Paulo Coelho - A Christmas Tale: A Fairy Tale. Christmas stories by foreign writers

Guy de Maupassant

Christmas tale

Doctor Bonanfant began to rummage through his memory, repeating in a low voice: “A Christmas story?.. A Christmas story?” And suddenly he exclaimed: “Well, yes!” I have one memory, and even a very unusual one. This fantastic story. I saw a miracle. Yes, ladies, a miracle on Christmas night. Are you surprised that you hear this from me, a person who does not believe in anything? And yet, I saw a miracle! I’m telling you, I saw him, I saw him with my own eyes, I really saw him. Did it surprise me? Not at all: if I do not believe in your dogmas, then I believe in the existence of faith and I know that it moves mountains. I could give many examples. But I am afraid to arouse indignation in you and weaken the effect of my story. First of all, I admit that if I was not convinced by everything I saw, then in any case I was very excited, and I will try to ingenuously convey all this to you with the naive credulity of an Overlander. I was then a village doctor and lived in the town of Rolleville, in the wilderness of Normandy. The winter that year was fierce. From the end of November, after a week of frost, snow fell. Heavy clouds approaching from the north could already be seen from afar, then thick white flakes began to fall. In one night the entire valley was covered with a white shroud. Lonely farms, standing among square courtyards, behind a curtain of large trees covered with frost, seemed to have fallen asleep under this dense and light blanket. Not a single sound disturbed the silence of the village. Only flocks of crows drew long patterns across the sky in a vain search for food and, descending in a cloud onto the dead fields, pecked at the snow with their large beaks. Nothing was heard except the soft and continuous rustle of frozen dust, which continued to fall endlessly. This lasted all week, then the snowfall stopped. The ground was enveloped in a blanket five feet thick. Over the next three weeks, the sky, clear as blue crystal during the day, and at night all strewn with stars, like frost on a cold, harsh surface, stretched over an even veil of hard and shiny snow. The valley, the hedges, the elms beyond the fence - everything seemed dead, killed by the cold. Neither people nor animals appeared on the street; only the pipes protruding from the huts in the white snowdrifts testified to hidden life thin, straight streams of smoke rising in the icy air. From time to time, the trees cracked, as if their wooden arms were breaking under the bark: a thick branch sometimes separated and fell, because the cold froze the tree sap and tore the frozen fibers. The dwellings, scattered here and there among the fields, seemed separated from each other by a hundred leagues. We lived as we had to. I alone tried to visit my closest patients, constantly risking being buried in some pit. Soon I noticed that the whole area was gripped by a mysterious fear. They interpreted that such a disaster could not be a natural phenomenon. They assured me that at night they could hear voices, sharp whistles, and someone's screams. These screams and whistles were undoubtedly made by flocks of birds flying south at dusk. But try to convince the distraught people. Horror gripped souls, and everyone was waiting for some extraordinary event. Uncle Vatinel's forge stood at the end of the village of Epivan, on high road , in those days covered with snow and deserted. And when the workers ran out of bread, the blacksmith decided to go to the village. He spent several hours in conversation, visited half a dozen houses that made up the local center, got bread, listened to enough news and became infected with the fear that reigned in the village. Even before dark he went home. Walking along some fence, he suddenly noticed an egg in the snow, yes, undoubtedly, an egg, white, like everything around him. He leaned over: indeed, an egg. Where is it from? What kind of chicken could come out of the chicken coop and lay eggs in this place? The surprised blacksmith did not understand anything. However, he took the egg and brought it to his wife. - Hey, mistress, I brought you an egg. Found him on the road. The wife shook her head... - An egg on the road? In this weather! Yes, you are obviously drunk. - No, mistress, it was lying near the fence and was still warm, not frozen. Here it is, I put it in my bosom so it wouldn’t get cold. Eat it with lunch. The egg was lowered into the cauldron where the soup was being cooked, and the blacksmith began to retell what was being talked about in the village. The wife listened, turning pale. - By God, last night I heard a whistle: it even seemed to me that it was coming from a chimney. We sat at the table. First they ate soup, then, while the husband was spreading butter on the bread, the wife took the egg and examined it suspiciously. - What if there is something in this egg? - What do you think could be there? - How should I know! - It will be for you... Eat and don’t be stupid. She broke the egg. It was very ordinary and very fresh. She began to eat it hesitantly, then biting off a piece, then leaving it, then starting to eat it again. The husband asked: “Well, what does it taste like?” She did not answer and, having