This story allows us to conclude that it belongs to the novel genre. The author managed to convey in a short form the life story of the schoolgirl Olya Meshcherskaya, but not only her. According to the definition of the genre, a short story in a unique, small, concrete event should recreate the whole life of the hero, and through it - the life of society. Ivan Alekseevich, through modernism, creates a unique image of a girl who is still dreaming of true love.
Not only Bunin wrote about this feeling (" Easy breath"). The analysis of love was carried out, perhaps, by all the great poets and writers, very different in character and worldview, therefore, many shades of this feeling are presented in Russian literature. Opening the work of the next author, we always find something new. Bunin also has his own Often in his works tragic endings, ending with the death of one of the heroes, but it is rather bright than deeply tragic. We come across a similar ending after reading Easy Breath.
First impression
At first glance, the events seem messy. The girl plays love with an ugly officer, far from the circle to which the heroine belonged. In the story, the author uses the so-called method of "proof from the return", because even with such vulgar external events, love remains something untouched and bright, does not touch everyday dirt. Arriving at Olya's grave, the class teacher asks herself how to combine all this with a clear look at "that terrible thing" that is now associated with the name of the schoolgirl. This question does not require an answer, which is present in the entire text of the work. They are permeated through Bunin's story "Easy breathing".
The character of the main character
Olya Meshcherskaya seems to be the embodiment of youth, thirsty for love, a lively and dreamy heroine. Her image, contrary to the laws of public morality, captivates almost everyone, even junior classes. And even the guardian of morals, Olya's teacher, who condemned her for early adulthood, after the death of the heroine, he comes to the cemetery to her grave every week, constantly thinks about her and at the same time even feels, "like all people devoted to a dream," happy.
character trait main character the story is that she longs for happiness and can find it even in such an ugly reality in which she had to find herself. Bunin uses "light breathing" as a metaphor for naturalness, vital energy. the so-called "lightness of breath" is invariably present in Olya, surrounding her with a special halo. People feel this and therefore are drawn to the girl, while not even being able to explain why. She infects everyone with her joy.
contrasts
Bunin's work "Light Breath" is built on contrasts. From the very first lines, a double feeling arises: a deserted, sad cemetery, a cold wind, a gray April day. And against this background - a portrait of a schoolgirl with lively, joyful eyes - a photograph on the cross. Olya's whole life is also built on contrast. cloudless childhood opposed tragic events that took place in Last year the life of the heroine of the story "Easy breathing". Ivan Bunin often emphasizes the contrast, the gap between the real and the apparent, internal state and the outside world.
Storyline
The plot of the work is quite simple. The happy young schoolgirl Olya Meshcherskaya first becomes the prey of her father's friend, an elderly voluptuary, after which she becomes a living target for the aforementioned officer. Her death inspires a classy lady - a lonely woman - to "serve" her memory. However, the apparent simplicity of this plot is violated by a striking contrast: a heavy cross and lively, joyful eyes, which involuntarily makes the reader's heart shrink. The simplicity of the plot turned out to be deceptive, since the story "Light Breath" (Ivan Bunin) is not only about the fate of a girl, but also about the unfortunate fate of a classy lady who is used to living someone else's life. Olya's relationship with the officer is also interesting.
Relationship with an officer
The already mentioned officer, according to the plot of the story, kills Olya Meshcherskaya, involuntarily misled by her game. He did this because he was close to her, believed that she loved him, and could not survive the destruction of this illusion. Far from any person can evoke such strong passion. This speaks of Olya's bright personality, says Bunin ("Easy Breath"). The act of the main character was cruel, but, as you might guess, having a special character, she intoxicated the officer unintentionally. Olya Meshcherskaya was looking for a dream in a relationship with him, but she could not find it.
Is Olya to blame?
Ivan Alekseevich believed that birth is not the beginning, and therefore death is not the end of the existence of the soul, the symbol of which is the definition used by Bunin - "light breathing". Its analysis in the text of the work allows us to conclude that this concept is souls. She does not disappear without a trace after death, but returns to the source. About this, and not only about the fate of Olya, the work "Light Breath".
It is not by chance that Ivan Bunin drags out the explanation of the causes of the death of the heroine. The question arises: "Maybe she is to blame for what happened?" After all, she is frivolous, flirting now with the high school student Shenshin, then, albeit unconsciously, with her father's friend Alexei Mikhailovich Malyutin, who seduced her, then for some reason promises the officer to marry him. Why did she need all this? Bunin ("Easy breathing") analyzes the motives of the heroine's actions. Gradually it becomes clear that Olya is beautiful, like an element. And just as immoral. She strives in everything to reach the depth, to the limit, to the innermost essence, and the opinion of others is not interested in the heroine of the work "Easy Breath". Ivan Bunin wanted to tell us that in the actions of the schoolgirl there is neither a sense of revenge, nor a meaningful vice, nor firmness of decisions, nor the pain of repentance. It turns out that the feeling of fullness of life can be fatal. Tragic (like a classy lady) even unconscious longing for her. Therefore, every step, every detail of Olya's life threatens with disaster: prank and curiosity can lead to serious consequences, to violence, and a frivolous game with other people's feelings can lead to murder. To such philosophical thought Bunin brings us down.
"Light breath" of life
The essence of the heroine is that she lives, and not just plays a role in the play. This is also her fault. To be alive without observing the rules of the game means to be doomed. The environment in which Meshcherskaya exists is completely devoid of a holistic, organic sense of beauty. Life here is subject to strict rules, the violation of which leads to inevitable retribution. Therefore, the fate of Olya turns out to be tragic. Her death is natural, Bunin believes. "Easy breathing", however, did not die with the heroine, but dissolved in the air, filling it with itself. In the finale, the thought of the immortality of the soul sounds like this.
