"Hot Heart" is one of the most famous plays by A.N. Ostrovsky, speaking about which experts, first of all, note the sharpness of its satirical sound. The life of the eminent merchant Kuroslepov passes in unrestrained drunkenness. His second wife Matryona cheats on him with the clerk, steals her husband's money and in every possible way oppresses Kuroslepov's daughter Parasha from her first marriage. The plot revolves around the loss of a large amount of money. Radio version of the performance of the Moscow Art Theater of the USSR. M. Gorky (the performance was staged in 1926 by director K. Stanislavsky) Recorded in 1950. Pavlin Pavlinich Kuroslepov, eminent merchant - V. Stanitsyn; Matryona Kharitonovna, his wife - F. Shevchenko; Parasha, his daughter from his first wife - K. Elanskaya; Narkis, clerk of Kuroslepov, who is in charge of housekeeping - A. Zhiltsov; Gavrila, shop clerk - V. Orlov; Vasya is smart, the son of a recently ruined merchant - S. Butyugin; Silan, a distant relative of Kuroslepov, lives in the caretakers - S. Kalinin; Serapion Mardarevich Gradoboev, mayor - M. Yanshin; Aristarkh, tradesman - V. Novikov; Taras Tarasych Khlynov, wealthy contractor - A. Gribov; A gentleman with a big mustache - V. Ershov; Sidorenko, police non-commissioned officer, he is also the clerk of the mayor - Y. Sukharev; Zhigunov, alarm clock - N. Titushin. Explanatory text - S. Blinnikov.

The work belongs to the genre Dramaturgy. It was published in 1950 by GIHL. On our site you can download the book "Hot Heart" in fb2, epub format or read online. The rating of the book is 5 out of 5. Here, before reading, you can also refer to the reviews of readers who are already familiar with the book and find out their opinion. In the online store of our partner you can buy and read the book in paper form.

Kat Martin

Warm heart

Children of all the earth.

May they all find love, joy and peace

England London

January 1844

A foggy frost hung in the air above the churchyard. Even the inscriptions on the gravestones in the shadow of the stone wall of St. Michael's Church were unreadable. Coralie Whitmore, dressed in heavy black crepe and a wide-brimmed black veiled hat, stood next to her parents, the Viscount and Viscountess Selkirk, listening to the bishop's monotonous voice, but not understanding the meaning of the prayer.

In the coffin, near a pile of wet earth, was the body of her sister, which a few days ago was found in the waters of the Avon River. Laurel, according to the examination, committed suicide. Unable to bear the shame, she decided to commit suicide and threw herself into the river.

You're trembling all over, - said the father. The wind tousled his copper-red hair, the same shade as Coralie's. He was not tall and by no means a heroic physique, but he carried himself so importantly that he seemed much larger. - Bishop finished. Time to go home.

Coralie glanced at the coffin, then at the long-stemmed white rose she held in her black-gloved hand. She stepped closer, though her legs were unsteady, and placed the rose on the rosewood coffin.

I don't believe it, she whispered. - Farewell, dear sister. I will miss you very much. She turned and walked over to her parents. She and her sister had a common father, and the mother was only for Corrie.

Laurel's mother died in childbirth. The Viscount married a second time, and soon Corrie was born. They grew up together and have always been very close, except for the last few years, when Corrie began working on the editorial board of a London ladies' magazine called Heart to Heart, where she wrote a gossip column. This work had its own specifics, and it was constantly busy.

Laurel, who had always preferred to live in the country, settled with her aunt Agnes in Wiltshire, the family estate at Selkirk Hall. At first, the girls often wrote to each other, then the letters began to come less and less.

If only I could turn back time, thought Corrie, with a burning sensation in her throat. - If only I was here when you needed me ... ”But she was too busy with herself and her life, constantly attending balls and parties, about which she later wrote articles for her gossip column. She was too engrossed in her work to notice that Laurel was in trouble.

And now her sister is gone.

Are you all right, Coralie? - While in the Blue Drawing Room of the Whitmore residence in Grosvenor Square, Corrie heard the voice of her best friend. Christa Hart Draugr approached her from the other side of the living room, where soft blue damask curtains and brocaded sofas and armchairs were covered in black crepe.

Corrie put her hand under her veil and wiped a tear from her cheek.

I'll be all right. But I miss her so much and I feel… guilty all the time.

