Bon fillet Isabella Ranevskaya

This story of Faina Ranevskaya told filmmaker Yakov Segel. He loved the famous actress, often visited her house and then, full of impressions, shared them.
In the late fifties Faina found relatives and she was able to go to Romania and see his mother, which broke up forty years ago.
Sister Isabel lived in Paris. After the death of her husband's financial situation has worsened, and she decided to move to the famous sister, which she assumed, for all its titles and regalia, bathed in luxury.
Delighted that her life will be the first native people, Ranevskaya has developed a storm of activity, and obtained permission to return to the USSR sister.

Happy, she met her, hugged, kissed, and drove home. They drove up to the high-rise house on the waterfront Tinkers.
 - This is my house - proudly said Faina sister.
Isabella was not surprised: it was in a house to live her famous sister. Just wondered:
 - You've got an apartment or a floor?
When Ranevskaya has got it in his small-sized one-bedroom apartment, my sister asked in surprise:
 - Fainochka why do you live in the studio and not at the villa?
Resourceful Faina explained:
 - My villa is being renovated.
But Parisian guest is not reassured.
 - Why such a small shop? How it "residential" meters?
 - As many as twenty-seven - proudly told Ranevskaya.
 - But it's close! - Isabella wailed. - This is poverty!
 - It is not poverty! -razozlilas Ranevskaya - We considered it good. This house - the elite. In it live the most famous people: actors, directors, writers. There she lives Ulanova!
Last Ulanova acted: sigh, Isabelle began to unpack their suitcases in her little room provided. But she was never able to understand why this house is called the elite: the bottom of a movie theater and a bread shop in the early morning porters unloaded the goods, shouting, noisy, arranged all tenants "wake-up". In the evenings, ten, eleven, twelve sessions and ended with crowds spilling out of the cinema hall, loudly discussing the scanned film -I live on "bread and circuses" - tried to joke Faina, but her sister is not acted.
 - Why do you live in such a condemned cell? .. You're probably somewhat guilty.
On the first day of arrival, in spite of the summer heat, Isabella pulled fildepersovye stockings, wearing a silk coat, gloves, hat, sprinkled themselves as "SHaneli", and told his sister:
 - Fainochka - I go to the butcher's shop, buy bon-fillet and cook dinner.
 - Do not! - I exclaimed in horror Ranevskaya. In a country dominated by a thriving deficit and eternal stage - she knew how it would affect unprepared resident of Paris.
 - No need, I'll buy.
 - Fainochka, bon-fillet should be able to choose, and I can, - said proudly Isabella and headed to the front door. Ranevskaya as Panfilovets on the tank, threw it across the path.
 - I'll go with you!
 - One pound of meat to choose together - this is nonsense! - She said the sister, and left the apartment.
Ranevskaya made a last attempt to save his sister from the shock of the Soviet reality.
 - But you do not know where our stores!
She turned around and with a condescending smile chided:
 - You think I can not find a butcher shop?
And disappeared into the elevator.
Ranevskaya collapsed into a chair, imagining the consequences of the first meeting with a foreigner, sister of Soviet socialism. But I tell you that God makes holy fool and blessedness: in just a quarter of Isabella G. came across a little shop, a sign of that promise "Meat products". She peered inside: at the counter crowded and buzzing all sweaty butcher threw on the scales severed their cartilage and veins, calling their meat, and in the cash box thick cashier with a tower painted hair on his head like a dog out of the booth periodically bark buyers. < br />
Casks, barrels Isabel made her way to the counter and asked the seller:
 - Good afternoon, sir! How do you feel?
Buyers realized that this is a circus, and, free, and, as in freeze frame, everything froze and fell silent. Even sweaty butcher donёs weights to the next portion of "meat products". A former Parisian continued:
 - How do you sleep, Monsieur? .. If you suffer from insomnia, try before bed take two tablespoons of brandy, it is desirable to "Hennessy" ... And your children, Monsieur? You do not punish them? .. You can not punish children - you can lose a spiritual connection with them. You agree with me, sir?
Yeah - finally managed a butcher dumbfounded and nodded in confirmation.
 - I have no doubt. You look like my teacher of literature: in your face comes through the intellect.
Not really knowing what emerges on his face, a butcher, just in case, he wiped the sweat from his face.
 - Monsieur - got down to business Isabella G. - I need a half-pound bon fillets. I hope you have?
 - Yes, - I nodded Monsieur butcher and dived into the closet. It was not long, obviously, he caught the calf, caught it, and was preparing killed bon-fillet. He came back with a weighted and wrapped in paper portions of meat.
 - Thanks, - thanked Isabella. And she added: - I'll come to you on Tuesdays and Fridays, at four o'clock in the afternoon. Does that suit you?
Yes - for the third time the butcher nodded.
Paying at the box office, Isabella G. pleased thick cashier, pointing to her peroxide bleached hair curled on his head in the heavy tower:
 - You have a very trendy hair color, madam, all the women in Paris, too, painted in blondes. But you had better dissolve the hair curls to lay on the shoulders of: flowing hair, ma'am, decorate your friendly face.
Flattered cashier slipped two index fingers of both cheeks himself and became a force to stretch them, trying to smile.
When returning home, Isabella launched a package Faina gasped such freshest meat, she had not seen, obviously, the butcher cut it from their personal reserves.
 - Bon fillet should be able to choose! - Proudly said Isabelle.
Since then, every Tuesday and every Friday she visited the 'Meat products ". These days, exactly at four o'clock, the butcher let the cashier, closed shop, hang on the door sign "stocktaking", set next to the counter a large antique chair, bought in an antique shop, seated him his dear guest, and she spent hours telling him about Parisian life, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower on, on the Champs-Elysees ... And he said, resting his head on his hand, still listened to her, listening, listening ... and his face suddenly appeared unexpected, naive, childish smile ...