“Spring waters.

Very briefly, an aging lonely landowner recalls how in his youth, while traveling around Europe, he fell in love with a beautiful Italian woman, wanted to marry her, but was seduced by a rich married lady and lost his beloved.

He returned home at two o'clock in the morning, tired and full of disgust for life. He was 52 years old, and he perceived his life as a calm, smooth sea, in the depths of which monsters lurked: “all everyday ailments, illnesses, sorrows, madness, poverty, blindness.” Every minute he expected one of them to capsize his fragile boat. The life of this rich but very lonely man was empty, worthless and disgusting. To escape from these thoughts, he began to sort through old papers, yellowed love letters and found among them a small octagonal box in which a small garnet cross was kept. He reminded Dmitry Pavlovich Sanin of the past.

In the summer of 1840, when Sanin turned 22, he traveled around Europe, squandering a small inheritance from a distant relative. Returning home, he stopped in Frankfurt. The stagecoach to Berlin was leaving late, and Sanin decided to take a walk around the city. Finding himself on a small street, Dmitry went into the “Giovanni Roselli Italian Pastry Shop” to drink a glass of lemonade. Before he could enter the hall, a girl ran out from the next room and began to beg Sanin for help. It turned out that the girl’s younger brother, a boy of about fourteen named Emil, had lost consciousness. Only the old servant Pantaleone was at home, and the girl was in a panic.

Sanin rubbed the boy with brushes, and he, to the joy of his sister, came to his senses. While saving Emil, Dmitry looked at the girl, marveling at her amazing classical beauty. At this time a lady entered the room, accompanied by a doctor, for whom a maid had been sent. The lady was the mother of Emilio and the girl. She was so happy about her son’s salvation that she invited Sanin to dinner.

In the evening, Dmitry was greeted as a hero and savior. He learned that the mother of the family's name was Leonora Roselli. Twenty years ago, she and her husband, Giovanni Battista Roselli, left Italy to open a pastry shop in Frankfurt. The beauty's name was Gemma. And their faithful servant Pantaleone, a funny little old man, was a former opera tenor. Another full member of the family was the poodle Tartaglia. To his disappointment, Sanin learned that Gemma was engaged to Mr. Karl Klüber, the head of a department of one of the large stores.

Sanin stayed up late with them and was late for the stagecoach. He had little money left, and he asked for a loan from his Berlin friend. While waiting for a response letter, Dmitry was forced to stay in the city for several days. In the morning, Emil visited Sanin, accompanied by Karl Klüber. This prominent and tall young man, impeccable, handsome and pleasant in all respects, thanked Dmitry on behalf of his bride, invited him on a pleasure walk to Soden and left. Emil asked permission to stay and soon became friends with Sanin.

Dmitry spent the whole day at Roselli's, admiring the beauty of Gemma, and even managed to work as a salesman in a pastry shop. Sanin went to the hotel late in the evening, taking with him “the image of a young girl, now laughing, now thoughtful, now calm and even indifferent, but always attractive.”

A few words should be said about Sanin. He was a stately and slender young man with slightly blurred facial features, blue eyes and golden hair, the scion of a sedate noble family. Dmitry combined freshness, health and an infinitely gentle character.

In the morning there was a walk to Soden - a small picturesque town half an hour's drive from Frankfurt, organized by Herr Klüber with truly German pedantry. We dined at the best tavern in Soden. Gemma got bored with the walk. To unwind, she wanted to have lunch not in a secluded gazebo, which her pedantic fiancé had already ordered, but on the common terrace. A company of officers from the Mainz garrison was dining at the next table. One of them, being heavily drunk, approached Gemma, “slammed the glass” for her health and impudently grabbed a rose lying near her plate.

This act offended the girl. Instead of interceding for the bride, Herr Klüber hastily paid and, loudly indignant, took her to the hotel. Sanin approached the officer, called him impudent, took the rose and asked for a duel. Emil was delighted by Dmitry's action, and Kluber pretended not to notice anything. All the way back, Gemma listened to the groom’s self-confident rantings and in the end began to be ashamed of him.

The next morning, Sanin was visited by Baron von Donhof's second. Dmitry had no acquaintances in Frankfurt, and he had to invite Pantaleone to be his seconds. He took up his duties with extraordinary zeal and destroyed all attempts at reconciliation. It was decided to shoot with pistols from twenty steps.

