Read the missing letter in full. Gogol Nikolay Vasilievich

Missing certificate

A true story told by a sexton about his grandfather.

My grandfather was one of the simple Cossacks. One day the nobleman Getma decided to send a letter to the queen. The regimental clerk called my grandfather and said that he would go with that letter to the queen. Grandfather sewed the letter into his hat and drove off. On the second day he was already in Konotop, where a fair was going on at that time, and decided to take a look, remembering that he had neither flint nor tobacco. Having met a reveling Cossack there, word for word, they got to know each other, and the grandfather completely forgot about his path. They drank with the Cossacks and decided to go together. When he noticed that the Cossack reveler was getting very excited, he went and said:

There is nothing to hide in front of you. Do you know that my soul has long been sold to the unclean.

What an incredible thing! Who has never had contact with the unclean in his entire life?

Eh, guys! I would have walked, but on this night, well done! Hey brothers! - he said, slapping their hands, - hey, don’t give it away! Don’t sleep one night, I will never forget your friendship!

They decided to help the man, not to let the devil sniff the dog’s face of the Christian soul. We would have driven further, but the field was enveloped in dark night, only some light flickered in the distance. We went to the light and ended up in a tavern. The yard near the tavern was filled with Chumatsky carts, so we had to go to the barn to sleep. Before the grandfather had time to turn around, everyone had already fallen asleep. There was nothing to do, I had to guard myself.

And it seemed to the grandfather that soon something gray with horns was looking behind the neighboring carts. Grandfather stared as long as he could, and then finally fell asleep. I woke up, there were fewer carts, my friends were still sleeping, but the Cossack was gone. Only one scroll lies in the place where the Cossack slept. Grandfather went to look at the horses, but his and Zaporozhye’s horses were missing. The grandfather decided that he would go on foot, since the devil had taken both the horses and his acquaintance. I grabbed my hat, but there was no hat either. He remembered that he and the Cossack exchanged hats for a while. The devil stole the hetman's charter.

Everyone felt sorry for the grandfather, they were amazed, but they could not help. Only the shinkar took him aside and said that he would teach him how to find a letter, because it was immediately clear that his grandfather was a Cossack.

Grandfather had to go through the forest to the river and under no circumstances look back, no matter what was happening behind him. By the river, the grandfather will see who he needs, only his pockets need to be filled with money, since both the devil and people love money.

Grandfather was not a coward, he went into the forest, reached a river, saw a very narrow bridge and crossed it in an instant. Behind the bridge on the shore there was a group sitting around a fire, which the grandfather immediately identified as an “unclean tribe.”

They didn’t talk to their grandfather until he threw money into the circle, to which their paws immediately reached out and their ears pricked up.

Now the grandfather realized that these were witches and they were now dancing “some kind of damn trope.” They began to climb up to kiss their grandfather, then dragged him behind their long table. The devils had a rich table and the grandfather decided to have lunch, only every time he put his fork into his mouth, he ended up not in his own, but in someone else’s. The grandfather became furious and jumped up:

Why are you, Herod's tribe, planning to laugh at me? If you don’t give me my Cossack hat back this very hour, then I’ll be a Catholic if I don’t turn your pig snouts on the back of your head!

Everyone laughed, and one witch said that they would return his hat if his grandfather played the fool with them three times, and if he won at least once, the hat would be his. Grandfather had to agree, even though it was a shame for a Cossack to sit down and play cards with women, even though they were witches.

He lost twice, the witches, as they were supposed to, witched, the cards changed suit before our eyes. Only for the third time did the grandfather guess and quietly cross his cards under the table. Then the witches lost to him, thunder rolled through the inferno, and the witches began to writhe, the hat fell right into the grandfather’s face. But the grandfather also took the horse away from the devils.

The devil's horse flew so that it did not obey either the reins or the cry of his grandfather. Familiar places flashed before him, and when he woke up, he was lying on the roof of his hut.

The grandfather woke up his wife, told her to consecrate the hut, rested, took out his horse and, without stopping anywhere, day or night, rode to the queen.

The queen rewarded him so much that he forgot to remember about the devils, and he didn’t want to tell anyone afterwards.

And due to the fact that his wife did not consecrate the hut, as he said, the demonic punishment remained. Every year, on that very night, a miracle happened to the woman: her feet danced around the house on their own, no matter what she did.

A true story told by the sexton of the *** church

So you want me to tell you more about your grandfather? Perhaps, why not amuse me with a joke? Eh, old man, old man! What joy, what revelry will fall on your heart when you hear about something that happened in the world a long, long time ago, not even a year or a month old! And when some relative, grandfather or great-grandfather gets involved, well, then wave your hand: so that I may choke at the akathist to the Great Martyr Barbara, if it doesn’t seem like you’re about to do all this yourself, as if you’ve climbed into your great-grandfather’s soul or great-grandfather’s the soul is playing naughty in you... No, most of all to me are our girls and young women; just show yourself to them: “Foma Grigorievich! Foma Grigorievich! and I'm sure I'll insure the Cossack! and chickpeas, chickpeas!.. - tara-ta-ta, ta-ta-ta, and they’ll go and go... Of course, it’s not a pity to tell you, but look at what happens to them in bed. After all, I know that each one is trembling under the blanket, as if she were struck by a fever, and would be glad to get headlong into her sheepskin coat. Scratch a rat with a pot, somehow hit the poker with its foot - and God forbid! and soul in your heels. And the next day nothing happened, it was imposed again: tell her a terrible fairy tale, and that’s all. What could I tell you? What if it comes to mind... Yes, I’ll tell you how the witches played fool with their late grandfather 1 . Just ask you in advance, gentlemen, not to confuse you; Otherwise it will turn out to be such a jelly that you’ll be ashamed to even put it in your mouth. The late grandfather, I must tell you, was not one of the simple Cossacks in his time. He knew both firmly and to put a title. On a holiday, he snatches away the apostle, so that now another priest will hide. Well, you yourself know that in those days, if you collected literate people from all over Baturin, there was no point in putting your hat on - you could put them all in one handful. Therefore, there was nothing to be surprised at when everyone he met bowed to him almost to the waist.

Once the noble hetman decided to send a letter to the queen for some reason. The then regimental clerk, it’s not easy to take him, and I don’t remember his nickname... Viskryak is not Viskryak, Motuzochka is not Motuzochka, Goloputsek is not Goloputsek... I only know that somehow a strange nickname begins, - he called his grandfather to him and told him that, So, the hetman himself dresses him up as a messenger with a letter to the queen. Grandfather did not like to get ready for a long time: he sewed the letter into his hat; brought out the horse; kissed his wife and his two, as he called them, piglets, one of which was the father of at least our brother; and raised such dust behind him, as if fifteen lads were planning to play porridge in the middle of the street. The next day the rooster had not yet crowed for the fourth time, the grandfather was already in Konotop. At that time there was a fair there: so many people poured through the streets that it was blurry in the eyes. But since it was early, he was still dozing, stretched out on the ground. Near the cow lay a young reveler with a nose as red as a bullfinch; snored at the bottom, sitting, repurchasing, with flints, blue, shot and bagels; there was a gypsy lying under the cart; on a cart with fish - chumak; on the road itself, a bearded Muscovite with belts and mittens stretched out his legs... well, all sorts of rabble, as is usual at fairs. Grandfather paused to take a good look. Meanwhile, little by little, things began to stir in the yatki: the Jewish women began to rattle their flasks; smoke rolled here and there in rings, and the smell of hot sweets wafted throughout the camp. It occurred to the grandfather that he had neither flint nor tobacco at the ready: so he went to wander around the fair. Before he had time to walk twenty steps, a Cossack came towards him. A reveler, you can see it in his face! Red as heat trousers, a blue zhupan, a bright colored belt, at his side a saber and a cradle with a copper chain right up to his heels - a Cossack, and that’s all! Eh, people! He will stand up, stretch out, move his brave mustache with his hand, rattle his horseshoes and - take off! But how it starts: the legs dance like a spindle in a woman’s hands; like a whirlwind, he pulls his hand along all the strings of the bandura and immediately, leaning on his sides, rushes in a squat; bursts into song - the soul walks!.. No, time has passed: I won’t see the Cossacks again! Yes, that's how we met. Word by word, how long before we meet? They went to scribble, scribble so much that the grandfather had completely forgotten about his path. The drinking started like at a wedding before Lent. Only, apparently, he finally got tired of breaking pots and throwing money at people, and the fair won’t last forever! So new friends came to an agreement so as not to be separated and to keep the path together. It was long before evening when they went out into the field. The sun has gone to rest; here and there reddish stripes burned instead; The fields were full of fields, like the festive planks of black-browed young women. Our Cossack got a terrible supply. The grandfather and another reveler who had trudged towards them were already thinking whether a demon had entered him. Where did it come from? The stories and sayings are so outlandish that the grandfather grabbed his sides several times and almost burst out laughing. But in the field it became, the further, the gloomier; and at the same time the brave rumor became more incoherent. Finally, our narrator became completely silent and flinched at the slightest rustle.

Ge-ge, fellow countryman! Yes, you started counting owls in earnest. You’re already thinking about going home and going to the stove!

