Who wrote Nikita and Mikitka. IN

In the boyar estate

Dim morning light filtered through a frost-covered window made of pieces of mica. In a hotly heated bedroom, on a tiled bed covered with a carpet, a red-cheeked boy in a white blouse was tossing about in his sleep. A skinny “uncle” with a goatee beard leaned over him and gently patted him on the shoulder:

Princess, Nikita Petrovich, it’s time to get up! The horses are already harnessed. The road is long, and we need to arrive in Moscow before dark. By evening they will put logs and bars across the streets, then no one will be allowed through.

I will not go! Go away, you old fool!

Why did you say an obscene word? How can you not go! This is a royal order! Uncle Boris Fedorovich will be angry if you don’t come!

And I said - I won’t go! In my opinion it will be!

Silently, in woolen stockings, a plump nanny in a red sundress and a bunny padded vest-sleeveless jacket floated up.

Why are you, Princess Nikita Petrovich, stubborn? - she began in a sing-song voice. - Stop kicking your legs! After all, this is your old faithful uncle Filatich. He will take you to Moscow. Let me give you warm stockings and boots, so that, God forbid, you don’t catch a cold in the cold.

The nanny lifted and sat down the sleepy boy, and Filatich stood nearby and said:

We will harness runner skates with bells to the sled... We will sit tighter and smell like a bear's cavity, so as not to fall out at the turns, and we will ride with a jellied bell through the snow, along the first track, to the side, not near, not far, to golden-topped Moscow, which stretches on a high hill, between the Yauza River and the Moscow River...

But I won’t go to Moscow! - the boy repeated. - Today Mikitka and I will go into the forest, we’ll catch bullfinches with a net... Mikitka will teach me to play the shepherd’s pity pipe. He also poured water on the ice slide. Now he and I will ride down the hill on a sled...

How can one disobey when Father Tsar Ivan Vasilyevich himself ordered the boyar sons to learn to read and write! Now they will assign you a sexton with a pointer, and next to you will sit not just any ordinary people, but also people like you, sons of boyars.

Let the sextons learn! And I will go to war on horseback and be a commander!

You are our handsome boy, black-eyed! - the nanny assented, and at the same time she continued to dress the boy. - Vestimo! Why does a governor need a letter? But what can you do when you great sovereign ordered! He's thinking up who knows what.

The nanny washed and combed the boy’s hair, then, placing him on his knees next to her, she prayed in front of an old, dark icon in a silver robe. Together with Uncle Filatich, she led Nikita up the stairs to the princess’s bedchamber to show him off before leaving for Moscow. And the boy kept saying:

If Mikitka goes with me to Moscow and takes a pipe and a net for bullfinches, then I will go too. And I won’t go without him for any gingerbread! I'll run out of the way.

“Through a frost-covered window made of pieces of mica, dim morning light came through. In a hotly heated bedroom, on a tiled bed covered with a carpet, a red-cheeked boy in a white blouse was tossing about in his sleep. The skinny “uncle” Filytch with a goatee leaned over him and gently patted him on the shoulder...”

Mikitka got lost

Soon Mikitka found himself on the high bank of a river, wide, covered with snow, shining silver under the bright rays of the sun. Carts stretched up and down the ice, horsemen galloped, converging on the gates of the reddish wall of the Kremlin and further on to the walls and towers of Kitay-Gorod. Especially many foot and horse warriors and archers in bright blue and red caftans with arquebuses or reeds on their shoulders were seen everywhere.

- Hey, boy, what are you looking at? Hurry up and don't fall behind! It’s not even an hour - you’ll get lost. The city is such a city: you walk from outpost to outpost and you will sigh more than once!

Mikitka woke up. A tall young man with a light brown beard walked past him, dashing his hat back over his ear, and, loudly clanking his chain, dragging a shaggy brown bear behind him. The sleigh that Mikitka was following was already far ahead. He rushed to catch up with them, looking back with curiosity at the tame bear.

