In the harvest, men and women went to work. Only the old and the young remained in the village. A grandmother and three grandchildren remained in one hut. Grandma turned off the stove and lay down to rest. Flies landed on her and bit her. She covered her head with a towel and fell asleep.
One of the granddaughters, Masha (she was three years old), opened the stove, heaped coals into a crock and went into the hallway. And in the entryway lay sheaves. The women prepared these sheaves for svyasla.
Masha brought coals, put them under the sheaves and began to blow. When the straw began to catch fire, she was delighted, went into the hut and brought her brother Kiryushka by the hand (he was one and a half years old and had just learned to walk), and said:
- Look, Kilyuska, what a stove I blew up. The sheaves were already burning and crackling. When the entryway was filled with smoke, Masha got scared and ran back to the hut. Kiryushka fell on the threshold, hurt his nose and began to cry; Masha dragged him into the hut, and they both hid under a bench. Grandmother heard nothing and slept.
The eldest boy Vanya (he was eight years old) was on the street. When he saw smoke coming from the hallway, he ran through the door, jumped through the smoke into the hut and began to wake up his grandmother; but the grandmother went crazy from her sleep and forgot about the children, jumped out and ran through the courtyards after the people.
Masha, meanwhile, sat under the bench and was silent; only a little boy I screamed because I had broken my nose painfully. Vanya heard his cry, looked under the bench and shouted to Masha:
- Run, you'll burn!
Masha ran into the hallway, but it was impossible to get past the smoke and fire. She came back. Then Vanya raised the window and told her to climb in. When she climbed through, Vanya grabbed his brother and dragged him. But the boy was heavy and did not give in to his brother. He cried and pushed Vanya. Vanya fell twice while he was dragging him to the window; the door to the hut was already on fire. Vanya stuck the boy’s head through the window and wanted to push him through; but the boy (he was very scared) grabbed hold of him with his little hands and did not let them go. Then Vanya shouted to Masha:
- Pull him by the head! - and he pushed from behind. And so they pulled him out the window onto the street and jumped out themselves.
Fire in Yasnaya Polyana
There was a fire in Yasnaya Polyana. Four yards burned down: two houses of the Frolkovs 1 - 2 , one of Boriskin 3 , and one of my brother’s houses 4 . The heat was unbearable and it was dry. Like gunpowder, all the buildings were instantly engulfed in flames. Lev Nikolaevich was also present when the fire was put out; He diligently took buckets of water from the well and poured it into the tubs. And the people wore tubs to the fire. Someone in a hurry hit L. N. on the forehead with a water-carrier and a sizable lump jumped up on him.
Fighting the fire, however, was unsuccessful. The houses burned to the ground and L.N., saddened, went home, regretting that he was unable to defend the peasant buildings.
As it turned out later, the fire started at my brother’s house. The reason was the samovar. From the grille of the samovar placed in the entryway, a spark hit the trap and this caused a flame to break out. My brother lost everything: rye, oats, a new cart box, chests with his wife’s and mother’s dresses. At that time I was in Ovsyanniki with M.A. Schmidt 5 . By the time I reached Yasnaya, there was nothing left of the courtyards except burnt stumps and collapsed stoves. The crying and howling of the fire victims tore my soul. My brother was not in the village; he had gone to the mill in the morning with a new product. It caught fire without it. I could not imagine his horror upon returning home. But then he appeared at the end of the village. He drove his horse like crazy. The fast ride caused the cart to bounce on the spikes and flour fell from the windings along the road. The brother jumped off the cart, looked at the fire and sobbed piercingly, like wild animal. His eyes grew dim, his hair became bristly, he tore off his caftan, grabbed the collar of his shirt and, tearing it, began hitting himself on his bare chest with all his might with his fist. And his chest made sounds like an empty barrel.
- Lord, what have you done to me? I bought you butter and constantly prayed, why did you punish me? - he screamed in madness.
I was afraid to approach him. “Has he gone crazy, will he bite again?” Finally, overcoming my fear, I turned to him:
- Vanya, you will despair - calm down!
