Pumping - the heroine of the story A. P.Chekhov "Pumpgun" (1892), Olga Ivanovna Smymova, the wife of Osipa Dymova. Real prototypes: S. P. Bvoshinikova, a hostess of the literary and artistic salon known in Moscow, the artist Ryabovsky - I. Levitan. Literature prototypes are more difficult to detect - so specifically and at the same time unpatched heroine. Researchers, as a rule, compare it with another Chekhov heroine - shower, noting the similarity of the names and the difference of nature. Portrait of P. - Almost cartoon, almost parody. But behind this "almost", as in the "dullness", - drama.

In the image of P. writer, it continues to the artistic study of a special, fairly motley and diverse to them presented female type, on one pole of which created in frankly parody "ladies": Natalia Mikhailovna from the story "Long Language", which herself "reported", entertaining My husband stories about the Crimean rest ("Even during ... In the most pathetic places, I told him:" But still you should not forget that you are only Tatar, and I am the wife of the State Counselor! "), Or the wife of the Stat adviser!"), Or the wife of the Stat adviser! ") Anniversary". On another pole - a series of viciously attaching, inevitably attractive, piercing-feminine heroines: Ariadne ("Ariadne"), Nyuta ("Volodya"), Olga Ivanovna ("Doctor"), Susanna ("Tina").

In these images, the topic of women's "inaccuracy", incomprehensible and hostile male and courageous nature, which causes almost physical disgust, is viewed, the signs of which are already found in the early humorous story "My Wives: Letter to the editor of Raul Blue Beard". This female type is difficult to determine, but among its indispensable properties - the elusive under-lowness, light, without any particularly need of falsehood, the predatory ability to taper to himself with a complex feeling that combines love and hatred. Such a heroine never loves anyone. P. close to this "breed".

According to L. N. Tolstoy, and after the death of a husband, who mourns so bitterly in the final with the words: "Moose!", She will behave the same way. But P. - the creature is deeply unhappy. With explicit superficiality, selfishness, it is deprived of korestoloby, there is no shallow calculation in it. P. - How much can - sincerely loves her husband, Chimov's doctor. But in its system of values, such a person is kind, conscientious, honest, engaged in boring, ordinary labor, is hopelessly losing in the bright world of artists and writers. P., herself is not deprived of artistic abilities, in love with the atmosphere of this world, it is not only friendly with his immigrants, but also a little musitis, writes paints, playing on stage.

In the sad moments, it flashes about the lack of authenticity of his nature. Returning after the "Fall" (travel along the Volga with Ryabovsky), it is experiencing one of those minutes, experiencing shame and pain. And after the death of her husband, infected from the patient with diphtherite, she crys not because "not on TE", not because "she was clear", but because with a new, aggravated pain feels his worthlessness and - limb. Lite: Chudakov A.P. Poetics and prototypes // In the creative laboratory Chekhov. M., 1974. P. 182-193; Golovacheva A. G. from "Pumpgun" to "Dressing" // Chekhov readings in Yalta.

M., 1983. P. 20-27.

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Frame from the film S.Samsonova "Pumpguard" (1955): Sergey Bondarchuk - Dr. Osip Stepanovich Smokov, Lyudmila Celikovskaya - Olga Ivanovna Smoke

The canonical model of the Russian intellectual is considered to be Osipa Smymova, the hero of the story of Chekhov "Pumping". It matches this sample as much as possible - smart, talented, modest, indulgent to the disadvantages of loved ones. Yes, and the sacrificial - saving a boy from Difisterita, infected himself, although he understood perfectly than it was fraught. Meanwhile, Smymova had a prototype, which had done a similar operation in real life - and, unfortunately, with the same outcome.

Prototypes - Material Sybakaya. Rarely, when the author joyfully reports to everyone, who he had written off his heroes. Usually, the author, knowing the passion for irony and all sorts of generalizations, does not even want the prototype to relate about his role. In particular, the Artist Ryabovsky, written off Chekhov from his friend Isaac Levitan, is trying in every way to do not like the prototype. In any case, in detail.

Isaac Ilyich Levitan, self-portrait (1880).

Anton Pavlovich is trying to understand with all their might forces to understand that the levitan prototype Ryabovsky is not at all. If Levitan landscape player, then Ryabovsky is made animal and bead. Levitan Radical Brunette - Ryabovsky Blue-eyed. Levitan 32 years old - Ryabovsky 25. But - the trick does not succeed: Levitan is recognized and Osmayan by society. Czechs are trying to justify themselves, indicates a certain typical situation ("The main evidence is the external similarity: the lady writes paints, her husband has a doctor, and she lives with the artist"). The case, nevertheless, ends with a scandal, as a result of which former friends stop communicating for years.

Plot

Recall, however, the plot. In Moscow, a young family lives in one of the alleys. He is a beginner, but feeding the doctor. She is the same "abrupt", the pretty, energetic and exalted lady, which pulls to the "beautiful" - to the world of Bohemia. The heroine practically does not notice his spouse, preferring the society of artists, actors, writers. She herself participates in the country performances herself, then takes the lessons of painting, then it climbs something else, the same exquisite and not related to the landedy world, in which her husband lives.

Autograph of the story of A.P.chekhova "Pumpgunya" (1892). Photos from Wikipedia.org website

With a teacher of painting her novel. They even go along with the etudes together, where the lady, completely unexpectedly for her, annoyed the windy artist (the very Levitan - Ryabovsky). This fact acts on the lady cutting - it decides to completely change your life, parting with God and become an exemplary spouse. But the train, which is called, gone. During the time, "Etudes" in the vicinity of the city of Plesa, Pumpguni finally attached to the handsale of the artist. And now this undivided feeling prevents both. Yes, and Dr. Smoky too. He finally begins to guess what is happening.

Final tragic and heroic at the same time. Osip smoke makes a true civil feat - risking life, sucks difteritic films from the boy, infected, gets sickly by the heavy form of diphtherite and dies.

His friend Dr. Korostelev, always quiet and meek, finally breaks away: "This is, if we all compare us with him, there was a great, extraordinary person! What diving! What hopes he filed to us everything! .. Lord God, it would be such a scientist, what now you will not find with fire. Syc smoke, Syc smoke that you have done! Ay-ah, my God! .. kind, clean, loving soul - not a man, and glass! Served science and died of science. And he worked, like an ox, day and night, no one gently gem, and a young scientist, the future professor, had to look for a practice for himself and on the night to make translations to pay for these ... Silly rags! .. And he did not gem himself, And he did not spare. Uh, what, in essence! "

Jumpingly regretted only about one thing - which looked at, missed, Dymova "did". Not on that put. After all, she did not even realize that her smoke, simple, boring, homemade smoke - in their field there is a much more significant amount than all its actors and lovers. It was only necessary to wait a little bit, and she would be a wovel celebrity wife.

Reality

Let us come out, however, from a non-hard and deceptive atmosphere of artistic fictions to life realities. Osipa Dymova's prototype, a well-known Moscow doctor, the reinforcement of the Moscow Military Hospital, founder of the Foundation for the establishment of the Pirogov Prize and the editor of the chronicles of Surgical Society Illarion Ivanovich Dubrovo lived in the house 17 on the Prechistenka. The building was then considered historical - before it belonged to the legendary poet partisan Denis Davydov.

Moscow, ul. Prechistenka, house 17. Modern view of the estate of Denis Davydova

It should be said here that the prototype of Smymova Illarion Ivanovich could not be considered at all because he had a relation to the famous love triangle (here the heroes of lyrical history. Inquisitive contemporaries were calculated quickly - they were appointed police officer Dmitry Pavlovich Kuvutynikov and his wife, Sophia Petrovna - Lover of Arts, The owner of the cabin, the artist itself; one of her works even acquired Pavel Tretyakov), and because he made a medical act who could not remember the young doctor Chekhov.

Sofya Petrovna and Dmitry Pavlovich Kuvutynikov, photos of start 20 century. From Wikipedia.org.

Unlike Dymova, Dubrovo was not at all a new man who gives hope - it's about a recognized luminary of medicine. Yes, and the impressions of two doctors were produced - if the invented looked like a classic, almost a parody Russian intellectual (and otherwise it could not, because the "abrupt", by and large, the story about the relationship between the Russian intelligentsia and Russian bohemia), then his real colleague , Mortar, Member of the Russian-Turkish War of 1877 - 1878 and the person in all respects was everywhere, differed, rather, not to meekness and shyness, but a decisiveness and britality. But, in spite of this, Muscovites knew him as Dr., Thoughtful and Polish.

