Keveda, Borges, Gongora - these are three names, three great Hispanic writers, three men who seduced me in my early youth and forever made a hot fan of ardent and romantic Spanishism in opposition to the disgusting pragmatism of stupid American toys and the ridiculous frivolity of Russian life. The Faculty of Romance Languages ​​at the University was for me something of a skete, a lecture - a form of aural. Of course, with such an attitude, my academic success set me apart from other studiosus, who did not study well or hard, out of a sense of duty.

The distribution has somewhat disappointed me: in the early courses, I thought it was brilliant international activity, almost the UN or diplomatic speeches, at least noble and elegant translations from Asturias or Cortazar. The reality turned out to be more modest: I had to work in a regular patent institute. Not only did the meticulous translations of complex technical descriptions give not too much room for imagination and stylistic delights, in addition, I often just languished from idleness, because Iberians are as mediocre in technology and technology as they are inventive in love and fine arts.

Yet then, often tormented, smarting and even despising myself for the pathetic, wingless style of existence, I could not imagine that this was the most peaceful and serene period of my life.

Everything collapsed literally overnight: perestroika broke out, the Union crawled into pieces, and our patent institute suddenly became unnecessary to anyone - in fact, it was always like this, but for some reason, surprisingly, our state considered it necessary to pay us a salary.

All this economy was dying slowly, extremely reluctantly, as if not believing in the inevitability of death. For a while, most of the staff went to work, and some of the more savvy business executives were already actively plundering furniture, office equipment, dragging some antediluvian slide projectors through the anteroom. A bunch of enthusiasts tried to organize a cooperative - after a couple of months it finally became clear that only the “British” and partly the “Germans” could generate income, the rest were asked to leave the boat. Then the boat itself overturned - everyone began to work for themselves.

I absolutely did not understand what to do. Not that I was literally dying of hunger - after all, there was a mother and her pension, but the debt for an apartment grew with awesome consistency. I began to wake up at night in a cold sweat, with a loud beating heart. I began to fear the future - because it did not promise anything. In addition, her mother began to show signs of discontent and irritation: in spite of her age, she led a rather intense personal life and the parasite daughter became more and more of a burden and hindrance. A couple of times in the heat of an argument, she even allowed herself to throw phrases like “you can’t do anything else - go to the panel” and the like, but, of course, then terribly worried about your tactlessness.

It was during this difficult time that I noticed an advertisement in “Advertising” that intrigued me greatly. “A wealthy couple is urgently looking for an attractive unmarried maid with knowledge of Spanish. Homestay. Call tel ... ”, etc.

That evening I dialed the number. A melodious female voice in immaculate Spanish called the address near Moscow and invited me to come. I begged money from the mother for the hairdresser, put on the best dress and the next day I set off.

Seeing not too big, but very well-kept mansion, I suddenly became agitated. Is luck really? At least a temporary respite? What if I don't get them? I felt my palms sweat. And why is there a car in front of the entrance with some strange numbers?

Doors opened slender red-haired beauty with aspen waist. I was invited into the house, led to the living room.Fifteen minutes later, everything became clear: Costa and Theodolina Casares - Colombian diplomats, just accredited in Russia. He trained at Harvard, she is a graduate of the famous Andean University, defended her thesis on culturalism, adores Gongor, and what struck me especially was that Aureliano Fernandez Guerra y Orbe had a great-niece! It seemed that my most audacious institute dreams were being fulfilled.

I was even more impressed by the amount that Casares, without bargaining, offered as a salary. Probably, I could not hide my joy, because Theo suddenly sternly lifted his graceful finger and noticed:

- - We liked you, Maria, we take you. But remember: the house is not small, there is enough work, you will be loaded all day and therefore you will have to live here.

I hurriedly nodded.

“And another condition,” Theo continued. - People Kosta and I are old-fashioned, from a backward Latin American country ...

I tried to protest, but she ignored my protests:

- - ... and therefore we adhere to traditions in relations with servants.

Of course, the word “servant” was unpleasant for me, but in essence she was right - the maid is exactly the servant, the servant in Spanish. This has always been her status in the large patriarchal families of the Colombian latifundists. But what could the word “old mode” mean in my case?

As if answering an unspoken question, Theo said:

- - And this means that for mistakes or omissions, my husband and I will not, for example, reduce your salary, but will punish you easily, in a family way. It's clear?

“N-not really,” I choked out.

- - Well, well, you probably read the novels of Lugones and our other writers!

- - Yes, but ...

- - And besides, you, like everyone, were once a little girl who sometimes plays pranks, does not obey her parents, and then - then you were punished, right?

I silently nod my head.

- - You see! But try to be executive, obligatory, obedient (in Spanish, she used the word "submissive") - and you will avoid punishment. Clear?

I swallowed hard. Become a servant in the present, Latin American sense of the word! And where? In Moscow, in the heart of Russia! I knew perfectly well what this means - here Theodolin was absolutely right. I not only read, in my imagination, I savored more than once savory scenes with cruel, purely Spanish realism. They attracted, pulled me like a magnet. But to go for it in life ...

My silence was clearly prolonged, and I suddenly thought with fright that Theo might take an awkward pause for refusal. What will I do without the promised salary? How do I get out of debt, out of poverty? How much more will I sit on my mother's neck? And will I really end up just on the panel?

Hastily, with excessive vehemence, I blurted out:

- - Of course, I agree, Senora! - and immediately felt that a hot wave rushed to her cheeks.

Theodolin smiled thinly.

“Then proceed to your duties tomorrow, Masha!”

So began this unusual period in my life. At first, the work seemed to me not particularly difficult, and besides, I quickly fell victim to sudden love — Costa, tall, dark and passionate, turned out to be a typical hidalgo. I think he liked me too - in any case, I often caught myself in his dark, glowing inner fire look. Naturally, I was slightly afraid that Theo might be jealous of my handsome husband, and this would end in disrepair. That is why I was surprised when, as if by chance, she suggested that I should dress "not so conservative."

- - What do you mean, senora? - I asked.

“It is not necessary to wear underpants at home,” she calmly explained. - In fact, it is not even accepted in those places where we come from. And the chest ...