A short retelling of the story of a horse with a pink one. Victor astafiev

My grandmother sent me to the ridge for strawberries together with the neighbour's children. She promised: if I get a full basket, she will sell my berries along with hers and buy me a "horse gingerbread". The gingerbread in the form of a horse with a mane, tail and hooves, doused with pink glaze, ensured honor and respect for the boys of the whole village and was their cherished dream.

I went to the ridge together with the children of our neighbor Levontius, who worked in logging. Approximately once every fifteen days "Levontius received money, and then in the next house, where there were only children and nothing else, the feast began like a mountain," and Levontius's wife ran around the village and paid off debts. On such days, I made my way to the neighbors by all means. Grandma would not let me in. “There is no point in devouring these proletarians,” she said. Levontius welcomed me and felt sorry for me like an orphan. The money earned by the neighbor ran out quickly, and Vasyona's aunt ran around the village again, borrowing.

The Levont'ev family lived in poverty. There was no household around their hut, they even washed at the neighbors' house. Every spring they surrounded the house with a miserable tyn, and every autumn he went to kindle. To the grandmother's reproaches, Levonti, a former sailor, replied that he "loves the settlement."

With Levontiev's "eagles" I went to the ridge, to earn a horse with pink mane... I had already collected a few glasses of strawberries when the Levontiev guys started a fight - the elder noticed that the others were picking berries not in a bowl, but in their mouths. As a result, all the prey was scattered and eaten, and the guys decided to go down to the Fokinskaya river. It was then that they noticed that I still had strawberries. Levontievsky Sanka knocked me down to eat it, and then I went to the river together with the others.

The fact that my dishes were empty, I remembered only in the evening. It was embarrassing and scary to return home with an empty tuyesk, "my grandmother, Katerina Petrovna, is not Vasyona's aunt, you cannot get rid of her with lies, tears and various excuses." Sanka taught me: to push herbs into the cupboard, and sprinkle a handful of berries on top. I brought this "snag" home.

My grandmother praised me for a long time, but didn’t pour the berries - she decided to take me to the city for sale right in the tueske. On the street, I told Sanka everything, and he demanded a roll from me - as payment for silence. I didn’t get off with one roll, I dragged it until Sanka was full. At night I did not sleep, I was tormented - and I deceived my grandmother and stole the rolls. Finally, I decided to get up in the morning and confess everything.

When I woke up, I found that I had overslept - my grandmother had already left for the city. I regretted that my grandfather's estate was so far from the village. My grandfather is good, quiet, and he would not give me an offense. Out of nothing to do, I went fishing with Sanka. After a while I saw a large boat coming out from behind the cape. My grandmother sat in it and shook her fist at me.

I returned home only in the evening and immediately darted into the closet, where a temporary "bed of rugs and an old saddle" was "set up". Curled up in a ball, I felt sorry for myself and thought of my mother. Like her grandmother, she went to the city to sell berries. Once an overloaded boat capsized and my mother drowned. "She was pulled under a floatable boom," where she caught a scythe. I remembered how my grandmother suffered until the river let my mother go.

When I woke up in the morning, I found that my grandfather had returned from the hunt. He came to me and told me to ask my grandmother for forgiveness. Having disgraced and denounced me enough, my grandmother made me sit down to breakfast, and after that she told everyone, “what he pretended to be a little girl”.

But my grandmother brought me a horse. Many years have passed since then, “grandfather is no longer alive, no grandmother, and my life is on the decline, but I still cannot forget my grandmother’s gingerbread - that wonderful horse with a pink mane”.

We hope you enjoyed it summary of the story Horse with a Pink Mane. We will be glad if you read this story in its entirety.

Siberian writer V.P. Astafiev is a multifaceted, talented author who has written a huge number of literary works, the plots of which are taken from life, including from their own. The summary of the story "Horse with a Pink Mane" will allow you to grasp the essence and meaning of this masterpiece.

Astafiev Viktor Petrovich (1924-2001) is the author who wrote the cycle of prose works "The Last Bow", which included several collections of stories, including "Horse with a Pink Mane".

This is an autobiographical work.

The plot of the work is simple, but its considerable volume is occupied by the description of the Levontius family and distraction to other things that allow the reader to get a detailed idea of the main character and the people around him.

