Spring waters. Heroes of the story "Spring Waters" by Turgenev: characteristics of the main characters

Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev

spring waters

happy years,

Happy Days -

Like spring waters

They raced!

From an old romance

…About one o'clock in the night, he returned to his office. He sent out a servant who lit the candles, and throwing himself into an armchair near the fireplace, covered his face with both hands.

Never before had he felt so tired, physically and mentally. He spent the whole evening with pleasant ladies, with educated men; some of the ladies were beautiful, almost all the men were distinguished by intelligence and talents - he himself talked very successfully and even brilliantly ... and, with all that, never before that “taedium vitae”, which the Romans already spoke about, that “disgust for life” - with such irresistible force did not take possession of him, did not choke him. If he had been a little younger, he would have wept from anguish, from boredom, from irritation: caustic and burning bitterness, like the bitterness of wormwood, filled his whole soul. Something hauntingly obnoxious, disgustingly heavy surrounded him on all sides, like a dark autumn night; and he did not know how to get rid of this darkness, this bitterness. There was no hope for sleep: he knew that he would not fall asleep.

He began to think... slowly, languidly and viciously.

He thought about the vanity, the uselessness, the vulgar falsity of everything human. All ages gradually passed before his mind's eye (he himself had recently passed the 52nd year) - and not a single one found mercy in front of him. Everywhere the same eternal transfusion from empty to empty, the same pounding of water, the same half-conscientious, half-conscious self-deception—no matter what the child amuses herself with, as long as she doesn’t cry—and then suddenly, like snow on one’s head, old age - and with it that ever-increasing, corroding and undermining fear of death ... and bang into the abyss! It's good if life plays out like that! And then, perhaps, before the end, like rust on iron, infirmities, suffering ... Not covered by stormy waves, as the poets describe, he imagined the sea of ​​\u200b\u200blife; No; he imagined this sea calmly smooth, motionless and transparent to the darkest bottom; he himself sits in a small, rolling boat - and there, on this dark, muddy bottom, like huge fish, ugly monsters are barely visible: all worldly ailments, illnesses, sorrows, madness, poverty, blindness ... He looks - and here is one of the monsters stands out from the darkness, rises higher and higher, becomes more and more clear, everything is disgustingly clearer ... Another minute - and the boat propped up by him will capsize! But here it again seems to grow dim, it moves away, sinks to the bottom - and it lies there, slightly stirring the pool ... But the appointed day will come - and it will turn the boat over.

He shook his head, jumped up from his chair, walked about the room twice, sat down at the writing-table, and, pulling out one drawer after another, began to rummage through his papers, old letters, mostly from women. He himself did not know why he was doing this, he was not looking for anything - he simply wanted to get rid of the thoughts that tormented him by some external occupation. Having unrolled several letters at random (one of them contained a withered flower tied with a faded ribbon), he just shrugged his shoulders and, glancing at the fireplace, threw them aside, probably intending to burn all this unnecessary rubbish. Hastily thrusting his hands first into one drawer, then into another, he suddenly opened his eyes wide and, slowly pulling out a small octagonal box of an old cut, slowly lifted its lid. In the box, under a double layer of yellowed cotton paper, was a small pomegranate cross.

For a few moments he examined this cross with bewilderment - and suddenly he cried out weakly ... Either regret, or joy portrayed his features. A similar expression is shown on the face of a person when he has to suddenly meet another person whom he has long lost sight of, whom he once loved dearly and who now suddenly appears before his eyes, all the same - and all changed over the years.

He got up and, returning to the fireplace, sat down again in an armchair - and again covered his face with his hands ... “Why today? exactly today?" - he thought - and he remembered a lot, long past.

Here's what he remembered...

But first you need to say his name, patronymic and surname. His name was Sanin, Dmitry Pavlovich.

Here's what he remembered:

It was the summer of 1840. Sanin was in his twenties and was in Frankfurt, on his way back from Italy to Russia. He was a man with a small fortune, but independent, almost without a family. After the death of a distant relative, he had several thousand rubles - and he decided to live them abroad, before entering the service, before the final laying on himself of that official collar, without which a secure existence became unthinkable for him. Sanin carried out his intention exactly and arranged it so skilfully that on the day of his arrival in Frankfurt he had just enough money to get to Petersburg. In 1840 there were very few railroads; Mr. tourists traveled in stagecoaches. Sanin took a seat in the Beiwagen; but the stagecoach departed only at eleven o'clock in the evening. There was plenty of time left. Fortunately, the weather was fine - and Sanin, after having lunch at the then famous White Swan Hotel, went to wander around the city. He went to see Dannecker's Ariadne, which he did not like much, visited Goethe's house, from whose works he, however, read one "Werther" - and then in a French translation; walked along the banks of the Main, got bored, as a respectable traveler should; Finally, at six o'clock in the evening, tired, with dusty feet, I found myself in one of the most insignificant streets of Frankfurt. He could not forget this street for a long time. On one of her few houses, he saw a sign: "Italian confectionery Giovanni Roselli" declared itself to passers-by. Sanin went in to drink a glass of lemonade; but in the first room, where, behind a modest counter, on the shelves of a painted cabinet, resembling a pharmacy, there were several bottles with gold labels and the same number of glass jars with crackers, chocolate cakes and candies, there was not a soul in this room; only the gray cat squinted and purred, shifting its paws on a high wicker chair near the window, and, glowing brightly in the slanting beam of the evening sun, a large ball of red wool lay on the floor next to an overturned basket of carved wood. A vague noise was heard in the next room. Sanin stood for a moment - and, letting the bell on the door ring to the end, he said, raising his voice: "Is there anyone here?" At the same instant, the door from the next room opened, and Sanin was forced to be astonished.

A girl of about nineteen impetuously ran into the confectionery, with dark curls scattered over her bare shoulders, with outstretched bare arms, and, seeing Sanin, immediately rushed to him, grabbed his arm and dragged him along, saying in a breathless voice: “Hurry, hurry, here, save me!" Not out of unwillingness to obey, but simply out of an excess of amazement, Sanin did not immediately follow the girl - and, as it were, rested on the spot: he had never seen such a beauty in his life. She turned to what - and with such desperation in her voice, in her eyes, in the movement of her clenched hand convulsively raised to her pale cheek, she said: “Go on, go on!” - that he immediately rushed after her through the open door.

In the room where he ran after the girl, on an old-fashioned horsehair sofa, all white - white with yellowish tints, like wax or like ancient marble, lay a boy of fourteen years old, strikingly like a girl, obviously her brother. His eyes were closed, the shadow of his thick black hair fell like a stain on his petrified forehead, on motionless thin eyebrows; clenched teeth showed from under blue lips. He didn't seem to be breathing; one hand dropped to the floor, the other he threw over his head. The boy was dressed and buttoned up; a tight tie was squeezing his neck.

The girl rushed towards him with a cry.

He is dead, he is dead! she cried, “just now he was sitting here, talking to me, and suddenly he fell down and became motionless… My God! can't you help? And no mom! Pantaleone, Pantaleone, what's the doctor? she added suddenly in Italian: "did you go to the doctor?"

“Signora, I didn’t go, I sent Louise,” a hoarse voice came from outside the door, “and a little old man in a purple tailcoat with black buttons, a high white tie, nanke short trousers and blue woolen stockings entered the room, hobbled on crooked legs. His tiny face completely disappeared under a whole mass of gray, iron-colored hair. Rising steeply upwards on all sides and falling back in disheveled braids, they gave the figure of the old man a resemblance to a crested chicken - the resemblance is all the more striking because under their dark gray mass one could only make out that a pointed nose and round yellow eyes.

“Louisa is running away quickly, but I can’t run,” the old man continued in Italian, alternately raising his flat, arthritic legs, shod in high shoes with bows, “but I brought water.

With his dry, gnarled fingers he squeezed the long neck of the bottle.

“But Emil is still dead!” the girl exclaimed, and held out her hands to Sanin. “Oh my lord, oh mein Herr! Can't you help?

“We need to let him bleed - this is a blow,” remarked the old man, who bore the name of Pantaleone.

Although Sanin had not the slightest idea of ​​medicine, he knew one thing for sure: fourteen-year-old boys don't get strokes.

