To whom does the magic lamp of time shine? History of a porcelain cup. Part 1We seldom left the house in the winter. Work, study and other drag. In the winter we hid, contracted as a spring, protected forces waiting for summer. Winter, our snowless, gray, Baku winter, it was necessary to endure as suffer the bothered food. But at the end of February when almond trees the first tried on on themselves spring clothes, we came to life.
In cold pink blossoming of almond trees our sapphire summer was guessed. Who did not melt in this sapphire, who did not stick teeth into shameless pulp of the flaring our tomatoes with strong salty cheese and a fragrant basil - reykhany - that not bakinets! Who told: “The summer is a small life“? The summer was our big life smelling of the sea, water-melons and happiness. Mosquitoes, flies and inevitability of study broke against this happiness as glass breaks against marble.
But the earth of a krugl, and therefore a grief and happiness are rolled on it as roll - the field. And here is how - when happiness was behind mountains, and the alarm stood at gate, we had to leave Baku in the winter. To us is to me with mother. I was young, curious and was eager for impressions. The hope still kissed to me the head and promised the azure worlds. The hope shone also in the opinion of mother. We went to Moscow where inspection in the center on Kashirka was necessary to it. Naive my mother hoped for life. Her hopes were not equaled.
Moscow met us by a smoky frost. Dirty - white snowdrifts rose at the railway station. Resinous and ringing air exploded in us and turned into white vapor jets. We went to the house of our old acquaintances - Polina Vasilyevna Raskovskaya and her Adam Osipovich`s husband. There we had to stop. We were familiar so long ago that the question of money for housing could not even arise. We went with gifts and east sweets for which the spouse - pensioners were eager.
Polina Vasilyevna was a woman stately and severe. It vigorously bore seventy years though years sat on her shoulders already tight, curving and trampling down them. Its cheeks flared a senile flush - it was active and retentive. She considered the appeasable and mild husband as “the fantazyorny child“ and in management of him saw sense of the life. Two of them lived. Two their children died babies. Occasionally they were visited by the niece with the grandsons. Then in the apartment unimaginable noise and hubbub was made. “Spinogryza“, - Adam Osipovich friendly grumbled and left in the recess.
Raskovsky reconciled long ago to aggressive character of the spouse and epithets with which she awarded him. The wife carried out its communications with the outside world and was “life“. The husband went woolgathering and was “consciousness“. Unlike Marx`s postulate, life in this case did not define consciousness. They existed in parallel. Everyone was happy in own way. Everyone had the homeland. The wife has sit-round gathering with neigbours on a small bench at the house and kitchen with infinite jars a zakrutok, uzvar, tinctures and preparations, the husband has the Siberian cat Farlaf and Sevres porcelain.
Adam Osipovich also in transit was not in Paris and furthermore in Sevre, but knew each corner in France. He lived imagination. Dumas was his close friend, he drank the strongest black coffee with Balzac, and with Maupassant loved women and arranged orgies. The wife in eyes he called Pauline or ma belle (my beauty), and for eyes the devil and a power-saw bench! The last more corresponded to truth. Polina Vasilyevna was able to saw and itch masterly. Old men lived in perfect harmony!
After arrival mother at once got sick in hospital. Thought - for a week. It appeared - for 2 months, painful and useless. My day turned into a wheel. Early in the morning it was necessary to run on the market behind a cranberry and cottage cheese to prepare for mother a fruit drink and cheesecakes. Polina Vasilyevna shared their unique recipe with me. She with gravity of the captain of a warship watched preparation. A role of a starpom, obviously, ubiquitous Farlaf undertook. He sat on the refrigerator and looked at my cooking.
To a half of the eighth it was necessary to be in hospital. To listen to doctors and to lie mothers, knowing the truth. Fortunately, I was false. It came from excessive imagination. I sincerely assured mother that she will recover, and sincerely trusted in it. Youth is a magic lamp of time. Under its light you trust in the best.
It was necessary to reach hospital through 4 stops of the subway and 5 - by bus. It was awkward to go in the chilled Moscow transport with days in one hand and thermoses to another. I looked like Ivan Poddubny a little, hands and my legs hooted and shivered, and poor my mother was distressed. You love the children more than yourself. It is so simple and correct - to love and feel sorry for the children.
Evenings I whiled away in a small corner of Adam Osipovich. The old man fitted the real andersenovsky lamp over a desk! It was the small shod lamp with opaque glasses and an openwork pig-iron carving. I could not find out where it found it. But when in it the bulb was lit and light soft polukruzhiya laid down on a table and part of a chair, I felt free! The round earth rolling happiness and a grief rolled pleasure to my legs again. These velvet evening hours wanted to be prolonged, there will not come morning, foggy and ruthless yet. Adam Osipovich touched pale fingers a rim on a painted cup.
- Uzorochye - that, an uzorochya what! - he whispered. - Look, Masha (called me Lyamash, but for brevity and conveniences the old man renamed me into Masha), look at a curl! Real Sevr. It does not have the price!
Green this cup with gold curls and blue little peacocks was easier onions peel. Also the saucer was a match for it. Adam Osipovich drank tea only from this cup and assured that the most tasty tea happens exactly in the evening. Still! Under light of an andersenovsky lamp tea cast amber, and peacocks began the ceremonious dance.
Polina Vasilyevna was indignant and was jealous me of the husband! It could be understood. She was indignant because fresh tea was ready since morning and her efforts remained unnoticed. And was jealous because it was more interesting to me to listen to Adam Osipovich, than its infinite complaints to health: “Everything from - for it, rokhl! All obskazh, everything prompt, the child the child, pure punishment!“ Adam Osipovich told
to me about the Sevres porcelain manufactory, about the thinnest glazed dishes and his voice shivered from enthusiasm. In breaks he sipped tea and read me Berenger`s verses. Especially he loved “An old violin“. When reached the lines “It Pulled Out a Violin - and Broke!“, waved a hand and sadly propped up it a forehead. These minutes he resembled Berenger - small baldish and dense.
It seldom left the house. His one leg was crippled and crookedly sprained under itself. It as well as possible supplemented its image of the room scientist with a cane. The Sevres cup was presented to it by the front friend, and the gift became Adam Osipovich`s punishment. He got sick with porcelain, he to them raved, he knew everything about porcelain.