Most of those who attended the funeral - and there were not many of them, considering the circumstances of Laurel's death - gathered in the Yellow Drawing Room. It was a sumptuous saloon in gold and amber, with two marble fireplaces at opposite ends. They also laid a table for guests, but Corrie did not want to eat at all.

Don't blame yourself, Corrie. How could you know that your sister was in trouble? - said a friend, trying to somehow calm her down.

Christa was a blonde beauty. Her height did not offend her, and she was taller than many men, except for her husband Leif, a very tall blond, next to whom she seemed petite and fragile.

Leif was one of the most handsome men Corrie had ever met. Now he was at the other end of the living room talking with his brother Thor, who, unlike him, was dark-haired, but he was not inferior to him in height and was also very interesting.

I should have been wary when she almost stopped writing altogether,” Corrie said. I should have known that something was wrong.

She was twenty-three, Coralie. She was only two years older than you and very independent. Besides, if my memory serves me, she wrote to you from Norfolk.

Laurel moved to Norfolk last summer and moved in with her other aunt, Gladys. Apart from two aunts and a cousin Allison, about the same age as Corrie, Laurel had no maternal relatives. She never got along with her stepmother, Corrie's mother, but her aunts, both spinsters, loved her like their daughter, and Laurel did the same.

Yes, she wrote to me from Norfolk, but very rarely. Correspondence between us revived only in the last month, when she returned to Selkirk Hall.

According to the constable of the county of Wiltshire, Laurel, while living in Selkirk, became pregnant. Agnes initially kept this a secret until the pregnancy became noticeable, and then sent her north to her sister Gladys for Laurel to live with her until the baby was born.

Corrie glanced at the beautiful, healthy, blue-eyed Krista, who was a full six inches taller than she was. She ran a ladies' magazine and was well known as an ardent supporter of social reform.

The cops think Laurel committed suicide,” Corrie said. - Moreover, they claim that she did not throw herself into the river alone, but together with the child. I don't believe it. My sister could never hurt anyone, much less her own child.

I know that you loved her very much, Corrie, - Krista said with a sympathetic look at her friend, - but even if you are right, nothing can be done now.

Possibly, Corrie agreed, though she wasn't convinced.

She had been thinking about the circumstances of her sister's death ever since she received the terrible news that her sister had drowned with her baby's blue blouse clutched in her hand.

Corrie was desperate. She loved her sister very much and could not imagine how she would live without her.

Terrible things were said about Laurel, but Corrie refused to believe that her sister could have committed suicide.

She hoped to get to the bottom of the truth in time.

London, three months later

The editorial office of the ladies' weekly Heart to Heart was located in a narrow brick building, not far from Piccadilly. Corrie began working for the magazine shortly after Margaret Chapman Hart died and her daughter Christa took over the company with her father, Professor Sir Paxton Hart. Last year Krista married Leif Draugr, the owner of a prosperous shipbuilding firm, and gave birth to his son nine months later, but despite this, she continued to work at the magazine that was her pride and passion.

Entering the office, Corrie glanced around the room, trying to see if her friend was there, but all she saw was Bessie Briggs, the compositor, who was preparing the next issue for release. Bessie smiled at her, ignoring Corrie's mourning clothes. She had been in mourning for three months and expected to remain in this state for as long.

Corrie knocked on the open door of Christa's office in the basement.

Seeing her, her friend smiled.

Since you rarely knock, I can assume that you want to tell me something important. Come in, Coralie.

Corrie turned to close the door, her starched black skirts rustling.

I need to discuss something with you, because you are my best friend ...

Spread it out, - Christy said, looking at her carefully.

Corrie sat down in a chair and smoothed out the non-existent crease in her skirt.

I try not to think about Laurel's death, but I can't. I just have to get to the bottom of the truth, Krista. I do not believe that Laurel could have killed herself and her one month old baby and I am determined to prove it.

I see how hard you are going through the death of your sister, - looking at her friend with sympathy, Krista said. “And I know you feel guilty about it to some extent. But no matter what you do, you won't get Laurel back.

Yes, sure. But I didn't come to her rescue when she needed me, and now I want justice done. My sister didn't commit suicide, someone else killed her, and I need to find out who did it.

Krista raised one eyebrow.

And how are you going to proceed?

To begin with, I will conduct an investigation in London. I'm pretty good at this, right? The ability to dig for facts and extract information for a gossip column is part of my job.