There’s nothing to hide in front of you,” he said, suddenly turning around and motionlessly fixing his eyes on them. - Do you know that my soul was sold to the unclean long ago?

What an incredible thing! Who in his life has not had contact with the unclean? This is where you need to walk in the dust, as they say.

Eh, guys! I would have walked, but on this night, well done! Hey brothers! - he said, slapping their hands, - hey, don’t give it away! Don’t sleep one night, I will never forget your friendship!

Why not help a person in such grief? Grandfather declared bluntly that he would rather let the donkey be cut off from his own head than allow the devil to sniff his Christian soul with a dog’s muzzle.

Our Cossacks would have traveled, perhaps, further, if the entire sky had not been enveloped at night, as if in a black row, and the field had not become as dark as under a sheepskin coat. From a distance a light was just visible, and the horses, sensing a nearby stall, hurried, ears pricked and eyes fixed in the darkness. The light seemed to rush towards them, and a tavern appeared in front of the Cossacks, falling to one side, like a woman on the way from a merry christening. In those days, shinki were not what they are now. A good person could not only turn around, hit a turtledove or a hopak, he didn’t even have a place to lie down when the drunkenness got into his head and his legs began to write peace-he-po. The yard was filled with Chumatsky carts; under the branches, in the manger, in the entryway, some curled up, others turned around, snoring like cats. The shinkar alone, in front of the kagan, cut into tripes on a stick how many quarts and octams the Chumatsky heads had dried. The grandfather, having asked for a third of the bucket for three, went to the barn. All three lay down next to each other. Just before he had time to turn around, he sees that his fellow countrymen are already sleeping like a dead sleep. Having awakened the third Cossack who had accosted them, the grandfather reminded him of the promise he had made to his comrade. He stood up, rubbed his eyes and fell asleep again. There was nothing to do, I had to keep watch alone. In order to somehow disperse the sleep, he examined all the carts, checked on the horses, lit the cradle, came back and sat down again near his people. Everything was quiet, so it seemed that not a single fly flew by. So it seemed to him that, from behind a nearby cart, something gray was showing its horns... Then his eyes began to close so that he was forced to rub it with his fist every minute and rinse it with the remaining vodka. But as soon as they cleared up a little, everything disappeared. Finally, a little later, the monster again appears from under the cart... Grandfather widened his eyes as much as he could; but damned drowsiness clouded everything before him; his hands were numb; his head rolled off his head, and a deep sleep seized him so that he fell down as if dead. Grandfather slept for a long time, and when the sun had already become quite hot on his shaved top, he only pulled himself to his feet. Having stretched once or twice and scratched his back, he noticed that there were not as many carts standing there as there had been in the evening. The Chumaks, apparently, reached out even before the light. To his own - the Cossack is sleeping, but the Cossack is not there. Asking - no one knows; Only the top scroll lay in that place. Fear and thought took over the grandfather. I went to see the horses - neither my own nor Zaporozhye's! What would that mean? Suppose the Cossacks were taken by evil spirits; who are the horses? Having considered everything, the grandfather concluded that the devil must have come on foot, and since it was not close to the heat, he pulled off his horse. It hurt him deeply that he had not kept his Cossack word. “Well, he thinks, there’s nothing to do, I’ll go on foot: maybe I’ll come across some horse dealer on the road, coming from the fair, and somehow I’ll buy a horse.” I just grabbed my hat and there was no hat. The late grandfather clasped his hands as he remembered that yesterday he and the Cossack exchanged for a while. Who else would steal more than an unclean one? Here's the Hetman's messenger for you! So I brought you a letter to the queen! Then the grandfather began to treat the devil with such nicknames that, I think, he sneezed more than once in the heat. But cursing won’t help much: and no matter how much the grandfather scratched his head, he couldn’t come up with anything. What to do? He rushed to get someone else's mind: he gathered all the good people who were in the tavern at that time, Chumaks and just visiting people, and told him that such and such, such and such a tragedy had happened. The Chumaks thought for a long time, resting their chins on their batogs, turned their heads and said that they had not heard such a miracle in the baptized world that the devil would steal the hetman’s charter. Others added that when the devil and the Muscovite steal something, then remember it as they were called. Only the tavern sat silently in the corner. Grandfather approached him. When a person is silent. then, it’s true, I lost my mind a lot. Only the shaver was not so generous with his words; and if the grandfather had not reached into his pocket for five zlotys, he would have stood in front of him for nothing.

“I’ll teach you how to find the letter,” he said, taking him aside. Grandfather’s heart was relieved. “I can already see in your eyes that you are a Cossack and not a woman.” Look! Close to the tavern there will be a right turn into the forest. He’ll just start trying it on in the field so that you’ll be ready. Gypsies live in the forest and come out of their holes to forge iron on such a night as only witches ride on their pokers. What they really do, you have nothing to know. There will be a lot of knocking in the forest, but don’t go in those directions from where you will hear the knocking; and there will be a small path in front of you, past a burnt tree, along this path, walk, walk, walk... The thorns will scratch you, the thick hazel trees will block the road - you keep walking; and when you come to a small river, only then can you stop. There you will see who you need; Yes, don’t forget to put in your pockets what pockets are made for... You understand, both devils and people love this good. - Having said this, the shinkar went into his kennel and did not want to say another word.

The late grandfather was not exactly a cowardly man; sometimes he would meet a wolf and grab him right by the tail; he will walk between the Cossacks with his fists - everyone will fall to the ground like pears. However, something pricked his skin when he entered the forest in such a dead night. Even if there is a star in the sky. Dark and deaf, like a wine cellar; you could only hear that far, far above, overhead, a cold wind was blowing through the treetops, and the trees, like tipsy Cossack heads, were swaying wildly, whispering drunken rumors with their leaves. How it started to feel so cold that the grandfather remembered about his sheepskin coat, and suddenly, as if a hundred hammers were knocking through the forest with such a knock that his head began to ring. And, as if like lightning, it lit up the whole forest for a minute. Grandfather immediately saw a path making its way between small bushes. Here is the burnt tree and the thorn bushes! So, everything is as he was told; no, the shinkar did not deceive me. However, it was not entirely fun to push through the thorny bushes; In his life he had never seen the damned thorns and branches scratch so painfully: at almost every step he was forced to cry out. Little by little he got out into a spacious place, and, as far as he could notice, the trees thinned out and became as wide as his grandfather had ever seen on the other side of Poland. Lo and behold, a river flashed between the trees, black as blued steel. The grandfather stood by the shore for a long time, looking in all directions. On the other bank a fire is burning and, it seems, is about to go out, and again it is reflected in the river, trembling like a Polish nobleman in the clutches of Cossacks. Here is the bridge! “Well, only the damned little rattle can get through here.” Grandfather, however, stepped boldly and, sooner than anyone else could take out the horn to sniff tobacco, he was already on the other side. Now he just saw that there were people sitting near the fire, and such cute faces that at another time God knows what he would not have given to escape this acquaintance. But now, there was nothing to do, it was necessary to get involved. So the grandfather bowed to them almost from the waist: “God help you, good people!” At least one nodded his head; they sit and remain silent and pour something into the fire. Seeing one place unoccupied, the grandfather sat down himself without any pretense. Cute faces - nothing; nothing and grandfather. They sat in silence for a long time. Grandfather was already bored; let's rummage in his pocket, took out the cradle, looked around - no one was looking at him. “Already, good deeds, be gentle: as if in such a way that, roughly speaking, that... (the grandfather lived in the world a lot, already knew how to let the turuses in, and on occasion, perhaps, even in front of the king he would not have lost face in the dirt), so as not to forget myself, and not to offend you either, I have a cradle, and what the hell to light it with” 2. And at least a word to this speech; only one face shoved a hot brand straight into grandfather’s forehead, so that if he had not stepped aside a little, he might have said goodbye to one eye forever. Finally, seeing that time was passing in vain, he decided - whether the unclean tribe would listen or not - to tell the story. They put up their faces and ears, and extended their paws. The grandfather guessed: he took a handful of all the money that was with him and threw it in the middle of them, like dogs. As soon as he threw the money, everything in front of him was mixed up, the earth shook, and, as he had already - he couldn’t tell himself - he found himself almost in the thick of it. “My fathers!” - the grandfather gasped, having a good look: what kind of monsters! a face on a face, as they say, is not visible. The witches are as dead as sometimes happens when snow falls at Christmas: they are all dressed up, smeared, like little ladies at a fair. And everyone, no matter how many of them there were, danced some kind of devilish trope like they were drunk. They raised some dust, God forbid! A baptized person would have trembled at the mere sight of how high the demonic tribe was jumping. Grandfather, despite all his fear, was overcome with laughter when he saw how devils with dog faces, on German legs, wagging their tails, hovered around the witches, like guys around red girls; and the musicians punched their cheeks with their fists, like tambourines, and whistled with their noses, like horns. As soon as they saw their grandfather, they turned to him in a horde. Pig, dog, goat, bustard, horse snouts - they all stretched out and just like that they climbed in to kiss. Grandfather spat, such an abomination attacked! Finally they grabbed him and sat him at a table perhaps as long as the road from Konotop to Baturin. “Well, this is not entirely bad,” thought the grandfather, seeing pork, sausages, chopped onions with cabbage and a lot of all sorts of sweets on the table, “apparently, the devilish bastard does not keep fasts.” Grandfather does not bother you to know, he did not miss, on occasion, to grab this and that with his teeth. He ate, dead man, appetizingly; and therefore, without indulging in stories, he pulled a bowl of chopped lard and a ham of ham towards him, took a fork, not much smaller than the fork with which a peasant takes hay, grabbed the heaviest piece with it, placed a crust of bread and - lo and behold, and sent it to someone else's mouth. Right there, right next to your ears, and you can even hear someone’s muzzle chewing and clicking their teeth all over the table. Grandfather nothing; he grabbed another piece and, it seemed, caught it on his lips, but again not in his throat. The third time - again bypass. Grandfather became enraged; I forgot both fear and in whose clutches it is. Came to the witches:

Why are you, Herod’s tribe, planning to laugh at me? If you don’t give me my Cossack hat back this very hour, then I’ll be a Catholic if I don’t turn your pig snouts on the back of your head!

