I.S. Turgenev "Mumu": description, characters, analysis of the work

In one of the remote streets of Moscow, in a gray house with white columns, a mezzanine and a crooked balcony, there once lived a mistress, a widow, surrounded by numerous servants. Her sons served in St. Petersburg, her daughters got married; she rarely went out and lived out the last years of her miserly and bored old age in solitude. Her day, joyless and rainy, has long passed; but even her evening was blacker than the night. Of all her servants, the most remarkable person was the janitor Gerasim, a man of twelve inches tall, built by a hero and deaf-mute from birth. The lady took him from the village, where he lived alone, in a small hut, apart from his brothers, and was considered perhaps the most serviceable draft peasant. Gifted with extraordinary strength, he worked for four - the case was arguing in his hands, and it was fun to look at him when he either plowed and, leaning his huge palms on the plow, seemed to be alone, without help. horses, cut open the elastic chest of the earth, or on Peter's day the scythe acted so crushingly that even a young birch forest would be brushed off the roots, or it thrashed agilely and non-stop with a three-foot flail, and the oblong and hard muscles of his shoulders lowered and rose like a lever. The constant silence gave solemn importance to his indefatigable work. He was a nice peasant, and if it were not for his misfortune, any girl would gladly marry him ... But Gerasim was brought to Moscow, they bought him boots, sewed a caftan for the summer, a sheepskin coat for the winter, gave him a broom and a shovel in his hands, and assigned him as a janitor. At first, he did not like his new life strongly. From childhood, he got used to field work, to village life. Alienated by his misfortune from the community of people, he grew up dumb and mighty, like a tree growing on fertile land ... Moved to the city, he did not understand what was happening to him - he was bored and wondered how a young, healthy bull, which only what they took from the field, where lush grass grew up to his belly, they took it, put it on a railroad car - and now, dousing his fat body with either smoke with sparks, or undulating steam, they rush him now, rush with a knock and squeal, and where they rush - God knows! Gerasim's employment in his new position seemed to him a joke after hard peasant work; and for half an hour everything was ready for him, and he would again stop in the middle of the yard and stare, open-mouthed, at all the passers-by, as if wishing to obtain from them a solution to his enigmatic situation, then he would suddenly go off somewhere into a corner and, throwing the broom far away and shovel, threw himself face down on the ground, and lay motionless on his chest for hours, like a captured animal. But a person gets used to everything, and Gerasim finally got used to city life. He had little to do; his whole duty was to keep the yard clean, to bring a barrel of water twice a day, to haul and chop firewood for the kitchen and the house, and to keep strangers out and guard at night. And it must be said that he diligently fulfilled his duty: in his yard there was never any wood chips or rubbish; if in a dirty time somewhere with a barrel a broken water-horse given under his command will get stuck, he will only move his shoulder - and not only the cart, the horse itself will push from its place; if he starts chopping wood, the ax will ring with him like glass, and splinters and logs will fly in all directions; and as for strangers, after one night, having caught two thieves, he banged their foreheads against each other, and banged them so hard that even if you don’t take them to the police later, everyone in the neighborhood began to respect him very much; even during the day, those passing by, no longer swindlers at all, but simply strangers, at the sight of the formidable janitor, waved and shouted at him, as if he could hear their cries. With the rest of the servants, Gerasim was not on friendly terms - they were afraid of him - but short ones: he considered them to be his own. They communicated with him by signs, and he understood them, carried out all orders exactly, but he also knew his rights, and no one dared to take his place in the capital. In general, Gerasim was of a strict and serious disposition, he liked order in everything; even the roosters did not dare to fight in his presence, otherwise it’s a disaster! he saw, he immediately grabbed his legs, turned the wheel ten times in the air and threw him apart. There were also geese in the lady's yard; but the goose, as you know, is an important and reasonable bird; Gerasim felt respect for them, went after them and fed them; he himself looked like a sedate gander. He was given a closet above the kitchen; he arranged it for himself, according to his own taste: he built in it a bed of oak planks on four blocks, a truly heroic bed; one hundred pounds could be put on it, it would not bend; under the bed was a hefty chest; in the corner stood a table of the same strong quality, and next to the table was a three-legged chair, so strong and squat that Gerasim himself used to pick it up, drop it and grin. The closet was locked with a lock, reminiscent of its appearance kalach, only black; Gerasim always carried the key to this lock with him on his belt. He did not like to be visited. So a year passed, at the end of which a small incident happened to Gerasim. The old lady, with whom he lived as a janitors, followed the ancient customs in everything and kept numerous servants: in her house there were not only laundresses, seamstresses, carpenters, tailors and dressmakers, there was even one saddler, he was also considered a veterinarian and doctor for people, there was a house doctor for the mistress, there was, finally, one shoemaker, named Kapiton Klimov, a bitter drunkard. Klimov considered himself an offended and unappreciated creature, an educated and metropolitan man who could not live in Moscow, idle, in some backwater, and if he drank, as he himself put it with an arrangement and pounding his chest, then he drank already from grief. One day the lady and her chief butler, Gavrila, were talking about him, a man whom, judging by his yellow eyes and duck nose alone, fate itself seemed to have determined to be a commanding person. The lady regretted the corrupted morality of Kapiton, who had just been found somewhere on the street the day before. “Well, Gavrila,” she suddenly spoke, “shouldn’t we marry him, what do you think?” Maybe he'll calm down. - Why not marry, sir! You can, sir, answered Gavrila, and it will be very good, sir. - Yes; but who will go after him? - Of course, sir. And yet, as you please, sir. Yet, so to speak, he may be needed for something; you can't throw him out of ten. - It seems that he likes Tatyana? Gavrila was about to say something, but he pressed his lips together. - Yes! .. let Tatiana woo Tatyana, - the lady decided, sniffing tobacco with pleasure, - do you hear? "I'm listening, sir," Gavrila said and left. Returning to his room (it was in the wing and was almost completely cluttered with wrought-iron chests), Gavrila first sent his wife out, and then sat down by the window and thought. The unexpected order of the lady, apparently, puzzled him. Finally he got up and ordered Kapiton to be called. Kapiton appeared ... But before we convey to the readers their conversation, we consider it useful to tell in a few words who this Tatyana was, whom Kapiton had to marry, and why the command of the lady embarrassed the butler. Tatyana, who, as we said above, was a laundress (however, as a skilled and learned laundress, she was entrusted with only thin linen), was a woman of about twenty, small, thin, blond, with moles on her left cheek. Moles on the left cheek are revered in Rus' as a bad omen - a portent of an unhappy life ... Tatyana could not boast of her fate. From early youth she was kept in a black body; she worked for two, but she never saw any kindness; they dressed her badly, she received the smallest salary; she didn't have any relatives: one old housekeeper, abandoned in the country as unusable, was her uncle, and her other uncles were peasants, that's all. Once upon a time, the ode was known as a beauty, but beauty very soon jumped off her. She was of a very meek disposition, or, rather, frightened; she felt complete indifference to herself, she was mortally afraid of others; she thought only of how to finish the work on time, never spoke to anyone and trembled at the mere name of the mistress, although she hardly knew her in the face. When Gerasim was brought from the village, she almost died of horror at the sight of his huge figure, tried her best not to meet him, even squinted, it happened when she happened to run past him, hurrying from the house to the laundry - Gerasim at first did not pay special attention to her attention, then he began to chuckle when he came across her, then he began to look at her, and finally he did not take his eyes off her at all. She fell in love with him; whether by a meek expression on his face, or by timidity of movements - God knows! One day she was making her way around the yard, carefully picking up the lady's starched jacket on spread fingers ... someone suddenly grabbed her by the elbow; she turned around and screamed: Gerasim was standing behind her. Laughing stupidly and lowing affectionately, he held out to her a gingerbread cockerel with gold leaf on its tail and wings. She was about to refuse, but he forcibly shoved it right into her hand, shook his head, walked away and, turning around, mumbled something very friendly to her again. From that day on, he didn’t give her rest: wherever she used to go, he was already right there, going to meet her, smiling, lowing, waving his arms, he would suddenly pull out the tape from his bosom and hand it to her, with a broom in front of her, dust will clear. The poor girl simply did not know how to be and what to do. Soon the whole house learned about the tricks of the dumb janitor; ridicule, jokes, biting words rained down on Tatyana. However, not everyone dared to mock Gerasim: he did not like jokes; Yes, and she was left alone with him. The Rada is not happy, but the girl fell under his protection. Like all deaf-mutes, he was very quick-witted and understood very well when he or she was being laughed at. One day, at dinner, the housekeeper, Tatyana's boss, began, as they say, to shove her, and brought her to such a point that she, poor woman, did not know what to do with her eyes and almost wept with vexation. Gerasim suddenly got up, stretched out his huge hand, put it on the wardrobe-maid's head, and looked into her face with such sullen ferocity that she stooped down to the table. Everyone was silent. Gerasim took up the spoon again and continued to sip the cabbage soup. "Look, deaf devil, goblin!" - they all muttered in an undertone, and the wardrobe lady got up and went into the maid's room. And then another time, noticing that Kapiton, the same Kapiton of whom we were just talking, was somehow too graciously breaking up with Tatyana, Gerasim beckoned him to him with his finger, led him into the carriage house and, grabbing the end of what was standing in drawbar in the corner, slightly, but significantly, threatened him with it. Since then, no one has spoken to Tatyana. And he got away with it all. True, as soon as she ran into the maid's room, the housekeeper immediately fainted and, in general, acted so skillfully that on the same day she brought to the attention of the mistress Gerasim's rude act; but the whimsical old woman only laughed, several times, to the extreme insult of the housekeeper, made her repeat how, they say, he bent you down with his heavy hand, and the next day sent Gerasim a ruble. She praised him as a faithful and strong watchman. Gerasim was rather afraid of her. but still he hoped for her mercy and was about to go to her with a request if she would not allow him to marry Tatyana. He was just waiting for a new caftan, promised to him by the butler, in order to appear in decent form before the mistress, when suddenly this very mistress came up with the idea of ​​marrying Tatyana to Kapiton.

Current page: 1 (total book has 4 pages)

Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev

In one of the remote streets of Moscow, in a gray house with white columns, a mezzanine and a crooked balcony, there once lived a lady, a widow, surrounded by numerous servants. Her sons served in St. Petersburg, her daughters got married; she rarely went out and lived out the last years of her miserly and bored old age in solitude. Her day, joyless and rainy, has long passed; but even her evening was blacker than the night.

Of all her servants, the most remarkable person was the porter Gerasim, a man of twelve inches tall, built by a hero and deaf-mute from birth.

The lady took him from the village, where he lived alone, in a small hut, apart from his brothers, and was considered perhaps the most serviceable draft peasant. Gifted with extraordinary strength, he worked for four - the matter was arguing in his hands, and it was fun to look at him when he either plowed and, leaning his huge palms on the plow, it seemed, alone, without the help of a horse, cut up the elastic chest of the earth, or about Petrov the day acted so crushingly as a scythe that even if a young birch forest was brushed off its roots, or agilely and unceasingly thrashed with a three-foot flail, and, like a lever, the oblong and hard muscles of his shoulders fell and rose. The constant silence gave solemn importance to his indefatigable work. He was a nice man, and had it not been for his misfortune, any girl would have gladly married him ... But Gerasim was brought to Moscow, they bought him boots, sewed a caftan for the summer, a sheepskin coat for the winter, gave him a broom and a shovel in his hands and identified him janitor.

At first, he did not like his new life strongly. From childhood, he got used to field work, to village life. Alienated by his misfortune from the community of people, he grew up mute and powerful, like a tree growing on fertile land ... Moved to the city, he did not understand what was happening to him, he was bored and perplexed, as a young healthy bull, who had just been taken from the field, is perplexed , where lush grass grew up to his belly - they took it, put it on a railway carriage, and now, dousing his fat body with either smoke with sparks, or undulating steam, they rush him now, they rush with a knock and squeal, and where they rush - God knows ! Gerasim's employment in his new position seemed to him a joke after hard peasant work; in half an hour everything was ready for him, and he would again stop in the middle of the yard and stare, with his mouth open, at all the passers-by, as if wishing to obtain from them a solution to his enigmatic situation, then he would suddenly go off somewhere into a corner and, throwing the broom far away and shovel, threw himself face down on the ground, and lay motionless on his chest for hours, like a captured animal. But a person gets used to everything, and Gerasim finally got used to city life. He had little to do: his whole duty was to keep the yard clean, to bring a barrel of water twice a day, to haul and chop firewood for the kitchen and house, and to keep strangers out and guard at night. And I must say, he diligently fulfilled his duty: in the yard he never had any chips lying around, nor copy; if in a dirty time somewhere with a barrel a broken water-horse given under his command gets stuck, he will only move his shoulder - and not only the cart, the horse itself will push from its place; if he starts chopping wood, the ax will ring with him like glass, and splinters and logs will fly in all directions; and as for strangers, after one night, having caught two thieves, he banged their foreheads against each other, and banged them so hard that even if you don’t take them to the police later, everyone in the neighborhood began to respect him very much; even during the day, those passing by, no longer swindlers at all, but simply strangers, at the sight of the formidable janitor, waved and shouted at him, as if he could hear their cries. With the rest of the servants, Gerasim was not on friendly terms - they were afraid of him - but short ones; he considered them to be his. They communicated with him by signs, and he understood them, carried out all orders exactly, but he also knew his rights, and no one dared to take his place in the capital. In general, Gerasim was of a strict and serious disposition, he liked order in everything; even the roosters did not dare to fight in his presence - otherwise it's a disaster! - he will see, immediately grab him by the legs, turn the wheel ten times in the air and throw him apart. There were also geese in the lady's yard; but the goose, as you know, is an important and reasonable bird; Gerasim felt respect for them, went after them and fed them; he himself looked like a sedate gander. He was given a closet above the kitchen; he arranged it for himself, according to his own taste, built in it a bed of oak planks on four blocks - a truly heroic bed; one hundred pounds could be put on it - it would not bend; under the bed was a hefty chest; in the corner stood a table of the same strong quality, and near the table there was a chair with three legs, but so strong and squat that Gerasim himself used to pick it up, drop it and grin. The closet was locked with a lock, reminiscent of its appearance kalach, only black; Gerasim always carried the key to this lock with him on his belt. He did not like to be visited.

So a year passed, at the end of which a small incident happened to Gerasim.

The old lady, with whom he lived as a janitors, followed the ancient customs in everything and kept numerous servants: in her house there were not only laundresses, seamstresses, carpenters, tailors and dressmakers, there was even one saddler, he was also considered a veterinarian and a doctor for people, there was a house doctor for the mistress, there was, finally, one shoemaker, named Kapiton Klimov, a bitter drunkard. Klimov considered himself an offended and unappreciated creature, an educated and metropolitan man who could not live in Moscow, idle, in some backwater, and if he drank, as he himself put it, with an arrangement and pounding his chest, then already drank from grief. One day the lady and her chief butler, Gavrila, were talking about him, a man whom, judging by his yellow eyes and duck nose alone, fate itself seemed to have determined to be a commanding person. The lady regretted the corrupted morality of Kapiton, who had just been found somewhere on the street the day before.

“Well, Gavrilo,” she suddenly began, “shouldn’t we marry him, what do you think?” Maybe he'll calm down.

- Why not marry, sir! it’s possible, sir,” answered Gavrilo, “and it will be very good, sir.

- Yes; But who will go after him?

- Of course, sir. And yet, as you please, sir. Yet, so to speak, he may be needed for something; you can't throw him out of ten.

- It seems that he likes Tatyana?

Gavrilo was about to say something, but he pressed his lips together.

“Yes! .. let him woo Tatyana,” the lady decided, sniffing tobacco with pleasure, “do you hear?

"I'm listening, sir," Gavrilo said and left.

Returning to his room (it was in the wing and was almost completely cluttered with wrought-iron chests), Gavrilo first sent his wife out, and then sat down by the window and thought. The unexpected order of the lady, apparently, puzzled him. Finally he got up and ordered Kapiton to be called. Kapiton appeared ... But, before we convey to the readers their conversation, we consider it useful to tell in a few words who this Tatyana was, whom Kapiton had to marry, and why the command of the lady embarrassed the butler.