But gossip and incidents are not the same thing.

And I don't think there is any difference. I intend to carefully re-read all the sister's letters written by her shortly before her death, and look for clues in them. Corrie's eyes lit up. - Then I'll go to the village. I intend to find out who was the father of the child, and then, perhaps, I will understand where to look for answers to the questions why and how she died.

Finding out the name of the father of her child is extremely important, because the sister must have loved this man very much. Even Aunt Agnes did not know who he was - Laurel flatly refused to give his name.

Don't worry about the magazine," Corrie continued, not giving Krista a chance to protest. - I have already found a temporary replacement. If you don't mind, I'll have Lindsey Graham fill in for me while I'm away. - Lindsey was a classmate and friend of Corrie, they studied together at Briarhill Academy. - Lindsey is currently just writing articles on a variety of topics, and I think she is terribly tired of it. Her father is a baron, and he is well-connected, so she will be able to freely appear in society and collect information for a gossip column. I am sure that she will succeed in this field.

Maybe he can, but...

To tell you the truth, I've been thinking about hiring Lindsey since you and Leif were leaving for his horrible island," Corrie said with a smile. - It was almost impossible to manage our magazine without you. I remember how glad I was to have you back.

Leif and Krista did not particularly talk about the history of their acquaintance. The fact that the young heroes Leif and his brother came from an uncharted island north of Scotland, where people still lived like the Vikings, seemed so implausible that it was better not to talk about it. Yes, it didn't matter. Most importantly, Leif and Krista met and fell madly in love with each other. "I wonder if I'll ever meet my one and only?" thought Corrie.

This made her thoughts return to her sister again. In early letters that Laurel sent back from Selkirk, she mentioned that she had met a young man, described his many virtues, and reported how pleased she was to be in his company. Corrie intended to re-read these letters carefully and find any details of the description that would help her identify the person who may have stolen her sister's heart, dishonored her, and then abandoned her.

Corrie wouldn't be surprised if Laurel's baby's father turned out to be the killer.

You must be joking, Coralie? Do you really intend to dig into this terrible story again? exclaimed Agnes Hatfield, seated on a pink velvet couch in the small living room of the London residence of the Whitmores. The entire living room was decorated in white and pink, and its windows overlooked the garden. Three days ago, the black mourning crepe was removed from all the things in the living room.

I know it won't be easy, Aunt Agnes, but I've thought about it a lot and come to the conclusion that I have no choice.

Agnes, whom Corrie called "Aunt" even though she was not related by blood, was a plump, white-haired lady in her early sixties. Before the death of her adored niece, she always smiled. Beside her sat Allison Hatfield, Laurel's cousin, a slender young woman with a straight, pointed nose and pointed chin, dark hair and brown eyes, who listened with obvious emotion to Corrie's words. Allison's parents died of cholera, leaving her in the care of an aging aunt.

After the death of Laurel, both women, taking advantage of the invitation of the Viscount, decided to stay in London, and not return to Selkirk Hall, associated with painful memories.

So you're going to do your own research? asked Aunt Agnes.

Allison didn't say anything. She was a shy young woman and rarely disagreed with what others said. Perhaps for this reason, she accepted Laurel's offer to return with her to Selkirk Hall and pretend to be the mother of the newborn.

Or maybe it was because Allison was tired of being dependent on Aunt Agnes. After all, Laurel in exchange for help with the child promised her a tidy sum.

I didn't believe the official version of what had happened for a moment,” Corrie said, “and after thinking about it all, I decided to act. I intend to get to the bottom of the truth and find out what really happened to my sister. Aunt Agnes, you and Gladys helped Laurel. Now you must help me.

Allison took a lace-trimmed handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. She loved Laurel and had already developed a fondness for her child, Joshua Michael, as did Aunt Agnes, who also pulled out an embroidered handkerchief and blew her powdered nose.

The woman took a deep breath to control herself.

Of course, I will help in any way I can, but perhaps it was my help to your sister that ultimately led to her death.

Corrie looked at her aunt in surprise.

So you don't believe in the suicide version either? But if she did not commit suicide herself, then someone killed her? Laurel and her baby are victims of malice! This is the only explanation.

From the pink velvet upholstered couch came Allison's soft voice.

I can't say for sure...but there's a possibility that Laurel might have been dating someone on that fateful night before she disappeared. She didn't want to tell me where she was going, but she was very excited. And the fact that she took the child with her, I found out only later, when I went to the nursery and saw that the cradle was empty.

