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– Petronel! Daria exclaimed and rushed to him in despair. The prisoner looked exhausted and depressed.
– Dorian! – Peter found the strength to hug her. Then he pulled away and stared in surprise at the beautiful face that reflected both the joy of meeting and the shock of what he saw. His voice, as before, remained as euphonious. – How did you get in here?
– My beloved, my heart breaks from what I see. My friends helped me arrange our meeting, I got an audience with the king and appealed to his Majesty for a sense of justice. You may be released soon, but it will be possible only by a court decision.
Peter listened attentively to Daria’s words, lowering his head. Then, looking at her as if he had seen her for the last time, and with a calmness that betrayed the full horror of his situation, he asked:
– Do you really believe I’m going to get out of here? The reason is not in me, but in your beauty and the brightness of the feelings that it causes. The king’s sympathy for a married woman is a death sentence not only for the Comte de Armand de Burlemont.
Peter looked at Daria and smiled. She was suddenly afraid.
– What should we do? – she exclaimed. There was no trace of her former determination. – Darling, I have revealed to the King the secret of our time travel, but it does not seem that such explanations could be taken seriously.
– If we don’t change the course of events, we won’t see each other again. – Peter spoke as if he had thought it over for a long time. – My fate is sealed, and no one can change it. Your fate as a favorite of Louis XIV is so unique and unpredictable that I have not the slightest right to ask you to give it up. Ahead of you is success in society, golden mountains, dangers and imminent oblivion. But there is another scenario…
– Which one? Daria exclaimed, experiencing conflicting feelings, but still sincerely wanting neither to leave nor to betray her beloved.
– We have the opportunity to return to the twenty-first century together. To return to where they came from, and, perhaps, by those who left that time. But – listen carefully – if only one person, you or I, decides to make a time jump, the car will move with him, and the second one will not be able to return. This is irreversible. I think you won’t judge me: I want to avoid death, so I’m flying. But you are free in your decision…
Daria sank down on the bed next to Peter without strength. After a short silence, she asked:
– I’m desperate to have to make such a cruel choice, because I only love you. But will you be able to understand and forgive me if I stay? It is unlikely that my words will soften the bitterness of separation, but I swear: the reason is not affection for someone, even if it can connect me with the king of France. I choose a Time and a way of life where, alas, there is no place for the person I adore, and no one can replace him for me. I may regret it later…
– I’ve already forgiven you, because I love you too. I will feel happy if your dream comes true, even when I leave you. Know, Dasha, that you are always with me: your eyes, your kindness, the feelings that you gave me…
– Petya, I will never forget you. And I’m sorry again…
She began to cry, clinging to his chest. The lock on the cell door grated, and the jailer, without wasting words, pointed to the countess with his hand to exit.
An hour later, when the Comtesse de Burlemont was safe in the Hotel du Beautrin, a prisoner disappeared from the Bastille fortress without a trace. When the loss was discovered, the commandant raised all the guards on the ears, but the fugitive could not be found anywhere. The Paris police have been notified of the escape of a dangerous criminal and all possible measures have been taken to find and detain him.
CHAPTER 10. DEJA VU
Peter escaped from the dungeon of the Bastille, expressing his desire with the phrase “I want to go back”, and, having moved to another dimension, made a jump to 2021, crossing the gap of four hundred years and two thousand kilometers. When his ability to think returned, he felt like he was sitting on the couch next to his old parrot friends. The clever girls Grunya and Borya looked with obvious bewilderment at the guest who had fallen to them from nowhere, and bowed their heads in his direction in surprise. Their cohabitation in a cage precluded the ability to speak humanly, but undoubtedly: each of them would be able to express a common firm opinion:
– Peter is a fool, Peter is a fool!
Peter telepathically caught the thought floating in the air:
– Really, would a reasonable person leave his beloved, a count’s title and a royal court in beautiful Paris? – And then he answered with conviction: – No, everything was done correctly. The Bastille is not a Louvre or a sanatorium.
He looked around once again in a new setting: a rural hut, this is my first time here. Undoubtedly, the time machine had the function of sanity and, moreover, a well-developed sense of humor, placing it in a space causally related to the initial starting events. A kind of deja vu.
