With that he moved towards the river and passed out of sight behind the waterside slope.
Sensei and Nikolai Andreevich were sitting on a snag that seemed to have seen quite a lot of fishermen’s second principal “operating tools” in its recumbent life. Both men with fishing rods in their arms were watching their floats in such a manner as though fish was just about to bite. Eugene came down the sand fill. The fishers were so focused on the process that no one paid attention to his coming. The lad looked at the floats rocking gently in the water and asked an eternal question of a traveler passing along the shore.
“Well, does it nibble?”
“Ah, just small fry,” Sensei answered with eternal reply of a fisher.
Eugene lingered for a moment in secret hope that a grandiose biting would start at his presence. But with no sign of that momentous event he returned to the urgent subject.
“Hey, Sensei! There is a cheeky fellow looking for you. He’s come on an SUV. He hold himself so high-flown...”
Keeping his eyes on the float Sensei smiled and asked: “Skinny, with a thin red beard?”
“Yes.”
“Turn him out!”
“OK,” Eugene rejoiced and started climbing up the sandy slope.
“Hey, wait!” Sensei called after him. “I’m joking, you know... He’s a parson.”
“A parson?!” Eugene slid down the slope in ineffable amazement. “The parson who, you said, would join us to fish?”
Observing confused the confused guy’s face, Sensei nodded with laughter and stood up to come out of his “fishing ambush”.
At the sight of his friend, Father John (or Vano as Sensei called him since childhood) seemed to have transformed right away. One wouldn’t recognize a former SUV driver in him. He assumed a humble posture and took on long-suffering air.
In uncommonly heartfelt voice, laying stress on “o”s, the guest started pouring out his complaints and admonitions: “What in the wide world is going on? It not enough that I’d barely found you, God being my helper at that, now there’s also this arch adolescent indulges in vile blasphemies. It almost came to manhandling...”
And so, Father John drew an intentionally vivid picture of his acquaintance with Eugene, winning the audience naturally on him. Then, he delivered a short edifying sermon on the topic that one ought to love one's neighbors. With a serious look on his face, Sensei ‘attended’ unto Father John’s touching speech, nodding in response and casting reproving glances at Eugene. The latter even got embarrassed at such words of the priest. The tips of his ears turned red as if he were a delinquent teenager. And when the guy – with the aid of flaming speech of the priest – was driven into a condition of browsing grass under his feet, wishing to sink into the ground for his behavior, before Sensei first of all, Father John suspiciously stopped short. Eugene was silent at first, depressed with shattering ‘accusation’. Then he raised his ‘madcap’ timidly and... saw Vano and Sensei shudder in silent laughter. That’s when Eugene finally grasped the concealed meaning of the aforesaid.
“Gee whiz!” he breathed out with relief.
All three let out a booming laughter. The laughter as a bait lured the guys and girls. After calming down, Vano heartily greeted Sensei and shook hands with the rest. Changing to ordinary pronunciation he observed in jest: “No, really, I’ve been puzzling out your maneuvers for two hours. I thought we agreed to meet in a different place...”
“I passed the word to you as it was explained to me,” Sensei said merrily, pointing to Eugene.
“Now, that’s who explained it to you?!” Vano exclaimed with a laughter. “No wonder you turned out here then. Pretends to be Ivan Osipovich!..”
“Do what? Which Ivan Osipovich?” Eugene didn’t get it.
“Susanin, young man. Susanin. It’s a shame not to know one’s history,” Father John uttered with reproof.
The entire company rolled with a new fit of laughter. The name of a renowned peasant of Kostroma uyezd (district), who led a party of Polish-Lithuanian interventionists into impassable dense forest, glued to Eugene through life by widely different people at that. But he did not seem to be daunted by that a bit. Quite the opposite, it stirred up pride in his historical compatriot.
Being in the focus of everyone’s attention, Eugene feigned a smile, shrugged his shoulders and pronounced: “Even Homer sometimes nods. You never know what happens in life. Incidentally, the motto of my ancestors has it that all happenings of life in their incidents and opportunities are divided precisely into two halves. May be and may not be.”
By these words he called forth a new hailstorm of jokes and laughter. Later on, when everyone managed to figure out who is who and what place they occupy under the sun, there began a hospitable welcome of the dear guest. In an attempt to rehabilitate himself before the newcomer, Eugene started fussing about, which was unnatural for his mischievous nature, offering a verity of services. He aided in parking the SUV near the “best tree on the glade” that in his opinion cast the widest shadow. He thoughtfully carried Vano’s fishing tackle to the bank of the river and even inflated his rubber dinghy.
Such a valuable addition to fisherman’s accessories as a means of travel by water ineffably inspired the gathering. As would be expected, the right of “the first rowing” was passed to inveterate fishermen. Along with Vano they started to plough the waters in turns in quest of a decent fish biting.
As of Eugene, as soon as he made sure that the object of his “first-sight affections” swam out a considerable distance, he smiled slyly. His eyes lit-up with mischievous twinkle. While everyone was consumed with the process of morning fishing, “Susanin’s descendant” set out to implement his much suffered insidious intent. Especially as, in his opinion, there was not much of a true fishing to look forward to as such because of his hopelessly entangled net.
Having found an empty water bottle, Eugene learnedly made an unpretentious sprinkler out of it by pinning several holes in its cap. Then he filled it with water and made his way to the provision tent where he generously poured sugar into the bottle. Next, he thoroughly shook up his “detonating mixture”, got out of the “bunker” and looked at the dinghy with a happy grin. The guy sashayed towards the SUV, walked round it casting amorous glances at this foreign monster. He glanced back and, seeing no unnecessary witnesses, with un– speakable pleasure, he started to plot a sweet water trail from an anthill located behind the mighty trunk of the “best tree on the glade” that cast a blissful shadow – the car was parked next to it exactly owing to Eugene’s exorbitant endeavors – towards the hateful “tractor”. Whistling a patriotic tune to himself, he threw some sweet water on the wheels and lower door chinks of the SUV with particular inspiration.
The guy regretted a single thing: there were no spectators of the scene who would appreciate at its true value the inventiveness and acting talent of the performer. Only a bird sitting on a top pine-tree branch with its head bent awry was curiously watching the fuss of a ground biped which was absolutely incomprehensible for its bird’s nature. Having emptied the entire bottle, “avenged Susanin” had a sigh of great relief and, as if being a devoted Green Peace member, started delightfully watching how the first scout ants were successfully overcoming the invisible distance he had drawn. Eugene’s mood turned apparently better. However, his crazy enthusiasm did not run out at that.
Having waited until the sun slightly warmed up the water, Eugene decided to indulge in underwater hunting and to catch at least one worthwhile fish. He glanced over the water expanse in search of a fish Klondike and rested his gaze on a boat drifting near the far bank and attracting him like a magnet. Vano was there for already half an hour with Victor who had offered himself to be Vano’s fishing mate. And suddenly Eugene’s advantageous mind was visited by his unfailing “muse” – a gorgeous mythical woman with an inexhaustible sense of humour as the guy visualized her.
Having