"Yuri Olesha. The three fat men (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

curtains and partitions, where the actors were getting ready for the show.
The curtain parted and a face appeared. It was a Spaniard, a very
famous pistol shot. His moustache bristled, and one of his eyeballs rolled
in its socket.
"Oho!" he said when he saw the Negro. "Are you going to take part in
this show, too? How much did they pay you?"
The Negro was silent.
"I got ten pieces of gold!" the Spaniard boasted. He thought the Negro
was one of the actors. "Come over here," he whispered and looked very
mysterious.
The Negro climbed up on to the stage. And the Spaniard told him a
secret. This is what it was. The Three Fat Men had hired a hundred actors to
perform in all the market places. They were supposed to tell the people how
wonderful it was to live in a country ruled by the rich and the gluttons and
what bad people the rebels Prospero the Gunsmith and Tibul the Acrobat were.
"They've hired magicians, lion-tamers, clowns, ventriloquists, and
dancers. And they gave us all a lot of money."
"Did all the actors agree to praise the Three Fat Men?" Doctor Caspar
asked.
The Spaniard hissed at him.
"Shhh!" he said, putting his finger to his lips. "Don't talk so loudly.
A lot of them didn't, and they were arrested."
The Negro stamped his foot angrily.
Just then the music began. The performances were beginning in some of
the booths. The crowd milled about.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" a clown standing on the wooden stage shouted in
a high-pitched voice. "I would like to wish you all...."
He stopped shouting and waited for the noise to die down. Powder kept
falling off his face.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to wish you all good health today,
of all days, when the executioners of our dear, pink Three Fat Men will chop
off the heads of those horrible rebels!" He never finished. One of the
workers threw a half-eaten oatcake at him. It landed right in his mouth and
filled it up completely.
"Mmm-mmm-mmm!"
The clown gurgled, but it didn't help. The poorly-baked, half-raw gob
of dough filled his mouth. He waved his arms about and made horrible faces.
"Hah! Serves you right!" people in the crowd shouted. The clown
scampered off behind the curtain. "Scoundrel! He sold himself to the Three
Fat Men! He's ready to damn those who've gone to meet their death to free
us!"
The music became louder. Other bands joined in. There were nine fifes,
three bugles, three Turkish drums, and a violin, the sound of which gave
everyone a toothache.
The owners of the booths wanted the loud music to drown out the noise
of the crowd.
"The actors may get scared of the oat-cakes," one of them said. "We
must pretend nothing has happened." "Come one, come all! The show's about to
begin!" One of the booths was called "The Trojan Horse". The showman came
out from behind the curtain. He had on a jacket with round brass buttons and