Portrait of Sofia Petrovna by a moody brush. Levitan (1888). Image from the site wikipedia.org

Brother Illarion Ivanovich recalled his childhood: "Very handsome, living and not by the years, a smart and developed boy, he was the only joy, pride and hope of a mother ... Father, a small provincial official, chose the same luck for him, but the mother did not share the views Father on a drunk official happiness, built on the misfortune of nearby. "

Rod Dubrovo - which, however, is applied from the last name - it has Malorossiy roots. The doctor was born in 1843 in the village of Bold Romnensky County of Poltava province. The choice of profession, of course, influenced the family tragedy. Three of his little brothers died in childhood from diphtherite. This, no doubt, subsequently affected the decision to conduct a risky operation.

The gymnasium graduated from Cryeshev, the University (Natural Faculty) in St. Petersburg, then there was the St. Petersburg Medical and Surgical Academy. Education is more than solid. In 1870, Mr. Dubrovo received the title of Lekary. Then - internship in France, the Russian-Turkish front (moreover, it is the front, advanced), where he was a military surgeon, at the end of the war - brilliant protection of the doctoral dissertation, 9 scientific articles, the Order of St. Vladimir.

That is, in the spring evening of 1883, when the crystal neighbors asked Ivanion Ivanovich to inspect the dying girl, they did not appeal to the novice eskulapu, which was the Osip of the smoke, but to a person who represented and imagined for Russia, we will call things about their names, considerable value. But at the decision of the doctor, this fact did not affect and influence could not.

As a result, on May 29, 1883, "Moscow Vedomosti" reported: "On May 27, the doctor of medicine Illarion Ivanovich Dubrovo died at 2 o'clock in the morning, having taken a victim of selflessness; On May 20, at night, the deceased was invited to the daughter of the Shuisian leader of the nobility of Kouroedov, a 17-year-old girl, for the operation of tracheotomy, on the occasion of diphtherite. Completely graduating from the operation, he sucks diphtheria films from the tube from the tube, infected himself and died, tangling only 6 days. Loss incurred in his face for science and mankind, Nemenyagadim. We are convinced that those who knew the deceased will be treated with a big spurry to the premature death of an honest worker and a truly humane man. "

The death of the doctor became a sensation. Lion Tolstoy wrote: "Today I came the thought of pictures with inscriptions. I have two. One doctor, sucked poison diphtheria and deceased. Another teacher in Tula, pulling children from his institution and died in a fire. "

Chekhov, of course, could not but know about this case - not only the whole Moscow spoke about him, so Anton Pavlovich - precisely at that time, from 1879 to 1884 - he studied medicine at one course with the hero's brother, Vasily Dubrovo ( Subsequently, called his own son in honor of the deceased uncle Illarion). And, for sure, Chekhov a lot about this story heard what was called from unofficial sources. And here Anton Pavlovich, in no way connected by the ethical framework, happened, pronounced in the most minor trifles. Up to consistency, the names of the best friends of two doctors - Dymova was Korostelev, and Dubrovo - Kosyrev.

Apparently, the editorial staff thought that this would bring the merit of the doctor - they say, there is no profit without, let the posthumous, but still triumph.

Although in fact, everything is exactly the opposite - if the doctor knew that the chances of recovery were small (and he in principle could not know it), and still went to risk, then it raises the meaning of his feat to completely cosmic heights.

The story "Pumpgun" was written by Chekhov in 1892. main character - Olga Ivanovna marries the Osip of Stepanovich Smymova. At the wedding itself, Olga Ivanovna behaves a little strange: it seems to be justified for her choice of her husband in front of the guests. The fact is that it comes out to marry (as it seems) a man of gray, nothing noticeable. Osip Stepanych was a doctor and also had a chin titular adviser. He led a calm, measured life. While all the friends of the heroine were not quite ordinary people: celebrities and giving high hopes in creativity. Olga Ivanovna was constantly rotating in the circles of creative people. Moreover, some celebrities were replaced by others, it cost someone to glorify at least a little, so that only they began to talk about how Olga Ivanovna was here as here: immediately found a reason to meet, immediately invited himself to visit. Olga Ivanovna itself was engaged in all: sang, accompanied, read poems, wrote etudes. Her famous acquaintances celebrated creative abilities, told her that if she did something seriously, did not be lazy, then it would be a lot about it.

Osip Stepanovich was engaged in medicine and natural sciences all his life, he was not interested in art. Husband has not reread in anything, on Wednesdays, there were no parties on which he served the guests of his wife. Guests looking at him, thought: "Nice small!"And immediately forgot about him, so he was uninteresting for them. But such a lifestyle arranged both spouses and their family life at first was happy.

On a trip to the Volga, Olga Ivanovna had a novel with a young artist Ryabovsky. But soon the artist cooled to her. A woman herself begged him about love. The husband soon began to guess his wife's treasure, but he did not blame her word. Soon all his familiar Olga Ivanovna spoke about the smoke: - This man will oppress me with his generosity!

Once Osip Stepanovich became very sick. Near the patient around the clock on duty, replacing each other, doctors. Dymova's friend - Korostylev was constantly with him, only the wife, afraid to get infected, did not go to the room. Already before the death of Osipa Stepanovich, realizing that the friend dies, Korostylev in despair tells how really smoke was that he filed high hopes in science, was a gifted scientist, an excellent doctor and kind, clean man. And Olga Ivanovna remembered how her deceased father treated him and all his comrades - doctors, I realized that they all saw a future celebrity in it, and she was her hair!

It would seem that Mount, experienced by heroine, should have convinced her in how she was not right when she divided people on the famous and not famous. But in fact, she mourned not the loss of a loving and faithful husband, but a future celebrity not seen. "Missed! Besked! "- The best indicator that her grief is not genuine that it still appreciates their external position in people and their celebrity.

A. P. Chekhov in their work, helping the reader better to present what is happening, uses the following artistic methods: comparisons and eloquent epithets. For example, about Ryabovsky - "Life is similar to the life of birds", and about the dying chimney - "Silent creature", and korosttylev "I looked at my friend's wife, as if she had a real villain". A special subtext is also hidden in the title "Pumpguard". The Word itself already indicates inability to focus on something one and on the ease of the heroine. In addition, the word "jogging", each educated person resembles the fables I. A. Krylova "Dragonfly and ant", in which idleness and windiness is directly condemned.

"Pumping" is one of the works of A. P. Chekhov, in which he continues explore female soul and unpredictable female character. His heroine, Olga Ivanovna, selfish, lying, gender. But at the same time, it is not korestiving, sometimes there are times when she is experiencing because of his treason. It is superficial, does not know how to allocate important from the secondary than and causes pity and towards himself and in relation to the people around it. After all, she appreciates people not for their human qualities, but only for their achievements. The writer does not make any direct conclusions and conclusions at the end of the story, it provides the opportunity to reader think about read and draw conclusions to everyone for himself.

• Analysis of the story of A.P. Chekhov "Ionch"

The history of the creation of the story "Pumpkin" refers to 1891. The story caused the scandal in Moscow because of which Chekhov almost quarreled with the artist Levitan - one of his best friends.

In the eighties of Chekhov, he was friends in Moscow with Sofia Petrovna Kuvshtinikova. It was a lady no longer the first youth, about forty years, an artist-dilettank, whose work was led by Levitan. Her husband was a police doctor. Once a week, artists, writers, doctors, artists gathered for the parties of the Kuvshchiknikov. Often came Chekhov and Levitan. According to the general revocation, Sophia Petrovna was an interesting woman in an interesting and outstanding, although not distinguished beauty. She had something that was collected in her circle of outstanding people, but it seems, the desire for originality in it was larger than genuine, genuine originality.

Chekhov decided to reflect the image of the Kuvutynikova in his story. The love of the heroine to the artist Ryabovsky is the love of Kuvshtinikova to Levitan. Nevigabilities or Chekhov's mistake in the plot of "Pumps" are undoubted: taking the artist-dilettak in the heroine, as a friend of at home, he took the artist, and another landscapeist. But he made a big mistake, giving a doctor's heroine in her husband. Put, the husband of Kuvshtshinikova was not an outstanding doctor, the future of the science, as the Husband "Pumps", but an ordinary police doctor, still in general, it increased the similarity of the Peargun family with his family. After the publication, Chekhov was not allowed more to go to the house to Kuvshtinikov.