The plot of the story "A horse with a pink mane"

Katerina Petrovna got ready to go to the city and sent her grandson to the ridge to collect strawberries in the tues.
The seven-year-old boy Mitya went for the berry not alone, but in the company of not very honest and well-mannered neighbors' children.
Manipulations with tuyesk, grass and a handful of berries, more like a fraud.
Stolen rolls for "the eldest of the Levontievskys".
Painful thoughts and an unfulfilled desire to tell the truth to grandmother.
Fishing, outdoor games late and not wanting to go home.
Overnight in the closet.
Repentance, forgiveness, reward.

Important! The story is narrated from the perspective of a seven-year-old boy, whom the author named Mitya, although according to all canons it should be Vitya, given that the story “Horse with a Pink Mane” is an autobiographical work, which, as it were, obliges to give the key character his name.

Summary of the story

Grandma Katerina sent me to collect strawberries, and promised that she would bring a gingerbread horse from the city, as she would sell the berries I had collected. In the morning, in the company of the children of my uncle Levontius, who works in logging, I went for a berry, taking with me a birch bark basket.

The Levontiev eagles are cunning guys: they picked berries right in their mouths, scattering the dishes prepared for forest gifts, for which they received a scolding from their elder brother Sanka. A scuffle ensued, during which the remains of the strawberries were mercilessly trampled.

When it was time to return home, an empty cupboard was drawn in front of my eyes, which I filled with grass, and embellished with berries for plausibility and to create an illusion.

A couple of handfuls of berries were enough for this. The experienced Sanka advised me to do this.

My grandmother praised me in every way, but did not pour the berries, deciding to take it to the city in my vessel.

I shared my misfortune with Sanka, and for silence he demanded several rolls from me, which I had to steal. In the morning I wanted to repent to my grandmother and repent, but did not have time - she had already left.

Sanka and I went to fish, and as soon as my bite started, a boat appeared with three men, famously wielding oars, and a grandmother, shaking her fist. I wandered into the night on the street, until a neighbor took me home.

I was ashamed and scared. Jumping into the closet, I settled down for the night on a bed-tent, and in the morning I found that someone had carefully covered me with a sheepskin coat. It was my grandfather, who came from the village, who persuaded me to ask for forgiveness.

Katerina Petrovna was very angry, she called me a swindler and a convict, but the cherished gingerbread unnoticed appeared on the table, and then I realized that I was forgiven.

Brief retelling

The orphan boy Mitya, who lives with his grandmother and temporarily absent grandfather, goes for strawberries, but not alone, but in the company of neighboring children.

To understand the characters and characteristics of Levontiev's offspring, one will have to read The Horse with a Pink Mane in full, since the summary will not be able to contain the description of the Levontius family. For a cup of strawberries, which Mitya should collect, the grandmother promises to bring him a gift from the city.

A white horse with a pink mane is a gingerbread that the village children desire.

Arriving in the forest with the sons and daughters of uncle Levontius, Mitya fell under their negative influence, and, infuriated by the eldest of them, Sanka, poured out the berries he had picked with difficulty for the general "devouring".

After that, the children devoted the rest of the day to their children's entertainment.

Mitya, not knowing how to show his grandmother's eyes without berries, listened to Sanka's advice: he filled the canteen almost to the top with grass, and then picked up a couple of strawberry guests and literally covered up his deception with her.

When Mitya returned home with a toy, supposedly full of berries, Katerina Petrovna uttered a bunch of pleasant words to him and promised that a gingerbread horse with a pink mane would be a reward for Mitya's efforts.

The next morning she departed for the market, and Mitya wanted to tell her about his deception, but he slept safely at the moment when Katerina Petrovna left.

Tormented by remorse, guilt and misgivings, the main character he barely got through this long day, which he spent outside the house, because first Sanka lured him to go fishing, and then before dark they played rounders. Mitya was afraid and ashamed to go home.

Late in the evening Mitya was brought home by a neighbor, who afterwards talked about something for a long time with Katerina Petrovna. In the morning, everyone who entered the house learned first-hand about Mitya's trick, but the boy had a reliable ally - his grandfather, who arrived in good time from the settlement.

On the advice of his grandfather, the "swindler" asked for a "good", for which he received an award - the coveted gingerbread, and at the same time - a good lesson that was completely learned.

Episodes

Brief retelling does not allow detailed consideration of episodes when:

Children frolic on the Fokinskaya river, and then they leave Mitya alone in the forest.
Sanka makes Mitya carry him rolls, blackmailing him by telling Katerina Petrovna everything.
Grandfather arrived in the morning.