The convoys turned onto the ice. On the shore, on both sides of the road, open stalls were closely stuck together. What was sold there: painted gingerbread cookies in the shape of horses, carved toys, wooden cups, clay bowls, frozen apples, roasted nuts, mittens, hats, salted fish and hot rolls - everything a passerby asked for.

But the crowd here was solid, people poured in in both directions.

With difficulty Mikitka caught up with his sleigh and, grabbing the shaft with his hand, walked, no longer lagging behind. We drove up to a stone gate with open iron doors. Countless horses and pedestrians had piled up the snow here so much that the sleigh had to crawl along logs placed closely across the path. The horse, straining from the effort, barely pulled out the sleigh and rode under the gate.

Behind them, on the sides, crowded bearded archers with berdyshes - axes on long, man-sized ax handles. They scanned the moving crowd with prickly eyes. It was especially crowded under the gate.

Mikitka was wiped off the sleigh. With difficulty, he finally made his way forward, looking for his sleigh.

Inside the city, in the narrow streets, the sleigh moved faster, and the people almost ran. To the right and left were counters with elegant and outlandish goods: dozens of patterned morocco boots hung on the wall, and under them, on trays, all sorts of women's and children's boots, boots, felt boots, and funny boots, and saddles, and horse harnesses, and saddlebags , skillfully sewn from multi-colored pieces of leather. And then - scarves of all colors, with flowers and patterns, and mittens and mittens.

End of introductory fragment.

In the boyar estate

Dim morning light filtered through a frost-covered window made of pieces of mica. In a hotly heated bedroom, on a tiled bed covered with a carpet, a red-cheeked boy in a white blouse was tossing about in his sleep. A skinny “uncle” with a goatee beard leaned over him and gently patted him on the shoulder:

Princess, Nikita Petrovich, it’s time to get up! The horses are already harnessed. The road is long, and we need to arrive in Moscow before dark. By evening they will put logs and bars across the streets, then no one will be allowed through.

I will not go! Go away, you old fool!

Why did you say an obscene word? How can you not go! This is a royal order! Uncle Boris Fedorovich will be angry if you don’t come!

And I said - I won’t go! In my opinion it will be!

Silently, in woolen stockings, a plump nanny in a red sundress and a bunny padded vest-sleeveless jacket floated up.

Why are you, Princess Nikita Petrovich, stubborn? - she began in a sing-song voice. - Stop kicking your legs! After all, this is your old faithful uncle Filatich. He will take you to Moscow. Let me give you warm stockings and boots, so that, God forbid, you don’t catch a cold in the cold.

The nanny lifted and sat down the sleepy boy, and Filatich stood nearby and said:

We will harness runner skates with bells to the sled... We will sit tighter and smell like a bear's cavity, so as not to fall out at the turns, and we will ride with a jellied bell through the snow, along the first track, to the side, not near, not far, to golden-topped Moscow, which stretches on a high hill, between the Yauza River and the Moscow River...

But I won’t go to Moscow! - the boy repeated. - Today Mikitka and I will go into the forest, we’ll catch bullfinches with a net... Mikitka will teach me to play the shepherd’s pity pipe. He also poured water on the ice slide. Now he and I will ride down the hill on a sled...

How can one disobey when Father Tsar Ivan Vasilyevich himself ordered the boyar sons to learn to read and write! Now they will assign you a sexton with a pointer, and next to you will sit not just any ordinary people, but also people like you, sons of boyars.

Let the sextons learn! And I will go to war on horseback and be a commander!

You are our handsome boy, black-eyed! - the nanny assented, and at the same time she continued to dress the boy. - Vestimo! Why does a governor need a letter? But what can you do when the great sovereign himself ordered it! He's thinking up who knows what.

The nanny washed and combed the boy’s hair, then, placing him on his knees next to her, she prayed in front of an old, dark icon in a silver robe. Together with Uncle Filatich, she led Nikita up the stairs to the princess’s bedchamber to show him off before leaving for Moscow. And the boy kept saying:

If Mikitka goes with me to Moscow and takes a pipe and a net for bullfinches, then I will go too. And I won’t go without him for any gingerbread! I'll run out of the way.

