Light breath Read online - Ivan Bunin. Ivan Bunin: Light Breath

Tanka became cold, and she woke up.

After freeing the hand from the sponge, in which she embarrassedly wrapped around at night, Tanka stretched out, took a deep breath and squeezed again. But still it was cold. She rushed under the "head" of the furnace and pressed the Vaska to her. He opened his eyes and looked so light, as healthy children look from sleep. Then turned on the side and quiet. Tanka also began to rip off. But the door knocked in the hollow: Mother, Rusha, dragged out of the Senets of straw

Cold, aunt? - asked the wanderer, lying on the conic.

No, "Marya replied, - fog. And the dogs are lying, - just to blizzards.

She was looking for matches and thundered by grasp. Wanderer lowered his legs from the conic, yawned and shoved. In the windows, a bluish creened Cold Light of the morning, under the bench Skeid and riddled by a woken chrome spleen. The calf rose to the weak spread legs, convulsively pulled out the tail and so stupid and broke off, that the wanderer laughed and said:

Sword! Cow driven?

Sold.

And no horses?

Sold.

Tanka revealed his eyes.

Horse sale especially crashed into her memory "when they dug out the kartokhi, in a dry, windy day, mother on the field heard, cried and said that she didn't go to her throat, and Tanka looked at her throat, not understanding about what is fat.

Then the "Anchirists" came in a high strong cart with a high front, they were similar to each other - black, shed, ridicated in the Koradans. For them came another one, more than Bernother, with a stick in his hand, I shouted loudly, I shouted a little bit, I brought a horse from the court and ran with her for the pasture, my father ran to him, and Tanka thought he had jogged to take a horse, caught up and again hung it into the courtyard. Mother stood on the verge of hut and said. Looking at her, it was roaring in all the throat and Vaska. Then the "black" again brought the horse from the courtyard, tied her to the cart and drove drove under the mountain ... And the father was no longer sore ...

"Anchirists", horses-mothers, and the truth, fierce on appearance, especially the last - Taldykin. He came later, and before him, the first first only the price was shot down. They were trying tortured by the horse, they drew her face, beat sticks.

Well, one shouted, "see here, get money with God!

Not mine they are whiskers, you do not have to take half, "the roots answered evasively.

Yes, what is it half a half, if, for example, the kobylenika more than us with you? Pray to God!

What is in vain to interpret, - absently objected the roots.

It was here that Taldykin came, a healthy, thick trainer with a pug physiognomy: brilliant, evil black eyes, a nose shape, cheekbones, - everything reminded this dog's breed in it.

What kind of noise, but there are no fights? - He said, entering and smiling, unless you can call the smile to inflate the nostrils.

He approached the horse, stopped and was even indifferent for a long time, looking at her. Then turned, carelessly told his comrades: "Sorehouse, time, I'm on the pasture," and went to the goal.

The roots irrevocably called:

What did the horse looked!

Taldikin stopped.

It is not worth a long look, "he said.

Yes, you look, we bite ...

Taldikin approached and made lazy eyes.

He suddenly hit the horse under the belly, pulled her behind the tail, felt under the blades, sniffed his hand and moved away.

Bad? - Trying to joke, asked the roots.

Taldykin chuckled:

Long-length

The horse is not old.

Tek. So the first head on the shoulders?

The roots were embarrassed.

Taldikin quickly stuck his fist into the corner of the horse's lips, looked like a glimpse of her in his teeth and, wiping his hand on the floor, mockingly and patter asked:

So not old? Your grandfather did not go to get married on her? .. Well, let us come down, get eleven yellow.

And, without waiting for the reply of the root, took out money and took the horse for sneaking.

Pray to God and put the Polbutilochki.

What are you, what are you? - offended roots - you are without a cross, uncle!

What? - exclaimed Taldykin Grozno, - Obaled? Do you wish money? Take, while the fool comes across, take, tell you!

Yes, what is this money?

Such which you do not have.

No, it's better not.

