What to do full content. E-book What to do? Other retellings and reviews for the reader's diary

The novel “What to do?” Chernyshevsky wrote in 1862 - 1863. The work was created within the framework of the literary movement “sociological realism”. Literary historians classify the novel as a utopia.

The central plot line of the book is a love story with a positive ending. At the same time, the work touches on the social, economic and philosophical ideas of that time, themes of love, relationships between fathers and children, enlightenment, and the importance of human willpower. In addition, the novel contains many hints about the coming revolution.

Main characters

Vera Pavlovna Rozalskaya– a purposeful, freedom-loving girl, “with a southern type of face.” I thought in a new way, I didn’t want to be just a wife, but to do my own thing; opened sewing workshops.

Dmitry Sergeich Lopukhov- physician, first husband of Vera Pavlovna. After his staged suicide, he took the name Charles Beaumont.

Alexander Matveich Kirsanov- Lopukhov’s friend, a talented physician, Vera Pavlovna’s second husband.

Other characters

Marya Aleksevna Rozalskaya- Vera Pavlovna’s mother, a very enterprising woman who always looked for profit in everything.

Pavel Konstantinich Rozalsky- manager of the Storeshnikovs' house, father of Vera Pavlovna.

Mikhail Ivanovich Storeshnikov- “a prominent and handsome officer,” a womanizer, wooed Vera Pavlovna.

Julie- a Frenchwoman, a woman with a complex past, found herself a Russian lover, helped and sympathized with Vera.

Mertsalov Alexey Petrovich- a good friend of Lopukhov, the priest who married Lopukhov and Vera.

Mertsalova Natalya Andreevna- Mertsalov’s wife, and then Vera’s friend.

Rakhmetov– Lopukhov’s friend, Kirsanova, was straightforward, with bold views.

Katerina Vasilievna Polozova- wife of Beaumont (Lopukhov).

Vasily Polozov- father of Katerina Vasilievna.

I. Fool

“On the morning of July 11, 1856, the servants of one of the large St. Petersburg hotels near the Moscow railway station were at a loss.” The day before, at 9 o'clock in the evening, a certain gentleman stopped with them. In the morning he did not respond. Having broken down the doors, they found a note: “I’m leaving at 11 o’clock in the evening and will not return. They will hear me on the Liteiny Bridge, between 2 and 3 am. Don’t have any suspicions about anyone.”

The policeman said that at night a pistol shot was heard on the bridge and the missing gentleman’s cap was found with a bullet through it. The gossips decided that he did this because he was “just a fool.”

II. The first consequence of a stupid case

That same morning at 12 o'clock a young lady was sewing and humming a French song in a low voice. They brought her a letter that brought her to tears. The young man who entered the room read the letter: “I embarrassed your calm. I'm leaving the stage. Don't be sorry; I love you both so much that I am very happy with my determination. Farewell". His hands began to shake. The woman exclaimed: “You have his blood on you!” , “And I have his blood on me!” .

III. Preface

The author argues that he “used the usual trick of novelists: he began the story with spectacular scenes taken from the middle or end of it.” He reflects that among his audience there is a share of people whom he respects - “kind and strong, honest and capable,” so he “still needs” and “can already” write.

Chapter 1. The life of Vera Pavlovna in her parents’ family

I

Vera Pavlovna grew up in a multi-storey building on Gorokhovaya, which belonged to the Storeshnikovs. The Rozalskys - house manager Pavel Konstantinych, his wife Marya Aleksevna, daughter Vera and “9-year-old son Fedya” lived on the 4th floor. Pavel Konstantinych also served in the department.

From the age of 12, Verochka went to a boarding school and studied with a piano teacher. She sewed well, so she soon sewed the whole family. Because of her dark, “gypsy-like” skin, her mother called her “stuffed animal,” so Vera got used to considering herself ugly. But after some time, her mother stopped driving her around in almost rags, and began dressing her up, hoping to find her daughter a rich husband. At the age of 16, Verochka began giving lessons herself.