– I wonder who is the mysterious developer of this miracle that ignores the laws of nature? Nature itself? – Peter pretty much strained his thinking apparatus, but due to natural limitations, he immediately got lost in the wilds of abstract logic.
Having a unique experience of moving, he knew: first of all, you need to evaluate your current image. Kalinkin walked up to the battered trellis and studied himself carefully for several minutes. The mirror reflected a tall young blond man with a pleasant face, blue eyes and a short haircut – the spitting image of Paul Bettany. Light, three-day unshaven, a suit made of soft gray fabric, a white shirt with a small blue check, a brown belt on the belt and the same brown soft shoes. And what about the English language, the car did not give this bonus? Peter stood in the tribune pose and began to recite nursery rhymes:
– It is cold and still, the wind is away,
And a little Jack Frost is busy today…
In assessing his talents, he was objective: he had not advanced far, not at all Cockney, pronunciation of the type “English with a dictionary”, at the level of Pyotr Mikhailovich. A good reason to reflect on how the newly-made handsome man easily parted with the image of the pensioner Kalinkin, and how wonderful it is to feel young! The miracle machine intuitively determined that there was no need for a foreign language in the village. And here she is, a wonderful barrel, standing on legs in the corridor. As a convinced idolater, Kalinkin leaned towards her in a theatrical pose: thank you so much for the appearance and outfit, the spitting image of a dandy, if only the local boys, sensing an outsider, would not fuck off. Ask for what? And don’t walk down our street! Kalinkin put his hand in his pocket – and there, according to tradition, the Russian currency rustles. Normal course!
Peter left the house and, descending into the front garden, approached the fence: the forest was black on the horizon, cottages and country houses were scattered closer, beyond the meadow. The place is unfamiliar, I have not been here before. The pastoral picture was broken by the sound of an engine: a black Renault Duster jumped out from behind a turn of a dirt road, mercilessly dusting, and braked at the very gate. A dense brunette of about forty years old, dressed in high rural fashion, fell out of the crossover: a bright striped sleeveless jacket and elegant black leggings, frankly tight-fitting bulges and concavities of the body. The manners of a fashionista are clearly not aristocratic, such a person can also hit the head with a bag. She quickly jangled the alarm keyring and asked Peter:
– Hey, what are you doing here? – boldly she began her attack right at a gallop. And stopping about three meters from Peter, she continued the interrogation. – Who is this?
Peter was in no hurry to answer and looked appraisingly at the hostess of the house. It is easy to see that his appearance made a strong impression on her, but the level of aggression did not decrease from this. To defuse the situation, he gently replied:
– Thank you for taking care of Grunya and Borya. By the way, greetings from Dasha.
The brunette raised her wide painted sausage eyebrows in surprise and came closer:
– Is Daria back?
– Not yet, I left first.
– Where is she?
– In bed with Louis the Fourteenth, – Peter flashed through his brain, but he answered peaceably: – In Turkey, on vacation.
– Were you there too? It doesn’t look like… – The lady did not take her incredulous gaze off him and automatically identified: “stranger.” Indeed, all this was very strange, not to mention the fact that Peter’s appearance, outfit and manner of conversation were a complete dissonance with the local standard.
– I rested for five days, so we agreed from the very beginning, – he continued to compose. – And she’s for a full two weeks.
– It doesn’t look like a southern tan. Are you Peter?
– Yes, that’s right. Did Daria tell you about me?
– My name is Natalia. Yes, she said that she had a new acquaintance, a cute brown-haired man. And you’re blond.
– I burned out in the sun, – Peter was not at a loss, having given out complete nonsense, and thought: – Wow, these women…
Everything looked silly and doubtful. However, Natalia didn ‘t show it:
– Okay, why are we standing here. Come in, – and the first one resolutely headed for the house. Peter followed the hostess, noting the energetic gait and, of course, automatically assessing her advantages, accessible to the view from behind, somewhere four plus.
– And what is this? – she stared at the new object in the corridor, and then looked questioningly at the guest. – Where is this from?
There was a version that this barrel is an antique value, which was acquired today in the village with the assistance of Daria.
– Yes, yes, it is Daria, – Peter stressed, noticing a positive reaction to her name.
– Actually, I came to check on the birds, Dasha asked for it very much, she was worried… and then they called about this device, said it was urgent, so I asked them to deliver it here. But how did you get into the house?
