will try to analyze the episode "fire" from Gorky's story "Childhood". The essay will show the behavior of all the characters in this story.

Artistic use of the word

The description of the fire and all the characters reflected the mastery of the Gorky Russian language. He vividly shows all the colors of the fire, terrible and bewitching, constantly changing. The epithets and descriptions are such that the picture of this drama seems to be painted on canvas. Fire is an independent living acting formidable face, which, it seems, is impossible to resist. In his light, the determination and composure of the grandmother, as well as the confusion of all the other characters, are visible.

Against the backdrop of a grandiose picture of fire, small figures of the grandfather, Yakov, and women are stupidly rushing about. Only Akulina Ivanovna is majestic, bold and resolute. Only she sees and notices everything, manages everything everywhere and disposes of everything smartly and quickly. This is emphasized by the verbs that Gorky uses when describing all the actions of his grandmother.

Like thunder from the sky

The fire broke into the house. Grandmother abruptly jumped to her feet, gasped and rushed into another, dark room. This will begin the analysis of the episode "fire" from Gorky's story "Childhood". This behavior is very different from the grandmother of all the rest, who can not instantly get together and act in an unusual situation. Akulina Ivanovna hurriedly gave orders to the women who had lost their heads, who themselves could not figure out what to do: save the icons, dress and take the children out. Embittered, Uncle Yakov could not put on his boots in a hurry and shouted that Mishka was to blame for the fire, who had set everything on fire and ran away.

Grandmother did not like the scandal that was brewing inopportunely. She sharply and strongly pushed Yakov, so much so that he almost fell, and stopped his hysteria. This suggests that everyone should act in unison, without shifting the blame on someone. Evil people, as Yakov's actions on the fire will later show, can't really do anything. All these descriptions are required in order to analyze the episode "fire" from Gorky's story "Childhood".

Fire painting

She stands out sharply from the whole chapter with her breathtakingly scary beauty. Here is not the look of a boy, but a description of the author, who recalls a raging fire that captures horror and amazement, that element that seems impossible to understand or stop. This is a real landscape kaleidoscope of green, blue, red, gold colors. The reader is presented with a surprisingly accurate selection of details.

Before an essay is given on the topic: “Analysis of the episode“ fire ”from Gorky’s story“ Childhood ”, a lesson in the class gives an oral analysis of this moment. On a quiet windless night, the Kashirins’ workshop burned, over which the Stozhars shone. It was as bright as day - you could even see the crooked nails sticking out of the walls. The fire had already risen to the old dry roof. It quickly meandered along it in golden and red narrow streams. In the Kashirins' dyeing workshop, raging, rushing about and destroying everything in its path, the fire is gaining full strength. The old building was all golden, like a church iconostasis.

At the age of 13-14, it is already possible and necessary to learn to generalize and ponder the read work. The analysis of the episode "fire" from Gorky's story "Childhood" (Grade 7) must be mastered by every student. Little Alyosha was drawn to the fire. He threw on someone's sheepskin coat and went out into the yard.

Delay is death

And grandmother had no time to admire the fire and listen to the lamentations of her grandfather: she was the first to remember about the explosive mixture. Covering herself with rags, she poked herself right into the fire, shouting: “The vitriol will explode, you fools!” Instantly, the grandmother emerged from the fire with a heavy bottle of combustible substance. She was smoking all over. "Get the horse out! Unharness your horse! Remove the burning blanket!” she ordered. This is another detail that will contribute to a full-fledged analysis of the episode "fire" from Gorky's story "Childhood". An essay on this topic should be written with picturesque pictures of the fire.

But the grandmother did not calm down. She rushed to the neighbors for help, bowing to them, asking for help so that the fire would not spread to their homes. “Neighbors, friendly - God help you! Take care of your good so that the fire does not spread to you! Until then, help us!" She ordered Grigory and Yakov to give the neighbors axes and shovels to cut through the roof and throw hay into the garden.

However, a deeper analysis of the episode "fire" from Gorky's story "Childhood" is needed. An essay on this topic must be written, characterizing the behavior of all the characters. Grandma's behavior is special, she doesn't think about herself at all. She has only one thought - to save everyone and everything. This is a heroic person who is not aware of his heroism, but perceives it casually, naturally. Little Alyosha, afraid to miss the indelible sight, hid under the porch and carefully watched everything. The boy was not afraid of fire, he was only worried about his grandmother: empathy and a desire to help, if possible, is one of Alyosha's distinguishing features.

The workshop no longer had a roof. She burned out. The rafters, gilded by fire, protruded from its remnants. They were thick, so they could not burn quickly. Smoke billowed above them. Inside the workshop, everything howled and crackled. Flames shot out of her. And below were the people gathered by the grandmother, and threw snow on the fire. Alyosha's eyes watered from the steam and smoke. He crawled out from under the porch and bumped into his grandmother. In her hearts, she told him to leave, so as not to be crushed.