Pavel Konstantinich’s boss decided to woo the girl, but it took him too long to get ready. Soon the owner's son Storeshnikov began visiting the Rozalskys and began paying a lot of attention to Verochka. To arrange their marriage, Marya Aleksevna even took expensive tickets to the opera in the same box where the hostess’s son was with friends, they heatedly discussed something in French. Verochka felt awkward and, citing a headache, left early.

II

Mikhail Ivanovich dined with other gentlemen in a fashionable restaurant. Among them there was one lady - Mademoiselle Julie. Storeshnikov said that Vera was his mistress. Julie, who saw Vera at the opera, noted that she was “gorgeous,” but clearly not Mikhail’s mistress - “he wants to buy her.”

III

When Storeshnikov came to the Rozalskys the next day, Vera deliberately spoke to him in French so that her mother would not understand anything. She said that she knew that yesterday he decided to “expose” her to his friends as his mistress. Vera asked not to visit them and to leave as soon as possible.

IV

Julie, together with Storeshnikov, came to Vera, since the lady needed a piano teacher for her niece (but this was just a fictitious reason). Julie told Marya Aleksevna that Mikhail made a bet on Vera with his friends.

V–IX

Julie considered Vera a good passion for Storeshnikov: “marrying her, despite her low origins and, compared to you, poverty, would greatly advance your career.” Julie also advised Vera to become Storeshnikov’s wife in order to get rid of her mother’s persecution. But Storeshnikov was unpleasant to Vera.

After some thought, Storeshnikov actually made the offer. Vera's parents were delighted, but the girl herself said that she did not want to marry Mikhail. However, Storeshnikov nevertheless asked that instead of a refusal he be given a deferred response. When visiting the girl, Mikhail “was obedient to her, like a child.” “Three or four months passed like this.”

Chapter 2. First love and legal marriage

I

To prepare Vera’s younger brother for entering the gymnasium, his father hired a medical student, Lopukhov. During lessons, 9-year-old Fedya told the teacher everything about Vera and her potential groom.

II

Lopukhov did not live on government support, and therefore did not go hungry or get cold. From the age of 15 he gave lessons. Lopukhov rented an apartment with his friend Kirsanov. In the near future, he was supposed to become a resident (doctor) in one of the “St. Petersburg military hospitals”, and soon receive a chair at the Academy.

III–VI

Marya Aleksevna invited Lopukhov to a “party” - her daughter’s birthday. At the evening, while dancing, Lopukhov got into a conversation with Vera. He promised to help her “break out of this humiliating situation” associated with the upcoming wedding.

At the end of the evening, Verochka thought about how strange it was that they spoke for the first time “and became so close.” She fell in love with Lopukhov, not yet realizing that her feelings were mutual.

VII–IX

Once, in order to finally check Lopukhov whether he had any plans for Vera, Marya Aleksevna overheard a conversation between Vera and Dmitry. She heard Lopukhov telling Vera that cold, practical people were right: “a person is controlled only by calculation of benefit.” The girl replied that she completely agreed with him. Lopukhov advised her to marry Mikhail Ivanovich. What she heard completely convinced Marya Aleksevna that conversations with Dmitry Sergeich were useful for Verochka.

X–XI

Lopukhov and Vera knew that they were being followed. At Vera's request, Lopukhov looked for a position as a governess for her. Kirsanov helped find the right option.

XII. Verochka's first dream

Vera dreamed that she was locked in a damp, dark basement. Suddenly the door opened and she found herself in a field. She began to dream that she was paralyzed. Someone touched her and her illness went away. Vera saw that a beautiful girl with a changing appearance was walking across the field - English, French, German, Polish, Russian, and her mood was constantly changing. The girl introduced herself as the bride of her suitors and asked them to call her “love for people.” Then Vera dreamed that she was walking through the city and freeing girls locked in the basement and healing girls broken by paralysis.