In the cemetery, over a fresh earthen mound, there is a new cross made of oak, strong, heavy, smooth.
April, the days are gray; the monuments of the cemetery, spacious, county, are still far away visible through the bare trees, and the cold wind tinkles and tinkles the china wreath at the foot of the cross.
A rather large, convex porcelain medallion is embedded in the cross itself, and in the medallion is a photographic portrait of a schoolgirl with joyful, amazingly lively eyes.
This is Olya Meshcherskaya.
As a girl, she did not stand out in any way in the crowd of brown gymnasium dresses: what could be said about her, except that she was one of the pretty, rich and happy girls, that she was capable, but playful and very careless about the instructions that she was given by cool lady? Then it began to flourish, to develop by leaps and bounds. At fourteen, she had thin waist and slender legs, breasts and all those forms were already well outlined, the charm of which the human word has never yet expressed; at fifteen she was already a beauty. How carefully some of her friends combed their hair, how clean they were, how they watched their restrained movements! And she was not afraid of anything - not ink spots on her fingers, not a flushed face, not disheveled hair, not a knee that became naked when she fell on the run. Without any of her worries and efforts, and somehow imperceptibly, everything that so distinguished her in the last two years from the whole gymnasium came to her - grace, elegance, dexterity, a clear sparkle in her eyes ... Nobody danced at balls like Olya Meshcherskaya , no one ran on skates like she did, no one was looked after at balls as much as she was, and for some reason no one was loved as much by the lower classes as she was. She imperceptibly became a girl, and her gymnasium fame imperceptibly strengthened, and there were already rumors that she was windy, could not live without admirers, that the schoolboy Shenshin was madly in love with her, that she seemed to love him too, but was so changeable in her treatment of him. that he attempted suicide...
During her last winter, Olya Meshcherskaya went completely crazy with fun, as they said in the gymnasium. The winter was snowy, sunny, frosty, the sun set early behind the high spruce forest of the snowy gymnasium garden, invariably fine, radiant, promising frost and sun tomorrow, a walk on Cathedral Street, a skating rink in the city garden, pink evening, music and this in all directions the crowd sliding on the skating rink, in which Olya Meshcherskaya seemed the most carefree, the happiest. And then one day, at a big break, when she was running like a whirlwind around the assembly hall from the first-graders chasing after her and squealing blissfully, she was unexpectedly called to the headmistress. She stopped in a hurry, took only one deep breath, straightened her hair with a quick and already familiar female movement, pulled the corners of her apron to her shoulders and, beaming her eyes, ran upstairs. The headmistress, youthful but gray-haired, sat calmly with knitting in her hands at the desk, under the royal portrait.
“Hello, mademoiselle Meshcherskaya,” she said in French, without looking up from her knitting. “Unfortunately, this is not the first time I have been forced to call you here to speak with you about your behavior.
“I’m listening, madam,” Meshcherskaya replied, going up to the table, looking at her clearly and vividly, but without any expression on her face, and sat down as easily and gracefully as she alone could.
“It will be bad for you to listen to me, I, unfortunately, was convinced of this,” said the headmistress, and, pulling the thread and twisting a ball on the lacquered floor, at which Meshcherskaya looked with curiosity, she raised her eyes. “I won't repeat myself, I won't talk at length,” she said.
Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually clean and large office, which breathed so well in frosty days the warmth of a brilliant dutch and the freshness of lilies of the valley on the desk. She looked at the young king, painted to his full height in the midst of some brilliant hall, at the even parting in the milky, neatly frilled hair of the boss, and was expectantly silent.
“You are no longer a girl,” the headmistress said meaningfully, secretly starting to get annoyed.
“Yes, madam,” Meshcherskaya answered simply, almost cheerfully.
“But not a woman either,” the headmistress said even more significantly, and her matte face flushed slightly. First of all, what is this hairstyle? It's a woman's hairstyle!
“It’s not my fault, madame, that I have good hair,” Meshcherskaya answered, and slightly touched her beautifully trimmed head with both hands.
“Ah, that’s how it is, it’s not your fault! - said the headmistress. “You are not to blame for your hair, you are not to blame for these expensive combs, you are not to blame for ruining your parents for shoes worth twenty rubles!” But, I repeat to you, you completely lose sight of the fact that you are still only a schoolgirl...
And then Meshcherskaya, without losing her simplicity and calmness, suddenly politely interrupted her:
“Excuse me, madame, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And to blame for this - you know who? Friend and neighbor of the pope, and your brother Alexei Mikhailovich Malyutin. It happened last summer in the village...
And a month after this conversation, a Cossack officer, ugly and plebeian in appearance, who had absolutely nothing to do with the circle to which Olya Meshcherskaya belonged, shot her on the station platform, among a large crowd of people who had just arrived with the train. And the incredible confession of Olya Meshcherskaya, which stunned the boss, was completely confirmed: the officer told the judicial investigator that Meshcherskaya had lured him, was close to him, swore to be his wife, and at the station, on the day of the murder, seeing him off to Novocherkassk, she suddenly told him that she and never thought to love him, that all this talk about marriage was just her mockery of him, and gave him to read that page of the diary that spoke about Malyutin.
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The story "Easy breathing" is dedicated to eternal problems- beauty and death, love and separation, freedom and necessity.
Basic compositional principle story is a contrast. With its help, the image of the main character is created, the author's position is expressed.