Sharap

Out of fear, a horse ran out into the yard - a huge and strong Sharap. He was frightened by the bright fire, which illuminated his large and intelligent eyes. He snored in horror and leaned forward, not moving. Grandfather could not even keep the frightened horse. Grandmother rushed to Sharap, who reared up, stood firmly in front of him, and the horse believed her strength, only plaintively looked at the fire.

Grandmother spoke to him sternly and calmly, patting his rump and neck. But this is exactly how you can calm any animal - with your unfeigned calmness. And Sharap followed her. But he was three times the size of a man. And the big smart animal believed the grandmother. An analysis of the episode "Fire" from Gorky's story "Childhood" shows that everyone - both people and animals, listened only to their grandmother. Alyosha understands how important it is to be attentive to others.

Akulina Ivanovna's concerns

After the fire, a tired and nervous grandmother returned. She sat heavily next to Alyosha. The woman was silent and swayed. She and the boy sat side by side, silently reviewing the nightmares of the night. They both understood that everything grandmother did saved them all: she was patient, stubborn and strong like no other. But she had no rest. A smeared grandfather appeared, whom his grandmother ordered to wash. He did not even find the strength to say how the smart woman behaved in the fire. Bilely and caustically, he said: "The Lord gives you reason for an hour." Grandmother only chuckled at this: she perfectly understood that anger spoke in him.

Grandfather just grinned biliously and said that for an oversight, Grigory should be fired and the weeping worthless Yakov should be consoled. Tired grandmother left . Analysis of the episode "Fire" from Gorky's story "Childhood" explains that everything rested only on the behavior of Akulina Ivanovna. She blew on her burned hand. It can be seen that the grandfather was consumed by envy of the grandmother's courage and ability to organize everything correctly. In the world of the old man, there was a lack of kindness and compassion, mercy, with which the world of Akulina Ivanovna was filled.

How did the night end

From fright, the pregnant aunt Natalia began premature birth. And here the grandmother disposed of everything, despite the burns and fatigue. The difficult night did not end, it dragged on and on. Alyosha lay in bed, and everything pressed on him and destroyed him. Later, he will closely observe, study the dark life. He will understand that he must be strong, like a grandmother, never lose heart in order to overcome everything. He will know all the joys and pains of empathy to the end.
It would seem that this terrible world should embitter and harden the child. But the opposite is happening. Gradually, love and aching pity for people grow in his soul, the desire to help them at all costs, faith in goodness grows stronger. An analysis of the “fire” episode from Gorky’s story “Childhood” according to a mentally drawn up plan will easily and simply fall on paper:

1. Introduction. Are the actions taking place real?
2. The artistic skill of the author is the epithets and colors of the description of the fire, the verbs describing the actions of the grandmother.
3. Organizational skills and heroism of the grandmother.
4. The rest of the characters during the fire.
5. Conclusion. What did Gorky mean?

Alyosha did not fit in with his environment. He has grown spiritually. The boy resisted what was contrary to the understanding of good and evil, beauty and ugliness. He believed that good deeds would overcome anger and envy and make the world a better place. Alyosha painfully resisted the age-old traditions of the possessive world. An accident, a fire in a dyeing workshop, leads to the idea that the industrial revolution underway in Russia will not spare the senselessly cruel decrepit world. She will just destroy him.

The plot of the story is built around a fire that occurred in a warehouse in the village of Sosnovka. An emergency reveals the character of each local resident, makes it necessary to show who is capable of what in an emergency situation.

The protagonist of the story is Ivan Petrovich Egorov. His surname comes from the name of the village of Yegorovka, where he was born. During the war years, Ivan Petrovich was a tanker and dreamed of returning home. However, even after the war, he was expected to part with his native village. The village was subject to flooding.

Egorov was forced to move to the new village of Sosnovka, which became the scene of the story. Despite the fact that Ivan Petrovich does not like the new place, he does not intend to move to the city. So did his brother Goshka, who later became an alcoholic. It is life in the city that Yegorov blames for the moral fall of his brother.

The protagonist notices that the world around has changed significantly. Once Sosnovka was quite a habitable settlement. The locals helped each other. People worked not for their own gain, but for the collective good. However, with the advent of "light" villagers, Arkharovtsy, everything changed. The new residents did not need a farm. They only earned money for food and alcohol. Crime is growing in Sosnovka, provoked by drunken brawlers.

The current situation upsets Ivan Petrovich. The protagonist continues to live in the world of socialist values. He is accustomed to the fact that the authority of these values ​​is indisputable. There can be no other ideals. Nevertheless, there are people who prove that indestructible life principles can also be crushed. Ivan Petrovich will have to live out in a completely different world, where no one believes in the triumph of universal happiness. The protagonist watches with horror that during the fire every villager strives to steal things from the burning warehouse. Everyone is trying to take advantage of the tragedy. The greatest zeal is shown when saving vodka, which is immediately drunk.