Sanin spent the rest of the day with Gemma. Late in the evening, when Dmitry was leaving the pastry shop, Gemma called him to the window and gave him the same, already withered, rose. She awkwardly leaned over and leaned on Sanin's shoulders. At that moment, a hot whirlwind swept down the street, “like a flock of huge birds,” and the young man realized that he was in love.

The duel took place at ten o'clock in the morning. Baron von Dongoff deliberately fired to the side, admitting his guilt. The duelists shook hands and dispersed, and Sanin was ashamed for a long time - everything turned out very childish. At the hotel it turned out that Pantaleone had blabbed about the duel to Gemma.

In the afternoon, Sanina visited Frau Leone. Gemma wanted to break off the engagement, although the Roselli family was practically ruined, and only this marriage could save her. Frau Leone asked Dmitry to influence Gemma and persuade her not to refuse her groom. Sanin agreed and even tried to talk to the girl, but the persuasion backfired - Dmitry finally fell in love and realized that Gemma loved him too. After a secret date in the city garden and mutual confessions, he had no choice but to propose to her.

Frau Leone greeted this news with tears, but after asking the newly-minted groom about his financial situation, she calmed down and resigned herself. Sanin owned a small estate in the Tula province, which he urgently needed to sell in order to invest in a confectionery. Dmitry already wanted to go to Russia, when he suddenly met his former classmate on the street. This fat fellow named Ippolit Sidorich Polozov was married to a very beautiful and rich woman from the merchant class. Sanin approached him with a request to buy the estate. Polozov replied that his wife decides all financial issues, and offered to take Sanin to her.

Having said goodbye to his bride, Dmitry went to Wiesbaden, where Mrs. Polozova was treated with water. Marya Nikolaevna really turned out to be a beauty with heavy brown hair and somewhat vulgar facial features. She immediately began to court Sanin. It turned out that Polozov was a “convenient husband” who did not interfere in his wife’s affairs and gave her complete freedom. They had no children, and all Polozov’s interests converged on tasty, plentiful food and a luxurious life.

The couple made a bet. Ippolit Sidorich was sure that this time he would not get his wife - Sanin was very much in love. Unfortunately, Polozov lost, although his wife had to work hard. During the numerous dinners, walks and visits to the theater that Mrs. Polozova arranged for Sanin, he met von Dongoff, the mistress’s previous lover. Dmitry cheated on his fiancee three days after arriving in Wiesbaden on a horseback ride organized by Marya Nikolaevna.

Sanin had the conscience to admit to Gemma that he had cheated on him. After that, he completely submitted to Polozova, became her slave and followed her until she drank him dry and threw him away like an old rag. In memory of Gemma, Sanin only had a cross. He still did not understand why he left the girl, “so tenderly and passionately loved by him, for a woman whom he did not love at all.”

After an evening of memories, Sanin got ready and went to Frankfurt in the middle of winter. He wanted to find Gemma and ask for forgiveness, but he couldn’t even find the street on which the pastry shop stood thirty years ago. In the Frankfurt address book he came across the name of Major von Donhof. He told Sanin that Gemma had gotten married and gave her address in New York. Dmitry sent her letter and received an answer. Gemma wrote that she was very happily married and was grateful to Sanin for upsetting her first engagement. She gave birth to five children. Pantaleone and Frau Leone died, and Emilio died fighting for Garibaldi. The letter contained a photograph of Gemma's daughter, who looked very much like her mother. The girl was engaged. Sanin sent her a “garnet cross set in a magnificent pearl necklace” as a gift, and then he himself got ready to go to America.

May 5, 2016

Works about love are always relevant. Especially those created by outstanding masters of words. 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 still excites readers to this day.

For Dmitry Sanin, a 52-year-old man, a small garnet cross meant a lot. It served as a vivid reminder of the past, and also of 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 pastry shop. He wanted to drink lemonade here. However, Dmitry suddenly became a savior for a child who suddenly fainted. The main character fell in love at first sight with a girl who was this boy’s sister. 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 was a merchant, whose marriage should save Jenna (that was the name of Sanin’s beloved) and her family from financial ruin.

Quarrel with an officer

The main character went for a walk with Jenna, her brother and fiance. Afterwards, they went to some establishment to have a bite to eat. There were officers 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 his relationship to this girl. The main character replied that he was no one, after which he left his business card to the offender.