From the very beginning, a dual feeling arises: a sad, deserted cemetery, a gray April day, bare trees, a cold wind “rings and rings a porcelain wreath at the foot of the cross”, “strong, heavy, smooth”, and on the cross “a photographic portrait of a schoolgirl with joyful, amazingly lively eyes. Death and life, sadness and joy are the symbol of the fate of Olya Meshcherskaya.
Bunin creates complex composition- from the fact of death to the childhood of the heroine, then to the recent past and its origins.
The author expressively conveys the strange logic of Olya's behavior. Circling through life: at balls, at the rink, in the gymnasium, the rapidity of change, unexpected actions. “She has completely lost her mind,” they say about her; “I went completely crazy,” she says.
The tragedy of the girl's fate is largely predetermined by the monotony and soullessness of her environment. Around her are extremely indifferent people, the chain of which closes with the last link - the “cool lady”.
Olino's inner burning is genuine and could evoke a great feeling. If not for the crazy fluttering through life, not for the primitive idea of happiness, not for the vulgar environment. The author reveals not only the beauty of the girl, but also her undeveloped spiritual abilities. They, according to the writer, cannot disappear, just as the craving for beauty, fortunately, for perfection, never disappears.
At the end of the story, Olya tells her friend that she read in one book what beauty a woman should have. She really possessed a light, natural breath - a thirst for some special, unique fate, worthy only of the elect.
The theme of love is devoted to many works by I.A. Bunin and the whole cycle of stories " Dark alleys". "All the stories in this book are only about love, about its "dark" and most often very gloomy and cruel alleys," Bunin wrote in one of his letters. Bunin himself considered this book to be the most perfect in skill. Bunin sang not platonic, but sensual love, surrounded by a romantic halo. Love, in the understanding of Bunin, is contraindicated in everyday life, any duration, even in a desired marriage, it is an insight, " sunstroke", often leading to death. He describes love in all its states, where it barely dawns and will never come true ("Old Port"), and where the unrecognized one languishes ("Ida"), and where it turns into passion ("Killer" ) Love captures all thoughts, all the spiritual and physical potentials of a person - but this state cannot last long. So that love does not run out of steam, does not exhaust itself, it is necessary to part - and forever, If the heroes themselves do not do this, then fate interferes in their life , fate: one of the lovers dies.The story "Mitya's love" ends with the suicide of the hero.Death is interpreted here as the only way to liberation from love.
The stories of the cycle “Dark Alleys” are an example of an amazing Russian psychological prose in which love has always been one of those eternal secrets, which the artists of the word sought to reveal. Ivan Alekseevich Bunin, in my opinion, was one of those brilliant writers who came closest to unraveling this mystery.
The book "Dark Alleys" is usually called the "encyclopedia of love." I. A. Bunin in this cycle of stories tried to show the relationship of two with different sides, in all its variety of manifestations. “Dark Alleys” is the writer's favorite brainchild, which has been created for many years. Here the author's thoughts about love were embodied. This was the topic to which Bunin devoted all his creative energy. The book is as multifaceted as love itself. The name “Dark Alleys” was taken by Bunin from N. Ogaryov’s poem “ ordinary story". It is about the first love, which did not end with the union of two lives. The image of "dark alleys" comes from there, but there is no story with that title in the book, as one might expect. It's just a symbol general mood all stories. Bunin believed that a true, high feeling not only never has a successful ending, but even has the property of avoiding marriage. The writer has said this over and over again. He also quite seriously quoted Byron's words: "It is often easier to die for a woman than to live with her." Love is the intensity of feelings, passions. A person, alas, cannot always be on the rise. He will certainly begin to fall precisely when he has reached the highest point in anything. After all, above high peak don't get up! In "Dark Alleys" we do not find a description of the irresistible attraction of two people, which would end in a wedding and a happy family life. Even if the heroes decide to tie their fates, last moment a catastrophe occurs, something unforeseen that destroys both lives. Often such a catastrophe is death. It seems that it is easier for Bunin to imagine the death of a hero or heroine at the very beginning. life path than their joint existence during for long years. To live to old age and die on the same day - for Bunin, this is not at all the ideal of happiness, rather, on the contrary. Thus, Bunin, as it were, stops time at the highest take-off of feelings. Love reaches its climax, but it knows no fall. We will never meet a story that tells of the gradual fading of passion. It breaks off at a moment when the routine has not yet had time to have a detrimental effect on feelings. However, such fatal outcomes do not in the least exclude the credibility and plausibility of the stories. It was alleged that Bunin spoke of cases from own life. But he did not agree with this - the situations are completely fictional. The characters of the heroines, he often wrote with real women. The book “Dark Alleys” is a whole gallery portraits of women. Here you can meet early grown-up girls, and self-confident young women, and respectable ladies, and prostitutes, and models, and peasant women. Each portrait, written in short strokes, is surprisingly real. One can only be surprised at the talent of the author, who knew how to present to us in a few words such different women. The main thing is that all the characters are surprisingly Russian and the action almost always takes place in Russia. Women's images play in stories leading role, male - auxiliary, secondary. More attention is paid to male emotions, their reactions to various situations, their feelings. The heroes of the stories themselves recede into the background, into the fog. The stories also amaze with a huge variety of shades of love: the simple-hearted, but indestructible attachment of a peasant girl to the master who seduced her (“Tanya”); fleeting dacha hobbies (“Zoyka and Valeria”); a short one-day novel (“Antigone”, “ Business Cards”); passion leading to suicide (“Galya Ganskaya”); the ingenuous confession of a young prostitute (“Madrid”). In a word, love in all possible manifestations. It appears in any guise: it can be a poetic, sublime feeling, a moment of enlightenment, or, conversely, an irresistible physical attraction without spiritual intimacy. But whatever it may be, for Bunin it is only a brief moment, a lightning bolt in fate. The heroine of the story Cold autumn”, who lost her fiancé, loves him for thirty years and believes that in her life there was only one autumn evening, and everything else is “unnecessary sleep”. In many stories of the cycle, Bunin describes female body. This is something sacred for him, the embodiment true beauty. These descriptions never descend to crude naturalism. The writer knows how to find words to describe the most intimate human relationships without any vulgarity. Without a doubt, this is given only at the cost of great creative torment, but it is easy to read, in one breath. I. A. Bunin in the cycle of stories “Dark Alleys” managed to display many facets of human relations, created a whole galaxy female images. And what unites all this diversity is the feeling to which Bunin dedicated most his creativity - Love.