Important! There is a deep meaning hidden in these episodes, and these scenes have a special meaning.

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Let's sum up

Throughout the story, the hero was repeatedly drawn into a grievous deception by Levont'ev's Sanka. The brief retelling also does not contain a description of the village life and the Levontius family, although without this the plot of the work is quite understandable, but the "lyrical digressions" add even more colors to it.

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Story

My grandmother came back from the neighbors and told me that the Levontievsk children were going to the ridge to pick strawberries.

“Go with them,” she said. - You will pick up a bag. I'll take my berries for sale, I will also sell yours and buy you a gingerbread.

- Horse, woman?

- Horse, horse.

Gingerbread with a horse! Well this is the dream of all village kids. He is white-white, this horse. And his mane is pink, his tail is pink, his eyes are pink, his hooves are also pink.

My grandmother never let me run with a piece of bread. Eat at the table, otherwise it will be bad. But the carrot is a different matter. You can put the gingerbread under the shirt and hear, while running, how the horse strikes its bare belly with its hooves. Cold with horror - lost! - to grab his shirt and be happy to make sure that here he is, here, the horse-fire. With such a horse you will be immediately honored, how much attention! The Levont'evskys around you flatter this way and that, and they give the first one to hit the siskin, and shoot from the slingshot, so that only they would then be allowed to bite off the horse or lick it.

When you give Levontievsky Sanka or Tanya to bite off, you must hold with your fingers the place where it is supposed to bite off, and hold it tight, otherwise Tanya or Sanka will bite like that; what will remain of the horse's tail and mane.

Levontius, our neighbor, worked on badogs. We call badogami long firewood for lime kilns. Levontius logged timber for badogi, sawed it, chopped it and handed it over to the lime factory, which was opposite the village on the other side of the Yenisei.

Once every ten days, or maybe fifteen, I don’t remember exactly, Levontius received money, and then in Levontius’s house, where there were only children and nothing else, the feast began like a mountain.

Some kind of anxiety, fever, or something, then covered not only the Levont'ev house, but also all the neighbors. Even early in the morning, Levontikha, Vasilisa's aunt, ran to her grandmother, out of breath, driven out, with rubles clutched in handfuls:

- Wait, you freaky! Her grandmother called. - You have to count!

Aunt Vasilisa dutifully returned and, while her grandmother was counting the money, she was fingering with her bare feet, an evenly hot horse, ready to jerk as soon as the reins were released.

Grandmother counted in detail and for a long time, smoothing out every ruble. As far as I remember, my grandmother never gave Levontiev more than seven or ten rubles from the “reserve for a rainy day,” because this entire “reserve”, it seems, consisted of ten. But even with such a small amount, the zapoloshny Levontikha managed to get short of a ruble, or even three. Grandmother attacked Levontikha with all the severity;

- How do you handle money, eyeless stuffed animal ?! A ruble for me, a ruble for another. What is this?! ..

But Levontikha again made a whirlwind with her skirt and rolled off:

- I did!

For a long time my grandmother vilified Levontikha, Levontius himself, beat her hips with her hands, spat, and I sat down at the window and looked longingly at the neighbor's house.

He stood on his own in the open, and nothing prevented him from looking at the light through the white, somehow glazed windows - not a fence, not a gate, not a gate, not a platband, not a shutter.

In the spring, digging a little ground in the garden around the house, the Levontievskys erected a fence of poles, twigs, old boards. But in winter, all this gradually disappeared into the insatiable womb of the Russian stove, sadly unfolding in the middle of Levontius's hut.

Tanya Levontievskaya used to say about this, making noise with her toothless mouth:

- But as the tyatka shurunets us - you run and do not zapeshsha.

Levontius himself went out into the street in his trousers, held on to a single antique copper button with two eagles, and in a shirt that had no buttons at all. He sat down on a block of wood, which was worn with an ax, depicting a porch, and complacently responded to his grandmother's reproaches:

- I, Petrovna, love weakness! - and drew his hand around him. - Good! Nothing will oppress the eyes!

Levontiy loved me, pitied me. The main goal of my life was to break into Levontius's house after his paycheck. This is not so easy to do. Grandma knows all my habits in advance.

- There is no need to look out the pieces! She thunders.

But if I manage to sneak out of the house and get to the Levontievs, that's it, it's a holiday for me!