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Failed duel

The next morning, this officer’s second came to Sanin’s hotel. Dmitry agreed with him about a duel. Sanin, having decided to shoot himself, thought about how his life suddenly turned around. Just recently he was carefree traveling around Europe, but now he could die in an instant. It's not that the main character was afraid of death, but rather, he didn't want to lose his life like that, falling in love. On the night before the duel, Dmitry saw Jenna again, and his feelings for her flared up even more.

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

Declaration of love

Talking with his beloved, Dmitry told her that her mother was very worried, but he asked the girl not to change her decision for a while. 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 an answer: she asks Sanin not to come to her tomorrow. After some time, the girl decided to make an appointment with the main character 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 returning to Russia to sell the estate. This is not a quick or simple matter, 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 the estate

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

Meeting a friend's wife

Turgenev describes his acquaintance with his friend’s wife in detail (“Spring Waters”). The 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 just a beautiful woman, but also very smart. Sanin's proposal interested her, as did the main character 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 discourtesy might cause the deal to fall through.

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

Fatal connection (summary)

Turgenev ("Spring Waters") was certainly interested in whether the main character could resist temptation. Unfortunately, he did not pass 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 it all. While walking, Dmitry is left alone with his friend’s wife. It should be noted that the previous day, which they spent together, somewhat clouded the protagonist’s mind. He had already begun to forget why he came. Meanwhile, the insidious woman tries to seduce him, which she ultimately succeeds in. Sanin forgets his beloved and leaves with his friend's wife for Paris.

And happiness was so close...

However, this affair with a rich and powerful woman did not lead to anything good. We will not describe its brief content. Turgenev (“Spring Waters”) was not interested in the details of this connection, but in how it influenced the future fate of the protagonist. Dmitry Sanin was very embarrassed to return to Jenna. And now, having made a fortune and wise with experience, the main character finds himself again in Frankfurt. He notices that the city has changed over the years. The familiar pastry shop is no longer in its old location. Sanin decides to renew old connections. To this end, he turns for help to the officer to whom he once assigned a duel.

Jenna's fate

The officer informs 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 main character get the address of his former lover. And now, many years later, Dmitry writes a long letter to Jenna, not hoping to receive her forgiveness. He just wants to find out how she lives. Waiting for an answer is very painful, since the main character does not know whether 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 some time Dmitry Sanin receives a letter from his former lover. She tells him that she is happy with her husband and that she has children. The woman attaches to the letter a photo of her daughter, who resembles young Jenna, the one whom Dmitry loved so much and whom he so foolishly abandoned. Turgenev concludes “Spring Waters” with these events. The summary of the story, of course, gives only a general idea of it. We also suggest that you familiarize yourself with the analysis of the work. This will help clarify some points and 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-memory. It should be noted that in the late works of Ivan Sergeevich the following type of hero predominates: a mature man with a life full of loneliness.

Dmitry Pavlovich Sanin, the main character of the work that interests us, also belongs to this type (its summary is presented above). Turgenev (“Spring Waters”) was always interested in the inner world of man. And this time the author’s main goal was to depict the drama of the main character. The work is characterized by an interest in character development, 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 together can we understand the ambiguity of the images created by the author.

Turgenev created such an interesting work - “Spring Waters”. The summary (briefly), as you understand, does not convey its artistic value. We only described the plot and conducted a superficial analysis. We hope that you would like to take a closer look at this story.

Current page: 1 (book has 12 pages in total)

Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev

Spring waters

Happy years

Happy Days -

Like spring waters

They rushed by!

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 a chair near the fireplace, covered his face with both hands.

Never before had he felt such fatigue - physical and mental. He spent the whole evening with pleasant ladies and educated men; some of the ladies were beautiful, almost all the men were distinguished by their intelligence and talents - he himself spoke 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 cried from melancholy, from boredom, from irritation: an acrid and burning bitterness, like the bitterness of wormwood, filled his entire soul. Something persistently hateful, 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 of sleep: he knew that he would not fall asleep.

He began to think... slowly, sluggishly and angrily.