Ivan Petrovich despises destruction in any form. He has a negative attitude towards deforestation, considering such work to be soulless. Egorov perceives any destruction as an attempt on the only correct system of values ​​for him.

Other characters

Alena is the wife of the protagonist. The author idealizes the relationship of spouses. The Egorovs have been happily married for over thirty years. Over the years, they raised three children who have long been living separately from their parents. Alena becomes part of Ivan Petrovich himself. She fully shares his ideals and dreams.

Afonya Bronnikov is a countryman of the protagonist, who also once moved to Sosnovka from Yegorovka. Afonya is also an adherent of the old ideals. However, Bronnikov's "decomposition" of society worries much less than Yegorov. Afonya believes that everyone is responsible for himself. He himself lives honestly, works and deceives no one. This is quite enough to feel happy. It is impossible to demand respect for one's values ​​from others; The only way to influence the behavior of others is to set a personal example. The author does not agree with his hero. Through the mouth of Yegorov, he says that it is too late to set an example.

One of the keepers of the old customs in the story is Uncle Misha Khampo. Everyone loves and respects this resident of Sosnovka. Hampo has been paralyzed since childhood. However, despite serious speech impairments and an inoperable hand, Uncle Misha was married and worked hard. The author put a symbolic meaning into Hampo's work: the hero worked as a watchman for a modest fee, thus being the guardian of traditions. Hampo is forced to adapt to a new reality. He does not fight with it, does not try to remake it, does not impose on anyone the outgoing ideals. Uncle Misha's incapacity indicates that the old values ​​have already lost their strength. Hampo's death was accidental and unheroic. He didn't die saving someone or something in a fire. He was simply killed by drunk Arkharovtsy.

main idea

Despite the fact that people like Yegorov believe in the existence of absolute ideals common to all mankind, there are no values ​​common to all. Values ​​can be inherent only to a certain group of people for a limited period of time. Both the characters and the author of the story have to be convinced of this.

Analysis of the work

In 1985, Valentin Rasputin wrote his story. "Fire" (a summary of the story only summarizes the general idea of ​​the work, without fully revealing its essence), "Farewell to the mother" and some other stories of the writer are devoted to the struggle of two worlds - the new and the outgoing. “Farewell to Matyora” is a confrontation between the small universe of the older, pre-revolutionary generation, filled with traditions and giving, and the new atheistic reality of the younger generation. In the story "Fire" two systems of values ​​are opposed to each other.

The settlements described in the work and the fire itself carry a symbolic meaning, becoming a miniature of the whole country and the events taking place in it. Yegorovka is the world in which some residents of Sosnovka were born and raised. Ivan Petrovich and Afonya grew up here - honest workers, accustomed to working on "bare enthusiasm", not wanting anything for themselves. These people are used to sharing the latter. They are alien to selfishness and greed. As in some of his other works, the author contrasts life in the countryside with life in the city. Ivan Petrovich is sure that only in the countryside is a person able to maintain moral purity and spiritual values ​​instilled in childhood. The city spoils even very good people. In a huge settlement, where people do not know each other, it is possible, having felt freedom, to forget those rules and traditions, the non-observance of which is so noticeable in the village.

We invite you to familiarize yourself with the summary of the story “Farewell to Matera” by Valentin Rasputin, depicting the story of forced migration from a village that should be flooded due to the construction of a dam.

Rasputin's story "The Last Term" shows the attitude of old people to death as a natural and expected event, the final stage of the earthly journey and the transition to eternity.

Yegorovka was destroyed. The residents have dispersed. Ivan Petrovich and some of his countrymen moved to Sosnovka, which for some time resembles a flooded settlement. However, very soon, after the arrival of carriers of a different system of values, which Ivan Petrovich considers anti-values, the village begins to regenerate. Arkharovtsy establish their own rules. Their example becomes more contagious than that of Yegorov. Working for a better life for the next generations is too abstract happiness. Residents of Sosnovka are quickly moving to a new system of ideals.

The fire symbolizes the final transition to a new stage of development. Rasputin attributes anthropomorphic qualities to him: fire greedily pounces on things, voraciously devouring them one by one. An emergency seems to push people to criminal activity. Fire agrees to write off theft. The few fighters for socialist values ​​continue to resist the new. Neither the author nor his heroes suspect that in just a few years an even greater fire will break out in the country. He will force you to make a final choice: to recognize new ideals and live on, or to defend old principles and perish.

The episode "Fire" is one of the main episodes in the story. He plays a big role in the development of the plot and composition.

