Read the breakups part 1 in abbreviation. Online reading of the book Oblomov I

Below you will find a summary of "Oblomov" by Goncharov I.A.

Part 1

Chapter 1

The novel begins with a description of the main character - the nobleman Ilya Ilyich Oblomov. He is thirty years old; his character is soft and trusting, he spends most of his time in dreams and idleness. A couple of years ago, he received a letter in which the headman of his family estate - Oblomovka - says that he needs to come there and start arranging the economy, but Ilya Ilyich was not going to go to Oblomovka. The owner of the apartment in which he lives needed his housing; the main character needs to move out.

Chapter 2

In the afternoon, guests come to Oblomov - Volkov, Sudbinsky and Penkin; they offer him to go somewhere, but he refuses. Then Alekseev comes in, who invites Oblomov to Yekateringof, but he is too lazy. The protagonist appreciates Alekseev for his ability to listen and stay in the room for a long time waiting for his attention. Ilya Ilyich tells the guest that he was upset by the letter from the headman, informing him that this year his estate is suffering a loss of two thousand.

Chapters 3-4

After Alekseev, Tarantiev visits Oblomov's apartment, who, on the contrary, was a noisy person and could bring Ilya Ilyich out of his static state. A man hides from a guest under a blanket, because he came from the street, and it's cold there. Oblomov and discusses the letter of the headman with him; Tarantiev believes that the headman is a swindler, advises him to change and asks for money for his help. Tarantiev also offers Ilya Ilyich to move to his godfather's apartment.

Chapters 5-7

Further in the novel follows a description of the life of the protagonist. Oblomov has been living in St. Petersburg for twelve years; in the service has the rank of collegiate secretary. The estate passed into his possession after the death of his parents. The service of Ilya Ilyich lasted a little over two years; once he made a mistake with the address of sending an important paper, after which he no longer appeared at the workplace, fearing discontent from his superiors. After some time, he resigned, became lazy and almost stopped communicating with friends. Oblomov's closest friend was Andrey Stolz - his childhood friend, a practical person who is constantly engaged in self-development, sets himself various goals and achieves them. Ilya Ilyich never had a passion for studying; only poetry aroused his interest. Long trips also did not appeal to the main character; he traveled only to Moscow and Oblomovka. In his dreams, Ilya Ilyich invents interesting moments of his life and presents himself as a great man, but all this does not go beyond his dreams. Zakhar - Oblomov's servant - a rather clumsy and lazy person; he is very devoted to the master, who has been by his side since early childhood.

Chapters 8-9

When the guests left, Ilya Ilyich began to dream of a happy life on the estate. These thoughts made him happy; he decided to have breakfast and write a letter to the elder. However, the letter came out clumsy, and Oblomov tore it up. After that, Zakhar invites him to leave the house for a while, so as not to interfere with the servants to carry things for moving, but Ilya Ilyich does not want to change the apartment. They quarrel, and the master goes to bed, asking Zakhar to wake him up in the evening.

In a dream, Oblomov sees himself as a child; with him is his mother and an old nanny who tells him fairy tales. The everyday life of Ilya Ilyich's relatives consisted of successive rituals and feasts - funerals, weddings, births. The rest of the time, everyone carried on insignificant, almost meaningless conversations, yawning and dozing. Trouble and worries were alien to those who lived in Oblomovka.

Chapters 10-11

At this time, Zakhar in the courtyard complains to the servants about his master, however, when they began to agree with him, he begins to praise both Oblomov and himself. Then he intends to wake Ilya Ilyich, but he refuses to get up and scolds him. Stolz, who came to Oblomov, is watching them.

Part 2

Chapters 1-2

Stolz, unlike Ilya, was an active, mobile child in childhood; loved to study and work. Stolz does not like to dream; he achieves his goals with amazing practicality. However, he appreciates the opposite friend in everything.

Chapters 3-4

Oblomov shares the contents of the elder's letter with Stolz, who proposes to open a school in Oblomovka, but the owner of the estate does not agree with him. Ilya Ilyich also complains about the need to move; Andrey does not see anything catastrophic in this and is amazed at the laziness of his friend. Stolz forbids Zakhar from letting Tarantiev into the apartment, who has a habit of borrowing Oblomov's things and money and not returning them. After that, also at the insistence of Andrey, friends travel to various societies. Ilya Ilyich is dissatisfied: he is tired of crowds of people, noise and the need to walk for a long time in boots. He accidentally tells a friend that the ideal of life for him is Oblomovka. When asked by Stolz about why he should not move there, the main character has many excuses. Andrei considers life on a friend's estate not real life, but "Oblomovism", and says that it is necessary to work, first visit abroad, and then go to the estate.

Chapters 5-9

Conversations with a friend had an effect on Oblomov; he decided to take action, collected everything necessary for a trip to France. But he failed to leave: one evening, Stolz introduced him to Olga Sergeevna Ilyinskaya, and the main character fell in love with a girl; he even bought the dacha across from her aunt's house. Ilya Ilyich really enjoyed listening to Olga sing; during one song he forgot himself and cried out that he felt love. After that, he became embarrassed and ran out of the room. Then Oblomov told the girl that it was a passion for music, and she replied that she had forgiven him. Meanwhile, Zakhar married Anisya, an active woman, thanks to whom the orders established in Oblomov's house began to change.

Ilya Ilyich is invited to dinner with Aunt Olga, and he begins to fear that the girl is only flirting with him. He spends the whole day with her aunt, who was an authority for her niece. Olga comes in the evening; she keeps a low profile. Oblomov asks her to sing, but does not hear in his head the feeling that was before. At home, he is tormented by doubts about the behavior of the girl; at this time, through Zakhar, she makes an appointment with Oblomov. In the park, he talks to Olga about the uselessness of his existence, and then about their feelings; the girl gives him her hand, and the happy Ilya Ilyich happily thinks throughout the walk: “This is all mine!”. After that, Oblomov becomes more active and constantly thinks about Olga, whose life is also filled with special meaning thanks to his love. Once the main character asks the girl why she does not tell him about her love, she replies that she loves him in a special way, when it is a pity to part for a while, but for a long time it hurts.

Chapters 10-12

The next day, Oblomov reflects on Olga's attitude towards him; he does not like the passivity of her love. Ilya Ilyich writes a letter in which he speaks of the untruth of their feelings, that he is not the person Olga needs, and the words of love she said are not true. He passes the letter to the girl through the maid and watches Olga reading the letter in the park. Seeing her tears, Ilya Ilyich catches up with the girl; she reproaches him with selfishness, that he does not love her and is not capable of a real feeling. He asks for forgiveness, says that he made a mistake by writing a letter. Soon Olga forgives him, saying that she saw love and tenderness in the letter.

Part 3

Chapters 1-3

Spending all his days with his beloved, Oblomov does not think at all about solving the problems of his estate; Stolz in letters reminds him of them, but the main character is not up to it. He does not like that he and Olga see each other in secret, and they think that they should soon announce their relationship. However, the girl believes that before that it is necessary to resolve the situation in Oblomovka and build a house there. Oblomov goes to the apartment of godfather Tarantiev, where he sees things piled up in a heap and meets the hostess - Agafya Matveevna. Her brother says that you need to pay 800 rubles for the time when things were in the room; Ilya Ilyich has only 300 rubles, and he does not understand where the rest of the money was spent. Soon he moves into this apartment; Agafya Matveevna makes sure that he lives well. Oblomov finally sends a letter to the elder; his dates with Olga continue.

Chapters 4-7

Once Zakhar asks the master when they will play a wedding; it turns out that all the servants gossip about the relationship of Ilya Ilyich. He replies that it requires too much trouble. Olga makes an appointment with Oblomov and meets him wearing a veil. A man does not like the fact that she has to deceive relatives; the girl says that you can tell everything to your aunt the next day. But Ilya Ilyich wants first to get an answer from the headman, so the next day he does not come to Olga, saying he is sick. He stays in the apartment for a whole week; the girl comes to visit him and immediately sees that he deceived her. Olga invites him to go to Smolny with her and her aunt; Oblomov rejoices at the upcoming meeting.

Chapters 8-12

Soon he receives a letter; the neighbor writes that Oblomovka does not bring any profit at all, and in order to correct things, it is necessary that Ilya Ilyich himself come to the estate. Oblomov is upset, because because of this, the wedding will have to be postponed. The brother of Agafya Matveevna, who wants to get rich at the expense of the tenant, offers Ilya Ilyich a deal: instead of him, his acquaintance Zaterty will go to the estate. Oblomov tells Olga that now he does not need to go to the estate, but the marriage still needs to be postponed for a year. The girl, who had hoped to get married soon, faints. Having come to her senses, she reproaches Ilya Ilyich for being indecisive, and believes that nothing will change in a year. The lovers part. Oblomov wanders around the city late; when he comes home, he sits motionless for a long time, and in the morning he develops a fever.

Part 4

Chapters 1-3

A year passes. Ilya Ilyich lives in the same place and imperceptibly has warm feelings for Agafya Matveyevna, who has surrounded him with care. Zaterty sent Oblomov money received from the sale of bread, and the master is pleased that he did not have to go to the estate. On Midsummer Day, Stoltz comes, who reports that Olga, who has left for Paris with her aunt, cannot forget Oblomov. Andrei tries to take his friend with him, but he refuses, promising to come later. Agafya's brother, along with Tarantiev, who was at the same time with him, are worried that Stolz might find out their secret: they appropriated the quitrent collected from Oblomov's estate.

Chapter 4

Further, the novel describes the events that took place a year ago in Paris. There Stoltz met Olga, and the change in her character surprised the man. He began to see her often, to advise her of interesting books. Soon Andrei realized that he had fallen in love with a girl; Olga also felt sympathy for him. At the request of Stolz to tell about her unhappy love, the girl admitted that she had a relationship with Oblomov. Andrei called her to marry, and Olga agreed.

Chapters 5-8

A year and a half after Ivan's Day, Ilya Ilyich's life became even worse; all day long he is lazy, completely uninterested in anything. Agafya Matveevna's brother deals with his money, after whose marriage the profit from the estate completely ceased to flow. Worried about the tenant, Agafya pawns her pearls. Soon Oblomov is visited again by Stolz, who tells that he married Olga; friend congratulates him. Andrei invites Ilya Ilyich to go with him, but he asks for a delay for a month. Before leaving, Stolz tells his friend that his feelings for the hostess are very noticeable. After that, Andrey does not come to St. Petersburg for several months. One day he is talking to Olga about Oblomov; she wants to see Ilya Ilyich when she is in town.

Chapter 9

Stolz took up the affairs of Oblomovka, and the estate began to bring in a lot of income; the main character got money, and he bought Agafya Matveevna a lot of outfits. However, Ilya Ilyich continues to lie on the sofa for days, watching how the hostess does something in the house. Once Oblomov has a stroke; the doctor talks about the need to change his lifestyle, but he does not follow his recommendations and continues to lie and be lazy. Stolz arrives again, who invites a friend to visit. After the refusal, he says that Olga is waiting in the carriage; then Oblomov reports that he is married to Agafya Matveevna and they have a son Andrei, who was named after Stolz, and he has no desire to leave the apartment. Andrey leaves and tells Olga that "Oblomovism" reigns in the friend's house.

Chapters 10-11

Five years pass. Oblomov died of a stroke three years ago; Stolz took his son to be raised. Agafya misses the boy, but does not want to go to Andrey's estate. Once, on a walk, Stoltz sees Zakhar begging for alms; he calls the servant to him, but the man does not want to leave the grave of his master. An acquaintance of Stolz asks him who Oblomov is and why he disappeared, to which Andrei says - “The reason ... what a reason! Oblomovism!