Vasily Yan

Nikita and Mikitka

In the boyar estate

Dim morning light filtered through a frost-covered window made of pieces of mica. In a hotly heated bedroom, on a tiled bed covered with a carpet, a red-cheeked boy in a white blouse was tossing about in his sleep. A skinny guy with a goatee, Uncle Filytch, leaned over him and gently patted him on the shoulder:

Princess, Nikita Petrovich, it’s time to get up! The horses are already harnessed. The road is long, and we need to arrive in Moscow before dark. By evening they will put logs and bars across the streets, then no one will be allowed through.

I will not go! Go away, you old fool!

Why did you say an obscene word? How can you not go! This is a royal order! Uncle Boris Fedorovich will be angry if you don’t come!

And I said - I won’t go! In my opinion it will be!

Silently, in woolen stockings, a plump nanny in a red sundress and a bunny padded vest-sleeveless jacket floated up.

Why are you, Princess Nikita Petrovich, stubborn? - she began in a sing-song voice. - Stop kicking your legs! After all, this is your old faithful uncle Filatich. He will take you to Moscow. Let me give you warm stockings and boots, so that, God forbid, you don’t catch a cold in the cold.

The nanny lifted and sat down the sleepy boy, and Filatich stood nearby and said:

We will harness runner skates with bells to the sled... We will sit tighter and smell like a bear's cavity, so as not to fall out at the turns, and we will ride with a jellied bell through the snow, along the first track, to the side, not near, not far, to golden-topped Moscow, which stretches on a high hill, between the Yauza River and the Moscow River...

But I won’t go to Moscow! - the boy repeated. - Today Mikitka and I will go into the forest, we’ll catch bullfinches with a net... Mikitka will teach me to play the shepherd’s pity pipe. He also poured water on the ice slide. Now he and I will ride down the hill on a sled...

How can one disobey when Father Tsar Ivan Vasilyevich himself ordered the boyar sons to learn to read and write! Now they will assign you a sexton with a pointer, and next to you will sit not just any ordinary people, but also people like you, sons of boyars.

Let the sextons learn! And I will go to war on horseback and be a commander!

You are our handsome boy, black-eyed! - the nanny assented, and at the same time she continued to dress the boy. - Vestimo! Why does a governor need a letter? But what can you do when the great sovereign himself ordered it! He's thinking up who knows what.

The nanny washed and combed the boy’s hair, then, placing him on his knees next to her, she prayed in front of an old, dark icon in a silver robe. Together with Uncle Filatich, she led Nikita up the stairs to the princess’s bedchamber to show him off before leaving for Moscow. And the boy kept saying:

If Mikitka goes with me to Moscow and takes a pipe and a net for bullfinches, then I will go too. And I won’t go without him for any gingerbread! I'll run out of the way.

In Mikitka's hut

The boyar estate “Merry Stumps”, where Nikita lived, is located on a hill, among an old forest, on the bank of a winding river. The estate was surrounded by a high wall of sharpened logs. The oak gates with an intricate roof were always locked. Large, angry dogs on a chain guarded the estate both from animals - wolves and bears - that often wandered in the forest, and from unkind people from the main road.

In the middle of the hill stood an elegant boyar mansion with a painted and carved porch, with a comb and cheerful cockerels on top of the plank roof. The estate was visible from afar, and the new log mansions glittered in the sun with mica windows with intricate lead binding.

On the sides of the boyar's house were lined human huts for housing servants, barns, stables with a hay barn above, cages, a cattle yard with stalls and sheds for both hay and firewood, and to the side, separated by a smaller fence, there was a special courtyard where there were threshing floors, a barn for storing bread and high stacks of not yet threshed sheaves.

At the edge of the estate, just above the river, there was a blackened blacksmith shop; right there, on the dam that blocked the river, forming a dam, an old mill rustled with its restless wheels. Near the very shore there were bathhouses - soap houses - in the form of black log houses covered with turf for slaves.

A peasant boy, Mikitka, lived in one of them.

