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A chat with Pushkin in cafe “At Biron” · перевод (English) · раздел 1 из 1

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A chat with Pushkin in cafe “At Biron”.

A pain was going away. Almost two days it rankled him like rabid beast and suddenly started to subside. Finely, it does not hurt anymore. Is it over, indeed? He opened his eyes and saw himself wounded on a sofa, where he was brought by Nikita.

He tried go down – outside, along the main staircase, but his view stopped on the table with inscription that main entrance was closed. Then he entered to the small group of visitors, which was moving to the black entrance. Although, he was not dressed like everybody, almost nobody paid attention to him. And those who met him nodded and smiled. He passed the apartments of ground floor, that had not familiar smell of laundry and kitchen. He got out to the courtyard. Indeed summer. The courtyard is clean, in the center are sheared shrubs and a monument on the high pedestal from white stone. At the foot of the monument are flowers, plenty of flowers. He came up closer.

He walked around the monument from the right side over paved cobblestone and saw carriage courts. On the gates of one of them was a notice with big letters – “Café”. He come up closer, slightly below with small letters – “At Biron”. Last year in September, during renting apartment in Volkonskiy’s house, somebody talked that for the first time in this house in the past century settled in Biron. Suddenly he felt hunger.

He opened the door, the cafe was empty, and just a single visitor was sitting at the left corner table opposite to a bar-stand. He looked around the room: walls, ceiling, tables, chairs – all in white decor, on the right and left walls were lithographs, a room lighting formed with lamps without candles…

With fast steps, he come to the table. A man sitting at the table looked like of elderly ages with gray hairs and weirdly familiar gray eyes. He stood up with affable smile as if he was waiting him for a long time. A waiter-woman came to the bar.

On the table were two meals with scrambled eggs in separate plates, bred, kitchen utensils, two glasses either compote or juice, and two cups of coffee.

All these words she says as a patter, but the jumping joy sparks in her eyes tell visitors as if she is participating in some joke.

All these thoughts have appeared in one moment, but somewhere in a corner of the mind lurked a hope of miracle.

Meanwhile, the visitor ate scrambled eggs and merrily cast a glance on the neighbor.

Well, he will eat now, we shall start to speak, and everything will become clear.

Gray-headed man took his iPhone, a light-click sounded, and the faces of siting people were illuminated by a brief flash.

Gray-headed man turned the display to Pushkin and showed him a photo of poet.

Gray-headed man spoke and at that time attentively followed for the eyes of neighbor sitting at the table. He had long time learned that the eyes are the mirror of a soul: a man can lie with tongue, but can’t lie with eyes. This guest exactly did not lie. Although, while listening his questions, he checked: how the animator playing his role of Pushkin would have react to this information? He noticed with regret, that he couldn’t distinctly determine who is in front of him: mummer or Pushkin himself.

The Gray-headed man some time looked at guest by keeping silence, but his head was full of thoughts and questions.

The Gray-headed man kept watching the guest. And the more he watched the more he convinced himself – in front of him is Pushkin.

The Gray-headed man looked at rounded electric clock on the wall behind the bar rack and noticed to himself, that it is about six hours pm.

At this moment appeared the waiter-woman.

She has come close to their table took empty plates, kitchen utensils and has hidden behind buffet rack.

Thanking the waiter-woman, they went out to the courtyard with cobble stones and turned to the left directly to the grand gates. It was the middle of June – the very peak of white nights. The sun still shined bright. The last rare visitors, after them the employee of museum left comfortable courtyard of the Volkonskiy’s villa. Through soft soles of summer boots was acute felt of cobbled bridge. Gray-headed man looked at black boots of his companion and thought, that at his time the asphalt was absent and all bridges were such and may be more sensitive for pedestrians.

Gray-headed man turned back and met the view of unknown man. May be, he is one of employees of museum. And Vasya is a local animator. He waited the reaction of his companion, whom suddenly rapidly turned to the voice, stopped, thought for second, put his hand into the right pocket of frock coat, got from there enough big bronze key, covered by green patina and dreamily, without looking to anybody, silently said:

He inserted key into the keyhole. Turned it twice and a heavy oak door slowly as it itself opened. After that Pushkin turned to Gray-headed man and for some reason like conspirator said:

And disappeared himself behind the door. Gray-headed man for some time stood completely at a loss because of such final. Then he hesitantly pulls the grand door to himself, but it was closed.

Gray-headed man with fast steps went out through the gates to the embankment of Moyka. At the powerful granite stabs of embankment were densely parked automobiles, where walked in hurry rare pedestrians. Pushkin was not among them…

Inner Predictor of USSR

10 July 2015