He looked at me wildly, then wrapped his arms around me and began to kiss me on the shoulder: “Dear brother, I have become a beggar, I have become a beggar,” he howled. Our stepmother and his wife also cried. The rest of the fire victims also howled and wailed loudly. The children howled in despair. There were groans and screams above the village. While I was calming my brother, I saw Lev Nikolaevich come out of the alley, from the sour well. He had already changed into clean clothes and had a bandage on his forehead. He walked towards us. Noticing how my brother and I stood hugging each other, he walked past us, only looking at us silently. Approaching crying women, said:
- Lev Nikolaevich, I got burned! Now all that's left is this! - and he ran his finger across his throat. “The other day I just bought a new cart food, paid 8 rubles, and he died. What should I do? What should I do? All I had left were my trousers,” and he raised his leg and showed his bare knee.
- Well, somehow, Ivan, we’ll get through it, God will help. There is no need to despair,” noted L.N.
- Eh, Lev Nikolaevich, why God punished me. I honor all holidays, I don’t work, I light candles for all the saints. Eh, Lord, who have you offended?!
“There’s no need to grumble, Ivan.” God often sends us misfortunes, loving us, and we must endure trials with patience.
The brother grunted and continued:
- Lord, Lord, I found someone to offend! After all, I just surrounded the yard with a new fence.
He sniffed and wanted to howl again, but Lev Nikolaevich distracted him with a question:
- Ivan, where did you go?
- To the Goryachensky mill, to grind a quarter of the rye.
“Well, Ivan, I’ll give you some brushwood for the fence and something else.” Calm down, and calm down your mother and wife.
All three of them wanted to throw themselves at Lev Nikolaevich’s feet, but he said in a dissatisfied voice:
“Don’t do this,” and walked away from them.
He didn't like these bows.
I stood at a distance. Lev Nikolaevich, adjusting the bandage on his head, said in surprise:
- Vasily, where did you come from?
I told you.
“It’s terrible dryness, Vasily,” said L.N. “While I was running from the house, all four courtyards were already on fire.” No force would make it possible to defend them. It’s also good that it’s quiet, there’s no wind, otherwise it would have been even worse, half the village would have been blown away.
I stood near the cart. Lev Nikolaevich looked into it. He pulled back the rope to look at the flour. But there was no more flour than enough flour for bread alone.
L.N. asked:
- Ivan, where is your flour?
- In the cart. Where should she be? - the brother responded.
I pointed with L. N.’s eyes to the trail of flour along the road, L. N. guessed that Ivan did not know this yet. L.N. said, looking at me:
“Oh, how timely help is needed now,” and he headed towards the other fire victims.
Mother said to brother:
“Vanya-child, you need to cover the flour, otherwise it won’t rain.” The brother approached the cart and opened the rope. His face became crazy again. He flushed, his eyes wandered. He looked first at his wife, then at me.
Lev Nikolaevich’s words “timely help is needed” sank deeply into my soul. I hastened to tell my brother:
- Vania. You spilled flour along the way, the rope became thinner from the fast ride.
I was afraid that he would again begin to utter wild words, and in warning I said:
- But don’t push. There will be flour tomorrow,” and taking his wallet out of his side pocket, he gave his brother 45 rubles.
- This is for a log house, look, choose so that there is no hassle. And you will have flour tomorrow.
They hugged me and started kissing me. My stepmother began to ask the Queen of Heaven and Father Mikolay the Pleasant for various favors for me. Just as I bowed to Lev Nikolayevich, I didn’t like these praises and wanted to leave as quickly as possible. I said goodbye to everyone here, promising to be there again tomorrow. On the way, I stopped by the Frolkovs and Boriskovs, gave them three each, and, pleased with himself, quickly walked down the village to Ovsyanniki, where my horse and carriage remained. There was a struggle going on in my soul. “What a benefactor I am,” I thought at first, but immediately regretted the money. - “I spent a lot, a huge amount, 54 rubles. And the money was from the hammer, brand new, he replaced everything when he received 8 from the riders.” But then I remembered the words of L. N-cha, “timely help is needed.” And my soul was relieved. “After all, I only provided this necessary timely assistance.”