- Get out of here! - the drunken Levontius strictly ordered one of his boys. He reluctantly got out from behind the table, Levontius explained to the children this action in a limp voice: “He’s an orphan, and you’re still with your parents!” Do you even remember your mother? He bellowed, glancing pitifully at me. I nodded my head in the affirmative, and then Levontiy recalled with a tear: - Badogi with her injected for one year, and! - and, completely bursting into tears, he recalled: - Whenever you come ... night, at midnight ... propa ... your lost head, Levontius, will say and ... get drunk ...

Here Vasilisa's aunt, Levontia's children, and I, together with them, were hitting their voices, and it became so amicable and pitiful in the hut that everything, everything, spilled out and fell out on the table, and everyone treated me together, and ate themselves through strength.

Late in the evening or quite at night, Levontius asked the same question: "What is zhist ?!" After that I grabbed the gingerbread cookies, sweets, the Levontievsky kids also grabbed what they could get their hands on, and scattered in all directions. The last move was asked by Vasilisa's aunt. And my grandmother "welcomed" her until morning. Levontius smashed the remains of the glass in the windows, swore, thundered, cried.

The next day, he glazed windows with fragments, repaired benches, a table and, full of darkness and remorse, went to work. Aunt Vasilisa walked around the neighbors three or four days later and no longer made a whirlwind with her skirt. She again borrowed money, flour, potatoes, which she had to.

Here I went with the children of Uncle Levontius. strawberries to earn a gingerbread by your labor. The Levontievskys children carried in their hands glasses with broken edges, old, half tattered for kindling; birch bark tuyeski and even a ladle without a handle. With this dish they threw themselves at each other, floundered, once or twice they began to fight, cried, teased. On the way, they dropped into someone's garden and, since nothing was ripe there yet, they layered the onion-batun, ate themselves to green saliva and threw the rest of the onion. We left only a few feathers on the pipes. They squeaked into the bitten onion feathers all the way, and to the music we soon came to the forest, to a stony ridge. We began to take strawberries, which are just ripening, rare, white-sided and especially desirable and expensive.

I took it diligently and soon covered the bottom of a neat little glass for two or three. Grandma used to say that the main thing in berries is to close the bottom of the vessel. I sighed with relief and began to take the berries more quickly, and there were more and more of them higher up the ridge.

The Levont'ev children also walked quietly at first. The lid tied to the brass teapot only tinkled. The elder boy Levontiev had this kettle, and he rattled it so that we could hear that he, the elder, was nearby, and there was no one to be afraid of and there was no need for us.

But suddenly the lid of the teapot jerked nervously, and there was a fuss:

- Eat, huh? Eat, huh? And home what? And home what? - Asked the senior and gave someone kicks after each question.

- A-ha-a-a! - Tanya sang, - Sanka also ate it, so nothing-oh-oh ...

Sanka was also hit, He got angry, threw the vessel and fell into the grass. The elder took and took berries, and, you see, it hurt him that he was taking, trying for the house, but they were eating berries or lying in the grass altogether. He jumped up to Sanka and kicked him again, Sanka howled, rushed at the older one. The kettle rang, berries spurted out of it. The Levontiev brothers are fighting, they are rolling, all the berries are crushed.

After the fight, the elder dropped his hands. He began to collect the spilled crushed berries and put them in his mouth.

- You can, but I can not? He asked ominously, until he ate everything he could collect.

Soon the Levontiev brothers somehow imperceptibly made up, stopped calling names and decided to go to the small section to spray.

I, too, wanted to splash, but I did not dare to go from the slope to the river. Sanka began to grimace:

- Grandmother Petrovna was frightened! Eh you ... - And Sanka called me a bad, offensive word. He knew a lot of these words. I also knew them, I learned from the Levont'ev guys, but I was afraid, or maybe hesitated to use them, and I only said:

- But the woman will buy a gingerbread with her horse!

- I?

- You!

- Greedy?

- Greedy!

- Do you want to eat all the berries? - I said this and immediately repented, I realized that I was caught. Scratched, with bumps on his head from fights and various other reasons, with chicks on his hands and feet, Sanka was more harmful and angrier than all Levontiev's guys.

- Weak! - he said.

- Am I weak? - I swore, looking askance at the tuesok. There were berries already above the middle. - Am I weak? - I repeated in a dying voice and, in order not to pass up, not to be cowardly, not to embarrass myself, I resolutely shook out the berries into the grass: - Here! Eat with me!