Before he had time to finish his last words, all the monsters showed their teeth and started laughing so hard that the grandfather’s soul sank.

OK! - squealed one of the witches, whom the grandfather considered to be the eldest over everyone because her face was almost the most beautiful of all. “We’ll give you the hat, but not before you play fool with us three times!”

What do you want me to do? Kozak sit down with the women in the fool! Grandfather denied, denied, finally sat down. They brought cards, greasy, the kind only our priests use to tell fortunes about suitors.

Listen! - the witch barked another time, - if you win at least once, it’s your hat; when you remain a fool all three times, then don’t be angry - not only the hat, maybe you won’t even see the light again!

Give it up, give it up, you little bastard! what will be will be.

Now the cards have been dealt. Grandfather took it in his hands - I don’t want to look, it’s such rubbish: at least there’s only one trump card for laughter. Of the ten suits, the eldest, there are not even pairs; and the witch keeps throwing down fives. I had to remain a fool! As soon as the grandfather managed to remain a fool, muzzles neighed, barked, and grunted from all sides: “Fool! Fool! Fool!

May you be spoiled, devilish tribe! - the grandfather shouted, plugging his fingers into his ears.

“Well, he thinks the witch cheated; Now I’ll hand it over myself.” Passed. Flashed his trump card. I looked at the cards: the suit was different, there were trump cards. And at first things went as well as possible; only the witch - five with kings! Grandfather has only trump cards in his hands; without thinking, without guessing for a long time, grab the kings by the mustache with all their trump cards.

Ge-ge! Yes, this is not the Cossack way! What are you covering, fellow countryman?

Like what? trump cards!

Maybe, in your opinion, these are trump cards, but in our opinion, no!

Lo and behold, it’s a really simple suit. What a devilry! I had to be a fool another time, and the devil began to tear at my throat again: “Fool, fool!” - so that the table shook and the cards jumped on the table. Grandfather got excited; passed for the last time. It's going well again. The witch is a five again; the grandfather covered and drew a hand full of trump cards from the deck.

Trump! - he cried, hitting the table with the card so that it rolled into a box; she, without saying a word, covered it with an eight suit.

What are you hitting, old devil?

The witch picked up the card: under it was a simple six.

Look, demonic deception! - said the grandfather and, out of frustration, slammed his fist as hard as he could on the table.

It was also fortunate that the witch had a bad suit; Grandfather, as if on purpose, had a couple at that time. He began to draw cards from the deck, but there was no urine: such rubbish was creeping in that the grandfather gave up. There is not a single card in the deck. He went like this, without looking, with a simple six; the witch accepted. “Here you go!” what's this? Uh, that’s right, something’s wrong!” So the grandfather slowly moved the cards under the table and crossed them: lo and behold, he had an ace, a king, and a jack of trump cards in his hands; and instead of a six, he dropped the steal.

Well, I was a fool! King of Trumps! What! accepted? A? Cat brat!.. Don’t you want an ace? Ace! jack!..

Thunder went through the heat, the witch was attacked by writhing, and out of nowhere the hat came crashing straight into the grandfather’s face.

No, that's not enough! - the grandfather shouted, plucking up his courage and putting on his hat. - If now my brave horse does not stand in front of me, then thunder will kill me in this very unclean place, when I do not cross all of you with the holy cross! - and he was already raising his hand, when suddenly horse bones rattled in front of him.

Here's your horse!

The poor fellow began to cry, looking at them like a foolish child. Sorry old friend!

Give me some kind of horse to get out of your nest!

The devil slammed his arapnik - the horse soared under him like fire, and the grandfather, like a bird, flew up

Fear, however, attacked him in the middle of the road, when the horse, not obeying either the cry or the reins, galloped through the gaps and swamps. No matter the places he had been to, the stories alone made him tremble. Once I looked at my feet and was even more frightened: an abyss! the steepness is terrible! But the satanic animal has no need: straight through it. Grandfather hold on: that was not the case. Over the stumps, over the hummocks, he flew headlong into the hole and hit the ground at the bottom so hard that it seemed to knock out his breath. At least, I didn’t remember anything about what happened to him at that time; and when I woke up a little and looked around, it was already quite dawn; Familiar places flashed before him, and he lay on the roof of his own hut.

The grandfather crossed himself when he got down. What the hell! what an abyss, what miracles can happen to a person! Look at your hands - everything is covered in blood; looked into the barrel of water that stood sticking out - and the face too. Having washed thoroughly, so as not to frighten the children, he slowly enters the hut; looks: the children are moving backwards towards him and, in fright, point their fingers at him, saying: “Pull up, kick up, swear, move bad, jump!” 3 And in fact, the woman sits, asleep in front of the comb, holds a spindle in her hands and, sleepy, bounces on the bench. The grandfather, quietly taking her hand, woke her up: “Hello, wife! Are you healthy? She looked for a long time, her eyes bulging, and finally she recognized her grandfather and told how she dreamed that the stove was moving around the house, throwing out pots, tubs, and God knows what else. “Well,” says the grandfather, “in your dreams, in reality for me. It is necessary, I see, to consecrate our hut; I have no need to hesitate now.” Having said this and rested a little, the grandfather took out a horse and did not stop either day or night until he reached the place and gave the letters to the queen herself. There the grandfather saw enough of such divas that he began to tell him for a long time after that: how they took him to chambers so high that if ten huts had been stacked one on top of the other, even then, perhaps, it would not have been enough. How he looked into one room - no; in another - no; in the third - not yet; in the fourth, not even; and in the fifth, lo and behold, she’s sitting herself, in a golden crown, in a brand-new gray scroll, in red boots, and eating golden dumplings. How she told him to fill a whole hat with tits, how... I can’t remember everything. The grandfather forgot to even think about his fuss with the devils, and if it happened that someone reminded him about it, the grandfather remained silent, as if it was not his business, and it took a lot of effort to beg him to retell everything as it happened. And, apparently, it was already as a punishment that he did not remember to consecrate the hut immediately after that, to the woman exactly every year, and precisely at that very time, such a miracle happened that she would dance, and that’s all. No matter what he does, his legs do their own thing, and just like that, he urges to start squatting.

Notes:

1 That is, fools. (Note by N.V. Gogol.)

2 Not available. (Note by N.V. Gogol.)

3 Look, look, mother is jumping like crazy! (Note by N.V. Gogol.)

A true story told by the sexton of the *** church

So you want me to tell you more about your grandfather? “Perhaps, why not amuse me with a joke?” Eh, old man, old man! What joy, what revelry will fall on your heart when you hear about something that happened in the world a long, long time ago, not even a year or a month old! And how else will some relative, grandfather or great-grandfather get involved - well, then wave your hand: so that I may choke at the akathist to the Great Martyr Barbara, if it doesn’t seem like you’re about to do all this yourself, as if you’ve climbed into your great-grandfather’s soul or great-grandfather’s soul it’s naughty in you... No, most of all to me are our girls and young women; just show yourself to them: “Foma Grigorievich, Foma Grigorievich! and chickpeas, maybe I'll be an insured Cossack! and chickpeas, chickpeas!..." tara ta ta, ta ta ta, and they will go, and they will go... Of course, it’s not a pity to tell you, but take a look at what happens to them in bed. After all, I know that each one is trembling under the blanket, as if she were struck by a fever, and would be glad to get headlong into her sheepskin coat. Scratch a rat with a pot, somehow hit a poker with its foot, and God forbid! and soul in your heels. And the next day nothing happened; is imposed again: tell her a terrible fairy tale and that’s all. What could I tell you? What if it comes to mind... Yes, I’ll tell you how the witches played with their late grandfather to hell. Just ask you in advance, gentlemen, do not confuse me, otherwise it will turn out to be such a mess that you will be ashamed to even put it in your mouth. The late grandfather, I must tell you, was not one of the simple Cossacks in his time. He knew and firmly - he was the one, and put the word title. On a holiday, the Apostle would be snatched away, so that now another priest would hide. Well, you yourself know that in those days, if you collected literate people from all over Baturin, then there was no need to add a hat, you could put them all in one handful. Therefore, there was nothing to be surprised at when everyone he met bowed to him almost to the waist.