The next day I came to my brother. I came up with a plan to go with him to the villages to collect flour. I ordered him to lock up the horse and we rode off. My brother began to tell me that he would be ashamed to beg, he would not be able to beg for alms, but I consoled him, saying that I would beg myself. We took those villages in which we had fewer acquaintances: Myasnikovka, Vyselki, Gretsovka, and bypassed the rich, trading Kolpna. From Kolpna I did not expect anything other than a penny alms. And if they served it there, they would ask for a penny in change. I saw such a phenomenon in the city. They will give you a trifle, or they will simply say “God will provide,” but they will spend hundreds and thousands to decorate the temple in order to obtain the kingdom of heaven for themselves. The last village we visited was Dvoriki. We filled it with a cartload of rye and barely pulled the rope together.
We arrived at our courtyard in Yasnaya Polyana, the joy was indescribable. The mother put her hand into the cart and said:
- It’s so dry, there’s nothing to dry. Straight to the mill.
Satisfied, I said:
- Here's some rye and flour for you. Let the rich wonder what the naked feast on.
There were no more tears, there was joy and contentment on their faces. I said goodbye to my brother’s family and promised to be back in a week or two. Passing by the gates of the avenue, I stopped and thought:
- Should I go see L. N.? “But he stood there, waved his hand, and moved on.
- After sometime, and then, I suppose, guests are at home or not.
I returned home to Tula. As the saying goes: “If you miss a day, you won’t last a week.” My worker got drunk, didn’t bring in any money, spent the night at the station more than once, and ruined his horse. My loss was enormous, and my family greeted me with murmurs.
I spent a whole month improving my household. Finally, I put everything in order again and remembered my brother. “I’ll go and visit him, enjoy his construction, and see Lev Nikolaevich, I haven’t seen him for a long time.”
The brother’s building was nice, the hut was spacious: seven and eight arshins, there was a straight wood all around, no shortcuts, the yard was already surrounded by a new fence, divided into one section, all that remained was to cover the roof. It was fun for me to watch all this. Where recently there was sorrow, there is now joy. While drinking tea, my brother told me a lot about L.N. At the same time, the stepmother continually made the sign of the cross, turned to the holy corner and prayed to the “Queen of Heaven with Three Hands” to increase Lev Nikolaevich’s and my happiness tenfold.
“Yes, dear brother, Vasily Stepanych,” said the brother, “Lev Mikolaevich is not easy to understand. Only a smart, polished person can figure it out. But we still didn’t understand him; we were blind.
“He, Lev Nikolaevich, is a holy man,” whispered the stepmother and wiped her eyes with her apron.
“After the fire,” the brother continued, “Lev Nikolaevich began to visit us in the ashes every day, or even not once, but two, three times a day. Either he will talk to this person, or he will consult with another. He will walk through the fire, push some little stump with his foot, pick at something with a stick, dig up some piece of iron, pick it up, turn it in his hands, throw it to the side, say: “Don’t forget to put it away, this is a bracket, it will be useful for something else.” Then he’ll walk around the yard, take measurements in steps, take out a book, scribble something with a pencil... He went up to the stove, looked into it and said: “Ivan, your stove is only good for one year, put the rest with a pipe, you’ll need to bribe three hundred.” "...
Once he ordered those who had been burned to come to him in the evening. We're coming. He comes out to us and we see money and pieces of paper in his hand. He began to dress us up.
“Here’s 25 rubles for you for now, and then I’ll try to get some more, maybe I’ll have guests, I’ll ask them.”
We thanked him and were about to throw ourselves at his feet, but we remembered that he didn’t like it, so we didn’t.
- So, are you all insured? - he asked.
“Everyone,” we answered.
— Does anyone have any special insurance?
“No,” we answered, “just normal insurance.”
“You are looking for log cabins, and I will try to send you the insurance money as soon as possible.” Now you can chop brushwood and prepare stakes for the wattle fence. Then you will need slings, rafters, spans, and pads. I'll ask you from the Countess.
- Lev Nikolaevich, what about Semenkov? “All my rye burned,” said Dmitry Frolkov.
- Did yours burn too? - Lev Nikolaevich asked me.
- Well, okay, okay. Tell me how many seeds you need. I will write you a note to Kolpna, to Zyabrev, he will let you go.