Thus, the artistic discoveries of Chekhov had a huge impact on literature and theater 20 century. His dramatic works translated into many languages \u200b\u200bbecame an integral part of the world theatrical repertoire.
A.P. Chekhov believed that the principle of restrained, externally not detected by the author's narrative should be present in the works: the more objective, the stronger the impression. Chekhovsky principle of LAKONISM, compressed from confidence in reader activity, in the ability of the reader to capture the hidden and complex meaning of the work.
With this, an increased role is associated with details, at the first view of small, insignificant, but deeply non-random, psychologically and emotionally saturated details. In Chekhov, the detail is not only a hint of an important and characteristic, but also a carrier of the internal movement of the story, transferring the center of gravity to the inner plot, the story of the soul of the hero, the hidden dynamics of his struggle with the circumstances, the medium, philistine existence, Czechs refuses intense, intrigue , external enraged.

The tragic meaning of the work of Chekhov "Pumping" is precisely that nothing happens and does not change, everything remains in old. The plot of the story "Pumpguard" (1892) was built in such a way that nothing foreshadowed a tragic junction. Olga Ivanovna, the main heroine, married Dr. Smoke, is surrounded by talented people: this is the actor of the dramatic theater, the singer from the opera, the writer, a musician, a landowner, several artists, among which the young handsome Ryabovsky. Everyone is cared for her, teach your art, and Olga Ivanovna is passionate about them.

"Among this artistic, free and spoiled fate of the company, however, delicate and modest, smoke seemed to be a stranger, superfluous and small, although he was high and wide in his shoulders."

Having chasing all his life for celebrities and collecting them in her house, Olga Ivanovna did not see the wonderful talent of the dedicated soul of her husband. When he, infected with diphtherite from a sick child, dies and comrades doctors talk about him as a rare, wonderful person, Olga Ivanovna regrets that he "made a celebrity." Smoke is depicted by a soft, intelligent person who loving his wife. But, seeing around him, in his house this spiritually limited company, he cannot, by virtue of his concepts about culture, express discontent, does not resist, put up with the unceremoniousness of his wife. Even when it became clear that his wife would change him, he was not decided to explain, hoping that the terrible drama would be resolved by himself. At the time of these heavy experiences, smoke dies.

Popgunya

At the wedding, Olga Ivanovna had all her friends and good acquaintances.

Look at him: Is there something wrong in it? - She said to her friends, nodding for her husband and, as if wanting to explain why she came out for a simple, very ordinary and no wonderful man.

Her husband, Osip, Stepanych smoke, was a doctor and had a chin titular advisor.

He served in two hospitals: in one superhighted alternator, and in the other - the prosector. Every day, from 9 am to afternoon, he took the patients and was engaged in his ward, and after noon I went to the other hospital, where I opened the dead patients. Private practice it was negligible, five hundred rubles per year. That's all. What else can you say about him?

Meanwhile, Olga Ivanovna and her friends and good acquaintances were not quite ordinary people. Each of them was wonderful and a little known, had an already name and was considered a celebrity, or although he was not yet famous, but she applied brilliant hopes.

The artist from the dramatic theater, a long, long-recognized talent, an elegant, intelligent and modest person and excellent readers who told Olga Ivanovna read; The singer from the opera, good-natured fat man, with a sigh of Olga Ivanovna, that she ruins himself: if she had not been lazy and took himself in his hands, then a wonderful singer would come out of her; Then, a few artists and headed their genre, animal and landscape of Ryabovsky, a very beautiful blond young man, 25 years old, who had success at exhibitions and who sold his last picture for five hundred rubles; He corrected Olga Ivanovna her etudes and said that from her, perhaps, would be extended; then a cellist who has a tool cry and which was frankly realized that from all the familiar women knows how to accompany Olga Ivanovna; Then the writer, young, but already known, writing a story, plays and stories.

Who else? Well, another Vasily Vasilich, Barin, a landowner, an amateur-illustrator and a vignette, who felt old Russian style, epic and epos; On paper, on china and on finished plates, he made literally miracles. Among this artistic, free and spoiled fate of the company, however, a delicate and modest, but remembering the existence of some doctors only during the disease and for which the names of the smoke sounded as different as Sidorov or Tarasov, - among this company smoke seemed to someone , superfluous and small, although it was high and wide in the shoulders. It seemed that there was someone else's fracture on him and that he had an ordersuit beard. However, if he were a writer or an artist, they would say that he resembles an ash with his beard.

The artist spoke Olga Ivanovna, that with his linen hair and in a wedding dress, she is very similar to a slim cherry tree, when it is fairly covered with delicate white flowers.

- No, you listen! - He told him Olga Ivanovna, grabbing him by his hand. - How could this suddenly happen? You listen, listen ... you need to tell you that my father served with smoke in one hospital. When a poor father fell ill, then smoke on day and nights on his bed. So much self-sacrifice! Listen, Ryabovsky ... And you, writer, listen, it is very interesting. Come closer. How many self-sacrifice, sincere participation! I also did not sleep at night and sat near my father, and suddenly - hello, won well well done! My little smoke crashed into the ears. Right, fate is so coastal. Well, after the death of the father, he sometimes had been from me, I met on the street and one fine evening suddenly - Batz! Made a proposal ... as the snow on the head ... I looked around the whole night and my hellish fell in love myself. And here, as you can see, I became a spouse. Is it not true, is there something strong, mighty, bearish? Now his face is drawn to us in three quarters, poorly lit, but when he turns, you look at his forehead. Ryabovsky, what do you say about this forehead? Smoke, we talk about you! She shouted her husband. - Come here. To last your honest hand Ryabovsky ... like this. Be friends. Smoky, good-natured and naively smiling, stretched out the Ryabov's hand and said:

I am glad. With me, I also finished the course of someone Ryabovsky. Is this not a relative?

Olga Ivanovna was 22 years old, smoke 31. They heal after the wedding excellent. Olga Ivanovna in the living room hung all the walls with his own and strangers in the frames and without frames, and near the piano and furniture arranged a beautiful closeness from Chinese umbrellas, easels, multicolored rags, daggers, bustikov, photos ... In the dining room, she walked the walls in the luffed paintings, hung Lapti and sickles, put in the corner of a braid and rake, and turned out to be a dining room in Russian taste. In the bedroom, she, to seem to be on the cave, draped the ceiling and the walls with a dark cloth, hung over the beds a Venetian lantern, and at the door put a figure with alabard. And everyone found that young spouses have a very nice corner.

Every day, inserted from the bed of watches at eleven, Olga Ivanovna played the pianos or, if there was sun, wrote something with oil paints. Then, in the first hour, she drove to his dressmaker. Since she and the smoke of money was very few, in the edge, then to often appear in the new dresses and hit their outfits, she and her dressmaker had to be started at tricks. Very often from the old repainted dress, from anything worthwhile slices of Tulle, lace, plush and silk came out simply miracles, something charming, not a dress, but a dream. From the cartridges Olga Ivanovna usually rushed to some familiar actress to learn the theater news and by the way to face a ticket to the first idea of \u200b\u200bthe new play or to Benefis. From the actress it was necessary to go to the artist's workshop or at the picture exhibition, then to someone from celebrities - to invite to himself, or give a visit, or just chat. And everywhere they met fun and friendly and assured her that she was good, cute, rare ... those she called famous and great, took her, as their own, like a level, and propheted her in one voice that in her talents, taste And the mind, if it does not scatter, a great sense will come out.

She sang, playing the pianos, wrote paints, Lepila, participated in amateur performances, but all this is not somehow, but with talent; Did it make lanterns for the illumination, whether it crashed whether to whom the tie tie - everything went out unusually artistic, graceful and cute. But in no way her talentedness affected so brightly, as in its decrease to get acquainted and briefly converge with famous people. It was worth someone to glorify at least a little bit and make him talk about himself, as she got acquainted with him, on the same day he was friends and invited to himself. Every new acquaintance was for her a daytime holiday. She guarded the famous people, proud of them and saw them every night in a dream. She was eager for them and could not quench her thirst. The old left and forgotten, they came to replace them new, but she soon got used to or disappointed in them and began to greedily look for new and new great people, I found it again. For what?

In the fifth hour she lunch at home with her husband. His simplicity, common sense and good nature brought it into a lunizing and delight. She thus drove out, I looked away his head and shoved her kisses.

You, smoke, smart, noble man, "she said," but you have one very important flaw. You are not interested in art. You deny both music and painting.

I do not understand them, "he said Crotko. "I have been doing natural science and medicine all my life, and I had no time to be interested in the arts.

But it is terrible, smoke!