– I couldn’t get through to you, I climbed through the window…
The further Peter fantasized, the more ridiculous the story became, however, it did not seem to bother the hostess in the least. After making sure that the house was in order and everything was in place, she changed her anger to mercy, sat down on a chair, lit a cigarette, and new, playful notes appeared in her low, confident voice.
– It’s not so important, – she reasoned, – where this incomprehensible dandy came from to visit her, the main thing is that Dasha is far away…
– Are you hungry? I’ll edit and sew something right now, – she said allegorically, wanting to seem original. – By the way, where did you buy such a beautiful suit?
– In Antalya. In the evening we went for a walk with Dasha, walked along the boulevard, went into the salon. There are good discounts in the season.
– So you came straight to us from St. Petersburg?
– Yes, exactly. I left my suitcase at home and took a taxi straight to you.
Peter was thinking how to get out of this situation: it is impossible to leave without a barrel – shaped device, it is more expensive to open the secret of time travel to this lady. To shorten the distance, too. Funny assholes in a cage, jumping from pole to pole, were in solidarity with him.
– So when will you pick up the birds, today? – Natalia pumped the situation with enviable perseverance. She clearly liked this dandy for his unconventionality, she had not had a man for a long time, and it was not bad for Dasha to set horns: she envied her, beautiful and farcical, everything was too simple for her – both with friends and lovers. And she has to support herself alone, and help her mother…
– As you say. I can spend the night at Daria’s house, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you, but I can’t pick up the antiques today – it’s too late, and I’m tired from the road. Maybe we can arrange everything tomorrow morning?
Natalia mentally approved the course of his reasoning. She was really lonely, even if today would be a small festive evening, not like the others. Let him stay…
– You are like snow on my head! – she smiled pleasantly. And then she asked with an innocent expression on her face: – Would you like a drink?
That was the key moment: if Peter had answered in a different way, events would have unfolded unlikely. But he politely declined the offer with a soft smile:
– No, thanks. And you?
– I can’t drink alone, – Natalia answered unexpectedly harshly. In her words, one could hear the demonstrative position of an ascetic, and a reproach for refusal, and the offended chastity of a decent woman. The fountain, alas, was not expected…
They talked little at the table, avoiding eye contact, responding only to the questions on duty: more bread, salt, with or without gravy? Peter rightly praised Natalia for a delicious lunch, we lit a cigarette together. We chatted on neutral topics: about the weather here and in the Mediterranean, what is interesting in Turkey, how was the flight. There was an awkward pause.
– Don’t you want to do men’s business? – the hostess provocatively, slightly narrowing her green eyes, looked at the guest. Obviously, she had a course of action for any response. If “yes”, then you can, without losing dignity, develop this topic up to the consent to intimacy, and “no” – worthily retreat, flirtatiously playing with the instincts of a man, portraying a touchy. But Peter broke the slender female strategy, as if he did not understand the depth of the question, and asked:
– What do you mean?
– The toilet doesn’t drain well in the bathroom, can you fix it? – Natalia’s voice sounded poorly concealed, caustic mockery.
– A strong move, checkmate, – thought Peter. He is nearly an English lord, elegantly sent to load shit. And they offered bounty – a heavenly pleasure… He had a choice, but he dodged it. Not inflamed, you know… this is the price of female hatred for unfulfilled hopes and treacherous refusal.
– We need to see. Do you have any work clothes?
Finally went to bed. Natalia coldly wished good night to the space, defiantly making a bed for the guest on the kitchen sofa, and herself, stung, went into the room. Which is quite understandable: if there is no harassment for a long time, there is a malaise. And Peter stretched out with pleasure on a cold sheet and remembered Dasha – delicate, sensual and so dear, mentally thanking her for the symbolic lock in his heart, which she created with her love, the key to which no woman can now pick up.
The next morning, after hastily drinking tea, they began to gather. While Natalia was communicating with the taxi service on her mobile, Peter quietly left a couple of thousand on the trellis, and they said goodbye: she got into her car and went to a beauty salon in the center of the village, where she worked as a manicurist and administrator in one person. And he, after waiting on the street for the ordered car, barely pushed the barrel into the trunk with the help of the driver and asked for a ride first to the store where Daria used to work, and already there Peter would surely remember the way to her house.