swallowed the remains of the egg, suddenly stared at her husband with a gaze, gloomy and crazy: she threw her hands up. she clenched them into fists and fell to the ground, writhing in convulsions and emitting terrible screams. All night she struggled in a terrible fit, shaken by mortal tremors, disfigured by disgusting convulsions. The blacksmith, unable to cope with her, was forced to tie her up. Without stopping for a minute, she screamed in a wild voice: “He’s in my stomach!.. He’s in my stomach!.. They called me the next day.” I tried all the sedatives without any result. The woman lost her mind. With incredible speed, despite the impassable snowdrifts, news, amazing news, spread across all the farms: “The blacksmith’s wife has been possessed by a demon!” Curious people came from everywhere, but did not dare to enter the house. They listened from a distance to her terrible screams: it was difficult to believe that this loud howl belonged to a human being. They let the village priest know. It was an old, simple-minded abbot. He came running in a surplice, as if to give a farewell to a dying man, and, stretching out his hands, uttered an incantatory formula while four men held a woman writhing on the bed and splashing foam. But the demon was never cast out. Christmas came, but the weather was still the same. The curé came to see me the morning before. “I want,” he said, “for this unfortunate woman to be present at the evening service today.” Perhaps the Lord will create a miracle for her at the very hour when he himself was born from a woman. I answered him: “I fully approve of you, Monsieur Abbot.” If the divine service has an effect on her - and this the best remedy touch her, she can be healed without medicine. The old priest muttered: “You, doctor, are an unbeliever, but you will help me, won’t you?” Will you undertake to deliver it? I promised him my help. Evening came, then night. The church bell rang, dropping a sad ringing into the dead space, onto the white and frozen surface of the snow. Obedient to the copper call, groups of black figures slowly reached out. The full moon illuminated the horizon with a bright and pale light, further emphasizing the dull whiteness of the fields. I took four strong men and went to the blacksmith. The possessed woman was still howling, tied to the bed. Despite wild resistance, she was carefully dressed and carried. The church, cold but illuminated, was now full of people; the singers sang a monotonous tune; the organ wheezed; a small bell in the hands of the servant rang, controlling the movements of the believers. I locked the woman and her guards in the kitchen church house and began to wait for a favorable, in my opinion, moment. I chose the moment after communion. All peasants, men and women, having received communion, joined their god in order to soften his severity. While the priest performed the sacrament, deep silence reigned in the church. At my order the door opened and my four assistants brought in the madwoman. As soon as she saw the light, the kneeling crowd, the illuminated choir and the golden ark, she began to beat with such force that she almost broke out of our hands, and began to scream so shrilly that a thrill of horror swept through the church. All heads rose, many of the worshipers ran away. She lost her human appearance, writhed and squirmed in our hands, with distorted face and crazy eyes. She was dragged to the steps of the choir and forcefully bent to the floor. The priest stood and waited. When she was seated, he took the monstrance, at the bottom of which lay a white wafer, and, taking a few steps, raised it with both hands above the head of the demoniac, so that she could see it... She was still howling, fixing her gaze on the shiny object . The abbot continued to stand so motionless that he could have been mistaken for a statue. This dragged on for a long, long time. The woman seemed to be gripped by fear: she, enchanted, without looking away, looked at the bowl, still shaking at times with terrible trembling, and continued to scream, but not in such a heartbreaking voice. And this also took a long time. It seemed that she could not take her eyes off the monstrance and was just moaning, her tense body weakened and drooped. The whole crowd fell on their faces. Now the possessed woman quickly lowered her eyelids, then raised them again, as if she could not bear the sight of her god. She didn't scream anymore. Soon I noticed that she had closed her eyes. She slept in the sleep of a somnambulist, hypnotized—excuse me, pacified—by the close contemplation of the glittering golden cup, smitten by the victorious Christ. She was carried away exhausted, and the priest returned to the altar. Shocked witnesses burst out "Te deum" in praise of God's mercy. The blacksmith's wife slept for forty hours straight, then woke up, remembering nothing of either the illness or the healing. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the miracle I saw. Doctor Bonanfant fell silent, then added with annoyance: “I was forced to testify to the miracle in writing.” Published in Le Gaulois on December 25, 1882. Source of text: Guy de Maupassant. Complete collection works in 12 volumes. M., "Pravda", 1958 (Ogonyok library). Volume 3, p. 3-120. OCR; sad369 (25.04.2007)