He thought about the vanity, the uselessness, the vulgar falsehood of everything human. All ages gradually passed before his mind's eye (he himself had recently passed his 52nd year) - and not one found mercy in front of him. Everywhere there is the same eternal pouring from empty to empty, the same pounding of water, the same half conscientious, half conscious self-delusion - no matter what the child enjoys, as long as he doesn’t cry - and then suddenly, out of the blue, it will come old age - and with it that constantly growing, all-corroding and undermining fear of death... and crash into the abyss! It’s good if life plays out like this! Otherwise, perhaps, before the end, weakness and suffering will follow, like rust on iron... Covered with stormy waves, as the poets describe, he imagined the sea of life; No; he imagined this sea to be imperturbably smooth, motionless and transparent to the very dark bottom; he himself sits in a small, rickety boat - and there, on this dark, muddy bottom, like huge fish, ugly monsters are barely visible: all everyday 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 clearly, more and more disgustingly clearly... Another minute - and the boat propped up by him will capsize! But then it seems to fade again, it moves away, sinks to the bottom - and it lies there, slightly moving its reach... But the appointed day will come - and it will capsize the boat.

He shook his head, jumped up from his chair, walked around the room a couple of times, sat down at the desk and, opening one drawer after another, began rummaging 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 just wanted to get rid of the thoughts that were tormenting him through some external activity. Having opened several letters at random (one of them contained a dried flower tied with a faded ribbon), he just shrugged his shoulders and, looking at the fireplace, threw them aside, probably intending to burn all this unnecessary trash. Hastily thrusting his hands into one box and then into another, he suddenly opened his eyes wide and, slowly pulling out a small octagonal box of an antique cut, slowly lifted its lid. In the box, under a double layer of yellowed cotton paper, was a small garnet cross.

He stood up and, returning to the fireplace, sat down again in the chair - and again covered his face with his hands... “Why today? exactly today?" - he thought - and he remembered a lot of things that had happened long ago.

This is what he remembered...

But you must first say his first name, patronymic and last name. His name was Sanin, Dmitry Pavlovich.

Here's what he remembered:

It was the summer of 1840. Sanin was twenty-two years old, and he 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 ended up with several thousand rubles - and he decided to live them abroad, before entering the service, before finally taking upon himself that government yoke, without which a secure existence had become unthinkable for him. Sanin carried out his intention exactly and managed it so skillfully that on the day of his arrival in Frankfurt he had exactly enough money to get to St. Petersburg. In 1840 there were very few railways; tourists rode around in stagecoaches. Sanin took a seat in the Beywagen; but the stagecoach did not leave until eleven o'clock in the evening. There was a lot 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 Danneker’s Ariadne, which he liked little, visited Goethe’s house, of whose works he, however, read only “Werther” - and that in a French translation; I 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 its few houses he saw a sign: “Giovanni Roselli’s Italian Pastry Shop” announcing 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 the gray cat squinted and purred, moving its paws on a high wicker chair near the window, and, blushing brightly in the slanting ray of the evening sun, a large ball of red wool lay on the floor next to an overturned carved wooden basket. A vague noise was heard in the next room. Sanin stood there and, letting the bell on the door ring until the end, said, raising his voice: “Is there no one here?” At the same instant, the door from the next room opened - and Sanin had to be amazed.

A girl of about nineteen, with her dark curls scattered over her bare shoulders and her bare arms outstretched, rushed into the pastry shop and, seeing Sanin, immediately rushed to him, grabbed his hand and pulled him along, saying in a breathless voice: “Hurry, hurry, come here, save me!” Not out of unwillingness to obey, but simply from an excess of amazement, Sanin did not immediately follow the girl - and seemed to stop in his tracks: he had never seen such a beauty in his life. She turned around - and with such despair in her voice, in her gaze, in the movement of her clenched hand, convulsively raised to her pale cheek, she said: “Yes, go, go!” - that he immediately rushed after her through the open door.

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

The girl screamed and rushed towards him.

- He died, he died! - she cried, - now he was sitting here, talking to me - and suddenly he fell and became motionless... My God! can't you help? And no mother! Pantaleone, Pantaleone, what about the doctor? “- she suddenly added in Italian: “Have you gone to see the doctor?”

“Signora, I didn’t go, I sent Louise,” a hoarse voice came from behind the door, “and a little old man in a purple tailcoat with black buttons, a high white tie, short nankeen trousers and blue woolen stockings entered the room, hobbling on crooked legs. His tiny face completely disappeared under a whole mass of gray, iron-colored hair. Rising steeply upward on all sides and falling back in disheveled braids, they gave the old man’s figure a resemblance to a tufted hen - a resemblance all the more striking because under their dark gray mass all that could be seen was a pointed nose and round yellow eyes.