Well, after some of the seven you will give, you will be happy to give, - Believe conscience.

The roots departed, took the ax and with a business species began to take a pillow under the cart.

Then they tried the horse on the pasture ... And no matter how I chitril the roots, no matter how restrained, did not disgust!

When October came and in the outside of the cold, the air was blocked, whipped white flakes, entered the pasture, Lazina and Zavallenka huts, Tanka every day had to be surprised at the mother.

Happened with the beginning of winter for all the children began true torments that arose, on the one hand, from the desire to flush out of the hut, run on the belt in the snow through the meadow and, riding her legs on the first blue of the pond, beat them with sticks and listen as He is a hulkaet, and on the other hand - from the terrible sickers of the mother.

Where are you going? Chicher, cold - and she, Nosia! With boys on the pond! Now I climb on the oven, and then look at me, the demonmeno!

It happened, with sadness I had to be content with the fact that a cup with smoking crumbly potatoes was stretched on the furnace and a chunk of a smelling curtain, cool salted bread. Now the mother did not give a bread at all in the morning, no potatoes, they answered about this:

Go, I'm dealing with you, go on the pond, baby!

Last winter Tanka and even Vaska went to bed late and could calmly enjoy the seat on the "group" of the stove at least until midnight. In the hollow stood on a roof, thick air; On the table there was a light bulb without glass, and soot with dark, trembling phytyl reached to the ceiling itself. Near the table was sat father and sewed a fur coat; Mother cleaned his shirt or knitting mittens; She's oblique face was at that time, she silently sang "old" songs, which heard in the greatness, and Tanka often wanted to cry from them. In the dark hut, the wounded snow blizzards, I was remembered by her youth, I remembered hot hay and evening zori, when she was in the maiden crowd the wilderness of the road with a ringing songs, and the sun was lowered behind the rzhami and the gold dust looked through the grinding. She told her daughter that she would have the same dawns, everything would be going on so soon and for a long time, the rustic grief and care would be replaced for a long time.

When the mother was collecting dinner, Tanka in one long shirt was reddown from the furnace and, often sorting out with bare feet, fled to the konics, to the table. Here she, as a whirlproof, squatted and quickly caught in a thick chowder Salz and bored with cucumbers and potatoes. Thick Vaska eating slowly and shook his eyes, trying to stick a big spoon in his mouth ... After dinner, she with a tight belly also quickly moved to the oven, fought because of the scene with Vaska and, when one frosty night torch watched in dark rubs, fell asleep Under the prayer whisper of the mother: "The children of God, the saint of Micoma, a merciful, pillar-cooling of people, Mother of the Most Holy Friday - the pray of God for us! Holt in the heads, huts in the legs, huts from the evil" ...

Now the mother started to sleep early, said that there was nothing to dinner, and threatened the "eyes to whipped", "blind in the bag", if she, tank, will not sleep. Tanka was often roared and asked for a "even cabbage", and a calm, mocking Vaska lay, Dral legs up and scolded Mother:

Here is the house, - he said seriously, - all sleep and sleep! Give Bati away!

The bai left with Kazan, was only at home, he said that everywhere "trouble," - the serpents are not sewn, they remember more, - and he only revenge in some places in some rich men. True, the villages ate at that time, and even the "such a piece" of Salted Sudak Katya brought in a rag. "In Kstina, he said, was the third day, so you guys hid ..." But when the Bath left, almost there are almost no longer ...

Easy breath

On the cemetery, over fresh clay embankment is a new cross from oak, strong, heavy, smooth.

April, gray days; Monuments of the cemetery, spacious, county, are still far away through bare trees, and the cold wind rises and rings a porcelain wreath at the foot of the cross.

In the very same cross, the cross is pretty large, a convex porcelain medallion, and in the medallion - a photographic portrait of a gymnasium with joyful, strikingly alive eyes.

This is Olya Meshcherskaya.