The Christmas holidays are approaching, and with them the holidays. These fun days can become more than just screen time. To bond with your children, read books about Christmas to them. Let the kids understand the real meaning of this holiday, empathize with the main characters, learn to give and forgive. And children's imagination will bring the stories they hear to life better than any director.

1. O’Henry “The Gift of the Magi”

“... here I told you an unremarkable story about two stupid children from an eight-dollar apartment who, in the most unwise way, sacrificed their greatest treasures for each other. But let it be said for the edification of the sages of our day that of all the donors these two were the wisest. Of all those who offer and receive gifts, only those like them are truly wise.”

This touching story about the value of a gift, regardless of its price; this story is about the importance of self-sacrifice in the name of love.

A young married couple survives on eight dollars a week, and Christmas is just around the corner. Dell cries in despair because she cannot buy her beloved husband a gift. Over many months, she was able to save only a dollar and eighty-eight cents. But then she remembers that she has simply gorgeous hair, and decides to sell it in order to give her husband a chain for his family watch.

The husband who saw his wife in the evening seemed very upset. But he was sad not because his wife began to look like a ten-year-old boy, but because he sold his gold watch to give the most beautiful combs, which she had been eyeing for several months.

It seems Christmas has failed. But these two cried not from sadness, but from love for each other.

2. Sven Nordkvist “Christmas Porridge”

“Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a case - they forgot to bring porridge to the gnomes. And the gnome father became so angry that misfortunes happened in the house all year. It’s amazing how he got under the skin, he’s really such a good-natured guy!”

Dwarves get along well with people, help them run their households, and take care of animals. And they don’t ask much from people - to bring them a special Christmas porridge for Christmas. But bad luck, people completely forgot about the gnomes. And Dwarf Dad will be terribly angry if he finds out that there will be no treats this year. How can you enjoy porridge without getting noticed by the owners of the house?

3. Sven Nordqvist “Christmas at Pettson’s House”

“Petson and Findus silently drank coffee and looked at their reflections in the window. It was completely dark outside, and very quiet in the kitchen. This kind of silence comes when something can’t be done the way you wanted.”

This wonderful work about friendship and support in Hard time. Petson and his kitten Findus live together and are already starting to prepare for Christmas. But then something bad happened - Petson accidentally injured his leg and will no longer be able to finish all his work. And as luck would have it, the house ran out of food and wood for the stove, and they didn’t even have time to put up a Christmas tree. Who will help friends not to remain hungry and lonely on Christmas?

4. Gianni Rodari “Planet of Christmas Trees”

“The storm has really started. Only instead of rain, millions of colorful confetti fell from the sky. The wind picked them up, whirled them around, and tossed them all around. There was a complete impression that winter had arrived and there was a snowstorm. However, the air remained warm, filled with different aromas - it smelled of mint, anise, tangerines and something else unfamiliar, but very pleasant.”

Little Marcus turned nine years old. He dreamed of receiving a real spaceship from his grandfather as a gift, but for some reason his grandfather gave him a toy horse. Why is he a baby to play with such toys? But curiosity took its toll, and in the evening Marcus sat on the horse, which turned out to be... spaceship.

Marcus ended up on a distant planet, where New Year trees grew everywhere, the inhabitants lived according to a special New Year’s calendar, the sidewalks themselves moved, the cafes served delicious bricks and wire, and for children they came up with a special “Hit-Break” palace, where they were allowed to destroy everything.
Everything would be fine, but how to get back home?..

5. Hans Christian Andersen “The Little Match Girl”

“In the cold morning, in the corner behind the house, the girl was still sitting with pink cheeks and a smile on her lips, but dead. She froze on the last evening of the old year; the New Year's sun illuminated the small corpse... But no one knew what she saw, in what splendor she ascended, together with her grandmother, to the New Year's joys in the sky!

Unfortunately, not all fairy tales end happily. And this one is impossible to read without tears. How can it be that a child wanders the streets on New Year's Eve in the hope of selling at least one match? She warmed her little fingers, and the shadows from the tiny fire outlined scenes of a happy life that she could see through other people's windows.

We don’t even know the baby’s name - for us she will always be the little match girl who, due to the greed and indifference of adults, flew to heaven.

6. Charles Dickens "A Christmas Carol"

“These are joyful days - days of mercy, kindness, forgiveness. These are the only days in the entire calendar when people seem to tacit consent, freely open their hearts to each other and see in their neighbors, even the poor and disadvantaged, people just like themselves.”

This work has become a favorite for more than one generation. We know his film adaptation of A Christmas Carol.

This is the story of the greedy Ebenezer Scrooge, for whom nothing is more important than money. Compassion, mercy, joy, love are alien to him. But everything is about to change on Christmas Eve...

There is a little Scrooge in each of us, and it is so important not to miss the moment, to open the doors to love and mercy, so that this curmudgeon does not completely take possession of us.