“Louise is quickly running away, but I can’t run,” the old man continued in Italian, one by one raising his flat, gouty 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 will die for now! – the girl exclaimed and extended her hands to Sanin. - Oh my lord, oh mein Herr! Can't you help?

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

Although Sanin did not have the slightest idea about medicine, he knew one thing for sure: blows do not happen to fourteen-year-old boys.

“It’s a fainting spell, not a blow,” he said, turning to Pantaleone. - Do you have 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 have brushes!

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

- Okay... Benone! Shouldn't you pour water on your head?

- No... after; Now go quickly and get the brushes.

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

Sanin quickly took off the coat from the lying boy, unbuttoned the collar, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt - and, armed with a brush, began scrubbing his chest and arms with all his might. Pantaleone just as diligently rubbed his other head brush over his boots and trousers. The girl threw herself on her knees near the sofa and, grabbing her head with both hands, without blinking a single eyelid, she glared at her brother’s face. Sanin rubbed it himself, and he himself looked sideways at her. My God! what a beauty she was!

Her nose was somewhat large, but beautiful, aquiline, and her upper lip was slightly shaded by fluff; but the complexion, even and matte, almost ivory or milky amber, the 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 fear and grief darkened their shine... Sanin involuntarily remembered the wonderful land from which he was returning... Yes, he had never seen anything like it in Italy! The girl was breathing rarely and unevenly; It seemed that every time she waited, would her brother start breathing for her?

Sanin continued to rub him; but he was looking at more than one girl. Pantaleone's original figure also attracted his attention. The old man was completely weak and out of breath; with each blow of the brush he jumped up and groaned shrilly, and the huge tufts of hair, soaked in sweat, swayed ponderously from side to side, like the roots of a large plant washed away 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 at that moment the girl’s face changed. Her eyebrows raised, her eyes became even larger and shone with joy...

Sanin looked around... Color appeared on the young man’s face; the eyelids moved... the nostrils twitched. He sucked in air through his still clenched teeth and sighed...

“Emil!..” the girl shouted. - Emilio mio!

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

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

- Emil! What's happened? Emil! – was heard behind the door – and a neatly dressed lady with silver-gray hair and a dark face entered the room with nimble steps. An elderly man followed her; the maid's head flashed behind his shoulders.

The girl ran towards them.

“He’s saved, mom, he’s alive!” – she exclaimed, frantically hugging the lady who entered.

- What is it? - she repeated. – I’m returning... and suddenly I meet Mr. Doctor and Louise...

The girl began to tell what had happened, and the doctor approached the patient, who was more and more coming to his senses - and still continued to smile: it was as if he was beginning to be ashamed of the alarm he had caused.

“I see, you rubbed him 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, rolled his eyes at her - and blushed...

It occurred to Sanin that he was becoming superfluous; he went out to the candy store. But before he had time to grab 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’m not stopping you, but you must definitely come to us this evening, we are so obliged to you - 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...

“But I’m leaving for Berlin today,” Sanin began to stutter.

“You’ll still have time,” the girl objected briskly. – Come to us in an hour for a cup of chocolate. Are you promising? And I need to see him again! Will you come?

What could Sanin do?

“I’ll come,” he answered.

The beauty quickly shook his hand, fluttered out - and he found himself on the street.