The girl she did not stand out in the crowd of brown gymnasic dresses: what could be said about her, except that she was from the number of pretty, rich and happy girls, that she is capable, but playful and very careless to those instructions that she makes her cool lady ? Then she began to flourish, not developing by day, but by the hour. At fourteen years, she, with a thin waist and slender legs, have already been well described and all those forms whose charm has never expressed the human word; In fifteen she was already heard by beauty. How carefully combed some of her friends, as was chopped, as they watched their restrained movements! And she was not afraid of anything - neither ink spots on the fingers, neither the painted face, no disheveled hair, nor the knee-driving on the knee. Without her worries and effort and somehow imperceptibly came to her all that it was so distinguished by her in the past two years from the entire gymnasium, - grace, elegacity, dexterity, clear eye glitter ... Nobody danced so on the bala like Olya Meshcherskaya Nobody ran so on the skates, as she, at whom they did not care for the balls, as much as he was behind her, and for some reason no one had loved so younger classes as her. She became unnoticed by her girl, and her gymnasic glory was imperceptibly strengthened, and she had already taken any senses that she was windy, he could not live without fans that the Shenshin gymnasist was inseractlessly in love with her, as if she would love him, but so a change in handling him that he attempted suicide.

Olya Meshcherskaya, the last winter, was completely crazy from fun, as they said in the gymnasium. Winter was snowy, sunny, frosty, early Sun designed the sun for the high spruce of a snowy gymnasium garden, invariably, the radiant, promising and tomorrow frost and sun, walking on the cathedral street, skating rink in the city garden, pink evening, music and this in all sides The crowd sliding on the rink, in which Olya Meshcherskaya seemed the most carefree, the most happy. And once, on a big change, when she was swirl on the national team from the first-graders he driving and blissfully called her, it was unexpectedly called to the boss. She stopped with a scatter, he made only one deep breath, quickly and already familiar female movement recovered her hair, jerked the corners of the apron to the shoulders and, shining her eyes, ran upstairs. The boss, two-way, but gray, calmly sat with knitting in his hands at the desk, under the royal portrait.

Hello, Mademoiselle Meshcherskaya, "she said in French, without raising her eyes from knitting. - I, unfortunately, is no longer forced to call you here to talk with you about your behavior.

I listen, Madame, "answered Meshcherskaya, coming to the table, looking at her clearly and alive, but without any expression on his face, and sat so easily and gracefully as soon as she knew that one.

You will listen to me badly, I, unfortunately, I was convinced of this, "said the boss and, pulling a thread and wrapped on the lacquered floor, the Meshcherskaya looked with curiosity, raised his eyes. "I will not repeat, I will not speak extensively," she said.

Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually pure and large office, so well breathable in frosty days with warm shiny Dutch and the freshness of the valley in the writing desk. She looked at the young king, to the full growth of the written among some brilliant hall, on a smooth sample in dairy, neatly corrugated hair, the boss and expectantly silent.

You are no longer a girl, - the boss said meaningfully, secretly starting annoying.

Yes, Madame, - Simply, Meshcherskaya answered almost fun.

But not a woman, - the boss said even more significant, and her matte face was slightly excited. - First of all, - what is this hairstyle? This is a female hairstyle!

I'm not guilty, Madame, that I have good hair, "Meshcherskaya replied and slightly touched both hands his beautifully cleaned head.

Oh, that's how you are not to blame! - said the boss. - You are not guilty in the hairstyle, not to blame for these expensive ridges, is not to blame that we ruin our parents on twenty rubles! But, I repeat to you, you absolutely overlook that you are only a gymnasics ...

And then Meshcherskaya, without losing simplicity and calm, suddenly politely interrupted her:

Sorry, Madame, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And to blame for this - you know who? Friend and neighbor Pope, and your brother Alexey Mikhailovich Malyutin. It happened last summer in the village ...