7. Catherine Holabert "Angelina Meets Christmas"

“Bright stars lit up in the sky. White flakes of snow quietly fell to the ground. Angelina had great mood, and every now and then she began to dance on the sidewalk, to the surprise of passers-by.”

Little mouse Angelina is looking forward to Christmas. She had already planned what she would do at home, but now she noticed a lonely, sad Mr. Bell in the window, who had no one to celebrate the holiday with. Sweet Angelina decides to help Mr. Bell, but she doesn’t even suspect that thanks to her kind will find the heart the real Santa Claus!

8. Susan Wojciechowski "Mr. Toomey's Christmas Miracle"

“Your sheep, of course, is beautiful, but my sheep was also happy... After all, they were next to the baby Jesus, and this is such happiness for them!”

Mr Toomey makes his living as a wood carver. Once upon a time he smiled and was happy. But after the loss of his wife and son, he became gloomy and received the nickname from the neighbor children Mr. Gloomy. One Christmas Eve, a widow with her little son came knocking and asked him to make them Christmas figurines, since they had lost theirs after moving. It would seem that there is nothing wrong with an ordinary order, but gradually this work changes Mr. Toomey...

9. Nikolai Gogol “The Night Before Christmas”

“Patsyuk opened his mouth, looked at the dumplings and opened his mouth even more. At this time, the dumpling splashed out of the bowl, plopped into the sour cream, turned over to the other side, jumped up and just landed in his mouth. Patsyuk ate it and opened his mouth again, and the dumpling went out again in the same order. He only took upon himself the labor of chewing and swallowing.”

A long-loved work for both adults and children. Amazing story about evenings on a farm near Dikanka, which formed the basis for films, musicals and cartoons. But if your child does not yet know the story of Vakula, Oksana, Solokha, Chub and other heroes, and also has not heard that the devil can steal the moon, and what other miracles happen on the night before Christmas, it is worth devoting several evenings to this fascinating story .


10. Fyodor Dostoevsky “The Boy at Christ’s Christmas Tree”

“These boys and girls were all the same as he, children, but some froze in their baskets, in which they were thrown onto the stairs..., others suffocated at the Chukhonkas, from the orphanage on food, others died at the withered breast their mothers..., the fourth suffocated in third-class carriages from the stench, and they are all here now, all of them are now like angels, all of them are with Christ, and he himself is in the midst of them, and stretches out his hands to them, and blesses them and their sinners mothers..."

This difficult work, without pathos or decoration, the author truthfully depicts the life of the poor. Parents will have to explain a lot, because, thank God, our children do not know such hardships as main character.

The little boy is frozen from the cold and exhausted from hunger. His mother died in some dark basement, and he is looking for a piece of bread on Christmas Eve. The boy probably sees someone else for the first time in his life, happy life. Only she is there, outside the windows of wealthy people. The boy was able to get to the Christmas tree to see Christ, but after he froze outside...

11. Marco Cheremshina “Tear”

“The blessed angel began to fly from hut to hut with darunkas on her porch... Marusya lies in the snow, the sky freezes. Tell me, angel!”

This short story will not leave either adults or children indifferent. Fits on one page whole life poor family. Marusya's mother became seriously ill. To prevent her mother from dying, a little girl goes to the city to get medicine. But the Christmas frost does not spare the child, and snow pours into his holey boots as if out of spite.

Marusya is exhausted and quietly dies in the snow. Her only hope is the last child's tear, which miraculously fell on the cheek of the Christmas angel...

12. Mikhail Kotsyubinsky “Christmas tree”

“The horses, racing over the tracks and over the piles, became sweaty and steel. Vasilko got lost. You were hungry and scared. Vin burst into tears. There was a hut all around, the cold wind was blowing and the snow was swirling, and Vasilkova dreamed of the warmth, the clearness of her father’s hut...”

A deep, dramatic, insightful work. It will not leave any reader indifferent, and the intrigue will not let you relax until the very end.
Once upon a time, little Vasyl’s father gave him a Christmas tree; it grew in the garden and made the boy happy. And today, on Christmas Eve, my father sold the tree because the family really, really needed money. When they cut down the tree, it seemed to Vasyl that she was about to cry, and the boy himself seemed to have lost a dear person.

But Vasylko also had to take the tree to the city. The road went through the forest, the Christmas frost crackled, the snow covered all the tracks, and, as luck would have it, the sleigh also broke down. It is not surprising that Vasylko got lost in the forest. Will the boy be able to find his way home, and will Christmas be a joyful holiday for his family?