We left him and couldn’t feel our feet under us with joy. It’s as if we didn’t even have a fire.
The brother paused his story, lit a cigarette, spat, and continued talking again.
— On the third or fourth day, in the evening we see Lev Nikolaevich walking quietly from below. (At this time I was clearing a place for construction). He goes to see Boriskin. I talked to him and gave him something. Then he comes to me, gives me three pentas, and says: “My guests gave me this money for you.”
Then he went to the Frolkovs and gave them an equal share. And a few days later he came again, gave us some money again, but only 5 rubles each and said:
- These guests were stingy.
The brother spat, threw away the cigarette butt and crushed it with his foot. The stepmother spoke:
- There are no more of them, Vasyushka, and there are no more of them in the world. He knows everything in the world, right down to the blade of grass. He goes into every need. He himself chopped brushwood with us, laid it on carts, was all torn up and plucked his beard, because it was a thorn. How can we not pray to God for him?
- What, you won’t be offended by me? - my brother asked me. “I told him everything about how you and I went to beg.”
- Why should I be offended? Well, did he ask you how it was?
- How I asked! And who decided to go and what villages they went to. I told him, and he kept saying with a smile: “Oh, how good, how good!” - “Well, how did you beg?” - he asked. I said. We’ll put the horse in the middle of the village, you’ll go to someone, tell us about our need, and they’ll carry it to us, some with an ounce, some with half a measure, and some with a full sieve. One woman poured out a handful and said: “Eat for your health,” and went away.
- How good! How good! - said L.N. - This is how everyone needs to help each other in need. When you see your brother, tell him to come to me. “Now, brother, you’ll have to go to him too, he’s curious, he’ll ask you questions too.”
My brother told me another story that greatly upset me: about how he deceived Lev Nikolaevich.
“I needed a more level bipod,” said my brother, “for the corner of the barn.” They were, but a bit runny. I think I’ll go to Lev Nikolaevich and ask for a couple. I come to the house, and he’s standing under a bell near a tree, talking to some tramp. And a wonderful man, to be honest, eager to talk to everyone; no one else would have seen him. He looked at me and said:
- What do you need?
— I need a couple of bipods, but I didn’t have enough.
L.N. thought and said:
- Ivan, if you have them cut up, ready-made, take a couple, but if not, then cut them, and try to get to the very root so that it’s not noticeable.
“Thank you, Lev Nikolaevich,” I said and asked: “What, should I convey it to the Countess as you said?”
- No, go, I’ll do it myself.
I went, and he started talking to the tramp. Well, I think I'll live now. I know when the clerk drives around the forest, he just doesn’t catch his eye. He arrived in the forest, picked up two oak trees, so hard to grasp, almost tore off the guts, took them away and was never seen by anyone. I march another time, again no one saw me. Wait, I think I'll live one more time. So I turned him around five times, on the fifth time the clerk saw me and said: “Ivan, where did you get the oak?” - I say, from the Order. “Who ordered you?” “I asked Lev Nikolaevich for a couple, he told me to.” “Does the countess know?” - “L.N. told her.” - “Well, I can handle it,” I went myself. In total, instead of two oak trees, I brought 10.
After listening to my brother's story, I said:
“You shouldn’t have done all this.” You stole the oaks. The countess finds out that she and Lev Nikolaevich will have a quarrel. You know, the Countess is perky. And if you hadn’t seen the clerk, would you have gone for tea 10 more times and would have been left completely empty-handed?
I felt my brother and scolded Lev Nikolaevich, saying that his kindness only breeds thieves, and I decided to talk to Lev Nikolaevich about this.
Soon I had to see Lev Nikolaevich. I came to ask him for some books. Came at 5 o'clock, during lunch itself. There were a lot of people sitting on the terrace, rattling spoons and plates. A lively conversation was heard. I walked unnoticed to the tree under the bell. But I felt embarrassed that I could be seen from the terrace. There were no familiar faces. Lev Nikolaevich sat in the middle, talked little, occasionally glanced at someone, looked up from the plate, said something and again took a spoon from the plate. I climbed from the tree through the ditch to the garden. Lunch is over. Everyone left the terrace. One footman remained to clear away the dishes. I approached him, the footman Sergei Petrovich Arbuzov 9 was good man, my school friend. He said: “L. N. is now going to Kozlovka to get the mail, wait, and you’ll go with him.”