Once, the noble hetman decided to send a letter to the Tsarina for something. The then regimental clerk, it’s not easy to take him, and I don’t remember his nickname... Viskryak is not Viskryak, Motuzochka is not Motuzochka, Goloputsek is not Goloputsek ... I only know that the tricky nickname begins somehow wonderfully,” he called his grandfather to him and told him that the hetman himself was dressing him up as a messenger with a letter to the queen. Grandfather did not like to get ready for a long time: he sewed the letter into his hat; brought out the horse; kissed his wife and his two, as he called them, piglets, one of which was the father of at least our brother; and raised such dust behind him, as if fifteen lads were planning to play porridge in the middle of the street. The next day, before the rooster crowed for the fourth time, the grandfather was already in Konotop. At that time there was a fair there: so many people poured through the streets that it was blurry in the eyes. But since it was early, he was still dozing, stretched out on the ground. Near the cow lay a reveler-boy with a nose as red as a bullfinch; far away she was snoring, sitting, buying flints, blue, shot and bagels; there was a gypsy lying under the cart; on a cart of Chumak fish; on the road itself, a bearded Muscovite with belts and mittens stretched out his legs... well, all sorts of rabble, as is usual at fairs. Grandfather paused to take a good look. Meanwhile, little by little, the yatki began to move: the railway tanks began to rattle their flasks; smoke rolled here and there in rings, and the smell of hot sweets wafted throughout the camp. It occurred to the grandfather that he had neither flint nor tobacco at the ready: so he went to wander around the fair. Before he had time to walk twenty steps, a Cossack came towards him. A reveler, you can see it in his face! Hot-red trousers, a blue zhupan, a bright colored belt, at his side a saber and a cradle with a copper chain right up to his heels - a Cossack and nothing more! Oh people! He will stand up, stretch out, move his brave mustache with his hand, rattle his horseshoes and - take off! but how it starts: the legs dance like a spindle in a woman’s hands; like a whirlwind, he pulls his hand along all the strings of the bandura, and then, leaning on his sides, rushes in a squat; will burst into song - the soul is walking!.. No, time has passed: we won’t see the Cossacks again! Yes: that’s how we met; word for word, how long before we meet? They went to scribble and scribble, so that the grandfather had completely forgotten about his path. The drinking started like at a wedding before Lent. Only, apparently, he finally got tired of breaking pots and throwing money at people, and the fair won’t last forever! So new friends came to an agreement so as not to be separated and to keep the path together. It was long before evening when they went out into the field. The sun has gone to rest; here and there reddish stripes burned instead; The fields were full of fields, like the festive planks of black-browed young women. Our Cossack got a terrible supply. The grandfather and another reveler who had wandered towards them were already thinking whether a demon had entered him, where everything was coming from. The stories and sayings are so outlandish that the grandfather grabbed his sides several times and almost burst out laughing. But the field became darker as it went on; and at the same time the brave rumor became more incoherent. Finally, our narrator became completely silent and flinched at the slightest rustle. “Hey, hey, fellow countryman! Yes, you started counting owls in earnest. You’re already thinking about going home and going to the stove!” “There’s nothing to hide in front of you,” he said, suddenly turning around and motionlessly fixing his eyes on them. “Do you know that my soul has long been sold to the unclean.” - “What an incredible thing! Who in his life has not had contact with the unclean? This is where you need to walk in the dust, as they say.” - “Oh, guys! I would have walked, but on this night, well done! Hey brothers! - he said, slapping their hands, - hey, don’t give it away! don't sleep one night! I will never forget your friendship!” Why not help a person in such grief? Grandfather declared bluntly that he would rather let the donkey be cut off from his own head than allow the devil to sniff his Christian soul with a dog’s muzzle.

Our Cossacks would have traveled, perhaps, further, if the entire sky had not been enveloped at night, as if in a black row, and the field had not become as dark as under a sheepskin coat. From a distance a light was just visible, and the horses, sensing a nearby stall, hurried, ears pricked and eyes fixed in the darkness. The light seemed to rush towards them, and a tavern appeared in front of the Cossacks, falling to one side, like a woman on the way from a merry christening. In those days, shinki were not what they are now. A good person could not only turn around, hit a turtledove or a hopak, he didn’t even have a place to lie down when the drunkenness got into his head and his legs began to write peace-he-on. The yard was filled with Chumatsky carts; under the branches, in the manger, in the entryway, some curled up, others turned around, snoring like cats. The shinkar alone, in front of the Kagan, cut into tripes on a stick how many quarts and octams the Chumatsky heads had dried. The grandfather, having asked for a third of the bucket for three, went to the barn. All three lay down next to each other. Just before he had time to turn around, he sees that his fellow countrymen are already sleeping like a dead sleep. Having awakened the third Cossack who had accosted them, the grandfather reminded him of the promise he had made to his comrade. He stood up, rubbed his eyes and fell asleep again. There was nothing to do, I had to keep watch alone. In order to somehow disperse the sleep, he examined all the carts, checked on the horses, lit the cradle, came back and sat down again near his people. Everything was quiet, so it seemed that not a single fly flew by. So it seemed to him that, from behind a nearby cart, something gray was showing its horns... Then his eyes began to close so that he was forced to rub it with his fist every minute and rinse it with the remaining vodka. But as soon as they cleared up a little, everything disappeared. Finally, a little later, the monster again appears from under the cart... Grandfather widened his eyes as much as he could; but damned drowsiness clouded everything before him; his hands were numb; his head rolled off his head, and a deep sleep seized him so that he fell down as if dead. Grandfather slept for a long time, and when the sun had already become quite hot on his shaved top, he only pulled himself to his feet. Having stretched once or twice and scratched his back, he noticed that there were not as many carts standing there as there had been in the evening. The Chumaks, apparently, reached out even before the light. To his own - the Cossack is sleeping; but there is no Cossack. Asking - no one knows; Only the top scroll lay in that place. Fear and thought took over the grandfather. I went to see the horses - neither my own nor Zaporozhye's! What would that mean? Suppose the Cossacks were taken by evil spirits; who are the horses? Having considered everything, the grandfather concluded that the devil must have come on foot, and since it was not close to the heat, he pulled off his horse. It hurt him deeply that he had not kept his Cossack word. “Well,” he thinks, “there’s nothing to do, I’ll go on foot: maybe I’ll come across some horse dealer on the road, coming from the fair, and somehow I’ll buy a horse.” I just grabbed my hat and there was no hat. The late grandfather clasped his hands as he remembered that yesterday he and the Cossack exchanged for a while. Who else would steal more than an unclean one? Here's the Hetman's messenger for you! So I brought you a letter to the queen! Then the grandfather began to treat the devil with such nicknames that, I think, he sneezed more than once in the heat. But scolding won't help much; and no matter how much the grandfather scratched his head, he could not come up with anything. What to do? He rushed to get someone else's mind: he gathered all the good people who were in the tavern at that time, Chumaks and just visiting people, and told him that such and such, such and such a tragedy had happened. The Chumaks thought for a long time, resting their chins on their batogs; They turned their heads and said that they had not heard such a miracle in the baptized world that the hetman’s letter would be stolen by the devil. Others added that when the devil and the Muscovite steal something, then remember it as they were called. Only the tavern sat silently in the corner. Grandfather approached him. When a person is silent, he has probably lost a lot of his mind. Only the shaver was not so generous with his words; and if the grandfather had not reached into his pocket for five zlotys, he would have stood in front of him for nothing. “I’ll teach you how to find the letter,” he said, taking him aside. Grandfather’s heart was relieved. “I can already see in your eyes that you are a Cossack and not a woman.” Look! Close to the tavern there will be a right turn into the forest. He’ll just start trying it on in the field so that you’ll be ready. Gypsies live in the forest and come out of their holes to forge iron on such a night as only witches ride on their pokers. What they really do, you have nothing to know. There will be a lot of knocking in the forest, but don’t go in those directions from where you will hear the knocking; and there will be a small path in front of you, past a burnt tree, along this path, walk, walk, walk... The thorns will scratch you, the thick hazel trees will block the road - you keep walking; and when you come to a small river, only then can you stop. There you will see who you need; and don’t forget to put in your pockets what pockets are made for... You understand, this is good and devils, and people love it.” - Having said this, the shinkar went into his kennel and did not want to say another word.