13. Lydia Podvysotskaya “The Tale of a Christmas Angel”

“A flying angel flew through the streets of a snowy place. It was so soft and gentle, all woven with joy and love. The angel was carrying at his bag a golden fairy tale for better-hearing children.”

The Christmas angel looked into one of the rooms and saw little boy, who was in a fever and breathing hoarsely, and above him, bent over, sat a slightly older girl. The angel realized that the children were orphans. It is very difficult and scary for them to live without their mother. But that’s why he’s a Christmas angel, to help and protect good children...

14. Maria Shkurina “A star as a gift for mom”

“More than anything else in the world, I need to be healthy. If I’m healthy, you decide to get up from your bed and, like a bygone fate, take Gannusya by the hand and go for a walk.”

Little Anya’s mother has been sick for a long time, and the doctor just looks away and sadly shakes his head. And tomorrow is Christmas. Last year they had so much fun with the whole family, but now mom can’t even get out of bed. A little girl remembers that wishes come true at Christmas and asks the star in the sky for health for her mother. Will a distant star hear a child’s prayer?

Christmas is the period when magic comes into its own. Teach your children to believe in miracles, in the power of love and faith, and to do good themselves. And these wonderful stories will help you with this.

Guy de Maupassant

Christmas tale

Guy de Maupassant(1850 – 1893)

Doctor Bonanfant began to rummage through his memory, repeating in a low voice:

– A Christmas story?... A Christmas story?...

And suddenly he exclaimed:

- Well, yes! I have one memory, and even a very unusual one. This is a fantastic story. I saw a miracle. Yes, ladies, a miracle on Christmas night.

Are you surprised that you hear this from me, a person who does not believe in anything? And yet I saw a miracle! I’m telling you, I saw him, I saw him with my own eyes, I really saw him.

Did it surprise me? Not at all: if I do not believe in your dogmas, then I believe in the existence of faith and I know that it moves mountains. I could give many examples. But I am afraid to arouse indignation in you and weaken the effect of my story.

First of all, I admit that if I was not convinced by everything I saw, then, in any case, I was very excited, and I will try to ingenuously convey all this to you with the naive credulity of an Overlander.


I was then a village doctor and lived in the town of Rolleville, in the wilderness of Normandy.

The winter that year was fierce. From the end of November, after a week of frost, snow fell. Heavy clouds approaching from the north could already be seen from afar, then thick white flakes began to fall.

In one night the entire valley was covered with a white shroud.

Lonely farms, standing among square courtyards, behind a curtain of large trees covered with frost, seemed to have fallen asleep under this dense and light blanket.

Not a single sound disturbed the silence of the village. Only flocks of crows drew long patterns across the sky in a vain search for food and, descending in a cloud onto the dead fields, pecked at the snow with their large beaks.

Nothing was heard except the soft and continuous rustle of frozen dust, which continued to fall endlessly.

This lasted all week, then the snowfall stopped. The ground was enveloped in a blanket five feet thick.

Over the next three weeks, the sky, clear as blue crystal during the day, and at night all strewn with stars, like frost on a cold, harsh surface, stretched over an even veil of hard and shiny snow.

The valley, the hedges, the elms beyond the fence - everything seemed dead, killed by the cold. Neither people nor animals appeared on the street; only the chimneys protruding from the huts in the white snowdrifts testified to hidden life in thin, straight streams of smoke rising in the icy air.

From time to time, the trees cracked, as if their wooden arms were breaking under the bark: a thick branch sometimes separated and fell, because the cold froze the tree sap and tore the frozen fibers.

The dwellings, scattered here and there among the fields, seemed separated from each other by a hundred leagues. We lived as we had to. I alone tried to visit my closest patients, constantly risking being buried in some pit.

Soon I noticed that the whole area was gripped by a mysterious fear. They interpreted that such a disaster could not be a natural phenomenon. They assured me that at night they could hear voices, sharp whistles, and someone's screams.

These screams and whistles were undoubtedly made by flocks of birds flying south at dusk. But try to convince the distraught people. Horror gripped souls, and everyone was waiting for some extraordinary event.

Uncle Vatinel's forge stood at the end of the village of Epivan, on the high road, which in those days was covered with snow and deserted. And when the workers ran out of bread, the blacksmith decided to go to the village. He spent several hours in conversation, visited half a dozen houses that made up the local center, got bread, listened to enough news and became infected with the fear that reigned in the village.

Even before dark he went home.

Walking along some fence, he suddenly noticed an egg in the snow, yes, undoubtedly, an egg, white, like everything around him. He leaned over: indeed, an egg. Where is it from? What kind of chicken could come out of the chicken coop and lay eggs in this place? The surprised blacksmith did not understand anything. However, he took the egg and brought it to his wife.