I was very happy about this occasion and went forward to meet L. N. somewhere behind the estate.
I sat down on the ditch. I didn't wait long. I see L.N. coming from the estate. He has a crutch stick hanging from his left arm to his elbow.
I stood up in the ditch and wanted to tell him, as in childhood:
- Hello, Uncle Agathon, Mr. Butler! - but thought that it would be inappropriate, and simply said:
— Hello, Lev Nikolaevich!
L.N. threw his head up and said in surprise:
- Ah, Vasily Morozov. Do I see you? Where are you going?
— To ask you, Lev Nikolaevich, for some books.
- What did you read?
— So-so various novels, newspapers. I recently read a book about the robber Churkin 10.
- No offense to you, Lev Nikolaevich, I also read your book, which makes a lot of noise and thunders throughout the world - “War and Peace.” But I’ll tell you to my liking, I didn’t like her.
- Why?
- I don’t know how to explain it. All these Volkonskys, Pierres, Bonapartes, Kutuzovs are incomprehensible to our brother.
- Yes, Vasily, it was written for secular idle people and I myself lived in a worldly way then. Now I regret that I spent a lot of time on such writings.
Saying this, Lev Nikolaevich looked at the ground gloomily, seriously.
We crossed the highway, turned to the side, followed a forest, a path. L.N. walked in silence. I was silent, and a swarm of memories flashed through my head. I remembered how 25 years ago I was a schoolboy. Here I am walking with my teacher Lev Nikolaevich, he was then a gypsy as black as a beetle, he was terribly fond of all kinds of fun, and he amused us with various inventions. Oh, how quickly that happy time passed! Now I’m already 40 years old, I already have a beard and it’s no longer Vaska, but Vasily, and I’m walking not with a black teacher, but with an old man with a white beard and a serious, intense look.
Lev Nikolaevich and I walked a little through the forest and L.N., freed from some thought of his, said:
- Vasily, there is dead wood over there. Let’s go sit,” he pointed with a stick.
We sat down on a dead tree covered in moss. Lev Nikolaevich poked the end of the stick into the dead wood and said:
- Completely rotten.
L.N. took off his hat, placed it near him and said:
- Warm. God doesn't give rain. Steam is not allowed to plow. (At that time Lev Nikolaevich was cultivating the land for peasant widows).
We were silent for a while, then L.N. turned his head towards me and put his hand on my shoulder. His face began to widen, his nose spread apart and he smiled affectionately.
“I know, I know, Vasily, about your action.”
- About what action? It seems that I don’t know anything bad about myself, although I can’t boast of anything good.
“No, no, about a good deed, how you and your brother went to the collection, collecting rye for him,” said L.N., continuing to hold his hand on my shoulder and looking at me with tenderness. - After all, you did so well, so well, just in the Gospel. You felt sorry for your brother, and people felt sorry for you. They also fell in love. And how a woman brought a handful of rye, poured it out and said: “Eat for good health.” It's just like the widow's mite.
Yes, if we understood the power of this love and lived by it, then all the misfortunes and suffering of people would cease. This is all the happiness of people.
Under the influence of L. N.'s words, my soul softened and I felt that I could no longer reproach him for his kindness to people. I even felt ashamed that I had such an intention.
The weather was damp. I felt sorry for L. N. and said:
- Lev Nikolayevich, put on a hat, he’s growing up, you might get a runny nose.
L.N. threw his hat on his head and said:
— You must be in a hurry to Tula? Well, let's go out onto the road.
Going to Kozlovka, L.N. asked if I was thinking of leaving the city soon and moving to the village. This was his constant question to me, and my answer was always that I could not do this because of the lack of land.
At Kozlovka we said goodbye, and Lev Nikolaevich again wished me to return to the village.
Soon I received from L. N. the books of Marcus Aurelius 11, the teachings of Epictetus 12, Diogenes 13, Socrates 14, “The Flower Garden” 15, excerpts from the works of Tikhon of Zadonsk 16. I read and re-read all these books.