Tatyana, who, as we said above, was a laundress (however, as a skilled and learned laundress, she was entrusted with only thin linen), was a woman of about twenty-eight, small, thin, blond, with moles on her left cheek. Moles on the left cheek are revered in Rus' as a bad omen - a portent of an unhappy life ... Tatyana could not boast of her fate. From early youth she was kept in a black body: she worked for two, but she never saw any kindness; dressed her badly; she received the smallest salary; she didn’t have any relatives: one old housekeeper, abandoned in the country as unusable, was her uncle, and her other uncles were peasants, that’s all. Once she was known as a beauty, but beauty very soon jumped off her. Her disposition was very meek, or, rather, frightened; she felt complete indifference to herself, she was mortally afraid of others; she thought only of how to finish the work on time, never spoke to anyone and trembled at the mere name of the mistress, although she hardly knew her in the face. When Gerasim was brought from the village, she almost died of horror at the sight of his huge figure, she tried in every possible way not to meet him, she even blinked her eyes when she happened to run past him, hurrying from the house to the laundry. Gerasim at first did not pay much attention to her, then he began to chuckle when he came across her, then he began to look at her, and finally did not take his eyes off her at all. He fell in love with her: whether with a meek expression on her face, or timidity of movements - God knows! One day she was making her way around the yard, carefully picking up the lady's starched jacket on spread fingers ... someone suddenly grabbed her by the elbow; she turned around and screamed: Gerasim was standing behind her. Laughing stupidly and lowing affectionately, he held out to her a spicy cockerel with gold leaf on its tail and wings. She was about to refuse, but he forcibly shoved the gingerbread into her hand, shook his head, walked away and, turning around, mumbled something very friendly to her again. From that day on, he didn’t give her rest: wherever she went, he was already right there, going to meet her, smiling, lowing, waving his arms, suddenly pulling out the ribbon from his bosom and handing it to her, clearing the dust in front of her with a broom. The poor girl simply did not know how to be and what to do. Soon the whole house learned about the tricks of the dumb janitor; ridicule, jokes, biting words rained down on Tatyana. However, not everyone dared to mock Gerasim: he did not like jokes, and even she was left alone in his presence. The Rada is not happy, but the girl fell under his protection. Like all deaf-mutes, he was very quick-witted and understood very well when he or she was being laughed at. One day, at dinner, the housekeeper, Tatyana's boss, began to shove her, as they say, and brought her to such a point that she, poor woman, did not know where to put her eyes, and almost cried with annoyance. Gerasim suddenly got up, stretched out his huge hand, put it on the wardrobe-maid's head, and looked into her face with such sullen ferocity that she stooped down to the very table. Everyone was silent. Gerasim took up the spoon again and continued to sip the cabbage soup. "Look, deaf devil, goblin!" - they all muttered in an undertone, and the wardrobe lady got up and went into the maid's room. And then another time, noticing that Kapiton, the same Kapiton that was just being discussed, was somehow too kindly breaking up with Tatyana, Gerasim beckoned him to him with his finger, took him to the carriage house and, grabbing the drawbar that was standing in the corner by the end , slightly but significantly threatened him with them. Since then, no one has spoken to Tatyana. And he got away with it all. True, as soon as she ran into the maid's room, the housekeeper immediately fainted and, in general, acted so skillfully that on the same day she brought to the attention of the mistress Gerasim's rude act; but the whimsical old woman only laughed several times, to the extreme insult of the housekeeper, made her repeat how, they say, he bent you down with his heavy hand, and the next day sent Gerasim a ruble. She praised him as a faithful and strong watchman. Gerasim was quite afraid of her, but still he hoped for her mercy and was about to go to her with a request if she would not allow him to marry Tatyana. He was just waiting for a new caftan, promised to him by the butler, in order to appear in decent form before the mistress, when suddenly this very mistress came up with the idea of ​​marrying Tatyana to Kapiton.

The reader will now easily understand the reason for the embarrassment that seized the butler Gavrila after a conversation with the mistress. “Mistress,” he thought, sitting by the window, “of course, favors Gerasim (Gavrila knew this well, and that’s why he indulged him himself), yet he is a dumb creature, you can’t report to the lady that Gerasim, they say, is after Tatiana cares. And, finally, it is fair, what kind of husband is he? But on the other hand, it’s worth it, God forgive me, the goblin to find out that Tatyana is being given out for Kapiton, because he will break everything in the house, really. After all, you will not collide with him; after all, I sinned, a sinner, in no way can you persuade him ... Right ... "

The appearance of Kapiton interrupted the thread of Gavrila's reflections. The frivolous shoemaker entered, throwing his hands back, and, leaning casually against the protruding corner of the wall near the door, placed his right foot crosswise in front of his left and shook his head. Here, they say, I am. What do you need?

Gavrilo looked at Kapiton and tapped his fingers on the window frame. Kapiton only screwed up his pewter eyes a little, but did not lower them, even smiled slightly and ran his hand through his whitish hair, which was ruffled in all directions. Well, yes, I, they say, I am. What are you looking at?

"Good," said Gavrilo, and was silent for a moment. - Okay, nothing to say!

Kapiton just shrugged his shoulders. “And you, I suppose, are better?” he thought to himself.

“Well, look at yourself, well, look,” Gavrilo continued reproachfully: “well, who do you look like?

The captain cast a calm glance over his worn and tattered frock coat, his patched trousers, looked with special attention at his holey boots, especially the one on the toe of which his right leg rested so dapperly, and again stared at the butler.

- And what? - With?

- What? repeated Gavrilo. - What? Still you say: what? You look like the devil, I have sinned, sinner, that's who you look like.

Captain blinked his eyes nimbly.

"Swear, say, swear, Gavrilo Andreevich," he thought to himself.

“After all, you were drunk again,” Gavrilo began, “again, right? A? Well, answer it.

“Due to the weakness of his health, he really was exposed to alcoholic beverages,” Kapiton objected.

- In poor health? You don't get punished enough, that's what. And in St. Petersburg he was still in school ... You learned a lot in school! Just eat bread for nothing.

- In this case, Gavrila Andreevich, there is only one judge for me: the Lord God himself, and no one else. He alone knows what kind of person I am in this world, and whether I eat bread for free. And as for the consideration before drunkenness, then in this case it is not I who is to blame, but more than one comrade; he himself lured me, and he politicized, he left, that is, and I ...

- And you stayed, goose, on the street. Oh, you stupid man! Well, it's not about that, - continued the butler, - but that. The mistress ... - here he paused, - the mistress wants you to marry. Do you hear? They think you'll settle down by getting married. Understand?

- How not to understand, sir.

- Well, yes. In my opinion, it would be better to take you well in hand. Well, it's their business. Well? Do you agree?

The captain grinned.

“Marriage is a good thing for a man, Gavrilo Andreevich; and I, for my part, with my very pleasant pleasure.

- Well, yes, - objected Gavrilo and thought to himself: "There is nothing to say, the man speaks neatly." “Just this,” he continued aloud, “they’ve found a bride that’s not right for you…”

- And what, let me ask you a curiosity ...

- Tatyana.

- Tatyana?

And Kapiton goggled his eyes and separated himself from the wall.

- Well, what are you excited about? Don't you like her?

“What a dislike, Gavrilo Andreevich!” she’s nothing, a worker, a meek girl ... But you yourself know, Gavrilo Andreevich, because that one, the goblin, is a kikimora of the steppe, because he is behind her ...

“I know, brother, I know everything,” the butler interrupted him with annoyance, “but…

- Yes, have mercy, Gavrilo Andreevich! after all, he will kill me, by God, he will kill me, like he will swat some fly; because he has a hand, because you are so kind as to see what kind of hand he has; because he just has Minin and Pozharsky's hand. After all, he is deaf, beats and does not hear how he beats! As if in a dream he is waving his fists. And there is no way to appease him; Why? therefore, you know yourself, Gavrilo Andreevich, he is deaf and, in addition, stupid as a heel. After all, this is some kind of beast, an idol, Gavrilo Andreevich - worse than an idol ... some kind of aspen; why should I suffer from it now? Of course, I don’t care at all now: a man has worn himself out, he has endured, he has oiled himself like a Kolomna pot - nevertheless, I, however, am a man, and not some, in fact, an insignificant pot.

- I know, I know, don't paint ...

- Oh my God! the shoemaker went on ardently, “when is the end?” when, my God! I am a wretch, a wretch that is not original! Fate, my fate, you think! In my early years I was beaten through the German master, in the best joint of my life I was beaten by my own brother, and finally, in my mature years, this is what I rose to ...

“Oh, you bast soul,” said Gavrilo. - What are you spreading, right!

- How what, Gavrilo Andreevich! I'm not afraid of beatings, Gavrilo Andreevich. Punish me, lord in the walls, and give me a greeting in front of people, and I am all among the people, but here it comes from whom ...

“Well, get out,” Gavrilo interrupted him impatiently.

Kapiton turned away and trudged out.

“Let’s suppose he didn’t exist,” the butler called after him, “do you agree yourself?”

“I do,” Kapiton objected, and left.

Eloquence did not leave him even in extreme cases.

The butler paced the room several times.

“Well, call Tatyana now,” he said at last.

A few moments later Tatiana came in barely audibly and stopped at the threshold.

"What do you order, Gavrilo Andreevich?" she said in a low voice.

The butler looked at her intently.

“Well,” he said, “Tanyusha, do you want to get married?” The lady has found a groom for you.

- I'm listening, Gavrilo Andreevich. And who does he appoint me as a suitor? she added with hesitation.

- Kapiton, the shoemaker.

- I'm listening.

“He's a frivolous man, that's for sure. But in this case, the lady is counting on you.

- I'm listening...

- One problem ... after all, this capercaillie, Garaska, he is looking after you. And how did you bewitch this bear to yourself? But he will kill you, perhaps, a kind of bear.

“He will kill you, Gavrilo Andreevich, he will certainly kill you.”

- Kill ... Well, we'll see. As you say: kill. Does he have the right to kill you, judge for yourself.

“But I don’t know, Gavrilo Andreevich, whether he has or not.

- Ekaya! because you didn't promise him anything...

- What do you want, sir?

The butler paused and thought: “You unrequited soul!”

“Well, all right,” he added, “we’ll talk to you again, and now go, Tanyusha; I can see that you are truly humble.

Tatiana turned, leaned lightly on the lintel, and left.

“Maybe the lady will forget about this wedding tomorrow,” thought the butler, “what made me upset? We will twist this mischievous one; If anything, let the police know…”

“Ustinya Fyodorovna,” he shouted in a loud voice to his wife, “set the samovar, my venerable one!”

Tatiana didn't leave the laundry for most of that day. At first she wept, then she wiped away her tears and went on with her work. Kapiton sat up until very late at night in an establishment with some gloomy-looking friend and told him in detail how he lived in St. Petersburg with a certain gentleman, who would have taken everyone, but he was observant of orders and, moreover, made a little mistake: he took a lot with hops. The gloomy comrade only agreed with him; but when Kapiton finally announced that, on one occasion, he must lay a hand on himself the next day, the gloomy comrade remarked that it was time for bed. And they parted rudely and silently.

Meanwhile, the butler's expectations did not come true. The lady was so occupied with the idea of ​​Kapiton's wedding that even at night she only talked about it with one of her companions, who stayed in her house only in case of insomnia and, like a night cabman, slept during the day. When Gavrilo came to her after tea with a report, her first question was: what about our wedding, is it going on? He, of course, answered that he was going as well as possible, and that Kapiton would come to her that very day with a bow. The lady was not feeling well: she did not do business for long. The butler returned to his room and called a council. The matter certainly required a special discussion. Tatyana did not argue, of course, but Kapiton announced publicly that he had one head, and not two or three ... Gerasim looked sternly and quickly at everyone, did not leave the girl's porch and seemed to guess that something was him unkind. The assembled (among them was an old barman, nicknamed Uncle Tail, to whom everyone reverently turned for advice, although they only heard from him that: that's how it is, yes; yes, yes, yes) began by saying that on just in case, for safety, they locked Kapiton in a closet with a water-purifying machine and began to think a strong thought. Of course, it was easy to resort to force; but God save! noise will come out, the lady will be worried - trouble! How to be? They thought and thought and finally figured it out. It was repeatedly noted that Gerasim could not stand drunkards. Sitting outside the gates, he turned away indignantly every time when some loaded person passed him with unsteady steps and with a peaked cap on his ear. They decided to teach Tatyana to pretend to be intoxicated and walk, staggering and swaying, past Gerasim. The poor girl did not agree for a long time, but she was persuaded; moreover, she herself saw that otherwise she would not get rid of her admirer. She went. Kapiton was released from the closet; it was all about him anyway. Gerasim was sitting on a bedside table by the gate, poking the ground with a shovel... People were looking at him from all angles, from under the curtains outside the windows...

The trick worked perfectly. Seeing Tatyana, at first, as usual, he nodded his head with an affectionate lowing; then he peered, dropped the shovel, jumped up, went up to her, moved his face to her very face ... She staggered even more from fear and closed her eyes ... He grabbed her by the arm, rushed across the whole courtyard and, entering with her into the room where he sat advice, pushed her straight to Kapiton. Tatyana just died ... Gerasim stood a moment, looked at her, waved his hand, grinned and went, stepping heavily, to his closet. He didn't leave for the whole day. The postilion Antipka later said that he saw through the crack that Gerasim, sitting on the bed and putting his hand to his cheek, quietly, measuredly and only occasionally lowing, sang, that is, swayed, closed his eyes and shook his head like coachmen or barge haulers when they sing their mournful songs. Antipka became terrified, and he moved away from the gap. When Gerasim left the closet the next day, no particular change could be noticed in him. He only seemed to become more gloomy and did not pay the slightest attention to Tatyana and Kapiton. That same evening they both went to the mistress's with geese under their arms, and a week later they were married. On the very day of the wedding, Gerasim did not change his behavior in anything; only he came from the river without water: he once broke a barrel on the road; and at night in the stable he cleaned and rubbed his horse so diligently that it tottered like a blade of grass in the wind, and waddled from foot to foot under his iron fists.

All this happened in the spring. Another year passed, during which Kapiton completely drank himself with the circle and, as a person decidedly good for nothing, was sent with a wagon train to a distant village along with his wife. On the day of his departure, at first he was very brave and assured that wherever they went, even where the women wash their shirts and put the rolls on the sky, he will not be lost, but then he lost heart, began to complain that he was being taken to uneducated people, and he finally became so weak that he could not even put on his own hat; some compassionate soul pushed it over his forehead, straightened the visor, and slammed it down on top. When everything was ready and the peasants were already holding the reins in their hands and were only waiting for the words: “God bless you!” Gerasim left his closet, approached Tatiana and presented her with a red paper handkerchief, which he had bought for her a year ago. . Tatyana, who up to that moment had endured with great indifference all the vicissitudes of her life, here, however, could not bear it, shed a tear, and, getting into the cart, kissed Gerasim three times in a Christian manner. He wanted to escort her to the outpost and at first went along with her cart, but suddenly stopped at the Crimean Ford, waved his hand and set off along the river.

It was in the evening. He walked quietly and looked at the water. Suddenly it seemed to him that something was floundering in the mud near the shore. He bent down, saw a small puppy, white with black spots, which, despite all his efforts, could not get out of the water, struggled, slithered and trembled with all his wet and thin body. Gerasim looked at the unfortunate little dog, picked it up with one hand, thrust it into his bosom, and set off home with long strides. He went into his closet, laid the saved puppy on the bed, covered him with his heavy coat, ran first to the stable for straw, then to the kitchen for a cup of milk. Carefully throwing back the coat and spreading the straw, he put the milk on the bed. The poor little dog was only three weeks old, and her eyes had recently opened; one eye even seemed a little larger than the other; she still did not know how to drink from a cup and only trembled and screwed up her eyes. Gerasim took her head lightly with two fingers and bent her muzzle to the milk. The dog suddenly began to drink greedily, snorting, shaking and choking. Gerasim looked, looked, and suddenly laughed ... All night he fiddled with her, laid her down, wiped her, and finally fell asleep himself next to her in some kind of joyful and quiet sleep.

No mother takes care of her child the way Gerasim took care of his pet. At first she was very weak, frail and ugly, but little by little she managed and leveled off, and after eight months, thanks to the vigilant care of her savior, she turned into a very fine dog of the Spanish breed, with long ears, a fluffy tail in the form of a pipe and large expressive eyes. . She became passionately attached to Gerasim and did not leave him a single step, she kept walking behind him, wagging her tail. He gave her a nickname - the dumb know that their lowing attracts the attention of others - he called her Mumu. All the people in the house fell in love with her and also called Mumunei. She was extremely intelligent, fond of everyone, but she loved only Gerasim. Gerasim himself loved her without memory ... and it was unpleasant for him when others stroked her: he was afraid, perhaps, for her, was he jealous of her - God knows! She woke him up in the morning, pulling him by the floor, brought to him by the rein an old water cart, with whom she lived in great friendship, with dignity on her face went with him to the river, guarded his brooms and shovels, did not let anyone near his closet. He purposely cut a hole in his door for her. And she seemed to feel that only in Gerasimov's closet she was a complete hostess, and therefore, entering it, she immediately jumped on the bed with a satisfied look. At night she didn’t sleep at all, but she didn’t bark indiscriminately, like that other stupid mongrel who, sitting on her hind legs and lifting her muzzle and closing her eyes, barks simply out of boredom, just like that, at the stars, and usually three times in a row - no! Mumu's thin voice was never heard in vain: either a stranger came close to the fence, or a suspicious noise or rustle rose somewhere ... In a word, she guarded perfectly. True, there was also, besides her, an old dog in the yard, yellow in color, with brown speckles, named Volchok, but he was never, even at night, let off the chain, and he himself, due to his decrepitude, did not demand freedom at all - he lay curled up in his kennel and only occasionally uttered a hoarse, almost soundless bark, which immediately stopped, as if he himself felt all its uselessness. Mumu did not go to the master's house, and when Gerasim carried firewood into the rooms, she always remained behind and impatiently waited for him at the porch, pricking up her ears and turning her head now to the right, then suddenly to the left at the slightest knock at the door.