– To visit us? – the taxi driver, a lively young boy, asked on duty, seeing a new face in his native places. He couldn’t stand city boys who beat off girls and buying up everything around, and even more so dudes like this. And the cargo is very strange, it will be necessary to ask Natalia on occasion: what for and how much…
– Yes, it’s good here, – Peter answered diplomatically and vaguely. – I need to stop by the store for a minute.
The driver smiled approvingly, portraying understanding and cordial hospitality. Entering the store, Peter, against all logic, caught himself thinking: how wonderful it would be here, behind the counter, to see Daria again… After quickly buying groceries and, most importantly, batteries – avoiding the previous mistake – he returned to the car.
Well, here’s Daria’s house. Peter opened the door: it is quietly, not any soul. Together with the taxi driver, they brought the barrel up the steps and left it standing in the corridor. For additional efforts, the driver received a generous tip, which he was satisfied with. How does Peter know that the taxi driver is familiar with Daria’s husband, and is already dialing his mobile phone number purely out of friendship – yesterday he drove him here from the railway station.
CHAPTER 11. SHARP HORNS
First of all, Kalinkin changed the batteries in the barrel, opening the cherished door. A time machine is a combat vehicle, a super – weapon in its purest form, knight’s armor, and a striking sword, and a faithful horse, and a war chariot, it is a rocket that easily pierces time and space through other dimensions. Peter has firmly learned: constantly keep her in a state of combat readiness, just like gunpowder that is kept dry. After lighting a cigarette, he leisurely walked around the house and suddenly felt a needle in his heart. Remembering the hot days spent here with Daria, those wonderful moments of harmony and love, Peter imagined the Countess de Burlemont, shining in the highest society, there in Paris… What does he dream about, who does he spend time with? Will there be enough strength for her – physical and spiritual – to overcome all the trials, all the temptations of youth and beauty? Will she find happiness among the tinsel and intrigues of the royal court? The soul groaned from these thoughts, and Peter clenched his teeth so hard that he felt the taste of blood in his mouth.
Here, in the present, nothing held him anymore. Ordinary and boring. Natalia generously agreed to look after the birds (“ten days before Daria’s arrival” – Peter lied before parting), there were no other moral anchors. Another thing is where to cast your gaze? The future for about ten years ahead no longer seemed so attractive after a visit to his apartment, and in the past centuries there were no significant events exciting his young imagination. He is also was so far from the naive desires of Pyotr Mikhailovich about Gioconda with Aristotle, and delving into the past is a regression by definition. The time machine provides a fabulous opportunity to possess new knowledge, hidden truths and the secret of an exemplary world order, which no one knows about today. It is possible that they will never know. You can realize any dream: to become an oracle, a famous scientist, or a fabulously rich nouveau riche, knowing in advance significant political and financial events. Therefore, only to the future. But how far, how many centuries ahead?
– Should I point my finger at the sky? – Peter asked himself, took mineral water out of the refrigerator and sat down at Daria’s computer. Delving into the Internet, he found information to analyze the situation.
The solar system is four and a half billion years old. However, nothing lasts forever, not only under the Moon, but in the universe in general. The sun gradually increases its brightness, and in a billion years our planet will become too hot for life. And around the fifth billion year of our era, the luminary will turn into a red giant. It will swell greatly, literally swallowing Mercury, Venus and the Earth. As a red giant, the Sun will last for about a billion more years. All this time, the outer layers of the star will gradually evaporate into space. Thus, it will lose about half of its current mass. By this time, the thermonuclear fuel will completely run out, and the Sun will become a white dwarf. There will no longer be any thermonuclear reactions in it, so the luminary will gradually cool down. Ten billion years after the transformation of our star into a white dwarf, it will cool down so much that it will stop emitting light, although it will emit infrared radiation for a long time. Such is the future of the Sun, a certain oracle claimed.
– What a prospect, – thought Peter, digesting what he had read. – I’ve come a long way. Let’s see what will happen in millions of years.
– Of course, humanity is unlikely to find such sad events, – another seer reassured. – After all, the typical life span of a biological species is from one to ten million years. During this time, the species either dies out or evolves so much that it has to be considered a different species.