Corrie found herself struggling to hold back her tears.

Please... We must not relax.

You're right, of course," said Agnes, and blew her nose. We've already shed a lot of tears. However, tears cannot do justice to my precious lost angel.

Corrie glanced at the dark-haired Allison.

Did you tell investigators that Laurel might have been seeing someone that night?

Then it seemed to me that it was not so important. The constable said she threw herself into the river. All the week before, she had been upset, but she hadn't said anything. When the constable arrived with the sad news, I thought that perhaps ... In a word, I believed in the version of suicide.

Corrie noted to herself that it was necessary to find out what happened to her sister a week before her death.

Allison, you've had three months to think things through. Do you still believe that Laurel committed suicide?

Allison shook her head.

At the time, I was so upset that I couldn't think. I knew Laurel and little Joshua were dead and nothing else mattered to me.

And it does matter to me,” Corrie said. - And for Laurel, apparently, it would have, too. Aunt Agnes, did my sister really never mention her child's father's name?

Yes it is. I am an old woman and did not interfere in the affairs of my niece.

Were there any men in the house?

There were occasionally. Sometimes, for example, Thomas, the son of Squire Morton, came to visit us. And also the vicar's son... Oh my God, what's his name? If I remember, I'll tell you. In any case, this young man also visited us from time to time.

Someone else?

But how? Next to us is Tremaine Castle. Lord Tremaine, when he came to these parts, always paid us a courtesy call. Sometimes his cousin Jason came with him. His brother Charles and his wife Rebecca also stopped by on several occasions.

Lord Tremaine, you say? Corrie asked, frowning.

Well, yes. When he comes here, he always visits us, although he does not live here for a long time.

Grayson Forsyth, Earl Tremaine. The name was reminiscent of a man who had inherited the title of earl five years earlier. Corrie herself had never seen the Earl, who seemed to be not very sociable, but had heard that he was tall and incredibly good-looking. He had a reputation as an inveterate womanizer, and in her gossip column, Corrie repeatedly referred to the rumors of his many love affairs.

In addition, if her memory serves her, the Earl often visited Tremaine Castle, where his brother and his wife lived permanently.

I understand what you're thinking, said Aunt Agnes. - The Count is undoubtedly a very attractive man, but it is true that he is mysterious and gloomy. I can't imagine that Laurel could be interested in such a person, because she was such a cheerful, cheerful and kind-hearted girl. Tears filled her eyes, and she pulled out her handkerchief again.

Corrie's heart sank.

You may be right, but rumor has it that this man is absolutely merciless when it comes to women. And if it occurred to him to seduce an innocent young woman, he would have easily achieved his goal.

Possibly,” said Agnes, trying to contain her emotions. “His cousin Jason is also very handsome and also lives here for a long time ...” Agnes stopped, then added: “Sorry, Coralie, but I just can’t imagine that any of the young people who are in our house could kill our Laurel and her innocent child. You thought about it, didn't you?

Such a possibility cannot be ruled out. Perhaps the person she fell in love with did not reciprocate her feelings. Maybe he didn't want to be forced to marry.

Or perhaps she went out for a walk that evening, and the robbers lay in wait for her. They wanted to rob her, but when they saw that she had no money, they threw her and the child into the river.

Corrie thought of that option, too.

Of course, anything could happen. In general, anything, except that Laurel herself decided to deal with herself and the child.

Coralee is right,” Allison said softly, sitting like a bird on a perch on the edge of the couch. Laurel loved little Joshua very much. She would never harm him. And she so stubbornly concealed the name of his father, that involuntarily comes to my mind ...

Me too,” said Corrie, nodding.

Aunt Agnes gave her a wary look.

I don't want to ask you too many questions, but I think I should. Tell me, Coralie, what are you going to do?

Corrie did not know the exact answer to this question, but she was absolutely sure of one thing: she must do something.

* * *

Excited by what she had discovered, Corrie climbed the stairs and opened the heavy front door of Heart to Heart Magazine. Entering the long, narrow room occupied by the printing press, she noticed Krista coming out of the back room and heading for her office. Corrie hurried after her and closed the door behind her.

Alexander Nikolaevich Ostrovsky

Warm heart

STEP ONE

PERSONS:

Pavlin Pavlinich Kuroslepov, eminent merchant.