So another year passed. Gerasim continued his yard work and was very pleased with his fate, when suddenly an unexpected circumstance occurred ... namely: one fine summer day, the lady with her hangers-on was pacing around the living room. She was in good spirits, laughing and joking; the hangers-on laughed and joked too, but they did not feel any special joy: they did not really like it in the house when a merry hour found a mistress, because, firstly, she then demanded immediate and complete sympathy from everyone and became angry if anyone her face did not shine with pleasure, and secondly, these outbursts did not last long and were usually replaced by a gloomy and sour mood. That day she got up somehow happily; on the cards she got four jacks: the fulfillment of desires (she always guessed in the morning), and tea seemed especially tasty to her, for which the maid received praise in words and a dime in money. With a sweet smile on her wrinkled lips, the lady walked around the drawing room and went up to the window. There was a front garden in front of the window, and in the very middle flower bed, under a rose bush, lay Mumu, carefully gnawing at a bone. The lady saw her.

- My God! she suddenly exclaimed, “what kind of dog is that?”

The friend, to whom the mistress turned, rushed about, poor thing, with that dreary anxiety that usually takes possession of a subject person when he does not yet know well how to understand the exclamation of the boss.

“N…n…I don’t know,” she muttered, “I think it’s dumb…”

- My God! the lady interrupted her, “she’s a pretty little dog!” Tell her to bring. How long has she been with him? How can I not see her until now?.. Tell her to bring.

The hanger immediately fluttered into the anteroom.

- Man, man! she screamed. - Bring Mumu as soon as possible! She's in the front garden.

“Ah, her name is Mumu,” said the lady, “a very good name.”

“Ah, very much so,” objected the friend. - Hurry, Stepan!

Stepan, a burly lad who worked as a footman, rushed headlong into the front garden and was about to grab Mumu, but she deftly wriggled out from under his fingers and, raising her tail, launched herself at full speed towards Gerasim, who at that time was knocking out and shook out the barrel, turning it over in his hands like a child's drum. Stepan ran after her, began to catch her at the very feet of her master; but the nimble dog did not fall into the hands of a stranger, jumped and dodged. Gerasim looked with a grin at all this fuss; Finally, Stepan got up in annoyance and hastily explained to him by signs that the mistress, they say, wanted your dog to come to her. Gerasim was a little surprised, but he called Mumu, picked her up from the ground and handed her over to Stepan. Stepan brought it into the living room and put it on the parquet. The lady began to call her to her in an affectionate voice. Mumu, who had not yet been in such magnificent chambers, was very frightened and rushed to the door, but, pushed away by the obliging Stepan, she trembled and pressed herself against the wall.

“Mumu, Mumu, come to me, come to the mistress,” said the lady, “come, silly ... don’t be afraid ...

“Come, come, Mumu, to the mistress,” the accusers repeated, “come.

The history of the legendary SMERSH, rightfully considered the best military counterintelligence in the world, did not end in 1946, when the GUKP "Death to spies!" was officially disbanded - the veterans of this formidable department and their young colleagues, employees of the Third Directorate and the Special Departments of the KGB, continued the secret war against the new enemy - the US intelligence services. In subsequent years, our military security officers managed to neutralize and neutralize virtually all American "moles" in the GRU.

The author of this book, a veteran of military counterintelligence, personally participated in operations to expose GRU personnel who embarked on the path of betrayal, and in his unique study, in detail and accurately, in the smallest detail, he spoke about this most difficult work, many of the nuances of which have only now been declassified. Here, for the first time, the details of the hunt for the main American "mole" - agent "Bourbon", Major General of the GRU D. M. Polyakov, who collaborated with the CIA for more than a quarter of a century, were revealed, but in the end was exposed by our counterintelligence, detained, convicted and shot.

Anatoly Tereshchenko
The heirs of SMERSH
Hunt for American "moles" in the GRU

Part one
Hunting Spies

There are crimes that cannot be redeemed - this is treason to the motherland.

Foreword

The motherland, like the mother, is not chosen. It is given from birth. The Great Motherland, no matter what anyone says, begins with the Small. With the one where you were born, where your childhood passed, where your parents and distant ancestors live or lived, where for the first time you felt strong, able to protect your near and dear - relatives, friend, father's house, native land.

Parents are dear to us, children and grandchildren are dear, relatives and friends are close. But all ideas about love for them are combined in one word - Fatherland!

"What an honest man," said Cicero, "would hesitate to die for her, if he could be of any use in doing so." Unfortunately, new times have made many adjustments to this aphorism.

I do not accept temporary politicians who care only about their own well-being, confusing power with business. But the strength of patriotism directly depends on people's faith in the integrity and honesty, courage and calmness of their crowned bearers, whose words should be organically woven into deeds aimed at the prosperity of the state.

For military people, connecting word and deed into a single knot, patriotism is the protection of the state from external encroachments. For military counterintelligence officers, it is primarily to ensure the security of units and subunits, their think tanks - headquarters of all levels and the fight against enemy actions of foreign intelligence services to introduce their agents into the troops.

For more than a quarter of a century, the author of these lines has been involved in operational activities in the military counterintelligence system. Most of the service was given to the counterintelligence support of the GRU of the General Staff of the USSR Armed Forces - one of the main objects of the US CIA's priority aspirations. During the period from the 70s to the 90s, the military security officers managed to identify and neutralize a number of agents of the enemy special services from among the Soviet military. All, without exception, these were people who went to betrayal for selfish reasons.

The events described in the book are based on documentary materials. However, for operational and ethical reasons, the names of some heroes and anti-heroes, as well as the names of the places of events, have been changed. They are marked with asterisks.

The purpose of what was written is not only to popularize the high professional level of colleagues who are now slandered by the "fourth power". The main thing is a warning that as long as states exist, regardless of the “warmth” of relations between their leaders, intelligence services will actively function, using the most advanced technologies and achievements of the human mind on the invisible battlefields. The author of these lines did everything he could to resurrect the fights between the military counterintelligence and the US intelligence services in the retreating 1980s. Who can, let him do better.

To indulge oneself in the parity reduction of efforts to "know more about a partner" is the greatest delusion. Preventing foreign intelligence agencies from searching for state secrets is the most important task of the counterintelligence agencies of any state.

The book shows the specific work of military counterintelligence officers of the last years of the existence of our common Motherland - the USSR. The author reflects on politics, the role of the individual in history, shows fragments of the events of 1991 and 1993, which buried faith in the purity of power.

Unfortunately, during the years of "reformation" many chances to establish a normal life were missed. We did not look for our own way in the treatment of social ailments, but we all hoped for a foreign therapist. But such Aesculapius helped only in disarming the army and pumping out natural resources.

To finish off the former greatness of the superpower, which the whole world reckoned with, is the main task of the guardians of Russian well-being in the field of "freedoms and democracy." These puppeteers, through their obedient puppets, have already done a lot of things that the peoples of Russia will have to rake for decades to restore the previous level of human existence.

Three times right is the great philosopher of our time Alexander Zinoviev, who said that the "perestroika" and "reformers" caused harm to ordinary people a hundred times more than the Stalinists.

The history of Russia is the history of an almost constantly besieged fortress. Wars exhausted and tempered her at the same time. Just think: from 1365 to 1893, that is, for more than 500 years, Russia, according to historians, spent 305 years in wars. The spirit, faith and state organization helped to defeat the enemies. Today, Russia is only collecting its thoughts and preparing for deeds, which are overwhelmed by the recent "democratic" madness.

Often people ask the question: what is the difference between a spy and a scout? This question was once exactly answered by the American researcher of "battlefields on invisible fronts" Kurt Singer. In particular, he said: "All enemy agents are spies, all ours are scouts." We often argue in the same way, only with the opposite sign.



The story (story) by I.S. Turgenev "Mumu" was written in 1852, when the writer was under arrest for publishing an obituary on the death of N.V. Gogol, forbidden by the government.

The plot of the little story is extremely simple: the deaf-mute serf janitor Gerasim got himself a dog, Mumu, and his fastidious mistress, an old lady, ordered to get rid of her. Gerasim carried out the order by drowning Mumu in the river with his own hands. He refused to serve as a janitor in the lady's house and went to the village.

For more than a century and a half, naive five-graders have been crying over the fate of an innocently drowned dog. Older students and schoolchildren practice wit, playing up the story about Gerasim and Mumu in playful songs and anecdotes. To this day, officials from the Ministry of Education believe that any work about animals belongs to the category of children's literature, and stubbornly recommend "studying" I.S. Turgenev's "Muma" in elementary school.

For a century and a half, we have all become accustomed to considering the work of the Russian classic only a simple story with a simple plot and a tragic end. In Soviet times, the "anti-serfdom orientation" of the story was added to this, considering "Muma" almost an accidental work in the writer's work. Not every elementary school teacher could explain to the students why the nobleman and large landowner I.S. Turgenev undertook to denounce the vices of his contemporary system.

Meanwhile, "Mumu" is by no means an accidental "test of the pen" of a bored prisoner, not an attempt to simply "kill" time in the period between writing serious novels. The story "Mumu" is one of the most powerful, deeply sincere and in many ways biographical works of I.S. Turgenev. Perhaps the writer has not spilled anything more personal and sore on paper in his entire long creative life. "Mumu" is not written for children at all, and its too long backstory is much more tragic than, in fact, the plain plot itself.

Heroes and prototypes

Gerasim

In any modern textbook on literature, it is said that the story of I.S. Turgenev's "Mumu" was based on real events. This is confirmed by the memoirs of contemporaries, friends, acquaintances and relatives of the writer. All of them, as one, recognized in the "old lady" Varvara Petrovna - the mother of I.S. Turgenev, and in Gerasim her serf Andrei, who served as a janitor and stoker at the manor's house either in Moscow, or in the Spasskoye-Lutovinovo estate.

One of the writer's relatives (the daughter of his uncle - N. N. Turgenev) in unpublished memoirs reported about Andrei: "he was a handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes, of enormous growth and with the same strength, he lifted ten pounds" (Konusevich E. N. Memoirs. - GBL, fund 306, room 3, item 13).

Information about Andrei (the prototype of Gerasim) is also contained in one of the economic inventories of V.P. Turgeneva (1847), stored in the museum of I.S. Turgenev in Orel. On page 33 of this inventory, it appears that 20 arshins were given to a "black lace" to "a mute janitor for finishing a red shirt" (reported by A. I. Popyatovsky, head of the museum's funds). V.N. Zhitova, the half-sister of I.S. Turgenev, writes that Andrei, after the story of the drowning of the dog, continued to faithfully serve his mistress until her death.

When the old woman Turgenev died, the deaf-mute janitor did not want to remain in the service of any of the heirs, took his freedom and went to the village.

Varvara Petrovna Turgeneva, nee Lutovinova (1787-1850) - the mother of I.S. Turgenev, was a very, very outstanding woman for her time.

Varvara Petrovna Turgeneva

Petr Andreevich Lutovinov, the writer's grandfather, died two months before the birth of his daughter Varvara. Until the age of eight, the girl lived with her aunts in Petrovsky. Later, her mother, Ekaterina Ivanovna Lavrova, married a second time to the nobleman Somov, a widower with two daughters. Life in a strange house turned out to be hard for Varvara, and at the age of 16, after the death of her mother, she, half-dressed, jumped out the window and ran away from her tyrant-stepfather to her uncle Ivan Ivanovich in Spasskoye-Lutovinovo. If not for this desperate step, Varvara would surely have been destined for the bitter lot of an unfortunate dowry, but she herself changed her fate. A rich and childless uncle, although without much joy, took his niece under his protection. He died in 1813, leaving Varvara Petrovna all his considerable fortune. At the age of 28, the old maid Lutovinova became the richest bride in the region and even managed to unite in her hands the inheritance of numerous branches of her family. Her wealth was enormous: only in the Oryol estates there were 5 thousand souls of serfs, and in addition to Oryol, there were also villages in the Kaluga, Tula, Tambov, Kursk provinces. One piece of silverware in Spassky-Lutovinovo turned out to be 60 pounds, and the capital accumulated by Ivan Ivanovich was more than 600 thousand rubles.

As a husband, Varvara Petrovna chose for herself the one whom she herself wanted - the 22-year-old handsome Sergei Nikolayevich Turgenev, a descendant of a noble, but long-impoverished family. In 1815, a hussar regiment was quartered in Orel. Lieutenant Turgenev came to Spasskoe as a repairman (purchaser of horses), and the local landowner - an ugly but rich old maid - "bought" him for herself as an expensive toy.

However, some contemporaries assured that their marriage was happy. Indeed, for a very short time.

I.S. Turgenev wrote about his parents, bringing them out in "First Love":

"My father, a man still young and very handsome, married her by calculation: she was ten years older than him. My mother led a sad life: she was constantly worried, jealous ..."

In fact, Varvara Petrovna did not lead any "sad" life.

Her behavior simply did not fit into the generally accepted stereotype of the behavior of a woman in the early 19th century. Memoirists report Turgeneva as a very extravagant, very independent lady. She did not differ in outward beauty, her character was really difficult and extremely contradictory, but at the same time, in Varvara Petrovna, some researchers nevertheless considered "an intelligent, developed woman, unusually fluent in words, witty, sometimes playfully joking, sometimes menacingly angry and always passionately loving mother". She was known as an interesting interlocutor, it is no coincidence that her circle of acquaintances included even such famous poets as V. A. Zhukovsky and I. Dmitriev.

Rich material for the characterization of Varvara Turgeneva is contained in her hitherto unpublished letters and diaries. The influence of the mother on the future writer is undoubted: both the picturesque style and the love of nature passed from her to him.

Varvara Petrovna had masculine habits: she loved to ride, practiced shooting from a carbine, went hunting with men and skillfully played billiards. Needless to say, such a woman felt like a sovereign mistress not only in her estates, but also in her family. Plaguing her weak-willed, weak-willed husband with far from unfounded jealousy and suspicions, she herself was not a faithful wife. In addition to three sons born in marriage, Varvara Petrovna had an illegitimate daughter from the doctor A.E. Bers (father of S.A. Bers - later the wife of L.N. Tolstoy). The girl was recorded as the daughter of a neighbor on the estate - Varvara Nikolaevna Bogdanovich (married - V.N. Zhitova). From birth, she lived in the Turgenevs' house in the position of a pupil. "Pupil" Varvara Petrovna loved and spoiled much more than her legitimate sons. Everyone in the family knew about the true origin of Varenka, but no one dared to reproach her mother for immoral behavior: "what is allowed to Jupiter is not allowed to the bull."

In 1834 Turgenev was widowed. At the time of her husband's death, she was abroad, and did not come to the funeral. Subsequently, the rich widow did not even bother to install a tombstone on her husband's grave. "Father doesn't need anything in the grave," she assured her son Ivan.

As a result, the grave of I.S. Turgenev's father was lost.

Sons - Nikolai, Ivan and Sergey - grew up as "mama's sons" and at the same time - victims of her difficult, contradictory disposition.

“I have nothing to remember my childhood,” Turgenev said many years later. “Not a single bright memory. I was afraid of my mother like fire. I was punished for every trifle - in a word, they drilled like a recruit. to ask why I was punished, my mother categorically stated: "You better know about it, guess."

However, Varvara Petrovna never skimped on teachers and did everything to give her sons a good European education. But when they grew up, they began to "self-will", the mother, quite naturally, did not want to come to terms with this. She loved her sons very much and sincerely believed that she had every right to control their destinies, as she controlled the fates of her serfs.

Her youngest son Sergei, being sick from birth, died at the age of 16. The elder Nikolai angered his mother by marrying her maid without permission. Nikolai's military career did not work out, and for a long time he was financially dependent on the whims of his aging mother. Until the end of her life, Varvara Petrovna strictly controlled the family finances. Ivan, who lived abroad, was also completely dependent on her and was often forced to beg his mother for money. To the son's studies in literature V.P. Turgeneva was very skeptical, even laughed at him.

By old age, the character of Varvara Petrovna deteriorated even more. There were legends about the quirks of the Spassky landowner. For example, she started the custom of raising two tribal flags over her house - the Lutovinovs and the Turgenevs. When the flags proudly fluttered over the roof, the neighbors could safely come for a visit: they were expected by a kind welcome and a generous treat. If the flags were lowered, this meant that the hostess was not in a good mood, and Turgeneva's house should be bypassed.

This story has gained wide popularity. Varvara Petrovna was terrified of the pathogenic bacteria of cholera and ordered her servants to come up with something so that she could walk without inhaling the contaminated air. The carpenter built a glazed box, similar to those in which miraculous icons were transferred from temple to temple. The servants successfully dragged the landowner in this box around the neighborhood of Spassky-Lutovinovo until some fool decided that they were carrying an icon: he put a copper penny on a stretcher in front of Varvara Petrovna. The lady went berserk. The unfortunate carpenter was flogged in the stable and exiled to a distant village, and Turgeneva ordered his creation to be broken and burned.

