Separate the wheat from the chaff

Separate the wheat from the chaff

From the Bible. The New Testament (Gospel of Matthew, chapter 13, v. 24-30) tells how a certain man sowed good wheat seeds in his field, and his enemy scattered weed seeds in the same field at night. When the field turned green, the slaves said that along with the wheat, tares also came up - weeds, and offered to pull them out. The owner decided otherwise: “But he said: no, so that when you choose the tares, you do not pull up the wheat along with them; leave both to grow together until the harvest; and at the time of harvest I will say to the reapers, Gather first the tares and bind them in bundles to burn them, and put the wheat into my barn.”

“Tare” translated from Old Church Slavonic means “weeds”.

Allegorically: to separate good from bad, harmful from useful.

Encyclopedic Dictionary of winged words and expressions. - M.: “Locked-Press”. Vadim Serov. 2003.


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    TARE, a, plural. tares, tares, husband. 1. Weedy field grass of the family. cereals Flax item 2. Grain shell (old and regional). Separate the wheat from the chaff (also translated: to separate the good from the bad; bookish). Cleanse yourself from the chaff (translated: from what n. harmful... Dictionary Ozhegova

    A; m. 1. Weedy field grass of the family. cereals Multicolor p. Fight the tares. 2. Nar. decomposition Grain shell. To clear, to free the wheat from the chaff (also: to separate the good from the bad, the evil). 3. only plural: tares, great. Book What... ... encyclopedic Dictionary

    chaff- A; m. see also. tares 1) Weedy field grass of the family. cereals Multicolor ple/vel. Fight the tares. 2) adv. decomposition Grain shell. To clear, to free the wheat from the chaff (also: to separate the good from the bad, the bad) 3) ... Dictionary of many expressions

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Separate the wheat from the chaff(meaning) - to separate good from bad, harmful from useful

The word "tares" means - 1. Weeds growing among cereals; The name of some meadow and field grasses from the grass family, individual species of which are weeds 2. Something harmful, bad, spoiling, clogging something, mainly in an allegorical expression borrowed from the Gospel: to separate the tares from the wheat (i.e., the bad from the good, not yet spoiled) (Explanatory Dictionary, 1935-1940 )

Expression from the Gospel. In the New Testament (Gospel of Matthew, chapter 13, v. 24 - 30), which tells how a certain man sowed good wheat seeds in his field, and his enemy scattered weed seeds in the same field at night. When the harvest came up, the slaves said that weeds (tares) also came up along with the wheat and offered to pull them out. The owner decided otherwise: “But he said: no, so that when you choose the tares, you do not pull up the wheat along with them; leave both to grow together until the harvest; and at the time of harvest I will say to the reapers, Gather first the tares and bind them in bundles to burn them, and put the wheat into my barn.”

"Matthew 13:24 He set forth another parable to them, saying: The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field;
Matthew 13:25 And while the people were sleeping, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat and went away;
Matthew 13:26 When the greenery came up and the fruit appeared, then the tares also appeared.
Matthew 13:27 When the servants of the household came, they said to him, Master! did you not sow good seed in your field? where does the tares come from?
Matthew 13:28 And he said to them, “An enemy of man has done this.” And the slaves said to him: Do you want us to go and choose them?
Matthew 13:29 But he said, “No, lest when you choose the tares you pull up the wheat along with them,
Matthew 13:30 Let both grow together until the harvest; And at the time of harvest I will say to the reapers, Gather first the tares and bind them in sheaves to burn them, and put the wheat into my barn.”

"Matthew 13:36 Then Jesus sent the crowd away and entered the house. And His disciples came to Him and said, Explain to us the parable of the tares in the field.
Matthew 13:37 And he answered and said unto them, He that soweth the good seed is the Son of man;
Matthew 13:38 The field is the world; the good seed are the sons of the Kingdom, and the tares are the sons of the evil one;
Matthew 13:39 The enemy who sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels.
Matthew 13:40 Therefore, just as the tares are gathered up and burned with fire, so it will be at the end of this age:
Matthew 13:41 The Son of Man will send His angels, and from His kingdom they will gather all temptations and the workers of iniquity, Matthew 13:42 and throw them into the fiery furnace; there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth;
Matthew 13:43 Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. He who has ears to hear, let him hear! "

The sisters were the same age and lived with their parents in the cozy village of Mezhirich.
The father was famous throughout the Sumy region as a wonderful potter, the mother had enough to do around the house and in the garden, and the girls went to school. They lived not richly, but not poorly either: the maternal grandfather managed the farm and brought his daughter vegetables, meat, and milk.