XIII – XVI

The woman to whom Verochka was supposed to become a governess refused because she did not want to go against the will of the girl’s parents. Frustrated Vera thought that if things got really bad, she would throw herself out the window.

XVII – XVIII

Vera and Dmitry decide to get married and discuss their future lives. The girl wants to earn her own money so as not to be her husband's slave. She wants them to live as friends, with separate rooms and a common living room.

XIX–XIX

While Lopukhov had business, Vera lived at home. One day she went out with her mother to Gostiny Dvor. Unexpectedly, the girl told her mother that she had married Dmitry Sergeich, sat down with the first cab driver she came across, and ran away.

XX-XIV

Three days before, they actually got married. Lopukhov arranged for his friend Mertsalov to marry them. He remembered that they kiss in church and, so that it would not be too embarrassing there, they kissed beforehand.

Having escaped from her mother, Vera went to the apartment Lopukhov had found for them. Lopukhov himself went to the Rozalskys and reassured them about what had happened.

Chapter 3. Marriage and second love

I

“Things were going well for the Lopukhovs.” Vera gave lessons, Lopukhov worked. The owners with whom the spouses lived were surprised by their way of life - as if they were not a family, but brother and sister. The Lopukhovs entered each other's rooms only by knocking. Vera believed that this only contributed to a strong marriage and love.

II

Vera Pavlovna opened a sewing workshop. Julie helped her find clients. Having gone to her parents, she returned home and did not understand how she could live in “such disgusting straits” and “grow up with a love of goodness.”

III. Vera Pavlovna's second dream

Vera dreamed that her husband and Alexey Petrovich were walking across the field. Lopukhov told a friend that there is “pure dirt,” “real dirt,” from which the ear grows. And there is “rotten dirt” - “fantastic dirt”, from which there is no development.

Then she dreamed of her mother. Marya Aleksevna, with anger in her voice, said that she cared about a piece of bread for her daughter and, if she had not been evil, her daughter would not have been kind.

IV

“Vera Pavlovna’s workshop has settled down.” She initially had three seamstresses, who then found four more. Over the course of three years, their workshop only developed and expanded. “A year and a half later, almost all the girls already lived in one large apartment, had a common table, stocked up on provisions in the same order as is done in large farms.”

V–XVIII

Once after a walk, Dmitry Sergeich became seriously ill with pneumonia. Kirsanov and Vera kept watch at the patient’s bedside until he recovered. Kirsanov had been in love with Vera for a long time, so before his friend’s illness he very rarely visited them.

Both Kirsanov and Lopukhov “paved their way with their breasts, without connections, without acquaintances.” Kirsanov was a physician, “already had a department” and was known as a “master” of his craft.

While staying with the Lopukhovs during his friend’s illness, Kirsanov realized that he was “stepping onto a dangerous road for himself.” Despite the fact that his attachment to Vera renewed with greater force, he managed to cope with it.

XIX. Vera Pavlovna's third dream

Vera dreamed that she was reading her own diary. From it she understands that she loves Lopukhov because he “brought her out of the basement.” That before she did not know the need for a quiet, tender feeling that does not exist in her husband.

XX – XXI

Vera had a premonition that she did not love her husband. Lopukhov began to think that he would not “keep her love behind him.” After analyzing the latest events, Lopukhov realized that feelings had arisen between Kirsanov and Vera.

XXII – XXVIII

Lopukhov asked Kirsanov to visit them more often. Vera realized her passion for Kirsanov and wrote a note to her husband apologizing that she loved Alexander. The next day, Lopukhov went to visit his relatives in Ryazan. A month and a half later he returned, lived for three weeks in St. Petersburg, and then left for Moscow. He left on July 9, and on July 11, “in the morning, confusion occurred in a hotel near the Moscow railway station.”

XXIX – XXX

An acquaintance of the Lopukhovs, Rakhmetov, volunteered to help Vera. He knew about Lopukhov’s plans and handed over a note where he wrote that he was going to “leave the stage.”