Sometimes Varvara Petrovna showed magnanimity and generosity to her loved ones: she herself volunteered to pay debts, wrote tender letters, etc. But generous handouts, like the often unjustified stinginess of the mother, only insulted and humiliated her adult children. Once Turgeneva wanted to give each son an estate, but she was in no hurry to draw up a deed of gift. In addition, she sold all the crops and supplies that were stored in the village barns, so that there was nothing left for the future sowing. The brothers refused a gift that their mother could take away from them at any moment. Outraged I.S. Turgenev shouted: “Who are you not torturing? Everyone! Who breathes freely around you? [...] You can understand that we are not children, that your act is offensive to us. power over us. We have always been your respectful sons, but you have no faith in us, and you have no faith in anyone or anything. You only believe in your power. And what did it give you? The right to torture everyone. "

While mother was in good health and ruled, the life of the Turgenev brothers, by and large, was not much different from the life of serf slaves. Of course, they were not forced to take revenge on the yard, to heat stoves or to work out corvee, but otherwise, there could be no question of any freedom of personal choice.

Mu Mu

On April 26, 1842, Avdotya Ermolaevna Ivanova, a freelance seamstress, gave birth to a daughter, Pelageya, from Ivan Turgenev. The excited Turgenev informed Varvara Petrovna about this and asked for her indulgence.

"You're strange," his mother affectionately answered him, "I don't see any sin on your part, or on her part. It's a simple physical attraction."

Polina Turgeneva

With or without Turgenev's participation, Pelageya was taken away from her mother, brought to Spasskoe-Lutovinovo, and placed in the family of a serf laundress. Knowing his mother, Ivan Sergeevich could hardly count on a good attitude towards the "bastard". Nevertheless, he agreed with Varvara Petrovna's decision and soon went abroad, where his well-known romance with Polina Viardot began.

Well, why not Gerasim, who drowned his Mumu and calmly returned to his usual village life? ..

Of course, the girl had a hard time. All the courtyards mockingly called her "young lady", and the washerwoman forced her to do hard work. Varvara Petrovna did not feel kindred feelings for her granddaughter, sometimes ordered her to be brought into the living room and asked with feigned bewilderment: "Tell me, who does this girl look like" and ... sent her back to the laundress.

Ivan Sergeevich suddenly remembered his daughter when she was eight years old.

The first mention of Pelageya is found in a letter from Turgenev dated July 9 (21), 1850, addressed to Polina and her husband Louis Viardot: "... I'll tell you what I found here - guess what? - my daughter, 8 years old, strikingly me like... Looking at this poor little creature, [...] I felt my duties towards her, and I will fulfill them - she will never know poverty, I will arrange her life in the best possible way ... " .

Of course, the romantic game of "ignorance" and an unexpected "find" was started exclusively for Messrs. Viardot. Turgenev understood the ambiguity of the position of his illegitimate daughter in his family and in Russia in general. But while Varvara Petrovna was alive, despite all her terrible attitude towards her granddaughter, Turgenev did not dare to take the girl and "arrange her life."

In the summer of 1850, the situation changed radically. Varvara Petrovna was very ill, her days were numbered. With her death, it became possible not only to give her unfortunate Pelageya-Muma into good hands, but also to offer maintenance to the Viardot family.

Then he writes to the Viardot couple: "Give me advice - everything that comes from you is full of kindness and such sincerity [...] So, isn't it true, I can count on good advice, which I blindly follow, I tell you in advance" .

In a response letter, Pauline Viardot suggested that Turgenev take the girl to Paris and raise her with her daughters.

The writer happily agreed. In 1850, Polina Turgeneva left Russia forever and settled in the house of a famous singer.

When, after many years of separation, Turgenev arrived in France, he already saw his daughter as a fourteen-year-old young lady who had almost completely forgotten the Russian language:

"My daughter makes me very happy. She completely forgot Russian - and I'm glad about it. She has no reason to remember the language of the country to which she will never return."

However, Polina never took root in a strange family. Viardot - in fact, completely strangers to her, were not at all obliged to love their pupil, as Turgenev would have liked. They took upon themselves only the duties of education, having received a considerable material reward for this. As a result, the girl turned out to be a hostage to difficult, in many ways unnatural relationships in the family triangle of I.S. Turgenev - Louis and Pauline Viardot.

Constantly feeling her orphanhood, she was jealous of her father for Pauline Viardot, and soon hated not only her father's mistress, but her entire environment. Turgenev, blinded by love for Viardot, understood this far from immediately. He looked for the causes of conflicts in the character of his daughter, reproached her for ingratitude and selfishness:

"You are touchy, vain, stubborn and secretive. You don't like to be told the truth... You are jealous... You are incredulous..." etc.

Countess E.E. Lambert, he wrote: “I have seen my daughter quite a lot lately - and I recognized her. With a great resemblance to me, she is a completely different nature from me: there is not a trace of an artistic beginning in her; she is very positive, endowed with common sense: she will be good a wife, a kind mother of a family, an excellent hostess - everything romantic, dreamy is alien to her: she has a lot of insight and silent observation, she will be a woman with rules and a religious ... She will probably be happy ... She loves me passionately.

Monument to Mumu on the banks of the English Channel
in Anfleur

Yes, the daughter in no way shared either the interests or the personal sympathies of her famous father. The matter ended with the fact that Polina was placed in a boarding house, after which she settled separately from the Viardot family. In 1865, Polina Turgeneva got married, gave birth to two children, but the marriage was unsuccessful. Her husband Gaston Brewer soon went bankrupt, spending even the funds that were determined by I.S. Turgenev for the maintenance of his grandchildren. On the advice of her father, Polina took the children and ran away from her husband. Almost all her life she was forced to hide in Switzerland, because. under French law, Brewer had every right to return his wife home. I.S. Turgenev took upon himself all the costs of arranging his daughter in a new place, and until the end of his life he paid her a permanent allowance. After the death of his father, P. Viardot became his legal heir. The daughter tried to challenge her rights, but lost the process, left with two children without a livelihood. She died in 1918 in Paris, in complete poverty.

Some other minor characters in the story "Mumu" also had their own prototypes. So, in the "Book for recording the malfunctions of my people ...", which was kept by V.P. Turgeneva in 1846 and 1847, there is an entry confirming that the drunkard Kapiton was indeed among her servants: "Kapito came to me yesterday, from he smells like wine, it’s impossible to speak and order - I kept silent, it’s boring to repeat the same thing. ”(IRLP. R. II, op. 1, no. 452, l. 17).

V. N. Zhitova names Anton Grigorievich, a barman in Spassky, as the prototype of Uncle Khvost, who was "a man of remarkable cowardice." And Turgenev portrayed his half-brother, paramedic P.T. Kudryashov, in the person of the doctor of the old lady - Khariton (see: Volkova T.N.V.N. Zhitova and her memoirs.).

The reaction of contemporaries

The story "Mumu" became known to contemporaries even before publication. Reading the story by the author made a very strong impression on the listeners and raised questions about the prototypes, the real basis of the work, about the reasons for the lyrical sympathy with which Turgenev surrounds his hero.

For the first time, the writer read his new story in St. Petersburg, in particular, with his distant relative A. M. Turgenev. His daughter, O. A. Turgeneva, wrote in her Diary:

"...AND<ван>WITH<ергеевич>brought his story "Mumu" in manuscript; reading it made a very strong impression on everyone who listened to him that evening.<...>The whole next day I was under the impression of this simple story. And how much depth there is in it, what sensitivity, what understanding of spiritual experiences. I have never seen anything like it in other writers, even in my favorite Dickens, I do not know a thing that I could consider equal to "Mum". What a humane, good person one must be in order to understand and convey the experiences and torments of another's soul in such a way.

Memoirs of E. S. Ilovaiskaya (Somova) about I. S. Turgenev. - T Sat, no. 4, p. 257 - 258.

The reading of "Mumu" also took place in Moscow, where Turgenev stopped for a short while, passing into exile - from St. Petersburg to Spasskoye. This is evidenced by E. M. Feoktistov, who on September 12 (24), 1852 wrote to Turgenev from the Crimea: "... do me a favor, order to rewrite your story, which was read to us for the last time in Moscow at Granovsky and then at Shchepkin, and send it to me here. All who live here are eager to read it" (IRLI, f. 166, no. 1539, fol. 47v.).

In June 1852, Turgenev informed S. T., I. S. and K. S. Aksakov from Spassky that for the second book of the Moscow Collection he had a "small thing" written "under arrest", which pleased his friends and himself. In conclusion, the writer pointed out: "... but, firstly, it seems to me that they will not let her through, and secondly, don't you think that I need to be silent for a while?" The manuscript of the story was sent to I. S. Aksakov, who wrote to Turgenev on October 4 (16), 1852: “Thank you for Mumu; I will certainly put it in the Collection, if only I will be allowed to publish the Collection, and if not it is forbidden to print your writings at all" (Rus Obozr, 1894, No. 8, p. 475). However, as I. S. Aksakov foresaw, the Moscow Collection (the second book) was banned by the censors on March 3 (15), 1853.

Nevertheless, the story "Mumu" was published in the third book of Nekrasov's "Contemporary" for 1854. This could seem like a miracle: at the time of the greatest intensification of government reaction, at the very end of the "gloomy seven years" (1848-1855), when even Nekrasov was forced to fill the pages of his "Contemporary" with problem-free commercial novels, a work suddenly comes out that exposes the viciousness of serf relations.

In fact, there was no miracle. Sufficiently "lured" by Nekrasov, censor V.N. Beketov, who at that time was in charge of Sovremennik, pretended not to understand the true meaning of the story about the drowning of a dog and let Mumu go to print. Meanwhile, his other colleagues caught the "forbidden" anti-serfdom theme in Turgenev's work, which they were not slow to inform fellow Minister of Education A.S. Norov. But the St. Petersburg Censorship Committee then only slightly scolded the bribe-taker Beketov, instructing him to continue to "consider stricter submitted articles for journals and be generally more circumspect ..." (Oksman Yu. G. I. S. Turgenev. Research and materials. Odessa, 1921 Issue 1, p. 54).

V.N. Beketov, as you know, did not heed this advice, and in 1863, with his connivance, N.A. Nekrasov managed to smuggle into print a real "time bomb" - the novel by N.G. Chernyshevsky "What to do?".

In 1856, when P.V. Anenkov "Tales and Stories" by I.S. Turgenev, again there were difficulties with permission to include the story "Mumu" in the collection. However, on May 5 (17), 1856, the Main Directorate of Censorship allowed the reprinting of "Mumu", rightly judging that the ban on this story "could draw the attention of the reading public to it more and arouse inappropriate talk, while the appearance of it in the collected works would not produce any more readers of the impression that could be feared from the distribution of this story in the journal, with the lure of novelty "(Oksman Yu. G., op. cit., p. 55).

After the abolition of serfdom, the censors no longer saw anything "criminal" in the story "Mumu". In addition, it was published earlier, because "Mumu" was freely allowed to be included in all lifetime collected works of the author.

"Mumu" in the assessment of critics

It is also interesting that even the first critics interpreted the meaning of I.S. Turgenev's story "Mumu" in completely different ways.

The Slavophiles saw in the image of the deaf-mute Gerasim the personification of the entire Russian people. In a letter to Turgenev dated October 4 (16), 1852, I.S. Aksakov wrote:

“I don’t need to know: is it fiction, or is it a fact, whether the janitor Gerasim really existed or not. Under the janitor Gerasim, something else is meant. to all requests, his moral, honest motives ... He, of course, will speak with time, but now, of course, he may seem both dumb and deaf ... "

Russian Review, 1894, No. 8. p. 475 - 476).

In a reply letter dated December 28, 1852 (January 9, 1853), Turgenev agreed: "You have correctly captured the idea of ​​Mumu."

There is no "anti-serfdom", and even more revolutionary orientation in the story of I.S. and K.S. The Aksakovs did not notice. Welcoming Turgenev's appeal to the depiction of folk life, K.S. Aksakov in his "Review of Modern Literature" pointed out that "Mumu" and "Inn" mark "a decisive step forward" in Turgenev's work. According to the critic, “these stories are higher than the Hunter’s Notes, both in a more sober, more mature and more full-fledged word, and in depth of content, especially the second one. Here Mr. Turgenev treats the people with incomparable greater sympathy and understanding than before ; the author scooped up this living water of the people more deeply. The face of Gerasim in Mumu, the face of Akim in the Inn - these are already typical, deeply significant faces, especially the second "(Rus conversation, 1857, vol. I, book 5, section IV, p. 21).

In 1854, when "Mumu" had just appeared in Sovremennik, the review of the reviewer of "Pantheon" was quite positive, thanking the editors for publishing this "beautiful story" - "a simple story about the love of a poor deaf-mute janitor for a dog killed by an evil and capricious old woman ..." (Pantheon, 1854, vol. XIV, March, book 3, section IV, p. 19).

The critic of Otechestvennye Zapiski, A. Kraevsky, pointed to Mumu as "an example of an excellent finishing of a conceived thought", while finding that the plot of the story is "insignificant" (Otechestvennye Zapiski, 1854, No. 4, section IV, p. 90 - 91).

B. N. Almazov wrote about "Mumu" as an "unsuccessful literary work". He believed that the plot of this story, in contrast to the former naturalness and simplicity that distinguished Turgenev's stories, was unnecessarily overloaded with external effects: "the incident told in it decisively goes beyond the series of ordinary events of human life in general and Russian life in particular." Almazov noted the similarity of the plot of "Mumu" with the plots of some "naturalistic" French authors who filled the pages of Western magazines. The purpose of such works, according to the reviewer, was to shock the reader with something out of the ordinary: the naturalism of the scenes, the harsh tragedy of the finale, i.e. by the fact that at the end of the 20th century it was called the capacious, but exhaustive word "chernukha". And although Turgenev has "a lot of good details" related to "the setting of the described event." Almazov believed that they did not smooth out the "unpleasant impression that the plot makes."

After the publication of the three-volume "Tales and Stories of I. S. Turgenev" (St. Petersburg, 1856), several more articles about "Mumu" appeared in journals, written mostly by critics of liberal or conservative trends. Once again, there was no consensus among critics.

Some (for example, A.V. Druzhinin) considered Turgenev’s “Muma” and “Inn” to be works “excellently told”, but representing “the interest of a clever anecdote, nothing more” (Library of Reading, 1857, No. 3, div. V , p. 18).

S. S. Dudyshkin criticized the writers of the natural school in general and Turgenev in particular in his Notes of the Fatherland. He brought Mumu closer to Biryuk and other stories from the Hunter's Notes, as well as to DV Grigorovich's Bobyl and Anton Goremyka. According to Dudyshkin, the writers of the natural school "took the trouble of transforming economic ideas into literary ideas, expounding economic phenomena in the form of stories, novels and dramas." In conclusion, the critic wrote that "it is impossible to make literature a servant of exclusively special social issues, as in Notes of a Hunter" and "Mumu" .

Revolutionary democracy approached the evaluation of the story from completely different positions. A. I. Herzen expressed his impression of reading "Mumu" in a letter to Turgenev dated March 2, 1857: "The other day I read aloud "Mumu" and the conversation of the master with the servant and the coachman ("Conversation on the High Road") - a miracle how good, and especially Mumu" (Herzen, vol. XXVI, p. 78).

In December of the same year, in the article "About a novel from folk life in Russia (a letter to the translator "Rybakov")" Herzen wrote about "Mumu": "Turgenev<...>I was not afraid to look into the stuffy closet of the courtyard, where there is only one consolation - vodka. He described to us the existence of this Russian “Uncle Tom” with such artistic skill that, having withstood double censorship, makes us shudder with rage at the sight of this heavy, inhuman suffering ... "(ibid., vol. XIII, p. 177) .

"Shudling with rage" at the sight of inhuman suffering, with the light hand of Herzen, and then Nekrasov and Chernyshevsky, firmly entered Russian literature of the 19th century. Dissertation N.G. Chernyshevsky "The Aesthetic Relationship of Art to Reality" for many years became the catechism of all writers and artists who want to make the viewer and reader constantly shudder from the "realistic" reflection of other people's suffering in art. The prosperous majority of Russian educated society then still decisively lacked their own suffering.

Why did Gerasim drown Mumu?

In our opinion, the story "Mumu" is one of the best, if not the best work of I.S. Turgenev. Just in everyday details, which are described by the author somewhat casually, and sometimes completely fantastic, she loses to some other short stories and stories of the writer. Turgenev himself, perhaps, deliberately did not attach special importance to them, because the story "Mumu" has nothing to do with realistic pictures of the description of people's suffering, or with revolutionary denunciations of serfdom.

"Mumu" is one of the attempts of Turgenev the humanist to embody in literature his own spiritual experience of what he experienced, to bring it to the reader's judgment, perhaps to suffer it again and at the same time free himself from it.

Taking as a basis a case from the life of a courtyard of his mother, I.S. Turgenev, consciously or not, made Gerasim the closest character to the author of the story - a kind, sympathetic person, able to perceive the world around him in his own way and enjoy its beauty and harmony in his own way. In a word, a dumb righteous man, a blessed cripple, equally endowed with physical strength and a healthy moral nature. And this man, on orders from above, kills the only living creature that he loves - Mumu.

For what?

