Question

После урока в пустом классе сидела черноголовая девочка и рисовала. Она подперла щеку кулачком, от чего один глаз превратился в щелочку, и старательно водила кисточкой по листу бумаги. За этим занятием ее и застала завуч Антонина Ивановна. – Почему не идешь домой? – У меня скоро кружок. Я хожу в танцевальный. Антонина Ивановна собралась было уходить, но девочка остановила ее неожиданным вопросом: – Вы Лиду помните? Лиду Демеш. Она из Орши. Слова «из Орши» почему-то заставили Антонину Ивановну задержаться. Учительница опустилась на краешек парты, задумалась. – Она спала на минах, помните? Одна в холодной сараюшке. Мины могли взорваться. Вы приходили к Лиде за минами. Помните? Девочка вспоминала то, чего она в силу своего возраста не могла помнить, и как бы задавала учительнице наводящие вопросы. – А помните, как Лида торговала яйцами? Лида выносила на станцию полную корзину. А вы в это время подкладывали под состав мину. – Верно! Немцы бежали от вагонов к Лиде, совали ей засаленные марки, а я делала свое дело... Ты откуда знаешь про Лиду? – спросила Антонина Ивановна. – Знаю. – Девочка внимательно смотрела на завуча, – я и про вас знаю... Юная партизанка Тоня Кулакова... – Тоня Кулакова, – подтвердила Антонина Ивановна и посмотрела на свою маленькую собеседницу как бы издалека. – Лида все время толкалась на станции. Среди фашистов. Считала вагоны. Заглядывала внутрь. И записывала. – А я доставляла записочки партизанам. Теперь разговор строгой наставницы и ученицы напоминал встречу двух бывалых людей, когда один помогает вспоминать другому, и две человеческие памяти сливаются в одну. – Лида не только хранила мины, она собирала их, – говорила девочка. Она была ловкой и осторожной. Ни одна мина не взорвалась в ее руках. – Мина не взорвалась, – подтвердила Антонина Ивановна и опустила голову, – но Лида погибла... Две собеседницы замолчали, как бы сделали привал на своем трудном пути… Нужно перевести на англиский, пожалуйста >

Answer 1

Ответ:

After the lesson, a black-headed girl sat in an empty classroom and drew. She propped her cheek on her fist, which made one eye look like a slit, and carefully ran a brush over a piece of paper. At this occupation, she was found by the head teacher Antonina Ivanovna.

"Why don't you go home?"

"I have a class coming up." I go to the dance hall.

Antonina Ivanovna was about to leave, but the girl stopped her with an unexpected question:

– Do you remember Lida? Lida Demesh. She's from Orsha.

The words "from Orsha" for some reason made Antonina Ivanovna linger. The teacher sat down on the edge of her Desk, thinking.

"She slept on the mines, remember?" Alone in a cold shed. The mines could have exploded. You came to Lida for mines. Remember?

The girl remembered things that she could not remember because of her age, and as if asked the teacher leading questions.

– Do you remember how Lida sold eggs? Lida was carrying a full basket to the station. And you at this time put a mine under the composition.

– That's right! The Germans were running from the cars to Lida, shoving greasy stamps at her, and I was doing my job... How do you know about Lida? Antonina Ivanovna asked.

– Know. – The girl carefully looked at the head teacher, – I also know about you... the Young partisan Tonya Kulakova...

– Tonya Kulakova, " Antonina Ivanovna confirmed, and looked at her little companion as if from a distance.

– Lida was always jostling at the station. Among the fascists. I counted the cars. I looked inside. And wrote it down.

– And I delivered notes to the partisans.

Now the conversation between the strict teacher and the student was like a meeting of two experienced people, when one helps the other to remember, and two human memories merge into one.

"Lida not only kept mines, she collected them," the girl said. She was agile and careful. Not a single mine exploded in her hands.

"The mine didn't explode," Antonina Ivanovna confirmed, lowering her head.

The two women fell silent, as if they were halting on their difficult journey

Answer 2

After the lesson, in an empty classroom, a dark-haired girl sat and drew. She propped her cheek on her fist, causing one eye to narrow, and diligently moved her brush across the sheet of paper. The deputy headmistress, Antonina Ivanovna, caught her in this activity.

"Why aren't you going home?" she asked. "I have a club soon. I go to a dance class."

Antonina Ivanovna was about to leave, but the girl stopped her with an unexpected question. "Do you remember Lida? Lida Demesh. She's from Orsha."

The words "from Orsha" for some reason made Antonina Ivanovna pause. The teacher sat down at the edge of the desk, lost in thought.

"She slept in the mines, remember? Alone in a cold little shed. The mines could explode. You used to visit Lida for mines. Remember?"

The girl recalled things that she, due to her age, couldn't possibly remember, and she seemed to be asking the teacher leading questions.

"And do you remember how Lida sold eggs? Lida carried a full basket to the station. And you, at that time, were planting a mine under the train."

"Exactly! The Germans ran from the cars to Lida, giving her greasy marks, and I did my job... How do you know about Lida?" Antonina Ivanovna asked.

"I know," the girl replied, looking intently at the deputy headmistress. "I also know about you... Young partisan Tonia Kulakova..."

"Tonia Kulakova," Antonina Ivanovna confirmed, looking at her young interlocutor as if from afar.

"Lida was always pushing around at the station. Among the Nazis. Counting the wagons. Looking inside. And taking notes."

"And I delivered little notes to the partisans. Now the conversation between the stern mentor and the student resembled a meeting of two experienced people, where one helps the other remember, and two human memories merge into one.

"Lida not only stored mines, she assembled them," the girl said. "She was skillful and cautious. Not a single mine exploded in her hands."

"The mine didn't explode," Antonina Ivanovna confirmed, lowering her head. "But Lida died..."

The two interlocutors fell silent, as if taking a break on their challenging journey...