The late grandfather was not exactly a cowardly man; sometimes he would meet a wolf and grab him right by the tail; he will walk between the Cossacks with his fists, everyone will fall to the ground like pears. However, something pricked his skin when he entered the forest in such a dead night. Even if there is a star in the sky. Dark and deaf, like a wine cellar; you could only hear that far, far above, overhead, a cold wind was blowing through the treetops, and the trees, like drunken Cossack heads, were swaying wildly, whispering drunken rumors with their leaves. How it started to feel so cold that the grandfather remembered about his sheepskin coat, and suddenly, as if a hundred hammers were knocking through the forest with such a knock that his head began to ring. And as if like lightning, the whole forest lit up for a minute. Grandfather immediately saw a path making its way through small bushes. Here is the burnt tree and thorn bushes! So, everything is as he was told; no, the shinkar did not deceive me. However, it was not entirely fun to push through the thorny bushes; In his life he had never seen the damned thorns and branches scratch so painfully: at almost every step he was forced to cry out. Little by little, he got out into a spacious place, and as far as he could see, the trees were thinning out and becoming as wide as he went, such as his grandfather had never seen on the other side of Poland. Lo and behold, a river flashed between the trees, black as blued steel. The grandfather stood by the shore for a long time, looking in all directions. On the other bank a fire is burning and, it seems, is about to go out, and again it is reflected in the river, trembling like a Polish nobleman in the clutches of Cossacks. Here is the bridge! Well, only the damned little rattle can get through here. Grandfather, however, stepped boldly, and sooner than anyone else could take out a horn and sniff tobacco, he was already on the other side. Now he just saw that there were people sitting near the fire, and such pretty faces that at another time, God knows what he would not have given to escape this acquaintance. But now, there was nothing to do, it was necessary to get involved. So the grandfather bowed to them, almost to the waist: “God help you, good people!” At least one nodded his head; they sit and remain silent and pour something into the fire. Seeing one seat unoccupied, the grandfather sat down himself without any pretense. Cute faces are nothing; nothing and grandfather. They sat in silence for a long time. Grandfather was already bored; let's rummage in his pocket, took out the cradle, looked around - no one was looking at him. “Already, good deeds, be kind: as it were, so that, roughly speaking, that... (Grandfather lived in the world quite a bit, he already knew how to let turuses in and, on occasion, perhaps, even in front of the king, would not have thrown his face into the dirt) so that , roughly speaking, and I won’t forget myself, and I won’t offend you either - I have a cradle, and I have something to light it with, damn" And at least a word to this speech; only one face shoved a hot brand straight into grandfather’s forehead, so that if he had not stepped aside a little, he might have said goodbye to one eye forever. Finally, seeing that time was passing in vain, he decided - whether the unclean tribe would listen or not - to tell the story. They put up their faces and ears, and extended their paws. Grandfather guessed; He took a handful of all the money that was with him and threw it into their midst like dogs. As soon as he threw in the money, everything in front of him was mixed up, the earth began to tremble, and how, he couldn’t tell himself, he found himself almost in the thick of it. My fathers! the grandfather gasped, having a good look: what a monster! a face on a face, as they say, is not visible. The witches are so dead, as sometimes happens at Christmas when snow falls: they are discharged, smeared, like little ladies at a fair. And everyone, no matter how many of them there were, danced some kind of devilish trope like they were drunk. They raised some dust, God forbid! A baptized person would have trembled at the mere sight of how high the demonic tribe was jumping. Grandfather, despite all his fear, began to laugh when he saw how devils with dog faces, on German legs, twirling their tails, hovered around the witches, like guys around red girls; and the musicians punched their cheeks with their fists, like tambourines, and whistled with their noses, like horns. As soon as they saw their grandfather, they turned to him in a horde. Pig, dog, goat, bustard, horse snouts, all stretched out, and just like that, they started to kiss. Grandfather spat, such an abomination attacked! Finally they grabbed him and sat him at a table, perhaps as long as the road from Konotop to Baturin. “Well, this is not entirely bad,” thought the grandfather, seeing pork, sausages, chopped onions with cabbage and a lot of all sorts of sweets on the table, “apparently the devilish bastard does not keep fasts.”

Grandfather, it doesn’t bother you to know, he didn’t miss the opportunity to grab this and that with his teeth. The dead man ate appetizingly; and therefore, without going into stories, he pulled a bowl of chopped lard and a ham of ham towards him; He took a fork, not much smaller than the fork with which a peasant takes hay, grabbed the heaviest piece with it, put a crust of bread and - lo and behold, he sent it into someone else's mouth. Right next to your ears, and you can even hear someone’s muzzle chewing and clicking their teeth all over the table. Grandfather nothing; he grabbed another piece and, it seemed, caught it on his lips, but again not in his throat. The third time - again missed. The grandfather became enraged: he forgot both fear and in whose clutches he was. He ran up to the witches: “Why are you, Herod’s tribe, planning to laugh at me?” If you don’t give me back my Cossack hat right now, then I’ll be a Catholic if I don’t turn your pig snouts on the back of your head!” Before he had time to finish his last words, all the monsters showed their teeth and started laughing so hard that the grandfather’s soul sank. "OK! - squealed one of the witches, whom the grandfather considered to be the eldest over everyone because her face was almost the most beautiful of all, - we’ll give you the hat, but not before you play with us three times. fool! What do you want me to do? Kozak sit down with the women in the fool! Grandfather refused, denied, and finally sat down. They brought cards, greasy, the kind only our priests use to tell fortunes about suitors. "Listen! - the witch barked another time, - if you win at least once, your hat; when you remain a fool all three times, then don’t be angry, not only your hat, maybe you won’t even see the light again!” - “Give it up, give it up, you little bastard!” what will be will be.”

Gogol “The Missing Letter”, illustration

Now the cards have been dealt. Grandfather took it in his hands - I don’t want to look, it’s such rubbish: at least there’s only one trump card for laughter. Of the ten suits, the eldest, there are not even pairs; and the witch keeps throwing down fives. I had to remain a fool! Grandfather had just managed to remain a fool when faces neighed, barked, and grunted from all sides: “You fool! fool! fool! - “May you be spoiled, devilish tribe!” - the grandfather shouted, plugging his fingers into his ears. “Well,” he thinks, “the witch cheated; Now I’ll hand it over myself.” Passed. Flashed his trump card. I looked at the cards: the suit was different, there were trump cards. And at first things went as well as possible; only the witch five with kings! Grandfather has only trump cards in his hands; without thinking, without guessing for a long time, grab the kings by the mustache with all their trump cards. "Heh, heh! Yes, this is not the Cossack way! What are you hiding, fellow countryman?” - “Like what? trump cards! - “Maybe in your opinion these are trump cards, but in our opinion they are not!” Lo and behold, it’s a really simple suit. What a devilry! I had to be a fool another time, and the devil began to tear my throat again: “fool, fool!” - so that the table shook and the cards jumped on the table. Grandfather got excited; passed for the last time. It's going well again. The witch is a five again; the grandfather covered and drew a hand full of trump cards from the deck. "Trump!" - he cried, hitting the table with a card so that it rolled into a box; she, without saying a word, covered it with an eight suit. “And what are you, old devil, hitting with!” The witch picked up the card: under it was a simple six. “Look, demonic deception!” - said the grandfather and, out of frustration, slammed his fist as hard as he could on the table. It was also fortunate that the witch had a bad suit; Grandfather, as if on purpose, had a couple at that time. He began to draw cards from the deck, but there was no urine: such rubbish was creeping in that the grandfather gave up. There is not a single card in the deck. He went, already without looking, in a simple six; the witch accepted. “Here you go!” what's this? uh, uh, that’s right, something’s wrong!” So, grandfather slowly moved the cards under the table and crossed them; lo and behold, he has an ace, a king, and a jack of trump cards in his hands; and instead of a six, he dropped the steal. “Well, I was a fool! I was a fool! King of Trumps! What! accepted? A? Cat brat!.. Don’t you want an ace? Ace! jack!..” Thunder went through the inferno; the witch was attacked by writhing, and, out of nowhere, the hat hit the grandfather right in the face. “No, that’s not enough! - the grandfather shouted, plucking up his courage and putting on his hat. “If, this hour, my horse does not become brave before me, then thunder will kill me in this very unclean place, when I do not cross all of you with the holy cross!” - and he was already raising his hand, when suddenly horse bones rattled in front of him. “Here is your horse!” The poor fellow began to cry, looking at them like a foolish child. Sorry old friend! “Give me some kind of horse to get out of your nest!” The devil slammed his arapnik - the horse soared under him like fire, and the grandfather, like a bird, flew to the top.

Fear, however, attacked him in the middle of the road, when the horse, not obeying either the cry or the reins, galloped through the gaps and swamps. No matter the places he had been to, the stories alone made him tremble. Once I looked at my feet and became even more frightened: an abyss! the steepness is terrible! But the satanic animal has no need; right through it. Grandfather hold on: that was not the case. Over the stumps, over the hummocks, he flew headlong into the hole and hit the ground at the bottom so hard that it seemed to knock out his breath. At least, I didn’t remember anything about what happened to him at that time; and when I woke up a little and looked around, it was already quite dawn; Familiar places flashed before him, and he lay on the roof of his own hut.