And a month later, after this conversation, the Cossack officer, an ugly and plebeian species, who had nothing to do with that circle to which Olya Meshcherskaya was shot on the platform of the station, among the big crowd of the people, just arriving with the train. And the incredible, who stunned the boss, the recognition of Oli Meshcherskaya was completely confirmed: the officer stated his judicial investigator that the Meshcheck was set up, he was close to him, swore to be his wife, and at the station, on the day of the murder, speaking him in Novocherkassk, suddenly told him that she And I didn't think to love him that all these conversations about marriage were one of her mockery over him, and let him read the diary page, where it was said about Malyutin.

I ran these lines and immediately, on the platform, where she walked, waiting until I finish reading, fired into her, "said the officer. - This diary, so he, take a look, which was written in it in the tenth of July last year. The following was written in the diary: "Now the second hour of the night. I fastened hard, but immediately woke up ... now I became a woman! Dad, Mom and Tolya, everyone went to the city, I was alone. I was so happy that alone! I walked in the garden in the morning, in the field, was in the forest, it seemed to me that I was alone around the world, and I thought so good, more than ever in my life. I lunch alone, then a whole hour played, I had such a feeling for the music that I would live without end and I would be so happy as no one. Then he fell asleep from dad in the office, and at four o'clock I woke me up, said Alexey Mikhailovich. I was very happy with him, I was so nice to take it and take it. He arrived at the pair of his Vyatok, very beautiful, and they all the time stood at the porch, he was left, because it was raining, and he wanted to dry in the evening. He regretted that he did not find dad, was very animated and kept himself with a cavalier, he joked a lot that he had long been in love with me. When we walked before tea in the garden, there was again charming weather, the sun glistened through the whole wet garden, although it became very cold, and he led me at hand and said that he was Faust with Margarita. He is fifty-six years old, but he is still very beautiful and always dressed - I didn't like it only that he came to the Corycle, - it smells in English cologne, and the eyes are very young, black, and the beard is elegantly divided into two long pieces and completely silver. For tea, we sat on a glass veranda, I felt like unhealthy and lay on the ottoo, and he smoked, then I moved to me, began to say any kind of courtesy again, then consider and kiss my hand. I closed my face with a silk handkerchief, and he kissed me several times on his lips through a handkerchief ... I do not understand how it could happen, I went crazy, I never thought I was like this! Now I am one way out ... I feel such a disgust for him that I can not survive it! .. "

The city for these April days was clean, dry, the stones were coars, and it's easy and pleasant to go. Every Sunday, after the dinner, on the Cathedral Street, leading to the departure from the city, a little woman is sent in Touréra, in black like gloves, with an umbrella of ebony. It goes along the highway dirty area, where many worsted forges and freshly blowing field air; Further, between the male monastery and the Ostrog, whites the cloud slope of the sky and he seine the spring field, and then, when we grow up among the puddle under the wall of the monastery and turn to the left, you will see a big low garden, disconnected by a white fence, over the gates of which is written by the mother's audience. The little woman is finely baptized and is familiar to the main alley. Having reached the bench against the oak cross, she sits in the wind and on the spring cold hour, two, until her feet in light shoes and hand in a narrow skin. Listening to spring birds, sweetly singing and in the cold, listening to the winds of the wind in a porcelain wreath, she sometimes thinks that he would give half every cells, just before her eyes of this dead wreath. This wreath, this hill, Oak Cross! Is it possible that under him, whose eyes are so immortally shine from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross, and how to combine with this clean look, is the terrible, what is connected now with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya? - But in the depths of the soul, the little woman is happy, like all the people devoted to some passionate dream.