Soviet literary criticism clearly saw in the murder of a dog a reflection of the very nature of the slavish essence of a serf. A slave has no right to reason, be offended, act at his own discretion. He must follow orders. But how, then, to explain the subsequent departure, in fact, the escape of the humble slave Gerasim from the manor's residence?

This is precisely where the main stumbling block lies: the discrepancy between the motive, the consequence and the main result. The ending of the story, as evidence of Gerasim's personal rebellion, completely contradicts everything that the author said about this character on the previous pages. It completely crosses out the righteousness and meekness of Gerasim, as a symbolic personification of the Russian people, deprives him of the image of proximity to the highest truth, which is completely inaccessible to the educated intellectual-intellectual, poisoned by the poison of disbelief.

In the mind of a simple serf peasant, his mistress, an old lady, is the same mother, rebelling against whom is the same as rebelling against God, against nature itself, against the higher forces that control all life on Earth. It is we, the readers, who see in the heroine of "Muma" only a grumpy, wayward old woman. And for all the surrounding characters, she is the center of their personal universe. Turgenev perfectly showed that all life in the house revolves around the whims of a capricious lady: all the inhabitants (manager, servants, companions, accustomers) are subject to her desires and her will.

The story of Gerasim and Mumu is in many ways reminiscent of the well-known biblical story from the Old Testament about Abraham and his son Isaac. God (the old lady) orders the righteous Abraham (Gerasim) to sacrifice his only, dearly beloved son Isaac (Mumu). The righteous Abraham meekly takes his son and goes to the mountain to sacrifice him. At the last moment, the biblical God replaces Isaac with a lamb, and everything ends well.

But in the story with Mumu, the all-powerful God does not cancel anything. Gerasim-Abraham sacrifices to God the one he loves. The hand of a righteous man, a servant of God and a servant of his mistress, should not have trembled, and did not tremble. Only faith in the lady - as the embodiment of the all-good, all-generous, just God - was shaken forever.

The flight of Gerasim resembles the flight of a child from parents who treated him unfairly. Offended and discouraged, he overthrows the former idols from the pedestal and runs wherever his eyes look.

The real janitor Andrei could not do this. He killed a creature dear to him, but did not become an apostate, he served his God (Varvara Petrovna) to the very end. This is how a true righteous person should behave. True love for God is higher than personal attachments, doubts, resentments. Thoughts about apostasy, replacing one God with another could only arise in the head of a slave who knows for sure about the existence of other gods. This means he has freedom of choice.

The main theme of the story - spiritual slavery, poisoning the very essence of human nature, is revealed by the humanist Turgenev using the example of people born as slaves. But its ending is inspired by the thoughts and feelings of a person who is constantly weighed down by this slavery, who wants to be freed from it. All people who knew Turgenev considered him to be a quite prosperous wealthy gentleman, a large landowner and a famous writer. Few of his contemporaries could have imagined that until more than thirty years old the writer lived and felt like a real slave, deprived of the opportunity to act at his own discretion, even in insignificant trifles.

After the death of his mother, I.S. Turgenev received his share of the inheritance and absolute freedom of action, but all his life he behaved as if he did not know what to do with this freedom. Instead of "squeezing a slave out of himself drop by drop", as A.P. Chekhov tried to do, Turgenev subconsciously, without realizing it, was looking for a new God, the service of which would justify his own existence. But daughter Polina, for the first time abandoned by her father in Russia, for the second time was abandoned by him in France, in the house of strangers to her. Friendship with Nekrasov and cooperation in the radical magazine "Sovremennik" ended in scandal, breakup, writing "Fathers and Sons", reassessment of everything that connected I.S. Turgenev with the fate of Russia and its long-suffering people. Love for Pauline Viardot resulted in eternal escapes and returns, life "on the edge of someone else's nest", maintenance of the family of the former singer and subsequent squabbles between relatives and Viardot's "widow" when dividing the legacy of the deceased classic.

A slave does not become free with the death of his master. I. S. Turgenev remained free only in his work, the main period of which fell on a difficult era of sharp ideological clashes in the socio-political life of Russia. Defending his "liberalism of the old style", Turgenev more than once found himself between two fires, but he was always extremely honest, guided when writing his works not by political conjuncture or literary fashion, but by what his heart dictated, full of intelligent love for a person, homeland, nature, beauty and art. Perhaps it was in this that I.S. Turgenev found his new God and served him not out of fear of inevitable punishment, but only by calling, out of great love.

"Mumu" in world literature

In terms of the number of translations into foreign languages ​​that appeared during Turgenev's lifetime, "Mumu" ranks first among the novels and short stories of the 1840s and early 1850s. Already in 1856, in the "Revue des Deux Mondes" (1856, vol. II, Livraison 1-er Mars), an abridged translation of the story into French, made by Charles de Saint-Julien, was printed. A complete authorized translation of "Mumu" was published two years later in the first French collection of novels and short stories by Turgenev, translated by Ks. Marmier. From this edition, the first German translation of "Mumu" was made, carried out by Mathilde Bodenstedt and edited by Fr. Bodenstedt (her husband), who checked the translation against the Russian original. The story "Mumu" was included in all French and German editions of the collected works of I.S. Turgenev, published in Europe in the 1860s-90s.

"Mumu" became the first work of Turgenev translated into Hungarian and Croatian, and in the 1860s and 70s three Czech translations of the story appeared, published in Prague magazines. In 1868, a Swedish translation of Mumu was published in Stockholm as a separate book, and by 1871 the story of the deaf-mute janitor and his dog reached America. The first translation of "Mumu" into English appeared in the USA ("Mou-mou". "Lippincott's Monthly Magazin", Philadelphia, 1871, April). In 1876, also in the USA, another translation was published ("The Living Mummy" - in Scribner's Monthly).

According to W. Ralston, the English philosopher and publicist T. Carlyle, who was personally acquainted with Turgenev and corresponded with him, stated, speaking of Mumu: "I think this is the most touching story that I have ever read" (Foreign criticism about Turgenev, St. Petersburg, 1884, p. 192). Later (in 1924), D. Galsworthy, in one of his articles ("Silhouettes of six novelists"), referring to Mumu, wrote that "a more exciting protest against tyrannical cruelty has never been created by the means of art" (Galsworthy J. Castles in Spain and other screeds, Leipzig, Tauchnitz, s.a., p. 179).

Undoubtedly, there is an ideological and thematic similarity between the stories "Mumu" and "Mademoiselle Kokotka" by Maupassant. The work of the French writer, also named after the dog, was written under the influence of Turgenev's story, although each of the writers interprets this topic in his own way.

Elena Shirokova

According to materials:

Applications

"Moo-mu" in modern folklore

Why did Gerasim drown Mumu? She would still serve him ... He tied two bricks to Muma - The face of a sadist, the hands of an executioner. Muma quietly goes to the bottom. Bul-bul, Mumu, Bul-bul Mumu... Muma lies calmly at the bottom. End of Mume, End of Mume!

Why Gerasim drowned Mumu, I don't understand, I don't understand. In what delirium he was, in what smoke - After all, not for good, not according to the mind. What feelings did he feel inside, When Muma was blowing bubbles? They wandered along the shore together, The trouble was already close ... Mumu was attracted by a cool reservoir And then, and then He tied two bricks to Muma - The eyes of a sadist, the hands of an executioner. Muma could live a long time, Raise puppies, chase geese. Why did Gerasim begin to drown her In the pond, to the shame of all Russia? Since then, in any decent family, the legend of Muma has always been alive. Live, but remember that one day fate will come to your house with a broom. Then whine yourself, wag your tail - Fate is deaf, like that dumb one. Do not renounce, people, from the scrip, Plague, prison, and the fate of Muma.

There are rumors that he lived - There was a mute Gerasim ... In the whole world he was friends with Only one Muma. Tu Mumu, like himself, He loved passionately. But one day, loving, He is her U-T-O-P-I-L! Chorus: Come to the village to Gerasim! It's here somewhere, It's here somewhere, It's here somewhere! Come to the village to Gerasim! There are no dogs there, not even cats, there is no one there. 2 Trouble befell They must be separated. And then he decided: Muma did not live any longer He picked up the stone And with a sense of guilt Towed directly to Muma's neck. Chorus. 3 A guy told me, The diver known As Mumu heroically Drowned with a song With a pebble around her neck I plunged into the abyss And then at night I appeared to everyone in a dream! Chorus. imho.ws

Why did Gerasim drown his Mu-Mu? What harm did she do to him? And why did the priest kill that dog? That poor dog only stole a bone ... Why did Gerasim drown his Mu-Mu? Perhaps she didn't let him eat either, And just stole a bone from the table, And... the poor dog! DIED! Irina Gavrilova Poetry.ru

In the forests of the Central Russian Plain A river drags its waters. She, like a grave, is dull And like an ocean, deep. Steamships do not rush along it And barges do not fly along it, But muddy, gray waters Keep a terrible secret. A block rests in a whirlpool, And twine is adapted to it. Alas, not for catching fish This apparatus was invented. The dog hangs on a noose, Inflated like an airship. The paws sway with the current. Don't you feel sorry for her? Perhaps, having run away from home, In the languor of fatal love, she herself threw herself into the pool Without memory, upside down? No! Killer - a mighty kid, Mute, but healthy, like a bull, Threw the little animal into the abyss, Putting a noose under her Adam's apple. She took off like a comet, Fell... She wants to swim. But even the law of Archimedes is powerless to change fate. The poor dog does not emerge - There is a tight noose on the throat. Black crayfish clung to her swollen belly. Shame on you, vicious Gerasim, That brutally tortured Mumu! A maniac is socially dangerous And should be thrown into prison. He hid in his native village, Wanting to confuse the tracks. The population will not give him food along the way. He runs through forests, fields, The earth burns under his feet. He runs, beaten with a rake And a pitchfork of peaceful villagers. Fighters for the protection of animals Will find the enemy without difficulty And torment outbred dogs Wean him forever. And even his disability will not become a hindrance to the court. Let him atone for his fault, Digging ore in Siberia. People's grief cannot be measured. The locomotives will give a whistle. Pioneers will go ashore And lower a wreath on the waves. Dawn lights up, glowing, Dawn rises above the planet. Mumu died from the villain, But the song about her will not die. imho.ws

From school essays

Gerasim and Mumu quickly found a common language.

Gerasim took pity on Mumu, so he decided to feed her and then drown her.

Gerasim fell in love with Mumu and swept the yard with joy.

Gerasim placed a saucer of milk on the floor and began poking it with his muzzle.

Gerasim tied a brick around his neck and swam away.

The deaf-mute Gerasim did not like gossip and spoke only the truth.

Continuing the theme of Mumu in modern folklore, we are pleased to almost completely present the article Anna Moiseeva in the journal "Philologist":

Why did Gerasim drown his Mumu,

An attempt to comprehend the place of two Turgenev's images in modern culture

Initial impressions of the work of the great Russian classic I.S. Turgenev, as a rule, are tragic, since traditionally, the very first of his many works, schoolchildren read (or, alas, listen to in a friendly retelling) the sad story of the deaf-mute Gerasim and his pet dog Mumu. Remember? “He threw the oars, leaned his head against Mumu, who was sitting in front of him on a dry crossbar - the bottom was flooded with water - and remained motionless, his mighty arms folded on her back, while the boat was gradually carried back to the city by the wave. Finally, Gerasim straightened up hurriedly, with some painful anger on his face, wrapped the bricks he had taken with a rope, attached a noose, put it on Mumu’s neck, lifted her over the river, looked at her for the last time ... She looked at him trustingly and without fear and slightly wagged her tail. He turned away, closed his eyes and unclenched his hands ... ".

Based on my own recollections, I can say that grief over the untimely death of an innocent animal, as a rule, goes hand in hand with bewilderment: why? Well, why was it necessary to drown Mumu, if Gerasim left the evil lady anyway? And no teacher's explanations that, they say, it was impossible to immediately eradicate the slavish habit of obeying, did not help: the reputation of poor Gerasim remained hopelessly tarnished.

Apparently, such a perception of the plot situation of Turgenev's story is quite typical, since more than one generation of schoolchildren and students sang to the motive of the musical theme of the composer N. Roth for the film F.F. Coppola's "Godfather" simple song:

Why did Gerasim drown his Mumu? I don't understand, I don't understand. Why, why, Why, why, And so that there are no more problems with cleaning.

As with any other folklore text, there have been, and must still be, numerous variants. An exotic grammatical form “one’s own Mumu” ​​arises, various, as a rule, more or less cynical answers are given to the question asked: “So that everyone should not bark more”, “Well, why? / Well, because: / He wanted to live quietly alone”, “Oh, why, / Ah, why, / Turgenev took and wrote his bullshit”, “I wanted a hostess, drowned the wrong one drunk”, etc. and so on. The unchanging "core" of the text remains the question expressing the impotence of the child's mind before the idea of ​​a genius.

However, apparently, it is precisely the feeling of bewilderment, combined with tragic experiences that are quite serious for any normally developing child, that make one remember this work and sometimes even cause a certain creative reaction, either immediate or delayed, belated (since it is definitely not only children who compose texts “about Mu Mu"). The result of such a reaction is most often works from the field of "black humor", perhaps because it is humor that helps to overcome various stressful situations and phobias.

From the verbal works, in addition to the aforementioned song, anecdotes about Mumu and Gerasim immediately come to mind. “And yet, Gerasim, you are not saying something,” Mumu said intently to the rowing owner. “Sir, where is our dog Montmorency? three people in the boat asked the Russian tourist Gerasim. “Oh, granddaughters, granddaughters, and again you mixed everything up! - old grandfather Mazai lamented, meeting Gerasim after another boat trip. “Sir Henry Baskerville calls Sherlock Holmes to him and says: “Mr Sherlock Holmes, I'm afraid we no longer need your services in capturing the Hound of the Baskervilles. Any minute now, the largest specialist in this field, Mr. Gerasim, should arrive from Russia.” “Well, here we meet again, Gerasim,” the Hound of the Baskervilles smiled friendly, going out to meet Sir Henry, pale with horror.

As you can see, quite often there is a play with images of literary works that are far from each other, the collision of which in one text largely determines the comic effect: Mumu - Montmorency - The Hound of the Baskervilles; Gerasim - three in the boat - grandfather Mazai - Sir Henry Baskerville. Such a game situation is, in principle, typical for jokes, the heroes of which are literary characters, it is worth remembering at least the legendary couple Natasha Rostova - Lieutenant Rzhevsky.

It is interesting that in jokes of this kind, Gerasim often acts precisely as the bearer of the Russian national principle, albeit taken in its negative aspect: cruelty to animals shocking refined Europeans (usually represented by the British). At the same time, Gerasim's behavior is not justified or explained in any way, which, in principle, is also consistent with traditional ideas about the mystery and spontaneity of the Russian soul. The lack of explanations on the part of Gerasim himself is motivated by the nature of his illness, which sometimes also becomes the subject of comic play.

Drawing by Andrey Bilzho

Textbook images of a deaf-mute giant and his baby dog ​​are reflected not only in verbal cultural texts: graphic confirmation of this thesis is the cartoons of Andrey Bilzho, known throughout the country as a wonderful “brain doctor” of the satirical TV program “Total”, which, unfortunately, untimely stopped its fun existence. The satirical orientation is also palpable in this cycle of his works, which turns Turgenev's heroes into our contemporaries, able to easily quote the statements of politicians of the 21st century (for example, Mumu, drowning in the river, recalls the famous statement of V.V. Putin: “But they promised to urinate in the toilet ...” ).

It is worth recalling, for example, the wonderful Soviet cartoon "The Wolf and the Calf", which glorifies the heroic deeds of a single adoptive father. There is one curious episode when a good-natured but poorly educated Wolf, on whose stove, due to some mysterious circumstances, a book by I.S. Turgenev, wants to entertain the calf with a story about his kind and slips the kid a story with an allegedly “speaking” title: “Mumu”. As a result, the poor thing cries bitterly and shouts "It's a pity for the dog!" Probably, this episode can be considered as a satire on the policy of the Russian Ministry of Education, which believes that if images of animals appear in a work, then it can definitely be attributed to literature for children, but we are more interested in other points. Once again, Turgenev's work is placed in an ironic context focused on mass perception, and once again it is associated with folklore, since the entire cartoon is deliberately stylized as a Russian folk tale about animals.

There are also brighter, more unusual examples of replicating the images of Mumu and Gerasim. In particular, at one time among the students-philologists of Perm State University, who traveled to St. Petersburg for conferences, undergraduate practice and just for tourism purposes, the Mumu cafe on the square named after. Turgenev. In student philological circles, he was affectionately called “Dead Dog” or even “Our Dead Dog”, pretentiously compiling the names of the famous bohemian tavern of the early twentieth century (“Stray Dog”) and one of the outrageous collections of futurist poets (“Dead Moon”). The interior of the cafe was decorated with the figure of a huge animal-like man with a cobblestone in one hand and a rope in the other, as well as many charming plush dogs with huge sad eyes. According to the testimony of local waiters and personal observations, this institution was a great success with children.