PART ONE

In St. Petersburg, on Gorokhovaya Street, on the same morning as always, he lies in bed Ilya Ilyich Oblomov- a young man of about thirty-two, not burdening himself with special studies. His lying down is a certain way of life, a kind of protest against established conventions, which is why Ilya Ilyich so ardently, philosophically meaningfully objects to all attempts to lift him off the couch. His servant, Zakhar, is the same, showing neither surprise nor displeasure - he is used to living the same way as his master: how he lives ...

This morning to Oblomov visitors come one after another: on the first of May, all the Petersburg society gathers in Ekateringof, so friends try to shake Ilya Ilyich aside, stir him up, forcing him to take part in a secular festive festivities. But neither Volkov, nor Sudbinsky, nor Penkin succeed in this. With each of them, Oblomov tries to discuss his worries - a letter from the headman from Oblomovka and a threatening move to another apartment; but no one cares about Ilya Ilyich's anxieties.

But he is ready to deal with the problems of the lazy master Mikhey Andreevich Tarantiev, Oblomov's fellow countryman, "a man of smart and cunning mind." Knowing that after the death of his parents, Oblomov remained the only heir to three hundred and fifty souls, Tarantiev is not at all opposed to joining a very tasty morsel, especially since he quite rightly suspects that Oblomov's headman steals and lies much more than is required within reasonable limits. And Oblomov is waiting for his childhood friend, Andrei Stolz, who, in his opinion, is the only one who can help him figure out economic difficulties.

At first, having arrived in St. Petersburg, Oblomov somehow tried to integrate into the life of the capital, but gradually realized the futility of his efforts: neither he needed anyone, nor was anyone close to him. And so Ilya Ilyich lay down on his sofa ... And so the unusually devoted servant Zakhar, who did not lag behind his master in anything, lay down on his couch. He intuitively feels who can really help his master, and who, like Mikhei Andreevich, only pretends to be a friend to Oblomov. But only a dream can save from a detailed showdown with mutual grievances, in which the master plunges, while Zakhar goes to gossip and take his soul away from the neighboring servants.

Oblomov sees in a sweet dream his past, long gone life in his native Oblomovka, where there is nothing wild, grandiose, where everything breathes calm and serene sleep. Here they only eat, sleep, discuss news that come to this region with a great delay; life flows smoothly, flowing from autumn to winter, from spring to summer, to complete its eternal circles again. Here, fairy tales are almost indistinguishable from real life, and dreams are a continuation of reality. Everything is peaceful, quiet, calm in this blessed land - no passions, no worries disturb the inhabitants of sleepy Oblomovka, among whom Ilya Ilyich spent his childhood. This dream could last, it seems, for an eternity, had it not been interrupted by the appearance of Oblomov's long-awaited friend, Andrei Ivanovich Stolz, whose arrival Zakhar happily announces to his master ...

PART TWO

Andrei Stoltz grew up in the village of Verkhlev, which was once part of Oblomovka; here now his father serves as a steward. Stolz developed into a personality, in many ways unusual, thanks to a double upbringing received from a strong-willed, strong, cold-blooded German father and a Russian mother, a sensitive woman who forgot herself from life's storms at the piano. The same age as Oblomov, he is the complete opposite of his friend: "he is constantly on the move: if society needs to send an agent to Belgium or England - they send him; you need to write some project or adapt a new idea to the case - they choose him. Meanwhile, he travels to light, and reads; when he has time - God knows.

The first thing Stolz starts with is pulling Oblomov out of bed and taking him to visit different houses. Thus begins the new life of Ilya Ilyich.

Stolz as if pouring into Oblomov part of his seething energy, now Oblomov gets up in the morning and begins to write, read, take an interest in what is happening around, and acquaintances cannot be surprised: "Imagine Oblomov has moved!" But Oblomov did not just move - his whole soul was shaken to the ground: Ilya Ilyich fell in love. Stolz brought him into the house of the Ilyinskys, and a man wakes up in Oblomov, endowed by nature with unusually strong feelings - listening to Olga sing, Ilya Ilyich is truly shocked, he finally woke up completely. But for Olga and Stolz, who planned a kind of experiment on the eternally dormant Ilya Ilyich, this is not enough - it is necessary to awaken him to rational activity.

In the meantime, Zakhar also found his happiness - having married Anisya, a simple and kind woman, he suddenly realized that he should fight with dust, dirt, and cockroaches, and not put up with it. In a short time, Anisya puts Ilya Ilyich's house in order, extending her power not only to the kitchen, as was supposed at first, but throughout the house.

But this general awakening did not last long: the very first obstacle, moving from the dacha to the city, gradually turned into that swamp that slowly but steadily sucks in Ilya Ilyich Oblomov, who is not adapted to decision-making, to initiative. A long life in a dream cannot end immediately ...

Olga, feeling her power over Oblomov, cannot understand too much in him.

PART THREE

Yielding to the intrigues of Tarantiev at the moment when Stolz again left St. Petersburg, Oblomov moved to the apartment rented to him by Mikhei Andreevich, on the Vyborg side.

Unable to deal with life, unable to deal with debts, unable to manage the estate and expose the crooks surrounding him, Oblomov ends up in the house of Agafya Matveevna Pshenitsyna, whose brother, Ivan Matveevich Mukhoyarov, is friends with Mikhei Andreevich, not inferior to him, but rather surpassing the latter by cunning and cunning. In the house of Agafya Matveevna in front of Oblomov, imperceptibly at first, and then more and more clearly, the atmosphere of his native Oblomovka unfolds, something that Ilya Ilyich cherishes most of all in his soul.

Gradually, the entire economy of Oblomov passes into the hands of Pshenitsyna. A simple, unsophisticated woman, she begins to manage Oblomov's house, preparing delicious meals for him, establishing a life, and again the soul of Ilya Ilyich plunges into a sweet dream. Although occasionally the peace and serenity of this dream is exploded by meetings with Olga Ilyinskaya, who is gradually disappointed in her chosen one. Rumors about the wedding of Oblomov and Olga Ilyinskaya are already scurrying between the servants of two houses - having learned about this, Ilya Ilyich is horrified: nothing else, in his opinion, has been decided, and people are already moving from house to house talking about what, most likely , it won't happen. "That's all Andrei: he instilled love, like smallpox, in both of us. And what kind of life is this, all the worries and anxieties! When will there be peaceful happiness, peace?" - Oblomov thinks, realizing that everything that happens to him is nothing more than the last convulsions of a living soul, ready for the final, already uninterrupted sleep.

Days flow after days, and now Olga, unable to stand it, herself comes to Ilya Ilyich on the Vyborg side. He comes to make sure: nothing will awaken Oblomov from a slow immersion in the final sleep. Meanwhile, Ivan Matveyevich Mukhoyarov takes over the affairs of Oblomov on the estate, so thoroughly and deeply entangling Ilya Ilyich in his clever machinations that the owner of the blessed Oblomovka is unlikely to be able to get out of them. And at that moment, Agafya Matveevna was also repairing Oblomov's dressing gown, which, it seemed, could no longer be repaired by anyone. This becomes the last straw in the throes of Ilya Ilyich's resistance - he falls ill with a fever.

PART FOUR

A year after Oblomov’s illness, life flowed along its measured course: the seasons changed, Agafya Matveevna prepared delicious meals for the holidays, baked pies for Oblomov, brewed coffee for him with her own hands, celebrated Ilyin’s Day with enthusiasm ... And suddenly Agafya Matveevna realized that she fell in love master. She became so devoted to him that at the moment when Andrey Stoltz, who came to St. Petersburg on the Vyborg side, exposes the dark deeds of Mukhoyarov, Pshenitsyna renounces her brother, whom she so revered and even feared until recently.

Having experienced disappointment in her first love, Olga Ilyinskaya gradually gets used to Stolz, realizing that her attitude towards him is much more than just friendship. And Olga agrees to Stolz's proposal ...

A few years later, Stolz reappears on the Vyborg side. He finds Ilya Ilyich, who has become "a complete and natural reflection and expression [...] of peace, contentment and serene silence. Looking, pondering his life and more and more settling in it, he finally decided that he had nowhere else go, there is nothing to look for ... ". Oblomov found his quiet happiness with Agafya Matveevna, who gave birth to his son Andryusha. The arrival of Stolz does not disturb Oblomov: he only asks his old friend not to leave Andryusha...

And five years later, when Oblomov was no more, the house of Agafya Matveevna fell into disrepair, and the wife of the ruined Mukhoyarov, Irina Panteleevna, began to play the first role in it. Andryusha was begged for upbringing by Stoltsy. Living in the memory of the late Oblomov, Agafya Matveevna concentrated all her feelings on her son: "she realized that she had lost and shone her life, that God had put her soul into her life and took it out again; that the sun shone in her and faded forever ..." And high memory forever connected her with Andrey and Olga Stolts - "the memory of the soul of the deceased, pure as crystal."

And the faithful Zakhar, in the same place, on the Vyborg side, where he lived with his master, now asks for alms ...

In Gorokhovaya Street, in one of the large houses, the population of which would have been the size of an entire county town, Ilya Ilyich Oblomov was lying in bed in his apartment in the morning.

He was a man of about thirty-two or three years of age, of medium height, of pleasant appearance, with dark gray eyes, but with no definite idea, no concentration in his features. The thought walked like a free bird across the face, fluttered in the eyes, settled on half-open lips, hid in the folds of the forehead, then completely disappeared, and then an even light of carelessness glimmered in the whole face. From the face, carelessness passed into the poses of the whole body, even into the folds of the dressing gown.

Sometimes his eyes were darkened by an expression as if of weariness or boredom; but neither fatigue nor boredom could for a moment drive away from the face the gentleness that was the dominant and basic expression, not only of the face, but of the whole soul; and the soul shone so openly and clearly in the eyes, in the smile, in every movement of the head and hand. And a superficially observant, cold person, glancing casually at Oblomov, would say: “There must be a kind man, simplicity!” A deeper and more sympathetic person, peering into his face for a long time, would walk away in pleasant thought, with a smile.

Ilya Ilyich's complexion was neither ruddy, nor swarthy, nor positively pale, but indifferent or seemed so, perhaps because Oblomov was somehow flabby beyond his years: from a lack of movement or air, or maybe that and another. In general, his body, judging by the matte, too white color of the neck, small plump hands, soft shoulders, seemed too pampered for a man.

His movements, when he was even alarmed, were also restrained by softness and laziness, not devoid of a kind of grace. If a cloud of care came over the face from the soul, the look became foggy, wrinkles appeared on the forehead, a game of doubt, sadness, fright began; but seldom did this anxiety solidify in the form of a definite idea, still more rarely did it turn into an intention. All anxiety was resolved with a sigh and faded into apathy or drowsiness.

How Oblomov's home costume went to his dead features and to his pampered body! He was wearing a dressing gown made of Persian fabric, a real oriental dressing gown, without the slightest hint of Europe, without tassels, without velvet, without a waist, very roomy, so that Oblomov could wrap himself in it twice. The sleeves, in the same Asian fashion, went from fingers to shoulder wider and wider. Although this dressing gown had lost its original freshness and in some places replaced its primitive, natural gloss with another, acquired, it still retained the brightness of oriental color and the strength of the fabric.

The dressing gown had in the eyes of Oblomov a darkness of invaluable virtues: it is soft, flexible; the body does not feel it on itself; he, like an obedient slave, submits to the slightest movement of the body.