The grandfather crossed himself when he got down. What the hell! what an abyss, what miracles can happen to a person! Look at your hands - everything is covered in blood; he looked into the barrel of water standing sideways - and his face too. Having washed thoroughly, so as not to frighten the children, he slowly enters the hut; looks: the children are moving backwards towards him and, in fright, point their fingers at him, saying: “ Throw up, lift up, swear words, mov bad, gallop! “And in fact, the woman sits, asleep in front of the comb, holds a spindle in her hands and sleepily bounces on the bench. The grandfather, quietly taking her hand, woke her up: “Hello, wife! Are you healthy? She looked for a long time, her eyes bulging, and finally recognized her grandfather and told how she dreamed that the stove was moving around the house, throwing out pots, tubs and God knows what else. “Well,” says the grandfather, “in your dreams, in reality for me. It is necessary, I see, to consecrate our hut; I have no need to hesitate now.” - Having said this and rested a little, the grandfather took out a horse and did not stop either day or night until he reached the place and gave the letters to the Queen herself. There the grandfather saw such divas that he began to tell him for a long time after that. How they took him to the chambers, so high that if ten huts had been stacked one on top of the other, even then, perhaps, it would not have been enough. How he looked into one room - no; in the other - no; in the third - not yet; in the fourth, not even; and in the fifth, lo and behold, she’s sitting herself, in a golden crown, in a brand-new gray scroll, in red boots and eating golden dumplings. As she told him to pour a whole hat tits, how... - it’s impossible to remember everything. The grandfather forgot to even think about his fuss with the devils, and if it happened that someone reminded him about it, the grandfather remained silent, as if it was not his business, and it took a lot of effort to beg him to retell everything as it happened. And, apparently, already as a punishment for not realizing, immediately after that, to consecrate the hut, the woman exactly every year, and precisely at that very time, such a miracle happened that she danced, it happened, and that’s all. No matter what he does, his legs do their own thing, and so he urges to start squatting.

That is, into fools.

Not available.

Look! Look! Mother is jumping like crazy!

“The Missing Letter” or, as Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol himself called it, “The Story Told by the Sexton...” is a story written by a classic in the late 20s - early 30s of the 19th century.

Included in the famous Gogol cycle “Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka”. It is one of the most popular works (along with “Sorochinskaya Fair”, “May Night, or the Drowned Woman”, etc.) written by Nikolai Gogol. The summary (“The Missing Letter” is a small work, but perhaps not everyone has time to read the original) will help you get acquainted with the story in just 5 minutes!

History of the creation of the work:

The very first drafts of the work, which are generally considered a draft, were written on four voluminous sheets (taking into account the back) in rather small handwriting, with a large number of corrections and various kinds of blots. The draft version does not have a title.

Everyone knows a certain mysticism, mystery, and ambiguity that Nikolai Gogol introduced into each of his works. The summary (“The Missing Letter” in terms of the atmosphere of mystery does not stand out from the general series), we hope, will allow you to experience this to the fullest.

Differences between the original version and the final one

It is worth noting that the original version of the work “The Missing Letter” was much larger in volume. According to historians who study draft versions of the story, the current story lacks not only some descriptions, but also entire fragments, which sometimes even leads to discrepancies.

For example, the final content did not include: an episode with pots that puffed up their cheeks, some details regarding the description of the old man’s journey from the hell, during which he saddled a lame man.

It has not yet been possible to determine the exact date of writing the story “The Missing Letter”. The fact is that the autograph of a work can say little: it cannot be used to determine either the place or time of writing.

In what years was the work written?

Almost all literary scholars are convinced that the story was started by Gogol in 1828. This is evidenced by his letter to his mother, dated May 1829. In it, Nikolai Vasilyevich asks to describe in detail various card games that were popular in Ukraine at that time.

Proof that “The Missing Letter” was completed no later than the spring of 1831 can be served by the fact that it was first published in the first book of “Evenings...”, and Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol received censorship permission for its publication on May 26, 1831.

“The Missing Letter” was written in the form of a story on behalf of a certain Foma Grigorievich, who tells his listeners, who constantly ask him for “some kind of insurance Cossack”, such stories that, in his own words, “they then tremble all night under the blanket” .

He begins to talk about one interesting incident that allegedly happened to his own grandfather, who was once entrusted by the hetman with the task of delivering a letter to the queen.

Having said goodbye to his family, the grandfather hit the road. The next morning he was already at the Konotop fair. The royal charter at that time was in a safe, secure place - sewn into a hat. Not afraid of losing it, the main character of the story decided to get “flint and tobacco” here.

While walking around the fair, he became friends with a certain Cossack reveler. Together with him and another Cossack, who tagged along with his friends, the grandfather set off further.

During the conversation, the Cossack tells many interesting outlandish stories from his life. Carried away by the conversation, he tells his friends that he sold his soul to the devil, and the time of reckoning will come very soon (at night of that day). Our hero, in order to help the Cossack, makes him a promise not to sleep at night. The friends decide to stop at a nearby drinking establishment.

Grandfather's new friends quickly fall asleep, and for this reason he has to be on guard alone. However, no matter how hard the main character tries, sleep eventually overcomes him, and the grandfather falls asleep.

The next morning, when he wakes up, he discovers that there is no new Cossack comrade nearby, who sold his soul to the devil, no horses, no hat with a letter sewn into it.

Finding himself in a similar, not the best situation, the grandfather decides to ask advice from the Chumaks, who were also in the tavern at that moment. One of them told the hero where the devil could be found.

The next night, following the shinkar’s instructions, the grandfather goes into the forest, where, bypassing various obstacles, he finds a fire with “terrible faces” sitting around it.

Immediately after the hero told them about his situation and paid, he found himself in the “hell” at a table at which various monsters, creatures and evil witches were sitting.

One of the witches sitting at the table invited the grandfather to play the card game “fool” three times: if he wins, he will get his hat back with a certificate, and if he loses, he will stay here forever.

The main character loses twice in a row, but the third time, resorting to cunning, he still wins. After the plan worked, the missing letter returned back into the hands of his grandfather, the hero decides to get out of the “inferno.”

He woke up on the roof of his own house, covered in blood. Almost immediately, he immediately goes with a letter to the queen.

Having seen various kinds of “curiosities”, the main character temporarily forgets about what happened, but now once a year “various devilry” begins to happen in his house: for example, his wife started dancing against her will.

Screen adaptation

The story was filmed twice: in 1945 and in 1972. The first film adaptation was a cartoon of the same name, which retold the plot of the work in a simplified version.

The second was a full-length film. It repeated the plot of the work, but unlike the original, in the film “The Missing Letter” the characters were slightly different: for example, the main character was not a grandfather, but Vasil, a Cossack. There are also minor deviations from the plot.

This mystical work, quite in his own style, was written by Nikolai Gogol. The summary (“The Missing Letter” is one of the little-known stories in the cycle), of course, will not fully convey the charm of Gogol’s language, but will give an idea of ​​this fairy tale.

A true story told by the sexton of the *** church

So you want me to tell you more about your grandfather? - Perhaps, why not amuse me with a joke? Eh, old man, old man! What joy, what revelry will fall on your heart when you hear about something that happened in the world a long, long time ago, not even a year or a month old! And how else will some relative, grandfather or great-grandfather get involved - well, then wave your hand: so that I may choke at the akathist to the Great Martyr Barbara, if it doesn’t seem like you’re about to do all this yourself, as if you’ve climbed into your great-grandfather’s soul, or great-grandfather’s the soul is playing naughty in you... No, most of all to me are our girls and young women; just show yourself to them: “Foma Grigorievich, Foma Grigorievich!” and chickpeas, maybe I'll be an insured Cossack! and chickpeas, chickpeas!.. “Tara ta ta, ta ta ta, and they’ll go and go... Of course, it’s not a pity to tell you, but take a look at what happens to them in bed. After all, I know that each one is trembling under the blanket, as if she were struck by a fever, and would be glad to get headlong into her sheepskin coat. If a rat scratches a pot, it somehow touches the poker with its foot, and God forbid! and soul in your heels. And the next day nothing happened; is imposed again: tell her a terrible fairy tale and that’s all. What could I tell you? What if it doesn’t come to mind... Yes, I’ll tell you how the witches played fools with their late grandfather. Just ask you in advance, gentlemen, do not confuse me, otherwise it will turn out to be such a mess that you will be ashamed to even put it in your mouth. The late grandfather, I must tell you, was not one of the simple Cossacks in his time. He knew and was sure that he would put a title on it. On a holiday, the Apostle would be snatched away, so that now another priest would hide. Well, you yourself know that in those days, if you collected literate people from all over Baturin, then there was no need to add a hat - you could put them all in one handful. Therefore, there was nothing to be surprised when everyone he met bowed to him almost to the waist.

