The Night Before Christmas Read Free Page B

into his head; it was all hecould think about. Groups of caroling girls and youths proceeded from house to house, but the blacksmith heard and saw nothing of the fun he had once enjoyed more than anyone.
    *   *   *
    I n the meantime, the devil had thoroughly relaxed at Solokha’s. He covered her arm with kisses, clutched at his heart, sighed and moaned, and finally announced that unless she agreed to satisfy his passion, he’d go and drown himself, ruining his immortal soul. Solokha wasn’t that cruel, and besides, they really were birds of a feather. She greatly enjoyed having a train of suitors, but this evening she expected to be alone, since every prominent villager was going to the deacon’s. Only now this plan changed: no sooner had the devil declared his passion than they heard the voice of Dikanka’s village head demanding to be let in. The hostess rushed to open the door, and the devil promptly jumped into the smallest of the coal sacks.

    Having emptied a glass of vodka and shaken off the snow, the village head explained that he hadn’t gone to the deacon’s because of the suddenblizzard,but then the light in Solokha’s house gave him the idea that he might spend a pleasant evening in her company. Before he could finish, though, there was a loud knock, and they heard the deacon’s voice. “Hide me somewhere, quick.” The village head panicked. “I don’t want him to see me.” Solokha pondered hard where to conceal her corpulent admirer, then emptied the coal into the tub and stuffed the village head with all his outer garments into the largest sack.
    Striding in, grunting and rubbing his hands, the deacon announced that no one had come to his party but that he was glad of the chance to have himself a little party with her and so had braved the blizzard. Then he sidled up to the hostess, coughed, smirked, and with his long fingers touched Solokha’s full white arm.
    â€œAnd what’s this you have here, gorgeous Solokha?” he asked with a sly smile, taking a step back.
    â€œCan’t you see? It’s an arm.”
    â€œHa! An arm!” and, satisfied with such a beginning, the deacon strolled around the room.
    â€œAnd how about this, dearest Solokha?” and he touched her lightly on the neck.
    â€œCan’t you see for yourself? It’s a neck, and on the neck a necklace.”
    â€œHa! A neck! A necklace!” and the deacon performed another victory lap.
    â€œMay I inquire, incomparable Solokha, what is . . .” the deacon began, and God knows what he would have touched if they hadn’t heard Chub demanding to be admitted. The deacon went pale. “Oh dear, now Father Kondrat will find out, oh dear!” The deacon’s fears, to be honest, mostly concerned his beloved spouse, who had already reduced his thick braid to a skinny ponytail. “For all that’s dear, virtuous Solokha, hide me! Your kindness, as is written in Luke, chapter thir . . . Oh, anywhere, please!” Solokha promptly emptied another, smaller sack, and the not very large deacon fit there so nicely that you could easily pour quite a bit of coal on top.

    â€œWell, hello, my dear,” Chub announced, striding in. “Perhaps you didn’t expect me? Perhaps you were entertaining someone else, eh?” His slow brain was clearly churning out a joke. “Perhaps you have company hidden somewhere, huh?” and, delighted with his wit, Chub let out a hoot of laughter. “Well, giveusa sip of vodka, that cursed cold has turned my hands to ice . . . What a night, what a blizzard . . .”
    â€œOpen up, Mother!” the blacksmith yelled, banging on the door.
    â€œIt’s him, the cursed blacksmith! Solokha, you do what you want, but you must hide me from this bastard son of yours. May he grow bags under his eyes the size of a haystack!”
    Solokha, who at this point