Oblomov always went home without a tie and without a vest, because he loved space and freedom. His shoes were long, soft and wide; when, without looking, he lowered his legs from the bed to the floor, he would certainly hit them at once.

Lying down with Ilya Ilyich was neither a necessity, like a sick person or a person who wants to sleep, nor an accident, like someone who is tired, nor a pleasure, like a lazy person: this was his normal state. When he was at home - and he was almost always at home - he was always lying, and everyone was constantly in the same room where we found him, which served him as a bedroom, study and reception room. He had three more rooms, but he rarely looked in there, unless in the morning, and then not every day when a person swept his office, which was not done every day. In three rooms the furniture was covered with covers, the curtains were lowered.

The room where Ilya Ilyich lay seemed at first glance to be beautifully furnished. There was a bureau of mahogany, two sofas upholstered in silk, beautiful screens embroidered with birds and fruits unknown in nature. There were silk curtains, carpets, a few paintings, bronzes, porcelain, and many beautiful little things.

But the experienced eye of a man of pure taste, with one cursory glance at everything that was there, would read only a desire to somehow maintain the decorum of inevitable decorum, if only to get rid of them. Oblomov, of course, only bothered about this when he cleaned his office. Refined taste would not be satisfied with these heavy, ungraceful mahogany chairs, wobbly bookcases. The back of one sofa sank down, the pasted wood lagged behind in places.

Exactly the same character was worn by paintings, and vases, and trifles.

The owner himself, however, looked at the decoration of his office so coldly and absent-mindedly, as if asking with his eyes: “Who dragged and instructed all this here?” From such a cold view of Oblomov on his property, and perhaps even from a colder view of the same object of his servant, Zakhar, the appearance of the office, if you look there more and more closely, struck by the neglect and negligence that prevailed in it.

On the walls, near the paintings, cobwebs saturated with dust were molded in the form of festoons; mirrors, instead of reflecting objects, could rather serve as tablets, for writing on them, through the dust, some notes for memory. Carpets were stained. There was a forgotten towel on the sofa; on the table, a rare morning, there was not a plate with a salt shaker and a gnawed bone that had not been removed from yesterday's dinner, and there were no bread crumbs lying around.

If not for this plate, and not for a pipe just smoked leaning against the bed, or not for the owner himself lying on it, then one would think that no one lives here - everything was so dusty, faded and generally devoid of living traces of human presence. On the bookcases, it is true, there were two or three open books, a newspaper was lying about, and an inkstand with feathers stood on the bureau; but the pages on which the books were unfolded were covered with dust and turned yellow; it is clear that they were abandoned long ago; the number of the newspaper was last year's, and if you dipped a pen in it, only a frightened fly would have escaped with a buzz.

Ilya Ilyich woke up, contrary to his usual habit, very early, at eight o'clock. He is very concerned about something. On his face alternately appeared not the fear, not the melancholy and annoyance. It was evident that he was overcome by an internal struggle, and the mind had not yet come to the rescue.

The fact is that on the eve of Oblomov received from the village, from his headman, a letter of unpleasant content. It is known what troubles the headman can write about: crop failure, arrears, a decrease in income, etc. Although the headman wrote exactly the same letters to his master both in the past and in the third year, this last letter also had an effect as strong as any an unpleasant surprise.

Is it easy? I had to think about the means to take some action. However, we must do justice to the care of Ilya Ilyich about his affairs. According to the first unpleasant letter from the headman, received several years ago, he already began to create in his mind a plan for various changes and improvements in the management of his estate.

According to this plan, it was supposed to introduce various new economic, police and other measures. But the plan was far from being fully thought out, and the headman's unpleasant letters were repeated every year, prompting him to activity and, consequently, disturbing the peace. Oblomov was aware of the need to do something decisive before the end of the plan.

As soon as he woke up, he immediately set out to get up, wash himself and, after drinking tea, think carefully, figure something out, write it down and generally do this business properly.

For half an hour he lay still, tormented by this intention, but then he decided that he would still have time to do this even after tea, and tea can be drunk, as usual, in bed, especially since nothing prevents you from thinking while lying down.

And so he did. After tea, he had already risen from his bed and almost got up; glancing at the shoes, he even began to lower one foot from the bed towards them, but immediately picked it up again.

It struck half past ten, Ilya Ilyich started up.

- What am I really? - he said aloud with annoyance, - you need to know your conscience: it's time to get down to business! Just let yourself go and...

Oblomov beamed as he walked home. His blood boiled, his eyes sparkled. He felt like his hair was on fire. So he entered his room - and suddenly the radiance disappeared and his eyes, in unpleasant amazement, stopped motionless in one place: Tarantyev was sitting in his chair.

Tarantiev began to ask Oblomov why he had never visited his new apartment until now, reminded him of the contract signed for a whole year and demanded eight hundred rubles - six months in advance. Oblomov, on the other hand, announced that he was not going to settle on the Vyborg side, nor pay, and hurried to send Tarantiev out.

When Tarantiev left, Oblomov thought, and felt that "the bright, cloudless holiday of love had departed, that love was becoming a duty ... and began to shed, lose its iridescent colors." “The poem will pass, and a strict story will begin: a chamber, then a trip to Oblomovka, building a house, hearings in court.” And he decided to go to Olga and tell her aunt about the engagement. But Olga demanded that he not say a word to anyone until he certified a power of attorney to manage the estate in the chamber, so that Oblomov’s village neighbor could deal with his economic affairs, built a house, found an apartment, wrote to Stolz ...

“What is this? Oblomov thought sadly. - Not a long whisper, not a mysterious agreement to merge both lives into one! Everything is somehow different, different. What a strange Olga! She does not stop at one place, does not think sweetly over a poetic moment, as if she had no dream at all, no need to drown in thought! Now go to the ward, to the apartment - just Andrei! What is it they all seem to have agreed to hurry to live!

The next day, he reluctantly went to the ward, but before that he decided to call on a friend to ask how best to formalize the case. The conversation dragged on until three o'clock, it was already too late to go to the ward, and tomorrow was Saturday, and the case had to be postponed until Monday.

Oblomov went to the Vyborg side, to the house of the widow of the collegiate secretary Pshenitsyna, godfather Tarantiev.

She was thirty years old. She was very white and full in the face, so that the blush could not seem to break through her cheeks. She had almost no eyebrows at all, and in their place were two slightly swollen, shiny stripes, with sparse blond hair. The eyes are greyish-ingenuous, as is the whole expression of the face; the arms are white, but stiff, with large knots of blue veins protruding.

The dress sat tight on her: it is clear that she did not resort to any art, not even to an extra skirt, to increase the volume of the hips and reduce the waist.

Because of this, even her closed bust, when she was without a scarf, could serve as a model for a painter or sculptor of a strong, healthy chest, without violating her modesty. Her dress, in relation to the elegant shawl and dress cap, seemed old and worn ...

She entered timidly and stopped, looking shyly at Oblomov.

He got up and bowed.

Do I have the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Pshenitsyna? - he asked.

Yes, sir, she replied. - Do you need to talk to your brother? she asked hesitantly. - They are in office, they do not come before five o'clock.

No, I wanted to see you, - began Oblomov ...

“She has a simple but pleasant face,” Oblomov condescendingly decided, “she must be a kind woman!”

Oblomov told Pshenitsyna that he was going to look for an apartment in another part of the city, and was not going to live with her. She listened to him and said that all matters are decided by her brother, who serves in the office and who is not now. Oblomov learned from Pshenitsyna that she lived alone, with two children from her late husband and a sick grandmother. Mikhey Andreevich Tarantiev often comes by, sometimes he stays for a month. The hostess rarely leaves the house, rarely visits, she is increasingly engaged in housekeeping, selling hens and chickens. Oblomov did not wait for the arrival of his brother and asked to be told that he did not need the apartment and he asked to transfer it to another tenant, while he himself would also look for a tenant. Oblomov said goodbye and hurried home. On the way, he thought that he needed to see another apartment, but for this he had to go back, and he decided to postpone this business until the next time.

August was coming to an end, it started to rain, the dachas were empty. Oblomov rarely went to the city, one day the Ilyinskys also left the dacha. He decided to live on the Vyborg side until he finds an apartment. Evenings he spent with Olga, but these were no longer summer evenings in the park and grove, he could no longer see Olga so often, and “this whole summer flowering poem of love seemed to stop, went lazier, as if there was not enough content in it” . They talked less, more often they were silent. Oblomov promised Olga to soon move to a new apartment and settle there, like at home. He increasingly felt uncomfortable, especially when he and Olga came across acquaintances. He insisted on telling his aunt about their relationship, but Olga was adamant. But things didn't move. In order not to give rise to conversations, they made appointments in the theater, in the Summer Garden.

The next day, Oblomov got up and put on his wild frock coat that he wore in the country. He said goodbye to the dressing gown a long time ago and ordered to hide it in the closet.

Zakhar, as usual, waving his tray, awkwardly approached the table with coffee and pretzels...

What a glorious coffee! Who cooks it? - asked Oblomov.

The hostess herself, - said Zakhar, - the sixth day she is everything. “You, he says, put a lot of chicory and don’t finish it. Give me!”

Glorious, ”Oblomov repeated, pouring another cup. - Thank her...

At noon, Zakhar came to ask if you would like to try their pie: the hostess ordered to offer.

Today is Sunday, they bake a pie!

Well, I think the pie is good! Oblomov said casually. - With onions and carrots ...

The pie is not worse than our Oblomov ones, - Zakhar noticed, - with chickens and fresh mushrooms.

Oh, it should be good: bring it! Who bakes for them? Is that a dirty woman?

Where is she! Zakhar said with contempt. - If it weren't for the hostess, she wouldn't even know how to put dough. The hostess herself is in the kitchen. They baked a pie together with Anisya.

Five minutes later, a bare hand stuck out to Oblomov from a side room, barely covered by the shawl he had already seen, with a plate on which a huge piece of cake smoked, emitting hot steam.

I humbly thank you, ”Oblomov responded affectionately, accepting the pie, and, looking through the door, rested his eyes on the high chest and bare shoulders. The door closed hastily.

I do not drink; I humbly thank you, ”Oblomov said even more affectionately. - What is yours?

Our own, homemade: we ourselves insist on a currant leaf, - the voice said.

I've never brewed on a currant leaf, let me try!

A bare hand stuck out again with a plate and a glass of vodka. Oblomov drank: he liked it very much.

I am very grateful,” he said, trying to look in the door, but the door slammed shut...

The hostess's brother, Ivan Matveyevich, was a man of about forty, "with a straight crest on his forehead and two similar crests carelessly thrown into the wind at his temples," he seemed ashamed of his hands and when he spoke, he tried to hide them behind his back or in his bosom. From a conversation with him, it turned out that Ilya Ilyich, without reading it, signed the contract slipped to him by Tarantiev, which provided for a substantial penalty in case Oblomov wanted to leave the apartment ahead of schedule. Ilya Ilyich promised to find another tenant, but, having counted the money he had left, he was stunned. He began to remember where he spent them, but, not remembering anything, he decided to go to Olga for dinner.

Oblomov told Olga that he had spoken to the landlady's brother and that he would try to transfer the apartment this week. When she left with her aunt for a visit before dinner, he went to see the apartments that were rented nearby. The amounts that were asked for them seemed huge to Oblomov. Adding to them the money that he had to give to the widow Pshenitsyna, he got scared and ran to Olga.

There was society. Olga was animated, spoke, sang and made a splash.

Only Oblomov listened absent-mindedly, and she spoke and sang for him, so that he would not sit hanging his nose, lowering his eyelids, so that everything would speak and sing incessantly in himself.