Early in the morning, even before dawn, in a dimly lit hut, a long thin splinter stuck into a fireplace was burning, crackling and smoking. Hissing, the embers went out, falling off the splinter, falling into a clay bowl of water. Throughout the long night, Mikitka’s mother, silent, hunched over, with a mournful face, sat near a wooden comb with a tow and, spitting on her fingers, twisted the thread. The spindle rustled and jumped pitifully, sometimes the mother sang a song, viscous, like the howling of a blizzard outside the window:

What are you doing, little ray,
You're burning dimly
Why don't you flare up?
Are you, little torch,
Wasn't it in the oven?..
- I was, I was in the oven
Tonight...

When the small window, covered with oiled canvas, glowed with a dim spot, the mother sighed and picked up the spindle that was dancing on a thread on the bench:

So the morning has come and the day is coming!

She stood up, pushed back the comb and left the hut. Two red hens, ruffled under the stove, perked up. The rooster, having shaken himself off, walked importantly into the middle of the hut and, flapping his wings, sang “crow”. The lame lamb, lying with the chickens, got up, walked, clattering its hooves, around the hut and, not finding its owner, bleated restlessly.

The mother returned with an armful of brushwood and, leaving the door open, fanning the coals, which had been covered with ash in the evening, began to light the bulky stove that occupied half of the hut.

There was a strong knock on the window. Someone shouted from the street:

Hey mistress! Hey Vasilisa! Go outside. The old noblewoman sent me before you.

What other trouble has befallen us? - the peasant woman whispered, putting down the poker.

Throwing on a winter coat, she ran out of the hut.

It’s me, Filatich, the stirrup of the late Prince Pyotr Fedoritch. Didn't you recognize Ali? You've been blessed. Our prince Nikita is going to Moscow to study literacy and pestered the noblewoman that he wants to take your Mikitka with him: “I won’t go, he says, without him, I’ll run away from the road.”

What did he do with it? - Vasilisa began to scream. - What happiness this is! They will bring my Mikitka to Moscow and give it into the wrong hands! And I will never see him again! It would be better if he died at home - at least his grave would remain! There would be a place to cry for him and be killed with maternal longing! Here it is, our servile lot: at the will of the boyar, we are torn away from our native home! What will happen to poor Mikitka now! Who will pity him!

The royal order!.. Oh, our grief! - Vasilisa exclaimed, clasping her hands and crying even louder.

And Filatich calmly continued:

Well, let's say, the royal order! What do you have to be afraid of? The order says that smart kids in churches should learn to read and write. The king has a large kingdom growing. Now he needs a lot of clerks and clerks. There is more land, but no more literate people. Who will count the tributes and quitrents? Our prince Nikita is also roaring and roaring: he doesn’t want to go to study in Moscow, but he’ll still go today.

Well, let him go, but why is he dragging my Mikitka?

Your Mikitka is a smart guy: he will set a snare, and weave a net, and he knows how to play the pipe. His grandfather Kasyan Gavrilych taught him everything. I don't know what! So why should he sit at home? Let him go with the prince: next to him he will not only be his little boy, but he will also learn to read and write... Hey, Mikitka, come here!

Mikitka came out to the threshold of the hut with tousled blond hair and eyes shining, like those of a frightened animal.

Well, good fellow, get ready for the road! Princess Nikita Petrovich is going to Moscow and taking you with him. This is the will of the boyars. The old noblewoman ordered you to get a sheepskin coat and a pair of bast shoes! - Filych showed an old, patched sheepskin coat and new bast shoes. - Hurry up and cover yourself up! We'll be leaving soon.

Mikitka hugged his mother’s neck and wiped away the tears on her face with his palms:

And why are you, mama, killing yourself ahead of time? Why should Moscow be afraid? I even met a mother bear and her cubs in the forest, and I wasn’t afraid: I climbed onto a birch tree and sat there until she left. And if I walk next to Nikita Petrovich, I’ll start spying with one eye on how he teaches reading and writing, and I’ll learn it myself.