In this episode, the main character is the grandmother Akulina Ivanovna. The secondary characters are Alyosha and grandfather. Akulina Ivanovna did not lose her head during the fire and promptly took measures to preserve property and animal husbandry: “Evgenia, take off the icons! Natalia, dress up guys! Grandma commanded in a strict, strong voice”, “Vitriol, fools! Will blow up the vitriol”, “She threw herself under the feet of the soaring horse,

stood before him with a cross.

The grandfather was not ready for this: “And the grandfather howled softly: I-i-s ...”. And Alyosha followed what was happening: “I ran out into the kitchen; the window to the courtyard sparkled like gold; yellow spots flowed and slid along the floor ... ”.

And even in this episode, hostility in the family is felt: “It was Mishka who set it on fire, set it on fire and left, yeah!” Yakov shouted at Mishka, accusing him of arson, although the fire was caused due to Grigory's oversight.

The author used epithets in this episode: yellow spots, curly fire, red flowers; comparison: the window to the courtyard sparkled, like gold; it was as interesting as the fire and other tricks. They help us to better recreate the picture that happens in the story.

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I lie on a wide bed, four times wrapped in a heavy blanket, and listen to how my grandmother prays to God, kneeling, pressing one hand to her chest, slowly and infrequently crossing herself with the other.

Frost shoots in the yard; greenish moonlight looks through the patterned glass of the window, covered in ice, well illuminating the kind, nosed face and lighting dark eyes with phosphorescent fire. The silk head, covering the grandmother's hair, shines, as if forged, the dark dress moves, flows from the shoulders, spreading across the floor.

Having finished the prayer, the grandmother will silently undress, carefully fold her clothes on the chest in the corner and go to the bed, and I pretend to be sound asleep.

“After all, you’re lying, go, robber, you’re not sleeping?” she says softly. - Do not sleep, they say, the soul is blue? Come on, give me a blanket!

Looking forward to what's to come, I can't help but smile; then she growls:

- Ah, so you started playing jokes on the old grandmother!

Taking the blanket by the edge, she pulls it so deftly and strongly towards her that I jump in the air and, turning over several times, plop into the soft feather bed, and she laughs:

- What, radish son? Ate a mosquito?

But sometimes she prays for a very long time, I really fall asleep and no longer hear her lie down.

Long prayers always close the days of grief, quarrels and fights; it is very interesting to listen to them; grandmother tells God in detail about everything that happened in the house; he kneels heavily, like a big mound, and at first whispers indistinctly, quickly, and then grumbles thickly:

- You, Lord, you know yourself - everyone wants what is better. Mikhailo is the eldest, he should have stayed in the city, it’s a shame for him to go across the river, and the place there is new, untested, what will happen is unknown. And the father - he loves Jacob more. Ali is good - is it uneven to love children? Stubborn old man - you, Lord, would have enlightened him.

Looking at the dark icons with large luminous eyes, she advises her god:

- Bring a good dream on him, Lord, so that he can understand how children should be divided!

He makes the sign of the cross, bows to the ground, banging his big forehead against the floorboard, and, straightening up again, says impressively:

- Varvara would have smiled with joy! How did she anger you, than more sinful than others? What it is: a young, healthy woman, but lives in sorrow. And remember, Lord, Grigory, his eyes are getting worse. Go blind - go around the world, not good! He spent all his strength on grandfather, but can grandfather really help ... Oh, Lord, Lord ...

She is silent for a long time, obediently lowering her head and hands, as if she had fallen asleep soundly, she froze.

What else? she recalls aloud, furrowing her brows. - Save, have mercy on all Orthodox; Forgive me, the damned fool, - you know: I sin not from evil, but from a stupid mind.

And, taking a deep breath, she says affectionately, with satisfaction:

You know everything, my dear, everything is known to you, father.

I really liked my grandmother's god, so close to her, and I often asked her:

Tell about God!

She spoke of him in a special way: very quietly, drawing out her words strangely, closing her eyes, and without fail sitting; rises, sits down, throws a handkerchief over his bare-haired head, and turns him on for a long time until you fall asleep:

The Lord sits on a hill, in the middle of a paradise meadow, on the throne of the blue stone of the yacht, under silver lindens, and those lindens bloom all year round; there is neither winter nor autumn in paradise, and the flowers never wither, they bloom tirelessly, to the joy of God's saints. And around the Lord, angels fly in multitudes - like snow is falling, or bees are swarming, - or white doves fly from heaven to earth and again to heaven and tell God everything about us, about people. Here and yours, and mine, and grandfather - everyone is given an angel, the Lord is equal to everyone. Here is your angel bringing the Lord: "Lexey stuck out his tongue to grandfather!" And the Lord will order: "Well, let the old man flog him!" And so everything, about everyone, and he rewards everyone according to their deeds - to whom grief, to whom joy. And all this is so good with him that the angels are having fun, flapping their wings and singing to him endlessly: "Glory to you, Lord, glory to you!" And he, dear, only smiles at them - they say, okay!