Why? Your friends do not know the natural sciences and medicine, but you do not put it in the reproach. Everyone has its own. I do not understand the landscapes and operas, but I think so: if some smart people dedicate them all their lives, and other clever people pay huge money for them, then they are needed. I do not understand, but not understand does not mean deny.

Give me, I will make your honest hand!

After dinner, Olga Ivanovna rushed to a friend, then to the theater or a concert and returned home after midnight. So every day.

According to Wednesday, she had parties. At these parties, the hostess and guests did not play cards and did not dance, but entertained themselves with different arts. The actor from the dramatic theater read, singer sang, artists painted in the albums, whom Olga Ivanovna had a lot, the cellist played, and the hostess herself also drawn, Lepila, sang and accompanied. In the intervals between reading, music and singing they spoke and argued about the literature, theater and painting. The ladies were not, because Olga Ivanovna, all the ladies, except for actresses and his dressmakers, considered boring and vulgar. None of the party did not do without a hostess to shudder with each call and did not speak with a victorious facial expression: "It's he!", Of course, under the word "he" any new invited celebrity. Dymova was not in the living room, and no one recalled his existence. But exactly in half the twelfth warped out the door leading to the dining room, shown smoke with his good-natured meek smile and spoke, rubbing his hands:

Everyone went to the dining room and every time you saw the same thing on the table: a dish with oysters, a piece of ham or veal, sardines, cheese, caviar, mushrooms, vodka and two decanters with wine.

My dear meter d'meter! - Olga Ivanovna spoke, splashing with his hands from delight. - You are just charming! Gentlemen, look at his forehead! Smoke, turn to the profile. Gentlemen, look: The face of the Bengal tiger, and the expression is kind and sweet, like a deer. U, cute!

Guests ate and, looking at Smoke, thought: "In fact, the glorious small one, but soon forgot about him and continued to talk about the theater, music and painting.

Young spouses were happy, and their lives flowed like oil. However, the third week of their honeymoon was not entirely happy, even sad. The smoke got infected in the hospital of Roggy, lay in bed for six days and had to crash her beautiful black hair. Olga Ivanovna sat near him and crotted bitterly, but when he was white, she put on his face with a white handkerchief and began to write Bedouin from him. And both were fun. Three days after he, recovered, began to go to hospitals again, a new misunderstanding happened to him.

I'm not lucky, mom! He said once at dinner. - Today I had four autopsies, and I immediately cut my fingers at once. And only at home I noticed it.

Olga Ivanovna was afraid. He smiled and said that these are nothing and what he often comes from at the time of opening to make yourself cuts in her arms.

I am fond of mom, and I get scattered.

Olga Ivanovna, anxiously awaited a body infection and prayed to God at night, but everything went well. And again flowed a peaceful happy life without sovereignty and anxiety. The present was fine, and in a change he was approaching Spring, already smiling from published and promising a thousand joys. Happiness will not end! In April, in May and in June, the cottage is far beyond the city, walks, etudes, fishing, nightingales, and then, from July to the most autumn, the ride of artists on the Volga, and on this trip, like an indispensable member Suck, will take part and Olga Ivanovna. She has already sewed two travel suit from the canvas, bought on the road of paints, brushes, canvas and a new palette. Almost every day Ryabovsky came to her to see what she did the success of painting. When she showed him her painting, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, firmly squeezed her lips, nozzles and said:

So-with ... This cloud shouts: it is not lit in the evening. The foreground is somehow Szhevan, and something, you understand, not that ... And you have a hut in you with something and complaints about ... I would need to take an angle. And in general, it is tenwise ... praise.

And what he said incomprehensible, the easier than Olga Ivanovna understood him.

On the second day, the Trinity after dinner smoke bought snacks and sweets and drove to his wife to the country. He had not seen her already for two weeks and missed himself. Sitting in the car and then looking for his cottage in a big grove, he always felt hunger and fatigue and dreamed about how he dares to sleep with his wife, then I will fall to sleep. And he was fun to look at his convolution, in which Ikra, Cheese and Belorybits were wrapped.

When he found his cottage and recognized her, the sun came. The old man-maid said that the lady was not at home and that should be coming soon. At the cottage, very unsightly on appearance, with low ceilings, painted with paper paper, and with uneven ghelistic floors, there were only three rooms. In one stood the bed, canst, brushes, felling paper and men's coats and hats were lying on the chairs and windows, and the third smoke found three of some unfamiliar men. Two were brunettes with beards, and the third is completely shaved and fat, apparently - the actor. On the table boiled Samovar.

What you want? - asked the actor bass, indiscriminately looking around Smymov. - Do you need Olga Ivanovna? Wait, she will come now.

Smoke villages and began to wait. One of the brunettes, sleepily and sluggishly glancing at him, poured myself tea and asked:

Maybe you want some tea?

Smoke wanted to drink and eat, but not to spoil his appetite, he refused tea. Soon the steps and familiar laughter were heard; The door slammed, and Olga Ivanovna ran into the room in a wide-headed hat and with a drawer in his hand, and after he was with a large umbrella and a cheerful, rhinestic rowan was entered with a folding chair.

Smoke! Olga Ivanovna screamed and broke out from joy. - Smoke! - She repeated, putting his head on his chest and both hands. - It's you! Why didn't you come for so long? From what? From what?

When me, mom? I am always busy, and when I am free, everything happens so that the train schedule does not suit.

But how glad I am glad to see you! You all dreamed of me all night, and I was afraid, no matter how you fell sick. Ah, if you knew how you were mil, how did you come! You will be my savior. You just can save me! Tomorrow there will be a preoriginal wedding here, "she continued, laughing and tie her husband tie. - The young telegraphist is married at the station, someone Chiceldeev. A handsome young man, well, non-flashy, and there is in the face, you know something strong, bearish ... You can write a young Varyag from him. We, all dachas, take part in it and gave him a honest word to be at the wedding ... A person is not good, lonely, timid, and, of course, it would be sinner to refuse him in participation. Imagine, after the launch of the wedding, then from the church all walking to the bride's apartment ... You see, grove, singing of birds, sunny spots on the grass and all of us multicolored spots on a bright green background - pre-vigorous, in the taste of French expressionists. But smoke, what am I going to church? - Olga Ivanovna said and made a crying face. - I have nothing here, literally nothing! Neither dresses, no colors, no gloves ... You must save me. If you arrived, then the fate itself tells you to save me. Take my dear, Keys, go home and take my pink dress there in the wardrobe. You remember him, it hangs first ... then in the storeroom on the right side on the floor you will see two cards. How to open up the top, so there are all tulle, tulle, tulle and different loskutka, and under them flowers. Flowers all take off carefully, try, kind, do not remember, then they will choose them ... and buy gloves.

Well, "said smoke. - I'll go tomorrow and send.

When tomorrow? - asked Olga Ivanovna and looked at him with surprise. - When will you have time to go tomorrow? Tomorrow I leave the first train at 9 o'clock, and wedding at 11. No, duchone, it is necessary today, it is necessary today! If tomorrow you can not come, then came with a calling. Well, go ... now the passenger train must come. Do not be late, duskey.

Oh, how I feel sorry to let you go, "Olga Ivanovna said, and the tears felt in her eyes. - And why am I, fool, gave the word to the telegraphist?

The smoke quickly drank a glass of tea, took the ram and, smiling, smiling, went to the station. A caviar, cheese and whites ate two brunettes and a thick actor.

Olga Ivanovna stood on the quiet lunar July night night on the deck of the Volga steamer and looked at the water, then on the beautiful shores. Near her stood Ryabovsky and told her that the black shadow on the water was not a shadow, but a dream, that in mind this witchcraft water with a fantastic gloss, in view of the bottomless sky and sad, thoughtful shores, talking about the bustling of our life and the existence of what "It's the highest, eternal, blissful, good to forget, die, become a memories. The past went and is not interesting, the future is negligible, and this wonderful, the only night in life will end soon, will merge with eternity - why live?

And Olga Ivanovna listened to the voice of Ryabovsky, then to the silence of the night and thought that she was immortal and would never die. The turquoise color of water, which she had never seen before, sky, shores, black shadows and the immediate joy that filled her soul, they told her that the great artist would come out of her and that somewhere there for a distance, behind the lunar night, in an infinite space Waiting for her success, glory, the love of the people ... When she, not blinking, watched in the distance for a long time, her crowds of people, lights, solemn sounds of music, shouts of delight, she herself in a white dress and flowers that poured on her from all sides. She also thought that there was a real great man, genius, God's chosen ... All that he created so far, is beautiful, new and unusually, and what will create it with time when With matureness, his rare talent will grow, it will be amazing, immeasurably high, and it can be seen on his face, in a manner to be expressed and in its attitude towards nature. About the shadows, evening tones, about the lunar glitter, he speaks somehow especially his tongue, so that the charm of his power is involuntarily felt. He himself is very beautiful, originally, and his life, independent, free, alien to all everyday, is similar to the life of the bird.