The Levontiev horde piled up, and the berries instantly disappeared.

I only got a few berries. Sad. But I already became desperate, gave up on everything. I rushed with the children to the river and boasted:

- I'll steal a roll from my grandmother!

The guys encouraged me, come on, they say, and more than one roll, maybe, they say, you can grab another shaneg or a pie.

- Okay! - I shouted with enthusiasm.

We splashed cold water from the river, wandered along it and with our hands caught the sculpting pikamenchik, Sanka grabbed this disgusting-looking fish, called it shamelessly, and we tore it to pieces on the shore for its ugly appearance. Then they shot stones at flying birds and knocked down the swift. We soldered the swift with water from the river, but he let blood into the river, but could not swallow the water and died, dropping his head. We buried the swift and soon forgot about it, because we were engaged in an exciting, terrible business - we ran into the mouth of a cold cave, where an evil spirit lived (it was known for certain in the village). Sanka ran into the cave farthest. Even the evil spirits did not take him!

We spent the whole day so interesting and fun, and I completely forgot about the berries. But it was time to go home. We took apart the dishes hidden under the tree.

- Katerina Petrovna will ask you! Will ask! - Sanka chuckled. - We ate the berries. Ha ha! They ate it deliberately! Ha ha! Nishtyak for us! Ho ho! And you ha-ha! ..

I myself knew that to them, Levontievsky, "ho-ho!", And to me, "ha-ha!" My grandmother, Katerina Petrovna, is not Vasilisa's aunt.

It was a pity that I trudged after the Levontievsk children from the forest. They ran ahead of me and drove a bucket without a handle in a crowd along the road. The ladle clinked, bounced on the stones, and the remains of the enamel bounced off it.

- You know what? - After talking with the brothers, Sanka turned to me. - You push the herbs into the cupboard, and on top of the berries - and you're done! “Oh, my child! - began to mimic my grandmother Sanka with precision. - I helped you, orphan, help you. - And the devil-Sanka winked at me, and rushed on, down from the hill.

And I stayed.

The voices of the Levontievsk children died down behind the gardens below. I stood with a tuyesk, alone on a steep ridge, alone in the forest, and I was scared. True, you can hear the village here. And yet the taiga, the cave is not far away, and there is evil spirits in it.

He sighed, sighed, almost burst into tears and even began to tear up the grass. I picked up the berries, laid the top of the tuyeska, it turned out even with a shock.

- You are my child! - screamed the grandmother, when I, freezing with fear, handed her my vessel. - Help you, orphan, help-il. I'll buy you a gingerbread and the biggest one. And I will not pour your berries to mine, but; I'll take it away right in this tuyeska ...

Relieved a little. I thought that now my grandmother would discover my fraud, give me what she was supposed to do, and already detachedly prepared herself for punishment for the atrocity he had done.

But nothing happened. Everything worked out. My grandmother took my cupboard to the basement, once again praised me, gave me something to eat, and I thought that I had nothing to fear and life was not so bad.

I ran to play outside, and there it pulled me to inform Sanka about everything.

- I'll tell Petrovna! And I'll tell you! ..

- Don't, Sanka!

- Bring a roll, then I won't tell you.

I sneaked into the closet, took out a roll from the chest and brought it to Sanka under a shirt. Then he brought more, then more, until Sanka got drunk.

“I cheated my grandmother, stole the rolls! What will happen? " - I was tormented at night, tossing and turning on the beds. Sleep did not take me, as finally and completely confused criminal.

- Why are you crawling there? The grandmother asked hoarsely from the darkness. - In the river, I suppose, again wandered? Do your legs hurt?

- No, - I answered pitifully, - I had a dream ...

- Well, sleep with God. Sleep, don't be afraid. A life worse than dreams, father ... - the grandmother was already mumbling indistinctly.

"What if you wake her up and tell her everything?"

I listened. From below came the labored breathing of a weary old man. It's a shame to wake up grandma. She has to get up early. No, I'd rather not sleep until morning, scaraul my grandmother, tell her about everything - about tuesok, and about rolls, and about everything, about everything ...

This decision made me feel better, and I did not notice how my eyes closed. Sanka's unwashed mug appeared, and then strawberries flashed, and fell asleep, she filled up Sanka, and everything in this world.

There was a smell of pine trees and berries on the fields, and inimitable childhood dreams came to me. In these dreams, you often fall down with a sinking heart. They say - because you are growing.