This woman is the cool lady of Olya Meshcherskaya, an unclear girl who has long been living any fiction that replaces the actual life. At first, her brother was, the poor and not a wonderful ensign worker, - she joined his soul with him, with his future, which for some reason she appeared brilliant her. When he was killed under Mukden, she convinced himself that she was ideological worker. The death of Olya Meshchersk was captured by her new dream. Now Olya Meshcherskaya is the subject of its relentless dooms and feelings. She goes to her grave every holiday, by the clock does not descend the eyes from the oak cross, remembers the pale lyrum Oli Meshcherskaya in the coffin, among the colors - and the fact that once overheard: Once, on a big change, walking along the Gymnasium Garden, Olya Meshcherskaya quickly, Quickly spoke to her beloved friend, full, high subbotens:

I'm in the same father's book, "he has many old funny books," he read, what beauty should have a woman ... There, you understand, so much risen that you don't remember everything: well, of course, black, boiling with a resin, - by God And it is written: boiling resin! - Black, like night, eyelashes, gently playing blush, thin mill, longer than an ordinary hand, - you understand, longer than ordinary! - Little leg, moderately big breasts, correctly rounded caviar, knee color of the sink, showing shoulders, - I learned a lot to learn, so it's all right! - But most importantly, do you know what? - Easy breath! But I have it, - Listen, how I sigh, - because the truth is, there?

Now it's easy breathing again scattered in the world, in this cloudy sky, in this cold spring wind.

The issue of the meaning of life is eternal, in the literature of the beginning of the twentieth century, the discussion of this topic continued. Now it makes no sense to achieve some clear goal, but in something else. For example, according to the theory of "living life", the importance of human existence in it itself, regardless of what this life is. V. Veresaev, A. Kuprin, I. Shmelev, B. Zaitsev adhered to this thought. "Live Life" reflected in his writings is also I. Bunin, his "light breathing" is a vivid example.

However, the reason for creating a story was not at all life: Bunin conceived the novel, walking around the cemetery. Seeing the cross with a portrait of a young woman, the writer was amazed as her cheerfulness contrasts with the surrounding sorceration. What was life? Why is she, so live and joyful, left this world so early? No one could answer these questions. But the imagination of the Bunin drew the life of this girl, who became the heroine of the novels "Easy Breathing".

The plot is externally unfortunate: Cheerful and developed by the years Olya Meshcherskaya causes burning interest among the opposite sex with his female attractiveness, her behavior is irritating from the head of the gymnasium, which decides to hold an instructive conversation for the pupil about how modesty is important. But this conversation ended unexpectedly: the girl said that she was no longer a girl, she became a woman after his acquaintance with his brother and friend Malyutin's father. It was soon that this is not the only love story: Olya met with a Cossack officer. The latter planned an ambulance wedding. However, at the station, before the departure of the lover in Novocherkassk, Meshcherskaya reported that their relations for her insignificant and marry it would not go. After that, he suggested reading a diary record about his fall. Military shot a windy girl, it is from the description of her grave begins the novel. A cool lady often goes to the cemetery, the fate of the student has become meaningful.

Topics

The main topics of Novella are the value of life, beauty and simplicity. The author himself interpreted his story as a narrative of the highest degree of simplicity in a woman: "Naivence and ease in everything, and in keenness, and in death." Olya lived, without limiting himself with rules and stood, including moral. It is in this simpleness that gives up to spoilness, and the charm of the heroine was. She lived as living, the faithful theory of "living life": why to restrain himself, if life is so beautiful? So she sincerely rejoiced her attractiveness, not worrying about herbs and decency. Also having fun of the courtesies of young people, not perceiving their feelings seriously (Shenshin's gymnasist was on the verge of suicide because of love for her).

Also Bunin touched the theme of the meaninglessness and the serness of being in the form of teacher Ol. This "elderly girl" is opposed to his student: the only pleasure for her is a suitable illusory idea: "At first, her brother was the poor and no wonderful ensign - she connected her soul with him, with his future, which for some reason She appeared brilliant. When he was killed under Mukden, she convinced himself that she was ideological worker. The death of Olya Meshchersk was captured by her new dream. Now Olya Meshcherskaya is the subject of its relentless dooms and feelings. "