Matrena Kharitonovna, his wife.

Parasha, his daughter by his first wife.

Narkis, clerk Kuroslepova (at home).

Gavrilo, clerk (on the bench).

Vasya Shustry, son of a recently bankrupt merchant.

Young woman.

Silane, a distant relative of Kuroslepov, lives in the janitors.

Yard: to the right of the audience is the porch of the master's house, next to it is the door to the room where the clerks live; to the left is an outbuilding, in front of it is a link of the fence, in front of the outbuilding there are bushes, a large tree, a table and a bench, in the background there is a gate.

Summer evening, eighth hour.

The action takes place about 30 years ago in the county town of Kalinov.

Gavrilo(sitting on bench with guitar), Silan (with a broom stands near).

Silane. Did you hear that we have a loss?

Gavrilo. Heard.

Silane. Here she is where I sit, this loss. On this occasion, now, my brothers - gentlemen clerks, I have to be careful: at the ninth hour to go home, and lock the gate. And this, in order to climb over the fence at night, you should leave this institution; and now outside the gate, but to the owner.

Gavrilo. You are an eccentric person, if necessary.

Silane. My business: it would be said, but there, as you know! Now I'm unconditionally angry, that's how angry, trouble!

Gavrilo strums on the guitar. Silan silently looks at his hands. Are you getting there?

Gavrilo. I get a little. (sings and accompanies himself):

No dad, no mom
There is no one at home
There is no one at home
Climb, darling, out the window.

Silane. The song is important.

Gavrilo. A wonderful song, sing in whatever company you want; but here's a bust ... look good! See? does not come out, and on go!

Silane. I think, my dear friend, that it is better for you to give up this occupation.

Gavrilo. Why should I leave him, Uncle Silantius? What I put in the work, you think!

Silane. Much martyrdom to you for him.

Gavrilo. Flour is nothing, but a lot of loss, that's true; because the guitar instrument is brittle.

Silane. If it's off the hook and on the stove, then it's over.

Gavrilo. The end, my brother, the end, money cried.

Silane. About the oven? A? The owner came up with some kind of thing; how he sees this very guitar and now it is on the stove! Wonderful!

Gavrilo(with a sigh). Not all about the stove, Uncle Silantiy, I hurt my head twice.

Silane. And that's enough, it must be funny; because the rumble throughout the house.

Gavrilo. To whom it is funny, but to me ...

Silane. Hurt? Of course, if the edge ...

Gavrilo. Well, at least not by the edge ... Yes, I'm not chasing after this, I have my own head, not bought; But I pay money for guitars.

Forces. And that's true. Your head will hurt, hurt, and heal; but you can't fix the guitar.

Gavrilo. Why don't I clean up! No matter how the owner sees it.

Silane. No! Where! He sleeps by appointment. The night sleeps, the day sleeps; fell asleep completely, I have no idea, there’s no need; does not see under his nose. Waking up, what happened to him in reality, what he sees in a dream, confuses it all together; and his conversation will become indistinct, only mumbling; well, and then it will cost, nothing.

Gavrilo(singing loudly):

No dad, no mom
There is no one at home

Kuroslepov comes out onto the porch.

Silane. Wait a minute! Didn't come out! And then! Get away from sin! Or stop! Snuggle up here; he will not go further than the porch, because he is lazy.

Gavrilo hides.

Kuroslepov and Silan.

Kuroslepov(sits on the porch and yawns for a while). And why did the sky fall? And so it falls, and so it falls. Or is it me in a dream, or what? Guess what is now in the world, morning or evening? And no one, their ashes ... Matryona! Neither at home, nor in the yard, so that they! ... Matryona! That's how scary it is when you don't know what's in the world ... Somehow creepy. And I saw a dream or what? There seems to be a lot of firewood and murina. For what, I say, firewood? They say: fry sinners. Am I in hell? Where did it all fail? And what a fear it is for me today! Is the sky falling down again? And then it falls ... Fathers! Now here are the sparks. And what if suddenly now doomsday! There is nothing smart! All this can very well happen, because ... there was a smell of tar from somewhere and someone sang in a wild voice and the sound was a string or trumpet, or something ... You won’t understand.

(An excerpt from the essay "From the plays of A. N. Ostrovsky" - part of the "Literary Collection" written by Alexander Solzhenitsyn.)