Grandfather was at a hut, about five kilometers from the village, at the mouth of the Mana River. There we had a strip of rye, a strip of oats and a strip of potatoes. At that time, conversations about collective farms were just beginning, and our villagers were still living alone. I was very fond of visiting my grandfather on the hunt. Calmly there, in detail somehow. Maybe because the grandfather never makes noise and even works quietly, unhurriedly, but very calm and pliable.

Ah, if only the capture was closer! I would leave, hide. But five kilometers for me then was a huge, insurmountable distance. And Alyoshka, my deaf-mute cousin brother, no. Recently, Augusta, his mother, came and took Alyoshka with her to the floating area where she worked.

I wandered about, wandered around the empty hut and could not think of anything else how to approach the Levontievskys.

- Has Petrovna gone? - Sanka grinned cheerfully and spit on the floor in the hole between the front teeth. One more tooth could easily fit in this hole, and we were terribly jealous of this Sanka's hole. How he spat through her!

Sanka was going fishing and untangling the line. Small Levontievskies walked near the benches, crawled, hobbled just like that on crooked legs. Sanka handed out slaps to the right and to the left for the fact that the little ones climbed under the arm and confused the line.

“There’s no hook,” he said angrily. “He must have swallowed something.

- Will die!

- Nishtyak, - Sanka reassured me. - If you gave a hook, I would take you fishing.

- It goes! - I was delighted and rushed home, grabbed a fishing rod, bread, and we moved to the stone bulls, for the cattle, which descended directly into the Yenisei below the village.

Senior Levontievsky was not there today. His father took him with him to "badogi", and Sanka recklessly commanded. Since he was the eldest today and felt a great responsibility, he did not almost bully and even pacified the "people" if they began to fight ...

Sanka put fishing rods at the bulls, made worms, spat on them and threw the fishing line.

- Sha! - said Sanka, and we froze.

It didn't bite for a long time. We were tired of waiting, and Sanka drove us away to look for sour sorrel, coastal garlic and wild radish.

Levont'ev's children knew how to soak themselves "from the earth", ate everything that God sent, did not disdain, and that is why they were all red-faced, strong, dexterous, especially at the table.

While we were collecting greens suitable for grub, Sanka pulled out two ruffs, one gudgeon and a white-eyed dace.

They made a fire on the shore. Sanka picked up fish on sticks and began to fry them.

The fish were eaten without salt and almost raw. My children grinded bread even earlier and did something: they pulled swifts out of their minks, “panned” with stone tiles on the water, tried to swim, but the water was still cold, and everyone quickly jumped out of the river to warm up by the fire. Warmed up and fell into the still low grass.

The day was clear, summer. Scorching heat from above. Near the cattle, frying flowers blazed fieryly, in a spoon, under birches and boyars, speckled cuckoo tears were leaning to the ground. Blue bells dangled from side to side on long crunchy stems, and, probably, only the bees heard them ringing. The striped flowers of a gramophone lay on the warm ground near the anthill, and the heads of bumblebees were poking into their blue horn. They froze for a long time, exposing their shaggy backs, must have listened to the music. The birch leaves glittered, the aspen grove was somber from the heat, did not flutter. The boyarka was blooming and littered in the water, the pine forest is fumigated with a transparent haze. Above the Yenisei flickered a little. Through this flicker, the red vents of the lime kilns that blazed on the other side of the river were barely visible. The forests on the rocks stood motionless, and the railway bridge in the city, visible from our village in clear weather, swayed with a thin cobweb and, if you look at it for a long time, completely collapsed and fell.

From there, from behind the bridge, the grandmother should come. What will happen? And why, why did I do that ?! Why did you listen to the Levontievskys?

How good it was to live! Walk, run and don't think about anything. And now? Maybe the boat will capsize and Grandma will drown? No, it's better not to overturn. My mother drowned. What good? I am an orphan today. Unhappy person. And there is no one to pity me. Only a drunken Levontius will regret it, and the grandmother just shouts yes, no, no, and will give in - she will not stay long. And grandfather is gone. He is not a captive, grandfather. He would not give me offense. The grandmother shouts at him: “Potter! All his life he indulged his own, now this! .. "

"Grandpa, you are a grandfather, even if you come to the bathhouse to wash, even if you just come and take me with you!"

- Why are you sniffing? - Sanka bent down to me with a preoccupied look.