Come to the theater tomorrow, we have a box, - she said.

“In the evening, through the mud, such a distance!” - thought Oblomov, but, looking into her eyes, answered her smile with a smile of consent.

Subscribe to the chair, - she added, - the Mayevskys will arrive that week; ma tante invited them to our box.

And she looked into his eyes to know how delighted he would be.

"God! he thought in horror. “And I have only three hundred rubles of money.”

Here, ask the baron; he knows everyone there, tomorrow he will send for chairs.

And she smiled again, and he smiled looking at her, and with a smile asked for the baron; he, also with a smile, undertook to send for a ticket.

Now in an armchair, and later, when you finish your business, - Olga added, - you will rightfully take your rightful place in our box.

And finally she smiled, as she smiled when she was completely happy.

Wow, what happiness suddenly smelled of him when Olga slightly lifted the veil of seductive distance, covered, like flowers, with smiles!

In the company of Olga Oblomov forgot about money, and remembered them only when he saw Ivan Matveyevich. The cases with the power of attorney dragged on, the search for a new apartment was postponed, Oblomov calmed down and continued to live on the Vyborg side. “It would be possible to live here, too,” he thought, “but far from everything, but in their house the order is strict and the household is doing nicely.” In the morning, "the coffee is still the same nice, the cream is thick, the rolls are rich, crumbly." After breakfast, Oblomov smoked cigars and listened to the mother hen cackle, chickens squeal, canaries and siskins chirp, and all this reminded him of his native Oblomovka. Sitting on the sofa, he read books, sometimes the hostess's daughter, Masha, came to him.

The hostess herself was busy with work all the time: she was cooking, ironing, pushing. Oblomov sometimes dropped in with a book to talk to the hostess. In good weather, he put on his cap, went around the neighborhood and returned home, where "the table was already laid, and the food was so tasty, served cleanly." “Quiet, good in this side, only boring!” - he said, leaving for the opera. Once, returning to the Vyborg side from the theater, he could not get through for a long time, he was very cold and angry. And the next day he announced that he would soon move out of here. But days passed, and he did not move out.

He was bored without Olga, her singing, and when she was near, he looked into her eyes and listened to her singing. But as time went on towards winter, their dates became less and less frequent. The Ilyinskys often had many guests, and they rarely managed to be alone, all that remained was to exchange tired glances. Arriving home, he lay down on the sofa, but did not sleep, but dreamed of Olga, painted in his imagination pictures of a peaceful family life, "where Olga will shine and everything will shine around her."

Once, when Ilya Ilyich was lying on the sofa, Zakhar came in and asked if the master had found an apartment and when the wedding would be.

What wedding? - suddenly standing up, asked Oblomov.

It is known what: yours! - answered Zakhar positively, as if about a matter decided a long time ago. - Are you getting married?

I am getting married! On whom? - Oblomov asked with horror, devouring Zakhar with astonished eyes.

On Ilyinskaya profit ... - Zakhar did not finish yet, and Oblomov was almost on his nose ...

Csss! .. - Oblomov hissed at him, raising his finger up and threatening Zakhar. - Not another word!

Did I make it up? Zakhar said.

Not a word! Oblomov repeated, looking menacingly at him, and showed him the door...

The “poetic moment”, about which Oblomov thought so often, suddenly lost all charm for him. What the courtyards knew about his relationship with Olga horrified him. An hour later, he called Zakhar to convince him that he was not going to get married. Having asked Zakhar where the rumors about him and Mrs. Ilyinskaya came from, he began to explain to him what a wedding is: a person ceases to be called by his own name, but is called “groom”; every day you need to go to the bride and look cheerful - do not eat, do not drink, but like this, “live with the wind and bouquets”; running around, fuss, money expenses ... But there is no money at home either ... Ordering Zakhar to stop spreading ridiculous rumors, he ordered Anisya to be called, continued questioning, and learned from her that the Ilyinskys were poor, they even pawned silver this week.

Happiness, happiness! he said bitterly afterwards. - How fragile you are, how unreliable! Bedspread, wreath, love, love! Where is the money? what to live? And you have to be bought, love, a pure, legitimate good.

From that moment on, dreams and calm left Oblomov. He slept badly, ate little, and stared absent-mindedly and gloomily at everything.

He wanted to frighten Zakhar and was frightened himself more than he was when he delved into the practical side of the question of the wedding and saw that this, of course, was a poetic, but at the same time practical, official step towards an essential and serious reality and a number of strict duties ...

He remembered everything, and then the thrill of happiness, Olga's hand, her passionate kiss ... and froze: "Fade, gone!" echoed inside him.

What now?..

Oblomov decided to postpone a meeting with Olga. He did not want to tell her about the conversations that went around them, but he could not pretend either: she unmistakably determined all his innermost moods and desires. He calmed down and wrote a second letter to the village neighbor, his attorney, asking him to hurry with the answer. A day later, a letter arrived from Olga, in which she wrote that she was waiting for him tomorrow in the Summer Garden. “Anxiety arose again from the bottom of his soul, again he began to thrash about with anxiety,” not knowing how to talk to Olga and what to say to her. Then he reassured himself that Olga would come not alone, but with an aunt or a friend, and prepared to be talkative and amiable.

As soon as he entered a long alley, he saw a woman under a veil get up from one bench and go towards him...

How are you here, how? he asked, confused.

Leave; what's the deal, what's the question? It's boring! I wanted to see you and came - that's all! ..

At that moment her face breathed such childlike trust in fate, fortunately in him... She was very sweet.

Oh, how glad I am! I am so glad! she repeated, smiling and looking at him.

I thought I wouldn't see you today. Yesterday I suddenly became so melancholy - I don’t know why, and I wrote. Are you happy?

She looked into his face.

Why are you so frowning today? Are you silent? Are you not happy? I thought you'd go crazy with joy, but he's definitely asleep. Wake up, sir, Olga is with you!

She, reproachfully, slightly pushed him away from her ...

Let's go to the Neva, let's ride in a boat...

What you? God be with you! Such a cold, and I'm only in a padded overcoat ...

I am also in a quilted dress. What a need. Let's go, let's go.

She ran, dragged him too. He balked and grumbled. However, I had to get on a boat and go ...

Listen, Olga,” he finally spoke solemnly, “under the fear of arousing annoyance in you, incurring reproaches, I must, however, resolutely say that we have gone too far. My duty, my duty to tell you this.

What to say? she asked impatiently.

What we do is very bad, that we see each other secretly.

You said that back at the dacha, she said thoughtfully.

Yes, but then I was fond of: with one hand I pushed away, and with the other I held. You were gullible, and I... as if... deceived you. Then there was a new feeling...

But we are the bride and groom! she objected.

Yes, yes, dear Olga,” he said, shaking both her hands, “and the stricter we must be, the more circumspect at every step. I want to proudly lead you arm in arm along this very avenue, publicly, and not secretly, so that the eyes bow before you with respect, and not rush at you boldly and slyly, so that the suspicion that you, proud girl, could headlong, forgetting shame and upbringing, get carried away and violate duty ...

It's true, she said, startled. "Listen," she added resolutely, "let's all say ma tante, and let her bless us tomorrow...

Oblomov turned pale.

What you? she asked.

Wait a minute, Olga: why be in such a hurry? .. - he hastily added ...

His lips trembled.

Saying goodbye, Olga invited Oblomov to come tomorrow for dinner. But he promised to come the day after tomorrow, Friday or Saturday, saying that he was waiting for a letter from the village.

Returning home, Oblomov fell into a deep sleep. Remembering the next day that he needed to go to Olga, he shuddered. He imagined how people would look at him, see him off with friendly glances .., but he had no money and even a house in the village. And he decided not to see Olga until he had good news from the village. He did not shave, did not dress, lazily leafing through newspapers, and worked with the master's children. Agafya Matveevna was still busy with the housework, preparing delicious dinners, darning his stockings, and taking out his dressing gown from the closet to wash and mend it. A few days later he received a letter from Olga, in which she asked why he was not coming, wrote that she had cried all evening and did not sleep all night. "God! Why does she love me? Why do I love her? Why did we meet? This is all Andrei: he instilled love, like smallpox, in both of us. And what kind of life is this, all the worries and anxieties! .. ”Oblomov exclaimed. He wrote to Olga that he had caught a cold in the Summer Garden, he had to stay at home for two days, but he had almost recovered and hoped to return soon. She wrote back to him, praising him for his caution and advising him to be careful. He was delighted at Olga's suggestion to take care of himself and stayed at home for a few more days, drinking coffee and eating hot pies.

Soon there was another legitimate excuse not to go to Olga: the Neva was freezing, the footbridges were removed. So the days passed, Ilya Ilyich was bored, read the books sent from Olga, walked along the street, dropped in on visits to the hostess.

A week has passed. Every day, Oblomov wondered if bridges had been built across the Neva, and when he found out that they were not, he calmed down. He began to read books less often, but more often he studied with the children of the hostess and talked with her. One day, Zakhar reported that the bridges across the Neva had been built, and the thought that tomorrow he would have to go to Olga, endure the curious looks of others and explain himself to his aunt, Oblomov's heart skipped a beat. He again decided to postpone the trip, to wait a few more days for a letter from the village.

Olga all this time every morning asked the maid if the bridges were built, and when she found out that they were built, she began to eagerly prepare for the arrival of Oblomov, and asked her aunt to go with her tomorrow to the church, which Ilya Ilyich pointed out to her, to pray for him and for them Love. On Sunday, Olga arranged dinner the way Oblomov liked, combed her hair the way he liked, and put on a white dress. The baron, who took care of Olga's estate, informed her that the affairs were almost completed, and that next month she would be able to move to the village, to her estate. Olga was delighted, but decided not to tell Oblomov about this. She wanted to follow to the end, “how love will make a revolution in his lazy soul, how oppression will finally fall from him, how he will not resist close happiness, will receive a favorable answer from the village and, shining, come running, fly and lay him at her feet, how they both rush to the aunt in a race, and then ... she will suddenly tell him that she also has a village. But Oblomov did not come again. At first she was angry, but then she thought that he was ill and could not write, and decided to go to him herself.

On Monday morning the hostess informed Ilya Ilyich that a young lady had come to see him. He quickly dressed, sent Anisya and Zakhar away on business, rushed to the gate and "carried Olga to the porch almost in an embrace." Olga immediately realized that he was not sick, and asked him to answer why he had not come to them all this time. Oblomov replied that he was afraid of rumors and conversations.

She took a book from the table and looked at the unfolded page: the page was dusty.

You didn't read! - she said.

No, he answered.

She looked at the crumpled, embroidered pillows, at the mess, at the dusty windows, at the desk, sorted through several dusty papers, stirred the pen in the dry inkwell and looked at him in amazement.

What did you do? she repeated. - You didn't read or write?

There wasn’t much time,” he began stammering, “you get up in the morning, they clean the rooms, they interfere, then talk about dinner will begin, then the master’s children will come, asking the task to believe, and then dinner. After dinner... when to read?

You slept after dinner,” she said so positively that, after a moment’s hesitation, he answered quietly:

Why?

So as not to notice the time: you were not with me, Olga, and life is boring, unbearable without you.

He stopped, and she looked at him sternly.

Ilya! she spoke seriously. - Remember, in the park, when you said that your life was on fire, assured me that I was the goal of your life, your ideal, took my hand and said that it was yours - remember how I gave you consent?

Is it possible to forget it? Hasn't it turned my whole life upside down? Can't you see how happy I am?