And she herself smiles, shaking her head.

Did you see it?

I haven't seen it, but I know! she replies thoughtfully.

Speaking of God, paradise, angels, she became small and meek, her face became younger, her moist eyes streamed a particularly warm light. I took heavy satin braids in my hands, wrapped them around my neck and, without moving, sensitively listened to the endless, never boring stories.

It is not given to man to see God - you will go blind; only the saints look at him with all their eyes. But I saw angels; they are shown when the soul is pure. I stood in the church at an early mass, and two people walk in the altar, like fogs, you can see everything through them, bright, bright, and wings to the floor, lacy, muslin. They walk around the throne and help Father Ilya, the old man: he will raise his dilapidated hands, praying to God, and they support his elbows. He was very old, he was already blind, he poked at everything and soon after that he managed to die. Then, when I saw them, I died of joy, my heart ached, tears rolled down, - oh, it was good! Oh, Lenka, blue soul, everything is good with God in heaven and on earth, so good ...

And are we good?

Crossing herself, the grandmother answered:

Glory to the Blessed Virgin Mary - everything is fine!

This embarrassed me: it was difficult to admit that everything was fine in the house; I thought it was getting worse and worse. One day, passing by the door to Uncle Mikhail's room, I saw Aunt Natalya, all in white, clutching her arms to her chest, darting about the room, crying softly, but terribly:

Lord, take me, take me away...

Her prayer was understandable to me, and I understood Gregory when he grumbled:

I'll go blind, I'll go around the world, and it will be better ...

I wanted him to go blind as soon as possible - I would ask for a guide to him, and we would walk the world together. I already told him about it; the master, grinning into his beard, replied:

That's fine, and let's go! And I will announce in the city: this is Vasily Kashirin, the shop foreman, grandson, from his daughter! It will be fun...

More than once I saw blue tumors under Aunt Natalya's empty eyes, swollen lips on her yellow face. I asked my grandmother

Uncle beats her?

Sighing, she replied:

Beats quietly, cursed anathema? Grandfather does not order to beat her, so he does at night. He is evil, and she is jelly ...

And he says, inspiring:

Still, now they don’t beat like they beat! Well, he’ll hit you in the teeth, in the ear, and pat you on your braids for a minute, but before that they tortured you for hours! My grandfather used to beat me on the first day of Pascha from mass until evening. If he beats - he gets tired, and after resting - again. And reins and everything.

I don't remember. And then suddenly he beat me half to death and didn’t give me food for five days - I barely survived then. And then more...

This surprised me to the point of numbness: my grandmother was twice as large as my grandfather, and I could not believe that he could defeat her.

Is he stronger than you?

Not stronger, but older! Plus, my husband! But God will ask me of him, but I was ordered to endure ...

It was interesting and pleasant to see how she dusted the icons and cleaned the vestments; the icons were rich, in pearls, silver and colored stones on the rims; she took the icon with dexterous hands, looked at it smiling and said tenderly:

Eco cute face!

Crossed, kissed.

Dusty, smoky - oh, you, all-helping mother, inescapable joy! Look, Lenya, your soul is blue, the writing is so delicate, the figurines are tiny, and each one stands alone. This is called the Twelve Feasts, in the middle of which is the Mother of God Feodorovskaya, pre-good. And this is - Do not cry for me, mother, seeing in the coffin ...

Sometimes it seemed to me that she played with icons just as sincerely and seriously as the bruised sister Katerina played with dolls.

She often saw devils, in multitudes and alone.

I am walking somehow during a great fast, at night, past Rudolf's house; a moonlit, moloss night, I suddenly see: riding on the roof, near the chimney, sits a black man, bent his horned head over the chimney and sniffs, snorts, big, shaggy. He sniffs with his tail on the roof and carries, shuffling. I crossed him: "May God rise again and scatter his enemies," I say. Then he squealed softly and slid somersault off the roof into the yard - wasted! The Rudolfs must have cooked the meat that day, and he sniffed, rejoicing ...

I laugh, imagining the devil tumbling off the roof, and she laughs too, saying:

They love mischief very much, just like small children! Once I was washing in the bath, and the time came until midnight; suddenly the stove door will bounce! And they rained down from there, small and small smaller, red, green, black, like cockroaches. I - to the door - no move; got bogged down among the demons, they filled the whole bathhouse, you can’t turn around, they climb under your feet, pull, squeezed so that I can’t even wake up! Furry, soft, hot, like kittens, only on their hind legs; spinning, mischievous, mouse teeth grin, eyes are green, horns barely made their way, stick out with bumps, pig tails - oh, you, fathers! I've lost my memory! And as she returned to herself - the candle was barely burning, the trough caught a cold, the washed one was thrown on the floor. Oh you, I think, inflate you with a mountain!