- Nishtyak! - Sanka consoled me. - Don't go home and that's it! Bury yourself in the hay and hide. Petrovna saw your mother's eyes ajar when she was buried. He's afraid now that you too will drown. So she will scream, cry out: "Drowning-u-ul, my child, threw me away as an orphan-monk", and you are right there ...

- I won't do that! I protested. - And I will not obey you! ..

- Well, to hell with you! They want you better ... In! It took a bite! You got a bite! Pull!

I rolled down the ravine, disturbed the swifts in the holes and pulled the line. I got a perch. Then another perch. Then a ruff. A fish came up, biting began. We baited worms, threw them.

- Don't step over the rod! - Sanka shouted superstitiously at the Levontievski kids who were completely crazed with delight and dragged the fishes. The kids put them on a willow rod and lowered them into the water.

Suddenly, behind the nearest stone bull, forged poles clicked on the bottom, and a boat appeared from behind the toe. Three men at once threw poles out of the water. Flashing with polished tips, the poles fell into the water at once, and the boat, burying itself along the very edges into the river, rushed forward, throwing it to the sides of the waves.

Another wave of the poles, throwing arms, push - and the boat is closer, closer. So the stern pushed the pole, and the boat nodded its nose away from our fishing rods. And then I saw another person sitting on the gazebo. Half-shawl on the head, its ends are passed under the armpits, cross-to-cross tied on the back. Painted under a semi-shelter burgundy color a jacket that was taken out of the chest only on the occasion of a trip to the city and on major holidays ...

After all, this is a grandmother!

I rushed from the fishing rods straight to the hole, jumped, grabbed the grass and hung, thrusting thumb legs in a sheared mink. Then a swift flew up, bumped me on the head, and I fell down on lumps of clay. He jumped off and started to run along the bank away from the boat.

- Where are you going?! Stop! Stop, I say! - shouted the grandmother.

I raced with all my might.

- I-a-avish, I-a-avish home, swindler! - rushed after me the voice of my grandmother. And the men gave in to the heat, shouting:

- Hold it!

And I didn't notice how I ended up at the upper end of the village.

Only then did I discover that it was already evening, and willy-nilly it was necessary to return home. But I didn't want to go home and just in case I went to my cousin Vanka, who lived here, on the upper edge of the village.

I'm lucky. Near the house of Kolcha Sr., Vanka's father, they played rounders. I got into the game and ran until dark.

Aunt Fenya, Vankin's mother, appeared and asked me:

- Why aren't you going home?

Grandma will lose you, won't you?

“Nope,” I replied nonchalantly. - She sailed to the city. Maybe spending the night there.

Then Aunt Fenya offered me something to eat, and I happily grinded everything that she gave me. And the thin-necked Vanka drank boiled milk, and his mother said to him:

- All on milk and milk. Look how the boy eats, and that's why he is strong.

I was already hoping that Aunt Fenya would leave me for the night, but she still asked, inquired about everything, then took my hand and took me home.

There was no light in the house. Aunt Fenya knocked on the window. The grandmother shouted: "Not locked." We entered a dark and quiet house, where we could only hear the multi-winged buzz of flies, spiders and wasps beating against the glass.

Aunt Fenya pushed me back into the hallway and pushed me into the closet attached to the hallway. There was a bed of rugs and an old saddle in their heads - in case someone gets hot during the day and wants to rest in the chill.

I buried myself in the rugs, became quiet.

Aunt Fenya and grandmother were talking about something in the hut. The closet smelled of bran, dust, and dry grass piled in all the cracks and under the ceiling. This grass was still snapping and crackling, and that's why, apparently, in the closet it was a little mysterious and eerie.

Under the floor, lonely and timidly, a mouse was scratching, starving for the cat. Silence, coolness and night life... The dogs killed by the heat of the day came to their senses, climbed out from under the entryway, porch, kennel and tried their voices. At the bridge that runs across a small river, an accordion sang. Young people gather on the bridge, dance and sing there. Uncle Levontius was hastily chopping wood. Uncle Levontius must have brought something for the brew. Did the Levontievskys "knock off" a pole of someone? Most likely with us. They have time to go far now.

Aunt Fenya left, tightly closing the door in the senets. The cat slipped furtively under the porch, and the mouse subsided under the floor. It became completely dark and lonely. The floorboards did not creak in the hut, the grandmother did not go. I must be tired. I felt cold. I curled up and fell asleep.

