It was under Tsar Aleksei Mikhailovich that vagabonds and counterfeiters were exiled to the steppes of this region, but Gavrila Derzhavin, who was half-feinted, at that time half-feared, at Tambov, on the many cards of the imperial circles, got his name and got the pavements. Half a century passed, but not three of the main streets were sifted, the Felitsa singer straightened, and the booths, like him, hang out in the booths, and the taverns, with their numbers, prosper: one is the Moscow one and the other Berlin. One trouble – boredom: the bride in abundance, in the grooms – shortage.
And if anyone wins, like the beautician Avdotya Nikolavna – for Mr. Bobkovsky, the treasurer, is that so lucky? Lys is faithful, old and gloomy, and that’s another devil: the gambler – and preudachliv. He plays – and in large – in his own house, the packs, according to rumors, are sabotaged, from all counties the ponters to Bobkovsky flock, others – look at the hostess: “a prelumble piece”! Flirting “vpriglyadku” treasurer does not prevent, for his wife – in both watching, jealous, but he also teaches, “how to throw a sigh or languid look”; the stronger, say, “amorous ponter” will get involved, the sooner will lose. Meanness, meanwhile, is unbearable! From a young age at the treasury consists, and his wife “quite simply” contains: no cheptsov you from Moscow, no hats from St.
Tambov rattles all over Tambov, the crow-horses neigh, the virgin provincial wives cling to the dusty windows, and Avdotya Nikolaeva’s “the best morning’s sleep.” Cousin Madame Bobkovskaya, also, we note, married, – from the passion of the non-earthly to the handsome, the lancet burns and glows; a little light flew in, forty cracked: and the horse had that picture! .. It’s a pity that it’s just a cornet… The treasurer of the sister secretly quietly sympathizes, the eyes of the unbelievable from the eternal canvas without lifting…
However, and Donechka – not Diana, fastened-fastened, could not resist. My husband, as pochaynovichali – in the presence, and the wife with handicrafts – to the window, but just to the very fact that the tavern “Moscow” goes. She looks – and – oh, Lord! – “window to the window” with her bedchamber – uhlan, man and without… No, no, Ulan, I mean, the staff captain Garin, quite dressed. And even priodet: Persian arhaluk, yarmulka color ripe cherries “with a border and a golden brush,” and a special chubuk – patterned, beaded. Although the painter pose. But – alas! Tambovchanok, and even more so pretty, their own, Tambov, about the proprieties of the concept. The man in the numbers – and without uniform? What a shame and disgrace! The window is a knock! – the door closes, the curtain falls.
However, Ulan is happy: there is a beginning! He is a man who is single, free, he has seen the light, he is not red-handed, but he does not miss, in women’s souls he knows as well as he does in horses. And it turns out that two days later the white and pink treasurer again appears in the window, this time “in a caring attire.” Garin, to teach a provincial woman, gets up – and rides from the yard, and does not return until morning. And so – three days in a row. And imagine – the filly did not jump, albeit with striving, – on the contrary, it was subdued, but soon grew bolder. Twist our heroes romance in the breeze and across the street, while Tambov is resting, and the treasurer in the treasury with a state sum lives like his own treasury!
Meanwhile, the flowing-flowing, Dunya amorous gatherings at the window seems to be enough, and Garin really can not wait – not a fantastic character, he sighed, – “it’s time to the denouement.” Finally I was lucky. At the celebrations of the provincial leader of the lancer and the treasurer, unsuspecting hosts are seated side by side at the dinner table. And even then the captain-captain is not lost, the boon on the balcony is full of regimental trumpeters, and neighbors on the table desperately clatter with knives-forks-plates. Dunya is in silent ecstasy, but nevertheless in exchange for passionate confession promises only tender friendship (this is the custom of the village). We are fed up with a tender friendship with our lunatic, and what real man pays attention to female babbling? Especially if he sees that the heart of a beautiful woman is pounding, trembling, captivated by his gaze and his mighty, and ardent,
Somehow having passed through the night, in the morning, in the morning, barely waiting for the old jealous husband to leave for the presence, the captain-captain declared himself to Bobkovsky. Servants are dying. Avdotya Nikolayevna is still in her room, in the bedroom. And what does the wife do when the husband is not at home? Without dressing or combing her hair, in “slaphora,” restless sleep (lancers… sabers… spurs), crumpled, darling takes up handicrafts and gives herself up to dreams. This pleasant occupation is interrupted by Garin, opens the door and from the spot into the quarry – in Ulansky – explains the situation: either Dunya is given to him here and now, or he – and also here and now – “die from the gun”, that is, shoot himself in front of cruel. Confused at first (Garin completely believed: “a minute later for him love will come triumph”), Avdotya Nikolovna suddenly flashes with shame and repels the impatient: go, say, out,
Realizing that this is not pretense, but stubbornness, and the Tambov stronghold, you can not take it with a bounce, Ulan – the top of all humiliations! – falls on his knees and no longer requires, does not threaten – “pray plaintively.” And who knows, maybe, Dunya would have felt sorry for the poor fellow, and the door again opens wide: treasurer! Glancing darkly at each other’s eyes, the rivals diverge without saying a word. Returning to his room, the captain-captain urgently equips bullets and a pistol. No matter how it is! Instead of a decent call to a duel, the treasurer sends the offender an indecent invitation “to the whisk.”
Garin in thought: is there any kind of dirty trick here? But evening comes, and, glancing out the window, he sees that his neighbor really has guests: “The house is full, what kind of lighting!” The hostess meets the hostess herself – it’s cold, like a stranger, not a word about the morning scene. Discouraged, Garin goes on to the office, where he is waiting for another surprise: the treasurer – the very courtesy, treats the offender jam, personally gives champagne. The game, meanwhile, is gaining momentum, from prudent becomes gambling. The losers are pale, they tear their cards, they shout, the lucky ones ring loudly with glasses, and the treasurer-banker is darker than the clouds: for the first time in his life, luck slips out of the hands, and, after being furious, he descends everything: his own house and “everything in it or (furniture, stroller, horses, yokes and even Dunechkin earrings).
Time, however, later, the candles burn out, soon and light begins, the panthers are exhausted – do not disperse to their homes? – Yes, and a losing banker in a trance. It’s time, it’s time to stop! And suddenly the treasurer, as if waking up, asks the players not to disperse and allow him one more, the last “talum”, to win back the estate – “il lose even his wife.” Ponters in horror – what a villainy! – Only Garin accepts the villainous condition. Avdotya Nikolavna, huddled in an armchair, is neither dead nor alive, but gathered not to the feelings of the unfortunate beauty, because there is a serious battle. Ulan plays desperately, and fate, laughing at last, finally turns away from the old man Bobkovsky – “the fate of the hour fell”. In silence, without a single word uttering, “slowly and smoothly” comes to the gambling table the lost treasurer – neither tears, no hysterics, no reproaches! Silently she looks at her husband and silently throws her wedding ring in his face. And – faint. Ulan, do not be a fool, not baggy, grabs the prize in an armful and goes home, good to carry near, and does not pull the burden, if its own.
And then what, ask? But nothing. They messed with the week, the provincial lues were condemned, the treasurer tried to find defenders and, I think, found several, but neither a duel nor a good quarrel for this was followed. Tambov, gracious sovereigns, this is Tambov. Everything is quiet in Tambov.