Now Lev Nikolaevich is no longer there. When I have to go from Kozlovka to Yasnaya Polyana to the grave of L. N., I never miss the place where we once sat with him on a rotten tree overgrown with moss. And I clearly see his face, his gentle smile and hear the words that people’s happiness lies only in love.
V. S. Morozov
July, 1912 Chertkov Farm.
Notes
Morozov Vasily Stepanovich (1849-1914) - Yasnaya Polyana peasant. As a boy he studied at the Yasnaya Polyana school of L.N. Tolstoy (1859-1863). One of the most gifted and beloved students of L. N. Tolstoy, whom he described under the name of Fedka in the article “Who should learn to write from whom: the peasant children from us or from the peasant children?” Subsequently, V.S. Morozov sold his land and worked as a cab driver in the city of Tula. V. Morozov is the author of several published stories and memoirs about L. N. Tolstoy.
In his memoirs “Fire in Yasnaya Polyana” V.S. Morozov talks about the fire on August 5, 1890, when the houses of the peasants Andrian Ignatievich Frolkov, his cousin Frolkov Dmitry Yakovlevich, Boriskin Pyotr Samoilovich, one of the poorest and with a large family, and the house of the half-brother of the author of the memoirs Morozov Ivan Stepanovich (the son of Stepan Mikhailovich Morozov from his second marriage to Anisya Timofeevna). None of the peasant memoirs describe this fire in such detail and colorfully.
L.N. Tolstoy also noted this phenomenon in his diary. On August 6, 1890, he writes: “I went for a swim, and from there to the pool: we came from the mill. I began to console Andrian, while consoled, I approached Morozov and became limp myself. Sonya is there with the money. It was very joyful” (PSS. T. 51. P. 72).
1 Frolkov Andrian Ignatievich (born 1831) - Yasnaya Polyana peasant, son of Frolkov Ignat Andreevich.
2 Frolkov Dmitry Yakovlevich (born 1852) - Yasnaya Polyana peasant, son of Frolkov Yakov Andreevich, student of the Yasnaya Polyana school of L. N. Tolstoy in the 60s.
3 Boriskin (Borisov) Pyotr Samoilovich - Yasnaya Polyana peasant, nephew of Boriskin Tit Borisovich.
4 Morozov Ivan Stepanovich (1857-1930) - Yasnaya Polyana peasant, half-brother of the author of the memoirs.
5 Schmidt Maria Alexandrovna (1843-1911) - former class lady of the Moscow Nikolaev School; an acquaintance of L.N. Tolstoy since 1884, who corresponded with him, a friend and follower of his teachings.
6 Morozova Anisya Timofeevna, Yasnaya Polyana peasant woman, second wife of Stepan Mikhailovich Morozov, mother of Ivan Stepanovich Morozov, stepmother of the author of the memoirs.
7 Marfa Sergeevna Frolkova, Yasnaya Polyana peasant woman, wife of Dmitry Yakovlevich Frolkov.
8 Gusev's note: V. Morozov was a cab driver in Tula.
9 Arbuzov Sergei Petrovich (1849-1904) - peasant of the village of Danilovka, Krapivensky district, Tula province, son of the Tolstoy nanny Maria Afanasyevna Arbuzova. For a short time he was a student at the Yasnaya Polyana school. Lackey in the Tolstoys' house.
10 “The Robber Churkin” is an adventurous story common in popular prints, adapted from a pulp novel by N. Pastukhov. He enjoyed enormous popularity among the people.
11 Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (121-180 AD) - Roman emperor, Stoic philosopher.
12 Epictetus (c. 50 - c. 138 AD) - Roman Stoic philosopher.
13 Diogenes (c. 412-323 BC) - Greek philosopher.
14 Socrates (469-399 BC) - ancient Greek idealist philosopher.
15 “The Flower Garden” is a collection of stories compiled by employees of the publishing house “Posrednik”, to which Tolstoy wrote a preface in April 1886 (see PSS. T. 26). Had several publications.
16 Tikhon of Zadonsk (1724-1783) - spiritual writer and preacher, former bishop of Voronezh; since 1769 it has been in the Zadonsky Monastery.
downloadAudio true story "Fire" from "The First Russian Reading Book" by Leo Nikolaevich Tolstoy. You can read the briefs ( summary), listen online or download for free and without registration the audio story "Fire".