When Sanin returned to Roselli's pastry shop an hour and a half later, he was received there like family. Emilio sat on the same sofa on which he had been rubbed; the doctor prescribed him medicine and recommended “great caution in experiencing sensations,” since the subject was of a nervous temperament and prone to heart disease. He had fainted before; but never had the attack been so long and strong. However, the doctor announced that all danger had passed. Emil was dressed, as befits a convalescent, in a spacious dressing gown; his mother wrapped a blue woolen scarf 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, stood a huge porcelain coffee pot filled with fragrant chocolate, surrounded by cups, decanters of syrup, biscuits and rolls, even flowers; six thin wax candles burned in two antique silver candlesticks; on one side of the sofa, the Voltaire chair opened its soft embrace - and Sanin was seated in this very chair. All the inhabitants of the pastry shop with whom he had to meet that day were present, not excluding the poodle Tartaglia and the cat; everyone seemed incredibly happy; the poodle even sneezed with pleasure; one cat was still coy and squinting. Sanin was forced to explain who he was from, where he came from, and what his name was; when he said that he was Russian, both ladies were a little surprised and even gasped - and then, with one voice, they announced that he spoke German perfectly; 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 never expected that a Russian surname could be so easily pronounced. I also really liked his name: “Dimitri”. The older lady remarked that in her youth she had heard a wonderful 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 initiated him into all the details of their own lives. It was the mother, the lady with gray hair, who spoke most. Sanin learned from her that her name was Leonora Roselli; that she was left a widow by her husband, Giovanni Battista Roselli, who settled in Frankfurt twenty-five years ago as a pastry chef; that Giovanni Battista was from Vicenza, and a very good, although a little hot-tempered and arrogant man, and a Republican at that! At these words, Mrs. Roselli pointed to his portrait, painted in oils and hanging over the sofa. It must be assumed that the painter - “also a Republican!”, as Ms. Roselli noted with a sigh - was not quite able to grasp the resemblance, for in the portrait the late Giovanni Battista was some kind of gloomy and stern brigant - like Rinaldo Rinaldini! Mrs. 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 her long stay in Germany made her almost completely German. Then she added, shaking her head sadly, that all she had left was this: this daughter yes there you go this son (she pointed her finger at them one by one); that the daughter’s name is Gemma, and the son’s name is Emilius; that they are both very good and obedient children - especially Emilio... (“Am I not obedient?” - the daughter said here; “Oh, you are also a Republican!” - the mother answered); 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 that, after all, thank God, you can still live!

Gemma listened to her mother - and now chuckled, now sighed, now stroked her on the shoulder, now shook her finger at her, now glanced at Sanin; Finally she stood up, hugged and kissed her mother on the neck - “on her darling”, which made her laugh a lot and even squeal. Pantaleone was also introduced to Sanin. It turned out that he had once been an opera singer, for baritone roles, but had long since stopped his theatrical studies and was in the Roselli family something between a friend of the house and a servant. Despite his 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 spicchebubbio!” – he called almost every German. He pronounced the Italian language perfectly - for he was from Sinigaglia, where one hears “lingua toscana in bocca romana!” . Emilio apparently basked and indulged in the pleasant sensations of a man who had just escaped danger or was recovering; and, besides, one could notice from everything that his family spoiled him. He shyly thanked Sanin, but, however, leaned more on 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 bringing him another - and there was no way to refuse! He soon felt at home: time flew by with incredible speed. He had to talk 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 weak concept of our vast and distant homeland; Mrs. Roselli, or, as she was more often called, Frau Lenore, even plunged Sanin into amazement with the question: does the famous ice house in St. Petersburg, built in the last century, still exist, about which she recently read such an interesting article in one of her books late husband: “Bellezze delle arti”? And in response to Sanin’s exclamation: “Do you really think that there is never summer in Russia?!” - Frau Lenore objected that this is how she still imagined Russia: eternal snow, everyone wears fur coats and everyone is military - but the hospitality is extraordinary, and all the peasants are very obedient! Sanin tried to provide her and her daughter with more accurate information. When the talk 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 ado and, accompanying himself with two fingers of his right and three (thumb, middle and little fingers) of his left, sang in a thin nasal tenor, first “Sarafan”, then “On the 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 of “Sarafan” and especially: “On the pavement street” (sur une ruà pavee une jeune fille allait à l"eau - he conveyed the meaning of the original in this way) - could not instill in his listeners a high concept of Russian poetry, he first recited, then translated, then sang Pushkin’s: “I remember a wonderful moment,” set to music by Glinka, the minor verses of which he slightly distorted.Then the ladies were delighted - Frau Lenore even discovered in the Russian language an amazing similarity with the Italian "A moment" - "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 I'll let you sing something: they didn't bother to fix it either. Frau Lenore sat down at the piano and, together with Gemma, sang a few duttinos and stornellos. The mother once had a good contralto; her daughter's voice was somewhat weak, but pleasant.

Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev

Spring waters

Happy years

Happy Days -

Like spring waters

They rushed by!

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 a chair near the fireplace, covered his face with both hands.

He began to think... slowly, sluggishly and angrily.

This is what he remembered...

But you must first say his first name, patronymic and last name. His name was Sanin, Dmitry Pavlovich.

Here's what he remembered:

The girl screamed and rushed towards him.

