Read Ebook: A China cup and other stories for children by Volkhovskii F Feliks Malyshev Mikhail Egorovich Illustrator

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Ebook has 447 lines and 27144 words, and 9 pages

'Oh, my poor darling!' said the old woman, sobbing, while hot tears rolled down her wrinkled, unwashed face; 'I cannot tell what to do for you, my dear pet.'

In the same room with the old woman, in another corner, there lived a beggar, an old discharged soldier of the time of the Russian Emperor Nicholas, when the discipline was so inhumanly severe and the term of service lasted a whole quarter of a century! He had been in the wars, fought bravely, and now he was quite alone in the wide world. The bullets were still in his body, old age prevented him from working, and he was obliged to get by begging here and there a few copecks. He became accustomed to sorrow; but now it grieved him to see the misery of the old woman and the sufferings of the little girl.

'You are foolish,' said he to the old woman; 'why do you cry, as if the child was dying? You must not do it! Go rather for the physician.'

Pronounce 'Neeke?teech.' The reader should rather be told here that the Russian fashion of calling a person, when addressing him or her, is not by his or her surname, but by the Christian name, with the addition of his or her father's name, somewhat altered in a way to express 'son of' or 'daughter of' such-a-one; for example--Iv?n Nik?tich . Among common people and among friends they address only in one's Christian name without the addition of the father's name ; but if, in addressing a common person, you wish to express some deference, you use only the '?tchestvo,' without the person's Christian name; for example, 'Nik?tich' instead of 'Iv?n Nik?tich.' Such is the case in our tale.

'And why should he not come? One will not come, another will not come, but some one perhaps will come at last. There, I know a physician, K?tov, a nice gentleman! He always gives me a glass of tea and five copecks. He will not let me go without giving me something. "How do you do, Nik?tich?" says he always to me. I tell you, go to him. Ask him; you needn't care.'

'Yes, at his home he will receive me perhaps, but he will not come here. No, we have nothing to do with physicians. I cannot afford to buy medicine, and very likely they will not even let me into the house. No, I dare not.'

'Well, if you dare not, I will go myself.'

At these words the old wounded soldier took his stick and hobbled away to the physician's.

The physician did come. He was a very good man, only he had the habit of speaking in an angry tone and even shouting, so that some were afraid of him. He examined the girl a long time, put his ear to her back and chest, tapped both with his fingers, spat in disgust, and complained angrily of the dirt and unwholesome air of the room. He ordered that nothing but broth be given to the girl, wrote a prescription on a bit of paper, and said that the medicine would be given gratuitously at the apothecary's.

In the evening the old woman brought the bottle with the medicine, poured some into a wooden spoon and presented it to her granddaughter. The girl shook her head feebly and turned away. She was afraid of the medicine; she thought it was something so disagreeable, and for nothing in the world would she take it.

'Ah me!' said her grandmother, sighing, 'why won't you take it? It's too bad! What will the physician say? He ordered it and you will not take it. Wait, you will see what will happen to disobedient children!'

The girl was frightened; she began to sob, and when her grandmother offered her the spoon, she covered her mouth with her hand and hid her face in her pillow.

In the morning the old woman took our Cup out of the oven. Oh, how glad was our Cup when the old woman, looking all over her, said to herself, 'Oh, I see it is as good as new now!' Just at this moment Mary called for her grandmother and asked for a drink. The old woman went with the newly-cemented Cup for some water, and as she held her hand over the tub, the Cup saw herself in the water as in a mirror. Alas! what did she see there? In many places were ugly cracks; the cement, applied by an unskilful hand, formed spots and patches. 'Oh,' groaned the Cup--'oh, how ugly I am! It would have been better for me to perish in the rubbish heap. Ah, now I would like to die as soon as possible!'

She did not die, however. The old woman was obliged to put her in haste on the window-sill, for just then the physician entered the room.

'How many spoonfuls of medicine did she take?' asked he angrily.

'She did not take any at all, sir. What shall I do with her? Such an obstinate, silly girl; she is not willing to take any; what shall I do?' answered the old woman.

'What? How does she dare? What does she mean? Give me the spoon!' cried the doctor.

At these words Mary screamed, her eyes opened wide from fear, and she covered her head with the bedclothes. The doctor turned once more to the old woman.

'And did she take the broth?' he asked.

'But, my good sir, where should we get money for the broth?' said the rag-gatherer, with tears in her eyes.