No, I don't see; you deceived me,” she said coldly, “you are sinking again...

His eyes sparkled, as they used to in the park. Again pride and strength of will shone in them.

I am now ready to go where you tell me to do what you want. I feel alive when you look at me, talk, eat...

Olga listened to these outpourings of passion with strict thoughtfulness.

Listen, Ilya, she said, I believe in your love and my power over you. Why do you frighten me with your indecision, bring me to doubt? I am your goal, you say, and you walk towards it so timidly, slowly; and you still have a long way to go; you must be taller than me. I expect it from you! I have seen happy people, how they love,” she added with a sigh, “everything is in full swing with them, and their peace is not like yours; they do not lower their heads; their eyes are open; they barely sleep, they act! And you... no, it's not like love, that I'm your goal... She shook her head doubtfully.

You, you! .. - he said, kissing her hands again and worrying at her feet. - One you! My God, what happiness! - he repeated, as if in delirium. - And you think - it is possible to deceive you, to fall asleep after such an awakening, not to become a hero! You will see, you and Andrei,” he continued, looking around with inspired eyes, “to what a height the love of a woman like you raises a man! Look, look at me: am I not resurrected, am I living in this moment? Let's get out of here! Out! Out! I can't stay here for a minute; I'm stuffy, ugly! he said, looking around with unfeigned disgust. - Let me live today with this feeling ... Ah, if the same fire would burn me, which now burns - and tomorrow, and always! And then there is no you - I go out, I fall! Now I'm alive, resurrected. I think I... Olga, Olga! - You are the most beautiful thing in the world, you are the first woman, you ... you ...

He pressed his face against her hand and froze. Words no longer came from the tongue. He pressed his hand to his heart to calm his excitement, fixed his passionate, moist gaze on Olga, and became motionless.

"Tender, gentle, gentle!" - mentally repeated Olga, but with a sigh, not as it used to be in the park, and plunged into deep thought.

I have to go! Waking up, she said softly...

She gave him her hand and without trembling, calmly, in a proud consciousness of her innocence, she crossed the yard, with a desperate galloping on a chain and a dog barking, got into the carriage and drove off.

Heads looked out of the windows in the master's quarters; around the corner, behind the wattle fence, Anisya's head peeped out of the ditch...

When the creak of the carriage died down, Oblomov's anxiety passed, his eyes were moist with happiness, cheerfulness and warmth spread through his body. And again he wanted to act: to go to Stolz, to the village with Olga, to read a new book, to work in the office ... “What a full day! How easy it is to breathe in this life, in Olga's sphere, in the rays of her virginal brilliance ..., vigorous forces ... and a sound mind! He walks as if he flies; it looks like someone is carrying it around the room. He looked around, and everything in the room seemed disgusting to him. When the hostess looked into the room and invited him to look at the canvas that was brought to sell, he dryly thanked her and said that he was very busy. Then he delved into the memories of the summer and enjoyed, going over all the details in his mind. He was not himself: he sang, spoke affectionately with Anisya, joked, played with the mistress's daughter.

With the same mood, Oblomov spent the next day. They were with Olga at the opera, sang, then drank tea with Olga's aunt, had a sincere conversation, and Ilya Ilyich felt like a member of this pleasant family and decided to end his lonely life: now "he has light and warmth - how good it is to live with this !" That night he hardly slept, reading books sent by Olga.

The next day, Oblomov again spent with Olga, and when he returned home, he found a letter from the village on his desk. A neighbor, his attorney, wrote that he did not want to take over the management of the neglected estate of Ilya Ilyich, and strongly advised him to come to the village himself. Attached to the letter was a note detailing all the economic details. And again, everything "in the form of ghosts surrounded Oblomov." It was as if he had found himself in the forest at night, among these ghosts, and could not bring himself to look at them. He hoped that the letter would clearly state how much income he would receive, that the house was in good condition and could be lived in until a new one was built, that the attorney would send him money. In a word, everything will be as good, clear and simple as in a relationship with Olga. The thought that the wedding would again have to be postponed indefinitely plunged him into despondency. He groaned and was about to lie down, but immediately got up and decided to turn to the mistress's brother for help.

Ivan Matveyevich listened attentively to Oblomov, read a letter from the village, and also advised Oblomov to go to the estate himself. “I’m completely out of the habit of driving ... Moreover, it’s very boring in the village alone ...” - said Oblomov. After asking a few more questions regarding the state of affairs in Oblomovka, Ivan Matveyevich advised to entrust his colleague, Isai Fomich Zatertoy, a businesslike and knowledgeable person, to sort out everything, and to transfer the power of attorney to him. They stopped there: bring him here, give him money for life and business, and at the end of the case, give him a reward. Ivan Matveyevich promised to introduce Oblomov to his colleague at lunch tomorrow.

Oblomov was of a noble family, had the rank of collegiate secretary, and for twelve years he lived without a break in St. Petersburg. When his parents were alive, he occupied only two rooms. The servant Zakhar, taken out of the village, served him. After the death of his father and mother, he inherited three hundred and fifty souls in one of the remote provinces. “Then he was still young and, if it cannot be said that he was alive, then at least he is more alive than now; he was also full of various aspirations, he kept hoping for something, expecting a lot both from fate and from himself ... ”He thought a lot about his role in society and painted pictures of family happiness in his imagination.

But the years went by - "the fluff turned into a stiff beard, the rays of the eyes were replaced by two dull dots, the waist was rounded, the hair began to climb mercilessly." He was thirty years old, and he did not move a single step forward in his life - he was only going and preparing to start living. Life, in his understanding, was divided into two halves: one consisted of work and boredom, the other - of peace and peaceful fun.

"The service at first puzzled him in the most unpleasant way." Brought up in the provinces, among relatives, friends and acquaintances, he was "imbued with a family principle", the future service seemed to him some kind of family activity. Officials in one place, in his opinion, were a close-knit family, caring for mutual peace and pleasure. He thought that going to the service every day was not necessary, and such reasons as bad weather or a bad mood could be a good reason for being absent from the place. What was his surprise when he realized that a healthy official could not come to the service only if an earthquake or flood happened.

“Oblomov became even more thoughtful when packets with the inscription necessary And much needed, when he was forced to make various references, extracts, rummage through his affairs, write notebooks two fingers thick, which, as if in mockery, were called notes; moreover, everyone demanded soon, everyone was in a hurry somewhere, they did not stop at anything ... ”Even at night they would wake him up and force him to write notes. "When to live? When to live? he said. He imagined the boss as something like a second father, who always takes care of his subordinates and enters into their position. However, on the first day he had to be disappointed. With the arrival of the chief, everyone began to run, knocking each other down, and tried to show themselves as best as possible.

The first boss of Ilya Ilyich was a kind and pleasant person, he never shouted or spoke badly about anyone. All subordinates were pleased with him, but for some reason in his presence they were always shy and answered all his questions in a voice that was not their own. Ilya Ilyich also became shy in the presence of the chief, and spoke to him in a "thin and nasty" voice. It was not easy for him to serve under a good boss, and it is not known what would have happened to him if he had got to a strict boss.

Somehow, Oblomov served for two years, and if one unforeseen incident had not occurred, he would have served further. Once he accidentally sent some necessary paper instead of Astrakhan to Arkhangelsk, and was afraid that he would have to answer. Without waiting for punishment, he went home, sent a medical certificate of illness to the service, and then resigned.

“Thus ended - and then was not resumed - his state activity. The role in society was better for him. In the first years of his stay in St. Petersburg, when he was young, "his eyes shone for a long time with the fire of life, rays of light, hope, strength poured out of them." But that was a long time ago, when a person sees only good in any other person and falls in love with any woman, and anyone is ready to propose a hand and heart.

In previous years, Ilya Ilyich had a lot of “passionate looks”, “promising smiles”, handshakes and kisses, but he never surrendered to beauties and was never even their “diligent admirer”, because courtship is always accompanied by troubles. Oblomov preferred to worship from afar. Women with whom he could immediately fall in love rarely came across to him in society, he avoided too ardent virgins, so his love relationships never developed into novels, but stopped at the very beginning. “His soul was still pure and innocent; she may have been waiting for her love, her support, her passion, and then, over the years, it seems, she stopped waiting and despaired.

Ilya Ilyich's friends became less and less every year. After the headman sent the first letter about arrears in the village, he replaced his first friend, the cook, with a cook, then sold the horses and said goodbye to other friends. “Almost nothing drew him out of the house,” and every day he left the apartment less and less. At first, it was hard for him to walk around dressed all day, then he gradually became too lazy to dine at a party, and went only to close friends, who could get rid of tight clothes and get some sleep. Soon he got tired of putting on a tailcoat and shaving every day. And only his friend Stoltz managed to bring him to the people. But Stolz was often on the road, and, remaining alone, Oblomov "plunged head over heels into his solitude, from which only something extraordinary could lead him out," but this was not foreseen. In addition, over the years he became more timid and expected evil from everything he encountered at home, for example, from a crack in the ceiling. "He was not accustomed to movement, to life, to crowds, to fuss." Sometimes he fell into a state of nervous fear, was afraid of silence. To all the hopes that youth carried, and to all the bright memories, he lazily waved his hand.

“What did he do at home? Read? Did you write? Studied?"

If a book or a newspaper fell under his hands, he read. If he hears about some wonderful work, there will be a desire to get to know him. He will ask to bring it, and if it is brought quickly, he will begin to read. If he had made at least some effort, he would have mastered the subject discussed in the book. But he, having not finished reading the book, put it aside, lay down and looked at the ceiling.

He studied, like everyone else, until the age of fifteen in a boarding school. Then his parents sent him to Moscow, "where he, willy-nilly, followed the course of science to the end." During the years of study he did not show laziness and whims, he listened to what his teachers told him, and with difficulty learned the lessons he was given. “He considered all this as a punishment sent down by heaven for our sins.” More than what the teachers asked, he did not read and did not teach and did not require explanations. When Stoltz brought him books that needed to be read beyond what had been learned, Oblomov looked at his friend for a long time, but still read. "Serious reading tired him." At some point, he became interested in poetry, and Stoltz tried to extend this hobby longer. "The youthful gift of Stolz infected Oblomov, and he burned with a thirst for work, a distant but charming goal." However, soon Ilya Ilyich sobered up, and only occasionally, on the advice of Stolz, lazily ran through the lines. He hardly mastered the books that were brought to him and often fell asleep even in the most interesting places.

After graduating, he no longer wanted to learn anything. Everything that he learned during his studies was stored in his head in the form of an "archive of dead affairs." The doctrine had an effect on Ilya Ilyich in a strange way: "between science and life, he had a whole abyss that he did not try to cross." He went through the entire course of legal proceedings, but when something was stolen in his house and it was necessary to write some paper to the police, he sent for the clerk.

All affairs in the village, including money, were conducted by the headman. Oblomov himself "continued to draw the pattern of his own life." Thinking about the purpose of his existence, he came to the conclusion that the meaning of his life lies in himself, that he got "family happiness and care for the estate." Until that time, he did not know all his affairs, because Stoltz took care of them. Since the death of his parents, things on the estate have gone from bad to worse every year. Oblomov understood that he needed to go there and figure it out himself, but "the trip was a feat for him." In his life, Ilya Ilyich made only one trip: from his village to Moscow, “among featherbeds, chests, suitcases, hams, rolls ... and accompanied by several servants.” And now, lying on the sofa, he drew up in his mind "a new, fresh plan for organizing the estate and managing the peasants." The idea of ​​​​this plan has been formed for a long time, it only remained to calculate something.