“This is a faint, not a blow,” he said, turning to Pantaleone. - Do you have

The story is prefaced by a quatrain from an old Russian romance:
happy years,
Happy Days -
Like spring waters
They rushed
Apparently, it will be about love, youth. Maybe in the form of memories? Yes indeed. "About one o'clock in the night he returned to his study. He sent out a servant who lit the candles, and throwing himself into an armchair near the fireplace, covered his face with both hands."
Well, apparently, “he” (from our point of view) lives well, no matter who he is: the servant lights the candles, he lit the fireplace for him. As it turns out later, he spent the evening with pleasant ladies, with educated men. In addition: some of the ladies were beautiful, almost all the men were smart and talented. He also sparkled in the conversation. Why is he now strangled by "aversion to life"?
And what is he (Dmitry Pavlovich Sanin) thinking about in the quiet of a cozy warm office? "About the vanity, uselessness, vulgar falsity of everything human." That's it, no more, no less!
He is 52 years old, he remembers all ages and sees no light. “Everywhere is the same eternal transfusion from empty to empty, the same pounding of water, the same half-conscientious, half-conscious self-deception ... - and then suddenly, just like snow on your head, old age will come - and with it ... the fear of death ... and bang into the abyss!" And before the end of weakness, suffering ...
To divert himself from unpleasant thoughts, he sat down at his desk, began to rummage through his papers, through old women's letters, intending to burn this unnecessary rubbish. Suddenly he cried out weakly: in one of the boxes there was a box in which lay a small pomegranate cross.
He again sat down in an armchair by the fireplace - and again covered his face with his hands. "... And he remembered a lot, long past ... That's what he remembered ..."
In the summer of 1840 he was in Frankfurt, returning from Italy to Russia. After the death of a distant relative, he had several thousand rubles; he decided to live them abroad, and then do not serve.
At that time, tourists traveled in stagecoaches: there were still few railways. Sanin was to leave for Berlin that day.
Walking around the city, at six o'clock in the evening he went to the "Italian confectionery" to drink a glass of lemonade. There was no one in the first room, then a 19-year-old girl ran in from the next room "with dark curls scattered over her bare shoulders, with bare arms outstretched forward." Seeing Sanin, the stranger grabbed his hand and led him along. "Hurry, hurry, here, save!" she said in a breathless voice. He had never seen such a beauty in his life.
In the next room lay on the sofa her brother, a boy of 14, pale, with blue lips. It was a sudden collapse. A tiny, shaggy old man with crooked legs hobbled into the room and said that he had sent for a doctor...
"- But Emil will die for now!" the girl exclaimed and held out her hands to Sanin, begging for help. He took off the boy's frock coat, unbuttoned his shirt, and, taking a brush, began to rub his chest and arms. At the same time, he glanced askance at the extraordinary beauty of the Italian. The nose is a little big, but "beautiful, aquiline fret", dark gray eyes, long dark curls ...
Finally, the boy woke up, soon a lady with silver-gray hair and a swarthy face appeared, as it turns out, the mother of Emil and his sister. At the same time the maid came with the doctor.
Fearing that now he was superfluous, Sanin went out, but the girl caught up with him and begged him to return in an hour "for a cup of chocolate." "- We owe you so much - you may have saved your brother - we want to thank you - mom wants. You must tell us who you are, you must rejoice with us ..."
An hour and a half later he showed up. All the inhabitants of the candy store seemed unspeakably happy. On a round table, covered with a clean tablecloth, stood a huge porcelain coffee pot filled with fragrant chocolate; around the cup, carafes of syrup, biscuits, rolls. Candles burned in ancient silver chandeliers.
Sanin was seated in an easy chair and forced to tell about himself; in turn, the ladies let him in on the details of their lives. They are all Italians. Mother - a lady with silver-gray hair and a swarthy face "almost completely Germanized", since her late husband, an experienced confectioner, settled in Germany 25 years ago; daughter Gemma and son Emil "very good and obedient children"; a little old man named Pantaleone, it turns out, was once an opera singer, but now "in the Roselli family he was something between a friend of the house and a servant."
The mother of the family, Frau Lenore, imagined Russia like this: "eternal snow, everyone wears fur coats and all the military - but the hospitality is extraordinary! Sanin tried to give her and her daughter more accurate information." He even sang "Sarafan" and "On the pavement street", and then Pushkin's "I remember a wonderful moment" to the music of Glinka, somehow accompanying himself on the piano. The ladies admired the ease and sonority of the Russian language, then they sang several Italian duets. The former singer Pantaleone also tried to perform something, some kind of "extraordinary grace", but failed. And then Emil suggested that the sister read to the guest "one of Maltz's comedies, which she reads so well."
Gemma read "quite like an actor," "using her facial expressions." Sanin admired her so much that he did not notice how the evening flew by and completely forgot that at half past ten his stagecoach departed. When the clock struck 10 in the evening, he jumped up as if stung. Late!
“Did you pay all the money, or did you just give a deposit?” Frau Lenore asked curiously.
- All! Sanin cried out with a sad grimace.
“Now you must stay in Frankfurt for several days,” Gemma told him, “where are you in a hurry ?!”
He knew that he would have to stay "because of the emptiness of his wallet" and ask a Berlin friend to send money.
"Stay, stay," Frau Lenore also said. "We will introduce you to Gemma's fiancé, Mr. Karl Klüber."
Sanin was slightly taken aback by this news.
And the next day, guests came to his hotel: Emil and with him a tall young man "with a handsome face" - Gemma's fiancé.
The groom said that he "wanted to express his respect and his gratitude to the foreigner, who rendered such an important service to the future relative, the brother of his bride."
Mr. Klüber hurried to his shop - "business first!" - and Emil still stayed with Sanin and told that his mother, under the influence of Mr. Klüber, wants to make a merchant out of him, while his vocation is theater.
Sanin was invited to his new friends for breakfast and stayed until the evening. Around Gemma, everything seemed pleasant and sweet. "Great charms lurk in the monotonously quiet and smooth course of life" ... With the onset of night, when he went home, the "image" of Gemma did not leave him. And the next day, in the morning, Emil appeared to him and announced that Herr Klüber, (who had invited everyone the day before for a pleasure ride), would now arrive with a carriage. A quarter of an hour later Kluber, Sanin and Emil drove up to the porch of the confectionery. Frau Lenore stayed at home because of a headache, but sent Gemma with them.
Let's go to Soden - a small town near Frankfurt. Sanin furtively watched Gemma and her fiancé. She behaved calmly and simply, but still somewhat more seriously than usual, and the groom "looked like a condescending mentor"; he also treated nature "with the same indulgence through which the usual bossy severity occasionally broke through."
Then lunch, coffee; nothing remarkable. But rather drunken officers were sitting at one of the neighboring tables, and suddenly one of them approached Gemma. He had already managed to visit Frankfurt and apparently knew her. “I drink to the health of the most beautiful coffee shop in the whole of Frankfurt, in the whole world (he “popped” the glass at once) - and in retribution I take this flower, plucked by her divine fingers!” At the same time, he took the rose that lay in front of her. At first she was frightened, then anger flashed in her eyes! Her gaze confused the drunk, who, muttering something, "went back to his own."
Herr Klüber, putting on his hat, said: "This is unheard of! Unheard of insolence!" and demanded an immediate settlement from the waiter. He also ordered the carriage to be laid down, since "decent people cannot travel here, because they are insulted!"
"Get up, Main Fraulein," Herr Klüber said with the same severity, "it's indecent for you to stay here. We'll settle down there, in the tavern!"
Hand in hand with Gemma, he marched majestically to the inn. Emil followed them.
Meanwhile, Sanin, as befits a nobleman, went up to the table where the officers were sitting and said in French to the offender: "You are an ill-mannered impudent one." He jumped up, and another officer, older, stopped him and asked Sanin, also in French, who he was to that girl.
Sanin, throwing his business card on the table, declared that he was a stranger to the girl, but he could not see such insolence with indifference. He grabbed the rose he had taken from Gemma and left, having received the assurance that "tomorrow morning one of the officers of their regiment will have the honor to come to his apartment."
The groom pretended not to notice Sanin's act. Gemma didn't say anything either. And Emil was ready to throw himself on the neck of the hero or go with him to fight with the offenders.
Klüber ranted all the way: about the fact that they should not have listened to him when he offered to dine in a closed arbor, about morality and immorality, about decency and a sense of dignity ... Gradually, Gemma clearly became embarrassed for her fiancé. And Sanin secretly rejoiced at everything that happened, and at the end of the trip he handed her that same rose. She flushed and squeezed his hand.
This is how this love started.
In the morning a second appeared and said that his friend, Baron von Donhof, "would be satisfied with a slight apology." It wasn't there. Sanin replied that he did not intend to give either heavy or light apologies, and when the second left, he could not figure it out: “How did life suddenly spin like that? All the past, all the future suddenly faded away, disappeared - and only that I'm fighting with someone in Frankfurt for something."
Pantaleone unexpectedly appeared with a note from Gemma: she was worried and asked Sanin to come. Sanin promised and at the same time invited Pantaleone as a second: there were no other candidates. The old man, shaking his hand, pompously said: "- Noble young man! Great heart! .." and promised to give an answer soon. An hour later, he appeared very solemnly, handed Sanin his old business card, agreed, and said that "honor is above all!" etc.
Then the negotiations between the two seconds ... They worked out the conditions: "To shoot for Baron von Donhof and Mr. de Sanin tomorrow, at 10 o'clock in the morning ... at a distance of 20 steps. stage "accepted and made challenges": operatic baritones "are known to be very cocky in their roles."
After spending the evening at the house of the Roselli family, Sanin went out late in the evening on the porch and walked along the street. “And how many of them poured out, these stars ... All of them glowed and swarmed, vying with each other, playing with beams.” Having caught up with the house in which the confectionery was located, he saw: a dark window opened and a female figure appeared in it. Gemma!
The surrounding nature seems to react sensitively to what is happening in the soul. Suddenly a gust of wind came up, "the earth seemed to tremble underfoot, the thin starlight trembled and streamed ..." And again silence. Sanin saw such a beauty "that his heart sank."
"- I wanted to give you this flower ... She threw him an already withered rose, which he won back the day before. And the window slammed shut."
He fell asleep only in the morning. "Instantly, like that whirlwind, love came upon him." A stupid duel ahead! "And suddenly he will be killed or maimed?"
Sanin and Pantaleone were the first to arrive in the woods where the duel was to take place. Then both officers appeared, accompanied by a doctor; "a bag of surgical instruments and bandages dangled over his left shoulder."
What are the apt characteristics of the participants.
Doctor. "It was evident that he was utterly used to such excursions ... each duel brought him 8 chervonets - 4 from each of the warring parties." Sanin, a romantic in love. "Pantaleone!" Sanin whispered to the old man, "if... if they kill me, anything can happen, get a piece of paper out of my side pocket - a flower is wrapped in it - give this piece of paper to signora Gemma. Do you hear? Do you promise?"
But Pantaleone hardly heard anything. By this time he had lost all theatrical pathos and at the decisive moment suddenly yelled:
"- A la-la-la ... What a wildness! Two such young men are fighting - why? What the hell? Go home!"
Sanin fired first and missed, the bullet "tinkled against a tree." Baron Denhof deliberately "fired to the side, into the air."
"Why did you fire into the air?" Sanin asked.
- It's none of your business.
- Will you shoot into the air for the second time? Sanin asked again.
- May be; Don't know".
Of course, Donhof felt that during the dinner he did not behave in the best way and did not want to kill an innocent person. Still, he had no conscience, apparently.
"I refuse my shot," Sanin said and threw the pistol on the ground.
“And I don’t intend to continue the duel either,” Donhof exclaimed and also threw down his pistol ... "
Both shook hands. Then the second announced:
"Honor is satisfied - and the duel is over!"
Returning from the duel in the carriage, Sanin felt relieved in his soul and at the same time "was a little ashamed and ashamed ..." But Pantaleone again perked up and now behaved like "a victorious general returning from the field of a battle he won." Emil was waiting for them on the road. "- You are alive, you are not injured!"
They arrived at the hotel and there suddenly a woman came out of a dark corridor, "her face was covered with a veil." She immediately disappeared, but Sanin recognized Gemma "under the thick silk of a brown veil."
Then Madame Lenore appeared to Sanin: Gemma told her that she did not want to marry Mr. Klüber.
"- You acted like a noble person; but what an unfortunate set of circumstances!"
The circumstances were really gloomy, as usual largely due to social reasons.
"- I'm not talking about ... that it's a shame for us that this has never happened in the world for the bride to refuse the groom; but this is ruin for us ... We can no longer live on income from our store ... but Mr. Kluber very rich and will be even richer. And why should he be refused? Because he did not stand up for his bride? Suppose that this is not entirely good of him, but he is a stately man, he was not brought up at the university and, as a respectable merchant , had to despise the frivolous prank of an unknown officer. And what an insult it is ...! "
Frau Lenore had her own understanding of the situation.
"- And how will Mr. Kluber trade in the store if he fights with customers? This is completely incongruous! And now ... refuse? But how are we going to live?"
It turned out that the dish, which before only their confectionery prepared, now everyone began to do it, many competitors appeared.
Perhaps, not wanting it himself, Turgenev revealed the whole ins and outs of the then morals, relationships, suffering. The hard way, century after century, people go to a new understanding of life; or rather, to the one that arose at the dawn of human civilization, but still has by no means captured the mass consciousness because it is still intertwined with many erroneous and cruel ideas. People go the way of suffering, through trial and error... "Make everything smooth"... - called Christ. He talked about the social structure, and not about the terrain. And not about universal barracks equality of income, but about equality of opportunities to realize oneself; and about the level of mass spiritual development, probably.
The main moral law is the idea of ​​universal equality of opportunity. Without any privileges, advantages. When this idea is fully implemented, all people will be able to love each other. After all, there can be no true friendship, not only between the oppressor and the oppressed, but also between the privileged and those deprived of these privileges.
And now, it seems, almost the culmination of this, in its own way tragic, albeit ordinary story. Sanin must ask Gemma not to reject Mr. Klüber. Frau Lenore begs him about this.
"- She must believe you - you risked your life! .. You will prove to her that she will destroy both herself and all of us. You saved my son - save my daughter too! God himself sent you here ... I am ready to ask you on my knees …"
What should Sanya do?
"Frau Lenore, think why on earth I...
- Do you promise? Don't you want me to die right there, now, in front of you?"
How could he help them when there was nothing even to buy a return ticket? After all, they are, in essence, on the verge of death; The bakery doesn't feed them anymore.
"I'll do whatever you want!" he exclaimed. "I'll talk to Fraulein Gemma..."
He was in a terrible position! First, this duel ... If a more ruthless person were in the place of the baron, he could easily kill or maim. And now the situation is even worse.
"Here," he thought, "now life is spinning! And it's spinning so much that my head is spinning."
Sensations, impressions, unsaid, not quite conscious thoughts ... And above all this - the image of Gemma, that image that so indelibly crashed into his memory on that warm night, in a dark window, under the rays of swarming stars!
What to say to Gemma? Frau Lenore was waiting for him. "Go into the garden; she is there. Look, I'm counting on you!"
Gemma was sitting on a bench picking the ripest cherries from a large basket of cherries. He sat down next to me.
"You dueled today," said Gemma. Her eyes glowed with gratitude.
"- And all this because of me ... for me ... I will never forget this."
Here are just snippets of that conversation. At the same time, he saw "her thin, clean profile, and it seemed to him that he had never seen anything like it - and did not experience anything like what he felt at that moment. His soul flared up."
It was about Mr. Kluber.
"What advice would you give me...?" she asked after a while.
Her hands were trembling. He quietly laid his hand on those pale, trembling fingers.
“I will listen to you ... but what advice will you give me?”
He began to explain: “Your mother believes that to refuse Mr. Klüber only because he did not show special courage the third day ...
- Just because? Gemma said...
- What ... in general ... refuse ...
- But what is your opinion?
- My? - ... He felt something come up to him under the throat and took away his breath. "I suppose so too," he began with an effort...
Gemma straightened up.
- Too? You too?
- Yes ... that is ... - Sanin could not, resolutely could not add a single word.
She promised: "I'll tell my mother ... I'll think about it."
Frau Lenore appeared at the threshold of the door leading from the house to the garden.
"No, no, no, for God's sake don't say anything to her yet," Sanin said hastily, almost frightened.
At home, he mournfully and muffledly exclaimed: "I love her, I love her madly!"
Recklessly, carelessly, he rushed forward. “Now he didn’t reason about anything, didn’t think anything, didn’t calculate and didn’t foresee ...”
He immediately, "almost with a stroke of the pen," wrote a letter:
"Dear Gemma!
You know what advice I have taken upon myself to give you, you know what your mother wants and what she asked me to do, but what you do not know and what I am obliged to tell you now is that I love you, love you. with all the passion of a heart that fell in love for the first time! This fire broke out in me suddenly, but with such force that I cannot find words!! When your mother came to me and asked me - he was still smoldering in me - otherwise, as an honest person, I probably would have refused to fulfill her order ... The very confession that I am now making to you is the confession of an honest person. You must know who you are dealing with - there must be no misunderstanding between us. You see that I cannot give you any advice ... I love you, love, love - and I have nothing else - neither in my mind nor in my heart !!
Dm. Sanin".
It's already night. How to send a letter. It’s embarrassing through the waiter ... He left the hotel and suddenly met Emil, who gladly undertook to convey the letter and soon brought an answer.
"I beg you, I beg you - do not come to us all tomorrow, do not show yourself. I need this, I absolutely need it - and everything will be decided there. I know you will not refuse me, because ...
Gemma."
The whole next day, Sanin and Emil walked in the vicinity of Frankfurt, talking. All the time it seemed to Sanin that tomorrow would bring him unprecedented happiness! "His hour has finally come, the veil has been lifted..."
Returning to the hotel, he found a note, Gemma made an appointment for him the next day, in one of the gardens that surrounded Frankfurt, at 7 o'clock in the morning.
"There was one happy man in Frankfurt that night..."
"Seven! The clock on the tower chimed." Let's skip all the details. There are so many of them everywhere. The experiences of a lover, the weather, the surrounding landscape ...
Gemma arrived shortly. She was wearing a gray mantilla and a small dark hat, in her hands was a small umbrella.
"You're not angry with me?" Sanin finally said. It was hard for Sanin to say anything more stupid than these words... he himself was aware of it...
Well, and so on. How much sincere, naive enthusiasm! How happy he is, how selflessly, selflessly in love!
"Trust me, trust me," he said.
And the reader no longer believes in this cloudless happy moment ... nor Sanin, who is infinitely honest, turned his whole soul inside out; nor the author, truthful and talented; nor Gemma, who recklessly rejected a very advantageous suitor; no, the reader does not believe that such a cloudless, complete happiness is possible in life. It can't be... "There is no happiness in the world...", even Pushkin asserted expertly. Something must happen. We are seized by some kind of sad alertness, we feel sorry for these young and beautiful lovers, so gullible, so recklessly honest. "- I fell in love with you from the very moment I saw you - but I did not immediately understand what you became for me! Besides, I heard that you were an engaged bride ..."
And then Gemma said that she had refused the groom!
"To himself?
- Himself. We have in the house. He came to us.
- Gemma! So you love me?
She turned to him.
- Otherwise... Would I have come here? she whispered, and both her hands fell on the bench.
Sanin seized these powerless hands, palms up, lying on top - and pressed them to his eyes, to his lips ... Here it is, happiness, here is his radiant face!
Another whole page will be occupied by talk of happiness.
“Could I think,” continued Sanin, “could I think, driving up to Frankfurt, where I supposed to stay only a few hours, that I would find here the happiness of my whole life!
- All life? Right? asked Gemma.
- All life, forever and ever! Sanin exclaimed with a new impulse.
"If she had told him at that moment: "Throw yourself into the sea ..." - he would have already flown into the abyss.
Sanin had to go to Russia before the wedding to sell the estate. Frau Lenore was surprised: "So you will sell the peasants too?" (He had once expressed indignation at serfdom in a conversation.)
“I will try to sell my estate to a person whom I will know well,” he said, not without hesitation, “or perhaps the peasants themselves will want to pay off.
"That's the best," agreed Frau Lenore. “And then sell living people…”
In the garden after dinner, Gemma gave Sanin a pomegranate cross, but at the same time she reminded selflessly and modestly: "You must not consider yourself bound" ...
8
How to sell the estate as soon as possible? At the pinnacle of happiness, this practical question tormented Sanin. With the hope of coming up with something, he went out the next morning to take a walk, "ventilate himself" and unexpectedly met Ippolit Polozov, with whom he had once studied together in a boarding school.
Polozov's appearance is quite remarkable: fat, plump, small pig eyes with white eyelashes and eyebrows, a sour expression on his face. And the character matches the appearance. He was a sleepy phlegmatic, indifferent to everything except food. Sanin heard that his wife was beautiful and, in addition, very rich. And now, it turns out, for the second year they live in Wiesbaden, next door to Frankfurt; Polozov came for one day for shopping: his wife instructed, and today he is returning back.
The friends went to have breakfast together at one of the best hotels in Frankfurt, where Polozov occupied the best room.
And Sanin suddenly had an unexpected thought. If the wife of this sleepy phlegmatic is very rich - "they say she is the daughter of some farmer" - will she not buy the estate for "a fair price"?
“I don’t buy estates: there is no capital,” said the phlegmatic. - "Unless my wife will buy it. You talk to her." And even before that, he mentioned that he did not interfere in the affairs of his wife. "She's on her own ... well, I'm on my own."
Having learned that Sanin "started to marry", and the bride "without capital", he asked:
“So, love is very strong, isn’t it?
- You're so funny! Yes, strong.
- And for this you need money?
“Well, yes… yes, yes.”
In the end, Polozov promised to take his friend in his carriage to Wiesbaden.
Now everything depends on Mrs. Polozova. Would she be willing to help? How would that speed up the wedding!
Saying goodbye to Gemma, left alone with her for a moment, Sanin "fell at the feet of a dear girl."
“Are you mine?” she whispered, “will you be back soon?
- I'm yours ... I'll be back, - he repeated breathlessly.
"I'll be waiting for you, my dear!"
The hotel in Wiesbaden looked like a palace. Sanin took a cheaper room and, after resting, went to Polozov's. He sat "in a luxurious velvet armchair in the middle of a magnificent salon." Sanin wanted to speak, but suddenly "a young, beautiful lady in a white silk dress, with black lace, with diamonds on her arms and around her neck - Marya Nikolaevna Polozova herself" appeared.
"Yes, they really told me: this lady is anywhere!" Sanin thought. His soul was filled with Gemma, other women did not matter to him now.
“Mrs. Polozova quite clearly showed traces of her plebeian origin. Her forehead was low, her nose was somewhat fleshy and upturned” ... Well, the fact that her forehead is low still, apparently, does not mean anything: she is smart, it will soon become clear, and in she has a great charm, something powerful, daring, "not that Russian, not that gypsy" ... What about conscientiousness, humanity ... How is it with this? The environment could influence here, of course; and some old impressions... We'll see.
In the evening, a detailed conversation finally took place. She asked about marriage and about the estate.
"He's decidedly charming," she said, half thoughtfully, half absent-mindedly.
And when he promised to take an inexpensive price for the estate, she declared: “I won’t accept any sacrifices from you. How? Instead of encouraging you ... Well, how should I put it better? I will peel like sticky? It's not in my habit. When it happens, I do not spare people - just not in this manner. "
"Oh, keep your eyes open with you!" Sanin thought at the same time.
Or maybe she just wants to show her best side? Show off? But why would she?
Finally, she asked to be given "two days' time" and then she would immediately decide the issue. "After all, you are able to part with your bride for two days?"
But didn’t she try to charm him all the time somehow imperceptibly; gradually, insinuatingly, skillfully? Oh, isn't she slowly enticing Sanin? What for? Well, at least for the purpose of self-affirmation. He's a reckless romantic...
"If you please, come early tomorrow - do you hear?" she called after him.
At night Sanin wrote a letter to Gemma, took it to the post office in the morning and went for a walk in the park where the orchestra was playing. Suddenly the handle of the umbrella "knocked on his shoulder." Before him was the ubiquitous Marya Nikolaevna. Here at the resort, it is not known why, ("Am I not well?"), they forced her to drink some kind of water, after which she had to walk for an hour. She suggested that we go for a walk together.
"Well then, give me your hand. Don't be afraid: your bride isn't here - she won't see you."
As for her husband, he ate and slept a lot, but obviously did not claim her attention at all.
"- We will not talk about this purchase now; we will have a good talk about it after breakfast; and now you must tell me about yourself ... So that I know who I am dealing with. And then, if you want, I will tell you about myself I'll tell you."
He wanted to object, to evade, but she did not allow.
"I want to know not only what I'm buying, but who I'm buying from."
And an interesting long conversation took place. "Marya Nikolaevna listened very cleverly; besides, she herself seemed so frank that she unwittingly called others to frankness." And this long stay together, when she smelled of "quiet and burning temptation"! ..
On the same day, in the hotel, in the presence of Polozov, a business conversation took place about the purchase of the estate. It turned out that this lady has outstanding commercial and administrative abilities! "The whole ins and outs of the economy was well known to her; she carefully asked about everything, entered into everything; her every word hit the target ... "
“Well, all right!” Marya Nikolaevna finally decided. “Now I know your estate ... no worse than you. What price will you put per soul? We also agreed on a price.
Will she let him go tomorrow? Everything's been decided. Is she "driving up to him?" "Why is that? What does she want?.. Those grey, predatory eyes, those dimples on her cheeks, those serpentine braids"... He was no longer able to shake it all off, to throw it away from himself.
In the evening I had to go with her to the theater.
In 1840, the theater in Wiesbaden (like many others then and later) was characterized by "phrasing and miserable mediocrity", "diligent and vulgar routine".
It was unbearable to watch the antics of the actors. But behind the box there was a small room furnished with sofas, and Marya Nikolaevna invited Sanin there.
They are alone again, side by side. He is 22 and so is she. He is someone else's fiancé, and she, apparently, lures him. Caprice? Want to feel your power? "Take everything from life"?
“My father himself hardly knew how to read and write, but he gave us a good upbringing,” she confesses. "- Do not think, however, that I am very learned. Oh, my God, no - I am not learned, and I have no talents. I can hardly write ... right; I cannot read loudly; neither on the piano, nor draw, nor sewing - nothing! Here I am - all here! "
After all, Sanin understood that he was being deliberately lured? But at first I did not pay attention to it, in order to still wait for the solution of my issue. If he had simply insisted in a businesslike way on getting an answer, avoiding all this intimacy, then perhaps the capricious lady would have refused to buy the estate at all. Agreeing to give her a couple of days to think, he waited ... But now, alone, it began to seem to him that he was again seized by some kind of "child, from which he could not get rid of for the second day now." The conversation "in an undertone, almost in a whisper - and this irritated him and worried him even more ..."
How cleverly she manages the situation, how convincingly, skillfully she justifies herself!
“I’m telling you all this,” she continued, “firstly, in order not to listen to these fools (she pointed to the stage where at that moment an actress was howling instead of an actor ...), and secondly, in order to that I am indebted to you: yesterday you told me about yourself.
And finally, there was talk of her strange marriage.
"- Well - and you asked yourself, ... what could be the reason for such a strange ... act on the part of a woman who is not poor ... and not stupid ... and not bad?"
Yes, of course, and Sanin asked himself this question, and the reader is perplexed. This sleepy, inert phlegmatic of hers! Well, be she poor, weak, unsettled. On the contrary, he is poor and helpless! Let's listen to her. How does she herself explain all this?
"Do you want to know what I love the most?
"Freedom," Sanin prompted.
Marya Nikolaevna laid her hand on his arm.
“Yes, Dmitry Pavlovich,” she said, and her voice sounded something special, some kind of undoubted sincerity and importance, “freedom, above all and above all. And don't think that I boast about it - there is nothing laudable about it - only it is so, and always has been and will be so for me; until my death. As a child, I must have seen a lot of slavery and suffered from it.
Why does she even need this marriage? But the secular society of the mid-19th century ... She needed the social status of a married lady. Otherwise, who is she? Rich courtesan, lady of the demimonde? Or an old maid? How many prejudices, conventions. The husband was a sign, a screen in this case. He, in fact, also suited this role. He could eat, sleep, live in luxury, not interfere in anything, only sometimes carry out small assignments.
So that's why this strange marriage! She had planned everything in advance.
“Now you, perhaps, understand why I married Ippolit Sidorych; with him I am free, completely free, like air, like the wind ... And I knew this before the wedding ... "
What an active, active energy it still has. Mind, talent, beauty, reckless prowess ... She will not, like other heroines of Turgenev, sacrifice herself, she will break anyone, adapt to herself.
And she has adapted well to society, although she knows in her heart that all this is "not divine."
"- After all, they will not require me to report here - on this earth; and there (she raised her finger up) - well, let them dispose of it as they know."
Having talked "heart to heart" and thus preparing the ground, she then cautiously went on the offensive.
"- I ask myself, why are you telling me all this?" Sanin admitted.
Marya Nikolaevna moved slightly on the sofa.
- You ask yourself ... Are you so slow-witted? Or so humble?
And suddenly: "- I'm telling you all this, ... because I really like you; yes, don't be surprised, I'm not joking, because after meeting you it would be unpleasant for me to think that you will keep a bad memory of me ... or even not bad, it's all the same to me, but wrong. That's why I got you here, and I'm left alone with you, and I'm talking to you so frankly. Yes, yes, frankly. I'm not lying. And notice, Dmitri Pavlovich, I I know that you are in love with another, that you are going to marry her ... Do justice to my disinterestedness ...
She laughed, but her laughter suddenly broke off ... and in her eyes, which were so cheerful and bold at the usual time, something like timidity, even like sadness, flashed.
"A snake! ah, she's a snake!" Sanin thought meanwhile, "but what a beautiful snake."
Then they watched the play for some time, then talked again. At last Sanin started talking, even began arguing with her. She secretly rejoiced at this: "if he argues, then he concedes or concedes."
When the play ended, the dexterous lady "asked Sanin to throw a shawl over her and did not move while he wrapped her truly regal shoulders with a soft cloth."
Leaving the box, they suddenly met Donhof, who could hardly contain his rage. Apparently, he believed that he had some rights to this lady, but was immediately unceremoniously rejected by her.
"Do you know him very briefly?" Sanin asked.
- With him? With this boy? He's on my errands. Don't you worry!
- Yes, I'm not worried at all.
Marya Nikolaevna sighed.
- Ah, I know you're not worried. But listen - you know what: you're so sweet, you shouldn't refuse me one last request."
What was the request? Ride out of town. "Then we'll be back, we'll finish the job - and amen!"
How could I not believe when the decision is so close. One last day left.
"- Here's my hand, without a glove, right, businesslike. Take it - and believe its shake. What kind of woman I am, I don't know; but I'm an honest person - and you can do business with me.
Sanin, without really realizing what he was doing, raised that hand to his lips. Marya Nikolaevna quietly received her, and suddenly fell silent - and was silent until the carriage stopped!
She began to leave ... What is it? Was it Sanin's imagination, or did he definitely feel some kind of quick and burning touch on his cheek?
- Till tomorrow! - Marya Nikolaevna whispered to him on the stairs ... "
He returned to his room. He was ashamed to think of Gemma. "But he reassured himself that tomorrow everything would be over forever and he would forever part with this eccentric lady - and forget all this nonsense! .."
The next day Marya Nikolaevna knocked impatiently on his door.
"Well? Are you ready?" a cheerful voice sounded.
He saw her on the threshold of the room. "With a train of a dark blue Amazon on her arm, with a small man's hat on coarsely braided curls, with a veil thrown back over her shoulder, with a defiant smile on her lips, in her eyes, on her whole face ..." She "quickly ran down the stairs." And he obediently ran after her. Gemma would look at her fiancé at that moment.
The horses were already standing in front of the porch.
And then ... then the whole walk, all the impressions, shades of moods in great detail. Everything lives and breathes. And the wind "flowed towards, rustled and whistled in the ears," and the horse reared up, and the consciousness of "free, impetuous movement forward" seized both.
"- Here," she began with a deep, blissful sigh, "this is the only thing worth living for. You managed to do what you wanted, which seemed impossible - well, use it, my soul, to the very edge!" across the throat. “And what a kind person then feels!”
At that time, a beggar old man made his way past them. She called out to
German “Nate, take it” and threw a heavy purse at his feet, and then, fleeing from gratitude, let her horse gallop: “After all, I didn’t do it for him, but for myself. How dare he thank me?”
Then she sent out the groom accompanying them, ordering him to sit in the tavern and wait.
“Well, now we are free birds!” exclaimed Marya Nikolaevna. “Where shall we go?.. Let's go there, to the mountains, to the mountains!”
They raced, jumped over ditches, fences, streams... Sanin looked into her face. “It seems that this soul wants to take possession of everything that it sees, earth, sky, sun and the very air, and it regrets only one thing: there are few dangers - they would have overcome them all!”
And the reader also admires her, no matter what. "Remote forces broke out," "the sedate and well-mannered land, trampled on by its violent revelry, is amazed."
To give the horses a rest, they rode at a walk.
"Am I really going to Paris the day after tomorrow?
- Yes ... really? Sanin picked it up.
- Are you in Frankfurt?
- I'm definitely going to Frankfurt.
- On what - with God! But today is ours…ours…ours!”
She kept him busy for a long time. She made a short stop, took off her hat and, standing next to him, braided long braids: "I need to put my hair in order"; and he "was bewitched", "trembled involuntarily, from head to toe."
Then they went somewhere deep into the forest. "She obviously knew where she was headed..."
Will he be able to return to Frankfurt now?
Finally, through the dark green of the spruce bushes, from under the canopy of a gray rock, a wretched guardhouse looked at him, with a low door in the wicker wall "...
Four hours later they returned to the hotel. And on the same day, "Sanin stood in front of her in his room, as if lost, as lost ...
- Where are you going? she asked him. - To Paris - or to Frankfurt?
“I’m going to where you will be, and I’ll be with you until you drive me away,” he answered in despair and fell into the arms of his sovereign. ” Her look expressed the triumph of victory. eyes".
And everything disappeared. Again before us is a lonely, middle-aged bachelor sorting out old papers in the drawers of his desk.
"He remembered the crappy, tearful, deceitful, pitiful letter he had sent to Gemma, a letter left unanswered..."
Life in Paris, slavery, humiliation, then he was thrown out, "like worn out clothes." And now he could no longer understand why he left Gemma "for a woman whom he did not love at all?" ...
Simply, apparently, the “animal man” who was sitting in it then turned out to be stronger than the spiritual one.
And now, 30 years later, he is back in Frankfurt. But there is neither the house where the confectionery was, nor the street; there was no trace left. New streets, built up with "huge solid houses, elegant villas" ... Here, no one even heard the name Roselli. The name of Kluber was known to the owner of the hotel, but it turns out that the once prosperous capitalist then went bankrupt and died in prison? Who would have thought!
And once, leafing through the local "address-calendar", Sanin suddenly stumbled upon the name of von Donhof. In the "gray-haired gentleman", a retired major, he immediately recognized his former enemy. He heard from a friend that Gemma was in America: she married a merchant and went to New York. Then Donhof went to this acquaintance, a local merchant, and brought the address of Gemma's husband, Mr. Jeremiah Slocom.
“By the way,” Donhof asked, lowering his voice, “what about that Russian lady who, remember, was staying in Wiesbaden then…?”
Alas, it turns out she died a long time ago.
On the same day he sent a letter to New York; asked "to please him with at least the briefest news about how she lives in this new world, where she has retired." He decided to wait for an answer in Frankfurt and lived in a hotel for six weeks, hardly leaving his room. I read "historical works" from morning to evening.
But will Gemma answer? Is she alive?
Letter came! It is as if from another life, from a magical old dream ... The address on the envelope was written in someone else's handwriting ... "He sank in his heart." But when he opened the package, he saw the signature: "Gemma! Tears welled up from his eyes: the mere fact that she signed with her name, without a surname - served him as a pledge of reconciliation, forgiveness!"
He learned that Gemma had been living for the 28th year quite happily "in contentment and abundance." She has four sons and an 18-year-old daughter, a fiancee. Frau Lenore died already in New York, and Pantaleone died before leaving Frankfurt. Emilio fought under the leadership of Garibaldi and died in Sicily.
The letter contained a photograph of the bride's daughter. "Gemma, living Gemma, young as he knew her 30 years ago! The same eyes, the same lips, the same type of whole face. On the back of the photo was:" My daughter, Marianne. "He immediately sent the bride a magnificent pearl a necklace in which a garnet cross was inserted.
Sanin is a wealthy man, "managed to amass a considerable fortune" in 30 years. And this is what he came to in the end: "It is heard that he is selling all his estates and is going to America."
In a letter sent to New York from Frankfurt, Sanin wrote about his "lonely and joyless life."
Why did this happen with all the selfless heroism of his nature? Marya Nikolaevna is to blame? Unlikely. Just at the decisive moment, he could not fully understand the situation and obediently allowed himself to be manipulated, disposed of. Easily became a victim of circumstances, not trying to master them. How often does this happen - with individuals; sometimes with groups of people; sometimes even nationwide. "Don't make yourself an idol..."
And another hidden but important reason. Like a monster with sharp fangs in the dark depths - material and social inequality, the source of many life tragedies. Yes, material inequality, and related relationships of people.
After all, hoping to sell the estate, he did not dare to refuse to accompany the eccentric lady, to be alone for a long time with a beautiful and intelligent predator. He did not dare to provoke her displeasure. Everything would work out, maybe
to another, do not be this dependence. And she, perhaps, so strove to command to a large extent because in childhood "she had seen a lot of slavery and suffered from it."
Yes, what to say. All these are people who have received some education, relatively free. They own noble estates, travel, belong to a privileged minority. The hero didn’t understand something, he didn’t manage to ... But the overwhelming majority were still dominated by a terrible mental underdevelopment, a misunderstanding of more elementary things; and even material and social inequality - much more blatant! There it is just right to recall not the lines from the touching romance, prefaced by the story, but the folk tragic "coachman's song". "The rich chose, but hateful, she will not see happy days." If you are poor, powerless, your beloved will be taken away, even if you are by nature even seven spans in your forehead.
Mankind, laughing and crying, shying forward and then back, slowly, painfully parted with its slave past.

