The Night Before Christmas (Penguin Christmas Classics) by Gogol Nikolai

Author:Gogol, Nikolai [Gogol, Nikolai]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

Vakula ran a couple blocks, then stopped to catch his breath. “What’s the hurry?” he thought. “There’s one last thing left to try: Round Patziuk. They say he’s familiar with all the devils and can do anything he pleases. What’s the difference? My soul’s lost anyway.” The delighted devil bounced up and down behind his back, but the blacksmith smoothed the sack with a hearty slap and strode off to Round Patziuk’s.

This Patziuk had once belonged to the Zaporozhian Host, but whether he was expelled or left willingly no one knew. He had settled in Dikanka ten or fifteen years ago and at first lived like a true Zaporozhian: did nothing useful, slept three-quarters of the day, ate for six farmhands, and emptied a bucket of horilka at a time. There was room enough, it must be noted, for all that nourishment, for despite his short stature Patziuk was fantastically wide in girth. He also wore the widest shalwar in the village, so when he walked it was as though a wine barrel glided along the street. Days after his arrival it became known that Patziuk had a way with diseases and could cure anything just by whispering. Lately, though, he had stopped leaving the house, either because of his exceptional laziness or because he could no longer squeeze through his door. Those in need of his services had to come to him.

Not without trepidation, Vakula opened the door. A remarkable sight met his eyes. Patziuk was sitting on the floor in front of a small barrel with a bowl of noodles on top and, without touching it, was slurping the broth and swallowing the noodles. “Well, well,” Vakula thought, “this one is even lazier than Chub—at least he eats with a spoon.” Vakula cleared his throat. “I have heard, dear Patziuk—please don’t take this in anger—that, well, you are rather familiar with the devil.” Vakula paused here, half-expecting Patziuk to hurl the barrel with the noodles at his head and actually covering his face against the hot broth, but Patziuk only glanced at him and went back to his noodles. The emboldened blacksmith continued. “I came to you, Patziuk, may you prosper in every way and have enough of everything in proportion”—Vakula liked to use sophisticated words he’d picked up on his job in Poltava—“I came to you because nothing else helped me and you are my last resort. I’m in need, you see, of the devil’s assistance. What should I do?”

“If you need the devil, you should go to the devil,” responded Patziuk without raising his head from the bowl.

“That’s why I came to seek your favor,” and Vakula bowed again. “Except for you, no one seems to know the way.”

Patziuk continued with his slurping.

“I beg you, dear neighbor, don’t deny me this. Anything you need—pork, sausage, buckwheat, cloth, or anything else, as is customary among good neighbors—just tell me. Would you approximately describe the way?”

“If a man carries the devil on his shoulders, he doesn’t have far to go,” Patziuk said indifferently, without changing position.

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