Analysis of the story by I. Bunin "Easy breathing"
Man is the reason for the explosion.
(Why do volcanoes explode?).
Sometimes volcanoes explode with treasures.
Letting it explode is more than getting it.
M. Tsvetaeva.
Starting to write this essay, I set myself the goal of understanding why people who are extraordinary, unusual, people who "explode with treasures" remain unrecognized, rejected by society. Olya Meshcherskaya is one of those people. Radiating unfading light, good spirits, cheerfulness, lightness, it aroused envy in some, hostility in others. Although all these people, it seems to me, deep down admired her carelessness, courage, admired her fate, behavior, her unbridled happiness. Undoubtedly, the personality of Olya Meshcherskaya, her character and lifestyle are ambiguous. On the one hand, this strong personality lives without fear of being misunderstood. But on the other hand, Olya is unable to resist society, she cannot withstand this cruel struggle with prejudices, "moral foundations" that the crowd creates, a gray and faceless mass of people who do not have an individuality, do not have their own life, condemning even attempts to live like this. as you like. "She was not afraid of anything - neither an ink stain on her fingers, nor a flushed face, nor disheveled hair, nor a knee that became naked when she fell on the run" - that's what you should admire! That's something to be jealous of! rare person can behave so fearlessly, without thinking about the consequences, doing everything sincerely and easily. All her words, actions (that is, deeds) - all this came from pure heart. She lived for today, not afraid of the future, truly enjoying life. To be honest, I'm jealous! I probably could not live like this, behave so carelessly, and few people could. This is the uniqueness of Olya, her individuality, such a fate as a gift, she should be proud of. The idea of the story is in the contradiction of two worlds: gray, boring, faceless society and light, bright inner peace Olya Meshcherskaya. Here is an interpersonal conflict: "... rumors spread that she (Olya) is windy, cannot live without fans ..." The society did not accept Olya's behavior, because it went beyond it, Olya, in turn, perhaps even with excessive treated with ease increased attention surrounding. Every time underestimating the enemy, a person is doomed to defeat in the fight. Here, in Easy Breath, the conflict between the two worlds is also reflected in the landscape: on the one hand, "... April, the days are gray; a cold wind rings a wreath at the foot of the cross," and on the other, a medallion in which "a photographic portrait of a schoolgirl with joyful, amazingly lively eyes. And this lightness, joy, liveliness is everywhere. Reading the story, you become infected with that seething, seething energy of Olya, you are as if pierced by biocurrents sent by the high school student Meshcherskaya: "elegance, elegance, dexterity, a clear sparkle in her eyes", "Olya Meshcherskaya seemed the most carefree, the happiest", "beaming her eyes, she ran upstairs" , "... looking at her clearly and vividly", "... as easily and gracefully as only she could do it", "... Meshcherskaya answered simply, almost cheerfully." Olya's carelessness and desire to know everything led her to a dead end. This is the main contradiction: living her own destiny, Olya discovered new world, but at the same time, wanting everything at once, without thinking about the meaning of her life, she hopelessly lost her childhood, youth, youth. Too early, she knew the vulgar side of love, never unraveling the mystery of romantic feelings. Only later, realizing this, or rather, feeling fear, disappointment and shame, perhaps for the first time in her life, Olya was frightened: “I don’t understand how this could happen, I went crazy, I never thought that I was like that. Now I have one way out ... I feel such disgust for him that I can’t survive this! .. " Only now it becomes clear how weak Olya is. She is unable to fight. Having descended from heaven to earth, she was frightened. And the only possible way out of this situation for her is death. Olya understood this well. I believe death was the natural result of her reckless behavior. Many questions arise when you re-read the text again and again. Malyutin and this Cossack officer who killed Olya - is it one person or not? And the woman we see at the grave of Meshcherskaya at the end of the story, and the boss? It is difficult to answer unambiguously. One thing is clear: in principle, and it does not matter, because these people are a crowd, and it is not at all necessary to know who they are, because they are all, in fact, the same. The only one vivid image in the story - Olya Meshcherskaya, and Bunin draws her to us in all details, for people like her are few. “Now Olya Meshcherskaya is the subject of her relentless thoughts and feelings,” we are talking about the worship of the classy lady Olya as an ideal. Due to such people, the world exists: they give others that energy, that lightness, which is lacking in the world of mere mortals. Although these people are weak and unable to resist both their passions and the contempt of others, people like Olya live their allotted time with dignity, in pleasure. And even one human destiny, I believe, is capable of turning the whole world upside down, which a faceless crowd can never do. The high school student Olya, a young girl who was just beginning to live, left a deep mark on the soul of everyone who knew her story. Behind short period In her life, she was able to do what many fail to do in a lifetime: she stood out from the crowd. "... But the main thing, you know what? Light breathing! But I have it, - you listen to me sigh, - is it true?" Of course, she had this lightness that she gave to everyone. "Is it possible that under it (under the porcelain wreath) is the one whose eyes shine so immortally from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross ..?" Of course not, only the body is buried in the earth, but Olya's life, her smile, her pure look, her lightness will forever remain in the hearts of people: "Now this light breath has again dissipated in the world, in this cloudy sky, in this cold spring wind." Such people are immortal, because they give life to others, full, real, genuine life. So why was Olya rejected by society? There is only one answer: envy. All those faceless beings envied her" black envy". Realizing that they will never become SUCH as Meshcherskaya, people made her an outcast. The stubborn crowd did not want to accept anything that did not fit into its framework. But the main trouble of people like Olya is not this. They just live their lives, completely forget about harsh reality, which does not cost anything to break all their dreams, joys, their whole life. But nevertheless, I admire Olya Meshcherskaya, her talent to live beautifully, wrong, but interesting, small, but bright and easy!!! …It’s a pity that light breathing is rare.