Closing my eyes, I see how from the vent of the stove, from its gray cobblestones, hairy, motley creatures pour in a thick stream, fill a small bath, blow on a candle, stick out mischievously pink tongues. This is also funny, but also creepy. Grandmother, shaking her head, is silent for a minute, and suddenly all of a sudden everything flares up again.

And then, the damned, I saw; it was also at night, in winter, there was a blizzard. I’m going through the Dyukov ravine, where, remember, I said, they wanted to drown your father Yakov and Mikhailo in the hole in the pond? Well, here I go; just somersaulted down the path, to the bottom, how-ak whistles, hoots along the ravine! I look, and a trio of blacks is rushing at me, and such a portly devil in a red cap sticks out with a stake, rules them, stood on the box, stretched out his arms, holds the reins from forged chains. But there was no ride along the ravine, and the troika flies straight into the pond, covered by a snow cloud. And all the devils are sitting in the sleigh too; they whistle, shout, wave their hats, - yes, seven triplets galloped like firefighters, and all the horses were black, and all of them are people cursed by their fathers and mothers; such people go to hell for fun, and those people ride them, drive them at night on their various holidays. I must have seen the demonic wedding...

You can’t not trust your grandmother - she speaks so simply, convincingly.

But she spoke especially well poems about how the Mother of God went through the torments of the earth, how she exhorted the robber "prince-lady" Engalycheva not to beat, not to rob the Russian people; poems about Alexei the man of God, about Ivan the warrior; fairy tales about the wise Vasilisa, about Pope the goat and God's godson; terrible were about Martha Posadnitsa, about Baba Ust, the chieftain of robbers, about Mary, an Egyptian sinner, about the sorrows of the mother of a robber; she knew countless fairy tales, stories and poems.

Not afraid of either people, or grandfather, or devils, or any other evil spirits, she was terribly afraid of black cockroaches, feeling them even at a great distance from herself. It used to wake me up at night and whisper:

Olesha, honey, the cockroach is climbing, crush it. For Christ's sake!

Sleepy, I lit a candle and crawled across the floor, looking for the enemy; It didn't happen right away and I didn't always succeed.

Nowhere, - I said, and she, lying motionless, wrapped in a blanket with her head, asked in a barely audible voice:

Oh, there is! Well, look, please! He's here, I know...

She was never wrong - I found a cockroach somewhere far from the bed.

Killed? Well, thank God! And thank you...

And, throwing off the blanket from her head, she sighed with relief, smiling.

If I didn't find an insect, she couldn't sleep; I felt her body tremble at the slightest rustle in the dead silence of the night, and I heard her whispering, holding her breath:

Near the threshold he ... crawled under the chest ...

Why are you afraid of cockroaches?

She reasonably replied:

What I don't understand is what are they for? Crawl and crawl, black. The Lord assigned his task to every smolder: the wood lice shows that the house is damp; bedbug - means the walls are dirty; a louse attacks - a person will be unwell - everything is clear! And these - who knows what power lives in them, what they are sent to?

Once, when she was on her knees, heartily conversing with God, grandfather, throwing open the door to the room, said in a hoarse voice:

Well, mother, the Lord visited us - we are burning!

What are you! shouted the grandmother, throwing herself up from the floor, and both, stomping heavily, rushed into the darkness of the large front room.

Evgenia, take off the icons! Natalia, dress up guys! Grandmother commanded in a strict, strong voice, and grandfather howled softly:

I ran out into the kitchen; the window to the courtyard sparkled like gold; yellow spots flowed and slid along the floor; barefoot uncle Yakov, putting on his boots, jumped on them, as if his soles were burning, and shouted:

This Mishka set it on fire, set it on fire and left, yeah!

Hush, dog, - said the grandmother, pushing him to the door so that he almost fell.

Through the frost on the glass, one could see how the roof of the workshop was burning, and behind its open door a curly fire swirled. In the still night its red flowers bloomed without smoke; only a darkish cloud hovered very high above them, not preventing them from seeing the silver stream of the Milky Way. The snow glowed crimson, and the walls of the buildings trembled, swaying, as if aiming for a hot corner of the yard, where the fire played merrily, filling the wide cracks in the workshop wall with red, protruding from them like red-hot crooked nails. On the dark boards of the dry roof, quickly entangling it, golden, red ribbons wriggled; among them a thin pottery chimney protruded noisily and smoked with smoke; a quiet crackle, a silky rustle beat against the glass of the window; the fire kept growing; the workshop, decorated by him, became similar to the iconostasis in the church and invincibly lured closer to him.

