"Евгения Фрейзер. The House by the Dvina (Дом на Двине, Мемуары) (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Some years earlier, an old nanny, who had been in the family for
several generations and who had had the unique experience of seeing the
remnants of NapoleonТs Grand Army retreating near the district of
Smolensk, lived there. She was known as Nanny Shalovchikha.
After she died, the flat stood empty for some time. When I arrived
Uncle Sanya was living there. Uncle Sanya was my fatherТs younger brother,
a young man in his twenties at that time. The private entrance of the flat
suited my uncleТs bachelor activities. He led a gay life of parties with
nocturnal visitors who came in shadowy drozhkis (hired cabs) gliding
silently through the gates and out again after discharging their
mysterious passengers. At times when the revels reached their crescendo
and the loud sudden burst of laughter, the raised voices or the strumming
of a balalaika would penetrate the thick floor upstairs, someone would
laugh tolerantly, but BabushkaТs face always darkened. A large square
balcony connected the two wings of the house. French doors from the dining
room led on to it.

I

cannot remember it ever serving any useful purpose except when during
the summer Babushka would suddenly decide to go into town.
She would then go out to the balcony, lean over the railings, cup her
hands over her mouth and in a clear resonant voice call over to the lodge,
"Mikhail-lo, poda-a-a-avai." Mikhailo would appear on the steps, call back
and hurry down, fastening his coat as he ran to the stables. In no time
the horse and carriage would be cantering towards the entrance.
A favourite game after lunch was to feed the chickens. Holding a plate
filled with all the leftover food and bread, Babushka would stand,
throwing handfuls over the railing and at the same time call to the
chickens in a very special, drawn out, caressing tone "Tze-ee-eep,
Tze-e-e-eep meelenki-ya" . . . "Tzee-e-ep, tzee-eep, my darlings." The
magic effect of this never failed to throw me into fits of laughter. I
myself would then start calling in unison with Babushka. The "little
darlings" rushed across from all directions Ч chickens, hens, all colours
and sizes with trailing wings and piercing cries, geese, turkeys appearing
from nowhere. Ducks, only seconds before diving peacefully in the depth of
the pond for weeds and little fish, were suddenly galvanised into hurrying
up the bank, madly rolling across the lawns, in a frenzy working their way
through the hedges stumbling and falling over themselves, inevitably to
arrive too late.
In the winter, when all the windows and French doors were sealed in
double frames, the balcony became inaccessible. The snow lay thick up to
the top of the railings and only the faint, lace-like tracks of the crows
and sparrows marred the smooth white perfection.
At the far end of the yard was the lodge. It was divided by a narrow
passage into two separate houses, each containing two rooms.

In one
lived Mikhailo with his young wife Masha. The other half housed Vassily
the gardener and a young boy named Yashka employed to run messages,