I ask this from the Lithuanians:

- Guys! Why are you so slow?

“This is what,” they say, “you would see our Estonian acquaintances ...”

Vilnius. Old city. Every girl looks like Brunhilde, every young man wants to be called Olaf. Scandinavia - and only. Chinnye companies conduct slow conversations in small cafes. The aroma of coffee tickles your nostrils. My acquaintances, even the one who had the surname Petrov, spoke without raising or lowering their voices, almost without changing the intonations and tempo. Our conversation flowed in a sort of hypnotic rhythm, calming and leading to a state of half-sleep. Soul rest, so to speak. And the most senseless words were filled with deep meaning, and the bartender, who looked more like a millionaire in his threesome and bow tie, reminded me of a famous Baltic artist.

And suddenly a girl breaks into this peace, says: “Hello, zinger,” clicks someone on the nose, someone on the ear, smacking someone else on the cheek, gives me a look at an experienced appraiser of a jewelry store and sits down beside him.

- Who are you, oh bright vision, tremulous mirage, fresh breeze in this falling asleep world? - I ask her.

Another appreciative glance:

- Well, say something else!

- You are welcome! - I smile. - Who are you, o maid? I do not valkyrie and where is your horse? Surely sting the grass there, around the corner, on a disgustingly correct and well-groomed lawn?

She half closed her eyes:

- It's damp, but nothing. For the first acquaintance come down. I'm Sveta, what's your name?

- Alexey, - I shyly pick my palm with my index finger.

- Very nice...

- And it is nice for me!

- How? - She is interested.

- Words can not convey!

- Where did you get it? - asks Light from those present.

“Why, come here, you know,” they answer.

- Svetlana, nothing that I'm not asking? You tell me the Cherkani telephone number and I will definitely call you next time before coming! And you really come to meet me on a white horse.

Here we sit, talk. I look, my Balts have gone completely, behind the conversation they barely keep up, and are silent.

- Where are you from here? - interested. - Straight ray of light in the dark kingdom ...

“Why, I came to my grandmother from Dnepropetrovsk, and I stayed. I like it here. Handsomely.

- It is right. Beautiful girls should live in beautiful cities.

- Do not lick!

- And I do not cuddle!

- And why these compliments about beautiful girls?

- Compliments? Yes, I'm Hamlet. I thought you were angry that I used the phrase "beautiful girl" in the plural. After all, looking at you it can be pronounced only in one thing.

- And now - Hamish!

- Haml? Yes, I just keep back. The phrase in fact should sound: “Divinely beautiful girl!”

Word by word, Sveta and I were left in splendid isolation. Our company went home, tired of the mad, almost Italian, pace of conversation. And here I am silent. I sit, I look at her, I admire - frankly. And the words are all gone somewhere

- Why did you stop talking? - asks Sveta.

- I'm afraid ...

- What?

- I’m afraid to say nonsense ...

- You already said everything you could!

- Not. Not yet.

- And what did not say?

- Why, I think, I will ask you for your hands and hearts, and then I will regret all my life!

- You will not, I do not agree.

- That's exactly why I will ...

We drank some local brandy. I already broke up with a vengeance, I hold her hand in my and even kiss you sometimes. It was already getting dark. I went to accompany Sveta home. We come to her house, and on the bench at the entrance there is a young man with flowers. I saw her and brightened all. Flies to her with a bouquet in her outstretched hand. I immediately felt superfluous and quietly, sideways, aimed at the corner.

“Stay where you are,” the corner of his mouth tells Sveta to me, and then to him:

- Hello, Robert!

- Hello, Sveta! - and it glows all joyfully and looks mysteriously.

- As always, Robert?

- As always, Sveta! - kisses her hand and ... leaves.

“Mama Mia,” I think, “this is a kind of conspiracy.”Schba this Robert with an ax from the bushes will jump out and me right on an empty head ... "

- Who is this? - I ask a well-veiled question.

- Robert?

- Yeah ...

- Groom!

- What about me?

- Not you are the first, - says Sveta, - not you are the last ... And he is not the first either. He meets me every day, and I'm with someone all the time ... Will you visit me?

“So he loves you,” I say sincerely.

“And you,” she turns to me.

- But not me! No longer!

- Well, scram!

- Well, bye! - hands in trousers and where eyes look.

I go out into the street. A pebble in front of me with my foot podbutbolivu and suddenly because of the bushes - Robert himself. True, without an ax.

- Hello! - He speaks. “Why did you leave so quickly?”

- Did not like...

- What did not like?

- I did not like anything! Leave me alone, sick without you ...

“Do not be angry, she is good,” Robert continues to walk beside me.

- What are you trying to persuade me to return?

Robert is silent, but not far behind.

- That's what, Robert. You do it, spit on it ...

- No, I can not. I love her ...

- Then go and sit there on the bench until you stop loving ...

“Listen,” says Robert, “come with me.” Sit there, drink a beer.

And so I feel sorry for Robert. It became that I was going with him to that ill-fated bench, grabbing a box of some beer 1 litta 10 centas. And we sit there until the morning, looking at the August stars and telling each other about our foolish life.

You should have seen the face of Sveta, who since morning caught us behind the second box ... Alexey Kovalev