“Louise is quickly running away, but I can’t run,” the old man continued in Italian, one by one raising his flat, gouty 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 will die for now! – the girl exclaimed and extended her hands to Sanin. - Oh my lord, oh mein Herr! Can't you help?

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

Although Sanin did not have the slightest idea about medicine, he knew one thing for sure: blows do not happen to fourteen-year-old boys.

“It’s a fainting spell, not a blow,” he said, turning to Pantaleone. - Do you have

Happy years

Happy Days -

Like spring waters

They rushed by!

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 a chair near the fireplace, covered his face with both hands. Never before had he felt such fatigue - physical and mental. He spent the whole evening with pleasant ladies and educated men; some of the ladies were beautiful, almost all the men were distinguished by their intelligence and talents - he himself spoke 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 cried from melancholy, from boredom, from irritation: an acrid and burning bitterness, like the bitterness of wormwood, filled his entire soul. Something persistently 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 of sleep: he knew that he would not fall asleep.

He began to think... slowly, sluggishly and angrily.

He thought about the vanity, the uselessness, the vulgar falsehood of everything human. All ages gradually passed before his mind's eye (he himself had recently passed his 52nd year) - and not one found mercy in front of him. Everywhere there is the same eternal pouring from empty to empty, the same pounding of water, the same half conscientious, half conscious self-delusion - whatever the child enjoys, as long as he doesn’t cry, and then suddenly, out of the blue, old age will come - and along with it that constantly growing, all-corroding and undermining fear of death... and crashed into the abyss! It’s good if life plays out like this! Otherwise, perhaps, before the end, weakness and suffering will fall like rust on iron... Covered with stormy waves, as the poets describe, he imagined the sea of life - no; he imagined this sea to be imperturbably smooth, motionless and transparent to the very dark bottom; he himself sits in a small, rickety boat - and there, on this dark, muddy bottom, like huge fish, ugly monsters are barely visible: all everyday 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, more and more disgustingly clear. Another minute - and the boat supported by him will capsize! But then it seems to fade again, it moves away, sinks to the bottom - and it lies there, slightly moving its reach... But the appointed day will come - and it will capsize the boat.

For several moments he looked at this cross in bewilderment - and suddenly he cried out weakly... Either regret or joy portrayed his features. A similar expression appears on a person’s face when he has to suddenly meet another person whom he has long lost sight of, whom he once loved dearly and who now unexpectedly appears before his eyes, still the same - and completely changed over the years. He stood up and, returning to the fireplace, sat down again in the chair - and again covered his face with his hands... “Why today? exactly today?" - he thought, and he remembered many things that had happened long ago...

This is what he remembered...

But you must first say his first name, patronymic and last name. 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 assumption of that government yoke, without which a secure existence had become unthinkable for him. Sanin carried out his intention exactly and managed it so skillfully that on the day of his arrival in Frankfurt he had exactly enough money to get to St. Petersburg. In 1840 there were very few railways; gentlemen, tourists rode around in stagecoaches. Sanin took a seat in the Beywagen; but the stagecoach did not leave until 11 o'clock in the evening. There was a lot 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 Danneker’s Ariadne, which he liked little, visited Goethe’s house, of whose works he, however, read only “Werther” - and that in a French translation; I 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 its few houses he saw a sign: “Giovanni Roselli’s Italian Pastry Shop” announcing 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 the gray cat squinted and purred, moving its paws, on a high wicker chair near the window, and, blushing brightly in the slanting ray of the evening sun, a large ball of red wool lay on the floor next to an overturned carved wooden basket. A vague noise was heard in the next room. Sanin stood and, letting the bell on the door ring until the end, said, raising his voice: “Is there no one here?” At the same instant, the door from the next room opened - and Sanin had to be amazed.

A girl of about nineteen, with her dark curls scattered over her bare shoulders and her bare arms outstretched, rushed into the pastry shop and, seeing Sanin, immediately rushed to him, grabbed his hand and pulled him along, saying in a breathless voice: “Hurry, hurry, come here, save me!” Not out of unwillingness to obey, but simply from an excess of amazement, Sanin did not immediately follow the girl - and seemed to stop in his tracks: he had never seen such a beauty in his life. She turned to him and with such despair in her voice, in her gaze, in the movement of her clenched hand, convulsively raised to her pale cheek, she said: “Go, go!” - that he immediately rushed after her through the open door.