Those who understood black-polished – gray-haired, as their father called it – ceramics often came to their house to buy a jug, bowl or even a thimble. Asya remembered how one day a fat and bearded buyer looked at her father’s jugs for a long time and, not knowing which one to choose, asked:

Please advise: which one is the best?

The one that reminds you of your beloved woman more than others,” answered the father.

On Sundays, my mother baked a whole mountain of fluffy mlintz and stewed the herbs. It seems that everything is simple - you take pork ribs, potatoes, sauerkraut and simmer in the oven, but my mother seemed to know some secret: never in her life long life Asya never ate such wonderful food as on happy Sundays, when dad was at home, mom smiled and flew from the upper room to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the upper room, and when the bells rang in the bell tower of the Assumption Church.

And then everything collapsed. First, my grandfather was dispossessed.

“Mom,” asked Asya, “why is grandfather a fist?”

“Because he works from dawn to dusk,” the mother answered, “and when night comes, I don’t have the strength to get to bed.” He will sit down at the table, put his head on his fist and sleep until dawn. Just don’t tell this to anyone, understand?

Then my father left. Asya remembered how her mother cried, how she cursed some homewrecker and asked her to stay - “For the sake of the children.”

Didn't stay.

Mom, why did you call me Asya? - she asked once.

What should you have been called?

Lyuba? No, Asenka: love had left by that time. There was once faith, hope too, but love is gone.

A year later, my father was arrested and taken to the region. Asya never heard anything more about him.

And soon my mother died. Asya remembered that none of the neighbors came to the funeral, and behind the cart with her mother’s coffin were three tear-stained girls, her mother’s sister, who had come from Lebedino, and that same homewrecker.

After a meager wake, Aunt Galya told the girls to go out into the yard: the adults needed to talk.

Asya crept up to the slightly open window and heard the homewrecker asking her to leave the girls with her.

What will you feed them? - asked Aunt Galya. - You can barely manage to get by.

“Nothing,” she answered, “I can handle it.” And Ivan will return soon. Well, what kind of enemy of the people is he? They'll figure it out and let him go.

“Then we’ll talk,” Aunt Galya did not immediately answer.

Aunt Galya immediately warned the sisters: not a word about their father or dispossessed grandfather! “Whoever needs it knows,” she said. “But you don’t know anything!”

But no one asked them - maybe because the sisters only stuck to each other. The three of us went to school, the three of us went home, we even went to rehearsals for amateur performances together: Nadya sang, and Vera and Asya patiently waited for her in the small club hall.

Oh, how Nadya sang! She didn’t have a very strong voice—or did she not like to sing loudly? – but I wanted to listen and listen to him. There are voices that you want to sing along with, but Nadya just wanted to listen. It seemed to Asa that when her sister sang, even the birds and the wind fell silent. And the Olshanka River calmed down if Nadya sang on the bank. Often she didn't know the words: she would hear a song on the radio and hum it all day.

Aunt Galya brought her to the club.

Listen to my niece,” she asked. – Her mother wanted her to learn to sing, but does she have the ability?

What will you sing to us, Nadya? - asked the choir leader.

Is it possible without words? I only remembered the beginning.

Can.

And Nadya sang:

Ave Maria, grace of captivity...

Where did you hear this song, Nadya? – asked the choir director.

On the radio. What, I sang wrong?

So. Are you asking if your girl has abilities? – she turned to Aunt Galya. - These are not abilities. This is talent.

Before May Day, Nadya was sent to Sumy for an amateur art competition.

“Because of the gir, and because of the high blue eyes, the eagle can fly...” Nadya sang, and Vera and Asya sat in the penultimate row and proudly looked around.

Two months later the war began. The school was closed, the choir disbanded, Aunt Galya lost her job. Life became hungry and scary. At the beginning of '42, the Germans began sending young people to Germany.

Go, sign up,” Aunt Galya told them. - At least you won't starve there.

The sisters were brought to the south of Austria, to the city of Klagenfurt, settled in an Ostarbeiter camp and sent to work in a factory.

“Remember the three main commandments,” Vera said. - Stay together, don’t trust anyone and don’t tell anyone about your father. Then we will survive. And let's go home.

And where - home? – thought Asya. Not in Lebedin! And not in Mezhirich. And where to?