- Hey, mistress, I brought you an egg. Found him on the road.

The wife shook her head:

-An egg on the road? In this weather! Yes, you are obviously drunk.

- No, mistress, it was lying near the fence and was still warm, not frozen. Here it is, I put it in my bosom so it wouldn’t get cold. Eat it with lunch.

The egg was lowered into the cauldron where the soup was being cooked, and the blacksmith began to retell what was being talked about in the village.

The wife listened, turning pale.

- By God, last night I heard a whistle; it even seemed to me that it was coming from a pipe.

We sat at the table. First they ate soup, then, while the husband was spreading butter on the bread, the wife took the egg and examined it suspiciously.

- What if there is something in this egg?

– What do you think could be there?

- How should I know!

- It will be for you... Eat and don’t be stupid.

She broke the egg. It was very ordinary and very fresh.

She began to eat it hesitantly, now biting off a piece, now putting it away, then picking it up again. The husband asked:

- Well, what does it taste like?

She did not answer and, having swallowed the remains of the egg, suddenly stared at her husband with a gaze, sullen and crazy: throwing her hands up, she clenched them into fists and fell to the ground, writhing in convulsions and emitting terrible screams.

All night she struggled in a terrible fit, shaken by mortal tremors, disfigured by disgusting convulsions. The blacksmith, unable to cope with her, was forced to tie her up.

Without stopping for a minute, she screamed in a wild voice:

– It’s in my stomach!.. It’s in my stomach!..

I was called the next day. I tried all the sedatives without any result. The woman lost her mind.

With incredible speed, despite the impassable snowdrifts, news spread across all the farms, amazing news:

“The blacksmith’s wife has been possessed by a demon!”

Curious people came from everywhere, but did not dare to enter the house. They listened from a distance to her terrible screams: it was difficult to believe that this loud howl belonged to a human being.

They let the village priest know. It was an old, simple-minded abbot. He came running in a surplice, as if to give a farewell to a dying man, and, stretching out his hands, uttered an incantatory formula while four men held a woman writhing on the bed and splashing foam.

But the demon was never cast out.

Christmas came, but the weather was still the same.

The curé came to see me the morning before.

“I want,” he said, “for this unfortunate woman to be present at the evening service today.” Perhaps the Lord will create a miracle for her at the very hour when he himself was born from a woman.

I answered him:

“I fully approve of you, Monsieur Abbot.” If the divine service affects her - and this is the best way to move her - she can be healed without drugs.

The old priest muttered:

– You, doctor, are an unbeliever, but you will help me, won’t you? Will you undertake to deliver it?

I promised him my help.

Evening came, then night. The church bell rang, dropping a sad ringing into the dead space, onto the white and frozen surface of the snow.

Obedient to the copper call, groups of black figures slowly reached out. The full moon illuminated the horizon with a bright and pale light, further emphasizing the dull whiteness of the fields.

I took four strong men and went to the blacksmith.

The possessed woman was still howling, tied to the bed. Despite wild resistance, she was carefully dressed and carried.

The church, cold but illuminated, was now full of people; the singers sang a monotonous tune; the organ wheezed; a small bell in the hands of the servant rang, controlling the movements of the believers.

I locked the woman and her guards in the kitchen of the church house and began to wait for, in my opinion, a favorable moment.

I chose the moment after communion. All peasants, men and women, having received communion, joined their god in order to soften his severity. While the priest performed the sacrament, deep silence reigned in the church.

At my order the door opened and my four assistants brought in the madwoman.

As soon as she saw the light, the kneeling crowd, the illuminated choir and the golden ark, she began to beat with such force that she almost broke out of our hands, and began to scream so shrilly that a thrill of horror swept through the church. All heads rose, many of the worshipers ran away.

She lost her human appearance, writhed and squirmed in our hands, with a distorted face and crazy eyes.

She was dragged to the steps of the choir and forcefully bent to the floor.

The priest stood and waited. When she was seated, he took the monstrance, at the bottom of which lay a white wafer, and, taking a few steps, raised it with both hands above the head of the possessed woman, so that she could see it...

She was still howling, her gaze fixed on the shiny object.

The abbot continued to stand so motionless that he could have been mistaken for a statue.

This dragged on for a long, long time.

The woman seemed to be gripped by fear: she, enchanted, without looking away, looked at the bowl, still shaking at times with terrible trembling, and continued to scream, but not in such a heartbreaking voice.

In one of the picturesque corners of Russia there is a small village with the cheerful name “Dobroe”. This is where the little girl Sofia lived.