The number of examples confirming the “nationality” of these two Turgenev heroes can be increased: it is worth remembering at least a thin dog that periodically replaces a fat cow on a candy wrapper “Mumu”, and a joke in one of the KVN programs about Mr. Gerasim, a representative of the Society for the Protection of Animals. Probably, there are other, visual evidence, unfortunately, remained unknown to the author of this article. It is no coincidence that Mumu's name was included in the AiF selection “From Lassie to Nessie. 20 Most Famous Animals" with the following commentary: "The unfortunate dog, at the whim of a self-deprecating feudal lady (and in fact the insidious writer Turgenev!) drowned by the dumb Gerasim, is dearly loved by all the Russian people<…>»

It is easy to see that all the above cases are united by the fundamental “isolation” of the heroes from the source text, from the realities of the serf landowner economy of the nineteenth century and the skillfully built system of images of the work. The unfortunate love of Gerasim - Tatyana, her drunken husband Kapiton and even, by and large, the main villain - the lady, are actually excluded from the sphere of folk interpretation. The deaf-mute janitor and his beloved dog are left alone and begin to move through time and space with the ease characteristic of mythological heroes. The image of Gerasim itself is also significantly transformed: it is unlikely that a person who has not read the text of the original source, but who is familiar with its folklore interpretations, will come up with the idea that “together with the faithful little dog, a living human heart is drowning in water, insulted, humiliated, crumpled by wild arbitrariness”4 . In the modern mass consciousness, the image of Gerasim is rather the image of an executioner, a sadist, a kind of "dog" maniac, but by no means a suffering victim of serfdom. Only the names of the heroes, the memory of the tragic episode of drowning and the effective visual contrast between the giant figure of a gloomy strongman and the tiny silhouette of a helpless dog lie in the prototext.

Apparently, among all the heroes of Turgenev, only this couple - Gerasim and Mumu - managed to become truly "folk heroes", moving from the pages of a literary work to the vast expanses of Russian folklore and everyday culture. This fact does not at all testify in favor of the fact that the story "Mumu" is the best work of I.S. Turgenev: Russian classics as a whole have little demand for modern folklore, F.M. Dostoevsky and A.P. Chekhov was even less “lucky” in this respect, if, of course, it is at all appropriate to speak of any kind of “luck” in this case. It is quite obvious that the mechanisms of folklorization completely ruthlessly grind the author's intention, which could hardly impress both the classics themselves and their tremulous admirers. However, this fact once again confirms the idea of ​​the diversity of the literary heritage of I.S. Turgenev and, in addition, allows us to talk about some specific qualities of the story "Mumu", which, together with extra-textual factors (such as wide popularity, inclusion in the school curriculum, etc.), provoked a creative reaction of the masses. The identification and subsequent study of those qualities of a literary work that allow its heroes to become heroes of folklore is a separate, as it seems, very difficult scientific task, the unambiguous solution of which is hardly feasible within the framework of the genre of the article. For now, it will suffice to indicate the very existence of such a task, which is interesting and important both for literary criticism and for modern folklore.

In one of the remote streets of Moscow, in a gray house with white columns, a mezzanine and a crooked balcony, there once lived a mistress, a widow, surrounded by numerous servants. Her sons served in St. Petersburg, her daughters got married; she rarely went out and lived out the last years of her miserly and bored old age in solitude. Her day, joyless and rainy, has long passed; but even her evening was blacker than the night.

Of all her servants, the most remarkable person was the janitor Gerasim, a man of twelve inches tall, built by a hero and deaf-mute from birth. The lady took him from the village, where he lived alone, in a small hut, apart from his brothers, and was considered perhaps the most serviceable draft peasant. Gifted with extraordinary strength, he worked for four - the matter was arguing in his hands, and it was fun to look at him when he either plowed and, leaning his huge palms on the plow, it seemed, alone, without the help of a horse, cut up the elastic chest of the earth, or about Petrov the day acted so crushingly as a scythe that even if a young birch forest was brushed off its roots, or it thrashed agilely and non-stop with a three-foot flail, and like a lever, the oblong and hard muscles of his shoulders lowered and rose. The constant silence gave solemn importance to his indefatigable work. He was a nice man, and had it not been for his misfortune, any girl would have gladly married him ... But Gerasim was brought to Moscow, they bought him boots, sewed a caftan for the summer, a sheepskin coat for the winter, gave him a broom and a shovel in his hands and identified him janitor.

At first, he did not like his new life strongly. From childhood, he got used to field work, to village life. Alienated by his misfortune from the community of people, he grew up dumb and mighty, like a tree growing on fertile land ... Relocated to the city, he did not understand what was happening to him - he was bored and perplexed, as a young, healthy bull, who had just been taken, is perplexed from the field, where lush grass grew up to his belly, they took him, put him on a railroad car - and now, dousing his fat body with either smoke with sparks, or undulating steam, they are rushing him now, rushing with a knock and a screech, and where God is rushing news! Gerasim's employment in his new position seemed to him a joke after hard peasant work; and for half an hour everything was ready for him, and he would again stop in the middle of the yard and stare, open-mouthed, at all the passers-by, as if wishing to obtain from them a solution to his mysterious situation, then he would suddenly go off somewhere into a corner and, throwing his broom far away and shovel, threw himself face down on the ground, and lay motionless on his chest for hours, like a captured animal. But a person gets used to everything, and Gerasim finally got used to city life. He had little to do; his whole duty was to keep the yard clean, to bring a barrel of water twice a day, to haul and chop firewood for the kitchen and the house, and to keep strangers out and guard at night. And it must be said that he diligently fulfilled his duty: in his yard there was never any wood chips or rubbish; if in a dirty time somewhere with a barrel a broken water-horse given under his command gets stuck, he will only move his shoulder - and not only the cart, the horse itself will shove from its place; if he starts chopping wood, the ax will ring with him like glass, and splinters and logs will fly in all directions; and as for strangers, after one night, having caught two thieves, he banged their foreheads against each other, and banged them so hard that even if you don’t take them to the police later, everyone in the neighborhood began to respect him very much; even during the day, those passing by, no longer swindlers at all, but simply strangers, at the sight of the formidable janitor, waved and shouted at him, as if he could hear their cries. With the rest of the servants, Gerasim was not on friendly terms - they were afraid of him - but short ones: he considered them to be his own. They communicated with him by signs, and he understood them, carried out all orders exactly, but he also knew his rights, and no one dared to take his place in the capital. In general, Gerasim was of a strict and serious disposition, he liked order in everything; even the roosters did not dare to fight in his presence, otherwise it’s a disaster! he sees, he immediately grabs him by the legs, turns the wheel ten times in the air and throws him apart. There were also geese in the lady's yard; but the goose, as you know, is an important and reasonable bird; Gerasim felt respect for them, went after them and fed them; he himself looked like a sedate gander. He was given a closet above the kitchen; he arranged it for himself, according to his own taste: he built in it a bed of oak planks on four blocks, a truly heroic bed; one hundred pounds could be put on it - it would not bend; under the bed was a hefty chest; in the corner stood a table of the same strong quality, and near the table there was a chair with three legs, but so strong and squat that Gerasim himself used to pick it up, drop it and grin. The closet was locked with a lock, reminiscent of its appearance kalach, only black; Gerasim always carried the key to this lock with him on his belt. He did not like to be visited.

So a year passed, at the end of which a small incident happened to Gerasim.

The old lady, with whom he lived as a janitors, followed the ancient customs in everything and kept numerous servants: in her house there were not only laundresses, seamstresses, carpenters, tailors and dressmakers, there was even one saddler, he was also considered a veterinarian and doctor for the people, there was a house doctor for the mistress, there was, finally, one shoemaker named Kapiton Klimov, a bitter drunkard. Klimov considered himself an offended and unappreciated creature, an educated and metropolitan man who could not live in Moscow, idle, in some kind of backwater, and if he drank, as he himself put it with an arrangement and pounding his chest, then he drank already from grief. One day the lady and her chief butler, Gavrila, were talking about him, a man whom, judging by his yellow eyes and duck nose alone, fate itself seemed to have determined to be a commanding person. The mistress regretted the corrupted morality of Kapiton, who had just been found somewhere on the street the day before.

“Well, Gavrila,” she suddenly began, “shouldn’t we marry him, what do you think?” Maybe he'll calm down.

“Why not get married?” It’s possible, sir,” answered Gavrila, “and it will be very good, sir.

- Yes; but who will go after him?

– Of course, sir. And yet, as you wish, sir. Yet, so to speak, he may be needed for something; you can't throw him out of ten.

- It seems that he likes Tatyana?

Gavrila was about to say something, but he pursed his lips.

“Yes! .. let him woo Tatyana,” the lady decided, sniffing tobacco with pleasure, “do you hear?

“Yes, sir,” said Gavrila, and left. Returning to his room (it was in the wing and was almost completely cluttered with wrought-iron chests), Gavrila first sent his wife out, and then sat down by the window and thought. The unexpected order of the lady, apparently, puzzled him. Finally he got up and ordered Kapiton to be called. Kapiton appeared ... But before we convey to the readers their conversation, we consider it useful to tell in a few words who this Tatyana was, whom Kapiton had to marry, and why the command of the lady embarrassed the butler.

Tatyana, who, as we said above, was a laundress (however, as a skilled and learned laundress, she was entrusted with only thin linen), was a woman of about twenty-eight, small, thin, blond, with moles on her left cheek. Moles on the left cheek are revered in Rus' as a bad omen - a portent of an unhappy life ... Tatyana could not boast of her fate. From early youth she was kept in a black body; she worked for two, but she never saw any kindness; they dressed her badly, she received the smallest salary; she didn’t have any relatives: one old housekeeper, abandoned in the country as unusable, was her uncle, and her other uncles were peasants—that’s all. Once upon a time, the ode was known as a beauty, but beauty very soon jumped off her. She was of a very meek disposition, or, rather, frightened; she felt complete indifference to herself, she was mortally afraid of others; she thought only of how to finish the work on time, never spoke to anyone and trembled at the mere name of the mistress, although she hardly knew her in the face. When Gerasim was brought from the village, she almost died of horror at the sight of his huge figure, tried her best not to meet him, even squinted, it happened when she happened to run past him, hurrying from the house to the laundry - Gerasim at first did not pay special attention to her attention, then he began to chuckle when he came across her, then he began to look at her, and finally he did not take his eyes off her at all. She fell in love with him; whether by a meek expression on his face, or by timidity of movements - God knows! One day she was making her way around the yard, carefully picking up the lady's starched jacket on spread fingers ... someone suddenly grabbed her by the elbow; she turned around and screamed: Gerasim was standing behind her. Laughing stupidly and lowing affectionately, he held out to her a gingerbread cockerel with gold leaf on its tail and wings. She was about to refuse, but he forcibly shoved it right into her hand, shook his head, walked away and, turning around, mumbled something very friendly to her again. From that day on, he didn’t give her rest: wherever she would go, he was already right there, walking towards her, smiling, grumbling, waving his arms, suddenly pulling out the tape from his bosom and handing it to her, with a broom in front of her, dust will clear. The poor girl simply did not know how to be and what to do. Soon the whole house learned about the tricks of the dumb janitor; ridicule, jokes, biting words rained down on Tatyana. However, not everyone dared to mock Gerasim: he did not like jokes; Yes, and she was left alone with him. The Rada is not happy, but the girl fell under his protection. Like all deaf-mutes, he was very quick-witted and understood very well when he or she was being laughed at. One day, at dinner, the housekeeper, Tatyana's boss, began, as they say, to shove her, and brought her to such a point that she, poor woman, did not know what to do with her eyes and almost wept with vexation. Gerasim suddenly got up, stretched out his huge hand, put it on the wardrobe-maid's head, and looked into her face with such sullen ferocity that she stooped down to the table. Everyone was silent. Gerasim took up the spoon again and continued to sip the cabbage soup. "Look, deaf devil, goblin!" - they all muttered in an undertone, and the wardrobe lady got up and went into the maid's room. And then another time, noticing that Kapiton, the same Kapiton we were talking about, was somehow too kindly breaking up with Tatyana, Gerasim beckoned him with his finger, took him to the carriage house, yes, grabbing the end of what was standing in the corner drawbar, lightly but meaningfully threatened him with it. Since then, no one has spoken to Tatyana. And he got away with it all. True, as soon as she ran into the maid's room, the housekeeper immediately fainted and, in general, acted so skillfully that on the same day she brought to the attention of the mistress Gerasim's rude act; but the whimsical old woman only laughed, several times, to the extreme insult of the housekeeper, made her repeat how, they say, he bent you down with his heavy hand, and the next day sent Gerasim a ruble. She praised him as a faithful and strong watchman. Gerasim was quite afraid of her, but still he hoped for her mercy and was about to go to her with a request if she would not allow him to marry Tatyana. He was just waiting for a new caftan, promised to him by the butler, in order to appear in decent form before the mistress, when suddenly this very mistress came up with the idea of ​​marrying Tatyana to Kapiton.

The reader will now easily understand the reason for the embarrassment that seized the butler Gavrila after a conversation with the mistress. “Mistress,” he thought, sitting by the window, “of course, favors Gerasim (Gavrila knew this well, and therefore he himself indulged him), but he is still a dumb creature; not to report to the lady that Gerasim, they say, is courting Tatyana. And finally, it is fair, what kind of husband is he? But on the other hand, it’s worth it, God forgive me, the goblin to find out that Tatyana is being married off to Kapiton, because he will break everything in the house, really. After all, you will not collide with him; after all, I sinned, a sinner, in no way can you persuade him ... right! .. ”

The appearance of Kapiton interrupted the thread of Gavrila's reflections. The frivolous shoemaker came in, threw his arms back, and, leaning casually against the protruding corner of the wall near the door, placed his right foot crosswise in front of his left, and shook his head. “Here I am. What do you need?

Gavrila looked at Kapiton and tapped his fingers on the window frame. Kapiton only screwed up his pewter eyes a little, but did not lower them, even smiled slightly and ran his hand through his whitish hair, which was ruffled in all directions. Well, yes, I, they say, I am. What are you looking at?

"Good," said Gavrila, and paused. - Okay, nothing to say!

Kapiton just shrugged his shoulders. "Are you any better?" he thought to himself.

“Well, look at yourself, well, look,” Gavrila continued reproachfully, “well, who do you look like?

Kapiton cast a calm glance over his worn and tattered frock coat, his patched pantaloons, with special attention he examined his holey boots, especially the one on the toe of which his right “leg” rested so dapperly, and again stared at the butler.

- What about?

- What? Gavrila repeated. - What? Still you say: what? You look like the devil, I have sinned, sinner, that's who you look like.

Capito blinked his eyes nimbly.

"Swear, say, swear, Gavrila Andreevich," he thought again to himself.

“After all, you were drunk again,” began Gavrila, “again, right? A? well, answer it.

“Due to the weakness of his health, he really was exposed to alcoholic beverages,” Kapiton objected.

- Due to poor health! .. You are not punished enough, that's what; and in St. Petersburg he was still a student ... You learned a lot in your studies. Just eat bread for nothing.

- In this case, Gavrila Andreevich, there is only one judge for me: the Lord God himself - and no one else. He alone knows what kind of person I am in this world, and whether I eat bread for free. As for the consideration of drunkenness, even in this case it is not I who is to blame, but more than one comrade; he himself lured me, and he politicized, he left, that is, and I ...

- And you stayed, goose, on the street. Oh, you stupid man! Well, it's not about that, - continued the butler, - but that. The mistress ... - here he paused, - the mistress wants you to marry. Do you hear? They think you'll settle down by getting married. Understand?

– How not to understand.

- Well, yes. In my opinion, it would be better to take you well in hand. Well, it's their business. Well? Do you agree?

The captain grinned.

“Marriage is a good thing for a man, Gavrila Andreevich; and I, for my part, with my very pleasant pleasure.

- Well, yes, - objected Gavrila and thought to himself: "There is nothing to say, the man speaks neatly." “Only here’s the thing,” he continued aloud, “they’ve found a bride that’s not right for you.”

“Which one, may I ask?”

- Tatyana.

- Tatyana?

And Kapiton goggled his eyes and separated himself from the wall.

- Well, why are you excited? .. Don't you like her?

“What a dislike, Gavrila Andreevich!” she’s nothing, a worker, a meek girl… But you know yourself, Gavrila Andrepch, after all, that goblin, a kikimora of the steppe, he’s behind her…

“I know, brother, I know everything,” the butler interrupted him with annoyance. - yes, indeed ...

- Yes, have mercy, Gavrila Andreevich! after all, he will kill me, by God he will kill me, like he will swat some fly; because he has a hand, because you, if you please, see for yourself what kind of hand he has; because he just has Minin and Pozharsky's hand. After all, he, deaf, beats and does not hear how he beats! As if in a dream he is waving his fists. And there is no way to appease him; Why? therefore, you know yourself, Gavrila Andreevich, he is deaf and, moreover, as stupid as a heel. After all, this is some kind of beast, an idol, Gavrila Andreevich - worse than an idol ... some kind of aspen: why should I suffer from him now? Of course, I don’t care about anything now: a man has worn himself out, he has endured, he has oiled himself like a Kolomna pot - all the same, however, I am a man, and not some, in fact, an insignificant pot.

- I know, I know, don't paint ...