Their room was small and very sparsely furnished: three iron beds, a table and three chairs, but it was their room! In the evenings they told each other how the day had gone and dreamed: Vera - about how they would return to Ukraine, Nadya - how she would learn to sing, and Asya - how they would stew the herbs, bake mlintsy, brew cranberry juice and feast. It doesn’t matter where. If only together.

Sometimes Nadya sang. Quietly so that no one hears.
We heard.

First one, then another friend came to listen to Nadya’s songs, and then almost every evening their small room was full of people. One day the headman came and ordered everyone to leave.

We don't bother anyone! - Vera was indignant.

“I know,” he replied. - But today you have an important guest.

The important guest was a tall, plump lady. She meticulously examined Nadya and handed her the sheet music:

“I don’t know how to read music,” Nadya answered.

“Okay,” the guest sighed. - Sing what you want.

Mom embroidered red viburnum on the white, like snow, lower tablecloth...

The lady listened to the end and said in a completely different tone:

Tomorrow morning you will go with your headman to the Officers' Club. If you like it, you will sing there.

What about the factory? - Vera intervened.

If you like me,” the lady answered, still looking at Nadya, “it will be your job.” They will tell you what to sing. You will receive the same amount as at the factory, and if one of the guests treats you, you will give it to me. But I repeat - if you like it.

I liked Nadya. Now every evening she went to the street Rennegasse, changed into a beautiful long dress and sang. She didn’t care who she sang for: the main thing was that she sang and was not afraid to be heard. She returned to the camp when her sisters were already asleep, and when they left for the factory, she was still sleeping.

One day, a short, fair-haired boy approached Asya.

“We are fellow countrymen,” he said, “I am also from Sumy.”

But we are not from Sumy,” she answered. - We are from Lebedin.

Still close. I heard your sister sing at the competition. She sang great! You don’t remember me, of course, but I sat next to you and was happy for all of you. I immediately realized that you were sisters, you were so similar.

Yes,” answered Asya. “Vera is the smartest among us, and Nadya sings.”

And I’m just Aska.

“You’re not Aska,” he said seriously. - You are Asenka.

And from this affectionate “Asenka”, not heard since her mother’s death, Asya forgot about Vera’s commandments and told Mikhail about her dispossessed grandfather, about the homewrecker, her father’s arrest, early dead mother and to Aunt Galya, tormented by worries, she told her entire uneventful life.

Mikhail worked in the Alps. Six days a week the Ostarbeiters built chalets there, and on the seventh they returned to the camp. Every seventh evening he came to visit his sisters: to talk about the Alps, snow-covered in winter or overgrown with oaks and chestnuts in summer, about the Orthodox churches of the Sumy region: the Church of the Resurrection, destroyed by the Bolsheviks, or about the Transfiguration Cathedral with its amazing iconostasis.

How do you know everything? - Asya asked once.

Not everything,” he laughed. “I was just lucky with my father.” He was a priest.

Was? He died?

Don't know. He was taken away in '35. As far as I remember, he either read the Gospel or prayed. We had such a small rug - gray, shabby, so I woke up in the morning: my father was kneeling on it and praying. I fell asleep in the evening - he was on his knees again.

Michael brought his father’s “Gospel” - his main treasure - with him. Every time some difficulty arose, he asked a mental question and revealed the Gospel. The first thing that caught his eye was the answer.
Vera laughed at his piety, and somehow even asked or ordered: “Don’t fool Aska! There is no God! But Asya knew that Mikhail was right, and that it was God who sent her such a wonderful friend.

In the winter of '44 she fell ill. I was sick for a long time and seriously. No one treated her, they simply allowed her not to go to work. Asya lay in their cramped room and counted the days: this is already the third day without Misha, the fourth... He will come soon, bring dried blueberries - and where can he get them? - He will say: “Don’t be afraid, Asenka, the Lord will manage everything,” and it will become easier. And one day Nadya brought her a lemon. “Aska! Look what I brought you! Vitamins! “Where did you get it? - Asya gasped. "In club". “Stolen? And aren’t you afraid?” “I’m afraid,” my sister sighed. “But you are more important.”

In May 1945, the camp started talking openly about plans for the future. More and more often news came from Ukraine, and sad news. Almost everyone who returned from enemy territory was sent to the Gulag.

They’ll be coming soon from the International Red Cross - I’ll sign up anywhere, as long as it’s not in Ukraine,” said Mikhail. – Enough of the camps for our family!