Things happened to her every now and then incredible stories. And all because the little girl believed in miracles...

Just before Christmas, the girl’s parents went to the city for a fair. Mom, hastily getting ready, said:

We won't be long. We'll pick out gifts for everyone and take the evening bus back!

Although Sofia did not like to be alone, today, the departure of her parents could not have come at a better time. The fact is that the little girl was making a postcard for her mom and dad for the holiday. And, drawing, knowing that at any moment they could enter the room, was inconvenient.

Don’t worry, I will behave well,” Sofia promised.

Dad laughed and said that no one doubts this. After seeing her parents off, she decided to immediately get down to business. But as soon as she closed the gate, an unfamiliar girl suddenly appeared on the road. Yes, so beautiful that you can’t take your eyes off! Her snow-white fur coat shone under the bright rays winter sun, the boots sparkled with cleanliness, and a huge pom-pom dangled merrily from a knitted white hat. The girl walked and cried bitterly, wiping her tears with her sleeve.

Are you lost? – Sofia shouted to the stranger.

No,” the girl sobbed, “it’s just that no one wants to be friends with me!”

What is your name? – asked Sofia.

Envy,” she whispered.

Seeing that Sofia frowned, she hastened to add:

Now you’re going to drive me away, but I’m actually good! It’s just that all people confuse me with my sister, so they drive me out of the yard...

Sofia thought about it. She didn't know that envy had a sister. At least my parents never talked about it. Maybe they didn’t know?.. Meanwhile, the uninvited guest, seeing her confusion, began to ask:

Let's be friends! Do you want me to tell you the whole truth about my sister and I, and you will see for yourself that she and I are completely different?

Sofia became curious and opened the gate. When the girls entered the house, Envy exclaimed:

It smells so delicious here!

These are tangerines! Mom bought three kilos!

Why so many? – Envy was amazed, “Will you eat that much?”

Sofia laughed:

Of course not! Guests will just come to us. My cousins- Yulka and Nastenka. So we came up with the idea of ​​putting gifts for them in beautiful bags. Everyone will receive tangerines, chocolate and some other souvenir. I don't know which one yet. Parents will choose themselves at the fair... You better tell us about your sister!

Envy sighed sadly:

I’m embarrassed to talk badly about her, but, on the other hand, I’m not lying... You see, I am White Envy, and my sister is called Black Envy. We are often confused, but we are so different! My sister is angry and doesn’t like it when something good happens to people. And I, for example, am very happy if someone new toy gave. I’m just trying to do everything so that I have the same experience. Is it bad? In my opinion, it’s very good!

Sofia shrugged. She wasn't sure if that was really a good thing. However, the girl didn’t want to quarrel with her new friend.

Envy, I need to draw a postcard for mom and dad, so I don’t have time to entertain you,” said Sofia.

I'll sit in the corner. Don't worry, I won't distract you! - the guest responded.

Soon a Nativity scene appeared on a piece of paper. The bright purple sky above him was illuminated by a slightly uneven, but big star... Sofia carefully wrote the inscription under the drawing: “Merry Christmas!” The girl almost forgot about her new friend, who modestly settled on the sidelines. The little girl folded the card and suddenly thought: “Parents don’t really know that there is Black Envy and White Envy. Oh, they would definitely allow us to be friends. After all, there is no harm from this snow-white girl. He sits quietly and doesn’t bother anyone.”

Until the evening, Envy told Sofia what gifts her friends would receive for Christmas: Masha would be given a huge teddy bear, Tanya will get real skates, and for Lyudochka they bought a set of toy dishes. Porcelain! The girls chatted so much that they didn’t even hear mom and dad enter the house.

Oh, what will happen?! Now they'll kick me out! - Envy began to fuss.

“Don’t worry,” Sofia began to reassure her, “I’ll tell my parents everything.” Let me explain that you are White!

No, no, no,” Envy whined, “I know your parents!” When they were little, I came to them. They didn’t believe that I was good then, and they won’t believe me now. I can't get in their sight!

Sofia said sadly:

Okay, then let me let you out through the window.

Envy began to shift from foot to foot, and then blushed and admitted:

To be honest, I really want to see what they bought for your sisters... Can I hide under your bed? I just have to take one look and then I’ll leave!

And, without waiting for an answer, the guest quickly ducked under the bed.

Daughter, look how beautiful it is! - Dad said, entering the nursery.

He placed two small bright boxes on the table. Sofia carefully opened one of them and gasped in delight. On a velvety pillow lay a tiny glass bell. An Angel was painted on his fragile side. The little girl immediately understood: this is the most best gift in the world…

You call! - Dad smiled.