It becomes fresh, "Olga Ivanovna said and shuddered.

Ryabovsky wip it into his cloak and said sadly:

I feel in your power. I'm a slave. Why are you so charming today?

He looked at her all the time, not taking off, and his eyes were terrible, and she was afraid to look at him.

I love you insanely ... - he whispered, breathing her cheek. "Tell me one word, and I will not live, I'll throw an art ..." he mumbled in a strong excitement. - Love me, love ...

Do not say that, - said Olga Ivanovna, closing his eyes. - This is scary. And smoke?

What are smoke? Why smoke? What do I care about Smoke? Volga, Moon, beauty, my love, my delight, and there is no smoke ... Ah, I don't know anything ... I don't need a past, I give one moment ... one moment!

Olga Ivanovna had a heart beat. She wanted to think about her husband, but all her past with a wedding, with smoke and with parties seemed to her little, insignificant, dim, unnecessary and distant-distant ... In fact: what smoke? Why smoke? What is her deal to Smoke? Does he exist in nature and isn't it a dream only?

"For him, a simple and ordinary person, the happiness that he has already received, she thought, closing her face with his hands. - Let them condemn there, Curse, and here I will take everyone to take everyone and perished, I'll take it and perished ... We must experience everything in life. God, how terribly and how good! "

Well? What? - mumbled an artist, hugging her and greedily kissing his hands, which she had little tried to remove him from herself. - Do you love me? Yes? Yes? Oh, what night! Wonderful night!

Yes, what night! She whispered, looking into his eyes, brilliant from tears, then quickly looked around, hugged him and kissed him tightly on his lips.

Come to Kineshma! - Someone said on the other side of the deck.

Heavy steps heard. It passed by a man from a buffet.

Listen, "Olga Ivanovna told him, laughing and crying from happiness," bring us wines.

The artist, pale from excitement, sat down on the bench, looked at Olga Ivanovna adorbing, grateful eyes, then closed his eyes and said, Tomno smiling:

I'm tired.

And leaning his head to board.

On the second day, the day was warm and quiet, but cloudy. Early in the morning there was a light fog in the Volga, and after nine hours began to rain. And there was no hope that the sky will become clearer. Ryabovsky spoke Olga Ivanovna, that painting is the most ungrateful and the most boring art that he is not an artist that alone fools think that he has a talent, and suddenly, with no one with this, grabbed the knife and scratched them Your best etude. After tea, he, gloomy, sat by the window and looked at the Volga. And the Volga was already without shine, dim, matte, cold look. Everything, everything reminded the approachment of a dreary, chmury of autumn. And it seemed that luxurious green carpets on the shores, diamond reflections of the rays, the transparent blue distance and all the schocholsk and the front nature now took off the Volga and put in the chests to the future spring, and the crows flew around the Volga and teased her: "Naked! Naked! " Ryabovsky listened to their carcass and thought that he was already exhausted and lost the talent that everything in this light was conditionally, relatively and stupid and that it would not be necessary to associate himself with this woman ... In short, he was not in the spirit and Handrill.

Olga Ivanovna sat behind the partition on the bed and, sorting his beautiful linen hair with his fingers, imagined himself in the living room, in the bedroom, then in her husband's office; The imagination carried it into the theater, to the dressmaker and to the famous friends. Something is smaller now? Do you remember about it? The season has already begun, and it is time to think about parties. And smoke? Cute smoke! As the Crotko and Childish, he asks her in his letters to ride home! Every month he sent her 75 rubles to her, and when she wrote to him that he was owned by artists a hundred rubles, he sent her one hundred. What good, generous man! Journey tired Olga Ivanovna, she missed her, and she wanted to get away from these men, from the smell of river dampness and reset this feeling of physical impurity, which she experienced all the time, living in the peasant sails and nomada from the village in the village. If Ryabovsky did not give an honest word to artists that he would live with them here until September 20, then you could leave today. And how well it was!

My God, - Ryabovsky groaned, - when will the sun finally be? I can not continue the sunny landscape without the sun! ..

And you have an etude with the cloud sky, "said Olga Ivanovna, leaving for the partition. - Remember, on the right plan of the forest, and on the left - a flock of cows and geese. Now you could finish it.

Oh! - artist frowned. - Cum! Do you really think that I myself am so stupid that I don't know what I need to do!

How did you change me! - Sigger Olga Ivanovna.

Very well.

Olga Ivanovna trembled her face, she moved to the stove and cried.

Yes, lacking only tears. Stop! I have thousands of reasons to cry, but I do not cry.

Thousands of reasons! - Olga Ivanovna sobbed. - The most important reason you're already pleasing to me. Yes! - she said and buried. - If you tell the truth, you are ashamed of our love. You all try to make artists not to notice, although it is impossible to hide it, and everything is already known to them.

Olga, I ask you about one, "the artist said imploringly and putting his hand to heart," about one thing: do not torment me! I don't need anything more from you!

But swear that you still love me! - This is painful! - the artist jumped through his teeth and jumped. - It will end in that I will quit in the Volga or go crazy! Leave me!

Well, kill, kill me! - shouted Olga Ivanovna. - Kill!

She came down again and went for the partition. On the straw roof of the hut rained rain. Ryabovsky grabbed himself behind his head and walked out of the corner into the corner, then with a decisive face, as if waiting for something to prove someone, put on a cap, he threw a rifle over his shoulder and came out of the hut.

For his care, Olga Ivanovna was lying on the bed and cried for a long time. At first she thought that it would be good to choose to come back Ryabovsky caught her dead, then she carved her thoughts into the living room, to her husband's office and imagined, as she sits motionless next to smoke and enjoy the physical peace and purity and as in the evening sits in Theater and listens to Mazini. And the longing of civilization, in city noise and the famous people grated her heart. Baba entered the hut and began to slow down the oven to prepare lunch. Facing Gar, and the air cried from smoke. Artists came in high dirty boots and with wet raindrops, considered etudes and spoke themselves in consolation that the Volga even had her charm in bad weather. And the cheap clock on the wall: Tick-tick-tick ... Cropped flies crowded in the front corner near the images and buzzing, and hear the strokes under the shops in thick folders ...

Ryabovsky returned home when the sun came. He threw a cap on the table and, pale, tortured, in dirty boots, sank to the bench and closed his eyes.

I'm tired ... - he said and walked around her eyebrows, rummaged to raise the eyelids.

To stick to him and show that she is not angry, Olga Ivanovna approached him, silently kissed and spent a comb on his blond hair. She wanted to combing him.

What? - He asked, shuddering, accurately touched something cold to him, and opened his eyes. - What? Leave me alone, I ask you.

He pulled her hands and moved her hands, and it seemed to her that his face was expressed disgust and annoyance. At this time, Baba carefully carried him in both hands a plate of sacifics, and Olga Ivanovna saw her thumbs in her thumbs. And a dirty woman with a pulled belly, and soup, which became greedily eating Ryabovsky, and the hut, and the whole of this life, which she first loved for simplicity and artistic confusion, seemed terrible now. She suddenly felt offended and said it cold:

We need to part for a while, and then from boredom we can seriously quarrel. I am tired of this. Today I will leave.

On what? On riding riding?

Today, Thursday, it means that a steamer will come in half the tenth.

BUT? Yes, yes ... Well, go, go ... - said softly Ryabovsky, rubbed instead of a napkin with a towel. "You are boring here and nothing to do, and you have to be a big egoist to keep you." Go, and after the twenty will see you.

Olga Ivanovna stacked fun, and even her cheeks broke out from pleasure. Is it really true, "she asked himself, - that soon she will write in the living room, and sleep in the bedroom and dining with a tablecloth? She was gone from the heart, and she was no longer angry with the artist.

Paints and brushes I will leave you, Ryabush, she said. - What will remain, bring ... Look, without me, there is no / p / string, not Handry, but work. You have a young man, Ryabush.

At nine o'clock Ryabovsky, for a farewell, kissed her for how she thought not to kiss on a steamer in artists, and spent on the marina. A steamer came soon and took it.