As soon as he gets out of bed in the morning, after tea he immediately lies down on the sofa, rests his head on his hand and ponders, sparing no effort, until, finally, his head is tired from hard work and when his conscience says: enough done today for the common good.

Only then does he decide to take a break from his labors and change his caring pose to another, less businesslike and strict, more convenient for dreams and bliss.

Freed from business worries, Oblomov liked to withdraw into himself and live in the world he created.

The pleasures of lofty thoughts were available to him; he was no stranger to universal human sorrows. He bitterly in the depths of his soul wept at a different time over the misfortunes of mankind, experienced unknown, nameless suffering, and longing, and a desire to go somewhere far away, there, probably, to that world where Stolz used to take him.

Sweet tears run down his cheeks...

But towards evening, “Oblomov’s tired forces also tend to rest: storms and unrest subside in the soul, the head sobers up from thoughts, blood slowly makes its way through the veins ...” Ilya Ilyich thoughtfully rolled over onto his back, fixed a sad look at the sky and sadly followed the sun with his eyes . But the next day came, and with it new worries and dreams arose. He liked to imagine himself as an invincible commander, a great artist or thinker, to invent wars and their causes. In bitter moments, he turned from side to side, lay face down, sometimes knelt down and prayed fervently. And all his moral strength was spent on this.

No one knew or saw this inner life of Ilya Ilyich: everyone thought that Oblomov was so-so, only lying and eating on health, and that there was nothing more to be expected from him; that the thoughts in his head hardly fit in. This is how he was talked about wherever he was known.

Stoltz knew in detail about his abilities, about his inner volcanic work of his ardent head, humane heart, and Stoltz could testify, but Stolz was almost never in St. Petersburg.

Only Zakhar, who spent his whole life addressing his master, knew even more in detail all his inner life; but he was convinced that he and the master were doing business and living normally, as they should, and that one should not live otherwise.

Zakhar was over fifty years old. He devotedly served his master, and at the same time lied to him at every step, stole a little, liked to drink with friends, sometimes spread some unheard-of stories about the master, but sometimes, at gatherings at the gates, he suddenly began to elevate Ilya Ilyich, and “then it’s not there was an end to delight.

Zakhar is untidy. He rarely shaves, and although he washes his hands and face, he seems to be more pretending to be washing; and you can't wash it off with soap. When he is in the bathhouse, his black hands will only turn red for two hours, and then black again.

He is very clumsy: if he opens gates or doors, he opens one half, the other closes; runs to that one, this one closes.

He never immediately picks up a handkerchief or any other thing from the floor, but always bends down three times, as if catching it, and only on the fourth pick it up, and then sometimes he drops it again.

If he carries a pile of dishes or other things through the room, then from the very first step the upper things begin to desert to the floor. First one will fly; he suddenly makes a late and useless movement to prevent her from falling, and drops two more. He stares, gaping in surprise, at the falling things, and not at those that remain on his hands, and therefore holds the tray askew, and things continue to fall - and so sometimes he will bring one glass or plate to the other end of the room, and sometimes with abuse and curses, he himself will throw the last thing left in his hands.

Passing through the room, he will either kick or sideways on the table, or on the chair, not always hitting the open half of the door, but hitting the other with his shoulder, and at the same time scolding both halves, or the owner of the house, or the carpenter who made them.

In Oblomov's office, almost all things are broken or broken, especially small ones that require careful handling - and all by the grace of Zakhar.

He applies his ability to pick up a thing to all things in the same way, without making any difference in the way he handles this or that thing.

They order, for example, to remove it from a candle or pour it into a glass of water: he will use as much force as necessary to open the gate.

God forbid, when Zakhar is inflamed with zeal to please the master and takes it into his head to clean everything up, clean it up, set it up, quickly, put it in order at once! There was no end to troubles and losses: it is unlikely that an enemy soldier, bursting into a house, would cause so much harm. Breaking began, the fall of various things, the breaking of dishes, the overturning of chairs; it ended with him having to be thrown out of the room, or he himself left with abuse and curses.

Fortunately, he was very rarely inflamed by such zeal.

The reason for all these troubles was Zakhar's upbringing, which he received in the countryside, in the free air, and not in cramped offices. He is accustomed to serve without restricting his movements in any way, and handle solid things - a crowbar, a shovel, massive chairs.

Zakhar made up a certain circle of activity for himself, for which he did not cross at will. In the morning he put the samovar on and cleaned the dress that the master asked for, and never cleaned the one that he did not ask. Then he swept the room (and not every day), not getting to the corners, and dusted only from the table on which there was nothing. After that, he, unencumbered by worries, dozed on the couch or chatted with the servants at the gate. If it was necessary to do something beyond this, Zakhar always did it reluctantly, and nothing could be added to the duties that Zakhar himself had established for himself.

But, despite all his shortcomings, Zakhar was devoted to his master, and if necessary, without hesitation, he would burn or drown for him. He did not reflect on his feelings for the master, they came from the heart. Zakhar would have died instead of the master, considering it his duty. But if it were necessary to sit all night at the bedside of Ilya Ilyich, and the health or life of the master depended on this, Zakhar would definitely fall asleep.

Zakhar's feelings towards the master did not manifest themselves, he treated him rudely and familiarly, got angry with him for every little thing and slandered at the gate, but his feeling of devotion to Ilya Ilyich and everything that was connected with the Oblomovs did not weaken. "Zakhar loved Oblomovka like a cat loves his attic."

While serving in the village, in the manor house in Oblomovka, the naturally lazy Zakhar became even more lazy. Most of the time he napped in the hallway or chatted with the other servants. “And after such a life, a heavy burden was suddenly piled on him to bear the service of the whole house on his shoulders!” And not reconciled to this to the end, he became gloomy and cruel. "That made him grumble every time the master's voice made him leave the couch."

Despite, however, this outward gloominess and savagery, Zakhar had a rather soft and kind heart. He even loved spending time with the kids. In the yard, at the gate, he was often seen with a bunch of children. He reconciles them, teases them, arranges games, or simply sits with them, taking one on one knee, the other on the other, and some other naughty man will wrap his arms around his neck or pat him by the sideburns.

And so Oblomov prevented Zakhar from living by constantly demanding his services and presence near him, while his heart, communicative disposition, love for inaction and the eternal, never ceasing need to chew, attracted Zakhar now to the godfather, then to the kitchen, then to the shop, then to the gate.

They had known each other for a long time and lived together for a long time. Zakhar nursed little Oblomov in his arms, and Oblomov remembers him as a young, agile, gluttonous and crafty guy.

The ancient connection was indestructible between them. Just as Ilya Ilyich could neither get up, nor go to bed, nor be combed and shod, nor dine without the help of Zakhar, so Zakhar could not imagine another master, except for Ilya Ilyich, another existence, how to dress, feed him, be rude to him, dissemble , lie and at the same time inwardly revere him.

Zakhar, having closed the door behind Tarantiev and Alekseev, did not go to the couch. He stayed to wait for the master to call him, because he heard that Ilya Ilyich was going to write. But everything was quiet in the master's office. Looking through the crack in the door, Zakhar saw that Oblomov was lying on the sofa, leaning his head on his palm, and reading a book. He reminded the master that he was going to wash and write. Oblomov, putting down the book, yawned and again began to think about his misfortunes, "he was inclined to bliss and dreams."

“No, first things first,” he thought sternly, “and then ...” He lay on his back and began to imagine the plan of a new village house and an orchard. He imagined sitting on the terrace on a summer evening, at the tea table, in the shade of the trees and enjoying the silence and coolness. At the gates, the merry voices of the servants are heard, babies frolic around him, and “behind the samovar, the queen of everything around, his deity ... a woman sees! wife!" Zakhar sets the table in the dining room, and everyone, including his childhood friend Stolz, sits down for dinner. And this dream was so bright and alive that Oblomov’s face lit up with happiness, and “he suddenly felt a vague desire for love, quiet happiness .., his home, wife and children. “God, God!” - he said from the fullness of happiness and woke up.

But the voices and noise coming from the street brought him back to reality, and the old worries arose in his memory: the plan of the house, the headman, the apartment ... Oblomov quickly got up on the sofa, sat down and called Zakhar. When the servant came, he again fell into thought, began to pull himself up, yawn ... Zakhar said that the manager came again, ordered to move out next week. After another squabble with the servant, Oblomov sat down to write a letter to the landlord. The letter turned out to be clumsy, and then there was Zakhar with his accounts ... “This is a ruin! It doesn’t look like anything, ”Oblomov said, pushing away greasy notebooks with scores, and Zakhar,“ closing his eyes and grumbling, ”explained to him where the debts came from.

Finally, Ilya Ilyich drove Zakhar away, sat down in a chair, tucking his legs under him, and at that moment the bell rang. It was the doctor, a short man with a bald head, ruddy cheeks and a caringly attentive face.

Doctor! What fates? Oblomov exclaimed, holding out one hand to the guest, and moving a chair with the other.

I miss that you are all healthy, don't call me, I came in myself, - the doctor answered jokingly. - No, - he added then seriously, - I was upstairs, at your neighbor's, and I came to visit.

Thank you. What about a neighbor?

What: three or four weeks, and maybe it will last until autumn, and then ... water in the chest: the end is known. Well, what are you?

Oblomov shook his head sadly.

Bad doctor. I was thinking of consulting you myself. I do not know what to do. The stomach almost does not boil, there is heaviness in the pit of the stomach, heartburn tortured, breathing is difficult ... - Oblomov said with a pitiful mine.

Give me your hand, - said the doctor, took a pulse and closed his eyes for a minute. - Do you have a cough? - he asked.

At night, especially when I have dinner.

Hm! Is there a heartbeat? My head hurts?

And the doctor made a few more similar questions, then tilted his bald head and thought deeply. After two minutes, he suddenly raised his head and said in a decisive voice:

If you live for another two or three years in this climate and lie down, eat fatty and heavy things, you will die with a stroke.

Oblomov started up.

What should I do? Learn, for God's sake! - he asked.

The same thing that others do: go abroad.

Abroad! Oblomov repeated in amazement.

Yes; And what?

Pardon, doctor, abroad! How can this be?

Why is it not possible?

Oblomov silently looked around at himself, then at his office and automatically repeated:

Abroad!

What's stopping you?

Like what? All...

Lord! .. - Oblomov groaned.

Finally, - the doctor concluded, - go to Paris by winter and there, in the whirlwind of life, have fun, do not hesitate: from the theater to a ball, to a masquerade, out of town with visits, so that friends around you, noise, laughter ...

Is there anything else needed? - asked Oblomov with thinly hidden annoyance.

The Doctor thought...

Is it possible to use the sea air: take a steamer in England and ride to America ...

He got up and began to say goodbye.

If you do all this exactly ... - he said ...

All right, all right, I’ll certainly do it, ”Oblomov answered caustically, seeing him off.

The doctor left, leaving Oblomov in the most miserable position. He closed his eyes, put both hands on his head, huddled into a ball in his chair and sat there, looking nowhere, feeling nothing.

After seeing off the doctor, Oblomov again began to quarrel with Zakhar. The reasons for the discord were still the same: the troubles associated with the move and the letter from the headman. When Zakhar humbly remarked: “Others, no worse than us, but they move, so we can ...”, Ilya Ilyich lost his temper. The fact that Zakhar compared him with others, he considered an insult. He imperiously pointed Zakhar to the door and could not calm down for a long time. After some time, he called a servant to explain to him the vileness of his act. So without understanding each other, the master and the servant reconciled.