He occupies an honorable place in Russian literature, primarily due to his works of large form. Six well-known novels and several stories give reason to any critic to consider Turgenev a brilliant prose writer. The themes of the works are very diverse: these are works about "superfluous" people, about serfdom, about love. In the late 1860s - early 70s, Turgenev wrote a number of stories representing memories of the distant past. The "first sign" was the story "Asya", which opened a galaxy of heroes - weak-willed people, intellectual nobles who lost their love due to their weak character and indecision.

The story was written in 1872 and published in 1873. "Spring Waters", largely repeating the plot of previous works. Russian landowner Dmitry Sanin, living abroad, recalls his past love for Gemma Roselli, the daughter of the owner of the confectionery, where the hero went to drink lemonade during his walk around Frankfurt. He was then young, 22 years old, squandering the fortune of a distant relative, traveling around Europe.

Dmitry Pavlovich Sanin is a typical Russian nobleman, an educated and intelligent person: "Dmitry combined freshness, health and an infinitely gentle character". In the process of developing the plot of the story, the hero demonstrates nobility several times. And if at the beginning of the development of events Dmitry showed courage and honor, for example, by helping Gemma's younger brother or by challenging a drunken officer who insulted the honor of his beloved girl to a duel, then by the end of the novel he shows surprising weakness of character.

Fate decreed that, late for the stagecoach to Berlin and left without money, Sanin ended up in the family of an Italian confectioner, managed to work behind the counter and even fell in love with the owner's daughter. He was struck by the perfect beauty of the young Italian woman, especially by the ivory complexion. And she also laughed unusually: she had "cute, incessant, quiet laughter with little amusing squeals". But the girl was engaged to a wealthy German, Karl Klüber, a marriage with whom could save the unenviable position of the Roselli family.

And although Frau Lenore convincingly asks Sanin to persuade Gemma to marry a wealthy German, Dmitry himself falls in love with the girl. On the eve of the duel, she gives Sanin "the rose he won the day before". He is shocked, he understands that the girl is not indifferent, and now he is tormented by the knowledge that he can be killed in a duel. His act seems to him stupid and senseless. But faith in the love of a young beauty gives confidence that everything will end well (this is how everything happens).

Love transforms the hero: he confesses in a letter to Gemma that he loves her, and a day later an explanation takes place. True, Gemma's mother, Frau Lenore, takes the news of the new groom unexpectedly for both: she bursts into tears, like a Russian peasant woman over the coffin of her husband or son. After sobbing for an hour, she nevertheless listens to Sanin's arguments that he is ready to sell his small estate in the Tula province in order to invest this money in the development of a confectionery and save the Roselli family from final ruin. Frau Lenore gradually calms down, asks about Russian laws and even asks to bring her from Russia "Astrakhan lambs on a mantilla". She is embarrassed that they are of different faiths: Sanin is a Christian, and Gemma is a Catholic, but the girl, left alone with her beloved, tears off a pomegranate cross from her neck and gives him as a token of love.

Sanin is sure that the stars favor him, because literally the next day he meets his "an old boarding comrade" Ippolit Polozov, who offers to sell the estate to his wife Marya Nikolaevna. Sanin hastily leaves for Wiesbaden, where he meets Polozov's wife, a beautiful young lady. "in diamonds on the arms and around the neck". Sanin was slightly shocked by her cheeky behavior, but decided "to indulge the whims of this rich lady" just to sell the estate for a good price. But left alone, he recalls with bewilderment the vicious appearance of Marya Nikolaevna: her “not that Russian, not that gypsy flowering female body”, "grey predatory eyes", "serpentine braids"; “and he could not get rid of her image, could not help but hear her voice, not remember her speeches, could not help but feel a special smell, thin, fresh and piercing, which emanated from her clothes”.

This woman attracts Sanin with her business acumen: asking about the estate, she skillfully asks questions that reveal her "commercial and administrative ability". The hero feels as if he is in an exam, which he fails miserably. Polozova asks him to stay for two days to make a final decision, and Sanin is captured by this domineering beautiful woman. The hero is delighted with the eccentricity of Marya Nikolaevna: she is not only a business woman, she is a connoisseur of real art, an excellent rider. It is in the forest during a horseback ride that this woman, accustomed to victories over men, finally seduces the young man, leaving him no choice. He follows her to Paris as a weak-willed victim, not knowing that this is not just a whim of a rich and depraved woman, this is a cruel bet that she made with her husband: she assured that she would seduce his school friend, who was about to marry, in just two days .

Many contemporaries saw image of Marya Nikolaevna Polozova "fatal passion" Turgenev himself - the singer Pauline Viardot, who, according to the testimony of the writer's friends, simply bewitched him, which is why he never found happiness, basking all his life near someone else's family hearth (Viardot was married to Louis Viardot, a French writer, critic, theater figure, and was not going to get divorced, because she owed him her solo career).

witchcraft motif there is also in the "Spring Waters". Polozova asks Sanin if he believes in "dry", and the hero agrees that he feels weak-willed. Yes, and the name of the heroine Polozov - from the "snake", that is, a huge snake, which for a Christian is associated with temptation. After the "fall" comes retribution - the hero is left alone. After 30 years, living out the boring days of his life, the hero remembers his first love - Gemma. Once again in Frankfurt, he learns with bitterness that the girl married an American, went with him to New York and is happily married (they have five children).

The story "Spring Waters", like many other works of Turgenev, is about first love, as a rule, unhappy, but it is she who remains the brightest memory on the slope of every person's life.

May 5, 2016

Love stories are always relevant. Especially those created by outstanding masters of the word. Among them, of course, is I.S. Turgenev. "Spring Waters", a summary and analysis of which you will find in the article, is a story that excites readers to this day.

For Dmitry Sanin, a 52-year-old man, a small pomegranate cross meant a lot. He served as a vivid reminder of the past, as well as what he never had.

About 30 years ago, when Dmitry was a young man, he traveled around Europe, spending an inheritance that suddenly came to him. Frankfurt, a German city, was the last place he visited before returning to his homeland. Walking through the streets of this city, Sanin wandered into a confectionery. He wanted to drink lemonade here. However, Dmitry suddenly became a savior for a child who suddenly fainted. The protagonist at first sight fell in love with the girl who was the sister of this boy. It was for her sake that he decided to stay in the city. Sanin met the boy's family, whose members were very grateful to him.

It soon became clear that this girl had a fiancé, and Dmitry, as a family friend and savior, was introduced to him. It turned out that this is a merchant, marriage with whom should save Jenna (that was the name of Sanina's beloved) and her family from financial collapse.

Quarrel with an officer

The main character went for a walk with Jenna, her brother and fiance. After her, they went to some establishment to have a bite to eat. The officers were here, they were drinking. One of them took Jenna's rose, thereby insulting her. The girl's fiancé took her away from the unpleasant neighborhood, while Dmitry approached Jenna's offender and accused him of rudeness. After listening to him, the officer asked Sanin about who he was to this girl. The main character replied that no one, after which he left his business card to the offender.

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Failed duel

The next morning the officer's second came to Sanin's hotel. Dmitry agreed with him about a duel. Sanin, having decided to shoot himself, thought about how suddenly his life had taken a turn. More recently, he traveled carelessly through Europe, and now he can die in an instant. It's not that the protagonist was afraid of death, rather, he did not want to lose his life like this, falling in love. On the night before the duel, Dmitry saw Jenna again, and feelings for her flared up in him even more.

Now it's time for a duel. During it, the rivals decided that no one should lose their lives today. They parted peacefully, shaking hands with each other. Sanin, returning to the hotel, met with the mother of his beloved. She told him that Jenna had changed her mind about marrying a merchant. The mother asked Dmitry to talk to her daughter and convince her to change her mind. The main character promised to do it.

Declaration of love

Speaking with his beloved, Dmitry told her that her mother was very worried, but he asked the girl not to change her mind for some time. After this meeting, Dmitry Sanin decided to confess his feelings to his beloved. He sat down at the table to write her a letter. In a letter, Dmitry Sanin declared his love to the girl. He passed it on through Jenna's brother, who soon brought back the answer: she asks Sanin not to come to her tomorrow. After some time, the girl decided to make the main character a date in the garden early in the morning.

Sanin arrived at the place at the appointed time. He really wanted to know how Jenna reacted to his confession. The girl said that she decided to refuse her fiancé. Dmitry was very happy. He wanted to marry Jenna, but this required him to return to Russia to sell the estate. This is not a quick and easy thing, and Dmitry Sanin really did not want to part with his beloved. And the girl did not want to be alone for a long time.

Question about selling a property

Circumstances were favorable for the lovers. Dmitry met an old friend in Frankfurt, with whom he studied together. It turned out that he favorably married a beautiful and rich woman. Dmitry offered him to buy his estate. His comrade replied that it would be best to turn this question to his wife, to whom they went together.

Meeting a friend's wife

Acquaintance with the wife of a friend is described in detail by Turgenev ("Spring Waters"). A summary in parts suggests a story about this woman. After all, she plays an important role in the work.

The friend's wife turned out to be not only a beautiful woman, but also very smart. Sanin's proposal interested her, as did the protagonist himself. In order to think everything over, she set a deadline of 2 days. Dmitry was very happy that there was an opportunity to solve everything so quickly. At the same time, the main character was somewhat surprised by the increased attention to his personality from the hostess. In addition, he feared that his impoliteness might cause the deal to fall through.

The protagonist spends the entire first day in the company of his friend's wife. In the evening, a woman invites Dmitry to the theater. They talk a lot during the performance and she tells the protagonist that marriage to his comrade is just a front. A woman considers herself completely free and can afford whatever she wants. Her wife is quite satisfied with this situation, since he is satisfied with his rich and well-fed life.

Fatal connection (summary)

Turgenev ("Spring Waters"), of course, was interested in whether the main character could not succumb to temptation. Unfortunately, he failed the test.

The next day, the woman invites Sanin for a horse ride. Dmitry is tormented by doubts, somewhere deep inside he suspects that all this is not without reason, but he is unable to stop all this. On a walk, Dmitry is left alone with his friend's wife. It should be noted that the previous day, which they spent together, somewhat clouded the mind of the protagonist. He had already begun to forget why he had come. The insidious woman, meanwhile, is trying to seduce him, which in the end she succeeds. Sanin forgets his beloved and leaves with his friend's wife for Paris.

And happiness was so close ...

However, this romance with a rich and powerful woman did not lead to anything good. We will not describe its summary. Turgenev ("Spring Waters") was not interested in the details of this connection, but how it influenced the further fate of the protagonist. It was very embarrassing for Dmitry Sanin to return to Jenna. And now, having made a fortune and wise by experience, the main character again finds himself in Frankfurt. He notices that the city has changed over the years. The familiar confectionery is no longer in the old place. Sanin decides to renew old connections. To this end, he seeks help from an officer who once assigned a duel.

Jenna's fate

The officer tells him that Jenna is married. The summary continues with the story about the fate of the heroine. Turgenev ("Spring Waters") was interested in the fate of not only Dmitry, but also Jenna. She left with her husband for America. The officer even helped the protagonist get the address of his former lover. And now, many years later, Dmitry writes a long letter to Jenna, not hoping to get her forgiveness. He just wants to find out how she lives. Waiting for an answer is very painful, because the main character does not know if Jenna will answer him at all. This psychological moment is especially noted by Turgenev ("Spring Waters").

The summary of the chapters continues with the fact that after a while Dmitry Sanin receives a letter from his former lover. She tells him that she is happy with her husband, that she has children. The woman attaches to the letter a photo of her daughter, reminiscent of young Jenna, the one that Dmitry loved so much and left so stupidly. These events complete Turgenev's "Spring Waters". The brief summary of the story, of course, gives only a general idea of ​​​​it. We also invite you to read the analysis of the work. This will help clarify some points, better understand the story that Turgenev created ("Spring Waters").

Analysis of the work

The work we are interested in is distinguished by a specific manner of presentation. The author told the story in such a way that the reader is presented with a story-remembrance. It should be noted that in the later works of Ivan Sergeevich the following type of hero prevails: a mature man with a life full of loneliness.

Dmitry Pavlovich Sanin, the protagonist of the work of interest to us, belongs to this type (his summary is presented above). Turgenev ("Spring Waters") has always been interested in the inner world of man. And this time the main goal of the author was to portray the drama of the protagonist. The work is characterized by an interest in the development of character, which occurs not only under the influence of the environment, but also as a result of the moral quest of the hero himself. Only by studying all this in the aggregate, we can understand the ambiguity of the images created by the author.

Here is an interesting work created by Turgenev - "Spring Waters". The summary (briefly), as you understand, does not convey its artistic value. We only described the plot, conducted a superficial analysis. We hope you enjoy reading this story.

"Spring Waters - 01"

happy years,

Happy Days -

Like spring waters

They raced!

From an old romance

At one o'clock in the morning he returned to his office. He sent out a servant who lit the candles, and throwing himself into an armchair near the fireplace, covered his face with both hands. Never before had he felt so tired, physically and spiritually. He spent the whole evening with pleasant ladies, with educated men; some of the ladies were beautiful, almost all the men were distinguished by intelligence and talents - he himself talked very successfully and even brilliantly ... and, with all that, never before that "taedium vitae", which the Romans already spoke about, that "disgust for life - with such irresistible force did not take possession of him, did not choke him. If he had been a little younger, he would have wept from anguish, from boredom, from irritation: caustic and burning bitterness, like the bitterness of wormwood, filled his whole soul. Something obnoxiously hateful, disgustingly heavy surrounded him on all sides, like a languid autumn night; and he did not know how to get rid of this darkness, this bitterness. There was no hope for sleep: he knew that he would not fall asleep.

He began to think... slowly, languidly and viciously.

He thought about the vanity, the uselessness, the vulgar falsity of everything human. All ages gradually passed before his mind's eye (he himself recently passed the 52nd year) - and not a single one found mercy in front of him. Everywhere is the same eternal transfusion from empty to empty, the same pounding of water, the same half-conscientious, half-conscious self-delusion - no matter what the child amuses, if only he does not cry, and there suddenly, certainly like snow on his head, old age will come - and with it that ever-increasing, corroding and undermining fear of death ... and bang into the abyss! It's good if life plays out like that! And then, perhaps, before the end, like rust on iron, infirmities, suffering ... Not covered with stormy waves, as the poets describe, he imagined the sea of ​​\u200b\u200blife - no; he imagined this sea calmly smooth, motionless and transparent to the darkest bottom; he himself sits in a small, rolling boat - and there, on this dark, muddy bottom, like huge fish, ugly monsters are barely visible: all worldly ailments, illnesses, sorrows, madness, poverty, blindness ... He looks - and this is one thing of monsters stands out from the darkness, rises higher and higher, becomes more and more clear, all disgustingly clear. Another minute - and the boat propped up by him will capsize! But here it again seems to grow dim, it moves away, sinks to the bottom - and it lies there, slightly stirring the pool ... But the appointed day will come - and it will turn the boat over.

He shook his head, jumped up from his chair, walked about the room twice, sat down at the writing-table, and, pulling out one drawer after another, began to rummage through his papers, old letters, mostly from women. He himself did not know why he was doing this, he was not looking for anything - he simply wanted to get rid of the thoughts that tormented him by some external occupation. Having unrolled several letters at random (one of them contained a withered flower tied with a faded ribbon), he just shrugged his shoulders and, glancing at the fireplace, threw them aside, probably intending to burn all this unnecessary rubbish. Hastily thrusting his hands first into one drawer, then into another, he suddenly opened his eyes wide and, slowly pulling out a small octagonal box of an old cut, slowly lifted its lid. In the box, under a double layer of yellowed cotton paper, was a small pomegranate cross.

For a few moments he looked at this cross with bewilderment - and suddenly he cried out weakly ... Either regret or joy portrayed his features. Such an expression appears on the face of a person when he has to suddenly meet another person whom he has long lost sight of, whom he once loved dearly and who now suddenly appears before his eyes, all the same - and all changed over the years. He got up and, returning to the fireplace, sat down again in an armchair - and again covered his face with his hands ... "Why today? just today?" - he thought, and he remembered a lot that had long passed ...

Here's what he remembered...

But first you need to say his name, patronymic and surname. His name was Sanin, Dmitry Pavlovich.

Here's what he remembered:

It was the summer of 1840. Sanin was 22 years old and was in Frankfurt, on his way back from Italy to Russia. He was a man with a small fortune, but independent, almost without a family. After the death of a distant relative, he had several thousand rubles - and he decided to live them abroad, before entering the service, before the final laying on himself of that official clamp, without which a secure existence became unthinkable for him. Sanin carried out his intention exactly and arranged it so skilfully that on the day of his arrival in Frankfurt he had just enough money to get to Petersburg. In 1840 there were very few railroads; Gentlemen tourists traveled in stagecoaches. Sanin took a seat in the Beywagen; but the stagecoach departed only at 11 o'clock in the evening. There was plenty of time left. Fortunately, the weather was fine and Sanin, having had lunch at the then famous White Swan Hotel, went to wander around the city. He went to see Dannecker's Ariadne, which he did not like much, visited Goethe's house, from whose works he, however, read one "Werther" - and then in a French translation; walked along the banks of the Main, got bored, as a respectable traveler should; Finally, at six o'clock in the evening, tired, with dusty feet, I found myself in one of the most insignificant streets of Frankfurt. He could not forget this street for a long time. On one of her few houses, he saw a sign: "Italian confectionery Giovanni Roselli" declared itself to passers-by. Sanin went in to drink a glass of lemonade; but in the first room, where, behind a modest counter, on the shelves of a painted cabinet, reminiscent of a pharmacy, there were several bottles with gold labels and the same number of glass jars with crackers, chocolate cakes and candies, there was not a soul in this room; only a gray cat squinted and purred, moving its paws, on a high wicker chair near the window, and, brightly glowing in the slanting beam of the evening sun, a large ball of red wool lay on the floor next to an overturned basket of carved wood. A vague noise was heard in the next room. Sanin stood for a moment and, letting the bell on the door ring to the end, said, raising his voice: "Is there anyone here?" At the same instant the door from the adjoining room opened, and Sanin was forced to be astonished.