– In other words, if I want to join some quasi-people, then a million years is just right. Something like that, – Kalinkin summed up.
No matter what hemisphere of the brain he thought, the concept of a purposeful, meaningful jump through time has not yet developed. But soon his perseverance was rewarded: not having had time to be born inside his skull, the idea did not pull the rubber and manifested itself from the outside. Kalinkin’s thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. Peter was wary – who did it bring? He got up from the table and sauntered over to the latched door:
– Natalia, are you?
– What the fuck is Natalia, come on, open up! – A hoarse male baritone sounded from the porch. – Open it, or I’ll kick the door down!
From the unexpected, boorish shout, Peter was thrown into a sweat, he instantly appreciated the danger and feverishly searched for an answer: who could it be? When several strong kicks followed a couple of seconds later, he realized:
– Darya’s husband, he’s back from prison! So let’s get acquainted…
The prospect did not fit into Kalinkin’s plans in any way, he had a hundred reasons not to communicate with an angry cuckold, and above all – for highly ethical reasons. It was all so disgusting, as if he had been caught doing something unworthy. Fate presented him with an unpaid bill for a happy adventure with Daria, and it seems that deferral of payment was not considered in principle: the deadline crept up unnoticed. In addition, Peter organically could not stand fights, bare fists and fencing on stakes.
– Don’t knock, I’ll open it now, – he shouted peaceably, trying to gain time. The blows stopped. Grabbing a chair that turned up, Peter put it on the floor and rested its legs against the front door, and the back against the wall of the corridor. Then he rushed to the barrel, pressed the red button and feverishly began to melt the necessary icons and execute commands:
– “Russian”, “Sit in a chair”, “Put on a hat”, “Choose the time”, “The future”.
The seconds seemed like years, his heart was pounding wildly. Powerful blows from outside resumed, but the door resisted thanks to the chair.
– Open! The bitch, I’ll kill you, – peaceful initiatives were heard outside. Kalinkin had no doubt: if the door opens, then so it will be.
– “Time” – Peter quickly typed the numbers at random: 12345, without even realizing how much it was…
At that moment, the sound of broken glass rang out, and a drunk man stumbled into the room through the window with strong curses. Looking around and not seeing his opponent, he quickly rushed into the corridor like an angry rhinoceros, sweeping away everything in his path.
– “Place” – Peter’s hand trembled, intuitively typing the familiar word “Paris”, as if there was his salvation in it. Perhaps, typing a word one letter more, he would have signed his death sentence, because the executioner was already standing next to him, and his glass-cut fingers, stained with blood, were already reaching for his throat. But at that moment something incomprehensible happened for the attacker: the victim suddenly disappeared…
– What the fuck… – the astonished opponent only managed to utter when the device, together with Peter, disappeared into another dimension, heading, fortunately, not to the address indicated by the former prisoner, who had already embarked on the right path according to the FSIN opinion. Having missed the lamb to the slaughter from under his nose, the jealous man did not philosophize for a long time, but, left alone, directed his emotions to practical rails: he tried a little, dropped a couple of chairs, threw the monitor to the floor, stamped his feet and launched a can of horseradish into the mirror… Then, satisfied with the result, he calmed down and found his little consolation in a bottle of Stolichnaya, thoughtfully bought by Kalinkin. Fiercely hating this bastard, he still did not disdain alcohol, because vodka is sacred, above human antipathies and prejudices. Subsequently, he often recalled this case in the company of loyal friends, when asked or when not asked, and certainly ended the narration with words, meaningfully looking at the puzzled faces of drunks:
– That’s the stuff in the tomato…
This colorful story did not pass by Natalia, unfairly deprived of fate from a local beauty salon. To begin with, as expected, she received bribes from Darya’s husband for involuntary complicity in this murky story, but then, as usual in decent companies, the pendulum of relations swung towards relaxation, good neighborliness and mutual attraction of the sexes under the influence of a fiery drink. So these two unwittingly helped each other and received both physical and moral compensation for the suffering and humiliation suffered from the unrighteous union of the insidious Peter and Daria, which once again confirms the well-known truth: virtue is always rewarded, vice is pleasant in itself.
CHAPTER 12. THE YELLOW PEBBLE