I hope that you understand your misdeed, - said Ilya Ilyich, when Zakhar brought kvass, - and you will not compare the master with others in the future. To make amends, you somehow settle with the owner, so that I do not move. This is how you keep the gentleman calm: you upset me completely and deprived me of some new useful thought. And from whom did you take it? At home; for you I devoted all of myself, for you I retired, I sit locked up ... Well, God bless you! Wow, it's three o'clock! Only two hours before lunch, what can you do at two o'clock? - Nothing. And a lot of things. So be it, I'll postpone the letter until the next mail, and I'll outline the plan tomorrow. Well, now I'll lie down a bit: I'm completely exhausted; you lower the curtains and shut me tighter, so as not to interfere; maybe I'll fall asleep for an hour; wake up at half past five.

Zakhar began to bottle up the master in his office; he first covered him himself and tucked the blanket under him, then lowered the curtains, tightly locked all the doors and went to his room.

So that you die, such a goblin! he grumbled, wiping away the traces of tears and climbing onto the couch. - Right, goblin! A special house, a garden, a salary! - said Zakhar, who understood only the last words. - A master of miserable words to say: so it cuts to the heart like a knife ... Here is my house and garden, here I will stretch my legs! he said, striking the couch with fury. - Salary! Just as you can’t get hryvnias and nickels into your hands, so there’s nothing to buy tobacco with, and there’s nothing for the godfather to regale! So that it was empty for you! .. Just think, death will not come!

Ilya Ilyich lay down on his back, but did not suddenly fall asleep. He thought, thought, worried, worried...

Two misfortunes suddenly! - he said, wrapping himself in a blanket completely with his head. - Please stop!

But in fact, these two misfortunes, that is, the ominous letter from the headman and the move to a new apartment, ceased to disturb Oblomov and entered only a series of restless memories ...

“Maybe Zakhar will try to arrange things in such a way that there will be no need to move at all, maybe they will manage: they will postpone until next summer or completely cancel perestroika; Well, they'll do it anyway! You can’t really ... move! .. "

So he was alternately agitated and calmed down, and, finally, in these conciliatory and soothing words maybe, maybe And somehow Oblomov found this time, as he always found, a whole ark of hopes and consolations, as in the ark of the covenant of our fathers, and at the present moment he managed to protect himself from two misfortunes with them ...

Almost falling asleep, Ilya Ilyich suddenly opened his eyes, thought and realized that everything he was going to do today - the plan of the estate, the letter to the police officer ... - could not be completed. “But another could do everything ...” - he thought and yawned. "One of the clear conscious moments in Oblomov's life has come." Questions arose in his head about human destiny and purpose. He felt ashamed and hurt for the way he lives - he doesn’t develop, he doesn’t strive anywhere ... “And envy gnawed at him that others live so fully and widely, and it’s as if he had thrown a heavy stone on the narrow and miserable path of his existence ...” He realized with perfect clarity that many parts of his soul had not awakened, and all the good that was in him had not manifested. And there was no way out: "the forest in the soul is increasingly and darker." Remembering the recent scene with Zakhar, he suddenly felt a burning shame. So, sighing and cursing himself, he continued to toss and turn until sleep stopped the flow of his thoughts.

IX. Oblomov's dream

Where are we? To what blessed corner of the earth did Oblomov's dream take us? What a wonderful land! .. There is nothing grandiose, wild and gloomy. The sky there is closer to the ground ..; it stretched out so low overhead, like a parent's reliable roof, in order to protect, it seems, the chosen corner from all sorts of adversities. The sun shines brightly and hotly there for about half a year ... The mountains there are a series of gently sloping hills from which it is pleasant to ride, frolic, on your back or, sitting on them, look in thought at the setting sun. The river runs merrily, frolicking and playing... Everything promises a peaceful, long-term life there... The annual circle is made there correctly and calmly... No terrible storms, no destruction can be heard in that land... How quiet everything is, everything is sleepy in three or four villages that make up this corner! .. The nearest villages and the county town were twenty-five and thirty versts away. Such was the corner where Oblomov was suddenly transported in a dream.

One of the villages was Sosnovka, the other Vavilovka. They were located a verst from each other and both belonged to the Oblomovs, therefore they were known under the common name Oblomovki.

“Ilya Ilyich woke up in the morning in his small bed. He is only seven years old. It's easy and fun for him." The nanny waits for his awakening, and then dresses, washes, combs and takes him to his mother. His mother kisses him passionately, leads him to the icon and prays. The boy absently repeats the words of the prayer after her. Then they go to their father's and then to tea. A lot of people gathered at the table: distant relatives of my father, an elderly aunt, my mother's slightly crazy brother-in-law, a landowner who came to visit, and some other old women and old men. Everyone showered Ilya Ilyich with caresses and kisses, and then fed them with buns, crackers and cream.

Then the mother let him go for a walk in the garden, around the yard and on the meadow, strictly ordering the nanny not to leave the child alone, not to allow him to horses and dogs, not to go far from home, and most importantly, not to let him into the ravine - the most terrible place in the neighborhood. about which there were bad rumors. But the child did not wait for the mother's warnings, and ran away into the yard a long time ago. With joyful amazement, he ran around the whole parental house, and was about to run up the dilapidated steps to the gallery in order to look at the river from there, but the nanny managed to catch him.

The child looks at how and what adults are doing this morning, and not a single trifle escapes his gaze - "the picture of home life is indelibly cut into the soul." From the human room there is a noise of a spindle and the voice of a woman. In the yard, as soon as Antip returned with the barrel, women and coachmen rushed towards it from different corners. The old woman carries a cup of flour and eggs from the barn ... Old man Oblomov himself sits at the window all morning and watches everything that is happening in the yard, and, in which case, takes measures against riots. And his wife is also busy: she chats with the tailor for three hours, then she goes to the maid's room, then to look around the garden...

"But the main concern was the kitchen and dinner." What to cook for dinner was decided by the whole house. "Care for food was the first and main concern of life in Oblomovka." Calves, turkeys and chickens were specially fattened for the holidays. “What stocks there were of jams, pickles, biscuits! What honeys, what kvass were brewed, what pies were baked in Oblomovka!” “And so until noon everything was fussing and caring, everything lived such a full, ant-like, such a noticeable life.” And on Sundays and holidays, everything was even more fussy: knives in the kitchen banged more often and harder, a gigantic pie was baked ... And a child watching all this saw how noon and lunch came after a busy morning. Dead silence reigned in the house - the hour of the afternoon nap came.

The child sees that the father, and the mother, and the old aunt, and the retinue - all scattered in their corners; and who did not have it, he went to the hayloft, another to the garden, the third sought coolness in the passage, and another, covering his face with a handkerchief from flies, fell asleep where the heat killed him and threw down the bulky dinner. And the gardener stretched out under a bush in the garden, beside his pick, and the coachman slept in the stable.

Ilya Ilyich looked into the people's room: in the people's room everyone lay side by side, on the benches, on the floor and in the entryway, leaving the children to themselves; children crawl around the yard and dig in the sand. And the dogs climbed far into the kennels, since there was no one to bark at.

One could walk right through the whole house and not meet a soul; it was easy to rob everything around and take them out of the yard in carts: no one would interfere if only there were thieves in that region.

It was some kind of all-consuming, invincible dream, a true likeness of death. Everything is dead, only a variety of snoring in all tones and modes rushes from all corners.

Occasionally, someone will suddenly raise his head from sleep, look senselessly, with surprise at both sides and roll over to the other side, or, without opening his eyes, spit awake and, slurping his lips or grumbling something under his breath, will fall asleep again.

And the other quickly, without any preliminary preparations, jumps up with both feet from his bed, as if afraid of losing precious minutes, grabs a mug of kvass and, blowing on the flies floating there, so that they are carried to the other side, why the flies, until then immobile, begin to move violently, in the hope of improving their situation, wet their throats and then fall back on the bed like a shot.

And the child watched and watched everything.

When it began to get dark, the servants gathered at the gate, laughter was heard. The sun was sinking behind the forest, and everything merged into gray, and then into a dark mass. Everything was silent, the first stars appeared in the sky.

The day has passed, and thank God! - said the Oblomovites, lying down in bed, groaning and making the sign of the cross. - lived happily; God bless tomorrow too! Glory to you, Lord! Glory to you, Lord!

“Then Oblomov dreamed of another time: on an endless winter evening, he timidly huddles up to his nanny, and she whispers to him about some unknown country, where there are no nights, no cold, where everyone performs miracles .., and they only know day-to-day that all good fellows are walking, such as Ilya Ilyich, and beauties, which cannot be said in a fairy tale, nor described with a pen. The child listened to the story, "pricking up his ears and eyes," and the nanny told him about the exploits of Ilya Muromets, Dobrynya Nikitich, Alyosha Popovich, about sleeping princesses, petrified cities and people, about monsters and werewolves. Listening to his nanny's fairy tales, the boy either imagined himself a hero of a feat, or suffered for the failures of the young man. “The story flowed after the story,” and the boy’s imagination was filled with strange ghosts, fear settled in his soul. Looking around and seeing the harm in life, he dreams of that magical land where there is no evil, where they are well fed and clothed for nothing...

"The fairy tale, not only over children in Oblomovka, but also over adults, retains its power until the end of life." Everyone in Oblomovka believed in the existence of werewolves and the dead.

Ilya Ilyich will see later that the world is simply arranged, that the dead do not rise from the graves, that the giants, as soon as they start up, are immediately put into a booth, and robbers into prison; but if the very belief in ghosts disappears, then some residue of fear and unaccountable anguish remains.

Ilya Ilyich found out that there are no troubles from monsters, and he hardly knows what they are, and at every step everyone is waiting for something terrible and is afraid. And now, when he remains in a dark room or sees a dead person, he trembles from the ominous melancholy planted in his soul in childhood; laughing at his fears in the morning, he turns pale again in the evening.

“Further on, Ilya Ilyich suddenly saw himself as a boy of thirteen or fourteen.” He studies in the village of Verkhlev, with the local manager, the German Stolz, together with his own son Andrei. "Maybe ... Ilyusha would have managed to learn something well if Oblomovka was five hundred versts from Verkhlev." After all, this village was also once Oblomovka, and everything here, "except Stolz's house, everything breathed the same primitive laziness, simplicity of morals, silence and immobility." The Oblomovites did not even know about those concerns that give life to labor, they did not know the anxieties and how they were afraid of the fire of passions. They understood life as an ideal of peace and inactivity, which is occasionally violated by minor troubles, such as illness and quarrels. They never asked themselves vague questions and therefore looked healthy and flourishing; they did not talk with children about the purpose of life, but gave it ready-made, the same as they themselves received from their parents. And they didn’t need anything: “life, like a calm river, flowed past them; they could only sit on the banks of this river and observe the inevitable phenomena that, in turn, without a call, appeared before each of them.

Before the imagination of the sleeping Oblomov, “the three main acts of his life” were opened, which are played out in every family: homeland, wedding, funeral; and then its cheerful and sad divisions stretched out: christenings, name days, family holidays, noisy dinners, congratulations, tears and smiles. Familiar faces floated before his mind's eye. Everything in Oblomovka was done according to the established rules, but these rules affected only the outer side of life. When a child was born, everyone cared only that he grew up healthy, ate well; then they looked for a bride and celebrated a merry wedding. So life went on as usual until it was interrupted by the grave. Once, a dilapidated gallery collapsed in the Oblomovs' house. Everyone began to think about how to fix the issue. Three weeks later, the peasants were ordered to drag the boards to the sheds so that they would not lie on the road. There they lay until spring. Old man Oblomov, every time he saw them through the window, thought about what could be done. He will call the carpenter to him and discuss with him, and then let him go with the words: "Go ahead, and I'll think about it." In the end, it was decided to support the central part of the gallery for the time being with old debris, which they did by the end of the month. One day, old man Oblomov lifted a wattle fence in the garden with his own hands and ordered the gardener to support it with poles. Thanks to the foresight of Father Ilya Ilyich, the wattle fence stood like that all summer, and only in winter did it snow again.