A girl of about nineteen impetuously ran into the candy store, with dark curls scattered over her bare shoulders, with outstretched bare arms, and, seeing Sanin, immediately rushed to him, grabbed his arm and dragged him along, saying in a breathless voice: "Hurry, hurry, here, save me!" Not out of unwillingness to obey, but simply out of excess of amazement, Sanin did not immediately follow the girl - and, as it were, rested on the spot: he had never seen such a beauty in his life. She turned to him and with such desperation in her voice, in her eyes, in the movement of her clenched hand convulsively raised to her pale cheek, she said: "Go ahead, go!" - that he immediately rushed after her through the open door.

In the room where he ran after the girl, on an old-fashioned horsehair sofa, all white - white with yellowish tints, like wax or like ancient marble, lay a boy of fourteen years old, strikingly like a girl, obviously her brother. His eyes were closed, the shadow of thick black hair fell like a stain on the petrified forehead, on motionless thin eyebrows; clenched teeth showed from under blue lips. He didn't seem to be breathing; one hand dropped to the floor, the other he threw over his head. The boy was dressed and buttoned up; a tight tie tightened around his neck.

The girl rushed towards him with a cry.

He died, he died! she cried, “just now he was sitting here talking to me—and suddenly he fell down and became motionless... My God! can't you help? And no mom! Pantaleone, Pantaleone, what's the doctor? she added suddenly in Italian. "Did you see a doctor?"

Signora, I didn’t go, I sent Louise,” a hoarse voice sounded from outside the door, “and a little old man in a purple tailcoat with black buttons, a high white tie, nanke short trousers and blue woolen stockings entered the room, hobbled on crooked legs. His tiny face completely disappeared under a whole mass of gray, iron-colored hair. From all sides, rising steeply upwards and falling back in disheveled braids, they gave the old man's figure a resemblance to a crested hen - the resemblance is all the more striking because under their dark gray mass one could only make out that a pointed nose and round yellow eyes.

Louise quickly runs away, but I can’t run, ”the old man continued in Italian, alternately raising his flat, arthritic legs, shod in high shoes with bows,“ but I brought water.

With his dry, gnarled fingers he squeezed the long neck of the bottle.

But Emil is dead! the girl exclaimed, and held out her hands to Sanin. “Oh my lord, oh mein Herr! Can't you help?

It is necessary to let him bleed - this is a blow, ”the old man who bore the name Pantaleone noted.

Although Sanin had not the slightest idea of ​​medicine, he knew one thing for sure: fourteen-year-old boys don't get strokes.

It's a swoon, not a stroke," he said, turning to Pantaleone. "Do you have any brushes?

The old man raised his face.

Brushes, brushes,' Sanin repeated in German and French. 'Brushes,' he added, pretending to be cleaning his dress.

The old man finally understood him.

Ah, brushes! Spazzette! How not to be brushes!

Let's get them here; we will take off his coat - and begin to rub it.

Okay... Venone! Why don't you pour water on your head?

No... after; go now quickly for the brushes.

Pantaleone put the bottle on the floor, ran out, and immediately returned with two brushes, one head brush and one clothes brush. The curly-haired poodle accompanied him, and, vigorously wagging his tail, looked around with curiosity at the old man, the girl, and even Sanin—as if wanting to know what all this anxiety meant?

Sanin deftly removed the boy's coat from the lying boy, unbuttoned the collar, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and, armed with a brush, began rubbing his chest and arms with all his might. Pantaleone just as zealously rubbed another - head brush - on his boots and pantaloons. The girl threw herself on her knees near the sofa and, grabbing her head with both hands, without blinking a single eyelid, she dug into her brother's face.

Sanin rubbed himself, and he himself looked askance at her. My God! what a beauty it was!

Her nose was somewhat large, but a beautiful, aquiline fret, her upper lip was slightly shaded by fluff; on the other hand, the complexion, even and matte, ivory or milky amber, wavy gloss of hair, like Allori's Judith in the Palazzo Pitti - and especially the eyes, dark gray, with a black border around the pupils, magnificent, triumphant eyes - even now, when fright and grief darkened their brilliance ... Sanin involuntarily remembered the wonderful land from which he returned ... Yes, he had never seen anything like it in Italy! The girl breathed infrequently and irregularly; it seemed that every time she waited, would her brother begin to breathe?

Sanin went on rubbing it; but he was looking at more than one girl. The original figure of Pantaleone also attracted his attention. The old man was completely weak and out of breath; at each blow with the brush, he jumped up and groaned shrillly, and huge tufts of hair, moistened with sweat, swayed heavily from side to side, like the roots of a large plant washed by water.

At least take off his boots, Sanin wanted to tell him...

The poodle, probably excited by the unusualness of everything that was happening, suddenly fell on its front paws and began to bark.

Tartaglia - canaglia! the old man hissed at him...

But in that moment, the girl's face changed. Her eyebrows rose, her eyes became even larger and shone with joy...

Sanin looked round... A flush came out over the young man's face; eyelids fluttered... nostrils quivered. He sucked in air through his still clenched teeth, sighed...

Emil! cried the girl. "Emilio mio!"

Large black eyes slowly opened. They were still staring blankly, but were already smiling—weakly; the same faint smile descended on the pale lips. Then he moved his dangling hand - and with a flourish he laid it on his chest.

Emilio! - repeated the girl and got up. The expression on her face was so strong and bright that it seemed that now either tears would splash from her, or laughter would break out.

Emil! What? Emil! - was heard outside the door - and a neatly dressed lady with silver-gray hair and a swarthy face entered the room with nimble steps. An older man followed her; the maid's head flickered behind him.

The girl ran towards them.

He is saved, mother, he is alive! she exclaimed, convulsively embracing the lady who had entered.

Yes, what is it? - she repeated. - I'm returning ... and suddenly I meet the doctor and Louise ...

The girl began to tell what had happened, and the doctor went up to the patient, who more and more came to his senses and continued to smile: he seemed to be beginning to be ashamed of the anxiety he had caused.

You, I see, rubbed it with brushes, - the doctor turned to Sanin and Pantaleone, - and did a great job ... A very good idea ... but now we'll see what other means ... - He felt the young man's pulse. - Hm! Show me your tongue!

The lady leaned towards him carefully. He smiled even more openly. looked up at her and blushed...

It occurred to Sanin that he was becoming superfluous; he went to the bakery. But before he had time to take hold of the handle of the street door, the girl again appeared in front of him and stopped him.

You are leaving,” she began, looking affectionately into his face, “I am not holding you back, but you must certainly come to us tonight, we are so obliged to you - you may have saved your brother: we want to thank you - mother wants. You must tell us who you are, you must rejoice with us...

But I'm leaving for Berlin today,” Sanin began to hint.

You still have time, - the girl objected with liveliness. - Come to us in an hour for a cup of chocolate. Do you promise? And I need to go back to him! Will you come?

What was Sanin to do?

I'll come, he replied.

Beauty quickly shook hands with him, fluttered out - and he found himself on the street.

When Sanin returned an hour and a half later to Roselli's confectionery, he was received there as if he were one of his own. Emilio was sitting on the same sofa on which he was rubbed; the doctor prescribed him medicine and recommended "great caution in testing the sensations," as the subject has a nervous temperament and is prone to heart disease. He had fainted before; but never was the fit so long and strong. However, the doctor declared that all danger had passed. Emil was dressed, as befits a convalescent, in a spacious dressing gown; his mother wrapped a blue woolen kerchief around his neck; but he looked cheerful, almost festive; and everything around had a festive look. In front of the sofa, on a round table covered with a clean tablecloth, filled with fragrant chocolate, surrounded by cups, decanters of syrup, biscuits and rolls, even flowers, a huge porcelain coffee pot, six thin wax candles, burned in two ancient silver chandeliers; on one side of the sofa, the Voltaire chair opened its soft embrace - and Sanin was seated precisely in this chair. All the inhabitants of the candy store, with whom he happened to meet that day, were present, not excluding the poodle Tartaglia and the cat; everyone seemed unspeakably happy; the poodle even sneezed with pleasure; one cat, as before, continued to squint and squint. Sanin was forced to explain who he was from, and where, and what his name was; when he said that he was Russian, both ladies were a little surprised and even gasped - and immediately, with one voice, announced that he spoke excellent German; but that if it is more convenient for him to express himself in French, then he can use this language too - since they both understand it well and express themselves in it. Sanin immediately took advantage of this offer. "Sanin! Sanin!" The ladies did not expect that the Russian surname could be so easily pronounced. His name: "Dimitri" - also quite liked. The older lady remarked that in her youth she had heard an excellent opera: Demetrio e Polibio, but that Dimitri was much better than Demetrio. Sanin talked in this manner for about an hour. For their part, the ladies dedicated him to all the details of their own lives. The mother spoke more, the lady with gray hair. Sanin learned from her that her name was Leonora Roselli; that she was left a widow after her husband, Giovanni Battista Roselli, who twenty-five years ago settled in Frankfurt as a confectioner; that Giovanni Battista was from Vicenza, and a very good man, though a little irascible and arrogant, and a Republican, besides! At these words, Madame Roselli pointed to his portrait, painted in oils and hanging over the sofa. It must be assumed that the painter - "also a republican!", as Madame Roselli noted with a sigh - was not quite able to catch the resemblance, for in the portrait the late Giovanni Battista was some kind of gloomy and stern brigante - like Rinaldo Rinaldini! Madame Roselli herself was a native of "the ancient and beautiful city of Parma, where there is such a wonderful dome, painted by the immortal Correggio!" But from a long stay in Germany, she was almost completely numb. Then she added, sadly shaking her head, that all she had left was this daughter and this son (she pointed to them in turn with her finger); that the daughter's name is Gemma, and the son's name is Emilius; that both of them are very good and obedient children - especially Emilio ... ("Am I not obedient?" - the daughter put in here; "Oh, you are also a republican!" - answered the mother); that things, of course, are now going worse than under her husband, who was a great master in the confectionery department ... ("Un grand" uomo! "Pantaleone picked up with a stern look); but, thank God, still can!

Gemma listened to her mother - and then she laughed, then she sighed, then she stroked her shoulder, then shook her finger at her, then looked at Sanin; Finally, she got up, hugged and kissed her mother on the neck - in the "darling", which made her laugh a lot and even squeaked. Pantaleone was also introduced to Sanin. It turned out that he had once been an opera singer, for baritone parts, but had long since ceased his theatrical studies and was in the Roselli family something between a house friend and a servant. Despite a very long stay in Germany, he learned the German language poorly and only knew how to swear in it, mercilessly distorting even swear words. "Ferroflucto spiccebubio!" - he called almost every / v 101 German. He spoke Italian perfectly, for he was from Sinigaglia, where "lingua toscana in bocca romana" is heard. Emilio seemed to be basking and indulging in the pleasant sensations of a man who has just escaped danger or is recovering; and besides, it could be seen from everything that his family spoiled him. He shyly thanked Sanin, but he ate more of the syrup and sweets. Sanin was forced to drink two large cups of excellent chocolate and eat a wonderful amount of biscuits: he had just swallowed one, and Gemma was already offering him another - and there was no way to refuse! He soon felt at home: time flew by with incredible speed. He had to tell a lot - about Russia in general, about the Russian climate, about Russian society, about the Russian peasant, and especially about the Cossacks; about the war of the twelfth year, about Peter the Great, about the Kremlin, and about Russian songs, and about bells. Both ladies had a very feeble conception of our vast and distant homeland; Ms. Roselli, or, as she was more often called, Frau Lenore, even plunged Sanin into amazement with the question: does the famous ice house built in the last century still exist in St. Petersburg, about which she had recently read such a curious article in one of her books? late husband: "Bellezze delle arti"? - And in response to Sanin's exclamation: "Do you really believe that summer never happens in Russia ?!" - Frau Lenore objected that she still imagined Russia like this: eternal snow, everyone walks in fur coats and all the military - but the hospitality is extraordinary and all the peasants are very obedient! Sanin tried to give her and her daughter more accurate information. When the speech touched on Russian music, he was immediately asked to sing some Russian aria and pointed to a tiny piano in the room, with black keys instead of white and white instead of black. He obeyed without further circumlocution and, accompanying himself with two fingers of the right and three (big, middle and little fingers) of the left, sang in a thin nasal tenor, first "Sarafan", then "Along Pavement Street". The ladies praised his voice and music, but more admired the softness and sonority of the Russian language and demanded a translation of the text. Sanin fulfilled their desire, but since the words "Sarafan" and especially "On the pavement street" (sur une rue pavee une jeune fille allait a l "eau - he conveyed the meaning of the original in this way) - could not inspire his listeners with a high concept of Russian poetry, then he first recited, then translated, then sang Pushkin's: "I remember a wonderful moment", set to music by Glinka, whose minor verses he slightly distorted. Then the ladies were delighted - Frau Lenore even discovered in Russian a surprising similarity with Italian. " Instant" - "O, vieni!", "with me" - "siam noi", etc. Even the names: Pushkin (she pronounced: Poussekin) and Glinka sounded something familiar to her. Sanin, in turn, asked the ladies that to sing: they also did not begin to repair. Frau Lenore sat down at the piano and, together with Gemma, sang a few duettinos and stornellos. Mother had once had a good contralto; her daughter's voice was somewhat weak, but pleasant.

But not Gemma's voice - Sanin admired her herself. He sat somewhat behind and to one side and thought to himself that no palm tree - even in the verses of Benediktov, then a fashionable poet - was not able to compete with the graceful harmony of her figure. When she, on sensitive notes, raised her eyes upwards, it seemed to him that there is no sky that would not open before such a gaze. Even old Pantaleone, who, leaning his shoulder against the lintel of the door, and thrusting his chin and mouth into a loose necktie, listened importantly, with the air of a connoisseur—even he admired the beautiful girl’s face and marveled at it—and, it seems, he must have gotten used to it! Having finished her duetinos with her daughter, Frau Lenore noticed that Emilio had an excellent voice, real silver, but that he had now entered the age when his voice was changing (he really spoke in some kind of incessantly breaking bass), and that for this reason he was forbidden sing; and that Pantaleone could, in honor of the guest, shake the old days! Pantaleone immediately took on a displeased look, frowned, ruffled his hair and announced that he had given up all this a long time ago, although he really could stand up for himself in his youth - and in general he belonged to that great era when there were real, classical singers - not like the present squeakers! - and a real school of singing; that he, Pantaleone Chippatola of Varese, was once presented with a laurel wreath in Modena, and even on this occasion, several white doves were released in the theater; that, by the way, one Russian prince Tarbussky - "il principe Tarbusski" - with whom he was on the most friendly terms, constantly called him to Russia at dinner, promised him mountains of gold, mountains! .. but that he did not want to part with Italy, with the country of Dante - il paese del Dante! - Then, of course, there were ... unfortunate circumstances, he himself was imprudent ... Here the old man interrupted himself, sighed deeply twice, looked down - and again spoke about the classical era of singing, about the famous tenor Garcia, for whom he had reverence, boundless respect.

"Here was a man!" he exclaimed. "Never the great Garcia - "il gran Garsia" - humiliated himself to sing like the tenors of today - tenoracci - in falsetto: all chest, chest, voce di petto, si" The old man tapped hard with a small withered fist on his own frill! "And what an actor! Volcano, signopi miei, volcano, un Vesuvio! I had the honor and happiness to sing with him in the opera dell" illustrissimo maestro Rossini - in "Otello"! Garcia was Othello - I was Iago - and when he said that phrase...

Here Panteleon took a stand and sang in a trembling and hoarse, but still pathetic voice:

L "i...ra da ver...so da ver..so il fato

Io piu no... no... non temero

The theater trembled, signori miei but I did not lag behind; and I follow him too:

L "i...ra da ver...so ola ver...so il fato

Temer piu non dovro!

And suddenly he is like lightning, like a tiger:

Morro!.. ma vendicato...

Or another thing, when he sang... when he sang this famous aria from "Matrimonio segreto": Pria che srinti... Here he is, il gran Garsia, after the words: I cavalli di galoppo - did in words: Senza rosa sassera - listen how amazing it is, cam "e stupendo! Here he did - the Old man began some unusual grace - and on the tenth note he stumbled, coughed and, waving his hand, turned away and muttered: "Why are you torturing me?" Gemma immediately but she jumped up from her chair and, loudly clapping her hands, shouting: "Bravo! .. bravo!" - ran up to the poor retired Iago and gently patted him on the shoulders with both hands. Only Emil laughed mercilessly. Cet age est sans pitie - this age knows no pity,” said La Fontaine.

Sanin tried to console the aged singer and spoke to him in Italian (he picked it up a little during his last trip) - he spoke about "paese del Dante, dove il si suona". This phrase, together with "Lasciate ogni speranza," constituted the entire poetic Italian baggage of the young tourist; but Pantaleone did not succumb to his fawning. Deeper than ever, burying his chin in his tie and the sullen ray of his eye, he again became like a bird, and even an angry one - a crow, or something, or a kite. Then Emil, instantly and easily blushing, as usually happens with spoiled children, turned to his sister and told her that if she wanted to entertain a guest, then she could not think of anything better than to read to him one of Maltz's comedies, which she so reads well. Gemma laughed, hit her brother on the arm, exclaimed that he "always thinks of such a thing!" However, she immediately went to her room and, returning from there with a small book in her hand, sat down at the table in front of the lamp, looked around, raised her finger - "be silent, they say!" - a purely Italian gesture - and began to read.

Maltz was a Frankfurt writer of the 1930s, who, in his short and lightly sketched comedies written in the local dialect, brought out - with amusing and glib, although not deep humor - local, Frankfurt types. It turned out that Gemma read just fine - quite like an actor. She set off every face and perfectly maintained his character, using her facial expressions, inherited by her along with Italian blood; sparing neither her tender voice nor her beautiful face, when it was necessary to imagine either an old woman who had lost her mind or a stupid burgomaster, she made the most hilarious grimaces, narrowed her eyes, wrinkled her nose, burred, squeaked ... She herself while reading she did not laugh; but when the listeners (with the exception, it is true, of Pantaleone: he immediately withdrew indignantly as soon as the talk of yoze! ferroflucto Tedesko came up), when the listeners interrupted her with an outburst of friendly laughter, she, putting the book on her knees, laughed loudly herself, throwing her head back back, and her black curls jumped in soft rings around her neck and over her trembling shoulders. The laughter ceased - she immediately picked up the book and, again giving her features the proper shape, seriously began to read. Sanin could not be quite astonished at her; he was especially struck by the miracle by which such an ideally beautiful face suddenly assumed such a comical, sometimes almost trivial expression? Less satisfactorily Gemma read the roles of young girls - the so-called "jeunes premieres"; especially love scenes did not work out for her; she herself felt this and therefore gave them a slight shade of mockery, as if she did not believe all these enthusiastic oaths and lofty speeches, from which, however, the author himself refrained - as far as possible.

Sanin did not notice how the evening flew by, and only then remembered the upcoming trip, when the passes struck ten o'clock. He jumped up from his chair as if stung.

What's wrong with you? asked Frau Lenore.

Yes, I was supposed to leave for Berlin today - and I already took a place in a stagecoach!

When does the stagecoach leave?

At half past ten!

Well, then you won’t have time, - Gemma noticed, - stay ... I’ll read more.

Did you pay all the money or just gave a deposit? asked Frau Lenore.

All! cried Sanin with a sad grimace.

Gemma looked at him, narrowing her eyes, and laughed, while her mother scolded her.

The young man wasted his money, and you're laughing!

Nothing, - answered Gemma, - this will not ruin him, and we will try to console him. Do you want lemonade?

Sanin drank a glass of lemonade, Gemma again took up Maltz - and everything again went like clockwork.

The clock struck twelve. Sanin began to say goodbye.

You must now stay in Frankfurt for a few days, Gemma told him, where are you in a hurry? It won't be merrier in another city." She paused. "Really, it won't," she added, and smiled. Sanin did not answer and thought that, because of the emptiness of his purse, he would have to remain in Frankfurt until an answer came from a Berlin friend to whom he was going to apply for money.

Stay, stay, - said Frau Lenore. - We will introduce you to Gemma's fiancé, Mr. Karl Klüber. He couldn't come today, because he is very busy in his shop... You must have seen the biggest cloth and silk shop in Zeil? Well, he's in charge there. But he will be very glad to introduce himself to you.

Sanin was slightly taken aback by this news - God knows why. "Lucky this groom!" flashed through his mind. He looked at Gemma, and he thought he saw the mocking look in her eyes.

He began to bow.

Till tomorrow? Isn't it until tomorrow? asked Frau Lenore.

Till tomorrow! said Gemma, not in an interrogative, but in an affirmative tone, as if it could not be otherwise.

Till tomorrow! Sanin replied.

Emil, Pantaleone and the poodle Tartaglia accompanied him to the corner of the street. Pantaleone could not resist expressing his displeasure at Jemmin's reading.

Shame on her! Grimacing, squeaking - una carricatura! She should represent Merope or Clytemnestra - something great, tragic, and she is mimicking some nasty German woman! That way I can too... Merz, kertz, mertz," he added in a hoarse voice, thrusting his face forward and spreading his fingers. Tartaglia barked at him, and Emil burst out laughing. The old man turned sharply back.

