Rus Articles Journal

“Be not hairsplitters, my friends!“ or Who drew a lilac on a ceiling? Part 2

Karl Ivanovich, of course, does not come For the next day. Does not come and the day after tomorrow. The father swears so that neighbors close ears. The father threatens to find immediately the new master, let not such gifted, but conscientious. Mother in thought. She wants the house - the fairy tale, but not standard repair.

Carlos appears in four days. In a gray suit, a pink shirt, hair stick out less usual, and in hands a bouquet of gillyflowers. He ceremoniously presents a bouquet to mother and also ceremoniously shakes hands with the father, then changes clothes and gets to work. I spin with a row.

Carlos sets up points on a nose tip and begins to conjure. On the huge leaf replacing a palette it mixes pink, blue, claret and violet paints. Adds slightly - slightly white and Xing - black. Separately dissolves green, lemon and blue paints. His fingers redden, become blue, turn green, and I as bewitched look at this color game.

- Here, look, karankushik, - Karl Ivanovich mutters, - if to mix blue and yellow paints - will be green and if red and blue, then violet.

- And it that? - I give a hand to nebesno - blue paint, such bright that to eyes from it it is sick.

- It is the Berlin azure. Do not touch. You will soil handles, mother will scold.

I as if verses listen to unknown names of paints: sharlakhovo - black, Indian yellow, a dark carmine, color of the Marseilles tile. Carlos is seen by my admiration and continues with inspiration:

- Here you will wake up in the morning, you will look at a ceiling, and there the lilac always blossoms. And light from it such good. To Carlos you will remember?!

- I will be! - at once I exhale, and Carlos be touched even more.

- My angel! I will write such garden on a ceiling to you!

The room is entered by mother, approvingly looks at us, puts before Karlusha a glass to tea, and before me a plate with sweet cherry and leaves. Karl Estenvolde knows the work and does not need councils!

There pass several days. During this time Karl Ivanovich uncountable number of times called himself an old monkey and the fumbler at whom it is unknown from where hands grow, pulled out at himself shreds of hair, shouted that “everything is no good“ and “it is time for it on a dump!“ In rage it was inconsolable, neither father`s admonitions, nor mother`s playing a piano which Carlos very much appreciated helped. Happened, mother calls him to have dinner, and he refuses and asks timidly:

- You do not worry, I am not hungry and if you have time, play “The pathetic sonata“ of Beethoven.

Mother never refused, knew that in especially favourite places Karl Ivanovich began to sing along with enthusiasm.

By the end of work from Karlusha tone is more and more heard “It is white to a nezha“, and it means that it is happy and we will be met by a lilac garden soon!

And here, at last, moment of our admiration and unconditional triumph of Karl Ivanovich! Walls of my small room, beginning from a floor frostily - violet, pass into lilac and become gradually lighter. About a ceiling they it is already gentle - pink as the person zardevsheysya brides. And here ceiling! Garden! Lilac ball! Magnificent and gentle, kipenno - white and dymchato - lilac, with emerald hearts of leaves! Lilac clusters, heavy, hard, all flowers and shades: from faintly - blue and a pre-trial detention center - pink to densely - violet, almost claret and dazzling white! Miracle!

After first ours “Ah!“ the second follows. We notice that flowers are made not randomly, and carefully and elaborately. With that privolnost behind which reasonable and thin calculation is guessed. Edges of a ceiling are written out by the most dark and heavy brushes of a late Iranian lilac with eleven (by all means eleven!) petals. It is replaced by luxury of a lilac of the ordinary, captivating wealth paints. It is our lilac lovely to heart at which it is so interesting to find a flower with five petals then by all means to eat it, having made a wish! Closer to the center it is replaced by a blue Hungarian lilac with the extended brushes. Then a pre-trial detention center - pink, as if a bell of a sea shell. And at last, at the chandelier, a ball of flowers clusters of a white lilac, with greenish cams of buds crown.

Rattle, fanfares! Be scattered by a trill, flutes! Glorify spring! Welcome a lilac on a ceiling!

- Karl Ivanovich! You, you … genius! - mother ready to burst into tears mutters.

- Thanks, Karl Ivanovich, God grant health. Clever fingers, gold! - enthusiastically my not sentimental father repeats.

Intoxicated from Carlos`s praises tycht itself a finger in a breast and repeats:

- Told - I will make, and made! Estenvolde keeps the word! And you … When you come, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow … Be not hairsplitters, my friends! Well, how, karankushik, it is pleasant? - it inclines to me.

I cannot tell words. I cannot embrace him. My hands clasp only part of his splodgy dressing gown, and I utykatsya by the person somewhere to the area of Karlushiny knees.

- My angel! - it lifts me on hands, and the thin tear shivers in his eyes. - On health, for luck! You will remember to Carlos?! You will not forget?

... I remember, Karl Ivanovich! I remember everything. Here also wrote … Thank you …