Problems

• The question of the balance between passions and decencies is quite controversial in the novel. The writer clearly sympathizes Ole, which chooses the first, chasing in it "light breathing" as a synonym for charm and naturalness. As opposed to this, the heroine was punished for his frivolity, and he was tightly punished - death. From this flows the problem of freedom: society with its conventions is not ready to give the identity of permissiveness even in the intimate sphere. Many people think that this is good, but they are often forced to thoroughly hide and suppress the hidden desires of their own soul. But to achieve harmony, a compromise is needed between society and an individual, and not the unconditional primacy of the interests of one of them.
• You can also allocate a social aspect in the issues of Novella: the insane and dull atmosphere of the provincial city, where it can happen, if no one knows. In such a place, there really no longer do nothing more, except to discuss and condemn those who want to escape from the gray routine of being at least due to passion. Social inequality manifests itself between Olya and her last lover ("ugly and plebeian species who did not even have anything in common with that circle to which Olya Meshcherskaya"). Obviously, the same class prejudice was the reason for refusal.
• On the relationship in the family Olyas, the author does not stop, but judging by the feelings of the heroine and events in her life, they are far from the ideal: "I was so happy that one! I walked in the garden in the morning, in the field, it was in the forest, it seemed to me that I was one in the whole world, and I thought so good as never in my life. I lunch alone, then the whole hour played, I had such a feeling for the music that I would live without end and I would be so happy as no one. Obviously, nobody was engaged in education, and her problem is in abandonment: no one taught her at least with his example, as it should be balancing between feelings and mind.

Characteristic of heroes

1. The main and most revealed name of the novel - Olya Meshcherskaya. The author pays great attention to her appearance: the girl is very beautiful, graceful, elegant. But the inner world is mentioned a little, the focus is only on windiness and frankness. After reading in the book that the basis of the female glamor is light breathing, it began to actively develop it and externally, and internally. It does not only sighs shallow, but also thinks, fluttering in life, like a moth. Moth, circling around the fire, invariably poured the wings, and the heroine died in the color of the years.
2. The Cossack officer is a fatal and mysterious hero, it is unknown anything, except for a sharp difference from Ol. As they met, the motives of the murder, the course of their relationship - you can only guess about all this. Most likely, the officer is a passionate and fondant, he loved (or believed that he loved), but it clearly did not satisfy the frivolity of Olya. The hero wanted the girl to belong only to him, so he was ready to take her life.
3. The class lady suddenly appears in the final as the contrast element. She has never lived enjoyment, puts goals, living in the fictional world. She and Olya - two extremes of the problem of balance between duty and desire.

Composition and genre

The genre of "easy breathing" - Novella (short story story), in a small amount reflected many problems and topics, painting the life of different groups of society was drawn.

Special attention deserves the composition of the story. The narrative is consistent, but it is fragmentary. At first we see the grave of Oli, then it tells about her fate, further a return to the real - a visit to the cemetery of the classroom. Speaking about the life of the heroine, the author chooses a special focus in the narration: he describes in detail the conversation with the head of the gymnasium, the seduction of Oli, but her murder, acquaintance with the officer is described in several words. Bunin concentrates on the feelings, sensations, paints, his story is written in watercolor, it is filled with air and softness, therefore it is impartially described by pleasing.

Meaning of the name

"Easy breathing" is the very first component of the female glamor, as the creators of books, who have an Olya Father. Easy, moving to frivolity, wanted to learn the girl. And she reached a goal, although she paid, but "this light breathing was scattered again in the world, in this cloudy sky, in this cold spring wind."

Also, the ease is associated with the style of Novels: the author diligently bypassing sharp corners, although it speaks of monumental things: true and contrived love, honor and dishonor, illusory and real life. But this is a work, according to the writer E. Kolton, leaves the impression of "bright thanks to the Creator for the fact that there is such beauty in the world."

It is possible to relate differently to the rioon, but its style is full of imagery, the beauty of presentation and courage is a fact. He speaks of everything, even forbidden, but knows how not to go beyond the edge of vulgarity. That is why this talented writer is loved and today.

Ivan Bunin

Easy breath

On the cemetery, over fresh clay embankment is a new cross from oak, strong, heavy, smooth.