Throwing a heavy sheepskin coat over my head, putting my feet into someone's boots, I dragged myself out into the canopy, onto the porch and was stunned, blinded by the bright play of fire, deafened by the cries of my grandfather, Grigory, uncle, the crackle of the fire, frightened by the behavior of my grandmother: throwing an empty bag over my head, wrapping herself in a blanket, she ran straight into the fire and thrust herself into it, crying out:

Vitriol, fools! The vitriol will explode...

Gregory, hold her! howled the grandfather. - Oh, it's gone...

But the grandmother had already surfaced, all smoking, shaking her head, bending over, carrying a bucket bottle of vitriol oil on outstretched arms.

Father, bring the horse out! - wheezing, coughing, she screamed. - Take it off your shoulders, - I’m burning, or you can’t see it! ..

Grigory tore off her smoldering blanket from her shoulders and, breaking in half, began to throw large clods of snow at the door of the workshop with a shovel; his uncle jumped about him with an ax in his hands, grandfather ran near his grandmother, throwing snow at her; she thrust the bottle into a snowdrift, rushed to the gate, opened it, and, bowing to the people who had run in, said:

Barn, neighbors, defend! The fire will spread to the barn, to the hayloft - our everything will burn to the ground and yours will be taken care of! Chop the roof, hay - into the garden! Grigory, throw from above that you are throwing something on the ground! Jacob, don't fuss, give people axes, shovels! Brothers-neighbors, take it as friends - God will help you.

She was as interesting as the fire: illuminated by fire, which seemed to catch her, black, she rushed around the yard, keeping up with everything, disposing of everything, seeing everything.

Sharap ran out into the yard, rearing up, tossing his grandfather up; fire struck his large eyes, they flashed red; the horse began to snore, rested its front legs; grandfather let go of the reins and jumped back, shouting:

Mother, hold on!

She threw herself under the feet of the soaring horse, stood in front of him with a cross; the horse neighed plaintively, reached out to her, squinting at the flames.

You should not be scared! Grandmother said in a bass voice, patting him on the neck and taking the reins. - Ali, I will leave you in fear of this? Oh you mouse...

The little mouse, three times her size, dutifully followed her to the gate and snorted, looking at her red face.

Nanny Yevgenya led the muffled, muffled children out of the house and shouted:

Vasily Vasilyich, Lexei is gone...

Gone, gone! - answered grandfather, waving his hand, and I hid under the steps of the porch so that the nanny would not take me away.

The roof of the workshop has already collapsed; the thin rafters of the rafters stuck up into the sky, smoking with smoke, sparkling with the gold of coals; inside the building, green, blue, red whirlwinds exploded with a howl and crackle, the flames were thrown out in sheaves into the yard, onto people crowding around a huge fire, throwing snow into it with shovels. Cauldrons boiled furiously in the fire, steam and smoke rose in a thick cloud, strange smells wafted around the yard, squeezing tears from the eyes; I got out from under the porch and got under the feet of my grandmother.

Get away! - she shouted. - Crush, go away ...

A rider in a copper cap with a comb burst into the yard. A red horse sprayed foam, and he, raising his hand with a whip high, yelled; threatening:

Give out!

The bells rang merrily and hastily, everything was festively beautiful. Grandma pushed me onto the porch:

Who am I talking to? Get away!

It was impossible not to listen to her at that hour. I went into the kitchen, again clung to the glass of the window, but behind the dark crowd of people the fire was no longer visible - only copper helmets sparkled among the winter black hats and caps.

The fire was quickly crushed to the ground, flooded, trampled, the police dispersed the people, and the grandmother entered the kitchen.

Who is this? You and? Can't sleep, are you afraid? Don't worry, it's all over...

She sat down next to me and fell silent, swaying. It was good that the quiet night, the darkness, returned again; but the fire was a pity.

Grandfather came in, stopped at the threshold and asked:

Burnt?

He lit a sulfur match, illuminating his ferret face, smeared with soot, with blue fire, looked out for a candle on the table and, without hurrying, sat down next to his grandmother.

I’d wash my face,” she said, also covered in soot, smelling of acrid smoke.

Grandpa sighed.

The Lord is merciful before you, he gives you a great mind ...

For a short time, for an hour, but it gives! ..

Grandmother also grinned, wanted to say something, but grandfather frowned.

She got up and left, holding her hand in front of her face, blowing on her fingers, and grandfather, not looking at me, quietly asked:

Did you see the whole fire, from the beginning? Grandma, how are you? After all, the old woman ... Bat, broken ... That's the same! Oh you and...

He bent over and was silent for a long time, then got up and, removing the soot from the candle with his fingers, asked again:

Were you afraid?

And there's nothing to be afraid of...