"Hot Heart" (1869)

Returned [Ostrovsky] to comedies - he also returned to the merchant-petty-bourgeois life, the circle of characters, themes and plots. The richest merchant - imperious, absurd, bored from idleness; his cunning wife, already the second; daughter from the first wife, torn into the female will. A rich, cheeky, boorish contractor, a wide reveler (“I have a cellar full of courage”); well-behaved tradesman, in his services; still a merchant's son, a loafer; extortionist; a pure-hearted clerk; zealous janitor with character. Many characters - hastily and catchy features. Quite new: the representative of the authorities is a mayor, in the past an army officer. He is depicted in a sharp caricature (for the obvious sake of public opinion?) - but, by the way, a completely possible type.

Warm heart. Film-performance of 1953 based on the drama by A. Ostrovsky. 1st series

The action does not go beyond everyday life (there is also a mass city festival); many scenes, even before the fuss. (Other incidents or actions are reported to us by correspondence retelling.) Long-winded dialogues, many superfluous (but the language is always alive), and many scenes are already vaudeville, without the author’s former restraint, he is already losing his measure, in places a completely reckless unworthy vaudeville, just for the amusement of the audience; and the brute force of humor reaches both the unfunny and the confusion. Anecdotal characters (but room for acting). The whole confusion is perceived as a deliberate performance, such (with dressing up as robbers) is built in additionally. By the end of all the commotion, the daughter, by free choice, takes an upright clerk as her suitor.

And the name of the play is inappropriate, perhaps with a big stretch.

Warm heart. Film-performance of 1953 based on the drama by A. Ostrovsky. 2nd series

Note. The first productions of the comedy were on January 15, 1869 at the Maly Theater, on January 29 at the Alexandrinsky Theater (the latter was unsuccessful; but then it was staged on this stage repeatedly, with b O greater success). In Soviet times, it was staged at the Moscow Art Theater (1926) and in many provincial theaters. Staged in the post-Soviet: Maly Theater (1992), Theater on Malaya Bronnaya (2007), Sovremennik (2013). There is a film-play (1953, staged by the Leningrad Drama Theater named after A.S. Pushkin).

Pavlin Pavlinich Kuroslepov, eminent merchant.

Matrena Kharitonovna, his wife.

Parasha, his daughter by his first wife.

Narkis, clerk Kuroslepova (at home).

Gavrilo, clerk (on the bench).

Vasya Shustry, son of a recently bankrupt merchant.

Young woman.

Silane, a distant relative of Kuroslepov, lives in the janitors.

Yard: to the right of the audience is the porch of the master's house, next to it is the door to the room where the clerks live; to the left is an outbuilding, in front of it is a link of the fence, in front of the outbuilding there are bushes, a large tree, a table and a bench, in the background there is a gate.

Summer evening, eighth hour.

The action takes place about 30 years ago in the county town of Kalinov.

PHENOMENON FIRST

Gavrilo(sitting on bench with guitar), Silan (with a broom stands near).

Silane. Did you hear that we have a loss?

Gavrilo. Heard.

Silane. Here she is where I sit, this loss. On this occasion, now, my brothers - gentlemen clerks, I have to be careful: at the ninth hour to go home, and lock the gate. And this, in order to climb over the fence at night, you should leave this institution; and now outside the gate, but to the owner.

Gavrilo. You are an eccentric person, if necessary.

Silane. My business: it would be said, but there, as you know! Now I'm unconditionally angry, that's how angry, trouble!

Gavrilo strums on the guitar. Silan silently looks at his hands. Are you getting there?

Gavrilo. I get a little. (sings and accompanies himself):

No dad, no mom

There is no one at home

There is no one at home

Climb, darling, out the window.

Silane. The song is important.

Gavrilo. A wonderful song, sing in whatever company you want; but here's a bust ... look good! See? does not come out, and on go!

Silane. I think, my dear friend, that it is better for you to give up this occupation.

Gavrilo. Why should I leave him, Uncle Silantius? What I put in the work, you think!

Silane. Much martyrdom to you for him.

Gavrilo. Flour is nothing, but a lot of loss, that's true; because the guitar instrument is brittle.

Silane. If it's off the hook and on the stove, then it's over.

Gavrilo. The end, my brother, the end, money cried.

Silane. About the oven? A? The owner came up with some kind of thing; how he sees this very guitar and now it is on the stove! Wonderful!