April, gray days; Monuments of the cemetery, spacious, county, are still far away through bare trees, and the cold wind rises and rings a porcelain wreath at the foot of the cross.

In the very same cross, the cross is pretty large, a convex porcelain medallion, and in the medallion - a photographic portrait of a gymnasium with joyful, strikingly alive eyes.

This is Olya Meshcherskaya.

The girl she did not stand out in the crowd of brown gymnasic dresses: what could be said about her, except that she was from the number of pretty, rich and happy girls, that she is capable, but playful and very careless to those instructions that she makes her cool lady ? Then she began to flourish, not developing by day, but by the hour. At fourteen years, she, with a thin waist and slender legs, have already been well described and all those forms whose charm has never expressed the human word; In fifteen she was already heard by beauty. How carefully combed some of her friends, as was chopped, as they watched their restrained movements! And she was not afraid of anything - neither ink spots on the fingers, neither the painted face, no disheveled hair, nor the knee-driving on the knee. Without her worries and effort and somehow imperceptibly came to her all that it was so distinguished by her in the past two years from the entire gymnasium, - grace, elegacity, dexterity, clear eye glitter ... Nobody danced so on the bala like Olya Meshcherskaya Nobody ran so on the skates, as she, at whom they did not care for the balls, as much as he was behind her, and for some reason no one had loved so younger classes as her. She became unnoticed by her girl, and her gymnasic glory was imperceptibly strengthened, and she had already taken any senses that she was windy, he could not live without fans that the Shenshin gymnasist was inseractlessly in love with her, as if she would love him, but so a change in handling him that he attempted suicide ...

Olya Meshcherskaya, the last winter, was completely crazy from fun, as they said in the gymnasium. Winter was snowy, sunny, frosty, early Sun designed the sun for the high spruce of a snowy gymnasium garden, invariably, the radiant, promising and tomorrow frost and sun, walking on the cathedral street, skating rink in the city garden, pink evening, music and this in all sides The crowd sliding on the rink, in which Olya Meshcherskaya seemed the most carefree, the most happy. And once, on a big change, when she was swirl on the national team from the first-graders he driving and blissfully called her, it was unexpectedly called to the boss. She stopped with a scatter, he made only one deep breath, quickly and already familiar female movement recovered her hair, jerked the corners of the apron to the shoulders and, shining her eyes, ran upstairs. The boss, two-way, but gray, calmly sat with knitting in his hands at the desk, under the royal portrait.

"Hello, Mademoiselle Meshcherskaya," she said in French, without raising her eyes from knitting. - I, unfortunately, is no longer forced to call you here to talk with you about your behavior.

"I listen, Madame," answered Meshcherskaya, coming to the table, looking at her clearly and alive, but without any expression on his face, and sat so easily and gracefully as soon as she knew that one.

"To listen to me, you will be bad, I, unfortunately, was convinced of this," said the boss and, pulling a thread and wrapped on the lacquered floor, the Meshcherskaya looked with curiosity, raised his eyes. "I will not repeat, I will not speak extensively," she said.

Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually pure and large office, so well breathable in frosty days with warm shiny Dutch and the freshness of the valley in the writing desk. She looked at the young king, to the full growth of the written among some brilliant hall, on a smooth sample in dairy, neatly corrugated hair, the boss and expectantly silent.

"You are no longer a girl," the boss said meaningfully, in secretly starting annoying.

- Yes, Madame, - Simply, Meshcherskaya answered almost fun.

"But not a woman," the boss said even more significant, and her matte face was slightly excited. - First of all, what is this hairstyle? This is a female hairstyle!

"I'm not guilty, Madame that I have good hair," Meshcherskaya replied and slightly touched her beautiful head her hands.

- Oh, that's how you are not to blame! - said the boss. - You are not guilty in the hairstyle, not to blame for these expensive ridges, is not to blame that we ruin our parents on twenty rubles! But, I repeat to you, you absolutely overlook that you are only a gymnasics ...