She came home in two and a half days. Without removing hats and Waterprofrop, it's hard to breathe from excitement, she went into the living room, and from there in the dining room. Smokes without a cross, in the unbutton vest sitting at the table and sharpened a knife about the plug; In front of him on a plate lay a talker. When Olga Ivanovna entered the apartment, she was convinced that it was necessary to hide everything from her husband and that she had enough to decline and forces, but now, when she saw a wide, meek, happy stupid meter-d'meter! - Olga Ivanovna spoke, splashing with his hands from delight. - You are just charming! Gentlemen, look at his forehead! Smoke, turn to the profile. Gentlemen, look: The face of the Bengal tiger, and the expression is kind and sweet, like a deer. Y, cute! Okku and brilliant joyful eyes, she felt that he was too impossible to hide from this man, disgusting and just as impossible and not under her, how to slander, steal or kill, and she decided to tell him everything in an instant what happened. Giving him to kiss himself and hug, she sank to his knees and closed her face.

What? What mom? He asked gently. - missed?

She raised her face, red from shame, and looked at him to blame and imploringly, but fear and shame prevented her to tell her the truth.

Nothing ... She said. - It's me so ...

Sit down, "he said, raising her and sitting at the table. - That's the way ... Kushai Rybikchik. You got hungry, poor thing.

She greedily inhaded his native air and eaten a row, and he looked at her and happily laughed.

Apparently, from the middle of winter, the smoke began to guess that he was deceived. He, as if he had a conscience of a unclean, could not watch his wife straight in his eyes, did not smile happily when meeting her and to stay with her alone, often led to himself to dinner his comrade Korostelev, a small face of a man with a marked face , which, when I spoke with Olga Ivanovna, then from embarrassment unbuttoned all the buttons of his jacket and again fastened and then began to pinch my left mustache. Behind the dinner, both doctors said that with a high standing of the diaphragm sometimes there are interruptions of the heart, or that multiple neuritis are observed very often, or yesterday smoke, start the corpse with the diagnosis of malignant anemia, found pancreatic cancer. And it seemed that both of them led a medical conversation only to give Olga Ivanovna the opportunity to be silent, i.e. not to lie. After lunch, Korostelev sat down for the piano, and smoke sighed and told him:

Eh, brother! Well, what! Play something sad.

Having lifted my shoulders and spread my fingers wide, Korostelev took a few chords and began to sing the tenor "Singing me such a monastery, wherever the Russian man did not moan," and smoke once again sighed, supported his head with a fist and thought.

Recently, Olga Ivanovna behaved extremely carelessly. Every morning she woke up in the very bad mood and with the thought that she no longer loves Ryabovsky and that, thank God, everything was already over. But, drunk coffee, she realized that Ryabovsky took her husband with her and that now she was left without her husband and without Ryabovsky; Then she recalled the conversations of their friends about the fact that Ryabovsky prepares something amazing to the exhibition, a mixture of a landscape with a genre, in the taste of Polenov, why everyone who happens in his workshop come delight; But this, she thought, he created under her influence and in general, thanks to her influence, he had changed a lot for the better. Its influence is so beneficial and essential that if she leaves him, he probably may perish. And she also recalled that for the last time he came to her in some sulfur shutter with sparks and in the new tie and asked Tomno: "I am beautiful?" And in fact, he, elegant, with his long curls and with blue eyes, was very beautiful (or, perhaps, it seemed like) and was affectionate with her.

Remembering about a lot and realizer, Olga Ivanovna was dressed and in strong excitement drove into the workshop to Ryabovsky. She forced him a cheerful and admiring his own, in fact, a magnificent picture; He jumped, focused on and serious questions answered jokes. Olga Ivanovna was jealous of Ryabovsky to the picture and hated her, but from politeness idle in front of the picture silently five minutes and, having sighing, as sigh in front of the shrine, said quietly:

Yes, you never wrote anything like more. You know, even scary.

Then she began to begging him so that he would love her, did not throw it to regret her, poor and unhappy. She cried, kissed him his hands, demanded that he swear to her in love, argued him that he would betray without her good influence and perished. And, by spoiling him a good mood of the Spirit and feeling humiliated, she left for a dresswork or a familiar actress so much about a ticket.

If she did not find it in the workshop, he left him a letter in which he swore, that if he did not come to her today, she would certainly poison. He was a cluster, came to her and remained dinner. Not embarrassed by the presence of a husband, he told her audacity, she answered him the same. Both felt that they would connect each other that they were despothots and enemies, and were angry, and they did not notice from anger that both were indecent and that even the Strip Korostelev understands everything. After dinner, Ryabovsky hurried to say goodbye and leave.

Where you go? - asked him Olga Ivanovna in the front, looking at him with hatred.

He, firing and pike his eyes, called some lady, a common acquaintance, and it was clear that he was laughing at her jealousy and wants to annoy her. She went to her bedroom and went to bed; From jealousy, annoyance, the feelings of humiliation and shame she bit the pillow and began to cry out loud. Smoke left Korostelev in the living room, went to the bedroom and, confused, confused, said quietly:

- Do not cry loudly, mom ... Why? We must be silent about it ... We must not serve the kind ... You know what happened, I will not correct it.

Not knowing how to doubt the hard jealousy, from which even in temples lomged, and thinking that you can still correct the case, she washed, Puddilled the face and flew to a familiar lady. With her Ryabovsky, she drove to another, then to the third ... At first she was ashamed to ride so much, but then she was accustomed, and it happened that in one evening she was part of all familiar women to find Ryabovsky, and everyone understood it.

Once she told Ryabovsky about her husband:

I liked this phrase so much that, meeting with artists who knew about her novel with Ryabovsky, she spoke about her husband every time, making an energetic hand gesture:

This man will oppress me with his generosity!

The order of life was the same as last year. On Wednesdays were parties. Artist read, artists painted, the cellist played, singer sang, and consistently in half the twelfth opened the door leading to the dining room, and smiling, said:

Sick gentlemen, to eat.

As before, Olga Ivanovna was looking for great people, found and did not satisfy and was looking for again. She still returned every day late at night, but smoke was no longer asleep, as last year, and sitting in her office and worked something. He lay at three hours, and got up at eight.

Once in the evening, when she, gathering in the theater, stood before the ship, smoke in Thrake and in a white tie. He smiled meekly and, as before, happily watched his wife straight in the eye. His face shone.

I was preserved the dissertation now, "he said, sitting down and stroking his knee.

Defended? - asked Olga Ivanovna.

Wow! - He laughed and pulled the neck to see his wife's face in the mirror, which continued to stand back to him and straighten her hair. - Wow! - he repeated. - You know, it is very possible that I will be offered a private accommodation for general pathology. This smells.

It was seen in his blissful, shining face that if Olga Ivanovna divided his joy and celebration with him, he would have forgiven everything, and the present and the future, and everything would have forgotten, but she did not understand what the Privat-Domottle means and General pathology, besides, afraid to be late in the theater and said nothing.

He sat down for two minutes, smiled guiltily and came out.

It was a restless day.

Smymova had a bad headache; He did not drink tea in the morning, did not go to the hospital and lay all the time in his office in the Turkish sofa. Olga Ivanovna, as usual, in the first hour I went to Ryabovsky to show him my sketch of Nature Morte and ask him why he did not come yesterday. Etude seemed insignificant to her, and she wrote him only to have an extra pretext to go to the artist.

She entered him without a call, and when I was shot in the front of Kalosh, she heard, as if in a workshop, something quietly ran, in a female rustling dress, and when she hurried to look into the workshop, he saw only a piece of brown skirt, which flashed For a moment and disappeared for the big picture, curtained with the easel to the floor with black knee. It was impossible to doubt, this was hiding a woman. How often Olga Ivanovna itself found shelter for this picture! Ryabovsky, apparently, very embarrassed, as it were surprised by her arrival, handed over her hands and said, smiling stretched:

A-A-A-A! I am very glad to see you. What do you say pretty?

Olga Ivanovna's eyes were filled with tears. She was ashamed, bitterly, and she would not agree to speak in the presence of an outsider, rival, Lguni, which was now in the picture and probably giggled.

I brought you an etude ... "she said timidly, a subtle voice, and her lips trembled," Nature Morte.

Ah ... etude?

The artist picked up an etude and, considering it, as if mechanically passed into another room.

Olga Ivanovna submissively walked behind him.

Nature Morte ... First grade, - he mumbled, picking up rhyme, - resort ... damn ... Port ...

From the workshop heard hurried steps and buds of the dresses. It means she is Gone. Olga Ivanovna wanted to shout loudly, hit the artist on the head with something heavy and leave, but she did not see anything through tears, was suppressed by his shame and felt like Olga Ivanovna and not an artist, but a little goat.