Nonsense! - Vera said. – What camps? We are not to blame for anything!

“And my father was not to blame, and most likely, yours wasn’t either,” Mikhail answered. - And where are they now?

Klagenfurt, like the whole of Carinthia, found itself in the British zone, but even before the arrival of the Red Cross representatives, NKVD officers appeared in the camp.
“All citizens of Ukraine must report to the commandant’s office to register and be sent to their homeland,” read the notices posted around.

On the last evening, Mikhail came to the sisters.

“Asya,” he said, “I’m going to the mountains.” I'm not alone, there are many of us. Go with us!

She won't go anywhere! – Vera jumped up. - Everything has already been decided, we are returning home! And don't cry, Aska! And in general,” she suddenly added in a strange, unctuous voice, “why are you worried, Mishenka?” The Lord will manage everything!
“Yes,” Mikhail repeated lostly, “he will manage... I just can’t imagine how.”

This damn ulcer has broken out again! The already middle-aged special officer went out onto the porch to smoke and bask in the soft Austrian sun. “Ensure return to homeland.” It's easy to say. We should try to persuade these hijacked people ourselves: they shy away from this return like the plague. They even flee to the Alps, if only not to Ukraine. It’s good to campaign in the Soviet zone, but let’s try here in the British one. Yes... The earth is full of rumors. They know what awaits them in their homeland. Damn ulcer! And they have been silent from home for three months. How did Maria write about her daughter? “She was completely tormented by this asthma.” Poor girl! Well, nothing, the main thing is that the war is over: no matter how you look at it, they’ll go home soon, then they’ll all get treatment.

Far beyond the gloom, they gave the appearance of a retinue to joke about their share, grafted onto the share... - came from somewhere.
It became very quiet: he was probably not the only one listening to this gentle, quiet singing. Wow, what an amazing voice! It's like flying. He went down the porch and saw three girls around the corner of the house: they were sitting on stone pedestals and waiting for their fate to be decided. One of them was singing.

I ask for affection from the stars, from the sun, from the sun, let us clear away all the grief...

He called her first and found the name on his lists. So... my grandfather was dispossessed, my mother died, my father was condemned as an enemy of the people, and she lived on enemy territory for three years. No, everything is clear here. Special Department - filtration camp - GULAG. And your voice, girl, will disappear there.

“Do you want to go home?” he asked.

Don't know...

What were you doing here?

“I can’t do anything else,” she whispered.

So, so,” he said unexpectedly to himself. “Now you will leave here and forget that you saw me.” Go to the Red Cross, to the Alps - but I didn’t see you.

“I have sisters,” she raised her eyes.

I didn't see you here! - he repeated.

Mikhail found Asya and Nadya in the mountains in an unfinished chalet, and three weeks later he and Asya contacted the Red Cross.
“Choose,” they were told. - England or Canada?

Vera was sent to her homeland, and Nadya remained in Klagenfurt to sing in her club.

In 1971, the Vienna Opera toured the Soviet Union.
The former special officer sat down in front of the TV and asked his wife not to interfere. Yes, there was no need to ask Maria: she knew how much her husband loved music, but here it’s a joke! – Vienna Opera!

Is she or isn't she? - he thought, peering into the face of the middle-aged soloist. He did not remember either the name of that girl or her face - only the quiet clear morning, the amazing voice and his risky decision.

He really wanted it to be her! And it's age appropriate. Looks like she is! Of course she is!

Maybe there is a God after all? And he will get credit for it somewhere...

Nadya has never sung at the Vienna Opera and has never been on tour in the USSR. She was not invited, but even if she had been invited, she refused.

What did she remember from her life there? Of course, my mother: beautiful, with a light brown braid around her head. I remembered how my father left, how my mother cried. And how she died - and for some reason none of the neighbors came to the funeral. I remembered the Assumption Church in my native village of Mezhirich and the overgrown shores of Lake Shelekhovskoe. Lebedin also remembered her aunt: always dissatisfied, with pursed lips. I remembered the hunger. But most importantly, she remembered how afraid she was of everything: that someone would ask her about her father, and that her aunt would kick them out of the house. She was afraid to part with her sisters, she was afraid that they would have nothing to eat, she was even afraid to sing at the top of her voice.
Only after many years did she forget her fear and was afraid to experience it again.
She fell in love with her new homeland. Three amazing meetings took place here that turned her life upside down. The first was in June 1945, when that NKVD officer took pity on her. The second was when Maria Brand herself heard it a few years after the war. And the third is when she met Walter.