A long winter evening is coming.

The mother sits on the sofa, her legs tucked under her, and lazily knits a baby stocking, yawning and scratching her head with a knitting needle from time to time.

Nastasya Ivanovna and Pelageya Ignatievna sit beside her, and, with their noses buried in work, they diligently sew something for the holiday for Ilyusha, or for his father, or for themselves.

The father, with his hands behind his back, walks up and down the room in perfect pleasure, or he will sit down in an armchair and, after sitting for a while, begin to walk again, attentively listening to the sound of his own steps. Then he sniffs the tobacco, blows his nose and sniffs again.

A single tallow candle burns dimly in the room, and this was allowed only on winter and autumn evenings. In the summer months, everyone tried to go to bed and get up without candles, in daylight.

This was done partly out of habit, partly out of economy.

For every item that was not produced at home, but was purchased by purchase, the Oblomovites were extremely stingy ...

In general, they did not like to spend money there, and no matter how necessary the thing was, the money for it was always issued with great condolences, and even if the cost was insignificant. A significant waste was accompanied by groans, cries and abuse.

The Oblomovites agreed to endure any kind of inconvenience better, they even got used to not considering them as inconveniences, than to spend money.

From this, the sofa in the living room has long been all stained, from this the leather armchair of Ilya Ivanych is only called leather, but in fact it is not that bast, not that rope: there is only one scrap of leather left on the back, and the rest has already fallen to pieces for five years and peeled off; That's why, perhaps, the gates are all crooked, and the porch is tottering. But to pay for something, even the most necessary, suddenly two hundred, three hundred, five hundred rubles seemed to them almost suicide ...

On the chairs in the living room, in different positions, the inhabitants or ordinary visitors of the house sit and sniff.

For the most part, deep silence reigns between the interlocutors: everyone sees each other daily; mental treasures are mutually exhausted and explored, and there is little news from outside.

Quiet; only the steps of heavy, homemade boots of Ilya Ivanovich are heard, the wall clock in the case still taps dully with a pendulum, and a thread torn from time to time by hand or teeth at Pelageya Ignatievna or at Nastasya Ivanovna breaks the deep silence.

So sometimes half an hour will pass, unless someone yawns aloud and crosses his mouth, saying: “Lord have mercy!”

A neighbor yawns behind him, then the next one, slowly, as if on command, opens his mouth, and so on, the contagious play of air in the lungs will bypass everyone, and a tear will break through another.

Or Ilya Ivanovich will go to the window, look in there and say with some surprise: “Only five more hours, and how dark it is outside!”

Yes, someone will answer, it is always dark at this time; the long evenings are coming.

And in the spring they will be surprised and delighted that long days are coming. And ask why they need these long days, they themselves do not know.

And they shut up again...

Ilya Ilyich sees in a dream not one, not two such evenings, but whole weeks, months and years of days and evenings spent like this. Nothing disturbed the monotony of this life, and the Oblomovites themselves were not burdened by it, because they could not imagine another life-existence ... They did not want another life ... Why do they need diversity, changes, accidents ..? After all, they require worries, troubles, running around ...

They continued for a whole day to sniff, doze and yawn, or burst into good-natured laughter from village humor, or, gathering in a circle, told what they had seen in a dream at night.

Once the monotonous course of life was disturbed by an unusual event. One of the Oblomov peasants brought a letter from the station. This event excited the whole family - the hostess even changed a little in her face. However, the letter was not opened immediately - for four days they wondered who it could be from. But curiosity was stronger. On the fourth day, having gathered in a crowd, they opened a letter. In it, an acquaintance of the family asked to send him a recipe for beer, which was especially well brewed in Oblomovka. It was decided to send But they were in no hurry to write: for a long time they could not find a recipe, and then they decided not to spend forty kopecks on postage, but to hand over the letter with an opportunity. Whether the author of the letter with the recipe waited or not is unknown.

Ilya Ivanovich considered reading a luxury - a matter that one could do without, and looked at a book as a thing intended for entertainment. “I haven’t read a book for a long time,” he will say, and if he accidentally sees a stack of books inherited from his brother, he takes out what comes across and reads “with equal pleasure.” On Mondays, when it was necessary to go to Stolz, melancholy attacked Ilyusha. That morning they fed him buns and pretzels, gave him jams, biscuits and other delicacies for the journey. But Ilyusha's trip was often postponed due to a holiday or an imaginary illness, the parents found any excuse to leave their son at home. “Behind pretexts, and apart from holidays, the matter did not arise. In winter it seemed cold to them, in summer it’s also not good to go in the heat, and sometimes it will rain, in autumn the slush interferes ... "

"The old people understood the benefits of enlightenment, but only its external benefits." They understood that it was possible to get into people only through learning, but they had a vague idea of ​​the very need for learning, “that’s why they wanted to catch some brilliant advantages for their Ilyusha for the time being ... They also dreamed of an embroidered uniform for him, imagined him as an adviser in the ward, and the mother even the governor; but they wanted to achieve all this somehow cheaper, with various tricks .., that is, for example, study lightly, not to the exhaustion of the soul and body .., but in such a way that they only observe the prescribed form and somehow get a certificate in which it was said that Ilyusha passed all sciences and arts».

The tender solicitude of his parents sometimes bothered Ilyusha. He will run around the yard, and rushes after him: “Ah, ah! It will fall, it will break!” He wants to open the window in winter, again: “Where to? How can you? You will be killed! You'll catch a cold! And Ilyusha grew, "cherished like an exotic flower in a greenhouse, and just like the last one under glass, he grew slowly and sluggishly."

And sometimes he wakes up so cheerful, fresh, cheerful; he feels: something is playing in him, seething, as if some kind of demon has settled in, which teases him now to climb on the roof, then sit on the savraska and jump into the meadows where hay is being cut, or sit on the fence on horseback, or tease village dogs; or suddenly you want to start running through the village, then into the field, along the gullies, into the birch forest, and in three leaps rush to the bottom of the ravine, or follow the boys to play snowballs, try your hand.

The imp is tempting him: he is fastening, fastening, finally he can’t stand it, and suddenly, without a cap, in winter, he jumps from the porch into the yard, from there through the gate, grabs a clod of snow in both hands and rushes to a bunch of boys.

The fresh wind cuts his face like that, frost stings behind his ears, it smelled of cold in his mouth and throat, and his chest was filled with joy - he rushes where his legs came from, he himself squeals and laughs.

Here are the boys: he bangs with snow - by: there is no skill; just wanted to grab another snowball, when a whole block of snow covered his whole face: he fell; and it hurts him out of habit, and merrily, and he laughs, and there are tears in his eyes ...

And there is a hubbub in the house: Ilyusha is gone! Scream, noise. Zakharka jumped out into the yard, followed by Vaska, Mitka, Vanka - everyone was running, confused, around the yard.

Two dogs rushed after them, grabbing them by the heels, which, as you know, cannot indifferently see a running person.

People screaming, screaming, dogs barking rush through the village.

Finally, they ran into the boys and began to administer justice: some by the hair, some by the ears, another slapped on the back of the head; they also threatened their fathers.

Then they already took possession of the young lady, wrapped him in a captured sheepskin coat, then in his father's fur coat, then in two blankets, and solemnly brought him home in his arms.

At home they despaired of seeing him already, considering him dead; but at the sight of him, alive and unharmed, the joy of his parents was indescribable. They thanked the Lord God, then gave him mint to drink, elderberry there, and raspberries in the evening, and kept him in bed for three days, and one thing could be useful for him: to play snowballs again ...

No sooner had Ilya Ilyich's snoring reached Zakhar's ears than he jumped cautiously, without noise, from the couch, went out on tiptoe into the passage, locked the master up with a padlock, and went to the gate.

Ah, Zakhar Trofimych: welcome! Haven't seen you for a long time! - the coachman, footmen, women and boys at the gate spoke in different voices.

While Oblomov was sleeping, Zakhar was gossiping at the gate with coachmen, lackeys, women and boys. He lied that Oblomov got drunk, and therefore sleeps at such a time that the master can insult anyone for no reason at all ... After that, he quarreled with the coachman and promised to complain about him to the master.

Well, sir! remarked the coachman caustically. - Where did you dig this up?

He himself, and the janitor, and the barber, and the lackey, and the defender of the system of cursing - all burst out laughing.

Laugh, laugh, and I'll tell the master something! - croaked Zakhar.

And you,” he said, turning to the janitor, “should appease these robbers, and not laugh. Why are you assigned here? - Correct every order. What about you? I'll tell the master something; wait, you will!

Well, full, full, Zakhar Trofimych! - said the janitor, trying to calm him down, - what did he do to you?

How dare he talk about my master like that? Zakhar objected ardently, pointing to the coachman. - Does he know who my master is? he asked reverently. - Yes, you, - he said, turning to the coachman, - and in a dream you won’t see such a gentleman: kind, smart, handsome! And yours is definitely an unfed nag! It's a shame to see how you leave the yard on a brown mare: like beggars! Eat a radish with kvass. There is an Armenian girl on you: you can’t count the holes! ..

Having quarreled with everyone, Zakhar went to the pub.

At the beginning of five o'clock Zakhar cautiously, without noise, unlocked the hallway and tiptoed into his room; there he went to the door of the master's office and first put his ear to it, then sat down and put his eye to the keyhole.

There was a loud snoring in the office.

Sleeping, - he whispered, - it is necessary to wake up: soon half past five.

He coughed and entered the office.

Ilya Ilyich! Ah, Ilya Ilyich! - he began quietly, standing at the head of Oblomov.

The snoring continued.

Eck is sleeping! - said Zakhar, - like a bricklayer. Ilya Ilyich!

Zakhar touched Oblomov lightly on the sleeve.

Get up: the fifth half.

Ilya Ilyich only mumbled in response to this, but did not wake up ...

Well, - said Zakhar in despair, - oh, you little head! What are you lying like a deck? Because it hurts to look at you. Look, good people!.. Pah!

Get up, get up! he suddenly spoke in a frightened voice. - Ilya Ilyich! Look at what's going on around you.

Oblomov quickly raised his head, looked around, and lay down again, with a deep sigh.

Leave me alone! he said importantly. - I told you to wake me up, and now I cancel the order - do you hear? I'll wake up when I want to.

Sometimes Zakhar will fall behind, saying: “Well, sleep, to hell with you!” And another time he will insist on his own, and now he insisted.

Get up, get up! - he shouted at the top of his voice and grabbed Oblomov with both hands by the floor and by the sleeve.

Oblomov suddenly, unexpectedly jumped to his feet and rushed at Zakhar.

Wait, so I'll teach you how to disturb the master when he wants to rest! he said.

Zakhar rushed at full speed from him, but at the third step Oblomov sobered up completely from sleep and began to stretch, yawning.

Give me ... kvass ... - he said between yawns.

Immediately, from behind Zakhar, someone burst into ringing laughter. Both looked back.

Stolz! Stolz! - Oblomov shouted in delight, rushing to the guest.

Andrei Ivanovich! Zakhar said, grinning.

Stolz continued to roll with laughter: he saw the whole scene taking place.