In the cemetery, over a fresh earthen mound, there is a new cross
oak, strong, heavy, smooth.
April, the days are gray; cemetery monuments, spacious,
district, still far visible through the bare trees, and cold
the wind chimes and chimes the porcelain wreath at the foot of the cross.
A fairly large, convex
a porcelain medallion, and in the medallion a photographic portrait
schoolgirls with joyful, amazingly lively eyes.
This is Olya Meshcherskaya.
As a girl, she did not stand out in a crowd of brown
gymnasium dresses: what could be said about her, except
that she is one of the pretty, rich and happy
girls that she is capable, but playful and very careless to those
instructions given to her by the classy lady? Then she became
flourish, develop by leaps and bounds. At fourteen
her years, with a thin waist and slender legs, are already well
breasts and all those forms, the charm of which is still
never expressed the human word; at fifteen she was reputed
already a beauty. How carefully some of her
friends, how clean they were, how they looked after their
restrained movements! And she was not afraid of anything - not
ink stains on the fingers, no flushed face, no
disheveled hair, not naked when falling on the run
knee. Without any of her worries and efforts, and somehow imperceptibly came
to her everything that so distinguished her in the last two years from all
gymnasium - grace, elegance, dexterity, clear brilliance
eye ... Nobody danced like Olya Meshcherskaya at balls,
no one ran as fast on skates as she did, no one at the balls did not
courted as much as for her, and for some reason did not love anyone
so junior classes like her. Imperceptibly she became a girl, and
her gymnasium fame has imperceptibly strengthened, and rumors have already begun,
that she is windy, cannot live without admirers, that she
the schoolboy Shenshin is madly in love, as if she loves him too,
but so volatile in her treatment of him that he encroached on
suicide.
Olya Meshcherskaya went completely crazy during her last winter.
fun, as they said in the gymnasium. The winter was snowy, sunny,
frosty, the sun went down early behind a tall snowy spruce forest
gymnasium garden, invariably fine, radiant, promising and
frost and sun for tomorrow, a walk on Cathedral Street, a skating rink in
city garden, pink evening, music and this one in all directions
the crowd sliding on the skating rink, in which Olya Meshcherskaya seemed
the most carefree, the happiest. And then one day, on a big
change as she whirled around the assembly hall from
chasing her and blissfully squealing first-graders, her
unexpectedly called to the boss. She stopped running
took only one deep breath, quick and already familiar
straightened her hair with a feminine gesture, pulled the corners of her apron to
shoulders and, beaming eyes, ran upstairs. chief, youthful,
but gray-haired, calmly sat with knitting in her hands at a written
table, under the royal portrait.
"Hello, mademoiselle Meshcherskaya," she said
in French, without looking up from knitting. - I, unfortunately,
this is not the first time I have been compelled to call you here in order to
talk to you about your behavior.
"I'm listening, madam," answered Meshcherskaya, going up to
table, looking at her clearly and vividly, but without any expression on
face, and crouched as lightly and gracefully as she
knew how.
- You will listen to me badly, I, unfortunately, was convinced
in this,” said the headmistress, and, pulling the thread and twisting it
lacquered floor, a tangle, which I looked at with curiosity
Meshcherskaya, raised her eyes. - I will not repeat myself, I will not
talk at length, she said.
Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually clean and
a large office that breathed warmly on frosty days
brilliant dutch and the freshness of lilies of the valley on the desk.
She looked at the young king, written to his full height among
some brilliant hall, in an even parting in the dairy,
neatly crimped hair of the boss and expectantly
was silent.
"You're not a girl anymore," she said pointedly.
boss, secretly starting to get annoyed.
"Yes, madame," Meshcherskaya answered simply, almost cheerfully.
"But not a woman either," said the
boss, and her dull face turned a little red.-- First of all--
what is this hairstyle? It's a woman's hairstyle!
- It's not my fault, madame, that I have good hair -
answered Meshcherskaya, and slightly touched her beautifully with both hands.
removed head.
"Ah, that's how it is, you're not to blame!" said the headmistress.
You are not to blame for the hair, not to blame for these expensive combs,
not to blame for ruining your parents for shoes in
twenty rubles! But, I repeat to you, you are completely missing out on
mind that you are still only a high school student ...
And then Meshcherskaya, without losing her simplicity and calmness, suddenly
interrupted her politely:
“Forgive me, madam, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And to blame
this - you know who? Dad's friend and neighbor, and your brother Alexei
Mikhailovich Malyutin. It happened last summer in the village...