One day, the noble hetman decided to send a letter to the queen for something. The then regimental clerk, it’s not easy to take him, and I don’t remember his nickname... Viskryak is not Viskryak, Motuzochka is not Motuzochka, Goloputsek is not Goloputsek ...I only know that the tricky nickname begins somehow wonderfully,” he called his grandfather to him and told him that the hetman himself was dressing him up as a messenger with a letter to the queen. Grandfather did not like to get ready for a long time: he sewed the letter into his hat; brought out the horse; kissed his wife and his two, as he called them, piglets, one of which was the father of at least our brother; and raised such dust behind him, as if fifteen lads were planning to play porridge in the middle of the street. The next day, before the rooster crowed for the fourth time, the grandfather was already in Konotop. At that time there was a fair there: so many people poured through the streets that it was blurry in the eyes. But since it was early, he was still dozing, stretched out on the ground. Near the cow lay a reveler-boy with a nose as red as a bullfinch; far away she was snoring, sitting, buying flints, blue, shot and bagels; there was a gypsy lying under the cart; on a cart of Chumak fish; on the road itself, a bearded Muscovite with belts and mittens stretched out his legs... well, all sorts of rabble, as is usual at fairs. Grandfather paused to take a good look. Meanwhile, little by little, the yatki began to stir: the Jewish women began to rattle their flasks; smoke rolled here and there in rings, and the smell of hot sweets wafted throughout the camp. It occurred to the grandfather that he had neither flint nor tobacco at the ready: so he went to wander around the fair. Before he had time to walk twenty steps, a Cossack came towards him. A reveler, you can see it in his face! Hot-red trousers, a blue zhupan, a bright-colored belt, a saber at his side and a cradle with a copper chain right up to his heels - a Cossack and nothing more! Oh people! He will stand up, stretch out, move his brave mustache with his hand, rattle his horseshoes and - take off! but how it takes off: the legs dance like a spindle in a woman’s hands; like a whirlwind, he pulls his hand along all the strings of the bandura, and then, leaning on his sides, rushes into a squat; will burst into song - the soul is walking!.. No, a little time has passed: I won’t see the Cossacks again! Yes: that’s how we met. Word by word, how long before we meet? They went to scribble, scribble so much that the grandfather had completely forgotten about his path. The drinking started like at a wedding before Lent. Only, apparently, he finally got tired of breaking pots and throwing money at people, and the fair won’t last forever! So new friends came to an agreement so as not to be separated and to keep the path together. It was long before evening when they went out into the field. The sun has gone to rest; here and there reddish stripes burned instead; The fields were full of fields, like the festive planks of black-browed young women. Our Cossack got a terrible supply. The grandfather and another reveler who had tagged along with them began to think whether a demon had entered him. Where did it come from? The stories and sayings are so outlandish that the grandfather grabbed his sides several times and almost burst out laughing. But the field became darker as it went on; and at the same time the brave rumor became more incoherent. Finally, our narrator became completely silent and flinched at the slightest rustle. “Hey, hey, fellow countryman!” Yes, you started counting owls in earnest. You’re already thinking about going home and going to the stove!” “There’s nothing to hide in front of you,” he said, suddenly turning around and motionlessly fixing his eyes on them. “Do you know that my soul was sold to the unclean long ago?” - “What an incredible thing!” Who in his life has not had contact with the unclean? This is where you need to walk in the dust, as they say.” - “Oh, guys!” I would have walked, but on this night, well done! Hey, brothers!” he said, slapping their hands: “Hey, don’t give them away!” If you don’t sleep one night, I won’t forget your friendship!’ Why not help a person in such grief? Grandfather declared bluntly that he would rather let the sedentary be cut off from his own head than allow the devil to sniff his Christian soul with a dog’s muzzle.

Our Cossacks would have traveled, perhaps, further, if the entire sky had not been enveloped at night, as if in a black row, and the field had not become as dark as under a sheepskin coat. From a distance a light was just visible, and the horses, sensing a nearby stall, hurried, ears pricked and eyes fixed in the darkness. The light seemed to rush towards them, and a tavern appeared in front of the Cossacks, falling to one side, like a woman on the way from a merry christening. In those days, shinki were not what they are now. A good person could not only turn around, hit a turtledove or a hopak, he didn’t even have a place to lie down when the drunkenness got into his head and his legs began to write peace. The yard was filled with Chumatsky carts; under the branches, in the manger, in the entryway, some curled up, others turned around, snoring like cats. The shinkar alone, in front of the Kagan, cut into tripes on a stick how many quarts and octams the Chumatsky heads had dried. The grandfather, having asked for a third of the bucket for three, went to the barn. All three lay down next to each other. Just before he had time to turn around, he sees that his fellow countrymen are already sleeping like a dead sleep. Having awakened the third Cossack who had accosted them, the grandfather reminded him of the promise he had made to his comrade. He stood up, rubbed his eyes and fell asleep again. There was nothing to do, I had to keep watch alone. In order to somehow disperse the sleep, he examined all the carts, checked on the horses, lit the cradle, came back and sat down again near his people. Everything was quiet, so it seemed that not a single fly flew by. So it seemed to him that, from behind a nearby cart, something gray was showing its horns... Then his eyes began to close so that he was forced to rub it with his fist every minute and rinse it with the remaining vodka. But as soon as they became a little clearer, everything disappeared. Finally, a little later, the monster again appears from under the cart... Grandfather widened his eyes as much as he could; but damned drowsiness clouded everything before him; his hands were numb; his head rolled off his head, and a deep sleep seized him so that he fell down as if dead. Grandfather slept for a long time, and when the sun had already become quite hot on his shaved top, he only pulled himself to his feet. Having stretched once or twice and scratched his back, he noticed that there were not as many carts standing there as there had been in the evening. The Chumaks, apparently, reached out even before the light. To his own - the Cossack is sleeping; but there is no Cossack. Asking - no one knows; Only the top scroll lay in that place. Fear and thought took over the grandfather. I went to see the horses - neither my own nor Zaporozhye's! What would that mean? Suppose the Cossacks were taken by evil spirits; who are the horses? Having considered everything, the grandfather concluded that the devil must have come on foot, and since it was not close to the heat, he pulled off his horse. It hurt him deeply that he had not kept his Cossack word. “Well,” he thinks: “There’s nothing to do, I’ll go on foot: maybe I’ll come across some horse dealer on the road, coming from the fair, and somehow I’ll buy a horse.” I just grabbed my hat and there was no hat. The late grandfather clasped his hands as he remembered that yesterday he and the Cossack exchanged for a while. Who else would steal more than an unclean one? Here's the Hetman's messenger for you! So I brought you a letter to the queen! Then the grandfather began to treat the devil with such nicknames that, I think, he sneezed more than once in the heat. But scolding won't help much; and no matter how much the grandfather scratched his head, he could not come up with anything. What to do? He rushed to get someone else's mind: he gathered all the good people who were in the tavern at that time, Chumaks and just visiting people, and told him that such and such, such and such a tragedy had happened. The Chumaks thought for a long time, resting their chins on their batogs; They turned their heads and said that they had not heard such a miracle in the baptized world that the hetman’s letter would be stolen by the devil. Others added that when the devil and the Muscovite steal something, remember it as they were called. Only the tavern sat silently in the corner. Grandfather approached him. When a person is silent, he has probably lost a lot of his mind. Only the shaver was not so generous with his words; and if the grandfather had not reached into his pocket for five zlotys, he would have stood in front of him for nothing. “I will teach you how to find the letter,” he said, taking him aside. Grandfather’s heart was relieved. “I can already see in your eyes that you are a Cossack - not a woman. Look! Close to the tavern there will be a right turn into the forest. He’ll just start trying it on in the field so that you’ll be ready. Gypsies live in the forest and come out of their holes to forge iron on such a night as only witches ride on their pokers. What they really do, you have nothing to know. There will be a lot of knocking in the forest, but don’t go in those directions from where you will hear the knocking; and there will be a small path in front of you, past a burnt tree, along this path, go, go, go... The thorns will scratch you, the thick hazel will block the road - you keep going; and when you come to a small river, only then can you stop. There you will see who you need; Yes, don’t forget to put in your pockets what pockets are made for... You understand, this is good and devils, and people love it.” Having said this, the shinkar went into his kennel and did not want to say another word.

