Remizov’s “irrepressible tambourine” in brief

Remizov’s “irrepressible tambourine” in brief

An outlandish man Ivan Semenovich Stratilatov. Young began his judicial service in a long, low, smoky office of the criminal department. And now forty years have passed, and many secretaries have since been replaced, and he is sitting at a large table by the window, wearing smoky glasses, baldness all over his head, and copying the papers. Ivan Semenovich lives in an apartment in the house of the deacon Procopius. Agapevna serves him, uncomplainingly, by faith and righteousness. Yes – the old, for what it takes, everything falls out of the hands, and snores like a sergeant-major, and in all corners, near the stove, behind the cupboard, stale bread crusts are folded-for some reason. I would have driven the Stratilates to Agapevna, but still I can not imagine how he would part with the

old: Agapevna settled in the house, Agapevna knew all angles.

I was once married to the Stratilates. Glafira Nikanorovna is a quiet woman, meek. And all would be nothing. Yes, a new investigator was appointed to the court: young, playful, and the same name: Stratilatov. Once on the name day at Artemy, the old Pokrovsky deacon, among all sorts of jokes, Ivan Semyonovich heard something in a drunken corner, and about Glafira Nikanorovna: “Oh, why do not you say that, she crashed into Stratilatov’s ears.” Ivan Semyonovich dropped his fork: a venomous investigator introduced himself. He got out of the table, without a hat – home. The rabid burst in and out of the doorway: “Get out of my house!” In the same year, the investigator was transferred somewhere, and Glafira Nikanorovna remained with her mother, quiet and meek. One can not remain in the house: it is boring and behind the house. It was then decided to Ivan Semenovich Agapevna.

The Stratilates Court comes first. In the morning, it is better not to bother him: at twelve the secretary will require performances on the previous day. As Ivan Semyonovich, the secretary of Lykov’s secretary, is afraid of the fire, even though he senses with his nose: let Lykov be a lawyer, neat as a German, and nevertheless as a ruffian, revolutionary.

And only the secretary will leave with a report, Stratilatov becomes inexhaustible: all sorts of adventures, all kinds of historical adventures, he fires for memory, pouring jokes, jokes, and all hotter, more cautious, as if in a tambourine beats. In the office – who laughs, who snorts, who squeals: “A tireless tambourine!”

However, among the judicial officials, one Boris Sergeevich Zimarev, an assistant secretary and immediate commander of Stratilatov, for his ability to accurately and accurately determine the antiquities, of which Ivan Semyonovich is a great lover, earned him sincere respect and even friendship.

There were other friends from Ivan Semenovich, but all people turned out to be doubtful. They came as if listening to him singing, Stratilatov, after all, and on the guitar master, – an artist from St. Petersburg and to live, and Regent Yagodov is not for nothing. Miraculously Ivan Semyonovich got rid of them. Now – only for Zimarev Boris Sergeevich after tea he sings, he plays.

Once in the summer on the name day at Artemy, the old Pokrovsky deacon, he saw Stratilatov his niece, the orphan Nadezhda, so thin and white, and his nature overflowed. And summer, and autumn, and all winter courted. And he stopped sleeping, everything turns. The familiar intervened. Persuaded the very young. It was then that Stratilatov drove Agapevna from the yard.

Soon everyone knew that Stratilatov had Hope and that they lived like a real marriage. Converged officials from all branches of the court – to congratulate, to giggle and just to look sideways. Stratilatov and joked, and sulked, and then lost his temper: Hope for the place Agapevna took, nothing more. They picked him up laughing because there was evidence! Yes there is still a case…

During the Late Mass to the All-Saints Church, people are flocking to the fool Matren to listen. She recounts as children – joyfully, out of breath – from the lives and the Gospel. And when Stratilatov – he just returned from the late Mass – an indelicate dream told. The people burst out laughing, the deacon Prokopy croaked in all his might, Ivan Semenovich swore, spat – and away. A deacon with a laugh: “And your Nader whore walking!” “But I’ll shoot you, deacon.” Ivan Semenovich quickly zashchygal to the house and then – back, with a large Georgian pistol decorated with fine thread. Everything was quiet. Ivan Semyonovich is aiming, it seems, about to pull the trigger. The deacon suddenly trembled, stuck out his tongue, and walked away, as if on broken legs. And the next day Stratilatov moved down, to please Hope left the deacon’s house, moved to a new apartment to neighbor Tarakteev.

There would be no end to the talk and ridicule, but the police chief Zhiganovsky turned his mind away from him. I decided to bring the nuns of the female Zachatievsky to the clean water. He sat in the basket like a gentleman – they were raised at night by the nuns to their windows. Yes, as they looked into the basket – with fear and released a rope, and Zhiganovsky was killed to death. And then another: the official on the dispute thirty-nine cups of tea drank, took up his forties, his eyes bulged, but suddenly the water poured from his ears, from his mouth, from his nose – and died. And even in broad daylight, the schoolgirl Verbova, executing the verdict of the local revolutionary committee, shot herself in error instead of the governor of retired Colonel Auritsky. On the same night, Secretary Lykov was arrested. Stratilatov triumphed: he had known for a long time that the incorruptible and unswerving Lykov, who held his head above the prosecutor himself, was a revolutionary.

And in the office Lykov did not leave the language. They did not notice conversations, that one day Ivan Semyonovich did not come to the office. Only three days passed. Zimarev found Agapevna. After the expulsion of his own, the old one was not far from Ivan Semyonovich, he felt: to be in trouble! Indeed, he seduced the lover, Emelyan Prokudin, Nadezhda, she left with him, and she was full of good things. He grabbed Prokudin and stowed it with silver. Stratilatov – does not give, well, that he “dared”.

In hospital Stratilatov all complained: “If I’m not sick, I would go straight to court”. He himself is bandaged, he is lying on his bunk – neither to turn, nor to raise his hand. They told, suffered before death, languished. And he left without heirs. Things have been assigned to the sale. And while Agapa lived with them. Absolutely half-witted became an old woman: she would lie down at night on a couch, and not lie down, she could hear everything, as if Ivan Semenovich was calling: “Agapevna?” “I am, Father.”

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Remizov’s “irrepressible tambourine” in brief