Sanin returned to the White Swan Hotel (he left his things there in the common room) in a rather vague mood of spirit. All these German-French-Italian conversations rang in his ears.

Bride! - he whispered, already lying in bed in the modest room allotted to him. - Yes, and a beauty! But why did I stay?

However, the next day he sent a letter to a Berlin friend.

He had not yet had time to get dressed when the waiter reported to him about the arrival of two gentlemen. One of them turned out to be Emil; the other, a prominent and tall young man with a most handsome face, was Herr Karl Klüber, the bridegroom of the beautiful Gemma.

It must be supposed that at that time in the whole of Frankfurt there was not in any store such a polite, decent, important, amiable chief commie as Mr. Klüber was. The impeccability of his dress was on the same level with the dignity of his bearing, with elegance - a little prim and restrained, it is true, in the English way (he spent two years in England), - but still the captivating elegance of his manner! At first glance, it became clear that this handsome, somewhat strict, well-mannered and excellently washed young man was accustomed to obey the higher and command the lower, and that behind the counter of his store he inevitably had to inspire respect for the customers themselves! There could not be the slightest doubt about his supernatural honesty: one had only to look at his tightly starched collars! And his voice turned out to be what one would expect: thick and self-confidently juicy, but not too loud, with some even gentleness in timbre. In such a voice it is especially convenient to give orders to subordinate commies: "Show me, they say, that thing of ponce Lyon velvet!" - or: "Give a chair to this lady!"

Mr. Klüber began by introducing himself, bowing his waist so nobly, moving his legs together so pleasantly, and so courteously touching his heel with his heel, that everyone must have felt: "This man's linen and spiritual qualities are of the first class!" The decoration of his bare right hand (in his left, clad in a Swedish glove, he held a mirror polished hat, at the bottom of which lay another glove) - the decoration of this right hand, which he modestly but firmly held out to Sanin, exceeded all probability: every nail was perfection of its kind! Then he said, in the best German, that he wished to express his respect and his gratitude to the foreigner who had rendered such an important service to his future relative, the brother of his fiancee; at the same time, he moved his left hand, which held the hat, in the direction of Emil, who seemed to be ashamed and, turning to the window, put his finger in his mouth. Herr Klüber added that he would consider himself lucky if, for his part, he was in a position to do something pleasing to Mr. Foreigner. Sanin answered, not without some difficulty, also in German, that he was very glad... that his service was unimportant... and asked his guests to sit down. Herr Kluber thanked him - and, instantly spreading the tails of his tailcoat, sank into a chair - but he sank down so easily and held on to it so unsteadily that it was impossible not to understand: "This man sat down out of politeness - and now he will fly up again!" And indeed, he immediately fluttered up and, bashfully stepping his feet twice, as if dancing, announced that, unfortunately, he could not stay longer, because he was in a hurry to his store - business comes first! - but since tomorrow is Sunday, he, with the consent of Frau Lenore and Fraulein Gemma, arranged a pleasure walk in Soden, to which he has the honor to invite Mr. Foreigner, and harbors the hope that he will not refuse to decorate it with his presence. Sanin did not refuse to adorn it - and Herr Klüber introduced himself a second time and left, pleasantly flickering with his delicate pea-colored trousers and just as pleasantly creaking with the soles of the newest boots.

Emil, who continued to face the window even after Sanin's invitation to "sit down," made a circle to the left as soon as his future relative came out, and, shrinking like a child and blushing, asked Sanin if he could stay a little longer with him. "I feel much better today," he added, "but the doctor forbade me to work."

Stay! You don’t bother me in the least,” exclaimed Sanin immediately, who, like every true Russian, was glad to seize on the first excuse that came across, so as not to be forced to do something himself.

Emil thanked him - and in a very short time he was completely at home with him - and with his apartment; examined his things, asked almost about each of them: where did he buy it and what is its value? He helped him shave, and noticed that he was in vain not letting go of his mustache; finally told him many details about his mother, about his sister, about Pantaleon, even about the poodle Tartaglia, about their whole life and being. Every semblance of timidity disappeared in Emil; he suddenly felt an extraordinary attraction to Sanin - and not at all because he had saved his life the day before, but because he was such a sympathetic person! He was not slow to entrust Sanin with all his secrets. With particular fervor he insisted that his mother certainly wanted to make a merchant out of him - and he knows, knows for sure that he was born an artist, musician, singer; that the theater is his real vocation; that even Pantaleone encourages him, but that Mr. Kluber supports his mother, on whom he has a great influence; that the very idea of ​​making a huckster out of him belongs to Mr. Klüber himself, according to whose concepts nothing in the world can compare with the title of a merchant! Selling cloth and velvet and fooling the public, taking from it "Narrep-, oder Russen-Preise" (stupid, or Russian prices) - that's his ideal!

Well! now you have to go to us! he exclaimed as soon as Sanin finished his toilette and wrote a letter to Berlin.

It's still early now," Sanin remarked.

It doesn't mean anything," said Emil, caressing him. "Let's go!" We will wrap it up at the post office, and from there to us. Gemma will be so happy for you! You will have breakfast with us ... You can tell your mother something about me, about my career ...

Well, let's go, - said Sanin, and they set off.

Gemma was really pleased with him, and Frau Lenore greeted him very friendly: it was clear that he had made a good impression on both of them the day before. Emil ran to order breakfast, after whispering in Sanin's ear: "Don't forget!"

I won't forget," answered Sanin. Frau Lenore was not quite well: she suffered from a migraine - and, reclining in an armchair, she tried not to move. Gemma wore a wide yellow blouse, tied with a black leather belt; she, too, seemed tired and slightly pale; darkish circles set off her eyes, but their brilliance was not diminished by this, and the pallor gave something mysterious and sweet to the classically stern features of her face. Sanina was especially struck that day by the graceful beauty of her hands; when she straightened and supported her dark, glossy curls with them, his gaze could not tear himself away from her fingers, flexible and long and separated friend from friend, like those of Rafael Fornarina.

It was very hot outside; after breakfast Sanin wanted to leave, but it was noticed to him that on such a day it would be best not to move, and he agreed; he stayed. In the back room, in which he sat with his mistresses, coolness reigned; the windows overlooked a small garden overgrown with acacias. Numerous bees, wasps and bumblebees buzzed together and pathetically in their dense branches, showered with golden flowers; through the half-closed shutters and the lowered curtains this incessant sound penetrated into the room: it spoke of the heat poured into the outside air, and the coolness of the closed and comfortable dwelling became all the sweeter.

Sanin talked a lot, like yesterday, but not about Russia and not about Russian life. Wishing to please his young friend, who had been sent off immediately after breakfast to M. Klüber's to practice bookkeeping, he turned on the comparative advantages and disadvantages of art and commerce. He was not surprised that Frau Lenore took the side of commerce - he expected it; but Gemma shared her opinion.

If you are an artist and especially a singer, - she asserted, energetically moving her hand from top to bottom, - be sure to come first! The second is no good; and who knows if you can reach the first place?

Pantaleone, who also took part in the conversation (he, as a long-time servant and old man, was even allowed to sit on a chair in the presence of his masters; Italians are generally not strict about etiquette) - Pantaleone, of course, stood up for art. To tell the truth, his arguments were rather weak: he talked more and more about the fact that you must first of all have d "un certo estro d" ispirazione - a kind of inspiration! Frau Lenore remarked to him that he, of course, possessed this "estro", but meanwhile ...

I had enemies,” Pantaleone remarked gloomily.

But why do you know (Italians, as you know, easily "poke") that Emil will not have enemies, even if this "estro" is revealed in him?

Well, make a merchant out of him, - Pantaleone said with annoyance, - but Giovan Battista would not have done that, although he himself was a confectioner!

Giovan Battista, my husband, was a prudent man - and if he was fond of in his youth ...

But already the old man did not want to hear anything - and went away, saying again with reproach:

BUT! Giovan Battista!...

Gemma exclaimed that if Emil felt himself a patriot and wished to devote all his strength to the liberation of Italy, then, of course, for such a high and sacred cause one could sacrifice a secure future - but not for the theater! Here Frau Lenore became agitated and began to beg her daughter not to confuse, at least her brother, and to be content with the fact that she herself was such a desperate republican! Having uttered these words, Frau Lenore groaned and began to complain about her head, which was "ready to burst." (Frau Lenore, out of respect for her guest, spoke French to her daughter.)

Gemma immediately began courting her, blew softly on her forehead, first wetting it with cologne, softly kissed her cheeks, laid her head in the pillows, forbade her to speak - and kissed her again. Then, turning to Sanin, she began to tell him in a half-joking, half-touched tone what an excellent mother she had and what a beauty she was! "What am I saying: she was! and now she is a charm. Look, look; what eyes she has!"

Gemma instantly took a white handkerchief from her pocket, covered her mother's face with it, and slowly lowering the border from top to bottom, gradually exposed Frau Lenore's forehead, eyebrows and eyes; she waited and asked to open them. She obeyed, Gemma cried out in admiration (Frau Lenore's eyes were really very beautiful) - and quickly slipping her handkerchief over the lower, less correct part of her mother's face, again rushed to kiss her. Frau Lenore laughed, and turned slightly away, and with feigned effort pushed her daughter aside. She also pretended to fight with her mother, and caressed her - but not like a cat, not in a French manner, but with that Italian grace, in which the presence of strength is always felt. Finally, Frau Lenore announced that she was tired ... Then Gemma immediately advised her to fall asleep a little, right there, on the armchair, and the Russian gentleman and I - "avec le mosieur russe" - will be so quiet, so quiet ... like little mice - "comme des pettites souris". Frau Lenore smiled back at her, closed her eyes and, after sighing a little, dozed off. Gemma sank nimbly down on the bench beside her and did not move any more, only occasionally raising the finger of one hand to her lips - with the other she supported the pillow behind her mother's head - and hissed a little, looking askance at Sanin when he allowed himself the slightest movement. In the end, he, too, seemed to freeze and sit motionless, as if enchanted, and with all the strength of his soul admire the picture that this semi-dark room presented to him, where here and there fresh, lush roses set in green ancient glasses glowed with bright shocks, and this a sleeping woman with modestly folded hands and a kindly tired face, bordered by the snowy whiteness of the pillow, and this young, sensitively alert and also kind, intelligent, pure and inexpressibly beautiful creature with such deep black, shadow-filled and yet luminous eyes ... What is it? Dream? Story? And how is he here?

The bell jingled above the outer door. A young peasant lad in a fur hat and red waistcoat entered the candy store from the street. From the very morning, not a single buyer looked into it ... "That's how we trade!" Frau Lenore remarked to Sanina with a sigh during breakfast. She continued to doze; Gemma was afraid to take her hand from the pillow and whispered to Sanin: "Go, you bargain for me!" Sanin at once went out on tiptoe into the confectionery shop. The guy needed a quarter pound of mints.

How much from him? Sanin asked in a whisper through Gemma's door.

Six cruisers! - she answered in the same whisper. Sanin weighed out a quarter of a pound, found a piece of paper, made a horn out of it, wrapped up the cakes, spilled them, wrapped them up again, spilled them again, gave them away, finally got the money ... The guy looked at him in amazement, shifting his cap on his stomach, and in the next room, Gemma, holding her mouth shut, was dying of laughter. Before this buyer had time to leave, another appeared, then a third ... "Apparently, my hand is light!" Sanin thought. The second asked for a glass of orchada, the third for half a pound of candy. Sanin satisfied them, clattering his spoons with passion, moving the saucers around, and dashing his fingers into the boxes and jars. When calculating, it turned out that he sold the orshad cheaply, and took two superfluous cruisers for the sweets. Gemma did not stop laughing in secret, and Sanin himself felt an extraordinary gaiety, a kind of especially happy state of mind. It seemed as if he would have been standing behind the counter for a century and selling sweets and orchad, while that sweet creature looks at him from behind the door with friendly-mocking eyes, and the summer sun, breaking through the powerful foliage of chestnut trees growing in front of the windows, fills the whole room. greenish gold of midday rays, midday shadows of it, and the heart basks in sweet languor of laziness, carelessness and youth - original youth!

The fourth visitor demanded a cup of coffee: I had to turn to Pantaleone (Emil still had not returned from Mr. Klüber's shop). Sanin sat down next to Gemma again. Frau Lenore continued to doze, to the great delight of her daughter.

My mother has a migraine during sleep, she noted.

Sanin spoke - of course, as before, in a whisper - about his "trade"; seriously inquired about the price of various "confectionery" goods; Gemma was just as seriously telling him these prices, and meanwhile they were both laughing inwardly and amicably, as if realizing that they were playing a most amusing comedy. Suddenly, in the street, a hurdy-gurdy began to play an aria from "Freischütz": "Durch die Felder, durch die Auen" Tearful sounds whined, trembling and whistling, in the still air. Gemma shuddered... "He'll wake up Mom!"

Sanin immediately ran out into the street, thrust several cruisers into the organ grinder's hand, and forced him to shut up and leave. When he returned, Gemma thanked him with a slight nod of her head and, smiling thoughtfully, she herself began to hum almost audibly the beautiful Weberian melody with which Max expresses all the bewilderment of first love. Then she asked Sanin if he knew "Freischütz", if he liked Weber, and added that although she herself was Italian, she loved this kind of music most of all. From Weber the conversation slipped to poetry and romanticism, to Hoffmann, whom everyone was still reading then...

And Frau Lenore kept dozing and even snored a little, and the rays of the sun, breaking through the shutters in narrow stripes, imperceptibly, but constantly moved and traveled over the floor, over the furniture, over Gemma's dress, over the leaves and flower petals.

It turned out that Gemma did not like Hoffmann too much and even found him ... boring! The fantastically misty, northern element of his stories was little accessible to her southern, bright nature. "These are all fairy tales, all this is written for children!" she assured him, not without contempt. The absence of poetry in Hoffmann was also vaguely felt by her. But he had one story, the title of which she, however, forgot, and which she liked very much; in fact, she liked only the beginning of this story: she either did not read the end, or she also forgot. It was about a young man who, somewhere, almost in a confectionery, meets a girl of striking beauty, a Greek woman; she is accompanied by a mysterious and strange, evil old man. A young man falls in love with a girl at first sight; she looks at him so plaintively, as if begging him to release her ... He leaves for a moment - and, returning to the confectionery, he no longer finds either the girl or the old man; he rushes to look for it, constantly stumbles upon their freshest traces, chases after them - and in no way, nowhere, can he ever reach them. The beauty disappears for him forever and ever - and he is unable to forget her pleading look, and he is tormented by the thought that, perhaps, all the happiness of his life has slipped out of his hands ...

Hoffmann hardly ends his story in this way; but that is how it took shape, that is how it remained in Gemma's memory.

It seems to me, - she said, - such meetings and such separations happen in the world more often than we think.

Sanin said nothing ... and a little later he spoke ... about Mr. Kluber. He mentioned it for the first time; he never thought of it until that moment.

Gemma said nothing in her turn and thought, lightly biting the nail of her index finger and fixing her eyes to the side. Then she praised her fiancé, mentioned the walk he had arranged for the next day, and, glancing quickly at Sanin, fell silent again.

Sanin didn't know what to talk about.

Emil ran in noisily and woke up Frau Lenore... Sanin was glad to see him.

Frau Lenore got up from her chair. Pantaleone appeared and announced that dinner was ready. A domestic friend, ex-singer and servant also corrected the position of a cook.

Sanin stayed after dinner. They did not let him go under the same pretext of terrible heat, and when the heat fell, he was invited to go to the garden to drink coffee in the shade of acacias. Sanin agreed. He felt very good. In the monotonously quiet and smooth course of life, great charms lurk - and he indulged in them with pleasure, not demanding anything special from the present day, but not thinking about tomorrow, not remembering yesterday. What was the intimacy of a girl such as Gemma worth! He would part with her soon, and probably forever; but while the same boat, as in the Uland romance, carries them along the tamed streams of life - rejoice, enjoy, traveler! And everything seemed pleasant and sweet to the happy traveller. Frau Tenore invited him to fight her and Pantaleone in "tresetta", taught him this simple Italian card game - beat him by several cruisers - and he was very pleased; Pantaleone, at the request of Emil, made the poodle Tartaglia do all his tricks - and Tartaglia jumped over a stick, "spoke", that is, barked, sneezed, locked the door with his nose, dragged his owner's worn-out shoe and, finally, with an old shako on his head, represented Marshal Bernadotte, who is subjected to cruel reproaches by Emperor Napoleon for treason. Napoleon was introduced, of course, by Pantaleone - and he represented very correctly: he crossed his arms over his chest, pulled his three-cornered hat over his eyes and spoke rudely and sharply, in French, but, my God! in what French! Tartaglia sat in front of his master, all crouched, his tail between his legs and blinking in embarrassment and squinting under the visor of his shako pulled down obliquely; from time to time, when Napoleon raised his voice, Bernadotte rose on his hind legs. "Fuori, traditore!" - Napoleon finally shouted, forgetting in excess of irritation that he had to endure his French character to the end - and Bernadotte rushed headlong under the sofa, but immediately jumped out of there with a joyful bark, as if letting them know that the show was over. All the spectators laughed a lot - and Sanin most of all.

Gemma had a particularly sweet, unceasing, quiet laugh, with little amusing squeals.... Sanina was so overwhelmed by this laughter - he would have kissed her for these squeals! The night has come at last. Well, it was an honor to know! Saying goodbye to everyone several times, saying to everyone several times: see you tomorrow! (he even kissed Emil), Sanin went home and carried with him the image of a young girl, now laughing, now thoughtful, now calm and even indifferent - but always attractive! Her eyes, now wide open and bright and joyful, like day, now half-covered with eyelashes and deep and dark, like night, stood before his eyes, strangely and sweetly penetrating all other images and ideas.

Of Herr Klüber, of the reasons that had prompted him to stay in Frankfurt—in a word, of all that had worried him the day before—he never once thought.

It is necessary, however, to say a few words about Sanin himself.

First, he was very, very good-looking. A stately, slender growth, pleasant, slightly vague features, affectionate bluish eyes, golden hair, whiteness and ruddiness of the skin - and most importantly: that ingenuously cheerful, trusting, frank, at first somewhat stupid expression, by which in former times one could immediately to recognize the children of sedate noble families, "father's" sons, good nobles, born and fattened in our free semi-steppe lands; a hesitant gait, a voice with a whisper, a smile like that of a child, as soon as you look at him ... finally, freshness, health - and softness, softness, softness - that's all Sanin for you. And secondly, he was not stupid and got something. He remained fresh, despite the trip abroad: the anxious feelings that overwhelmed the best part of the then youth were little known to him.

Recently, in our literature, after a futile search for "new people," they began to breed young men who decided to be fresh at all costs ... fresh, like the Flensburg oysters brought to St. Petersburg ... Sanin was not like them. If it came to comparison, it rather resembled a young, curly, recently grafted apple tree in our black earth gardens - or, even better: a well-groomed, smooth, thick-legged, tender three-year-old of the former - "master's" horse factories, which had just begun to be trimmed on a cord ... Those who came across Sanin later, when life broke him in order and the young, feigned fat had long since slipped off him, saw in him a completely different person.

The next day Sanin was still in bed, like Emil already, in a festive dress, with a cane in his hand and heavily oiled, burst into his room and announced that Herr Klüber would immediately arrive with a carriage, that the weather promised to be amazing, that they had everything is ready, but that mother will not go, because her head hurts again. He began to rush Sanin, assuring him that there was no time to waste... And indeed, Mr. Kluber found Sanin still at the toilet. He knocked on the door, entered, bowed, arched his body, expressed his readiness to wait as long as he liked - and sat down, gracefully leaning his hat on his knee. The good-looking commie became flamboyant and perfumed completely: his every movement was accompanied by an intensified influx of the finest fragrance. He arrived in a spacious open carriage, the so-called landau, harnessed by two strong and tall, albeit ugly, horses. A quarter of an hour later Sanin, Kluber and Emil in this same the carriage was solemnly rolled up to the porch of the candy store. Madame Roselli resolutely refused to take part in the walk; Gemma wanted to stay with her mother, but she, as they say, drove her away.

I don’t need anyone, she assured me, I will sleep. I would send Pantaleone with you, but there would be no one to trade.

Can I take Tartaglia? Emil asked.

Of course you can.

Tartaglia immediately, with joyful efforts, climbed onto the goats and sat down, licking his lips: it was clear that he was used to it. Gemma put on a large straw hat with brown ribbons; this hat bent down in front, shielding almost the entire face from the sun. The line of shadow stopped just above the lips: they glowed virginally and tenderly, like the petals of a capital rose, and the teeth shone stealthily, also innocently, like those of children. Gemma sat in the back seat, next to Sanin; Kluber and Emil sat opposite. The pale figure of Frau Lenore appeared at the window, Gemma waved her handkerchief at her, and the horses set off.