I woke up from a sunbeam that made its way through the dull window of the closet. In the beam, dust flickered like a gnat, from somewhere it was applied with a catch, arable land. I looked around, and my heart jumped with joy - grandfather's old sheepskin coat was thrown over me. Grandpa arrived at night! The beauty!

I listened. In the kitchen, grandmother spoke loudly and with indignation:

-… cultured lady, in a hat. He says: "I'll buy all these berries from you." I say, “Please, you are welcome. I say, the miserable little orphan collected berries ... "

Here I, it seems, fell through the ground together with my grandmother and could no longer make out the last words, because I covered myself with a sheepskin coat, huddled into it in order to die sooner.

But it became hot, dull, it became unbearable to breathe, and I opened up.

-… I always indulged my own! - the grandmother made a noise. - Now this! And he is already cheating! What will be out of it then? The Qatar will be! The eternal prisoner will be! I'll take the Levontievskys into circulation! This is their letter! ..

- You are not sleeping, you are not sleeping! I see everything!

But I didn't give up. The grandmother's niece ran into the house and asked how the grandmother had sailed into the city. Grandma said that thank you, God, and immediately began to tell:

- My little one! What have you done! ..

This morning a lot of people came to us, and my grandmother said to everyone: "And my little one! .."

Grandmother walked back and forth, watered the cow, drove her out to the shepherd, did her various things, and every time passing the pantry door, she shouted:

- You are not sleeping, you are not sleeping! I see everything!

My grandfather wrapped me in the closet, pulled out the leather reins from under me and winked: "Nothing, they say, don't be shy." I sniffed. My grandfather stroked my head, and the tears that had been accumulating for so long poured in a stream.

- Well, what are you, what are you? - my grandfather reassured me, taking away tears from my face with a big, hard and kind hand. - Why are you lying hungry? Ask for forgiveness ... Go, go, - my grandfather gently pushed me.

Holding my pants with one hand and pressing the other with my elbow to my eyes, I stepped into the hut and started:

- I am more ... I am more ... I am more ... - and could not say anything further.

- Okay, wash your face and sit down to crack! - still implacable, but already without a thunderstorm, without thunders, said the grandmother.

I washed myself obediently. For a long time and very carefully he wiped himself with a towel, every now and then shuddering from the sobs that still did not pass, and sat down at the table. Grandfather was busy in the kitchen, reeling the reins on his hand, doing something else. Feeling his invisible and reliable support, I took the crumbs from the table and began to eat dry food. Grandmother in one fell swoop poured milk into the glass and with a clatter put the bowl in front of me:

- Look what a meek one! Look how quiet he is, and he won't ask for milk! ..

My grandfather blinked at me - be patient, they say. I knew without him - God forbid, now to contradict my grandmother or even give a voice. She must speak, must be discharged.

For a long time my grandmother denounced me and put me to shame. I bellowed again in repentance. She yelled at me again.

But then my grandmother spoke out. My grandfather left somewhere. I sat there, smoothing the patch on my pants, pulling the threads out of it. And when he raised his head, he saw in front of him ...

I closed my eyes and opened my eyes again. He closed his eyes again, opened it again. A white horse with a pink mane galloped on a washed-out, scrapped kitchen table, as if on a vast land with arable land, meadows and roads, on pink hooves. And an angry voice was heard from the stove:

- Take it, take it, what are you looking at ?! You look, for this even when you deceive grandmother ...

How many years have passed since then! For a long time there is no grandmother in the world, no grandfather. And I still can't forget that horse with the pink mane, that grandmother's gingerbread.

town of CHUSOVOY,

Perm region

A summary of the story of V. Astafiev "Horse with a pink mane"

On such days, I made my way to the neighbors by all means. Grandma would not let me in. “There is no point in devouring these proletarians,” she said. Levontius welcomed me and felt sorry for me like an orphan. The money earned by the neighbor ran out quickly, and Vasyona's aunt ran around the village again, borrowing.

With Levont'ev's "eagles" I went to the mountainside, to earn a horse with a pink mane. I had already collected a few glasses of strawberries when the Levontiev guys started a fight - the elder noticed that the others were picking berries not in a bowl, but in their mouths. As a result, all the prey was scattered and eaten, and the guys decided to go down to the Fokinskaya river. It was then that they noticed that I still had strawberries. Levontievsky Sanka knocked me down to eat it, and then I went to the river together with the others.

Illustration by E. Meshkov