And then Meshcherskaya, without losing simplicity and calm, suddenly politely interrupted her:

- Sorry, Madame, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And to blame for this - you know who? Friend and neighbor Pope, and your brother Alexey Mikhailovich Malyutin. It happened last summer in the village ...

And a month later, after this conversation, the Cossack officer, an ugly and plebeian species, who had nothing to do with that circle to which Olya Meshcherskaya was shot on the platform of the station, among the big crowd of the people, just arriving with the train. And the incredible, who stunned the boss, the recognition of Oli Meshcherskaya was completely confirmed: the officer stated his judicial investigator that the Meshcheck was set up, he was close to him, swore to be his wife, and at the station, on the day of the murder, speaking him in Novocherkassk, suddenly told him that she And I didn't think to love him that all these conversations about marriage were one of her mockery over him, and let him read the diary page, where it was said about Malyutin.

"I ran these lines and immediately, on the platform, where she walked, waiting until I finish reading, fired into her," said the officer. - This diary is this, take a look that it was written in it in the tenth of July last year.

The following was written in the diary:

"Now for the second hour of the night. I fastened hard, but immediately woke up ... now I became a woman! Dad, Mom and Tolya, everyone went to the city, I was alone. I was so happy that alone! I walked in the garden in the morning, in the field, it was in the forest, it seemed to me that I was one in the whole world, and I thought so good as never in my life. I lunch alone, then a whole hour played, I had such a feeling for the music that I would live without end and I would be so happy as no one. Then he fell asleep from dad in the office, and at four o'clock I woke me up, said Alexey Mikhailovich. I was very happy with him, I was so nice to take it and take it. He arrived at the pair of his Vyatok, very beautiful, and they all the time stood at the porch, he was left, because it was raining, and he wanted to dry in the evening. He regretted that he did not find dad, was very animated and kept himself with a cavalier, he joked a lot that he had long been in love with me. When we walked before tea in the garden, there was again charming weather, the sun glistened through the whole wet garden, although it became very cold, and he led me at hand and said that he was Faust with Margarita. He is fifty-six years old, but he is still very beautiful and always dressed - I didn't like it only that he came to the Corycle, - it smells in English cologne, and the eyes are very young, black, and the beard is elegantly divided into two long pieces and completely silver. For tea, we sat on a glass veranda, I felt like unhealthy and lay on the ottoo, and he smoked, then I moved to me, began to say any kind of courtesy again, then consider and kiss my hand. I closed my face with a silk handkerchief, and he kissed me several times on his lips through a handkerchief ... I do not understand how it could happen, I went crazy, I never thought I was like this! Now I am one way out ... I feel such a disgust for him that I can not survive it! .. "

The city for these April days was clean, dry, the stones were coars, and it's easy and pleasant to go. Every Sunday, after the dinner, on the Cathedral Street, leading to the departure from the city, a little woman is sent in Touréra, in black like gloves, with an umbrella of ebony. It goes along the highway dirty area, where many worsted forges and freshly blowing field air; Further, between the male monastery and the Ostrog, whites the cloud slope of the sky and he seine the spring field, and then, when we grow up among the puddle under the wall of the monastery and turn to the left, you will see a big low garden, disconnected by a white fence, over the gates of which is written by the mother's audience. The little woman is finely baptized and is familiar to the main alley. Having reached the bench against the oak cross, she sits in the wind and on the spring cold hour, two, until her feet in light shoes and hand in a narrow skin. Listening to spring birds, sweetly singing and in the cold, listening to the winds of the wind in a porcelain wreath, she sometimes thinks that he would give half every cells, just before her eyes of this dead wreath. This wreath, this hill, Oak Cross! Is it possible that under him, whose eyes are so immortally shine from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross, and how to combine with this clean look, is the terrible, what is connected now with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya? But in the depths of the soul, the little woman is happy, like all the people devoted to some passionate dream.