Холдор Вулкан : другие произведения.

Chapter 5 of the short novel of Holder Volcano "Falling leaves". Dance lovers

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Школа кожевенного мастерства: сумки, ремни своими руками
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  Chapter 5 of the short novel of Holder Volcano "Falling leaves"
  
  
   Dance lovers
  
  
  
   The next day early in the morning Sultan with Khurshida hurried to the camp together to meet the dawn as they agreed yesterday. It turns out that even girls are brave when you fall in love. Love gives us strength and courage. Khurshida hurriedly walked down the deserted morning country road in the direction of the field, where the distance whitened walls field camp in lush. In the silence she heard loud voices just woken up, morning birds, the sounds of their own footsteps, and the rustle of the hem of her dress. She was delighted, seeing from afar her beloved boyfriend Sultan who came before him to the meeting place and waited for her. Excitement Khurshida's heart began to beat faster than normal. When she came to the camp, Sultan stood under the white tree, like Santa Claus under the tree, covered with white snow. Stood and smiled, hiding his hands behind his back. The funny thing was that he was wearing a black coat, in the hat and white gloves. He stood leaning on his staff, like Pushkin before the duel with Dantes.
  
   - Oh, I see! Who do I see? Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu de La Marquise La tombala neige a pace sua e fusible manege!- loudly and solemnly he said.
  
   When he started to bow, removing the cylinder head, and as if scooping the air, exposing foot forward, then stepping back with humbly bent head, Khurshida saw in his hands a lush bouquet of flowers dedicated to her. She loudly laughed out loud, seeing prepared the cheerful tractor driver Sultan agreed to the morning to lift her spirits.
  
   Oh, Bonjour, Monsieur Sultan de La Crua je'mapple a la maison general, la bien, merci beaucoup moi! - greeted Khurshida also bowing deeply. Finally, Sultan ceased to bow the old way, and sat down, standing on one knee held out the bouquet.
  
   Khurshida took the bouquet and involuntarily began to smell the flowers, closing his eyes with pleasure.
  
   - Oh, what a heavenly scent! What a perfect nostalgic smell! Delicate French perfume! Thank you, Monsieur Sultan de La Crua je'mapple a la maison general, la tge bien, merci beaucoup moi!, for the beautiful roses! - She said eagerly.
  
   - All right, Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pace sua e fusible manege. You can smell these flowers, as they say, -Moi felicitation and... uhh... Vous a la bien said Sultan, putting on his top hat.
  
   - Where you bought these wonderful flowers, Monsieur Sultan de La Crua je'mapple a la maison general, la bien, merci beaucoup moi! Expensive perhaps! For dollars, or Uzbek som? Not worth to spend such big money on such an expensive purchase. I would suit wild meadow flowers said Khurshida, smelling a bouquet of red roses.
  
   - I never spent a dime or a cent or a shilling or sterling. Am I a fool, or something, to spend fabulous money to buy some flowers? In short, I go once at dawn here, rustling the tails of his old coat, which he took on rent from the father of a friend of the tractor driver Sultan, working and living with your enormous large family and with thick mother-in-law at the theatre of satire and drama named Hajibay Tadjibaev in a hurry to see You, running through the cemetery to gain time. Look on the tombstone, beneath which protruded edge white shroud, lies this bouquet of flowers. Give, I think, will please one Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pace sua e fusible manege, the playpen and picking up his ran here - said tractor driver Sultan.
  
   -Oh my God, what are you talking about, Sultan? What a mess, Oh, what a nightmare! Ah, you rascal, Monsieur Sultan de La Crua je'mapple a la maison general, la bien, merci beaucoup moi! Take it! On! On! Trickster! Yes, I am gonna hit you with the bouquet!..
  
   With these words,Khurshida began to slap Sultan with the bouquet of flowers, like a Russian slap each other with birch twigs soaked with boiling water in the steam rooms of the baths in the winter, when the low window howling snowstorm, patting the branches of white-trunked birches.
  