I'm tired ... - Tomno said the artist, looking at the etude and shaking his head to overcome the dormant. "It's cute, of course, but today Etude, and last year Etude, and in a month there will be an etude ... How will you not bother you?" I would have thrown painting in your place and took up seriously music or something. After all, you are not an artist, but the musician. However, you know how I'm tired! I'll tell you now, so that they give tea ... eh?

He came out of the room, and Olga Ivanovna heard him ordered his lacquer. So as not to say goodbye, not to be explained, but the main thing is not to burrow, she, until Ryabovsky returned, soon ran into the front, put on Kalosh and went out into the street. Here she easily sighed and felt himself forever free and from Ryabovsky, and from painting, and from a hard shame that was so pressed her in the workshop. Everything is over!

She went to the dressmaker, then to Barna, who just came yesterday, from the bar - to a music store, and all the time she thought about how she would write a ripper cold, tough, full of their own dignity of the letter and how spring or in the summer she will go with smoke In the Crimea, it will be liberated there finally from the past and will begin a new life.

Returning home late in the evening, she, not disguised, sat down in the living room to write a letter. Ryabovsky told her that she was not an artist, and she would write him back to him now that he wrote all the same thing every year and every day he says the same thing that he froze and that he would not come out of him, besides What has already happened. She also wanted to write it that he owes it to good influence, and if he did badly, this is just because its influence is paralyzed by various ambiguous individuals, like the one that today hidden for the picture.

Mum! - called from the cabinet smoke, not leading the doors. - Mum!

What do you want?

Mom, you do not go to me, but just come to the door. "That's what ... Third-time I infected in a diphtherite hospital, and now ... I'm not good." They went as soon as Korostelev.

Olga Ivanovna has always called her husband, like all familiar men, not named, but by last name; His name Osip did not like her, because he resembled Gogol Osip and Kalambourg: "Osip Okrip, and the archite Osip". Now she screamed:

Osip, it can not be!

Fuck! I'm not good ... - said outside the door of the smoke, and it was heard, as he approached the sofa and lay down. - Let's go! - His voice heard deeply.

"What is it? - I thought Olga Ivanovna, the cold from horror. - After all, it is dangerous! "

Without any need, she took a candle and went to her bedroom, and then, thinking that she had to do, inadvertently glanced at himself. With a pale, frightened face, in a jacket with high sleeves, with yellow swans on the chest and with an extraordinary direction of the stripes on the skirt, it seemed to themselves scary and ugly. She suddenly became sorry for the pain of Smoke, his limitless love for her, his young life, and even this orphaned bed, on which he had not slept for a long time, and his ordinary, meek, humble smile was remembered. She cried bitterly and wrote a korostelev pleasing letter. There were two nights.

When, in the eighth o'clock in the morning, Olga Ivanovna, with severe insomnia head, unclean, ugly and with a guilty expression, came out of the bedroom, passed by her in the front of some kind of Mr. with a black beard, apparently, the doctor. Plowed medicine. Near the door in the office stood Korostelev and the right hand twisted the left mustache.

Sorry, I'm sorry, I will not go out, "he said to Olga Ivanovna sullenly. - You can get infected. Yes, and nothing to you, in essence. He is still in delusion.

Does he have real diphtherita? - asked Olga Ivanovna with whisper.

Those who are climbing on the Rogon, it is necessary to give the court, - muttered Korostelev, without answering the question of Olga Ivanovna. - Do you know why he got infected? On Tuesday, the boy sucks difteritic films through the tube. What about? Stupid ... so, sfura ...

Dangerous? Highly? - asked Olga Ivanovna.

Yes, they say that the form is heavy. It would be necessary to send as shrek, in essence.

It came a little, redhead, with a long nose and with a Jewish accent, then tall, sutured, shaggy, similar to the protodian, then young, very complete, with a red face and in glasses. These doctors came to duty near his comrade. Korostelev, dedicating his time, did not leave home, but remained and, like a shadow, wandered throughout the rooms. The maid squeezed the tea on duty doctors and often ran to the pharmacy, and there was no one to remove the rooms. It was quiet and sad.

Olga Ivanovna was sitting in his bedroom and thought that this was God's god punish her for the fact that she was deceiving her husband. A silent, bad, incomprehensible being, an impersonal with his meekness, washingally, the weak of unnecessary kindness, deafness suffered somewhere in his sofa and did not complain. And if it had complained, at least in nonsense, then the doctors duty would know that not only diphtherite was to blame. They asked Korostelev: He knows everything and no wonder his friend's wife looks like her eyes, as if she was the most important, real villain, and the diphtherite only her accomplice. She no longer remembered the lunar evening on the Volga, nor explanations in love, nor poetic life in the hut, and remembered only that she was from empty whim, from the balobiness, all, with his hands and with her legs, smeared into something dirty, sticky , from which you never do not sleep ...

"Oh, as I am scared and lied! - she thought, remembering the restless love, what she had with Ryabovsky. - Be it all cursed! .. "

At four o'clock she dined with Korostelev. He did not eat anything, drank only red wine and frowned. She either did not eat anything either. It was mentally prayed and gave the vow to God that if the smoke recovers, she would love him again and will be faithful to his wife. That, forgetting for a minute, she looked at Korostelev and thought: "Isn't it boring to be simple, nothing is a wonderful, unknown person, and even with such a rumpled face and with bad manners?" It seemed to her that her a minute would kill her for the fact that she was afraid to get infected, never yet in her husband's office. In general, there was a stupid sad feeling and confidence that life was already spoiled and that I could not fix it with anything ...

After lunch, dottech came. When Olga Ivanovna reached the living room, Korostelev slept on the couch, laying under the head a silk pillow, spitting gold. "Khi-Poua ... - He snapped, - Khi-Poua."

And the doctors who came to duty and left, did not notice this disorder. The fact that someone else's man slept in the living room and snores, and etudes on the walls, and the fancy situation, and the fact that the hostess was not harsh and rudely dressed - all this did not excite the slightest interest. One of the doctors was inadvertently laughing, and somehow strange and timidly sounded this laughter, even terribly met.

When Olga Ivanovna, another time, went into the living room, Korostelev no longer slept, and sat and smoked.

He has the diphtheria of the nasal cavity, "he said in a low voice. - Already the heart does not work. In essence, bad things.

And you send for Shrek, "Olga Ivanovna said.

Was already. He noticed that diphtherite moved to the nose. E, what shrek! In essence, nothing shrek. He shrek, I am Korostelev - and nothing else.

Time stretched terribly long. Olga Ivanovna lay a dressed in an unlucky bed and dreame. She was sanging that the whole apartment from the floor to the ceiling is busy with a huge piece of iron and that it is only worth out of iron, as everyone becomes fun and easy. After waking up, she remembered that it was not iron, but Dymova's disease.

"Nature Morte, Port ... - She thought, again falling into oblivion, - Sport ... Resort ... And how Shrek? Shrek, Greek, built ... Crek. And somewhere now my friends? Do they know that we have grief? Lord, save ... get rid. Shrek, Greek ... "

And again iron ... Time has been stretching long, and the clock in the lower floor beat often. And that and the case were heard calls; Doctors came ... Maid entered with an empty glass on a tray and asked:

Baryn, bed order to post?

And without receiving an answer, came out. They punched down at the bottom of the clock, got raining on the Volga, and again someone entered the bedroom, it seems that strangers. Olga Ivanovna jumped up and recognized Korostelev.

What time is it now? She asked.

About three.

What! I came to say: ends ...

He sobbed, sat down on the bed next to her and wiped the tears with a sleeve. She did not immediately understand, but everything was frowning and began to be slowly baptized.

Ends ... - He repeated with a thin voice and sobbed again. - Dies, because I sacrificed myself ... What a loss for science! He said with bitterness. - This is, if we all compare us with him, was a great, extraordinary person! What diving! What hopes he filed to us all! - continued Korostelev, breaking his hands. "My God God, it would be such a scholar, which now you will not find a fire." Syc smoke, Syc smoke that you have done! Ay-ah, my God!

Korostelev in despair closed her face with both hands and shook his head.

And what moral force! - He continued, more and more angry with someone. - kind, clean, loving soul - not a man, and glass! Served science and died of science. And he worked, like an ox, day and night, no one gently gem, and a young scientist, the future professor, had to look for a practice and at night to engage in translations to pay here for these ... a seal rags!

Korostelev gladly looked at Olga Ivanovna hatred, grabbed her sheet with both hands and the angry rushed, as if she was to blame.

And he did not gem himself, and he did not spare. E, yes, in essence!