The late grandfather was not exactly a cowardly man; sometimes he would meet a wolf and grab him right by the tail; He will walk between the Cossacks with his fists - everyone will fall to the ground like pears. However, something pricked his skin when he entered the forest in such a dead night. Even if there is a star in the sky. Dark and deaf, like a wine cellar; you could only hear that far, far above, overhead, a cold wind was blowing through the treetops, and the trees, like tipsy Cossack heads, were swaying wildly, rustling drunken rumors with their leaves. How it started to feel so cold that the grandfather remembered about his sheepskin coat, and suddenly, as if a hundred hammers were knocking through the forest with such a knock that his head began to ring. And as if like lightning, the whole forest lit up for a minute. Grandfather immediately saw a path making its way through small bushes. Here is the burnt tree and thorn bushes! So, everything is as he was told; no, the shinkar did not deceive me. However, it was not entirely fun to push through the thorny bushes; Since his childhood he had never seen the damned thorns and branches scratch so painfully: at almost every step he was forced to cry out. Little by little, he got out into a spacious place, and, as far as he could notice, the trees thinned out and became as wide as his grandfather had ever seen on the other side of Poland. Lo and behold, a river flashed between the trees, black as blued steel. The grandfather stood by the shore for a long time, looking in all directions. On the other bank a fire is burning and, it seems, is about to go out, and is again reflected in the river, trembling like a Polish nobleman in the paws of Cossacks. Here is the bridge! Well, only the damned little rattle can get through here. Grandfather, however, stepped boldly, and sooner than anyone else could take out the horn to sniff tobacco, he was already on the other side. Now he just saw that there were people sitting near the fire, and such pretty faces that at another time, God knows, what he would not have given to escape this acquaintance. But now, there was nothing to do, it was necessary to get involved. So the grandfather bowed to them, almost to the waist: “God help you, good people!” At least one nodded his head; they sit and remain silent and pour something into the fire. Seeing one place unoccupied, the grandfather sat down himself without any pretense. Cute faces are nothing; nothing and grandfather. They sat in silence for a long time. Grandfather was already bored; let's rummage in his pocket, took out the cradle, looked around - no one was looking at him. “Already, good deeds, be kind: as if in such a way that, roughly speaking, that... (the grandfather lived in the world for a long time, he already knew how to let turuses in and, on occasion, perhaps, even in front of the king, he would not lose face in the dirt) so that , roughly speaking, and I won’t forget myself, and I won’t offend you either - I have a cradle, but I don’t know what to light it with, damn it.” And at least a word to this speech; only one face shoved a hot brand right into grandfather’s forehead, so that if he had not stepped aside a little, he might have said goodbye to one eye forever. Finally, seeing that time was passing in vain, he decided - whether the unclean tribe would listen or not - to tell the story. They put up their faces and ears, and extended their paws. The grandfather guessed: he took a handful of all the money that was with him and threw it in the middle of them as if to dogs. As soon as he threw the money, everything in front of him was mixed up, the earth began to tremble, and how - he couldn’t tell himself - he almost found himself in the thick of it. My fathers! the grandfather gasped, having a good look: what a monster! a face on a face, as they say, is not visible. The witches are so dead, as sometimes happens at Christmas when snow falls: they are discharged, smeared, like little ladies at a fair. And everyone, no matter how many of them there were, danced some kind of devilish trope like they were drunk. They raised some dust, God forbid! A baptized person would have trembled at the mere sight of how high the demonic tribe was jumping. Grandfather, despite all his fear, began to laugh when he saw how devils with dog faces, on German legs, twirling their tails, hovered around the witches, like guys around red girls; and the musicians punched their cheeks with their fists, like tambourines, and whistled with their noses, like horns. As soon as they saw their grandfather, they turned to him in a horde. Pig, dog, goat, bustard, horse snouts - they all stretched out, and so they started to kiss. Grandfather spat, such an abomination attacked! Finally, they grabbed him and sat him at a table, perhaps as long as the road from Konotop to Baturin. “Well, this is not entirely bad,” thought the grandfather, seeing pork, sausages, chopped onions with cabbage and a lot of all sorts of sweets on the table: “apparently, the devilish bastard does not keep fasts.” Grandfather does not bother you to know, he did not miss, on occasion, to grab this and that with his teeth. The dead man ate appetizingly; and therefore, without going into stories, he pulled a bowl of chopped lard and a ham of ham towards him; He took a fork, not much smaller than the fork with which a peasant takes hay, grabbed the heaviest piece with it, put a crust of bread and - lo and behold, he sent it into someone else's mouth. Right next to your ears, and you can even hear someone’s muzzle chewing and clicking their teeth all over the table. Grandfather nothing; he grabbed another piece and, it seemed, caught it on his lips, but again not in his throat. The third time - again bypass. Grandfather became enraged; I forgot both fear and in whose clutches it is. He ran up to the witches: “What are you, Herod’s tribe, planning to laugh at me?” If you don’t give me back my Cossack hat right now, then I’ll be a Catholic if I don’t turn your pig’s snouts on the back of your heads!” Before he could finish his last words, all the monsters showed their teeth and started laughing so hard that my grandfather’s soul went cold. . “Okay!” squealed one of the witches, whom the grandfather considered to be the eldest over everyone because her face was almost the most beautiful of all: “We’ll give you the hat, but not before you play fool with us three times!” “What do you want me to do? Kozak sit down with the women in the fool! Grandfather refused, denied, and finally sat down. They brought cards, greasy, the kind only our priests use to tell fortunes about suitors. “Listen!” the witch barked another time: “if you win even once, it’s your hat; when you remain a fool all three times, then don’t get angry, not only the hat, maybe you won’t even see the light of day again!” - “Give it up, give it up, you little bastard!” what will be will be." Now the cards have been dealt. Grandfather took it in his hands - I don’t want to look, it’s such rubbish: at least there’s only one trump card for laughter. Of the ten suits, the eldest, there are not even pairs; and the witch keeps throwing down fives. I had to remain a fool! Grandfather had just managed to remain a fool when faces neighed, barked, and grunted from all sides: “You fool!” fool! fool!“ - “May you be spoiled, devilish tribe!” shouted the grandfather, plugging his fingers into his ears. “Well,” he thinks: “the witch rigged it; Now I’ll take the exam myself.” Passed. Flashed his trump card. I looked at the cards: the suit was different, there were trump cards. And at first things went as well as possible; only the witch five with kings! Grandfather has only trump cards in his hands; without thinking, without guessing for a long time, grab the kings by the mustache with all their trump cards. “Heh, hey!” Yes, this is not the Cossack way! And what do you cover, fellow countryman?” - “Like what?” trump cards!“ “Perhaps in your opinion these are trump cards, but in our opinion they are not!” Lo and behold, it really is a simple suit. What a devilry! I had to be a fool another time, and the devil began to tear his throat again: “fool, fool!” so that the table shook and the cards jumped on the table. Grandfather got excited; I passed it last. It's going well again. The witch is a five again; the grandfather covered and drew a hand full of trump cards from the deck. “Trump card!” he cried, hitting the table with a card so that it rolled into a box; she, without saying a word, covered it with an eight suit. “What are you hitting, old devil?” The witch picked up the card: under it was a simple six. “Look, demonic deception!” said the grandfather and, out of frustration, slammed his fist as hard as he could on the table. It was also fortunate that the witch had a bad suit; Grandfather, as if on purpose, had a couple at that time. He began to draw cards from the deck, but there was no urine: such rubbish was creeping in that the grandfather gave up. There is not a single card in the deck. He went, already without looking, in a simple six; the witch accepted. “Here you go!” what's this? uh, uh, that’s right, something’s wrong!“ So, the grandfather slowly moved the cards under the table and crossed them; Lo and behold, he has an ace, a king, and a jack of trump cards in his hands; and instead of a six, he dropped the steal. “Well, I was a fool!” King of Trumps! What! accepted? A? Cat brat!.. Don’t you want an ace? Ace! jack!..” Thunder went through the inferno; the witch was attacked by writhing, and, out of nowhere, the hat hit the grandfather straight in the face. “No, that’s not enough!” the grandfather shouted, plucking up his courage and putting on his hat. “If my horse doesn’t stand up to me now, then thunder will kill me in this very unclean place, when I don’t cross you all with the holy cross!” and he was already raising his hand, when suddenly horse bones rattled in front of him. “Here is your horse!” The poor fellow cried, looking at them, like a foolish child. I feel sorry for my friend! “Give me some kind of horse to get out of your nest!” The devil slammed his arapnik - the horse, like fire, soared under him, and the grandfather, like a bird, flew up.

Fear, however, attacked him in the middle of the road, when the horse, not obeying either the cry or the reins, galloped through the gaps and swamps. No matter the places he had been to, just hearing the stories would make him tremble. Once I looked at my feet and was even more frightened: an abyss! the steepness is terrible! But the satanic animal has no need: straight through it. Grandfather hold on: that was not the case. Over the stumps, over the hummocks, he flew headlong into the hole and hit the ground at the bottom so hard that it seemed to knock out his breath. At least, I didn’t remember anything about what happened to him at that time; and when I woke up a little and looked around, it was already quite dawn; Familiar places flashed before him, and he lay on the roof of his own hut.

The grandfather crossed himself when he got down. What the hell! what an abyss, what miracles can happen to a person! Look at your hands - everything is covered in blood; He looked into the barrel of water that stood by its side - and his face too. Having washed thoroughly, so as not to frighten the children, he slowly enters the hut; looks: the children are moving backwards towards him and, in fright, point their fingers at him, saying: “ Throw up, lift up, swear words, bad language, gallop!“And in fact, the woman sits, asleep in front of the comb, holds a spindle in her hands and sleepily bounces on the bench. The grandfather, quietly taking her hand, woke her up: “Hello, wife!” Are you healthy?” She looked for a long time, her eyes bulging, and finally she recognized her grandfather and told how she dreamed that the stove was moving around the house, throwing out pots, tubs and God knows what else. “Well,” says the grandfather: “in your dreams, in reality for me.” It is necessary, I see, to consecrate our hut; I have no need to hesitate now.” Having said this and rested a little, the grandfather took out a horse and did not stop either day or night until he reached the place and gave the letters to the queen herself. There the grandfather saw such divas that he began to tell him for a long time after that: how they took him to chambers so high that if ten huts had been stacked one on top of the other, even then, perhaps, it would not have been enough. How he looked into one room - no; in another - no; in the third - not yet; in the fourth, not even; and in the fifth, lo and behold, she’s sitting herself, in a golden crown, in a brand-new gray scroll, in red boots and eating golden dumplings. How she told him to fill his whole hat with tits, how... - it’s impossible to remember everything. The grandfather forgot to even think about his fuss with the devils, and if it happened that someone reminded him about it, the grandfather remained silent, as if it was not his business, and it took a lot of effort to beg him to retell everything as it happened. And, apparently, it was already as a punishment that he did not remember to consecrate the hut immediately after that, to the woman exactly every year, and precisely at that very time, such a miracle happened that she would dance, and that’s all. No matter what he does, his legs do their own thing, and just like that, he urges to start squatting.