Gavrilo(with a sigh). Not all about the stove, Uncle Silantiy, I hurt my head twice.

Silane. And that's enough, it must be funny; because the rumble throughout the house.

Gavrilo. To whom it is funny, but to me ...

Silane. Hurt? Of course, if the edge ...

Gavrilo. Well, at least not by the edge ... Yes, I'm not chasing after this, I have my own head, not bought; But I pay money for guitars.

Forces. And that's true. Your head will hurt, hurt, and heal; but you can't fix the guitar.

Gavrilo. Why don't I clean up! No matter how the owner sees it.

Silane. No! Where! He sleeps by appointment. The night sleeps, the day sleeps; fell asleep completely, I have no idea, there’s no need; does not see under his nose. Waking up, what happened to him in reality, what he sees in a dream, confuses it all together; and his conversation will become indistinct, only mumbling; well, and then it will cost, nothing.

Gavrilo(singing loudly):

No dad, no mom

There is no one at home

Kuroslepov comes out onto the porch.

Silane. Wait a minute! Didn't come out! And then! Get away from sin! Or stop! Snuggle up here; he will not go further than the porch, because he is lazy.

Gavrilo hides.

PHENOMENON TWO

Kuroslepov and Silan.

Kuroslepov(sits on the porch and yawns for a while). And why did the sky fall? And so it falls, and so it falls. Or is it me in a dream, or what? Guess what is now in the world, morning or evening? And no one, their ashes ... Matryona! Neither at home, nor in the yard, so that they! ... Matryona! That's how scary it is when you don't know what's in the world ... Somehow creepy. And I saw a dream or what? There seems to be a lot of firewood and murina. For what, I say, firewood? They say: fry sinners. Am I in hell? Where did it all fail? And what a fear it is for me today! Is the sky falling down again? And then it falls ... Fathers! Now here are the sparks. And what if suddenly now doomsday! There is nothing smart! All this can very well happen, because ... there was a smell of tar from somewhere and someone sang in a wild voice and the sound was a string or trumpet, or something ... You won’t understand.

The city clock strikes.

One two three four five (counts without listening), six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

The clock stops after striking eight.

Only? Fifteen!… My God, my God! Lived up! Fifteen! What have they come to! Fifteen. Yes, even a little for our sins! Will there be more! Should go for a drink for every occasion? Yes, they say, it’s worse this time, but you need a person with a clear conscience ... (Screams.) Silantius, hey!…

Silane. Don't scream, I can hear you.

Kuroslepov. Where are you disappearing? This kind of thing starts...

Silane. I’m not disappearing anywhere, I’m standing here, here, I’m protecting you.

Kuroslepov. Did you hear the clock?

Silane. Well, so what?

Kuroslepov. That's it, they say! Is everyone still alive?

Silane. Who?

Kuroslepov. Household members and all Orthodox Christians?

Silane. You feel! Wash yourself up!

Kuroslepov. Have the water sources dried up yet?

Silane. No. Why should they?

Kuroslepov. Where is the wife now?

Silane. She went to visit.

Kuroslepov. Here is such a case now; she owes her husband.

Silane. Well, that's her business.

Kuroslepov. What guests! Found the time! Such fear.

Silane. Which?

Kuroslepov. Everyone heard it was fifteen o'clock.

Silane. Well, fifteen, not fifteen, but the ninth hour, that's for sure ... now it would be time to have dinner, but sleep again.

Kuroslepov. Are you saying dinner?

Silane. Yes, it's inevitable. If there is a situation, it is impossible without it.

Kuroslepov. So that means we're in the evening?

Silane. In the evening.

Kuroslepov. And everything, as always happens? Nothing?

Silane. Why?

Kuroslepov. And I was so scared! You never know, I'm sitting here, what changed my mind. It seemed to me that the final end was beginning. Yes after all and that to tell, whether for a long time.

Silane. What to interpret.

Kuroslepov. Have you left the cathedral?

Silane. Now only.

Kuroslepov(sings). But, like ... Did you lock the gate?

Silane. Locked.

Kuroslepov. Go watch you.

Silane. Walk a little, you better ...

Kuroslepov. Yes, "walk a little!" All your neglect. Everywhere you need your eye. I lost two thousand rubles. Joke! Make money go!

Silane. And you sleep more, and everything will be robbed.

Kuroslepov. Do you really feel sorry for the owner! I'm also with you… wait.