I’m starting to publish my favorite children’s books, which played a role in the development of my theme! ;) The first thing that came to hand in the closet was

V. Yan.
Nikita and Mikitka
Background: the boyar's son Nikita was ordered to be taken to Moscow, where the tsar ordered the boyar's children to teach literacy. His servant Mikitka went with him.

NIKITA STARTS A DIFFICULT JOB
Prince Nikita spent the evening in Marya Grigorievna’s upper room, listening to the songs and fairy tales of the hay girls, eating pancakes and pies, and did not remember how they put him to sleep on the bench.
However, in the morning Nikita did not have to sleep as much as he liked, as he was used to in his native estate. Uncle Filatich pushed him away:
- Boris Fedorovich is being demanded to come to you! Get up! Now!
- Oh, I won’t go! - Nikita mumbled. “I want to sleep!” Filatich did not persuade the boy, as usual, but shook him and croaked in a deliberately scary voice:
- Leave your exercises! You are now in the hut of the Tsar’s guardsman Boris Fedorovich Godunov! They don’t like to joke here and they won’t bother with you. If Boris Fedorovich ordered, then immediately run to appear before his bright eyes!
Nikita's sleep passed away at once, and without arguing he allowed Filatich to dress him, wash him with cold water over a wooden basin and comb his hair with a fish tooth comb. Then Filytich quickly led the boy along the stairs and covered passages to another, adjacent hut.
They crossed the high wooden threshold and entered a room with a narrow long table. On the sides of him, on the benches, sat several important boyars wearing rich sable fur coats and tall beaver hats.
In the back of the room, near the red corner, a very young boyar with black eyes was sitting on a stoltse (stool). He spoke, welcoming the guests, who were sitting motionless and silent:
- Our children need book training. They don’t know how to say or act in a written, scientific way. And they will have to perform the sovereign's service. Our kingdom has doubled in size and is still growing and multiplying. Our boys will have to be both rulers and governors, be able to read royal decrees and write their signature on papers.
- Let's get things done! - said the guests.
- If they have to deal with foreigners, then, having grown up, they should know what to tell them and what to keep silent about.
- What is true is true!
- Therefore, the great sovereign Ivan Vasilyevich... - At the mention of the tsar’s name, the boyar stood up, and all the guests rose from their seats and sedately took off their fur hats, stood, then sat down on the benches and pulled their hats back down.
- Therefore, the great sovereign ordered the boyars’ young sons to be collected and given to learned dobroscribes, so that they would teach them book reading and skillful writing. First of all, I called on you to bring your sons and grandchildren to teach them to read and write. I called the orphans and my pet, Prince Nikita. Here, isn't he standing?
“Bow from the waist!” Filych whispered to Nikita and pushed him in the back.
Nikita bowed from the waist and took off his hat. One of the guests said:
We also brought our fellows. In the hallway they are waiting for your order.
“Come on, my dear,” Boris Fedorovich turned to Filytch, “click for the kids to come in here!”
Filatich opened the low oak door and made a sign with his hand. One after another, several nine- to ten-year-old boys in long-skirted caftans entered the room, holding fur hats in their hands.
- Let the master come in too.