And a month after this conversation, the Cossack officer,
ugly and of a plebeian appearance, who had absolutely nothing in common with
the circle to which Olya Meshcherskaya belonged, shot her
on the station platform, among a large crowd of people, just
arrived by train. And the incredible, stunned boss
Olya Meshcherskaya's confession was completely confirmed: the officer declared
to the judicial investigator that Meshcherskaya lured him, was with him
close, swore to be his wife, and at the station, on the day
murder, seeing him off to Novocherkassk, suddenly told him that
she never thought to love him, what all this talk about
marriage - one of her mockery of him, and gave him to read that
page of the diary, where it was said about Malyutin.
“I ran through these lines and right there, on the platform where she
walked, waiting for me to finish reading, shot at her -
said the officer. - This diary, here it is, look what happened
written in it on the tenth of July last year. The diary was
the following is written: "It is now the second hour of the night. I fell asleep soundly,
but I woke up at once ... Today I have become a woman! dad, mom and
Tolya, everyone left for the city, I was left alone. I was so
happy to be alone! In the morning I walked in the garden, in the field, I was in
forest, it seemed to me that I was alone in the whole world, and I thought so
good as ever. I dined alone, then whole hour
played, to the music I had the feeling that I would live
without end and I will be as happy as anyone. Then I fell asleep at my dad's
in the office, and at four o'clock Katya woke me up, said that
Alexei Mikhailovich arrived. I was very happy with him, I was
so nice to take it and borrow it. He came with a pair of his
vyatok, very beautiful, and they stood at the porch all the time, he
stayed because it was raining and he wanted to
dried up. He regretted that he did not find his father, he was very animated and
behaved with me as a gentleman, he joked a lot that he had long
in love with me. When we were walking in the garden before tea, there was again
lovely weather, the sun shone through the wet garden, though
it became quite cold, and he led me by the arm and said that he
Faust with Marguerite. He is fifty-six years old, but he is still very
handsome and always well dressed - the only thing I didn't like was that
he arrived in a lionfish, - it smells of English cologne, and his eyes
very young, black, and the beard is elegantly divided into two
long pieces and completely silver. We sat for tea
glass veranda, I felt as if I was unwell and
lay down on the ottoman, and he smoked, then moved to me, became again
say some kindness, then consider and kiss
my hand. I covered my face with a silk handkerchief, and several times he
kissed me on the lips through a handkerchief ... I don’t understand how it
could happen, I went crazy, I never thought that I
such! Now I have one way out ... I feel this way for him
I'm disgusted that I can't get over this!"
During these April days, the city became clean, dry, its stones
turned white, and it is easy and pleasant to walk on them. Every Sunday,
after mass, along Cathedral Street leading to the exit from the city,
a little woman in mourning, in black kid
gloves, with an ebony umbrella. She crosses the highway
dirty square, where there are a lot of smoky forges and a fresh breeze
field air; further, between monastery and sharp,
the cloudy slope of the sky turns white and the spring field turns gray, and then,
when you make your way among the puddles under the wall of the monastery and turn
to the left, you will see, as it were, a large low garden, surrounded by white
fence, above the gate of which the Assumption of the Mother of God is written.
A small woman crosses herself small and habitually walks along the main
alley. Having reached the bench opposite the oak cross, she sits on
wind and in the spring cold for an hour or two, until she is completely chilled
legs in light boots and a hand in a narrow husky. Listening to the spring
birds singing sweetly and in the cold, listening to the sound of the wind in porcelain
wreath, she sometimes thinks that she would give half her life, if only not
was before her eyes this dead wreath. This wreath, this
mound, oak cross! Is it possible that under him is the one whose eyes
so immortally shine from this convex porcelain locket
on the cross, and how to combine with this pure look that terrible,
what is now connected with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya? - But deep down
the soul of a small woman is happy, like all devotees
some passionate dream people.
This woman is a classy lady Olya Meshcherskaya, middle-aged
a girl who has long been living on some fiction that replaces her
real life. At first, her brother, poor
and an unremarkable ensign, - she combined all her
soul with him, with his future, which for some reason seemed
her brilliant. When he was killed near Mukden, she convinced herself
that she is an ideological worker. The death of Olya Meshcherskaya captivated her
new dream. Now Olya Meshcherskaya is the subject of her relentless
thoughts and feelings. She goes to her grave every holiday, by the hour
does not take his eyes off the oak cross, remembers the pale face
Olya Meshcherskaya in the coffin, among the flowers - and the fact that one day
overheard: once, at a big break, walking along
gymnasium garden, Olya Meshcherskaya spoke quickly, quickly
to his beloved friend, full, tall Subbotina:
- I'm in one of my father's books - he has a lot of old
funny books - I read what beauty a woman should have ...
There, you know, so much is said that you can’t remember everything: well,
of course, black eyes boiling with tar - by God, so
it is written: boiling with resin! - black as night, eyelashes, gently
a playful blush, a thin camp, longer than an ordinary arm, -
you know, longer than usual! - a small leg, in moderation
big breasts, correctly rounded calf, color knees
shells, sloping shoulders - I learned a lot almost by heart, so
all this is true! But the main thing, you know what? -- Easy breath!
But I have it - you listen to how I sigh - after all
is there really?
Bunin Ivan Alekseevich (1870 - 1953) was born on October 10 in Voronezh in noble family. Childhood years passed in family estate on the farm of Butyrka, Oryol province, among the "sea of bread, herbs, flowers", "in the deepest silence of the field" under the supervision of a teacher and educator, "a strange man", who carried away his student with painting, from which he "had a rather long insanity", in the rest gave little.
In 1889, Bunin left the estate and was forced to look for work in order to secure a modest existence for himself (he worked as a proofreader, statistician, librarian, and collaborated in a newspaper). Often he moved - he lived either in Orel, then in Kharkov, then in Poltava, then in Moscow. In 1891, his collection Poems was published, full of impressions from his native Oryol region.
