When a guardsman in a short leather camisole with an effort pulled the hook on himself, Amelie turned away and buried her forehead in her friend's shoulder. The cloak smelled pleasantly of onion pie and wet wool from the recent drizzle.
Ugh, I don't want to watch.
En was silent and seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. Yielding to the unspoken universal impulse, Amelie turned apprehensively and, shielding her eyes with her hand, looked through her fingers at the shore, where a bluish corpse was already lying, not yet swollen with water. Woman. Young, blonde. Not local. The disgusting spectacle drew a large crowd. However, any rubbish always gathers a crowd. When they are being executed on Seventh Square, there is no way to squeeze through to the house. Even my father sometimes goes.
An exhaled noisily, as if waking up:
- Thank heavens, not ours.
Amelie nodded, that's for sure. Here only strangers are taken out of the river - and all women. Beautiful, like broken porcelain dolls. And always naked. Amelie resolutely took En's hand and walked away, turning onto Bocharnaya Street. Why only skidded to the river? Now the disgusting spectacle will haunt you for a long time - you won’t shake it off.
“What do you think,” Amelie stood right in the middle of the road, “what does he do with them?”
En shrugged her shoulders, causing the already short skirt to rise comically, revealing soiled shoes and washed stockings. She was uncomplicated. Too tall for a girl, thin as a pole. And the corsage bristled on a flat chest only due to tightly sewn ruffles. Okay, not ugly. However, it was impossible to call her a beauty. Mother always believed that En had been jealous of Amelie since childhood. And she was friends only in order to attract attention to herself - otherwise they would not look at her. But no matter what her mother says, En is now betrothed. And now, for sure, he will soon put on a cap and begin to walk importantly, importantly, like those cloth merchants who do not dare to meddle in Volosyanoy Lane - the narrowest city street, because the ass will not crawl through. It will be funny if N finally gets fat. Amelie couldn't imagine her being fat.
En lowered her head, as if she was ashamed of what she wanted to say.
- Grandma Belta says she uses it until she gets bored. And how tired, - she bulged her small brown eyes, - immediately to Valora.
Amelie bit her lip and stared at her friend.
- Does he use it? What is it like?
En blushed, as if burned in the hot sun:
- Stop doing that! You understood everything. You only bring shame.
Of course I understood. I just wanted to see how it would evade. Amelie waved her hand.
- It's all nonsense. They say he's an old freak. And the old ones - you know yourself, - she bent her index finger into a crochet, - like a sluggish carrot. Not good for anything.
Both laughed to tears. En wiped her hand.
- So it is so, but then with people. This one is a sorcerer. Who knows what he might conjure up there.
Both burst out laughing again when Amelie began to mark the size of the “witchcraft” with her hand.
Appearing from around the corner of the supply, loaded with baskets so that they almost reached the edges of the roofs, forced me to move away to the wall, into the door niche. Still laughing, Amelie stood up on her tiptoes, picked up a thick rope as the wagon passed by, and pulled. Baskets fell down with a dry crack, rolled down the street. Amelie grabbed En by the arm and dragged her into a nearby lane until the driver came to his senses. They ran to a safe distance and stopped to catch their breath.
En pressed her hands to her sunken chest.
- Well, why did you do it? She was still choking on laughter.
Amelie shrugged.
- I do not know. I wanted to. - She pursed her lips and looked at her friend: - Well, yes ... Such pranks do not suit a married lady now. And there, go, not a sluggish carrot.
She laughed fervently again, but En only lowered her head.
- No need.
Amelie shrugged.
- Why? Look, you're already married. I myself heard the announcement on Sunday. What is there to hide?
En lowered her head even lower and seemed to be almost crying. Also, I figured it out! Amelie patted her on the shoulder.
- Hey! What are you?
She stifled a sob and wiped her nose on her sleeve.
- I do not want. I don't love him.
That's nonsense!
- You will love it. Why do you love him if you've only seen him once?
- I saw it. You didn't see it, that's why you say so.
Now En was crying almost uncontrollably. Here's a fool! She herself, by the way, is also not a Neur maiden, so that flowers bloom from her beauty. Amelie hugged her, snuggled up:
— Is it the main thing? Love will appear between you - so you will be the happiest. I'm sure.
En just sniffed for a while, then pulled away:
- What kind of love is there? Where can she come from?
Amelie chuckled.
- Oh well! Where does love between husband and wife come from? Of course, from an alcove.
- Stop doing that! You don't know anything!
— I know everything. The most important thing in love is that the husband ...
- … stop doing that! Stop doing that! Ann closed her eyes and waved her hands. - Shut up! What a shame!
Do you remember Marketa? Who used to go to the river with us?
Ann was silent. She just looked like a wolf and from time to time wiped her nose with her palm.
So she got married last year. I met her not so long ago in the market. She has a belly like your dad. And she herself is satisfied ... She says that it turned out that she did not know life before marriage. I, he says, now without ... - Amelie coughed meaningfully so as not to say shameful things, - ... life, in general, does not represent. I love, he says, more than life. And she herself runs to Saint Picard to light the lamps. Just so that nothing hangs there.
En gazed intently into Amelie's face, red as a ripe raspberry.
— What are you carrying? Creator! Shame alone. You don't know anything yourself! She turned and walked resolutely away. - That's how you get married yourself - then I'll look at you. And I'll laugh. I will laugh the loudest!
Her skinny figure's skirt swayed like the great bell of St. Picard's. It seemed that a deep, viscous ringing was about to be heard. Amelie rushed after her with a cry:
- I know! I know for sure! - she stopped En on the very corner of the street, grabbed her by the hand and made her turn: - I swear to you: with whom fate brings, I will love him with all my heart. And look. The most important thing, Amelie raised her finger to her lips, was the bed. Marketa said exactly that.
En chuckled.
“Keep in mind: oaths cannot be thrown around. And if you swore...
Amelie chuckled.
- Did I lie to you when?
En thawed, smiled timidly, but immediately gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, and blushed embarrassedly. She stared wide-eyed over Amelie's head. She turned around: a few steps away, at the door of the cloth shop, stood a noble gentleman, one of those whom En calls "an excellent man", and mockingly looked at them with piercing blue eyes. Creator, and if he heard everything? About the alcove, about the oath? What a shame! Amélie blushed, feeling the waves of heat rush to her cheeks, but she could not look away. Thin, sharp features, a proud posture, shiny black curls fell on the rich trim of the caftan. She had never seen such a handsome man in her life, even in her dreams. And now she stood like the last fool, stared and was afraid that her heart was about to jump out - it beat so often. My throat was dry and my stomach knotted. What is it?
Amelie grabbed En's arm and ran away.