Summary of “Bargamot and Garaska” Andreeva
Gorodovoy Ivan Akidinich Bergamotov for many years held a post on the Pushkarnaya street of the provincial town of Orel. In the area he was listed as “badge number 20”, but the gunners – residents of Pushkarnaya street – called him Bargamot.
With a gentle and delicate pear bergamot, Ivan Akidinich had nothing in common. Nature did not offend Bargamot – he was tall, strong, loud and “was a prominent figure on the police horizon.”
By its appearance, Bargamot was more like a mastodon or, in general, one of those sweet creatures who, for lack of space, had long since left the land filled with brains-people.
Bargamot long ago could reach a high position, if his soul, buried under a thick layer of flesh, “was not immersed in a heroic dream.” External impressions, passing through the small, swollen eyes of Bargamot, lost their brightness and reached his soul in the form of “weak echoes and gleams.”
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What Bargamot did not know, he was silent with such an unshakable solidity that it became as if the knowledgeable people were somewhat ashamed of their knowledge.
The entire Pushkarskaya street, populated by working people and decorated with two taverns, respected Bargamot for incredible strength. Every Sunday the gunners entertained themselves, arranging a “homeric fight”, after which Bargamot delivered to the station the most desperate fighters.
Bargamot lived in a small, sagging cabin with his wife and two children, was economic, strict and taught home life “by physical influence.” Wife
It was Easter Eve. Bargamot stood in the post in a bad mood – he had to be on duty until three in the morning, and he could not get to the Easter service.
Bargamot did not feel the need to pray, but the festive, light mood, poured over an unusually quiet and calm street, touched him.
Bargamot wanted a holiday. In addition, he was hungry – because of the post the wife did not feed him dinner. Looking at the elegant and washed gunners going to church, Bargamot darkened even more, because tomorrow he would have to drag many of them to the station.
Soon the street was empty, and Bargamot was dreaming – he pictured to himself the waiting table waiting for him and his son Vanyusha, to whom he had a marble egg as a present. “Something like parental fondness” has risen from the bottom of his soul. But then the complacency of Bargamot was broken – from behind the corner appeared completely drunk Garaska. Staggering from the fence to the fence, Garas’ska came upon the lantern, locked it “in friendly and firm embraces,” slid down and was lost in thought.
Garaska plagued Bargamot more than other gunners. This skinny, ragged little man was the first brawler in the district. He was beaten, kept in a precarious position, but could not wean from the “most insulting and malicious” swearing.
Bargamot Garaska scolded so fantastically that he, not understanding even the entire salt of Garaskin’s witticisms, felt that he was more offended than if he had been flogged.
Than Garaska earned his living, remained for the gunners secret. Sober was never seen. In the winter Garaska disappeared somewhere, but “with the first breath of spring” appeared on Pushkarskaya Street and spent the whole summer in the kitchen gardens, under bushes and along the river bank. Pushkari suspected that Geraska was stealing, but they could not catch him on the hot “and they were beaten only on the basis of indirect evidence.”
This time, Geraske, apparently, had a hard time – his rags were in the mud, and the face with a large red nose is covered with bruises and scratches. Approaching the tramp, Bargamot took him by the collar and led him to the station. On the way, Geraska started talking about the holiday, and then resolutely turned to Bargamot, pulling some object out of his pocket.
Intrigued Bargamot released the collar Garaska, he lost support, fell and… howled like a woman howling about the deceased. Soon it turned out that he crushed an egg, which he wanted to bark with Bargamot “in a noble way.”
Bargamot felt that “this person is sorry for him, as a brother of his own, and his brother is offended by his own brother”. Even the curse of Garaska did not offend him.
With all his awkward inner senses, he felt either pity or a conscience. Somewhere, in the most remote depths of his stout body, something was boringly boring and tormenting.
Bargamot resolutely raised Garaska and led… to his house, to break fast. On the way the astounded tramp was thinking of running away, but his legs completely disobeyed him. Yes, and he did not want to leave, so Bargamot was very wonderful, who confused the words, then explaining to Garaska instructions for policemen, then returning “to the question of beating in the station.”
Seeing the confused face of her husband, Mary did not contradict, but poured Garaska a bowl of fat, fire-eating cabbage soup. The tramp was unbearably ashamed because of his rags and dirty hands, which he seemed to be seeing for the first time. When Marya called him by name and patronymic, Gerasim Andreitch, “that same plaintive and rude howl that so embarrassed Bargamot” again burst out of his chest.
Calming him, Marya Gerasku explained that for many years no one had called him so respectful.
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