Rakhmetov had the nickname Nikitushka Lomov, named after a barge hauler who walked along the Volga, “a giant of Herculean strength.” Rakhmetov worked hard on himself and acquired “exorbitant strength.” He was quite sharp and straightforward in his communication. Once I even slept on nails to test my willpower. The author believes that with people like Rakhmetov, “everyone’s life blossoms; without them it would have died out."

XXXI

Chapter 4. Second marriage

I–III

Berlin, July 20, 1856. Letter to Vera Pavlovna from a “retired medical student” in which he conveys the words of Dmitry Sergeich. Lopukhov understood that their relationship with Vera would no longer be the same as before, reflected on his mistakes and said that Kirsanov should take his place.

IV–XIII

Vera is happy with Kirsanov. They read and discuss books together. Once during a conversation, Vera said that “women’s organization is almost higher than men’s,” that women are stronger and more resilient than men.

Vera suggested that “you need to have something that cannot be abandoned, which cannot be postponed, - then a person is incomparably stronger.” Vera gave the example of Rakhmetov, for whom a common cause replaced a personal one, while they, Alexander and Vera, only need a personal life.

To be equal to her husband in everything, Vera took up medicine. At that time there were no female doctors yet and for a woman this was a compromising matter.

XIV

Vera and Alexander note that over time their feelings only become stronger. Kirsanov believes that without his wife he would have stopped growing professionally long ago.

XVI. Vera Pavlovna's fourth dream

Vera dreamed of a field covered with flowers, flowering bushes, a forest, and a luxurious palace. Vera is shown three queens, goddesses who were worshiped. The first is Astarte, who was her husband’s slave. The second is Aphrodite, who was exalted only as a source of pleasure. The third is “Purity,” showing a knightly tournament and a knight who loved an inaccessible lady of his heart. Knights loved their ladies only until they became their wives and subjects.

Faith's guide said that the kingdoms of those queens were falling, and now her time had come. Vera understands that she herself is the guide and the new queen. The conductor says that it can be expressed in one word - equality. Vera dreams of New Russia, where people live and work happily.

XVII

A year later, Vera’s new workshop was “completely settled.” The first workshop is run by Mertsalova. Soon they opened a store on Nevsky.

XVIII

Letter from Katerina Vasilievna Polozova. She writes that she met Vera Pavlovna and was delighted with her workshop.

Chapter 5. New faces and denouement

I

Polozova owed a lot to Kirsanov. Her father was a “retired captain or headquarters captain.” After retirement, he began to engage in business and soon created “a fair amount of capital.” His wife died, leaving him a daughter, Katya. Over time, his capital reached several million. But at some point he quarreled with the “right person” and at the age of 60 he remained a beggar (compared to recently, he otherwise lived well).

II–V

When Katya was 17 years old, she suddenly began to lose weight and fell ill. Just a year before the wedding with Vera, Kirsanov was among the doctors who took care of Katya’s health. Alexander guessed that the reason for the girl’s ill health was unhappy love.

“Hundreds of suitors courted the heiress of a huge fortune.” Polozov immediately noticed that his daughter liked Solovtsov. But he was “a very bad man.” Polozov once said a barb to Solovtsov, who began to visit them rarely, but began to send hopeless letters to Katya. Rereading them, she fantasized about love and fell ill.

VI–VIII

At the next medical consultation, Kirsanov said that Polozova’s disease was incurable, so her suffering must be stopped by taking a lethal dose of morphine. Having learned about this, Polozov allowed the girl to do what she wanted. Three months later the wedding was scheduled. Soon the girl herself realized her mistake and broke off the engagement. Her views changed, now she was even glad that her father had lost his wealth and “the vulgar, boring, disgusting crowd had left them.”

IX

Polozov decided to sell the stearin plant and, after a lengthy search, found a buyer - Charles Beaumont, who was an agent of the London firm of Hodchson, Lauter and Co.