A stocky man with a stern face and long shoulder-length hair entered the room, clearing his throat. With his floor-length black clothes, he looked like a monk. On the side of a wide leather belt hung a copper inkwell and a bunch of goose feathers tied with red woolen thread. Under his arm he carried several books bound in yellow leather and a pointed fur hat.
Having bowed first to the host, then to the guests, the master proclaimed in a chant:
- Peace and beauty to this house! Long live the owner Boris Fedorovich and his illustrious hostess, the young noblewoman Maria Grigorievna! I came immediately on your order, your faithful servant, Kuzmishka the literate. Tell me, how can I serve to earn your favor?
Boris Fedorovich, carefully examining the teacher who entered, said:
- I was looking for a kind clerk, skilled in teaching literacy, reading and writing, so that he would be of some use to the children. Otherwise, the boy will study for a year, or two, or three, and when he leaves the master, he can barely wander with his finger only through one book he has memorized, and another, unfamiliar, and does not know how to read. Knowledgeable people pointed out to me that you, Kuzma, are an excellent scholar and scribe. Will you undertake to teach our children?
- I would be glad to teach, but small children, especially boyars, do not like obedience. If your honor allows me to have a rod and a whip - a belt twisted with a whip - against sloths and rude people, then I will undertake to teach the children. The rod does not harm your health, even if it hits, it does not break bones, and it sets children aside from anger. The mind drives a belt into the heads of children, and makes children obedient to their parents...
The owner winked at the sedately sitting parents with a sly eye and, looking at the boys, fearfully lined up along the wall, said:
- Let it be as you say! Teach them all kinds of goodness and try to make them want to learn from books. I have a hut in my yard for you, benches, a table, shelves, and books have already been prepared in it. You go to this hut and, with God, begin a difficult but bright task.
The teacher bowed and said:
- Allow, sir, your little man, Master Kuzmishka, to say another tearful prayer. Order your housekeeper to pour out the stock from the pickled fruits and give out the beef or pork from your blessed meal.
- You will get this.
- With all these we wish you waterfowl, milk, lilac sour cream, and oil made from hemp seeds for the lamp...
Boris Fedorovich at first knitted his eyebrows, but immediately his face brightened, and he calmly said:
- You will have birds, and wood oil, and sour cream, just make the guys smart and bookish. Then he turned to the boys: - Nikita, come here!
Nikita timidly approached. The boyar took out from his bosom a skillfully turned and brightly painted stick and placed it in the boy’s hand:
“Here’s a pointer for you, so that you don’t move or stain the light pages of the precious book with your dirty finger, but point out the letters in it with this deliberate pointer.”
All the fathers also took out their sticks, wrapped in colored scarves in advance for the solemn day, and each gave his son a pointer and, in addition, a honey gingerbread in the shape of a skate, doused with sugar, so that learning would begin sweeter.
“Listen to your new teacher, master Kuzma Demyanich, and do not complain about his heavy hand if it whips you!” the fathers said. “Remember: “The root of learning is bitter, but its fruits are sweet!”
Then, bowing to Boris Fedorovich, the guys left the hut in a crowd along with their new master.