In the summer of two thousand and six, Asya decided to fly to Ukraine: only now, when Yushchenko was President, did she feel safe. And the AeroSvit plane flew without a transfer: otherwise she would not have been able to cope. Early in the morning in Boryspil she was met by Vera, her son Volodya and Nadya. What a surprise!
The three of the sisters sat down in the back seat of Volodya’s car, hugged each other and sat like that all the way to Vera’s house in Lebedino.

How long have they not seen each other? Almost a lifetime! Asya had a strange feeling as if only now she was finally home!

How far do we have to go? – she asked, and Nadya laughed:

It's not far now! I somehow calculated: how many kilometers are between us? It turned out - almost half the equator!

All three hundred and twenty-five short kilometers that lie between Boryspil and Lebedin, the sisters could not stop talking. “Do you remember?..” - one began, and the others immediately remembered what she wanted to say - and even more.

Vera prepared for the meeting: she scraped everything, washed it, bought all sorts of delicacies.

How much did you spend? - Asya gasped. - She probably got into debt?

“I got in,” Vera answered. “And you would fit in if your sisters came to you.”

The guests have gathered. Asya just managed to remember who was related to whom...

And in the evening, when the three of them were finally left alone, Vera called them to dinner in the small summer kitchen. There, on a wooden table not covered with a tablecloth, stood the most important dishes: sauerkraut, pickled cabbage, and a tall stack of mlintz. Moreover, boiled potatoes in a black-polished bowl and cranberry juice in a tall jug with a broken spout.

“It’s also my mother’s,” Asya gasped. - How did you save them?

“I didn’t save it,” Vera answered. - Katerina, may she rest in heaven.

Nobody bothered them.

Asya told how she and Mikhail sailed to Canada, how the Ukrainian community helped them with work: he was hired at a construction site, she was hired at a bakery. “We worked for six days and went to Church on Sundays.”

“And I,” Vera sighed, “still don’t believe in God.” Maybe in vain - I don’t know.

How can one not believe in Him? - Asya gasped. - Who helped us all our lives? Wow – I even had a chance to meet! By the way, I remembered... I Grand Duchess I saw Olga - the Tsar's sister - she also went to our Temple. So tall and straight. She painted icons for the Temple. She and I once lit candles next to each other and talked about something. It was so simple. Well, here... I, girls, counted every cent back then, but three years later we built a house in Toronto. Petya was born in it, and Misha died in it. I will die in it too. But now it’s not scary - I’ve already seen you.

After the war, I sang for a long time in the Firebird,” said Nadya. – There was such a Russian restaurant in Vienna. And even now, they say, there is, but now I don’t go to restaurants. And then Maria Brand herself, a vocal professor, heard me there. She came up and said: “Your voice is not for restaurants. Come to me, I’ll help you install it.” And she helped. Then I sang in the theater. Not at the Vienna Opera, of course, but also quite good. There I met Walter: he played the flute in our orchestra. He and I traveled around the world and toured. And when Anna was born, they took her on tour: there was no one to leave her with. It was a good time! I only missed you, my dear sisters! And I was scared for you, Vera. I kept thinking - why did you come back?

“I often thought about this too,” Vera sighed. - In eight years of camps you change your mind about a lot of things. And then at one transfer I met a woman - and not much older than me, but somehow everyone listened to her. I told her about you, about Austria. And she says: “You will see your sisters. Not soon, but you'll see. And don’t anger God, Vera, don’t complain. This is your destiny." Well, well, fate is fate. This means that one of us was destined to survive all this - it was better for me, and not for my sisters.

Those were terrible years,” Asya sighed. - How did you withstand them?

“I survived,” Vera answered. - There was no way to die. And people helped. When I returned from the camp, I was unable to register in Lebedino. She pushed around, pushed around, and returned to Mezherich. Lived with Katerina.

At the homewrecker? – Nadya gasped.

She has. She gave me shelter and helped me get a job. I lived with her for a long time - until I met my Mirona, I moved with him to Lebedin. And times have changed, things have become easier. And when Volodka was born, we took Katerina to us. He called her grandmother. Here she died in my arms.

Vera, have you forgiven her? - Nadya didn’t believe it.

Why was there any need to forgive her?

Well, did mom forget?

I haven't forgotten. I haven't forgotten anything. And how she looked after my mother’s grave, and how she went to the North to look for her father’s grave - I remember everything.