- Oh my God! the shoemaker went on ardently, “when is the end?” when, my God! I am a wretch, a wretch that is not original! Fate, my fate, you think! In my early years I was beaten through the German master, in the best joint of my life a beat from my own brother, finally, in my mature years, this is what I rose to ...

“Oh, you bast soul,” said Gavrila. - What are you spreading, right!

- How what, Gavrila Andreevich! I'm not afraid of beatings, Gavrila Andreevich. Punish me, lord in the walls, and give me a greeting in front of people, and I am all among the people, but here it comes from whom ...

“Well, get out,” Gavrila interrupted him impatiently. Kapiton turned away and trudged out.

“Let’s suppose he didn’t exist,” the butler called after him, “do you agree yourself?”

“I do,” Kapiton objected, and left. Eloquence did not leave him even in extreme cases. The butler paced the room several times.

“Well, call Tatyana now,” he said at last. A few moments later Tatiana came in barely audibly and stopped at the threshold.

"What do you order, Gavrila Andreevich?" she said in a low voice.

The butler looked at her intently.

“Well,” he said, “Tanyusha, do you want to get married?” The lady has found a groom for you.

“I am listening, Gavrila Andreevich. And who do they appoint me as a suitor? she added with hesitation.

- Kapiton, the shoemaker.

- I'm listening.

“He's a frivolous man, that's for sure. But in this case, the lady is counting on you.

- I'm listening.

“There’s only one problem… after all, this capercaillie, Garaska, he’s looking after you. And how did you bewitch this bear to yourself? But he will kill you, perhaps, a kind of bear ..

“He will kill you, Gavrila Andreevich, he will certainly kill you.”

- Kill ... Well, we'll see. How do you say: kill! Does he have the right to kill you, judge for yourself.

“But I don’t know, Gavrila Andreevich, whether he has or not.

- Ekaya! because you didn't promise him anything...

– What do you want?

The butler paused and thought:

"You unrequited soul!" “Well, all right,” he added, “we’ll talk to you again, and now go, Tanyusha; I can see that you are truly humble.

Tatiana turned, leaned lightly on the lintel, and left.

“Maybe the lady will forget about this wedding tomorrow,” thought the butler, “what made me upset? We will twist this mischievous one; If we let the police know…”

- Ustinya Fyodorovna! he shouted in a loud voice to his wife, “put on the samovar, my venerable…

Tatiana didn't leave the laundry for most of that day. At first she wept, then she wiped away her tears and went on with her work. Kapiton sat until very late at night in an establishment with some gloomy-looking friend and told him in detail how he lived in St. Petersburg with a certain gentleman, who would take everyone, but he was observant of orders and, moreover, was a little free with one mistake: he took a lot with hops, and as for the female sex, he simply reached all the qualities ... The gloomy comrade only agreed; but when Kapiton finally announced that, on one occasion, he must lay a hand on himself the next day, the gloomy comrade remarked that it was time for bed. And they parted rudely and silently.

Meanwhile, the butler's expectations did not come true. The lady was so occupied with the idea of ​​Kapiton's wedding that even at night she only talked about it with one of her companions, who stayed in her house only in case of insomnia and, like a night cabman, slept during the day. When Gavrila came to her after tea with a report, her first question was: what about our wedding, is it going on? He, of course, answered that he was going as well as possible, and that Kapiton would come to her that very day with a bow. The lady was feeling unwell; she did not do business for long. The butler returned to his room and called a council. The matter certainly required a special discussion. Tatyana did not contradict, of course; but Kapiton announced publicly that he had one head, and not two or three ... Gerasim looked sternly and quickly at everyone, did not leave the girl's porch and seemed to guess that something unkind was being planned for him. The assembled (among them was an old barman, nicknamed Uncle Tail, to whom everyone reverently turned for advice, although they only heard from him that: that's how it is, yes: yes, yes, yes) began with the fact that, just in case, for safety, they locked Kapiton in a closet with a water-purifying machine and began to think a strong thought. Of course, it was easy to resort to force; but God save! there will be noise, the lady will be worried - trouble! How to be? They thought and thought and finally figured it out. It was repeatedly noted that Gerasim could not stand drunkards ... Sitting outside the gate, he always turned away indignantly when some loaded person passed by him with unsteady steps and with a peaked cap on his ear. They decided to teach Tatyana to pretend to be intoxicated and walk, staggering and swaying, past Gerasim. The poor girl did not agree for a long time, but she was persuaded; moreover, she herself saw that otherwise she would not get rid of her admirer. She went. Kapiton was let out of the closet: the matter concerned him after all. Gerasim was sitting on a bedside table at the gate, poking the ground with a shovel... From behind all corners, from under the curtains outside the windows, they were looking at him...

The trick worked perfectly. Seeing Tatyana, at first, as usual, he nodded his head with an affectionate lowing; then he peered, dropped the shovel, jumped up, went up to her, moved his face to her very face ... She staggered even more from fear and closed her eyes ... He grabbed her by the arm, rushed across the whole courtyard and, entering with her into the room where he sat advice, pushed her straight to Kapiton. Tatyana just died... Gerasim stood for a moment, looked at her, waved his hand, grinned and went, stepping heavily, to his closet... He did not come out of there for a whole day. The postilion Antipka later said that he saw through the crack how Gerasim, sitting on the bed, with his hand to his cheek, quietly, measuredly and only occasionally mumbling, sang, that is, swayed, closed his eyes and shook his head like coachmen or barge haulers when they sing their mournful songs. Antipka became terrified, and he moved away from the gap. When Gerasim left the closet the next day, no particular change could be noticed in him. He only seemed to become more gloomy, and did not pay the slightest attention to Tatyana and Kapiton. That same evening they both went to the mistress's with geese under their arms, and a week later they were married. On the very day of the wedding, Gerasim did not change his behavior in anything; only he came from the river without water: he once broke a barrel on the road; and at night, in the stable, he cleaned and rubbed his horse so diligently that it swayed like a blade of grass in the wind and waddled from foot to foot under his iron fists.

All this happened in the spring. Another year passed, during which Kapiton completely drank himself with the circle and, as a person who was decidedly useless, was sent with a convoy to a distant village, along with his wife. On the day of his departure, at first he was very brave and assured that wherever they went to him, even where the women wash their shirts and put rolls on the sky, he will not be lost; but then he lost heart, began to complain that he was being taken to uneducated people, and finally became so weak that he could not even put on his own hat; some compassionate soul pushed it over his forehead, straightened the visor, and slammed it down. When everything was ready and the peasants were already holding the reins in their hands and were only waiting for the words: “God bless you!” Gerasim left his closet, approached Tatiana and presented her with a red paper handkerchief, which he had bought for her a year ago. . Tatyana, who up to that moment had endured all the vicissitudes of her life with great indifference, here, however, could not bear it, shed a tear, and, getting into the cart, kissed Gerasim three times like a Christian. He wanted to escort her to the outpost and at first went along with her cart, but suddenly stopped at the Crimean Ford, waved his hand and set off along the river.

It was in the evening. He walked quietly and looked at the water. Suddenly it seemed to him that something was floundering in the mud near the shore. He bent down and saw a small puppy, white with black spots, which, despite all his efforts, could not get out of the water, struggled, slithered and trembled with all his wet and thin body. Gerasim looked at the unfortunate little dog, picked it up with one hand, thrust it into his bosom, and set off home with long strides. He went into his closet, laid the saved puppy on the bed, covered him with his heavy coat, ran first to the stable for straw, then to the kitchen for a cup of milk. Carefully throwing back the coat and spreading the straw, he put the milk on the bed. The poor little dog was only three weeks old, and her eyes had recently opened; one eye even seemed a little larger than the other; she still did not know how to drink from a cup and only trembled and screwed up her eyes. Gerasim took her head lightly with two fingers and bent her muzzle to the milk. The dog suddenly began to drink greedily, snorting, shaking and choking. Gerasim looked, looked, and suddenly laughed ... All night he fiddled with her, laid her down, wiped her, and finally fell asleep himself next to her in some kind of joyful and quiet sleep.

No mother takes care of her child the way Gerasim took care of his pet. (The dog turned out to be a bitch.) At first she was very weak, frail and ugly in appearance, but little by little she managed and evened out, and eight months later, thanks to the vigilant care of her savior, she turned into a very fine dog of the Spanish breed, with long ears, a fluffy tail in trumpet-shaped and with large expressive eyes. She became passionately attached to Gerasim and did not leave him a single step, she kept walking behind him, wagging her tail. He gave her a nickname - the dumb know that their lowing attracts the attention of others - he called her Mumu. All the people in the house fell in love with her and also called Mumunei. She was extremely intelligent, fond of everyone, but she loved only Gerasim. Gerasim himself loved her without memory ... and it was unpleasant for him when others stroked her: he was afraid, perhaps, for her, was he jealous of her, God knows! She woke him up in the morning, pulling him by the floor, brought to him by the rein an old water cart, with whom she lived in great friendship, with dignity on her face went with him to the river, guarded his brooms and shovels, did not let anyone near his closet. He deliberately cut a hole in his door for her, and she seemed to feel that only in Gerasimov's closet she was a complete hostess, and therefore, entering it, she immediately jumped on the bed with a satisfied look. At night she did not sleep at all, but she did not bark indiscriminately, like that other stupid mongrel who, sitting on her hind legs and lifting her muzzle and closing her eyes, barks simply out of boredom, like that, at the stars, and usually three times in a row - no! Mumu's thin voice was never heard in vain: either a stranger came close to the fence, or a suspicious noise or rustle rose somewhere ... In a word, she guarded perfectly. True, there was also, besides her, in the yard an old yellow dog with brown speckles, named Volchok, but he was never, even at night, let loose from the chain, and he himself, due to his decrepitude, did not at all demand freedom - he lay to himself, curled up in his kennel, and only occasionally uttered a hoarse, almost soundless bark, which immediately stopped, as if he himself felt all its uselessness. Mumu did not go to the master's house, and when Gerasim carried firewood into the rooms, she always remained behind and waited impatiently for him at the porch, pricking up her ears and turning her head first to the right, then suddenly to the left, at the slightest knock at the door ...

So another year passed. Gerasim continued his yard work and was very pleased with his fate, when suddenly an unexpected circumstance occurred, namely: one fine summer day, the lady with her hangers-on was pacing around the living room. She was in good spirits, laughing and joking; the hangers-on laughed and joked too, but they did not feel any particular joy: they did not really like it in the house when a merry hour found a mistress, because, firstly, she then demanded immediate and complete sympathy from everyone and became angry if anyone Somehow her face did not shine with pleasure, and secondly, these outbursts did not last long in her and were usually replaced by a gloomy and sour mood. That day she got up somehow happily; on the cards she got four jacks: the fulfillment of desires (she always guessed in the morning), and the tea seemed especially tasty to her, for which the maid received praise in words and ten kopecks in money. With a sweet smile on her wrinkled lips, the lady walked around the drawing room and went up to the window. There was a front garden in front of the window, and in the very middle flower bed, under a rose bush, lay Mumu, carefully gnawing at a bone. The lady saw her.

- My God! she suddenly exclaimed, “what kind of dog is that?”

The friend, to whom the mistress turned, rushed about, poor thing, with that dreary anxiety that usually takes possession of a subject person when he does not yet know well how to understand the exclamation of the boss.

“I…n…I don’t know,” she muttered, “mute, I think.”

- My God! - interrupted the lady, - yes, she is a pretty little dog! Tell her to bring. How long has she been with him? How can I not see her until now?.. Tell her to bring.

The hanger immediately fluttered into the anteroom.

- Man, man! she shouted, “bring Mumu as soon as possible!” She's in the front garden.

“And her name is Mumu,” said the lady, “a very good name.”

- Oh, very much! the host objected. - Hurry, Stepan!

Stepan, a burly lad who worked as a footman, rushed headlong into the front garden and was about to grab Mumu, but she deftly wriggled out from under his fingers and, raising her tail, set off at full speed towards Gerasim, who at that time was knocking out and shook out the barrel, turning it over in his hands like a child's drum. Stepan ran after her, began to catch her at the very feet of her master; but the nimble dog did not fall into the hands of a stranger, jumped and dodged. Gerasim looked with a grin at all this fuss; Finally, Stepan got up in annoyance and hastily explained to him by signs that the mistress, they say, wanted your dog to come to her. Gerasim was a little surprised, but he called Mumu, picked her up from the ground and handed her over to Stepan. Stepan brought it into the living room and put it on the parquet. The lady began to call her to her in an affectionate voice. Mumu, who had not yet been in such magnificent chambers, was very frightened and rushed to the door, but, pushed away by the obliging Stepan, she trembled and pressed herself against the wall.

“Mumu, Mumu, come to me, come to the mistress,” said the lady, “come, silly ... do not be afraid ...

“Come, come, Mumu, to the mistress,” the accusers repeated, “come.

But Mumu looked around melancholy and did not budge.

“Bring her something to eat,” said the lady. - What a fool she is! does not go to the lady. What is he afraid of?

“They are not used to it yet,” one of the accustomers said in a timid and touching voice.

Stepan brought a saucer of milk and placed it in front of Mumu, but Mumu didn't even sniff the milk, and kept trembling and looking around as before.

- Oh, what are you! said the lady, going up to her, bent down and wanted to stroke her, but Mumu convulsively turned her head and bared her teeth. The lady deftly withdrew her hand ...

There was an instant silence. Mumu squealed weakly, as if complaining and apologizing... The mistress moved away and frowned. The sudden movement of the dog frightened her.

– Ah! - all the hangers-on shouted at once, - did she bite you, God forbid! (Mumu has never bitten anyone in her life.) Ah, ah!

“Take her away,” the old woman said in a changed voice. - Bad dog! how evil she is!

And, slowly turning around, she went to her office. The hangers-on looked at each other timidly and started to follow her, but she stopped, looked at them coldly, and said: “Why is this? because I don’t call you, ”and she left. The hangers-on frantically waved their hands at Stepan; he grabbed Mumu and quickly threw her out the door, right at the feet of Gerasim, - and in half an hour a deep silence reigned in the house and the old lady sat on her sofa more gloomy than a thundercloud.

What trifles, you think, can sometimes upset a person!

Until evening the lady was in a bad mood, did not talk to anyone, did not play cards, and spent the night badly. She thought that the eau de cologne she was given was not the one that was usually served, that her pillow smelled of soap, and forced the wardrobe lady to smell all the linen - in a word, she was agitated and "excited" very much. The next morning, she ordered Gaarila to be called an hour earlier than usual.

“Tell me, please,” she began, as soon as he, not without some internal babbling, crossed the threshold of her office, “what kind of dog was barking in our yard all night?” didn't let me sleep!

“Dog-s…what-s…maybe a mute dog,” he said in a voice that was not entirely firm.

- I don’t know if it’s a mute or someone else, but she didn’t let me sleep. Yes, I wonder why such an abyss of dogs! I wish to know. Do we have a yard dog?

– How, sir, there is, sir. Volchok-s.

- Well, what else, what else do we need a dog for? Just start a riot. The elder is not in the house - that's what. And why a dumb dog? Who allowed him to keep dogs in my yard? Yesterday I went to the window, and she was lying in the front garden, dragging some kind of abomination, nibbling - and I have roses planted there ...

The lady was silent.

- So that she wasn’t here today ... do you hear?

- I'm listening.

- Today. Now get up. I'll call you to report later.

Gavrila left.

Passing through the living room, the butler rearranged the bell from one table to another for order, quietly blew his duck nose in the hall and went out into the hall. In the hall, Stepan was sleeping on a horse, in the position of a slain warrior in a battle picture, convulsively stretching out his bare legs from under the frock coat that served him instead of a blanket. The butler pushed him aside and in an undertone told him some order, to which Stepan answered with a half-yawn, half-laughter. The butler left, and Stepan jumped up, pulled on his caftan and boots, went out and stopped at the porch. Five minutes had not passed when Gerasim appeared with a huge bundle of firewood on his back, accompanied by the inseparable Mumu. (The lady ordered her bedroom and study to be heated even in summer.) Gerasim stood sideways in front of the door, pushed it with his shoulder and tumbled into the house with his burden. Mumu, as usual, remained to wait for him. Then Stepan, seizing a convenient moment, suddenly rushed at her, like a kite at a chicken, crushed her to the ground with his chest, scooped her up in an armful and, without even putting on a cap, ran out into the yard with her, got into the first cab he came across and galloped to Okhotny Ryad. There he soon found a buyer, to whom he sold her for fifty kopecks, only that he would keep her tied for at least a week, and immediately returned; but, before reaching the house, he got off the cab and, going around the yard, from the back lane, jumped over the fence into the yard; he was afraid to go through the gate, lest he meet Gerasim.

However, his anxiety was in vain: Gerasim was no longer in the yard. Leaving the house, he immediately missed Mumu; he still did not remember that someday she would not wait for his return, began to run everywhere, look for her, call in his own way ... rushed into his closet, into the hayloft, jumped out into the street, hither and thither ... Disappeared! He turned to the people, with the most desperate signs asked about her, pointing at half a yard from the ground, drew her with his hands ... Some did not know exactly where Mumu had gone, and only shook their heads, others knew and chuckled at him in response, and the butler accepted an extremely important sight and began to yell at the coachmen. Then Gerasim ran out of the yard.