SCHOOL "GOAT"
Mikitka, clinging to the cart and standing behind him on the runners next to Filatich, arrived in the Kremlin, to the boyar courtyard of Boris Fedorovich.
Filytich led Mikitka into the people's hut, where the cooks were preparing food for numerous courtyard people. Here Filych, sitting down on the bench, placed Mikitka in front of him:
- Well, tell me, tell me: was it your own will or someone else’s cunning that you ended up with the buffoons?
Mikitka told how in Moscow the crowd wiped him off the sleigh, how he ended up at the mill, which is near Neglinny Pond, how he froze, and IIronka Spolokh took him off, took him away on the back of a bear and warmed him up.
“I wouldn’t get lost in the forest,” Mikitka said, sobbing. I know all the paths in the forest. And Moscow is great. I asked the archers how to get to Princess Nikita Petrovich, and they chased me: “Go where you came from!”
“I’m afraid that you’ll be whipped for running away... Don’t forget that you don’t have your own servile will,” said Filatich.
- You, Filatich, have pity on him and don’t whip him! - the cooks interceded.
“Only for the sake of your mother and grandfather Kasyan - he and I went hunting together more than once - I’ll defend you before the boyar.” You will have a special job here: you won’t have to play the pipe, but you will start going with the other guys to the learned clerk and do whatever he orders. Now climb onto the stove and lie there like a cockroach, so that no one can hear you!
Early in the morning, the cooks fed Mikitka, and then Filytich took him with him to the porch of the boyar’s house.
Several boys came here, among them Nikita. Everyone walked in a crowd through the courtyard, holding handwritten books wrapped in red scarves in their hands. Their voices rang loudly in the quiet frosty air:
- Our angry master! He threatens to teach us, sons of princes, like simple sons of priests - with a rod and a whipping belt! I won't give in to him!
- And I won’t allow you to whip me! Let him flog the slaves!
In the depths of the yard everyone stopped rocking a small hut. The window, covered with snow, glowed dimly. The guys went up to the porch, knocking their feet, kicking the snow. But everyone somehow became shy, their voices became muffled, they began to speak in whispers. They knocked on the door. It was opened by a fat woman coming out with buckets.
- Come in, long-awaited guests, welcome doves! she said in a sing-song voice. - He sits in the hut and fixes goose feathers.
In the entryway they pushed open a low, creaky door. They entered a small room and stopped at the entrance. In the red corner hung three old icons, illuminated by a burning lamp. Long benches lined the wall. In the middle there was a long narrow table with two boards. The mica window, low and wide, with frozen ice, let in the dim singing.
A white wooden shelf was nailed to the wall, where handwritten books lay. Under it hung two belt whips and a bunch of birch branches. To one side at the entrance stood a wooden tub of water on a stool; a wooden ladle was floating in it.
The teacher in a fur hat and sheepskin coat sat on a bench in the red corner. On the table in front of him lay big Book bound in leather and with many white goose feathers. As if not paying attention to the guys who entered, he took the feathers one by one and cut them obliquely with a sharp knife.
The boys stood, looking at the teacher with curiosity and nudging each other with their elbows. Someone chuckled. Filytich whispered to them:
- Bow to master Kuzma Demyanich and say a welcoming word.
- Hello, Kuzma Demyanich! - the boys shouted randomly.
The teacher slowly began to turn his stern face with a stiff, straight beard and stared at the guys. Leaning on the table with his fists, he just as slowly, without taking his eyes off, began to rise and suddenly barked:
- Take off your hat when you enter your teacher!
A long flexible cane flashed in his hand and quickly hit the boys’ heads and shoulders. Everyone hastily pulled off their hats and bowed to the waist.
Then clearly, in a sing-song voice, the teacher began to say:
- Enter the school with prayer and leave it in the same way, praying. Turn your face to the holy images. Make the sign of the cross three times and bow to the ground. Come live! - he exclaimed, striking his cane and watching as all the boys knelt down and touched their foreheads to the floor three times.
- Stand in a row on the floorboard! Those who are old will be further away from me, and the little ones, the little ones, will be closer. And who will you be? - the teacher turned to Mikitka, who stopped near the door.
- I am the servant of Prince Nikita Petrovich.
- This is my slave! - Nikita confirmed, pouting.
- So, if you are a slave, stay near the door. You will give me a hut of revenge and a tub of stagnant water. And you, boyar sons, hang your hats on wooden nails and sit decorously on the bench! “He tapped his bent index finger on the forehead of the boy who sat down on the edge and said: “Take care of the place indicated to you by your teacher, do not take someone else’s place and do not oppress your comrades!”
The master sat down in his place in the red corner, at the end of the table, opened a large handwritten book and waited until all the boys also put handwritten books in front of them and pointers next to them. One boy opened a book and put a pointer in it. The teacher immediately hit him on the ear with the end of the cane:
- Keep your books well and do not put index trees in them. Do not unbend your books too much and do not unnecessarily sort out the pages in them. If someone does not protect a book, he will not guard his soul.
The boys sat motionless, looking warily at the teacher. Everything about him seemed unusual: his always stern, calm face, his flexible cane in his hand, and the words he spoke in a special way, like in church.
“I will elect one of you to be the headman and bring you into obedience to him.” You will be the headman! - He poked his cane into the chest of the eldest boy, who was sitting on the edge. - When leaving the hut, hand over the books you brought with you to the headman. “And you,” he said to the headman, “carefully place them in the prepared place on this shelf.” In the morning, when your squad arrives, give each of his little books.
It got dark. The teacher took a wooden candlestick with a tallow candle from the shelf, lit it and placed it at the end of the table:
“If you all follow my orders, you will never be beaten by me.” Now, with your ear attentive, listen quietly. The first lesson begins. Sit quietly, don’t idle, don’t laugh, don’t move your eyes this way and that, as if plagued by the plague.
The teacher placed a smoothly planed white board in front of him and wrote a large letter “A” on it with charcoal.
- This visible sign “az” begins for you first. Then my decree will apply to you for the rest. What is the name of this sign? Tell!
- Az! - the boys exclaimed.
- And this other visible sign is “beeches,” - And the teacher wrote the letter “B” next to it on the board. - With this “beeches” sign you will overcome the cunning of science. Repeat loudly after me: “buki” and “az” are pronounced “6a”...
All the boys shouted loudly:
- “Buki” and “az” are pronounced “ba”!
Mikitka, standing at the door, moving his shining, inquisitive eyes, listened attentively to everything that the teacher said and what the boys repeated after him; but at first he still did not understand well what the “competent trick” was here. “Will the sons of the boyars be able to master this trick,” he thought, “but I won’t be able to overcome this letter?” He watched everything and stood motionless, although his back began to ache from standing motionless, and a cold breath came from the door.
Some boys soon got tired of repeating after the teacher his instructions: “Lead” and “az” “va”, “verb”, and “az” “ha”! Nikita yawned loudly, and Utemish, poorly understanding what the teacher was saying, tried to repeat his words. Nikita closed his eyes: sleep overcame him. The neighbor pinched him. Nikita jumped up and screamed. The teacher's cane immediately hit Nikita and his neighbor on the heads.
Kuzma Demyanich shouted:
“I hear a noise and a useless cry, and for this your crying will be tearful!” Anyone who does not learn this lesson will not receive a free exit from school. And whoever persists in evil will lie on the school goat.
- And where he? - Nikita asked.
- Put everything on my goat. However, so that you all will be afraid, I will first put the slave’s son on a goat.
The teacher moved a small bench away from the wall. Rolling his eyes fiercely, he grabbed Mikitka by the shoulder and pushed him towards the bench:
- Sit upright, with your legs on both sides. Lower your arms too and now grab the bench.
Mikitka lay down on his stomach on the bench, wrapping his arms and legs around it. Kuzma Demyanich took the belt whip from the wall, rolled up his wide sleeves to his elbows and began to smack Mikitka on the back with a quack. He, frightened, not daring to jump up, squirmed with each blow, and finally shouted:
- Oh, mommy!
And the teacher, striking, said:
- Listen, boys, like a school goat bleating. He bleated once, he bleated twice, and his head cleared up. And if he is silent on the goat, it means he persists in evil. And although I know you as the sons of boyars, I will rip you all out like puppies. I will rip out, by all means, like this little goat of Sidorov, and you will also bleat, and sob, and call for your mother. Old people wisely taught: “For a beaten man they give two unbeaten men, and even then they don’t take it”...
Suddenly Utemish, banging his fist on the table, shouted:
- Why are you beating the boy?.. You shouldn’t be beating him!
Then Nikita cried loudly and, choking with tears, also shouted:
- Don't hit Mikitka!
The teacher, surprised, stopped quilting; frowning his eyebrows, he looked at Utemish and Nikita and said:
- Why did you shout: you, prudent youth, and you, tear-jerking baby! Do you both want to teach your master? You yourself will be cut with both the rod and the scourge. The wounds I inflict bring good to the children and are not disgusting, but sweet, teaching you meekness and wisdom. Get up, you bleating asshole, and take a break.
Mikitka got off the bench and buried himself in the corner near the stove.
Kuzma Demyanich declared:
- Now say a prayer in front of the holy images and go to dinner. Yes, beware of telling at home what you saw and heard here. Don’t wash your verbal dirty linen in public, otherwise you’ll all lie on the school ass. After lunch, as the old people taught, take a nap for an hour, and then come here again. We will study until the evening.
The guys found their hats and, joyful, wanted to run out of the hut in a crowd, but the master stood at the door and let them out one by one, instructing:
- Bow at the waist, having received forgiveness from the master. When leaving school, quietly and gracefully close the doors on yourself and walk in good manners!