No. But I was looking.

Why didn’t you write to us anything about her? - Asya was surprised.

Katerina didn't want to. I was afraid that you wouldn't forgive her. Okay, girls, what are we all talking about sad? What a joy we have - we finally met! Nadenka, would you sing for us or something? Have you forgotten our songs yet?

I haven’t forgotten,” Nadya laughed. – I rarely sing now. How Walter died is not sung. Well, I'll try...

I wonder at the sky and wonder why I haven’t juiced, why haven’t I poured?
Why, God, didn’t you give me the krill? - I would leave the earth and fly into the sky...

On Sunday Volodya took the sisters to Mezhirich.
Little remains of their native village: perhaps Castle Hill, the Master's House and the Assumption Church with a bell tower. And the old cemetery, where two women, whom their father had seen in their jugs, lay side by side in identical modest graves.

On the last evening before the sisters' departure, Vera again put out the weed, baked some mlintsy, and set the table in the summer kitchen.

And how do you get such magnificent mlinzi? – Nadya asked. – No matter how hard I try, there’s nothing like it.

Where do you get milk? In the shop? – Vera smiled. - And for Mlintsy you need your own milk. Now I take it from a neighbor - I had to sell my cow.

Why? Is the food bad?

And with feed. In our country, after all, how the loudmouths came to power, life is not easy either.

What loudmouths? – Asya was surprised. – You have Yushchenko now!

That's what I say: bawlers. And he is the most important of them.

Well, I don’t know...” Asya shrugged. – Here in Canada everyone was just happy when he was chosen.

“It’s yours,” Vera snapped. - You shouldn’t live here

What do we make of her beauty? – Vera was indignant. “Ask anyone: the prison is crying for her!”

And who is your good one? – Asya could not hide her irritation. “Isn’t this the bandit who was in jail?”

“I was sitting too,” Vera pursed her lips. – So it turns out I’m a bandit too?

No one answered. I didn't feel like eating; and the grass and lush mlintsi have already cooled down.

In the morning Volodya took Nadya and Asya to the airport. Vera's blood pressure rose and she did not go to see her sisters off. For all three hundred and twenty-five long kilometers that lie between Lebedin and Boryspil, no one uttered a word. “Goodbye,” Volodya said to them goodbye. “Happy arrival!”

Nadya was the first to fly away.
Asya waited for her flight for almost four more hours. How so? Live a long life and understand nothing? Forget the Holodomor? How can you be so unpatriotic? Her sisters are close-minded after all...

Six years later, she received a letter from Ukraine.

“Aunt Asya,” wrote the nephew. - Could you send us two thousand dollars? Vitka, my son, wants to buy a house, he’s already looked at it - it’s inexpensive and not old, but he doesn’t have enough money, and there’s no one to help...”

Faith? And they didn't even tell her. Didn't think it was necessary. Like a stranger. And not a single letter or call since she returned from Ukraine. And she didn’t write or call. The hand itself reached out to the old Gospel lying on the table. The eyes caught the line: “Separate the wheat from the chaff.” What does this have to do with it? Eh, no Mikhail, no one to explain.

I wonder if they told Nadya? Asya went to the phone and began to slowly dial an almost forgotten number. 011 – if you are calling overseas. 43 is Austria. Now the area code, number... No one answered the phone for a long time. Finally they answered.

Nadia? - she screamed. -You don’t know anything about Vera?

Asya slowly hung up the phone and returned to the kitchen.
She took flour from the shelf, diluted it with milk, kneaded the dough and baked mlintsi (“Do you really have mlintsi? They need their own milk, not store-bought milk”); boiled tea and squeezed a whole lemon into it (“Aska! Look what I brought you!” “Aren’t you afraid?” “I’m afraid”); she sighed that there were no pork ribs: she would have to cut sausage instead; She took out an open bottle of whiskey and sat down to remember her sisters.

How so?
Neither the famine of the thirties, nor the war, nor the terrible years of repression separated them (“Let it be me, and not my sisters”); no distance (“At half the equator, I thought”)
What separated them?

“Separate the wheat from the chaff.”
God! But this is their love for each other - the grain and the chaff... But what difference does it make which of the strangers, striving for power, will take it? And why didn't any of them give in? I couldn't give in. Or she didn't want to.

It's already dark. Asya turned on the light and played the cassette for Nadya.

Ave Maria
Gratia plena
Dominus tecum
Вenedicta tu
in mulieribus...

And only then did the tears come.