   - Oh, Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pace sua e fusible manege! Khurshida, what are you doing?! Now quit beating a cemetery broom poor mechanic for our farm name Tillaquduq! You see, Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pace sua e fusible manege, what a beautiful bouquet you made a mess! Well that's not a real bouquet! And from such attacks sharp thorns of these roses would have torn to shreds, the ancient coat of the silver age, which I took on rent from the father of the other driver, whose father works and lives with his large family and many children with thick mother-in-law at the theatre of satire and drama named Hajibay Tajibaev. I was joking! What joke, whether that?! What kind of dictatorship! - defended by the hands of Sultan.
  
   Hearing these words Khurshida stopped beating Sultan with the help of bouquet, which now resembled an old broom, with which women beat over the head of their drunken husbands, return home on all fours. Looking at the dismantaled bouquet, she laughed, shaking her shoulders. Sultan laughed too. They laughed for a long time then laughed in a voice not hesitating one, and there is, in principle, in addition to them, there was not a soul .Then they sat side by side at a makeshift field General table under blooming white acacia. Flowers of acacia, like amber bunches hung over their heads. Here, Khurshida reached out to the white bunches of acacia, covered with morning dew, and when she touched a finger to his soft hands, the petals of the flowers of acacia fell down on the table like small pieces of broken white crockery.
  
   - Oh, what have I done! Ah, the poor petals, forgive me! Oh, how I feel sorry for you! -Khurshida said, looking at the fallen petals of flowers of acacia and sighed.
  
   - Yes-Ah, well, what can you do? In this world everything has an end. Here is an acacia, too, loses its flowers, dropping them like tears. This spring says goodbye to us, Madam Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pace sua e fusible manege. - sighed Sultan. Meanwhile in the distance the pale ochre sky turned yellow Cirrus clouds.
  
   - Come, Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pace sua e fusible manege, immerse yourself in silence, quiet as the very nature of the way this morning, as these fields, as the morning deserted roads, like paths overgrown from two sides of the spring wildflowers and red poppies, quiet as the ravines where growing silky grass covered with dew - Sultan, looking at the distant horizons, on the field, yellowing of the firmaments.
  
   - Yes, Monsieur, not a bad thing, we will turn, though for a while in silence and dissolve in it, as the silhouette of the outgoing belated traveller in the thick autumn fog-agreed Khurshida.
  
   They stared at the field, sitting at a homemade wooden field Desk prescribed under the white acacia. Cloud slowly gaining gold, and then pink outlines, Israelis sharp morning rays of the rising sun. Over the field again merry larks sang, happily fluttering in the air, like a miniature tropical birds hummingbirds. Delight forgetting his promise, Khurshida spoke first:
  
   -Sultan, look at the distant mountains, the snow-capped peaks, the expanses, apricot trees, grape orchards, mulberry plantations! Wide fields like the soul of a good man, isn't it?! They seem to Wake up, yawning as the morning sun!
  
   - Yes - said the tractor driver Sultan, looking sad into the morning fields.
  
   At this time, on poplars in unison began to make birds singing and their voices thunder banged in the silence, and the walls of the field mill was echoed. Dissatisfied looking at poplar, where the noisy morning birds, Sultan shouted:
  
   Hey, birds! Would you make the noise like lots of shopkeepers? This silence is broken! Oh, you ill-mannered, uncivilized village! Is talking so loud to each other?! One of you talks and the other listen carefully to him. Not offended, but you are just like our deputates in Parliament, making noise, fighting each other, only know how to gab, bla -bla -bla! - he said.
  
   Then taking Khurshida's hand, smooth as ivory, and gently kiss, said: You do not pay attention to them, Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pace sua e fusible manege. Those silly birds don't realize that it is not good to make noise breaking the morning silence. They do not understand that a person may be disabled on this field of peace, even if not being there is no fighting. But this happens! I, for instance, a young mechanic, just a few days ago, fighting on this field for their existence, scalded with boiling water and almost died heroically, right? But, thank God, I miraculously survived and nothing happened. Now my leg does not hurt. If you believe me, I can prove it in practice. Dance "Lezgi" - he said and rose from his seat, went to the site and singing the melody, began to sing the famous energetic dance.
  
   Seeing this, Khurshida laughed. Then she joined Sultan, and together they began to dance until they were tired.
  
  
  
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