Soden is a small town half an hour from Frankfurt. It lies in a beautiful area, on the spurs of the Taunus, and is known here in Russia for its waters, supposedly useful for people with weak chests. Frankfurters go there more for fun, as Soden has a beautiful park and various "wirtschafts" where you can drink beer and coffee in the shade of tall lindens and maples. The road from Frankfurt to Soden runs along the right bank of the Main and is lined with fruit trees. While the carriage rolled quietly along the excellent highway, Sanin furtively watched how Gemma treated her fiancé: for the first time he saw them both together. She behaved calmly and simply - but somewhat more reservedly and more seriously than usual; he looked like a condescending mentor who allowed both himself and his subordinates a modest and polite pleasure. Sanin did not notice any special courtship for Gemma, what the French call "empressement". It was evident that Herr Klüber considered the matter finished, and therefore had no reason to bother or worry. But condescension did not leave him for a single moment! Even on a long pre-dinner walk through the wooded mountains and valleys beyond Soden; even enjoying the beauties of nature, he treated her, this very nature, all with the same indulgence, through which the usual bossy severity occasionally broke through. So, for example, he noticed about one stream that it flows too straight through a hollow, instead of making several picturesque bends; I also did not approve of the behavior of one bird - a chaffinch - which did not diversify its knees enough! Gemma was not bored, and even, apparently, felt pleasure; but Sanin did not recognize the former Gemma in her: not that a shadow came over her - her beauty had never been more radiant - but her soul had withdrawn into itself, inside. Having unbuttoned her umbrella and unbuttoned her gloves, she walked sedately, slowly - as educated girls walk - and spoke little. Emil also felt embarrassed, and Sanin even more so. Incidentally, he was somewhat embarrassed by the fact that the conversation was constantly in German. One Tartaglia did not lose heart! With a frantic bark, he raced after the thrushes that came across to him, jumped over potholes, stumps, korchagi, rushed into the water with a flourish and hastily lapped it, shook himself, squealed and again flew like an arrow, throwing his red tongue to the very shoulder. Herr Klüber, for his part, did everything he thought necessary to amuse the company; asked her to sit down in the shade of a spreading oak - and, taking out a small book from his side pocket, entitled: "Knallerbsen oder Du sollst und wirst lachen! "(Firecrackers, or You must and will laugh!), Began to read the intelligible anecdotes with which this little book was filled. I read about twelve of them; however, it aroused little gaiety: only Sanin grinned his teeth out of decency, but he himself, Mr. Kluber, after each anecdote, he produced a short, businesslike - and yet indulgent laugh. By twelve o'clock the whole company returned to Soden, to the best tavern there.

Dinner was to be ordered.

Herr Klüber proposed to have this dinner in a pavilion closed on all sides - "im Gartensalon"; but here Gemma suddenly rebelled and announced that she would not dine otherwise than in the open air, in the garden, at one of the small tables set in front of the tavern; that she was tired of being all with the same faces and that she wanted to see others. Groups of newly arrived guests were already seated at some of the tables.

While Herr Klüber, condescendingly submitting to "the caprice of his fiancée," went to consult the oberkölner, Gemma stood motionless, lowering her eyes and pursing her lips; she felt that Sanin was looking at her relentlessly and, as it were, inquiringly—this seemed to annoy her.

At last M. Klüber returned, announced that dinner would be ready in half an hour, and offered to play skittles until then, adding that it was very good for the appetite, he-he-he! He played skittles expertly; while throwing the ball, he took surprisingly valiant poses, dandyly played his muscles, dandyly waved and shook his leg. In his own way he was an athlete - and superbly built! And his hands were so white and beautiful, and he wiped them with such a rich, golden-colored, Indian foulard!

The moment of dinner came - and the whole society sat down at the table.

Who doesn't know what a German dinner is? Watery soup with knobby dumplings and cinnamon, boiled beef, dry as a cork, with adhering white fat, slimy potatoes, plump beetroot and chewed horseradish, blue eel with capo and vinegar, fried with jam and the inevitable "Mehlspeise", a kind of pudding, with sour red gravy; but wine and beer at least where! The Soden innkeeper treated his guests to exactly the same dinner. However, the dinner itself went off without a hitch. A special revival, however, was not noticed; it did not appear even when Mr. Klüber toasted "what we love!" (was wir lieben). Everything was very decent and decent. After dinner, coffee was served, thin, reddish, straight German coffee. Herr Klüber, like a true cavalier, asked Gemma's permission to light a cigar... But suddenly something unexpected happened, and certainly unpleasant - and even indecent!

Several officers of the Mainz garrison were seated at one of the adjacent tables. From their glances and whispers, it was easy to guess that Gemma's beauty struck them; one of them, who had probably already had time to visit Frankfurt, looked at her every now and then, as if at a figure he knew very well: he obviously knew who she was. He suddenly got up and with a glass in his hand - Messrs. the officers got drunk heavily, and the whole tablecloth in front of them was set with bottles - he approached the table at which Gemma was sitting. He was a very young fair-haired man, with rather pleasant and even sympathetic features; but the wine he drank distorted them: his cheeks twitched, his inflamed eyes wandered and took on an impudent expression. The comrades at first tried to keep him, but then they let him in: he was not there - what, they say, will come of this?

Swaying slightly on his feet, the officer stopped in front of Gemma and in a forcibly loud voice, in which, against his will, nevertheless expressed a struggle with himself, he said: slammed the "glass) - and in retribution I take this flower, plucked by her divine fingers!" He took from the table a rose lying in front of Gemma's device. At first she was amazed, frightened, and turned terribly pale... then her fright gave way to indignation, she suddenly blushed all over, to the very hair—and her eyes, fixed directly on the offender, at the same time darkened and flashed, filled with darkness, lit up. fire of uncontrollable anger. The officer must have been confused by this look; he muttered something unintelligible, bowed, and went back to his own. They greeted him with laughter and light applause.

M. Klüber suddenly got up from his chair, and, drawing himself to his full height and putting on his hat, with dignity, but not too loudly, said: "This is unheard of. Unheard of insolence!" (Unerhort! Unerhorte Frechheit) - and immediately, in a stern voice, called the waiter to him, demanded an immediate calculation ... moreover, he ordered to lay the carriage, and added that decent people should not go to them, because they are insulted! At these words, Gemma, who continued to sit in her place without moving, her chest rising sharply and high, Gemma turned her eyes to Mr. on an officer. Emil was just trembling with rage.

Stand up, main fraulein," Herr Klüber continued with the same severity, "it is indecent for you to remain here. We will settle down there, in the tavern!

Gemma rose silently; he offered her his hand in a ball, she gave him hers - and he went to the inn with a majestic gait, which, like his posture, became more majestic and arrogant the farther he moved away from the place where the dinner was taking place.

Poor Emil trudged after them. But while Mr. Klyuber was paying off with the waiter, to whom he did not give a single cruiser for vodka, as a fine, Sanin went with quick steps to the table at which the officers were sitting - and, turning to the insulter of Gemma (he was at that moment giving his comrades to sniff her rose in turn), - he said distinctly, in French:

What you have just done, my dear sir, is unworthy of an honest man, unworthy of the uniform you wear - and I have come to tell you that you are an ill-bred impudent fellow!

The young man jumped to his feet, but another officer, an older one, stopped him with a wave of his hand, forced him to sit down, and, turning to Sanin, asked him, also in French:

What, is he a relative, brother or fiancé of that girl?

I am a complete stranger to her,” exclaimed Sanin, “I am Russian, but I cannot see such insolence with indifference; however, here is my card and my address: the officer can find me.

Having said these words, Sanin threw his business card on the table and at the same time deftly grabbed Jemma's rose, which one of the officers sitting at the table had dropped onto his plate. The young man again wanted to jump up from his chair, but his comrade again stopped him, saying:

"Dongoff, be quiet!" (Donhof, sei still!). Then he got up himself and, touching the visor with his hand, not without a certain shade of deference in his voice and manner, told Sanin that tomorrow morning an officer of their regiment would have the honor to come to his apartment. Sanin answered with a short bow and hurriedly returned to his friends.

Mr. Klyuber pretended not to notice at all either Sanin's absence or his explanation with the officers; he urged the coachman, who harnessed the horses, and was very angry at his slowness. Gemma, too, said nothing to Sanin, did not even look at him: from her knitted eyebrows, from her pale and compressed lips, from her very immobility, one could understand that she was not feeling well in her soul. Only Emil clearly wanted to talk to Sanin, wanted to question him: he saw how Sanin approached the officers, saw how he handed them something white - a piece of paper, a note, a card ... The poor young man's heart was beating, his cheeks were burning, he was ready to throw himself on Sanin's neck, he was ready to cry, or to go at once with him to smash all those nasty officers to smithereens! However, he restrained himself and contented himself with closely following every movement of his noble Russian friend!

The coachman finally laid down the horses; the whole society got into the carriage. Emil, following Tartaglia, climbed onto the goats; he was more at ease there, and Klüber, whom he could not see with indifference, did not stick around in front of him.

All the way, Herr Klüber ranted ... and ranted alone; no one, no one objected to him, and no one agreed with him. He especially insisted on how vainly they did not listen to him when he offered to dine in a closed arbor. There would be no trouble! Then he made several harsh and even liberal judgments about how the government unforgivably indulges officers, does not observe their discipline and does not respect the civil element of society (das burgerliche Element in der Societat) enough) - and how displeasures from which already close to revolution! what a sad example (here he sighed sympathetically, but sternly) - a sad example is France! However, he immediately added that he personally reveres the authorities and will never ... never! .. be a revolutionary - but he cannot but express his ... disapproval at the sight of such licentiousness! Then he added a few more general remarks about morality and immorality, about decency and a sense of dignity!

During all these "rantings" Gemma, who already during the pre-dinner walk did not seem quite pleased with Mr. Klüber - that's why she kept at some distance from Sanin and seemed to be embarrassed by his presence - Gemma clearly became ashamed of her fiancé! towards the end of the trip, she positively suffered, and although she still did not speak to Sanin, she suddenly cast an imploring glance at him ... For his part, he felt much more pity for her than indignation against Mr. Klüber; he even secretly, half-consciously, rejoiced at everything that happened during that day, although he could expect a call the next morning.

This painful partie de plaisir finally stopped. Dropping Gemma out of the carriage in front of the confectionery, Sanin, without saying a word, put the rose he had returned into her hand. She flushed all over, squeezed his hand and instantly hid the rose. He did not want to enter the house, although the evening was just beginning. She herself did not invite him. Moreover, Pantaleone appeared on the porch and announced that Frau Lenore was resting. Emilio shyly took leave of Sanin; he seemed to be ashamed of him: he was very surprised at him. Kluber took Sanin to his apartment and primly bowed to him. A properly arranged German, for all his self-confidence, was embarrassed. Yes, it was embarrassing for everyone.

However, in Sanin this feeling - a feeling of awkwardness - soon dissipated. It was replaced by a vague but pleasant, even enthusiastic mood. He paced the room, did not want to think about anything, whistled - and was very pleased with himself.

"I will wait for Mr. Officer for an explanation until 10 o'clock in the morning," he thought the next morning, making his toilet, "and then let him look for me!" But the German people get up early: before nine o'clock had struck, the waiter had already reported to Sanin that Mr. Lieutenant (der Herr Sesonde Lieutenant) von Richter wished to see him. Sanin nimbly threw on his frock coat and ordered to "beg." Mr. Richter turned out, contrary to Sanin's expectation, to be a very young man, almost a boy. He tried to give importance to the expression of his beardless face, but he did not succeed at all: he could not even hide his embarrassment - and, sitting down on a chair, he almost fell, catching his saber. Stumbling and stammering, he announced to Sanin in bad French that he had come with an assignment from his friend, Baron von Donhof; and that, in the event of refusal by Herr von Zanin, Baron von Donhof wishes satisfaction. Sanin replied that he did not intend to apologize, but that he was ready to give satisfaction. Then Herr von Richter, still stammering, asked with whom, at what hour and in what place he would have to conduct the necessary negotiations. Sanin replied that he could come to him in two hours, and that until then he, Sanin, would try to find a second. ("Who the hell am I going to take as seconds?" he thought meanwhile to himself.) Herr von Richter got up and began to bow ... but on the threshold of the door he stopped, as if feeling remorse, and, turning to Sanin, said that his friend, Baron von Donhof, did not hide from himself ... to some extent ... his own guilt in yesterday's incident - and therefore he would be satisfied with light apologies - "des exghizes lecheres." To this Sanin answered, that he does not intend to give any apologies, either heavy or light, since he does not consider himself guilty.

In that case, - Mr. von Richter objected and blushed even more, - it will be necessary to exchange friendly shots - des goups de bisdolet a l "amiaple!

I don’t understand this at all,” Sanin remarked, “are we supposed to shoot into the air, or what?

Oh, that’s not right, it’s not like that,” the completely embarrassed second lieutenant stammered, “but I thought that since this is happening between decent people ... I’ll talk to your second,” he interrupted himself, and left.

Sanin sank into a chair as soon as it left and stared at the floor.

"What, they say, is this? How did life suddenly spin like that? All the past, all the future suddenly faded away, disappeared - and all that remained was that I was fighting with someone in Frankfurt for something." He remembered one of his crazy aunts, who used to dance and sing:

Second lieutenant!

My cucumber!

My cupid!

Dance with me, my dear!

And he laughed and sang, like her: "Second lieutenant! dance with me, my dear!"

However, we must act, not waste time, ”he exclaimed loudly, jumped up and saw Pantaleone in front of him with a note in his hand.

I knocked several times, but you did not answer; I thought you were not at home,” the old man said and handed him a note. “From Signorina Gemma.

Sanin took the note - mechanically, as they say - printed it out and read it. Gemma wrote to him that she was very worried about the matter known to him and would like to see him at once.

Signorina is worried, - began Pantaleone, who obviously knew the contents of the note, - she ordered me to see what you are doing and bring you to her.

Sanin glanced at the old Italian and fell into thought. A sudden thought flashed through his head. At first, she seemed to him strange to the point of impossibility...

"However... why not?" he asked himself.

Mr Pantaleone! he said loudly.

The old man started up, buried his chin in his tie, and stared at Sanin.

Do you know,” continued Sanin, “what happened yesterday?

Pantaleone chewed his lips and shook his huge crest.

(Emil had just returned, told him everything.)

Ah, you know! - Well, that's it. Now an officer has left me. That dude challenges me to a duel. I accepted his challenge. But I don't have a second. Do you want to be my second?

Pantaleone trembled and raised his eyebrows so high that they disappeared under his hanging hair.

Are you sure you have to fight? he finally spoke in Italian; up to that moment he had spoken in French.

Certainly. To do otherwise would be to disgrace yourself forever.

Um. If I do not agree to go to your second, will you look for another?

I will... for sure.

Pantaleone looked down.

But let me ask you, signor de Zanini, will not your duel throw some unseemly shadow on the reputation of one person?

I don't suppose; but be that as it may, there is nothing to do!

Hm. - Pantaleone has completely gone into his tie. - Well, and that ferroflucto Cluberio, what is he? he exclaimed suddenly, and threw up his face.

He? Nothing.

Ke! (Che!) - Pantaleone shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. - In any case, I must thank you, - he finally said in an unsteady voice, - that even in my present humiliation you were able to recognize in me a decent person - un galant uomo! In doing so, you yourself have shown yourself to be a real galant uomo. But I must consider your offer.

Time does not endure, dear Mr. Chi... chippa...

Tola, - prompted the old man. - I ask only one hour for reflection. The daughter of my benefactors is involved here ... And therefore I must, I must - think !!. In an hour... in three-quarters of an hour, you will know my decision.

Good; I'll wait.

And now ... what answer shall I give Signorina Gemma?

Sanin took a piece of paper, wrote on it: "Be calm, my dear friend, in about three hours I will come to you - and everything will be explained. I sincerely thank you for your participation" - and handed this sheet to Pantaleone.

He carefully put it in his side pocket - and, repeating once more: "In an hour!" - he started towards the door: but he turned sharply back, ran up to Sanin, grabbed his hand - and pressing it to his frill, raising his eyes to the sky, he exclaimed: "Nobil giovannoto! Gran cuore!) - allow me weak old man (a un vecchiotto) to shake your courageous right hand! (la vostra valorosa destra!) ".

Then he jumped back a little, waved both hands - and left.

Sanin looked after him... took the newspaper and began to read. But his eyes darted over the lines in vain: he did not understand anything.

An hour later the waiter re-entered Sanin and handed him an old, soiled visiting card, on which were the following words: Pantaleone Chippatola, from Varese, court singer (cantante di camera) of his royal highness the Duke of Modena; and Pantaleone himself appeared after the waiter. He changed from head to toe. He wore a reddish black tailcoat and a white pickled waistcoat, over which a tombac chain writhed intricately; a heavy carnelian signet hung low on narrow black breeches with a codpiece. In his right hand he held a black hare-down hat, in his left two thick suede gloves; he tied his tie even wider and higher than usual - and in a starched frill he stuck a pin with a stone called "cat's eye" (oeil de chat). On the index finger of the right hand was a ring depicting two folded hands, and between them a flaming heart. A stale smell, the smell of camphor and musk, wafted from the whole person of the old man; the preoccupied solemnity of his posture would have struck the most indifferent spectator! Sanin stood up to meet him.

I am your second,” Pantaleone said in French and leaned forward with his whole body, and put his socks apart, as dancers do. “I came for instructions. Do you want to fight without mercy?

Why without mercy, my dear Mr. Chippatola! I won't take my yesterday's words back for anything in the world - but I'm not a bloodsucker! .. Wait a minute, my opponent's second will come. I will go to the next room - and you and him will agree. Believe me, I will never forget your service and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Honor first! answered Pantaleone, and sank into an armchair, without waiting for Sanin to ask him to sit down. “If this ferroflucto spicebubbio,” he began, mixing French with Italian, “if this merchant Kluberio did not know how to understand his direct duty or was a coward, so much the worse.” for him! .. A penny soul - and that's it! .. As for the conditions of the duel - I am your second and your interests are sacred to me !!. When I lived in Padut, there was a regiment of white dragoons - and I was very close to many officers! .. Their entire code is very well known to me. Well, with your prince Tarbuska, I often talked about these issues ... Is that second due to come soon?

I'm waiting for him every minute - and here he comes himself, - Sanin added, glancing into the street.

Pantaleone got up, looked at the vats, straightened his cook and hurriedly stuffed a ribbon dangling from under his trousers into his shoe. The young lieutenant entered, still red and embarrassed.

Sanin introduced the seconds to each other.

Monsieur Richter, sous lieutenant! - Monsieur Zippatola, artists!

The second lieutenant was a little surprised at the sight of the old man... Oh, what would he say if someone whispered to him at that moment that the "artist" introduced to him was also engaged in the art of cooking! fights was the most common thing for him: probably, in this case, the memories of his theatrical career helped him - and he played the role of a second precisely as a role. Both he and the second lieutenant were both silent for a while.

Well? Let's get started! said Pantaleone first, playing with his cornelian signet.

Let's get started, - the second lieutenant replied, - but ... the presence of one of the opponents ...

I'll leave you immediately, gentlemen," Sanin exclaimed, bowed, went into the bedroom, and locked the door behind him.

He threw himself on the bed - and began to think about Gemma ... but the conversation of the seconds penetrated to him through the closed door. It took place in French; both distorted him mercilessly, each in his own way. Pantaleone again mentioned the dragoons in Padua, the Tarbusca prince, second lieutenant, about "exghizes lecherez" and about "goups a l" amiaple ". But the old man did not want to hear about any exghizes! To Sanin's horror, he suddenly started talking to his interlocutor about some to a young innocent girl, one little finger of which is worth more than all the officers of the world ... (oune zeune damigella innoucenta, qu "a ella sola dans soun peti doa vale piu que toutt le zouffissie del mondo!) and repeated several times with fervor: " It's a shame! It's a shame!" (E ouna onta, ouna onta!) The lieutenant at first did not object to him, but then an angry tremor was heard in the young man's voice, and he noticed that he had not come to listen to moral maxims ...

At your age, it is always good to hear fair speeches! exclaimed Pantaleone.

The debate between Mr. seconds became stormy several times; it lasted more than an hour and ended, finally, with the following conditions: "to shoot baron von Donhof and Mr. de Sanin tomorrow, at 10 o'clock in the morning, in a small forest near Hanau, at a distance of twenty paces; each has the right to shoot twice at a sign, given by the seconds. Pistols without a shneller and not rifled." Herr von Richter retired, and Pantaleone solemnly opened the bedroom door and, announcing the result of the meeting, exclaimed again: "Bravo, Russo! Bravo, giovanotto! You will be the winner!"

A few minutes later they both went to Roselli's pastry shop. Sanin had previously taken a word from Pantaleone to keep the matter of the duel in the deepest secrecy. In response, the old man only raised his finger and, screwing up his eyes, whispered twice in a row: "segredezza!" (Mystery!). He apparently rejuvenated and even performed more freely. All these extraordinary, albeit unpleasant, events brought him vividly back to that era when he himself accepted and made challenges - however, on the stage. Baritones are known to be very cocky in their roles.

Emil ran out to meet Sanin - he had been watching for his arrival for more than an hour - and hurriedly whispered to him that his mother did not know anything about yesterday's trouble and that he should not even hint at it, but that he was being sent to the store again !!. but that he would not go there, but would hide somewhere! Having told all this within a few seconds, he suddenly fell on Sanin's shoulder, kissed him impulsively, and rushed down the street. In the candy store Gemma met Sanin; I wanted to say something, but I couldn't. Her lips trembled slightly, and her eyes squinted and ran around. He hurried to reassure her that the whole affair had ended ... in mere trifles.

Did you have anyone today? she asked

I had one person - we explained ourselves to him - and we ... we came to the most satisfactory result. Gemma returned behind the counter. "She didn't believe me!" he thought... but he went into the next room and found Frau Lenore there. Her migraine was gone, but she was in a melancholy mood. She smiled warmly at him, but at the same time warned him that he would be bored with her today, as she was not able to keep him busy. He sat down next to her and noticed that her eyelids were red and swollen.

What is the matter with you, Frau Lenore? Did you cry?

Shhh…” she whispered and pointed her head at the room where her daughter was. “Don't say that…loudly.

