Gallery The Quiet Don :

In the north-western gallery, there is a mosaic picture featuring scenes from the famous novel And Quiet Flows the Don by Sholokhov. A scene of the Melikhovs’ fishing in the Don River. There is a great description of the Melikhov father and son fishing together:

“Taking breath, Grigory drew the played-out carp towards the boat. The old man thrust out

the bailer, but with its last strength the carp again plunged into the depths.

"Get his head up! Make him swallow some air, that'll quiet him!" Pantelei ordered.

Once more Grigory drew the exhausted fish towards the boat. It floated open-mouthed with

its nose against the rough gunwale, its orange-golden fins flickering.

"He's finished!" Pantelei croaked, lifting the fish in the bailer.”

Another classical scene from the novel: Grigory Melekhov is watering his horse in the Don River and is casting glances at Aksinya, who is carrying pails at the shoulder pole… The mosaic conveys all the expression of the meeting of Grigory and Aksinya on the bank of the Don. He is taking the horse to the Don to water it, and Aksinya is coming down to the river with buckets to bring water home. Young Grigory riding the horse is making advances to the beautiful married Cossack woman, blocking her way. “You almost rode me down,” Aksinya scolds him. М.А. Sholokhov gives a detailed description of Aksinya in this scene, as if he is looking at her with Grigory’s eyes:

“Grigory turned the horse and followed her. The wind fluttered her skirt and played with the fine, fluffy curls on her swarthy neck. Her flat, embroidered cap flamed on her heavy knot of hair, her rose-coloured shift, gathered into her skirt at the waist, clung smoothly to her steep back and compact shoulders. As she climbed the slope she bent forward, and the hollow between her shoulders showed clearly beneath her shift. He saw the brownish rings under her arms, where her shift was stained with sweat. Grigory watched her every movement.”

The mosaic conveys Sholokhov’s description of the nature: “A teal duck whistled over their heads, as if thrown with a bowstring. Insatiably licking the blue chalk slabs, waves beat at the cliff. In the flooded area of the forest, white horses of waves flocked together. The wind carried the smallest mist of water, a fresh smell from the Don, rushing into the lower reaches in a mighty stream.” There is a Cossack hut with a wattled fence, sunflowers and a gaggle of geese on the steep Don bank.