Yes, a rare person! Said someone bass in the living room.

Olga Ivanovna remembered his whole life with him, from beginning to end, with all the details, and suddenly realized that it was in fact an extraordinary, rare and, in comparison with those whom she knew, a great man. And remembering how her deceased father and all comrades believed to him, she realized that they were all seen a future celebrity. Walls, ceiling, lamp and carpet on the floor shouted her mockingly, as if wishing to say: "I did not care! Peszala !» She fell out of the bedroom with crying, sleeved in the living room past some unfamiliar man and ran into the office to her husband. He lay motionless on a Turkish sofa covered to a blouse. His face was terribly laughed, she lost weight and had a grayish yellow color, which never happens in living; And only on the forehead, on black eyebrows, yes, on a familiar smile, it was possible to know that these were smoke. Olga Ivanovna quickly felt his breasts, forehead and hands. The chest was still warm, but the forehead and hands were unpleasantly cold. And half-open eyes looked at Olga Ivanovna, but on the blanket.

Smoke! - she called loudly. - Smoke!

She wanted to explain to him that there was a mistake that was not still lost that life could still be beautiful and happy that he was rare, extraordinary, great man and that she would be a long time to adequate in front of him, pray and experience a sacred fear ...

Smoke! "She called him, thrill him by his shoulder and not believing that he would never wake up. - Smoke, smoke!

And in the living room Korostelev spoke Maid:

What is it like asking? You go to the church entrance and ask where the weak people live. They wake up the body and remove - everything will make what you need.

Heroes of the story A.P. Chekhov "Pumping"

Re-read again

Nadezhda Nikolaev

We publish two independent research on a very close topic. It is interesting to compare those faces that she turns from different philologists.

Heroes of the story A.P. Chekhov "Pumping"

In the story of "Pumping", the heroes can be divided into two groups. One is Olga Ivanovna, "her friends and good acquaintances." Other smoke, Korostelev and their colleagues doctors. These two societies are simultaneously similar and not similar. They are similar in their efforts to fame and success. Olga Ivanovna dreams of achieving this in the field of art: "Reflective joy that filled her soul, told her that the great artist will come out of her and that somewhere there for a distance, behind the lunar night, in infinite space expect her success, fame, the love of the people ... "The same joy fills the smoke when he talks about his scientific future:" Wow! - he repeated. - You know, it is very possible that I will be offered a private accommodation for general pathology. This smells. "

Both main characters are similar and in how they are ignorant and fully given to their work. Smoke forgets about the whole other, except for work when it makes openings: "I am fond of my mother, and I get scattered." Olga Ivanovna is absorbed by acquaintance with celebrities: "She guarded the famous people, proud of them and saw them every night in a dream. She was eager for them and could not quench her thirst. "

Korostelev also appreciates their unusual people in people: "What a loss for science! He said with bitterness. - This, if we all compare us with him, was a great, extraordinary person! "

And at the same time, two societies are opposed to each other in their respectiveness. Doctors in the perception of the world rely on the mind. Smokes are very logical in their judgments and actions. He does not feel the art, for his mind it does not exist, but he judges about it according to the examples of other people: "If some smart people dedicate them (landscapes and operations - N.N.) All my life, and other smart people pay huge money for them, then they are needed. " Or smoke does not drink tea because I planned to eat with my wife and does not want to spoil yourself appetite. Even in moments of strong mental experience, smoke never ceases to think: "After lunch, Korostelev sat down for the piano, and smoke sighed and spoke to him:" Eh, brother! Well, what! Play something sad. " Having raised my shoulders and spread my fingers wide, Korostelev took several chords and began to sing tenor "We show me such a monastery, wherever the Russian man does not moan ...", and smoke once again sighed, pierced his head with a fist and wondered”.

Olga Ivanovna with "friends and good acquaintances" perceive the world emotionally, without the shade of thought. Thus, the artist from the environment of Olga Ivanovna to a quiet lunar night reacts as follows: "Ryabovsky told her that black shadows on the water are not a shadow, and sleep, that in mind this witchcraft water with a fantastic gloss, in mind the bottomless sky and sad, thoughtful The shores talking about the bustling of our life and the existence of something of the highest, eternal, blissful to forget to forget, die, become a memoir. " Olga Ivanovna herself, telling her husband's wedding, says not about the real event, but about his perception and interpretation: "Imagine, after a wedding dinner, then from the church all on foot to the apartment of the bride ... you understand, grove, bird singing, sunny spots On the grass and we all multicolored spots on a bright green background - pre-native, in the taste of French expressionists. "

Smoke and his colleagues live in a real causal world. Olga Ivanovna and her company are twisted in the clouds and largely live illusions. Despite the fact that these two groups of people live according to one scheme and strive for similar purposes, communication and mutual understanding between them does not occur.

Olga Ivanovna could become a binder between societies. As often in the stories of Chekhov, a young (sometimes elder), a woman is breaking the veil of misunderstanding with his sympathy or love ("On Love", "Flowers are late", "Student", "House with mezzanine", "Dressing" and others). But Olga Ivanovna does not like her husband. She plays love, family. So about the attitude towards the smoke, his chosen, she speaks in the spirit of the novels, and not real human psychology: "Well, after the death of the father, he sometimes had been from me, I met on the street and one fine evening suddenly - Batz! "Made a proposal ... like snow on the head ... I looked around all night and fell in love with hellish." The bowl of the newlyweds apartments resembles theatrical scenery in which you can play the role of my wife: "Olga Ivanovna hung all the walls with his own and strangers in the frames and without frames, and about the piano and furniture arranged beautifully closeness from Chinese umbrellas, easels, multicolored rags, Daggers, bustikov, photos ... In the dining room, she saved the walls by the walls by the luffed paintings, Lapti hung and sickles, put a braid and rake in the corner, and turned out to be a dining room in the Russian taste ... "Olga Ivanovna talks with her husband, and somehow unhearsal: "Let me please your honest hand!", "You will be my Savior. You only can save me! " In fact, be on the site of Smoke "Sidorov or Tarasov", nothing would have changed. Summing up the attitude of Olga Ivanovna to her husband, I want to give her sensations: "What are the smoke? Why smoke? What is her deal to Smoke? Does he exist in nature and isn't it a dream only? " So the heroine perceives the living husband.

Consciousness Olga Ivanovna is subordinate to imagination and emotions. Illusory for it is more realistic. "All that he (Ryabovsky) has created so far, fine, new and unusually, and what he will create with time when his rare talent will grow with matureness, it will be amazing, immeasurably high, and it can be seen by his face, The manner is to be expressed and in its respective nature. " (But not at all on his paintings.) Olga Ivanovna thinks with images and emotional categories: "She was sanging that the whole apartment from the floor to the ceiling is busy with a huge piece of iron and that it is worth only to endure the iron, as everyone becomes fun and easily. Waking up, she remembered that it was not iron, but Dymova's disease. "

In the same way, through emotional perception, Olga Ivanovna acquires her husband. Her imagination gradually gives it to everyone inherent to man. The first stage of incarnation is an act of names: "His name Osip did not like her, because he resembled Gogol Osip and Kalambourg:" Osip Okharip, and the Osip archite. " Now she screamed: "Osip, this can not be!" "The second stage of the alignment of smoke - endowing his" flesh and blood ":" silent, badness, incomprehensible creature, dismantled with her mildness, is a non-clear, weak from unnecessary kindness, deafness suffered where "It's not complained about my sofa." The third stage is the birth of Smoke as a full person in Consciousness Olga Ivanovna: she "quickly felt his chest, forehead and hands. The chest was still warm, but the forehead and hands were unpleasantly cold. And half-open eyes looked at Olga Ivanovna, but on the blanket.

Smoke! - she called loudly. - Smoke!

She wanted to explain to him that it was a mistake that was not still lost that life could still be beautiful and happy that he was rare, extraordinary, great man and that she would be awe all his life in front of him, pray and experience a sacred fear .. .

Smoke! "She called him, thrill him by his shoulder and not believing that he would never warn. - Smoke, smoke! "

But even at that moment Olga Ivanovna does not begin to love her husband in human. It only becomes obvious its rarity and potential celebrity. And she annoys over his inattention. That's all. "And remembering how her deceased father treated him and all comrades doctors, she realized that they were all seen a future celebrity in it. Walls, ceiling, lamp, and the carpet on the floor shouted her mockingly, as if wishing to say: "I did not care! Hang! ""

With the death of Smymov, the hopes of uniting two groups of heroes separated by an invisible, but a strong watery of misunderstanding.