But why were you crying?

Oh, Monsieur Sanin, I don't know what!

Nobody upset you?

Oh no!.. I suddenly became very bored. I remembered Giovan Battista ... my youth ... Then, how it all soon passed. I'm getting old, my friend, and I can't put up with it. It seems that I myself am still the same as before ... and old age - here it is ... here it is! - Tears appeared in Frau Lenora's eyes. - I see you look at me and are surprised ... But you will also grow old, my friend, and you will know how bitter it is!

Sanin began to console her, mentioned her children, in whom her own youth was resurrected, even tried to tease her, assuring her that she was asking for compliments ... But she, not jokingly, asked him to "stop", and he was here in the first once I could be convinced that such despondency, the despondency of conscious old age, cannot be consoled and dispelled by anything; you have to wait until it passes by itself. He invited her to play tresetta with him - and he could not think of anything better. She agreed at once and seemed to cheer up.

Sanin played with her before dinner and after dinner. Pantaleone also took part in the game. Never had his crest fallen so low on his forehead, never had his chin sunk so deep into his tie! Each movement of his breathed such concentrated importance that, looking at him, the thought involuntarily arose: what kind of secret is this man keeping with such firmness?

But - segregezza! segregezza!

Throughout that day, he tried in every possible way to show the deepest respect to Sanin; at the table, solemnly and resolutely, bypassing the ladies, served dishes to him first; during a card game, he gave him a buy-in, did not dare to remit him; declared, neither to the village nor to the city, that the Russians are the most generous, brave and resolute people in the world!

"Oh, you old hypocrite!" Sanin thought to himself.

And he marveled not so much at the unexpected state of mind in Madame Roselli, but at the way her daughter treated him. It was not that she avoided him ... on the contrary, she constantly sat down at a short distance from him, listened to his speeches, looked at him; but she resolutely did not want to enter into conversation with him, and as soon as he spoke to her, she quietly got up from her place and quietly retired for a few moments. Then she appeared again, and again sat down somewhere in a corner - and sat motionless, as if thinking and perplexed ... perplexed more than anything. Frau Lenore herself finally noticed the unusual behavior of her and once or twice asked what was the matter with her.

Nothing, - answered Gemma, - you know, I am sometimes like that.

That's right, - agreed with her mother.

Thus the whole long day passed, neither lively nor sluggish, neither cheerful nor dull. Behave yourself Gemma differently - Sanin... who knows? he would not have resisted the temptation to show off a little, or would simply have succumbed to a feeling of sadness before a possible, perhaps eternal separation ... But since he never even had to talk to Gemma, he had to be satisfied with the fact that for a quarter of an hour, before evening coffee, took minor chords on the piano.

Emil returned late and, in order to avoid inquiries about Herr Klüber, retired very soon. It was Sanin's turn to leave as well.

He began to say goodbye to Gemma. For some reason, he remembered Lensky's parting with Olga in Onegin. He squeezed her hand tightly and tried to look into her face - but she slightly turned away and freed her fingers.

Already completely "starred" when he went out onto the porch. And how many of them poured out, these stars - large, small, yellow, red, blue, white! All of them glowed and swarmed, vying with each other, playing with rays. There was no moon in the sky, but even without it, every object was clearly visible in the half-light, shadowless twilight. Sanin walked the street to the end ... He did not want to return home at once; he felt the need to wander in the open air. He went back - and had not yet managed to catch up with the house in which Roselli's confectionery was located, when one of the windows overlooking the street suddenly knocked and opened - on his black quadrangle (there was no fire in the room) a female figure appeared - and he heard that his name is: "Monsieur Dimitri"

He immediately rushed to the window... Gemma!

She leaned against the windowsill and leaned forward.

Monsieur Dimitri,” she began in a cautious voice, “I have wanted to give you one thing all this day ... but I did not dare; and now, unexpectedly seeing you again, I thought that, apparently, it was destined to be so ...

Gemma involuntarily paused at that word. She could not continue: something extraordinary happened at that very moment.

Suddenly, in the midst of deep silence, with a completely cloudless sky, such a gust of wind came up that the earth itself seemed to tremble underfoot, the thin starlight trembled and streamed, the very air spun in a club. A whirlwind, not cold, but warm, almost sultry, hit the trees, the roof of the house, its walls, the street; he instantly tore the hat off Sanin's head, fluffed up and tossed Gemma's black curls. Sanin's head was level with the windowsill; he involuntarily clung to him - and Gemma grabbed hold of his shoulders with both hands, pressed her chest to his head. The noise, ringing and roar lasted about a minute... Like a pile of huge birds, a whirlwind rushed away... There was again a deep silence.

Sanin got up and saw above him such a wonderful, frightened, excited face, such huge, terrible, magnificent eyes - he saw such a beauty that his heart sank, he pressed his lips to a thin strand of hair that fell on his chest - and he could only say:

Oh Gemma!

What was it? Lightning? she asked, rolling her eyes wide and not taking her bare hands from his shoulders.

Gemma! Sanin repeated.

She shuddered, looked back into the room, and with a quick movement, she took out a faded rose from behind her bodice and threw it to Sanin.

I wanted to give you this flower...

He recognized the rose he won back the day before...

But the window had already slammed shut, and nothing could be seen or turned white behind the dark glass.

Sanin came home without a hat... He didn't even notice that he had lost it.

He fell asleep in the early morning. And not smart! Under the blow of that instantaneous summer whirlwind, he almost instantly felt - not that Gemma was beautiful, not that he liked her - he knew this before ... but that he almost ... did not love her ! Instantly, like that whirlwind, love flew over him. And then this stupid duel! Sad forebodings began to torment him. Well, suppose they don't kill him... What can come out of his love for this girl, for the bride of another? Let us even suppose that this "other" is not dangerous to him, that Gemma herself will fall in love with him, or has already fallen in love with him... So what of it? Like what? Such a beauty...

He walked around the room, sat down at the table, took a sheet of paper, drew a few lines on it - and immediately blacked out them ... He remembered the amazing figure of Gemma, in a dark window, under the rays of the stars, all scattered by a warm whirlwind; he remembered her marble hands, similar to the hands of the Olympian goddesses, felt their living weight on his shoulders ... Then he took the rose thrown to him - and it seemed to him that from its half-withered petals there was a different, even more subtle smell than the usual smell of roses .. .

"And suddenly he will be killed or maimed?"

He did not go to bed and fell asleep, dressed, on the sofa.

Someone patted him on the shoulder...

He opened his eyes and saw Pantaleone.

Sleeping like Alexander the Great on the eve of the Babylonian battle! exclaimed the old man.

Yes, what time is it? Sanin asked.

Seven o'clock to a quarter; to Hanau - two hours drive, and we must be the first on the spot. Russians always warn enemies! I took the best carriage in Frankfurt!

Sanin began to wash.

Where are the pistols?

Pistols will bring that ferroflucto tedesco. And he will bring the doctor.

Pantaleone was apparently invigorated, as of yesterday; but when he got into the carriage with Sanin, when the driver cracked his whip and the horses started galloping, a sudden change took place in the former singer and friend of the Padua dragoons. He was embarrassed, even frightened. It was as if something had collapsed in him, like a poorly built wall.

However, what are we doing, my God, santissima Madonna! he exclaimed in an unexpectedly squeaky voice and grabbed his hair. “What am I doing, am I an old fool, crazy, frenetico?

Sanin was surprised and laughed, and, lightly hugging Panteleon by the waist, reminded him of the French proverb: "Le vin est - il faut le boire" (in Russian: "Taking hold of the tug, do not say that it is not hefty").

Yes, yes, - answered the old man, - we will drink this cup with you, - but still I am a madman! I am crazy! Everything was so quiet, good ... and suddenly: ta-ta-ta, tra-ta-ta!

Like tutti in an orchestra,” Sanin remarked with a forced smile. But you are not to blame.

I know it's not me! Still would! Still, it's... such an unbridled act. Diavolo! Diavolo! repeated Pantaleone, shaking his crest and sighing.

And the carriage kept rolling and rolling.

The morning was lovely. The streets of Frankfurt, barely beginning to come to life, seemed so clean and comfortable; the windows of the houses shone iridescently like foil; and as soon as the carriage left the outpost - from above, from the blue, not yet bright sky, the vociferous peals of larks rained down. Suddenly, at a bend in the highway, a familiar figure appeared from behind a tall poplar, took a few steps and stopped. Sanin took a closer look... My God! Emil!

Does he know anything? he turned to Pantaleone.

I'm telling you that I'm crazy, - the poor Italian cried out desperately, almost with a cry, - this ill-fated boy did not give me peace all night - and this morning I finally revealed everything to him!

"Here's segredezza for you!" Sanin thought.

The carriage caught up with Emil; Sanin ordered the coachman to stop the horses and called the "ill-fated boy" to him. Emil approached with hesitant steps, pale, pale, as on the day of his attack. He could barely keep on his feet.

What are you doing here? Sanin asked him sternly, "why aren't you at home?"

Let me ... let me go with you, - Emil murmured in a trembling voice and folded his hands. His teeth chattered as if in a fever. "I won't disturb you - just take me!"

If you feel even the slightest bit of affection or respect for me,” Sanin said, “you will now return home or to Mr. Kluber’s shop, and will not say a single word to anyone, and will wait for my return!

Your return, - groaned Emil, - and his voice rang and broke off, - but if you ...

Emil! Sanin interrupted him and pointed with his eyes at the coachman, "come to your senses!" Emil, please go home! Listen to me, my friend! You assure me that you love me. Well, I beg you!

He extended his hand to him. Emil staggered forward, sobbed, pressed her to his lips - and, jumping off the road, ran back to Frankfurt, across the field.

Also a noble heart,” muttered Pantaleone, but Sanin looked sullenly at him... The old man turned his head to the corner of the carriage. He recognized his guilt; and besides, with every moment he was more and more amazed: could it really be that he really became a second, and he got horses, and ordered everything, and left his peaceful dwelling at six o'clock in the morning? In addition, his legs ached and ached.

Sanin considered it necessary to encourage him - and hit the vein, found a real word.

Where is your former spirit, venerable Signor Chippatola? Where is il antico valor?

Signor Chippatola straightened up and frowned.

Is it antico valor? - he proclaimed in a bass voice. - Non e ancora spento (he is not all lost yet) - il antico valor !!

He drew himself up, talked about his career, about opera, about the great tenor Garcia - and arrived in Hanau a fine fellow. When you think about it: there is nothing in the world stronger ... and more powerless than words!

The wood in which the massacre was to take place was a quarter of a mile from Hanau. Sanin and Pantaleone arrived first, as he predicted; they ordered the carriage to stay at the edge of the forest and went deep into the shade of rather thick and dense trees. They had to wait for about an hour. The wait did not strike Sanin as particularly painful; he paced up and down the path, listened to the birds sing, followed the passing "yokes" and, like most Russian people in such cases, tried not to think. Once upon a time a thought came over him: he stumbled upon a young linden tree, broken, in all likelihood, by yesterday's squall. She was positively dying... all the leaves on her were dying. "What is this? an omen?" - flashed through his head; but he immediately whistled, jumped over that same linden tree, and walked along the path. Pantaleone - he grumbled, scolded the Germans, grunted, rubbed his back, then his knees. He even yawned with excitement, which gave an amusing expression to his small, eaten face. Sanin almost burst out laughing, looking at him. At last there was a rumble of wheels on the soft road. "They are!" said Pantaleone, and he became alert and straightened up, not without a momentary nervous trembling, which, however, he hastened to disguise with an exclamation: brrrr! - and the remark that this morning is quite fresh. Abundant dew flooded the grasses and leaves, but the heat already penetrated into the forest itself. Both officers soon appeared under his vaults; they were accompanied by a small plump little man with a phlegmatic, almost sleepy face - a military doctor. He carried in one hand an earthen jar of water - just in case; a bag of surgical instruments and bandages dangled from his left shoulder. It was evident that he was utterly accustomed to such excursions; they were one of the sources of his income: each duel brought him eight chervonets - four from each of the warring parties. Herr von Richter was carrying a box of pistols, Herr von Donhof was twirling a small whip in his hand, probably for "chic".

Pantaleone! - Sanin whispered to the old man, - if ... if they kill me - everything can happen - take out a piece of paper from my side pocket - a flower is wrapped in it - and give this piece of paper to Signorina Gemma. Do you hear? Do you promise?

The old man looked at him dejectedly and shook his head in the affirmative... But God knows whether he understood what Sanin asked him to do.

Opponents and seconds exchanged, as usual, bows; one doctor did not even raise an eyebrow - and sat down, yawning, on the grass: "I, they say, have no time for expressions of chivalrous courtesy." Mr. von Richter suggested to Mr. "Tshibadola" to choose a place; Mr. "Tshibadola" answered, stupidly moving his tongue (the "wall" in him collapsed again), that: "Act, they say, you, gracious sovereign; I will watch" ...

And Herr von Richter began to act. I found right there, in the forest, a pretty little clearing, all dotted with flowers; he measured his steps, marked the two extreme points with hastily trimmed sticks, took out pistols from the drawer and, squatting on his haunches, pounded the bullets; in a word, he toiled and busied himself with all his might, constantly wiping his sweaty face with a white handkerchief. Pantaleone, who accompanied him, looked more like a chilled person.

During all these preparations, both opponents stood at a distance, resembling two punished schoolchildren who pout at their tutors.

The decisive moment has come...

Everyone took their gun...

But then Herr von Richter noticed Pantaleone that he, as a senior second, should, according to the rules of a duel, before proclaiming the fatal: "One! Two! Three!", Turn to opponents with the last advice and proposal: make peace; that although this proposal never has any effect, and is nothing more than an empty formality, nevertheless, by the execution of this formality, Mr. Chippatola declines from himself a certain share of responsibility; that it is true that such an allocution is the direct duty of the so-called "impartial witness" (unparteiischer Zeuge) - but since they do not have one, he, Herr von Richter, willingly concedes this privilege to his venerable colleague. Pantaleone, who had already managed to shade himself behind a bush so as not to see the offending officer at all, at first did not understand anything from the whole speech of Herr von Richter - especially since it was uttered through the nose; but suddenly he started up, nimbly stepped forward and, convulsively pounding his hands on his chest, cried out in hoarse voices in his mixed dialect: "A la-la-la ... Che bestialita! Deux zeun" ommes comme ca que si battono - perche? Che diavolo? And date a casa!

I do not agree to reconciliation,” Sanin said hastily.

And I also do not agree, - his opponent repeated after him.

So shout: one, two, three! - Von Richter turned to the bewildered Pantaleone.

He immediately dived into the bush again - and from there he shouted, crouching all over, closing his eyes and turning his head away, but at the top of his voice:

Una... due... e tre!

Sanin fired first and missed. His bullet rattled against a tree.

Baron Donhof fired immediately after him - deliberately to the side, into the air.

There was a tense silence... No one moved. Pantaleone sighed weakly.

Would you like to continue? Donhof said.

Why did you shoot into the air? Sanin asked.

It's none of your business.

Will you fire into the air a second time? Sanin asked again.

May be; Don't know.

Excuse me, gentlemen...” began von Richter, “duelists have no right to speak among themselves. It's not right at all.

I refuse my shot, - Sanin said and threw the pistol on the ground.

And I don’t intend to continue the duel either,” Donhof exclaimed, and also threw down his pistol. “Besides, I’m now ready to admit that I was wrong - the third day.

He hesitated in place - and hesitantly held out his hand forward. Sanin quickly approached him - and shook it. The two young men looked at each other with a smile, and both of their faces turned red.

Bravi! bravi! - suddenly, like a madman, Pantaleone began to bawl and, clapping his hands, ran out from behind a bush like a tumbler; and the doctor, seated aside, on a felled tree, immediately got up, poured out water from a jug, and walked lazily waddling to the edge of the forest.

Honor is satisfied - and the duel is over! von Richter proclaimed.

Fuori (handicap!) - according to old memory, Pantaleone barked again.

Exchanging bows with Mr. officers and getting into the carriage, Sanin, it is true, felt in his whole being, if not pleasure, at least a certain lightness, as after a sustained operation; but another feeling stirred in him, a feeling akin to shame... The duel in which he had just played his part seemed to him to be false, a prearranged bureaucracy, an ordinary officer's, student's thing. He remembered the phlegmatic doctor, remembered how he smiled - that is, wrinkled his nose when he saw him coming out of the forest almost arm in arm with Baron Donhof. And then, when Pantaleone paid the same doctor the four chervonets following him ... Eh! something bad!

Yes; Sanin was a little ashamed and ashamed... although, on the other hand, what could he do? Do not leave unpunished the insolence of a young officer, do not become like Mr. Kluber? He stood up for Gemma, he protected her... It is true; but all the same, his heart was aching, and he was ashamed, and even ashamed.

But Pantaleone - just triumphed! They were suddenly filled with pride. A victorious general returning from the field of a battle he had won would not look around with much self-satisfaction. Sanin's behavior during the duel filled him with delight. He called him a hero - and did not want to hear his exhortations and even requests. He compared it with a monument of marble or bronze - with the statue of the commander in "Don Juan"! He admitted to himself that he felt a certain turmoil. "But I'm an artist," he remarked, "I have a nervous nature, and you are the son of snow and granite rocks."

Sanin absolutely did not know how to appease the dispersed artist.

Almost at the same place on the road where they overtook Emil about two hours ago, he again jumped out from behind a tree and with a cry of joy on his lips, waving his cap over his head and jumping up, rushed straight to the carriage, almost fell under wheel and, without waiting for the horses to stop, climbed up through the closed doors - and just glared at Sanin.

You are alive, you are not injured! - he repeated. - Forgive me, I did not listen to you, I did not return to Frankfurt ... I could not! I've been waiting for you here... Tell me how it was! You... killed him?

Sanin calmed down with difficulty and made Emil sit down.

Loquaciously, with apparent pleasure, Pantaleone told him all the details of the duel and, of course, did not fail to mention again the bronze monument, the statue of the commander! He even got up from his seat and, spreading his legs to maintain balance, crossed his arms over his chest and squinted contemptuously over his shoulder, personally represented the commander-Sanin! Emil listened with reverence, occasionally interrupting his story with an exclamation or rising quickly and just as quickly kissing his heroic friend.

The wheels of the carriage rattled on the pavement of Frankfurt - and finally stopped in front of the hotel where Sanin lived.

Accompanied by his two companions, he climbed the stairs to the second floor - when suddenly a woman came out of the dark corridor with nimble steps: her face was covered with a veil; she stopped in front of Sanin, staggered slightly, sighed tremblingly, immediately ran down to the street - and disappeared, to the great amazement of the waiter, who announced that "this lady had been waiting for the return of the foreigner for more than an hour." No matter how instantaneous her appearance was, Sanin managed to recognize Gemma in her. He recognized her eyes under the thick silk of a brown veil.

Did Fraulein Gemma know...” he drawled in a displeased voice, in German, turning to Emil and Pantaleone, who followed him on his heels.

Emil blushed and chuckled.

I was forced to tell her everything,” he murmured, “she guessed, and I couldn’t possibly ... But it doesn’t mean anything now,” he picked up with liveliness, “everything ended so beautifully, and she saw you healthy and unharmed.” !

Sanin turned away.

What talkers you both are, however! - he uttered with annoyance, went into his room and sat down on a chair.

Please don't get angry, Emil pleaded.

Okay, I won't get angry. (Sanin really wasn't angry - and, finally, he could hardly have wished that Gemma hadn't found out anything.) It's good ... full hugs. Get up now. I want to be alone. I'll go to bed. I'm tired.

Excellent thought! - exclaimed Pantaleone. - You need rest! You have fully deserved it, noble sir! Let's go, Emilio! On tiptoe! On tiptoe! Shhhh!

Saying that he wanted to sleep, Sanin only wanted to get rid of his comrades; but, left alone, he really felt a considerable weariness in all his limbs: all the previous night he hardly closed his eyes, and, throwing himself on the bed, immediately fell into a deep sleep.

For several hours he slept soundly. Then he began to dream that he was again fighting a duel, that Mr. Kluber was standing in front of him as an opponent, and that a parrot was sitting on the tree, and that parrot Pantaleone, and he kept repeating, clicking his nose: one-one-one! time-time-time! "One... one... one!!" he heard it too distinctly: he opened his eyes, raised his head ... someone was knocking at his door.

Sign in! Sanin shouted.

The waiter appeared and reported that a lady really needed to see him. "Gemma!" - flashed through his head ... but the lady turned out to be her mother - Frau Lenore.

As soon as she entered, she immediately sank into a chair and began to cry.

What is the matter with you, my good, dear Madame Roselli? Sanin began, sitting down beside her and gently touching her hand. "What happened?" Calm down, please.

Ah, Herr Dimitri!, I am very... very unhappy!

Are you unhappy?

Ah, very much! And could I expect? Suddenly, like thunder from a clear sky... She could hardly catch her breath.

But what is? Explain yourself! Would you like a glass of water?

No, thank you. - Frau Lenore wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and burst into tears with renewed vigor. - After all, I know everything! All!

That is, how is it: everything?

Everything that happened today! And the reason... I also know! You acted like a noble man; but what an unfortunate set of circumstances! No wonder I didn't like this trip to Soden... no wonder! (Frau Lenore had not said anything of the sort on the very day of the trip, but now it seemed to her that even then she had a premonition of "everything".) I came to you as to a noble person, as to a friend, although I saw you for the first time five days ago... But I'm a widow, lonely... My daughter...

Your daughter? he repeated.