During the harvest, men and women went to the fields to work. Only the old and the young remained in the village. In one hut there remained a grandmother and three grandchildren: three-year-old Masha, one-and-a-half-year-old Kiryushka and eight-year-old Vanya. Grandma turned off the stove and lay down on the bench to rest, covered her head with a scarf to keep out the flies and fell asleep. Meanwhile, Masha collected coals from the stove into a shard and set fire to the sheaves in the hallway. The sheaves caught fire. Frightened Masha and Kiryushka returned to the hut and hid under the bench. Vanya was on the street, saw smoke coming from the hallway and ran into the hut. It was too late to put out the fire. The boy woke up his grandmother. She, half asleep, forgot about the children, jumped out into the street and ran to call people. Vanya found Masha and Kiryushka under the bench. It was no longer possible to escape from the burning hut through the door. He rolled up the window. First, Masha climbed out of it, then he pushed out the stubborn Kiryushka, and managed to jump out of the window himself.
Lev Tolstoy
It often happens that in cities during fires, children are left in houses and they cannot be pulled out, because they hide from fear and are silent, and from the smoke it is impossible to see them. Dogs in London are trained for this purpose. These dogs live with firefighters, and when a house catches fire, the firefighters send the dogs to pull the children out. One such dog in London saved twelve children; her name was Bob.
One time the house caught fire. And when the firefighters arrived at the house, a woman ran out to them. She cried and said that there was a two-year-old girl left in the house. The firefighters sent Bob. Bob ran up the stairs and disappeared into the smoke. Five minutes later he ran out of the house and carried the girl by the shirt in his teeth. The mother rushed to her daughter and cried with joy that her daughter was alive. The firefighters petted the dog and examined it to see if it was burned; but Bob was eager to go back into the house. The firefighters thought there was something else alive in the house and let him in. The dog ran into the house and soon ran out with something in its teeth. When the people looked at what she was carrying, they all burst out laughing: she was carrying a large doll.
In the harvest, men and women went to work. Only the old and the young remained in the village. A grandmother and three grandchildren remained in one hut. Grandma turned off the stove and lay down to rest. Flies landed on her and bit her. She covered her head with a towel and fell asleep. One of the granddaughters, Masha (she was three years old), opened the stove, heaped coals into a crock and went into the hallway. And in the entryway lay sheaves. The women prepared these sheaves for svyasla. Masha brought coals, put them under the sheaves and began to blow. When the straw began to catch fire, she was delighted, went into the hut and brought her brother, Kiryushka, by the hand (he was one and a half years old and had just learned to walk), and said: “Look, Kilyuska, what a stove I blew up.” The sheaves were already burning and crackling. When the entryway was filled with smoke, Masha got scared and ran back to the hut. Kiryushka fell on the threshold, hurt his nose and began to cry; Masha dragged him into the hut, and they both hid under a bench. Grandmother heard nothing and slept. The eldest boy, Vanya (he was eight years old), was on the street. When he saw smoke coming from the hallway, he ran through the door, jumped through the smoke into the hut and began to wake up his grandmother; but the grandmother, half asleep, went crazy and forgot about the children, jumped out and ran through the courtyards after the people. Masha, meanwhile, sat under the bench and was silent; only the little boy screamed because he had broken his nose painfully. Vanya heard his cry, looked under the bench and shouted to Masha: “Run, you’ll burn!” Masha ran into the hallway, but it was impossible to get past the smoke and fire. She came back. Then Vanya raised the window and told her to climb in. When she climbed through, Vanya grabbed his brother and dragged him. But the boy was heavy and did not give in to his brother. He cried and pushed Vanya. Vanya fell twice while he was dragging him to the window; the door to the hut was already on fire. Vanya stuck the boy’s head through the window and wanted to push him through; but the boy (he was very scared) grabbed hold of him with his little hands and did not let them go. Then Vanya shouted to Masha: “Drag him by the head!” – and he pushed from behind. And so they pulled him out the window onto the street and jumped out themselves.
