The Fairy Tale About The Hours. The White And The Dark Blue (The Sapphire And The Diamond). The Fairy Tale

The Fairy Tale About The Hours

It passed six generations to that. The master watch-maker lived. Often in the weekend master walked on his small town, listened to the back music of hours and thought: «Good hours, but I can make much better».

Townspeople very much respected the master and, when are meeting him, they wished to him happiness, good luck, health and that he would make else many great hours. But when they having departed aside, respectfully expressed about him. Here are the conversation of two ladies with parasols:

- You know, - said the first lady, - this master is our pride. He has glorified our small, but very accurate small town.

- Yes, he has the gold hands, - answered another lady.

And at that time the master went and thought: «Why people have families, animals have too, but the hours are not? Ah, how I should be happy, if  to me come such customer to whom is need the family of hours! And how I should make it! The hours intended for one person, will approach only to him. Both on character, and on shape of hours it would be possible to tell about their owners …»

In that evening, when in the sky easy greenish waves waved, but sometimes the plumose orange lambs ran, nobody could present himself that such downpour gush. On the streets flowed the present rivers – not to get over. The master decided to stay in a workroom at the night. He falled asleep, listening how the tact of his hours intertwines with a rhythm of sad drops of  continuing rain, and reflected: «Hours are bringing up by me, and they ticked in regular intervals, but the rain then strengthens that slows down the course, an each step – a new accord: simultaneous falling of drops on a roof, on the sheet of grapes, on the little light going away in the grass, on the tousled head of a titmouse. This music everybody hears, sees and feels … But it is interesting: who bringing it up? By golly, I shall go to be workmen to this miracle-worker. The remarkable watch-maker!»

Suddenly – knock at the door, which was opened, and from drizzling darkness had broken away a piece of not clear outlines. The fog flew into the room with him, had dissipated, and had appeared the coat with the long shirts and wet, but still beautiful moustaches.

- I wish order to you five hours for my family, - said appeared with foreign accent.

- The whole family of hours! - and the master jumped up on the bed.

- It is possible to say so, - smiled the stranger.

- Well, tell, tell me about you, - maundered the master, get round the mister and unwinding his scarf.

He poured some tea and showed the hours, which were in the workroom, talking, to whom they were belong. At the end the stranger himself unmistakably guessed, whose hours it is.

- Yes, make hours similar to my family. Me you had see. But my wife hadn’t. She is gentle and tender, clever woman, she greatly takes care of children. When she is being in pet or somebody pains her, her smile with which she meets everything in the life, does not disappear, only her eyes become such sad, that even our dog starts to whine.

About my mother. Now her face is in wrinkles and her hair is snow with ash, but in my juvenility friends, which meet me with her, asked if she is a bride. The charming person, but when is necessity she can by a severe word or by unexpected action to discourage everyone. She loves very much the family and all forces gives to grand daughters. By the way, about them.

One is adventuress, the girl with a drunk cherry inside. She is impatient – everything or nothing.

Another likes to travel together with me, to climb on the mountain trailways, to swim in the clouds, without seeing herself hand, to dash on hills, embracing a neck of a horse.

Now you know about us one or two. I give you term for the first hours three months.

- But it is too little, - tried to argue the master.

- Try to be in time. Here you are a half of the sum, the second half – when you finished. And so for each hours.

And he disappeared in dank night from which he was highlighted so unexpectedly and so wonderfully.

- See you later, - said the master for a closed door, he was surprised for such fast realisation of his dream, and he immediately start in for sketches of the next hours.

He composed, made numerous sketches, represented how his hours would look in material, glued sketchy layouts and choosed the first variant at last: the master seemed by this impression as the most exact, caught the being of person.

Being afraid not to be in time in time, the master has hung up the announcement: «Hours temporarily do not become. Holiday», but under his hands work hooted day and night that hardly it was possible to name holiday.