My daughter, Gemma, - Frau Lenore escaped almost with a groan from under a handkerchief soaked with tears, - announced to me today that she does not want to marry Herr Klüber and that I must refuse him!

Sanin even drew back slightly: he did not expect this.

I'm not talking about that, - continued Frau Lenore, - that it's a shame that this has never happened in the world for the bride to rebuff the groom; but this is ruin for us, Herr Dimitri!! - Frau Lenore diligently and tightly folded the handkerchief into a small, small ball, as if she wanted to enclose all her grief in it. - We can no longer live on income from our store, Herr Dimitri! and Herr Klüber is very rich and will be even richer. And why should he refuse? Because he didn't stand up for his fiancee? Granted, this is not entirely good on his part, but he is a stately person, he was not brought up at the university and, as a respectable merchant, had to despise the frivolous prank of an unknown officer. And what is this insult, Herr Dimitri?

Excuse me, Frau Lenore, you seem to condemn me.

I don't blame you at all, not at all! You are a different matter; you, like all Russians, are a military man ...

Let me not...

You are a foreigner, a traveler, I am grateful to you,” continued Frau Lenore, not listening to Sanin. From the way her grief was expressed, it could be seen that she was not born under the northern sky.

And how will Mr. Kluber trade in the store if he fights with customers? This is completely inappropriate! And now I have to refuse him! But how are we going to live? Previously, we alone made girlish leather and nougat with pistachios - and buyers came to us, but now everyone makes girlish skin !! Just think: without that, they will talk about your duel in the city ... how can you hide it? And suddenly the wedding is upset! It's a scandal, a scandal! Gemma is a lovely girl; she loves me very much, but she's a stubborn republican, flaunting the opinions of others. You alone can persuade her!

Sanin was even more amazed than before.

Me, Frau Lenore?

Yes, you are alone... You are alone. That's why I came to you: I couldn't think of anything else! You are such a scientist, such a good person! You stood up for her. She will believe you! She must believe you - you risked your life! You will prove it to her, and I can't do anything more! You will prove to her that she will destroy herself and all of us. You saved my son - save my daughter! God himself sent you here... I'm ready to beg you on my knees...

And Frau Lenore half rose from her chair, as if about to fall at Sanin's feet... He held her back.

Frau Lenore! For God's sake! What are you?

She grabbed his hands convulsively.

Do you promise?

Frau Lenore, think why on earth I...

Do you promise? Don't you want me to die right there, now, in front of you?

Sanin is lost. For the first time in his life he had to deal with burning Italian blood.

I will do whatever you want! - he exclaimed. - I will talk to Fraulein Gemma ...

Frau Lenore cried out with joy.

Only I really don't know what the result might be...

Oh. don't give up, don't give up! - said Frau Lenore in an imploring voice, - you have already agreed! The result will probably be great. Anyway, I can't do anything anymore! She won't listen to me!

Did she declare to you her unwillingness to marry Mr. Klüber so emphatically? Sanin asked after a short silence. - Like a knife cut off! She is all in her father, in Giovan Battista! Trouble!

Bedovaya? is she?” Sanin repeated drawlingly.

Yes... yes... but she's also an angel. She will listen to you. Will you come, will you come soon? Oh my dear Russian friend! Frau Lenore got up impetuously from her chair and just as impetuously grabbed the head of Sanin, who was sitting in front of her. Accept mother's blessing - and give me water!

Sanin brought Madame Roselli a glass of water, gave her his word of honor that he would come immediately, escorted her up the stairs to the street - and, returning to his room, even clasped his hands and goggled his eyes.

"Here," he thought, "now life is spinning! And it's spinning so much that my head is spinning." He did not try to look inside himself, to understand what was happening there: confusion - and that's it! "It's been a day!" his lips involuntarily whispered.

Sanin's head really was spinning - and above all this whirlwind of various sensations, impressions, unspoken thoughts, the image of Gemma constantly hovered, that image that so indelibly etched itself into his memory on that warm, electrically shocked night, in that dark window, under the rays swarming stars!

Sanin approached Madame Roselli's house with hesitant steps. His heart was beating fast; he clearly felt and even heard how it was pushed into the ribs. What would he say to Gemma, how would he speak to her? He entered the house not through the candy store, but through the back porch. In the small front room he met Frau Lenore. She both rejoiced at him and was frightened.

I've been waiting, waiting for you," she said in a whisper, clasping his arm in turn with both hands. "Go into the garden; she is there.

Look, I'm counting on you!

Sanin went to the garden.

Gemma was sitting on a bench near the path, and from a large basket filled with cherries, she selected the ripest ones for a plate. The sun was low—it was already seven o'clock in the evening—and in the wide slanting rays with which it flooded Madame Roselli's little garden, there was more crimson than gold. From time to time, almost audibly and as if slowly, the leaves whispered, and belated bees buzzed abruptly, flying from flower to neighboring flower, and somewhere a dove cooed - monotonously and tirelessly. Gemma wore the same round hat she wore to Soden. She glanced at Sanin from under its curved edge and again leaned over to the basket.

Sanin approached Gemma, involuntarily shortening each step, and ... and ... And he could not find anything else to say to her, only to ask: why is she taking away the cherries?

Gemma did not immediately answer him.

Those who are more mature,” she said at last, “will go for jam, and those for stuffing pies. You know, we sell these round sugar pies. Having said these words, Gemma bowed her head even lower, and her right hand, with two cherries in her fingers, stopped in the air between the basket and the plate.

Can I sit next to you? Sanin asked.

You can.” Gemma shifted slightly on the bench.

Sanin placed himself beside her. "How to start?" he thought. But Gemma brought him out of the difficulty.

You fought a duel to-day,” she spoke with liveliness, and turned to him with all her beautiful, bashfully flushed face, “and what deep gratitude her eyes shone with! - And you are so calm? So there is no danger for you?

Have mercy! I was not in any danger. Everything went off very safely and harmlessly.

Gemma moved her finger right and left in front of her eyes... Also an Italian gesture.

Not! No! don't say it! You won't fool me! Pantaleone told me everything!

Find someone to trust! Did he compare me to a statue of a commander?

His expressions may be funny, but neither his feeling is funny, nor what you did today. And it's all because of me... for me. I will never forget this.

I assure you, Fraulein Gemma...

I won’t forget this,” she repeated with a pause, looked at him once more intently and turned away.

He could now see her thin, pure profile, and it seemed to him that he had never seen anything like it and had never experienced anything like what he felt at that moment. His soul was on fire.

"And my promise!" flashed through his mind.

Fraulein Gemma…” he began after a moment's hesitation.

She did not turn to him, she continued sorting the cherries, carefully taking hold of their tails with the ends of her fingers, carefully lifting the leaves ... But what a trusting caress sounded this one word: "what?"

Your mother didn't tell you anything... about...

To my account?

Gemma suddenly threw the cherries she had taken back into the basket.

Did she speak to you? she asked in turn.

What did she say to you?

She told me that you... that you suddenly decided to change... your previous intentions.

Gemma's head tilted again. She had disappeared completely under her hat: only her neck was visible, flexible and delicate, like the stem of a large flower.

What are the intentions?

Your intentions... regarding... the future arrangement of your life.

That is... Are you talking about Mr. Klüber?

Did your mother tell you that I don't want to be Mr. Klüber's wife?

Gemma moved over on the bench. The basket tipped, fell ... several cherries rolled onto the path. A minute passed...another...

Why did she tell you this? - I heard her voice.

Sanin still saw one of Gemma's necks. Her chest rose and fell faster than before.

What for? Your mother thought that since you and I became friends in a short time, one might say, and you had some confidence in me, I am in a position to give you useful advice - and you will listen to me.

Gemma's hands slipped softly to her knees... She began to sort through the folds of her dress.

What advice would you give me, monsieur Dimitri!? she asked after a while.

Sanin saw that Gemma's fingers were trembling on her knees... She even fingered the folds of her dress only to hide this trembling. He quietly laid his hand on those pale, quivering fingers.

Gemma,” he said, “why don't you look at me?

She instantly threw back her hat over her shoulder - and fixed her eyes on him, trusting and grateful as before. She waited for him to speak... But the sight of her face confused and seemed to blind him. The warm brilliance of the evening sun illuminated her young head - and the expression of this head was lighter and brighter than this brilliance itself.

I will listen to you, monsieur Dimitri, - she began, smiling a little and raising her eyebrows a little, - but what advice will you give me?

What advice? Sanin repeated. “You see, your mother thinks that Mr. Kluber’s refusal is only because he hasn’t shown any particular courage for three days....

Just because? said Gemma, bending down, picked up the basket and placed it beside her on the bench.

That... in general... to refuse him is imprudent of you; that this is such a step, all the consequences of which must be carefully weighed; that, finally, the very state of your affairs imposes certain duties on every member of your family...

It's all my mother's opinion," interrupted Gemma, "these are her words. This I know; but what is your opinion?

My? Sanin was silent. He felt something come under his throat and take away his breath. - I also believe, - he began with an effort ...

Gemma straightened up.

Too? You too?

Yes ... that is ... - Sanin could not, absolutely could not add a single word.

"Very well," said Gemma. basket ... - Mom hopes that I will listen to you ... Well? I might just listen to you.

But allow me, Fraulein Gemma, I would first like to know what reasons prompted you ...

I will listen to you,” repeated Gemma, and at the very moment her eyebrows were drawing closer, her cheeks were turning pale; she bit her lower lip. “You have done so much for me that I am obliged to do what you want; must fulfill your wish. I'll tell my mom... I'll think about it. Here she is, by the way, coming here.

Indeed, Frau Lenore appeared on the threshold of the door leading from the house to the garden. Impatience was making out her: she could not sit still. According to her calculation, Sanin should have finished his explanation with Gemma a long time ago, although his conversation with her did not last even a quarter of an hour.

No, no, no, for God's sake, don't say anything to her yet," Sanin said hurriedly, almost with fright. .. wait!

He squeezed Gemma's hand, jumped up from the bench - and, to Frau Lenore's great amazement, darted past her, lifting his hat, muttering something inaudible - and disappeared.

She approached her daughter.

Tell me, please, Gemma...

She suddenly got up and hugged her.

Dear mother, can you wait a little, baby... until tomorrow? Can you? And so that not a word until tomorrow? .. Ah! ..

She burst into sudden bright, for her most unexpected tears. This surprised Frau Lenore all the more, because the expression on Jemmin's face was far from sad, rather joyful.

What happened to you? - she asked. - You never cry with me - and suddenly ...

Nothing, Mom, nothing! just you wait. We both have to wait. Do not ask anything until tomorrow - and let's sort the cherries,

until the sun has set.

But will you be sensible?

Oh, I'm very sensible! Gemma shook her head significantly. She began tying small bunches of cherries, holding them high in front of her blushing face. She did not wipe her tears: they dried up on their own.

Sanin almost ran back to his apartment. He felt, he realized that only there, only alone with himself, would he finally find out what was wrong with him, what was the matter with him? And indeed: before he had time to enter his room, before he had time to sit down in front of the writing table, when, leaning on this same table with both hands and pressing both palms to his face, he exclaimed mournfully and muffledly: "I love her, I love her madly!" - and all internally blushed like coal, from which the accrued layer of dead ash was suddenly blown away. A moment ... and already he was unable to understand how he could sit next to her ... with her! - and talk to her, and not feel that he adores the very edge of her clothes, that he is ready, as young people say, "to die at her feet." The last meeting in the garden decided everything. Now, when he thought of her - she no longer seemed to him with scattered curls, in the radiance of stars - he saw her sitting on the bench, saw how she threw off her hat at once and looked at him so trustingly ... and trembling and the thirst for love ran through all his veins. He remembered the rose he had been carrying in his pocket for the third day now: he grabbed it and pressed it to his lips with such feverish force that he involuntarily grimaced in pain. Now he did not reason about anything, did not think anything, did not calculate and did not foresee; he separated himself from the whole past, he jumped forward: from the dull shore of his lonely, bachelor life he plunged into that cheerful, ebullient, powerful stream - and grief is not enough for him, and he does not want to know where he will take him out, and whether he will break him him about the rock! These are no longer those quiet jets of Uland's romance that recently lulled him to sleep ... These are strong, unstoppable waves! They fly and jump forward - and he flies with them.

He took a sheet of paper - and without a blot, almost with a stroke of the pen, wrote the following:

"Dear Gemma!

You know what advice I have taken upon myself to give you, you know what your mother wants and what she asked me to do, but what you do not know and what I am obliged to tell you now is that I love you, love you. with all the passion of a heart that fell in love for the first time! This fire broke out in me suddenly, but with such force that I cannot find words!! When your mother came to me and asked me - he was still smoldering in me - otherwise, as an honest person, I probably would have refused to fulfill her order ... The very confession that I am making to you now is the confession of an honest person. You must know who you are dealing with - there must be no misunderstanding between us. You see that I cannot give you any advice... I love you, I love you, I love you - and I have nothing else - neither in my mind nor in my heart!!

Dm. Sanin".

Having folded and sealed this note, Sanin wanted to call the waiter and send it with him ... No! - so awkward ... Through Emil? But going to the store, looking for him there between other commies is awkward too. Moreover, it was already night in the yard - and he, perhaps, had already left the store. Reflecting thus, Sanin, however, put on his hat and went out into the street; turned around a corner, around another - and, to his indescribable joy, saw Emil before him. With a bag under his arm, with a roll of paper in his hand, the young enthusiast hurried home.

"It's not for nothing that they say that every lover has a star," Sanin thought, and called Emil.

He turned around and immediately ran towards him.

Sanin did not let him get excited, handed him the note, explained to him to whom and how to give it... Emil listened attentively.

For no one to see? he asked, giving his face a significant and mysterious expression: we, they say, understand what the whole point is!

Yes, my friend,” Sanin said, and was a little embarrassed, but he patted Emil on the cheek ... “And if there is an answer ... You will bring me an answer, won’t you? I will stay at home.

Don't worry about that! Emil whispered cheerfully, ran away and nodded to him once more as he ran.

Sanin returned home - and, without lighting the candles, threw himself on the sofa, put his hands behind his head and indulged in those sensations of newly conscious love, which there is nothing to describe: whoever experienced them knows their languor and sweetness; whoever has not experienced them, you will not interpret them.

The door opened and Emil's head appeared.

He brought it, - he said in a whisper, - here it is, the answer is something!

He showed and raised a folded piece of paper over his head.

Sanin jumped up from the sofa and grabbed it from Emil's hands. The passion in him played out too strongly: he was not up to secrecy now, not up to respect for decorum - even in front of this boy, her brother. He would be ashamed of it, he would force himself - if he could!

He went to the window - and by the light of a street lamp that stood in front of the house, he read the following lines:

"I beg you, I beg you - do not come to us all tomorrow, do not show yourself. I need this, I absolutely need it - and everything will be decided there. I know you will not refuse me, because ...

Sanin read this note twice - oh, how touchingly sweet and beautiful her handwriting seemed to him! - he thought a little and, turning to Emil, who, wanting to make it clear what a modest young man he was, stood facing the wall and dug his fingernail in it, - loudly called him by name.

Emil immediately ran up to Sanin.

What do you order?

Listen buddy...

Monsieur Dimitri,” Emil interrupted him in a plaintive voice, “why don’t you tell me: you?

Sanin laughed.

OK then. Listen, my friend (Emil jumped slightly with pleasure), - listen: there, you understand, there you will say that everything will be done exactly (Emil pursed his lips and shook his head importantly), - and yourself ... What are you doing tomorrow?

I? What am I doing? What do you want me to do?

If you can, come to me in the morning, early, and we will walk around the outskirts of Frankfurt until the evening ... Do you want?

Emil jumped up again.

Come on, what could be better in the world? Walking with you is just a miracle! I will definitely come!

What if they don't let you go?

Let go!

Listen... Don't say there that I called you for the whole day.

Why say? Yes, I'm leaving! What a trouble! Emil kissed Sanin warmly and ran away. And Sanin paced the room for a long time and went to bed late. He indulged in the same terrible and sweet sensations, the same joyful fading before a new life. Sanin was very pleased that he had the idea of ​​inviting Emil to the next day; he looked like his sister. "It will remind her," thought Sanin.

But most of all he was surprised by this: how could he have been different yesterday than he is today? It seemed to him that he "forever" loved Gemma - and loved her exactly as he loved her today.

The next day, at eight o'clock in the morning, Emil, with Tartaglia on the fold, he came to Sanin. Had he descended from Germanic parents, he could not have shown greater accuracy. At home, he lied: he said that he would take a walk with Sanin until breakfast, and then he would go to the store. While Sanin was dressing, Emil started talking to him, though rather hesitantly, about Gemma, about her quarrel with Mr. Klüber; but Sanin sternly kept silent in reply, and Emil, showing that he understood why this important point should not be lightly touched upon, did not return to it - and only occasionally assumed a concentrated and even stern expression.

After drinking coffee, both friends set off - on foot, of course - to Gausen, a small village not far from Frankfurt and surrounded by forests. The whole chain of mountains of Taunus is visible from there, at a glance. The weather was great; the sun shone and warmed, but did not burn; a fresh wind rustled briskly in the green leaves; on the ground, in small spots, the shadows of high round clouds glided smoothly and quickly. The young people soon got out of the city and walked cheerfully and cheerfully along the smoothly swept road. We went into the forest and got lost there for a long time; then we had a very hearty breakfast in a village tavern; then they climbed mountains, admired the views, threw stones from above and clapped their hands, watching how these stones jumped funny and strange, like rabbits, until a man passing below, invisible to them, scolded them with a clear and strong voice; then they lay spread out on a short dry moss of a yellow-violet color; then they drank beer in another tavern, then they ran around, jumped on a bet: who is next? They opened the echo and talked to it, sang, called around, fought, broke branches, decorated their hats with fern branches and even danced. Tartaglia, as far as he could and knew how, participated in all these activities: he did not throw stones, but he himself rolled head over heels after them, howled when young people sang, and even drank beer, although with visible disgust: a student taught him this art to which it once belonged. However, he obeyed Emil badly - not like his master Pantaleone, and when Emil ordered him to "talk" or "sneeze", he only wagged his tail and stuck out his tongue with a tube. The young people also talked among themselves. At the beginning of the walk, Sanin, being older and therefore more reasonable, started talking about what fate is, or the predestination of fate, and what it means and what is the vocation of a person; but the conversation soon took a less serious direction. Emil began to ask his friend and patron about Russia, about how they fight duels there, and whether the women there are beautiful, and how soon it is possible to learn the Russian language, and what did he feel when the officer aimed at him? And Sanin, in turn, asked Emil about his father, about his mother, in general about their family affairs, trying in every possible way not to mention Gemma's name - and thinking only about her. As a matter of fact, he did not even think about her - but about tomorrow, about that mysterious tomorrow that would bring him unknown, unprecedented happiness! Just like a veil, a thin, light veil hangs, weakly swaying, before his mental gaze - and behind that veil he feels. .. feels the presence of a young, motionless, divine face with a gentle smile on his lips and strictly, feignedly strictly lowered eyelashes. And this face to me is the face of Gemma, this is the face of happiness itself! And now his hour has finally come, the veil has risen, the mouth opens, the eyelashes rise - the deity saw him - and here already light, like from the sun, and joy, and endless delight !! He thinks about this tomorrow - and his soul again joyfully freezes in the throbbing anguish of the incessantly reborn expectation!

And nothing is hindered by this expectation, this longing. She accompanies his every movement and does not interfere with anything. She does not prevent him from having a great dinner in the third tavern with Emil - and only occasionally, like a short lightning, the thought flashes in him that - if anyone in the world knew??!! This melancholy does not prevent him from playing leapfrog with Emil after dinner. This game takes place on a free green meadow ... and what amazement, what embarrassment of Sanin, when, to the ardent barking of Tartaglia, deftly spreading his legs and flying like a bird over the crouching Emil, he suddenly sees in front of him, on the very border of the green meadow, two officers , in which he immediately recognizes his yesterday's opponent and his second, Mr. von Donhof and von Richter! Each of them inserted a piece of glass into his eye and looked at him and grinned... Sanin falls to his feet, turns away, hurriedly puts on his discarded overcoat, says a curt word to Emil, who also puts on his jacket, and both leave immediately. They returned late to Frankfurt.

They will scold me,” Emil said to Sanin, saying goodbye to him, “well, it doesn’t matter! But I had such a wonderful, wonderful day! Returning to your hotel. Sanin found a note from Gemma. She made an appointment with him - the next day, at seven o'clock in the morning, in one of the public gardens that surround Frankfurt on all sides. How his heart trembled! How glad he was that he obeyed her so implicitly! And, my God, what did it promise ... what did this unprecedented, unique, impossible - and undoubted tomorrow promise! He glared at Gemma's note. The long graceful tail of the letter G, the first letter of her name, standing at the end of the sheet, reminded him of her beautiful fingers, her hand ... He thought that he had never touched this hand with his lips ...

“Italian women,” he thought, “contrary to the rumor about them, are bashful and strict ... And Gemma is even more so! The queen ... a goddess ... virgin and pure marble ... But the time will come - and it is not far ... "

There was a happy man in Frankfurt that night... He was sleeping; but he could say to himself in the words of a poet:

I sleep... but my sensitive heart does not sleep...

It beat as easily as a moth beating its wings, clinging to a flower and bathed in the summer sun.

Ivan Turgenev - Spring Waters - 01, read text

See also Turgenev Ivan - Prose (stories, poems, novels ...):

Spring Waters - 02
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