Portartur. 1940. Boris Trofimov
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a train station in the city of Far, an unfamiliar fair-haired man approached Podkovina.
– I have the honor to introduce myself – Alexander Petrovich Lykov. For the duration of your stay here you are my guest. I carry out the orders of the Inovs. Here is a telegram in which all your signs are described… Fight! Take a suitcase!.. Probably need to notify your colleagues? Come on!..
Holding Tikhon under his arm, Lykov led him between the cars to the nondescript station building. There were fragments of bricks, sleepers, beams, barrels of cement lying around. It was hot and dusty. Pushing the passers-by, rickshaws ran up to Lykov.
– Allow me. I will walk on foot, “said Tikhon, embarrassed, when he saw a half-naked man who obediently stood at attention by the hand-carriage.
Ever and always the same story with the newcomers, – Lykov scoffed. Trying to be as courteous as possible, he took the Shoe under his elbow and sat him in the stroller. The crowd respectfully parted. Cab drivers and station workers, people knew Lykov as a rich man of a petty tyrant; tipsy, he did not give way to major local officials.
“This is my hut,” said Lykov, pointing to the mansion. “A decent house, but here I’ve become damn cheap.” Working hands in abundance.
In the hallway of Lykov and Podkovina, a tall, slender Japanese woman in a rich dress bowed low. She crouched so low that she touched the floor with her knees. Podkovin involuntarily backed away.
– Come in, Tikhon Stepanovich. Meet… My mistress. Sasha-san.
The Japanese woman bowed once again to Podkovin and, straightening out, extended her hand:
– Hello.
The guest looked into the face of the woman – it was beautiful. Crouching and backing back, Sasha-san led Tikhon into the living room and sat in a soft armchair.
– Smoke?
– No, I don not smoke.
“Yu ar notes tuxedo… do you not smoke?” The woman said in surprise. – Yes, yes, I forgot, Russian is very much not smoking… This is good.
– The battle! Prepare the captain of the batts [1 – Batts – bath.] – Lykov shouted and addressed Tikhon: – You are my friend, let’s speak at once to “you”. Take a bath and put on what they give you. A uniform hang in the wardrobe. I do not like at home uniforms. You look, it, on it and you think: to chop off, kanalya, came. And you and the buttons of the bailiff…
We dined in the dining room in a European way, but in dressing gowns and slippers. Sasha-san was sitting on the spot of the hostess and skillfully – mimicry and gestures – commanded the servants.
Japanese girl, and even so close, Podkovin saw for the first time. Her narrow face, bordered with thick hair, slightly matte skin and bright black eyes were charming.
– Eat, please, soup, and tomorrow we will cook Russian soup. Oh, this is very strong food! Lykov-san always shout: bow, come on!
The Japanese laughed loudly, White teeth, like mother-of-pearl, glittered.
“Every nation has beautiful women,” thought Tikhon.
– Irkutsk big city? – asked Sasha-san.
– Big and beautiful. There is a rapid river Angara.
– An-ga-ra-ah, what a resounding word! – Sasha-san said melodiously.
– And Baikal. – the best lake in the world, – put Lykov. – You are great, Mother Russia… Sasha, you need to drink before fried chicken. Pour our minister cognac,
– I do not drink cognac.
– Do not drink?.. So it is impossible! We also have a heart-to-heart talk. A drink should be. So why instead of brandy?
– Ryabinovki.
– Wonderful. Sasha’s favorite drink. Sasha-san, pour yourself and him more quickly. And I brandy.Lykov, raising his glass, glanced at Tikhon and, slightly screwing up one eye, began to examine it unceremoniously.
– Do not drink or smoke… This is good, my father would say. Here with whom would you see. Wonderful old man!.. —
Podkovin looked at the Japanese. She listened intensely to the conversation.
“My Sasha wants to learn and know everything,” Lykov sneered. – Curious nature… Drink, and after dinner on the side…
Podkovin lay on the sofa, but could not sleep. Soon everything went quiet in the house. Turning from side to side, he got up and went out to the front. The door of the corridor leading to the courtyard was ajar. Carefully stepping on a soft rug, Tikhon approached the exit and looked at the porch. The Chinese man and the little Chinese kept his tunic in the floor and carefully examined the buttons, trying, apparently, to understand the sign that was pressed out on them.
Podkovin backed away, and then, loudly slapping shoes, opened the door. The Chinese began to rub the cloth with a brush, and the old Chinese servant indifferently lit his pipe.
“Our departmental buttons are of deep interest. I remember, and Sasha-san very carefully, looked at them, “thought Podkovin and said to the little Chinese:
– I want to get dressed.
“Now, captain…”
In the city of Dalny were carried out haste. The bay was filled with merchant ships. Only one, the military cruiser stood out among them with its tall pipes and white paint. The city was surrounded by bare yellowish hills. A thin curtain of dust hung over him. The cranes puffed off the embankment, the locomotives whistled, pushing the cars to the pier. Tikhon for a long time could not take his eyes off ocean steamers with green sides and white cabins. From the pipes, smoke lazily was rising. Small boats snooping around the bay and the bay…
The city was something noteworthy in architectural terms. Its stone buildings, erected in the Gothic-Chinese style, with fancy facades, were far from the modern architectural ensemble. Observing from the mountain it would seem that before them theatrical scenery. Many-sided gabled roofs with gray tiling, decked out but with all faces with cemented crests and Chinese sculptures, strongly protruding dormer windows, also decorated with images of dragons and other mythical animals, colossal chimneys draped over a Chinese sample, high gable walls – all of this carried off into the world of fantasy. The diversity of eyes hurt. It was felt that the builders did not have a serious attitude to the matter that they were assigned. They shunned Russian originality even in cases where domestic architecture techniques, without disturbing the beauty of the streets, could provide significant savings.
Podkovin climbed to the nearest mountain, and his heart beat happily. He saw the picture of the seashore for the first time. Large and small capes went into the blue distance. Mount Samson rested against the clouds. Fishing boats bobbing in the waves. In the distance, on the horizon, three steamboats smoked. Turning to face Port Arthur, Podkovin tried to guess where there is a fortress there, but I saw nothing but a chain of hills.
– Captain! – he suddenly heard the voice of a little Chinese.
This is Lykov sent for the Horseshoe battle. He himself stood below, under the mountain.
“We are slaughtering millionaires,” he said to Tikhon, stretching his hand towards the Far. – Manchuria is a real treasury. Thousands of possibilities… And I like you. I did not fall asleep after dinner, the Russian heart