least eats with a spoon, but this one won’t even lift his arm!”
Patsiuk must have been greatly occupied with his noodles, because he seemed not to notice at all the coming of the blacksmith, who, as he stepped across the threshold, gave him a very low bow.
“I’ve come for your kindness, Patsiuk,” Vakula said, bowing again.
Fat Patsiuk raised his head and again began slurping up noodles.
“They say, meaning no offense …” the blacksmith said, pluckingup his courage, “I mention it not so as to insult you in any way—that you have some kinship with the devil.”
Having uttered these words, Vakula became frightened, thinking he had expressed himself too directly and hadn’t softened his strong words enough, and, expecting Patsiuk to seize the barrel with the bowl and send it straight at his head, he stepped aside a little and shielded himself with his sleeve, so that the hot liquid from the noodles wouldn’t splash in his face.
But Patsiuk shot him a glance and again began slurping up noodles.The heartened blacksmith ventured to continue.
“I’ve come to you, Patsiuk, may God grant you all good things in abundance, and bread proportionately!” The blacksmith knew how to put in a fashionable word now and then; he had acquired the knack in Poltava, while he was painting the chief’s wooden fence.“My sinful self is bound to perish!nothing in the world helps!Come what may, I must ask for help from the devil himself.Well, Patsiuk?” said the blacksmith, seeing his invariable silence, “what am I to do?”
“If it’s the devil you need, then go to the devil!” replied Patsiuk, without raising his eyes and continuing to pack away the noodles.
“That’s why I came to you,” replied the blacksmith, giving him a low bow.“Apart from you, I don’t think anybody in the world knows the way to him.”
Not a word from Patsiuk, who was finishing the last of the noodles.
“Do me a kindness, good man, don’t refuse!” the blacksmith insisted.“Some pork, or sausage, or buckwheat flour—well, or linen, millet, whatever there may be, if needed … as is customary among good people … we won’t be stingy.Tell me at least, let’s say, how to find the way to him?”
“He needn’t go far who has the devil on his back,” Patsiuk pronounced indifferently, without changing his position.
Vakula fixed his eyes on him as if he had the explanation of these words written on his forehead.“What is he saying?” his face inquired wordlessly; and his half-open mouth was ready to swallow the first word like a noodle.But Patsiuk kept silent.
Here Vakula noticed there were no longer either noodles orbarrel before the man; instead, two wooden bowls stood on the floor, one filled with dumplings, the other with sour cream.His thoughts and eyes involuntarily turned to these dishes.“Let’s see how Patsiuk is going to eat those dumplings,” he said to himself.“He surely won’t want to lean over and slurp them up like noodles, and it’s not the right way—a dumpling has to be dipped in sour cream first.”
No sooner had he thought it than Patsiuk opened his mouth wide, looked at the dumplings, and opened his mouth still wider.Just then a dumpling flipped out of the bowl, plopped into the sour cream, turned over on the other side, jumped up, and went straight into Patsiuk’s mouth.Patsiuk ate it and again opened his mouth, and in went another dumpling in the same way.He was left only with the work of chewing and swallowing.
“See what a marvel!” thought the blacksmith, opening his mouth in surprise, and noticing straightaway that a dumpling was going into his mouth as well and had already smeared his lips with sour cream.Pushing the dumpling away and wiping his lips, the blacksmith began to reflect on what wonders happen in the world and what clever things a man could attain to by means of the unclean powers, observing at the same time that Patsiuk alone could help him.“I’ll bow to him again,
Patsiuk must have been greatly occupied with his noodles, because he seemed not to notice at all the coming of the blacksmith, who, as he stepped across the threshold, gave him a very low bow.
“I’ve come for your kindness, Patsiuk,” Vakula said, bowing again.
Fat Patsiuk raised his head and again began slurping up noodles.
“They say, meaning no offense …” the blacksmith said, pluckingup his courage, “I mention it not so as to insult you in any way—that you have some kinship with the devil.”
Having uttered these words, Vakula became frightened, thinking he had expressed himself too directly and hadn’t softened his strong words enough, and, expecting Patsiuk to seize the barrel with the bowl and send it straight at his head, he stepped aside a little and shielded himself with his sleeve, so that the hot liquid from the noodles wouldn’t splash in his face.
But Patsiuk shot him a glance and again began slurping up noodles.The heartened blacksmith ventured to continue.
“I’ve come to you, Patsiuk, may God grant you all good things in abundance, and bread proportionately!” The blacksmith knew how to put in a fashionable word now and then; he had acquired the knack in Poltava, while he was painting the chief’s wooden fence.“My sinful self is bound to perish!nothing in the world helps!Come what may, I must ask for help from the devil himself.Well, Patsiuk?” said the blacksmith, seeing his invariable silence, “what am I to do?”
“If it’s the devil you need, then go to the devil!” replied Patsiuk, without raising his eyes and continuing to pack away the noodles.
“That’s why I came to you,” replied the blacksmith, giving him a low bow.“Apart from you, I don’t think anybody in the world knows the way to him.”
Not a word from Patsiuk, who was finishing the last of the noodles.
“Do me a kindness, good man, don’t refuse!” the blacksmith insisted.“Some pork, or sausage, or buckwheat flour—well, or linen, millet, whatever there may be, if needed … as is customary among good people … we won’t be stingy.Tell me at least, let’s say, how to find the way to him?”
“He needn’t go far who has the devil on his back,” Patsiuk pronounced indifferently, without changing his position.
Vakula fixed his eyes on him as if he had the explanation of these words written on his forehead.“What is he saying?” his face inquired wordlessly; and his half-open mouth was ready to swallow the first word like a noodle.But Patsiuk kept silent.
Here Vakula noticed there were no longer either noodles orbarrel before the man; instead, two wooden bowls stood on the floor, one filled with dumplings, the other with sour cream.His thoughts and eyes involuntarily turned to these dishes.“Let’s see how Patsiuk is going to eat those dumplings,” he said to himself.“He surely won’t want to lean over and slurp them up like noodles, and it’s not the right way—a dumpling has to be dipped in sour cream first.”
No sooner had he thought it than Patsiuk opened his mouth wide, looked at the dumplings, and opened his mouth still wider.Just then a dumpling flipped out of the bowl, plopped into the sour cream, turned over on the other side, jumped up, and went straight into Patsiuk’s mouth.Patsiuk ate it and again opened his mouth, and in went another dumpling in the same way.He was left only with the work of chewing and swallowing.
“See what a marvel!” thought the blacksmith, opening his mouth in surprise, and noticing straightaway that a dumpling was going into his mouth as well and had already smeared his lips with sour cream.Pushing the dumpling away and wiping his lips, the blacksmith began to reflect on what wonders happen in the world and what clever things a man could attain to by means of the unclean powers, observing at the same time that Patsiuk alone could help him.“I’ll bow to him again,
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