It was already getting dark when he returned. From his exhausted appearance, from his unsteady gait, from his dusty clothes, one could assume that he managed to run around half of Moscow. He stopped in front of the master's windows, looked around the porch, on which seven courtyards were crowded, turned away and mumbled again: "Mumu!" Mumu didn't answer. He walked away. Everyone looked after him, but no one smiled, no one said a word... and the curious postilion Antipka told the next morning in the kitchen that the mute had been groaning all night.

The whole next day, Gerasim did not show up, so instead of him the coachman Potap had to go for water, which the coachman Potap was very dissatisfied with. The lady asked Gavrila if her order had been carried out. Gavrila replied that it was done. The next morning Gerasim left his closet for work. By dinnertime he came, ate, and left again without bowing to anyone. His face, already lifeless, like all deaf-mutes, now seemed to be petrified. After dinner, he again left the yard, but not for long, returned and immediately went to the hayloft. The night came, moonlit, clear. Sighing heavily and constantly turning, Gerasim lay and suddenly felt as if he were being pulled by the floor; he trembled all over, but did not raise his head, even closed his eyes; but here they pulled him again, stronger than before; he jumped up ... in front of him, with a piece of paper around her neck, Mumu was spinning. A long cry of joy burst from his silent chest; he grabbed Mumu, squeezed her in his arms; in an instant she licked his nose, eyes, mustache and beard ... He stood, thought, carefully climbed down from the hay, looked around and, making sure that no one would see him, he safely made his way to his closet - Gerasim had already guessed that the dog had not disappeared. it goes without saying that she must have been brought down by order of the mistress; people explained to him with signs how his Mumu had snapped at her, and he decided to take his own measures. First he fed Mumu with bread, caressed her, put her to bed, then he began to think, and all night long he thought about how best to hide her. Finally, he came up with the idea of ​​leaving her in the closet all day and only occasionally visiting her, and taking her out at night. He plugged the hole in the door tightly with his old coat, and almost light was already in the yard, as if nothing had happened, even retaining (innocent cunning!) the former despondency on his face. It could not have occurred to the poor deaf man that Mumu would give himself away with his screeching: indeed, everyone in the house soon learned that the dumb dog had returned and was locked up in his house, but, out of pity for him and her, and partly, perhaps, out of fear of him, they did not let him know that they had found out his secret. The butler alone scratched his head and waved his hand. “Well, they say, God bless him! Perhaps it won’t reach the lady! ” On the other hand, the mute had never been as zealous as on that day: he cleaned and scraped the whole yard, weeded out every single piece of grass, pulled out all the pegs in the fence of the front garden with his own hands to make sure they were strong enough, and then he himself hammered them in - in a word, he fiddled and busied himself so that even the lady drew attention to his zeal. During the day, Gerasim went stealthily to his recluse a couple of times; when night came, he went to bed with her in the closet, and not in the hayloft, and only at two o'clock did he go out for a walk with her in the fresh air. After walking around the yard with her for quite some time, he was about to return, when suddenly behind the fence, from the side of the alley, there was a rustle. Mumu pricked up her ears, growled, went up to the fence, sniffed and burst into a loud and shrill bark. Some drunken man took it into his head to nest there for the night. At this very time, the lady was just falling asleep after a long "nervous excitement": these excitements always happened to her after a too hearty dinner. A sudden bark woke her up; her heart skipped a beat and sank. "Girls, girls! she moaned. - Girls! Frightened girls jumped into her bedroom. "Oh, oh, I'm dying! she said, throwing up her hands sadly. - Again, again this dog! .. Oh, send for the doctor. They want to kill me... Dog, dog again! Oh!" - and she threw her head back, which was supposed to mean fainting. They rushed for the doctor, that is, for the house doctor Khariton. This doctor, whose only skill was that he wore boots with soft soles, knew how to delicately take the pulse, slept fourteen hours a day, and the rest of the time he sighed and incessantly regaled the mistress with laurel-cherry drops - this doctor immediately ran in, smoked burnt feathers, and when the mistress opened her eyes, he immediately brought her a glass with the treasured drops on a silver tray. The mistress accepted them, but at once, in a tearful voice, she again began to complain about the dog, about Gavrila, about her fate, that everyone had abandoned her, a poor old woman, that no one was sorry about her, that everyone wanted her dead. Meanwhile, the unfortunate Mumu continued to bark, and Gerasim tried in vain to call her away from the fence. “Here ... here ... again ...” the lady murmured, and again rolled her eyes under her forehead. The doctor whispered to the girl, she rushed into the hall, pushed Stepan aside, he ran to wake Gavrila, Gavrila rashly ordered to raise the whole house.

Gerasim turned around, saw lights and shadows flickering in the windows, and, sensing trouble in his heart, grabbed Mumu under the arm, ran into the closet and locked himself. A few moments later, five people were pounding on his door, but, feeling the resistance of the bolt, they stopped. Gavrila ran in a terrible puff, ordered them all to stay here until morning and watch, and then he himself rushed into the maid's room and through his senior companion Lyubov Lyubimovna, with whom he stole and accounted for tea, sugar and other groceries, ordered to report to the mistress that the dog, to unfortunately, she again ran from somewhere, but that tomorrow she would not be alive and that the lady would do a favor, not get angry and calm down. The lady, probably, would not have calmed down so soon, but the doctor in a hurry instead of twelve drops poured as many as forty: the power of the laurel rose and acted - in a quarter of an hour the lady was already resting soundly and peacefully; and Gerasim lay, all pale, on his bed - and tightly squeezed Mumu's mouth.

The next morning the lady woke up quite late. Gavrila was waiting for her awakening in order to give the order for a decisive attack on Gerasimov's shelter, while he himself was preparing to withstand a strong thunderstorm. But the storm didn't happen. Lying in bed, the lady ordered to call the older host to her.

“Lyubov Lyubimovna,” she began in a low and weak voice; she sometimes liked to pretend to be a downtrodden and orphan sufferer; needless to say, that all the people in the house then became very embarrassed - Lyubov Lyubimovna, you see what my position is: go, my soul, to Gavrila Andreevich, talk to him: is any little dog really dearer to him than peace, life itself his ladies? I would not want to believe it,” she added with an expression of deep feeling, “go, my soul, be so kind as to go to Gavrila Andreevich.

Lyubov Lyubimovna poisoned herself in Gavrilin's room. It is not known what they were talking about; but after a while a whole crowd of people moved across the yard in the direction of Gerasim's closet: Gavrila stepped forward, holding his cap in his hand, although there was no wind; footmen and cooks walked around him; Uncle Khvost looked out of the window and gave orders, that is, only spreading his arms like that; behind everyone jumped and grimaced the boys, of which half ran into strangers. On the narrow stairs leading to the closet, one guard was sitting; at the door stood two others, with sticks. They began to climb the stairs, took it to its full length. Gavrila went up to the door, knocked on it with his fist, shouted:

- Open it.

There was a strangled bark; but there was no answer.

They say open up! he repeated.

“Yes, Gavrila Andreevich,” Stepan remarked from below, “after all, he is deaf—he cannot hear. All. laughed.

- How to be? Gavrila retorted from above.

- And he has a hole in the door, - Stepan answered, - so you move a stick. Gavrila bent down.

- He plugged it with some kind of coat, a hole.

- And you shove the coat inside. Here again there was a dull barking.

“You see, you see, it affects itself,” they noticed in the crowd and laughed again.

Gavrila scratched behind his ear.

“No, brother,” he continued at last, “shove the coat yourself, if you like.”

- Well, if you please!

And Stepan climbed up, took a stick, put the coat inside and began to swing the stick in the hole, saying: “Come out, come out!” He was still dangling with a stick, when suddenly the door of the closet flung open quickly - all the servants immediately rolled head over heels down the stairs, Gavrila first of all. Uncle Tail locked the window.

“Well, well, well, well,” Gavrila shouted from the yard, “look at me, look!”

Gerasim stood motionless on the threshold. The crowd had gathered at the foot of the stairs. Gerasim looked at all these people in German coats from above, with his hands slightly at his sides; in his red peasant shirt, he looked like some kind of giant in front of them, Gavrila took a step forward.

“Look, brother,” he said, “don’t be naughty with me. And he began to explain to him with signs that the lady, they say, would certainly demand your dog: give her, they say, now, otherwise you will be in trouble.

Gerasim looked at him, pointed to the dog, made a sign with his hand at his neck, as if tightening a noose, and looked at the butler with an inquiring face.

“Yes, yes,” he objected, nodding his head, “yes, absolutely. Gerasim lowered his eyes, then suddenly shook himself, again pointed to Mumu, who had been standing beside him all the time, innocently wagging her tail and moving her ears curiously, repeated the sign of strangulation over his neck and struck himself significantly in the chest, as if announcing that he himself was taking destroy Mumu on yourself.

“Yes, you will deceive,” Gavrila waved him back. Gerasim looked at him, smiled contemptuously, struck his chest again, and slammed the door. Everyone looked at each other silently.

– What does this mean? - began Gavrila. - Has he locked himself up?

"Leave him alone, Gavrila Andreevich," Stepan said, "he'll do what he promised." He's so... Well, if he promises, it's probably. He is not like our brother. What's true is true. Yes.

“Yes,” they all repeated, shaking their heads. - This is true. Yes.

Uncle Wormtail opened the window and also said, "Yes."

“Well, perhaps we’ll see,” Gavrila objected, “but don’t remove the guard anyway.” Hey you, Eroshka! he added, turning to a pale man in a yellow nanke Cossack who was thought to be a gardener, “what are you going to do? Take a stick and sit here, and just about anything, immediately run to me!

Eroshka took a stick and sat down on the last rung of the stairs. The crowd dispersed, except for a few curious and boys, and Gavrila returned home and, through Lyubov Lyubimovna, ordered to report to the mistress that everything was done, and, just in case, he sent a postillion to the guard. The mistress tied a knot in her handkerchief, poured cologne on it, sniffed it, rubbed her temples, drank some tea, and, still under the influence of cherry-laurel drops, fell asleep again.

An hour later, after all this anxiety, the door of the closet opened, and Gerasim appeared. He was wearing a festive caftan; he led Mumu on a string. “Eroshka stood aside and let him pass. Gerasim went to the gate. The boys and all who were in the yard followed him with their eyes, silently. He did not even turn around: he put on his hat only in the street. Gavrila sent the same Eroshka after him as an observer. Eroshka saw from a distance that he had entered the tavern with the dog, and began to wait for him to come out.

In the tavern they knew Gerasim and understood his signs. He asked for cabbage soup with meat and sat down, leaning his hands on the table. Mumu stood beside his chair, calmly looking at him with her intelligent eyes. The wool on it was so shiny: it was clear that it had recently been combed out. They brought Gerasim cabbage soup. He crumbled some bread into it, finely chopped the meat and put the plate on the floor. Mumu began to eat with her usual politeness, barely touching her muzzle - before the meal. Gerasim looked at her for a long time; two heavy tears suddenly rolled out of his eyes: one fell on the dog's steep forehead, the other into the cabbage soup. He covered his face with his hand. Mumu ate half a plate, I moved away, licking my lips. Gerasim got up, paid for the cabbage soup, and went out, accompanied by a somewhat perplexed look from the officer. Eroshka, seeing Gerasim, ran around the corner and, letting him pass, again went after him.

Gerasim walked slowly and did not let Mumu off the rope. Having reached the corner of the street, he stopped, as if in thought, and suddenly, with quick steps, went straight to the Crimean Ford. On the way, he went into the yard of the house, to which the outhouse was attached, and carried out two bricks from there under his arm. From the Crimean Ford, he turned along the shore, reached a place where there were two boats with oars tied to pegs (he had already noticed them before), and jumped into one of them together with Mumu. A lame old man came out from behind a hut set up in the corner of the garden and shouted at him. But Gerasim only nodded his head and began to row so hard, although against the current of the river, that in an instant he sped off a hundred fathoms. The old man stood for a moment, scratched his back, first with his left hand, then with his right hand, and limped back to the hut.

And Gerasim kept rowing and rowing. Now Moscow is left behind. Meadows, vegetable gardens, fields, groves have already stretched along the banks, huts have appeared. The village blew. He dropped the oars, leaned his head against Mumu, who was sitting in front of him on a dry crossbeam - the bottom was flooded with water - and remained motionless, his mighty arms folded on her back, while the boat was gradually carried back to the city by the wave. Finally, Gerasim straightened up, hurriedly, with some kind of painful anger on his face, wrapped the bricks he had taken with a rope, attached a noose, put it on Mumu’s neck, lifted her over the river, looked at her for the last time ... She looked at him trustingly and without fear and wagged her tail a little. He turned away, screwed up his eyes, and unclenched his hands... Gerasim heard nothing, neither the quick screech of falling Mumu, nor the heavy splash of water; for him the noisiest day was silent and silent, as no quietest night is silent for us, and when he opened his eyes again, small waves were still hurrying along the river, as if chasing each other, they were still splashing on the sides of the boat, and only far back towards the shore did some kind of wide circles run up.

Eroshka, as soon as Gerasim disappeared from his sight, returned home and reported everything he had seen.

“Well, yes,” Stepan remarked, “he will drown her.” You can be calm. When he promised...

During the day no one saw Gerasim. He didn't have lunch at home. Evening has come; everyone gathered for supper except him.

- What a wonderful this Gerasim! squeaked a fat washerwoman, “is it possible to get laid because of a dog! .. Really!

“Yes, Gerasim was here,” Stepan suddenly exclaimed, raking in a spoonful of porridge.

- How? When?

“Yes, two hours ago. How. I met him at the gate; he was walking from here again, coming out of the yard. I was about to ask him about the dog, but he was evidently not in a good mood. Well, and pushed me; he must have just wanted to push me away: they say, don’t pester me, but he brought such an unusual bream to my camp vein, it’s important that oh-oh-oh! And Stepan shrugged his shoulders with an involuntary smile and rubbed the back of his head. “Yes,” he added, “he has a hand, a blessed hand, there is nothing to say.

Everyone laughed at Stepan and after dinner went to bed.

And meanwhile, at that very time, along T ... by the highway, a giant was striding diligently and non-stop, with a bag over his shoulders and with a long stick in his hands. It was Gerasim. He hurried without looking back, hurried home, to his village, to his homeland. Having drowned poor Mumu, he ran to his closet, deftly packed some belongings into an old blanket, tied it in a knot, hoisted it over his shoulder, and that was it. He noticed the road well even when he was being taken to Moscow; the village from which the mistress had taken him lay only twenty-five versts from the highway. He walked along it with a kind of indestructible courage, with a desperate and at the same time joyful determination. He was walking; his chest opened wide; eyes greedily and directly rushed forward. He was in a hurry, as if his old mother was waiting for him at home, as if she was calling him to her after a long wandering in a foreign country, in strange people ... The summer night that had just come was quiet and warm; on the one hand, where the sun had set, the edge of the sky was still white and faintly flushed with the last reflection of the vanishing day; on the other hand, a blue, gray twilight was already rising. The night went on from there. Hundreds of quails rattled around, corncrakes called to one another ... Gerasim could not hear them; like the wind that flew towards him - the wind from the homeland - gently struck his face, played in his hair and beard; I saw a whitening road in front of me - the road home, straight as an arrow; I saw countless stars in the sky that illuminated his path, and like a lion stepped out strongly and cheerfully, so that when the rising sun illuminated with its moist red rays the young man who had just diverged, already thirty-five miles lay between Moscow and him ...

Two days later he was already at home, in his hut, to the great amazement of the soldier who was settled there. After praying before the icons, he immediately went to the elder. The headman was surprised at first; but the haymaking had just begun: Gerasim, as an excellent worker, was immediately given a scythe in his hands - and he went to mow in the old fashion, mow in such a way that the peasants only made their way, looking at his scope and rakes ...

And in Moscow, the day after Gerasim's escape, they missed him. We went to his closet, ransacked it, told Gavrila. He came, looked, shrugged his shoulders and decided that the dumb man had either fled or drowned with his stupid dog. They let the police know, they reported to the mistress. The lady was angry, burst into tears, ordered to find him at all costs, assured that she had never ordered the destruction of the dog, and, finally, gave Gavrila such a scolding that he only shook his head all day and said: “Well!” - until Uncle Wormtail reasoned with him, telling him: "Well!" Finally, news came from the village about the arrival of Gerasim there. The lady calmed down somewhat; at first she gave the order to immediately demand him back to Moscow, then, however, she announced that she did not need such an ungrateful person at all. However, she herself soon died after that; and her heirs had no time for Gerasim: they dismissed the rest of my mother’s people according to dues.

And Gerasim still lives as a bean in his lonely hut; he is still healthy and powerful, and still works for four, and is still important and sedate. But the neighbors noticed that since his return from Moscow he had completely stopped hanging out with women, did not even look at them, and did not keep a single dog with him. “However,” the peasants interpret, “it’s his happiness that he doesn’t need a woman; and the dog - what does he need a dog for? You can’t drag a thief into his yard with a village!” Such is the rumor about the heroic strength of the mute.