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The Postman’s Fairy Tale

  Mr. Corbaba, the postman, is tired of his own job: he says the postman runs around all day, turns left and right, wears the soles of his shoes, heels; Fifteen steps, of which eight thousand two hundred and forty-nine steps to go up and down, are always sent with printed matter, money orders, and other trivial things. What pleasure can they give people?
  Once, Mr. Korbaba sat sullenly by the fire in the post office, and fell asleep while sitting up.
  At six o’clock, the door of the post office was locked, and all the post office workers went home separately, leaving only Mr. Corbaba locked in there to sleep his big sleep.
  In the middle of the night, he was woken up by a rustling sound. He thought it was some mice, but when he opened his eyes, it was the house god in the post office. They were little bearded people the size of chickens, and each wore a postman’s hat and a postman’s cape.
  Ker Baba kept silent, secretly watching these house gods.
  One of them folded the letters that Korbaba was to deliver in the morning; a second divided the mail; a third weighed and labeled the parcels; Count money at the window. A sixth stood by the telegraph and sent a telegram, and a seventh and an eighth worked together on a special letter.
  After a while, the eighth house god said: “Okay, the official business is over, gentlemen, shall we play cards?”
  ”Yes!” The first house god replied, counting out thirty-two letters.
  The second house god took the letters and shuffled them.
  They cut the cards and started playing.
  ”I play the card.”
  ”I overwhelm it.”
  ”The ace is here!”
  Kerbaba couldn’t help it when he saw this.
  ”Excuse me, gentlemen, what kind of cards are you playing?”
  ”Ah, Mr. Korbaba!” replied the first house god, “please sit down and play cards with us.”
  He sent several letters to Korbaba and said, “Play your cards.”
  Korbaba Doubtfully said: “But this is a letter to be sent, not a card!” The
  little people told Kerbaba: The value of each letter varies, so it can be used as a card, for example: the smallest card is the one Letters of lying and deceit; the next smallest are letters of routine; the third is purely polite entertainment letters; the fourth is letters about new and interesting things; the fifth is letters between good friends; the sixth is The first type is a letter of willingness to serve the other party…
  The villains told Kerbaba again: the seventh type is a big name, a letter expressing love.
  The biggest card—the trump card, is a letter that pours out one’s heart to the other party: for example, a letter from a mother to her child, or a letter from a person to someone who loves more than his own life.
  But Korbaba still didn’t understand: “Excuse me, how do you know what is written in the letter?”
  ”Mr. Korbaba,” said the first house god, “we just need to touch the envelope to know. A letter without emotion is It’s cold, but the more love there is in the letter, the hotter it will be.”
  ”Oh, so, what do you eat?” Kerbaba asked.
  The house gods replied: “Sometimes we cook telegrams and newspapers, sometimes we lick postage stamps, but we love bread crumbs…”
  Korbaba fell asleep again and did not wake up until the next day. He told no one what he saw in the night. But since then, he has been more energetic in sending letters.
  ”This letter is hot,” he said to himself, “this letter is scaldingly hot: it must be from some mother.” For some reason, he could also tell which letter was cold and which The letter is hot.
  Once, Korbaba found a letter without the address and name of the recipient, and without a stamp. He found the postmaster and said: “Mr. Commissioner, this letter is very hot. It is obviously written with all my heart.”
  So he told the story of the house god, hoping that the postmaster would allow him to stay overnight in the post office so that he could consult his family. gods.
  The chief agreed. So Mr. Korbaba left himself locked in the post office for the night. In the middle of the night, after the little ones had finished their work, he sat down and played cards with them.
  When it was Mr. Korbaba’s turn to play cards, he played the letter.
  The little people said: “Ah, you have won, your card is the biggest, the trump card, because this is a letter expressing love.”
  ”This is impossible.” Korbaba deliberately disagreed.
  A little man put the letter on his forehead, closed his eyes, and read: “My dearest Marenka, I am writing to tell you that now I am a driver, as long as you agree, we can get married. If you still love me, please write quickly. Be faithful to you Franzik.” In the
  morning, Mr. Corbaba reported to the postmaster that it was a message from a young man named Franzik to Miss Marenka. Proposal letter.
  ”My God,” cried the Director, “this is a very important letter, and it must be sent!”
  ”Yes, Mr. Director,” said Mr. Korbaba, “I will go to the addressee, even if I have to Go for a year, even the whole world.”
  He put the letter in the mail bag, put some bread in it, and set off. He walked and walked, asking everywhere if there was a girl named Mazhenka. He had been everywhere, traveled all over the Czech Republic, found a total of 409,980 marenkas, but none of them were waiting for a letter from a driver named Franzik.
  Mr. Korbaba walked like this for a whole year and a day, but he could not deliver the letter to Miss Mazhenka. He walked through country and city, field and forest, for a whole year and a day, seeing everything and getting nothing.
  He sat on the side of the road with his head bowed, and said to himself: “It seems that I have traveled all this way in vain, and I can’t find this Miss Marenka.”
  He was so sad that he wept. At this time, a car came on the road. It drives very slowly – six kilometers in an hour, like a crawl. But wait until you get a closer look at this car—my God, it’s a beautiful little car with eight cylinders. The gentleman sitting in the car said to Mr. Korbaba: “Please get in the car, Mr. Postman, and I will show you a way!”
  Mr. Korbaba’s feet hurt so much that he got into the car.
  He saw that the driver of the car was dressed in black and had a sad face; the gentleman sitting in the car was also dressed in black and had a sad face.
  Kerbaba couldn’t help asking: “Why does such an excellent car drive so slowly?”
  The gentleman replied: “Because the driver was a sad driver.”
  The gentleman continued: “Because he Sent a letter to his beloved one day ago and received no reply. So he thought, she doesn’t love him anymore.”
  Mr. Corbaba exclaimed: “Is the driver’s name Franzick? Is that lady’s name Mazhenka?” The
  driver replied sadly, “I’m Franzik, and that ungrateful woman’s name is Mazhenka.”
  “Haha,” Korbaba exclaimed happily, “No You are the fool who writes your name and address and sends letters without postage stamps! Miss Marenka didn’t receive your letter, how can she reply to you? I have been looking for her for a whole year and a day, now, tell me Marenka Miss Ka’s address.”
  Suddenly, Franzick stepped up the gas pedal and the car went straight ahead, as fast as it was flying.
  The car drove to a pretty village, and because Franzik was too embarrassed to see Mazhenka, Mr. Korbaba got out of the car and walked towards a small house. He saw a sad girl with a pale face, and he asked: “Miss Mazhenka, why are you so sad?
  ” No…”
  Mr. Korbaba handed her the letter. Mademoiselle Marenka opened the letter with trembling hands, and as soon as she read it, her cheeks flushed, she murmured: “This is the letter I have been waiting for for a year and a day. I don’t know how to thank you, Monsieur Postman.”
  ”You pay me the two kronors owed, I have to recover the two kronors for the post office!”
  Korbaba took the two kronors and said: “Miss, Someone over there is waiting to hear from you.”
  He nodded to the driver, and Franzick came over immediately. Mr. Korbaba hurried away to sit with the gentleman in the car.
  ”This sort of thing is much easier to settle in person than to send an unaddressed letter,” muttered Mr. Korbaba.
  Franzick came back, not saying a word, but smiling.
  ”Come on,” said the gentleman, “take Mr. Korbaba back to the post office.”
  As soon as the driver stepped on the gas pedal, the car drove away as lightly as in a dream.
  ”The car runs so fast because it is driven by a happy driver,” said the gentleman.
  They reached the post office without incident.

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