'Well, why did you ask me to come if you did not intend to do what I ordered?' He then took at once a crushed three-rouble bank note from his pocket, threw it angrily on the box which served as a table, and turned away. When he reached the door he turned his head, and, flushed with excitement, said:

'All the medicine must be taken by to-morrow, and the broth must be ready, and that's the end of it!'

When the old woman saw the three roubles in her hand she could hardly realise her good fortune and believe in her happiness. Just think, three roubles! For three years or so she had never had more than thirty copecks at one time, and now she had three roubles!

'God grant you every happiness, our benefactor!' repeated the poor woman over and over again.

As for Mary, she grew worse and worse. She groaned, her dilated eyes shone with the fire of fever, her lips became parched and black.

'Oh, you little dove, do take the medicine, and you will feel better,' entreated the old woman; but Mary obstinately refused to take any. Seeing the sufferings of the poor girl, the rag-gatherer suddenly clasped her gray head with her hands.

'Oh my God! what am I to do with her? what am I to do with her?' wept she in despair. 'She will die, I am sure, through her own foolishness. How hard it is to see her suffering just because she will not take a little medicine.'

The Cup saw and heard all this, and once more she felt ashamed of having thought herself unhappy for not being as beautiful as formerly.

'Do you know that I have mended the little Cup?' she said.

The face of the little girl brightened, and a faint smile played upon it. 'Let me see it,' lisped she.

The grandmother showed her the little Cup, and Mary's face expressed as much rapture as if she saw some masterpiece of beauty. The poor child had seen during her life so few beautiful things, that the mended Cup with the pretty nosegay on her transported her with delight.

'And wouldn't you take the medicine out of the Cup?' asked the old woman, in an uncertain, coaxing tone of voice.

The girl made no reply, but smiled again.

'Well, will you take it out of the pretty little Cup?'

'I will,' answered Mary, in an almost inaudible voice.

The little Cup was standing at that moment on the window-sill, and was trembling with joy; hitherto no one had loved her so deeply as Mary did. Was it not for her sake alone that Mary consented to take the medicine? Perhaps the little girl will recover; perhaps she, the Cup, will have saved a human life. 'Oh, what a beautiful thing it is to live,' said the Cup to herself; 'never before was I so happy!'

It was a glorious summer day when Mary went the first time after her dangerous illness to take breath in the open air. She was still thin and pale, but her large eyes were bright, and she looked happy. She was sitting in the nearest square, under a big green tree, with her Cup in both her hands. The little girl was evidently eager to have the Cup always with her; she would not part with her treasure. The Cup felt herself also happy--nay, happier than ever--although she was now broken and spotted with ugly cement patches. She was happy and proud to be the best friend of the little Mary whom she had helped to restore to life and health.

HOW SCARLET-COMB THE COCK DEFENDED THE RIGHT

'Where did a rascally serf get such a capital grindstone?' he thought; and turning to his steward, who was riding behind with two or three noble retainers, he asked: 'Whose yard is this?'

'Stanislas Kogo?tek's, most illustrious Pan,' respectfully answered the steward.

'Why is the grindstone here?'

'It does not belong to the manor; we have not such a good grindstone,' replied the steward, understanding the mistake of the magnate, who supposed the grindstone to be his, and to have come into the peasant's yard by chance.

A middle-aged peasant, bareheaded, barefooted, and wearing nothing but a shirt and trousers of coarse sacking, ran out of the hut at this summons. He approached his master, bowing humbly, fell on his knees before him, bowed to the ground, and, rising, kissed his stirrup, after which he bowed again.

'Whose is the grindstone?' asked the landlord, frowning.

Kogo?tek's terror increased, and his eyes glanced round in agitation; he realised how foolish he had been not to hide the grindstone from his master's eyes.

A Polish term of abuse; literally, blood of a dog.

'Mine, most illustrious Pan,' answered Kogo?tek, trembling with fear.

'How dare you, you rascal, when I myself haven't such a grindstone, the steward says?'

'I earned it, please your honour,' stammered Kogo?tek faintly.

The unfortunate peasant knew what a 'good lesson' meant, and flung himself, with a piteous cry, at the feet of his master's horse. But the magnate shook the reins and galloped off with his followers.

The next morning the grindstone was transferred to the manor yard, and the wretched Kogo?tek was flogged in the manor stables.

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