Angrily pulling his shirt off his shoulders, he went to the corner, to the washstand, and there, in the darkness, stamping his foot, he said loudly:

Fire is stupid! For a fire with a whip in the square, it is necessary to beat the victim; he is a fool, otherwise he is a thief! That's how it should be done, and there will be no fires! .. Go to sleep. Why are you sitting?

I left, but it was not possible to sleep that night: as soon as I lay down in bed - I was thrown out of it by an inhuman howl; I rushed into the kitchen again; among her stood the grandfather without a shirt, with a candle in his hands; the candle trembled, he shuffled his feet on the floor and, without moving from his place, croaked:

Mother, Jacob, what is this?

I jumped up on the stove, huddled in a corner, and the house began to fuss again, as if on fire; a measured, ever louder, hoarse howl beat against the ceiling and walls like a wave. Grandfather and uncle ran wildly, grandmother shouted, driving them somewhere; Grigory rattled the wood as he stuffed it into the stove, poured water into the cast-iron irons, and paced the kitchen, shaking his head like an Astrakhan camel.

Yes, you fire the oven first! Grandma commanded.

He rushed after the torch, felt my leg and shouted uneasily:

Who's here? Fu, scared .. Everywhere you are, where you don’t need to ...

What is being done?

Aunt Natalya is about to give birth,” he said indifferently, jumping to the floor.

I remembered that my mother did not cry like that when she gave birth.

Putting the cast iron on the fire, Grigory climbed onto the stove and, taking a clay pipe out of his pocket, showed it to me.

I'm starting to smoke, for the eyes! Grandmother advises: sniff, but I think it's better to smoke ...

He sat on the edge of the stove, his legs dangling, looking down at the poor candlelight; his ear and cheek were smeared with soot, his shirt was torn at the side, I saw his ribs, as wide as hoops. One glass of the glasses was broken, almost half of the glass fell out of the rim, and a red eye, wet, like a wound, peered into the hole. Stuffing his pipe with leafy tobacco, he listened to the moans of the woman in labor and muttered incoherently, resembling a drunkard:

Grandma got burned. How will she take it? See how your aunt groans! Forgot about her; she, listen, even at the very beginning of the fire began to writhe - with fright ... Here it is, how difficult it is to give birth to a person, but women are not respected! You remember: women must be respected, mothers, that is ..

I dozed and woke up from the fuss, the slamming of doors, the drunken cries of Uncle Mikhail; strange words came into my ears:

The royal doors must be opened...

Give her lamp oil with rum and soot: half a glass of oil, half a glass of rum and a tablespoon of soot ...

Uncle Mikhailo importunately asked:

Let me take a look...

He sat on the floor, his legs spread wide, and spat in front of him, slapping his palms on the floor. It became unbearably hot on the stove, I got down, but when I caught up with my uncle, he caught me by the leg, pulled, and I fell, hitting the back of my head.

Fool, I told him.

He jumped to his feet, grabbed me again and roared, swinging me:

I'll hit the stove...

I woke up in the front room, in the corner, under the images, on my grandfather's knees; looking at the ceiling, he rocked me and said in a low voice:

We have no excuse, no one ...

Over his head a lamp burned brightly, on the table, in the middle of the room, a candle, and a muddy winter morning was already looking out the window.

Grandfather asked, leaning towards me:

What hurts?

Everything ached: my head was wet, my body was heavy, but I didn’t want to talk about it, everything around was so strange: almost all the chairs in the room were filled with strangers: a priest in purple, a gray-haired old man in glasses and a military dress, and many more; they all sat motionless, like wooden ones, frozen in anticipation, and listened to the splash of water, somewhere close. Uncle Yakov stood at the door frame, stretched out, his hands behind his back. Grandfather told him:

Come on, take this one to sleep...

My uncle beckoned me with his finger and went on tiptoe to the door of my grandmother's room, and when I climbed onto the bed, he whispered:

Aunt Natalia died...

This did not surprise me - she had been living invisibly for a long time, not going out into the kitchen, to the table.

Where is grandma?

There, - answered the uncle, waving his hand, and went away all the same on the toes of his bare feet.

I lay on the bed, looking around. Someone's hairy, gray-haired, blind faces pressed against the glass of the window; in the corner, above the chest, hangs my grandmother's dress - I knew that - but now it seemed that someone alive was hiding there and waiting. Hiding my head under the pillow, I looked with one eye at the door; I wanted to jump out of the feather bed and run. It was hot, a thick, heavy smell was suffocating, reminiscent of how Gypsy was dying and streams of blood were spreading across the floor; some kind of tumor grew in the head or heart; everything that I saw in this house dragged through me, like a winter wagon train down the street, and crushed, destroyed ...

The door opened very slowly, grandmother crawled into the room, closed the door with her shoulder, leaned her back against it, and, holding out her hands to the blue light of the inextinguishable lamp, quietly, childishly plaintively, said:

My hands, my hands hurt...