Ivan Bunin in 1894 in Moscow met with L. Tolstoy, who kindly received the young Bunin, the next year he met A. Chekhov. In 1895, the story "To the End of the World" was published, which was well received by critics. Inspired by success, Bunin completely turns to literary creativity.
In 1898, a collection of poems "Under open sky", in 1901 - the collection "Leaf Fall", for which he was awarded highest award Academy of Sciences - Pushkin Prize(1903). In 1899 he met M. Gorky, who attracted him to cooperate in the publishing house "Knowledge", where he appeared best stories that time: " Antonov apples(1900), "Pines" and " new road"(1901), "Chernozem" (1904).
Gorky writes: "... if they say about him: this is the best stylist of our time - there will be no exaggeration." In 1909 Bunin became an honorary member Russian Academy Sciences. The story The Village, published in 1910, brought its author wide readership. In 1911 - the story "Dry Valley" - a chronicle of the degeneration of the estate nobility. In subsequent years, a series of significant short stories and novellas appeared: " ancient man", "Ignat", "Zakhar Vorobyov", " A good life"," Gentleman from San Francisco ".
Hostilely meeting October revolution, the writer left Russia forever in 1920. Through the Crimea, and then through Constantinople, he emigrated to France and settled in Paris. Everything written by him in exile concerned Russia, Russian people, Russian nature: Mowers, Bast Shoes, Far, Mitina's Love, the cycle of short stories Dark Alleys, the novel Arseniev's Life, 1930, etc. .
In 1933 Bunin was awarded the Nobel Prize.
Bunin lived long life, survived the invasion of fascism in Paris, rejoiced at the victory over him.
In the cemetery, over a fresh earthen mound, there is a new cross made of oak, strong, heavy, smooth.
April, the days are gray; the monuments of the cemetery, spacious, county, are still far away visible through the bare trees, and the cold wind tinkles and tinkles the china wreath at the foot of the cross.
A fairly large, convex porcelain medallion is embedded in the cross itself, and in the medallion is a photographic portrait of a schoolgirl with joyful, amazingly lively eyes.
This is Olya Meshcherskaya.
As a girl, she did not stand out in the crowd of brown gymnasium dresses: what could be said about her, except that she was one of the pretty, rich and happy girls, that she was capable, but playful and very careless about the instructions that a classy lady gives her ?
Then it began to flourish, to develop by leaps and bounds. At fourteen, with a thin waist and slender legs, her breasts and all those forms were already well outlined, the charm of which the human word had never yet expressed; at fifteen she was already a beauty. How carefully some of her friends combed their hair, how clean they were, how they watched their restrained movements!
And she was not afraid of anything - neither ink stains on her fingers, nor a flushed face, nor disheveled hair, nor a knee that became naked when she fell on the run. Without any of her worries and efforts, and somehow imperceptibly, everything that had so distinguished her in the last two years from the whole gymnasium came to her - grace, elegance, dexterity, a clear sparkle in her eyes ...
No one danced at balls like Olya Meshcherskaya, no one ran like she did on skates, no one was looked after at balls as much as she was, and for some reason no one was loved as much by the younger classes as she was. She imperceptibly became a girl, and her gymnasium fame imperceptibly strengthened, and there were already rumors that she was windy, could not live without admirers, that the schoolboy Shenshin was madly in love with her, that she seemed to love him too, but was so changeable in her treatment of him. that he attempted suicide.
During her last winter, Olya Meshcherskaya went completely crazy with fun, as they said in the gymnasium. The winter was snowy, sunny, frosty, the sun set early behind the high spruce forest of the snowy gymnasium garden, invariably fine, radiant, promising frost and sun tomorrow, a walk on Cathedral Street, a skating rink in the city garden, pink evening, music and this in all directions the crowd sliding on the skating rink, in which Olya Meshcherskaya seemed the most carefree, the happiest.
And then one day, at a big break, when she was running like a whirlwind around the assembly hall from the first-graders chasing after her and squealing blissfully, she was unexpectedly called to the headmistress. She stopped in a hurry, took only one deep breath, straightened her hair with a quick and already familiar female movement, pulled the corners of her apron to her shoulders and, beaming her eyes, ran upstairs. The headmistress, youthful but gray-haired, sat calmly with knitting in her hands at the desk, under the royal portrait.
Hello, mademoiselle Meshcherskaya,” she said in French, without looking up from her knitting. “Unfortunately, this is not the first time I have been forced to call you here to talk to you about your behavior.
I’m listening, madam,” Meshcherskaya answered, going up to the table, looking at her clearly and vividly, but without any expression on her face, and sat down as lightly and gracefully as she alone could.
You will listen to me badly, I, unfortunately, was convinced of this, ”said the boss, and, pulling the thread and twisting a ball on the lacquered floor, at which Meshcherskaya looked with curiosity, she raised her eyes.“ I will not repeat myself, I will not speak at length, - she said.
Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually clean and large office, which on frosty days breathed so well with the warmth of a brilliant Dutch and the freshness of lilies of the valley on the desk. She looked at the young king, painted to his full height in the midst of some brilliant hall, at the even parting in the milky, neatly frilled hair of the boss, and was expectantly silent.
You are no longer a girl, - the headmistress said meaningfully, secretly starting to get annoyed.
Yes, madame, Meshcherskaya answered simply, almost cheerfully.
But not woman, still the headmistress said more meaningfully, and her dull face flushed slightly. “First of all, what kind of hairstyle is this?” It's a woman's hairstyle!
It’s not my fault, madame, that I have good hair, ”Meshcherskaya answered, and slightly touched her beautifully trimmed head with both hands.