Sofia took the souvenir by the white ribbon and shook it slightly. The sound was so gentle and clear that even my mother, running out of the kitchen, joyfully clasped her hands:

What a curiosity our dad found! And I was already planning to buy Nastya and Yulia ordinary wooden boxes...

The second box contained exactly the same bell, only it was tied to a pink ribbon. Sofia carefully placed the gifts on the shelf, and her parents left the room, tightly closing the door behind them.

“Yeah,” Envy whispered under the bed, “they definitely didn’t buy you such a bell...

Why? – the girl was surprised.

Yes, because it’s unlikely that the seller had three identical ones at once! They most likely chose some mittens for you.

Mittens too wonderful gift! – Sofia objected.

Yeah, only the bell is better.

The little girl couldn't argue with that.

Okay, don’t be upset, - said Envy, so be it, I’ll teach you how to make sure that you get both of these gifts! Listen carefully and remember: you will go to your mother now and start whining. It's better to even cry. You tell her that you liked these bells so much - you don’t have the strength to part with them! Oh, the sisters will have enough tangerines with chocolate. If mom doesn't agree, then start crying louder. And don’t forget to stomp your feet!

Then Envy crawled out from under the bed and, looking carefully at Sofia, waved her hand:

However, nothing will work out for you. You don't know how to be capricious. But that’s not a problem either. Let's take one box now and throw it on the floor. No one will even guess that we did this on purpose! But they will definitely give you the second bell! Nastya and Yulia’s parents won’t give one gift for two.

Then Sofia saw how the guest’s fur coat and boots turned black! And even the cap turned black, so now the pom-pom resembled a huge coal. Envy had already stretched out her hand towards the shelf, but Sofia grabbed her by the collar and said angrily:

You lied to me. You don't have any sister! There is only one envy in the world - Black. You purposely dress up in a white fur coat to confuse people!

Envy began to break free, but Sofia held her tightly. The girl bravely opened the window and threw her out into the street. Envy fell straight into a snowdrift and floundered in it for a long time, snorting in indignation. And Sofia closed the window and began to sharpen her pencils. She drew a card for mom and dad, but she didn’t have time for her sisters yet. The baby tried her best to make it, like the gifts, the most beautiful in the world...

Meanwhile, the parents took out another box and hid it in the sideboard. It contained a glass bell on a purple ribbon.

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One day a woman appeared on the doorstep of the dollmaker. She held a bundle in her hand and smiled happily: - Look how many colorful ones I have...

As it is narrated in one famous ancient legend, once upon a time, three cedars were born in the beautiful groves of Lebanon. Cedars, as everyone knows, grow very, very slowly, so our three trees spent centuries thinking about life and death, about nature and humanity.

They saw how the envoys of King Solomon arrived on the land of Lebanon and how then, in battles with the Assyrians, this land was washed with blood. They saw their sworn enemies face to face - Jezebel and the prophet Elijah. During their reign the alphabet was invented; they marveled as caravans laden with colorful fabrics passed by.

And one fine day the cedars decided to talk about the future.

“After everything I’ve seen,” said the first, “I would like to turn into a throne on which the most powerful king on earth will sit.”

“And I would like to become part of something that will transform Evil into Good forever,” said the second.

“As for me,” said the third, “I would like people, looking at me, to remember God every time.”

Years and years passed, and finally, woodcutters appeared in the forest. They cut down the cedars and sawed them.

Each cedar had its own cherished wish, but reality never asks what we dream about. The first cedar became a barn, and a manger was built from the remains of its wood. The second tree was used to make a rough rustic table, which was later sold to a furniture dealer.

The logs from the third tree could not be sold. They were sawn into planks and left to be stored in a warehouse in a big city.

The three cedars complained bitterly: “Our wood was so good! But no one found a worthy use for it.”

Time passed, and then one day, starry night, a certain married couple who could not find shelter for themselves decided to spend the night in a barn built from the wood of the first cedar. The wife was pregnant. That night she gave birth to a son and laid him in a manger on soft hay.

And at that very moment the first cedar realized that its dream had come true: it served as a support for the greatest King of the Earth.

A few years later, in one modest village house people sat down at a table made of second cedar wood. Before they began to eat, one of them said a few words over the bread and wine that were on the table.

And then the second cedar realized that at that very moment it served as a support not only for the cup of wine and the dish of bread, but also for the union between Man and the Divine.

The next day, a cross was made from two boards of the third tree. A few hours later they brought a wounded man and nailed him to the cross. The third cedar was horrified by its fate and began to curse its cruel fate.