Oh, that's how, you're not to blame! - said the headmistress. - You are not to blame for your hair, you are not to blame for these expensive combs, you are not to blame for ruining your parents for shoes worth twenty rubles! But, I repeat to you, you completely lose sight of the fact that you are still only a schoolgirl...
And then Meshcherskaya, without losing her simplicity and calmness, suddenly politely interrupted her:
Excuse me, madam, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And to blame for this - you know who? Friend and neighbor of the pope, and your brother Alexei Mikhailovich Malyutin. It happened last summer in the village...
And a month after this conversation, a Cossack officer, ugly and plebeian in appearance, who had absolutely nothing to do with the circle to which Olya Meshcherskaya belonged, shot her on the station platform, among a large crowd of people who had just arrived with the train. And the incredible confession of Olya Meshcherskaya, which stunned the boss, was completely confirmed: the officer told the judicial investigator that Meshcherskaya had lured him, was close to him, swore to be his wife, and at the station, on the day of the murder, seeing him off to Novocherkassk, she suddenly told him that she and never thought to love him, that all this talk about marriage was just her mockery of him, and gave him to read that page of the diary that spoke about Malyutin.
I ran through these lines and right there, on the platform where she was walking, waiting for me to finish reading, I shot at her, - said the officer. - This diary, here it is, look what was written in it on the tenth of July last year.
The following was written in the diary: “It is now the second hour of the night. I fell asleep soundly, but immediately woke up ... Today I became a woman! Dad, mom and Tolya, everyone left for the city, I was left alone. I was so happy that I was alone In the morning I walked in the garden, in the field, was in the forest, it seemed to me that I was alone in the whole world, and I thought as well as ever in my life. there was a feeling that I would live without end and be as happy as anyone.
Then I fell asleep in my father's office, and at four o'clock Katya woke me up and said that Alexei Mikhailovich had arrived. I was very happy with him, it was so pleasant for me to receive him and occupy him. He arrived on a pair of his vyatki, very beautiful, and they stood at the porch all the time, he stayed because it was raining, and he wanted it to dry out by evening. He regretted that he did not find dad, was very animated and behaved like a gentleman with me, he joked a lot that he had been in love with me for a long time.
When we were walking in the garden before tea, the weather was lovely again, the sun shone through the whole wet garden, although it became quite cold, and he led me by the arm and said that he was Faust with Marguerite. He is fifty-six years old, but he is still very handsome and always well dressed - the only thing I did not like was that he arrived in a lionfish - he smells of English cologne, and his eyes are very young, black, and his beard is elegantly divided into two long parts and completely silver.
We were sitting at tea on the glass veranda, I felt as if I was unwell and lay down on the couch, and he smoked, then moved to me, began again to say some courtesies, then to examine and kiss my hand. I covered my face with a silk handkerchief, and he kissed me several times on the lips through the handkerchief ... I don’t understand how this could happen, I went crazy, I never thought that I was like that! Now there is only one way out for me ... I feel such disgust for him that I can not survive this! .. "
During these April days, the city became clean, dry, its stones turned white, and it is easy and pleasant to walk on them. Every Sunday after mass, a little woman in mourning, wearing black kid gloves, and carrying an ebony umbrella, walks down Cathedral Street, which leads out of the city. She crosses along the highway a dirty square, where there are many smoky forges and fresh field air blows; farther, between the monastery and the prison, the cloudy slope of the sky turns white and the spring field turns gray, and then, when you make your way among the puddles under the wall of the monastery and turn to the left, you will see, as it were, a large low garden, surrounded by a white fence, over the gate of which the Assumption of the Mother of God is written.
The little woman makes a small cross and habitually walks along the main avenue. Having reached the bench opposite the oak cross, she sits in the wind and in the spring cold for an hour or two, until her feet in light boots and her hand in a narrow husky are completely cold. listening spring birds singing sweetly even in the cold, listening to the sound of the wind in a porcelain wreath, she sometimes thinks that she would give half her life if only this dead wreath was not in front of her eyes. This wreath, this mound, this oak cross! Is it possible that under him is the one whose eyes shine so immortally from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross, and how to combine with this pure look that terrible thing that is now connected with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya? But in the depths of her soul, the little woman is happy, like all people devoted to some passionate dream.
This woman is a classy lady Olya Meshcherskaya, a middle-aged girl who has long been living in some kind of fiction that replaces her real life. At first, her brother, a poor and unremarkable ensign, was such an invention - she united her whole soul with him, with his future, which for some reason seemed brilliant to her. When he was killed near Mukden, she convinced herself that she was an ideological worker.
The death of Olya Meshcherskaya captivated her with a new dream. Now Olya Meshcherskaya is the subject of her relentless thoughts and feelings. She goes to her grave every holiday, does not take her eyes off the oak cross for hours, recalls the pale face of Olya Meshcherskaya in the coffin, among the flowers - and what she once overheard: once, at a big break, walking in the gymnasium garden, Olya Meshcherskaya quickly, she quickly said to her beloved friend, plump, tall Subbotina:
In one of my father's books - he has a lot of old funny books - I read what beauty a woman should have ... - God, it’s written: boiling with resin! - Black as night, eyelashes, gently playing blush, thin waist, longer than an ordinary arm, - you know, longer than usual! - A small leg, moderately large breasts, correctly rounded calf, knees of color shells, sloping shoulders - I learned a lot almost by heart, so all this is true! But more importantly, you know what? - Easy breath! But I have it, - you listen to how I sigh, - is it true, is it?
Now that light breath has dissipated again in the world, in that cloudy sky, in that cold spring wind.