X

Beaumont said that his father came from America, was here “a distiller at a factory in the Tambov province,” but after the death of his wife he returned to America. When his father died, Charles got a job in a London office that deals with St. Petersburg and asked for a position in Russia.

XI – XII

Polozov invited Beaumont to dinner. During the conversation, Katya expressed that she wanted to do something useful. Beaumont advised her to meet Mrs. Kirsanova, but then tell her how her affairs were.

XIII – XVIII

Beaumont began to visit the Polozovs very often. Polozov considered him a good match for Katerina. Katerina and Charles fell in love with each other, but did not show their passion and were very restrained.

Charles proposed to Catherine, warning that he was already married. The girl realized that it was Vera. Katerina gave him consent.

XIX – XXI

The next day, Katerina went to Vera and said that she would introduce her to her fiancé. The Kirsanovs, having learned that it was Lopukhov, were very happy (Dmitry faked suicide, changed his name, went to America, but then returned). “That same evening we agreed: both families should look for apartments that would be nearby.”

XXII

“Each of the two families lives in its own way, whichever one likes best. They see each other like family." “The sewing industry, continuing to get used to itself, continues to exist; there are now three of them; Katerina Vasilievna arranged hers a long time ago.” This year Vera Pavlovna will already “take the medical exam.”

XXIII

Several years passed, they lived just as friendly. The author depicts a scene of festivities. Among the youth there is a certain lady in mourning who says that “you can fall in love and you can get married, only with discernment and without deception.”

Chapter 6. Change of scenery

“- To the Passage! - said the lady in mourning, only now she was no longer in mourning: a bright pink dress, a pink hat, a white mantilla, and a bouquet in her hand.” She had been waiting for this day for more than two years. But the author, not wanting to continue, ends his story.

Conclusion

Chernyshevsky’s novel “What to do?” interesting for its gallery of strong, strong-willed characters - “new” people. These are Vera Pavlovna, Kirsanov, Lopukhov, over whom the image of Rakhmetov seems to rise, standing apart. All these people made themselves and never stopped working on self-development, while trying to invest as much as possible in the “common cause.” In fact they are revolutionaries.

The main character of the book, Vera Pavlovna, does not appear to be an ordinary woman for that time. She decides to go against the will of her parents, is not afraid of society’s condemnation, opening her own workshops, and then becoming a doctor. She inspires other women and people around her to develop themselves and serve the common cause.

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For the first time, Chernyshevsky’s most famous work, the novel “What is to be done?”, was published as a separate book. - published in 1867 in Geneva. The initiators of the book's publication were Russian emigrants; in Russia the novel was banned by censorship by that time. In 1863, the work was still published in the Sovremennik magazine, but those issues where its individual chapters were published soon found themselves banned. Summary “What to do?” The youth of those years passed Chernyshevsky on to each other by word of mouth, and the novel itself in handwritten copies, so much so did the work make an indelible impression on them.

Is it possible to do something

The author wrote his sensational novel in the winter of 1862-1863, while in the dungeons of the Peter and Paul Fortress. The dates of writing are December 14-April 4. From January 1863, censors began working with individual chapters of the manuscript, but, seeing only a love line in the plot, they allowed the novel to be published. Soon the deep meaning of the work reaches the officials of Tsarist Russia, the censor is removed from office, but the job is done - a rare youth circle of those years did not discuss the summary of “What is to be done?” With his work, Chernyshevsky wanted not only to tell Russians about the “new people”, but also to arouse in them a desire to imitate them. And his bold call echoed in the hearts of many of the author’s contemporaries.

The youth of the late 19th century turned Chernyshevsky’s ideas into their own lives. Stories about the numerous noble deeds of those years began to appear so often that for some time they became almost commonplace in everyday life. Many suddenly realized that they were capable of Action.

Having a question and a clear answer to it

The main idea of ​​the work, and it is doubly revolutionary in its essence, is personal freedom, regardless of gender. That is why the main character of the novel is a woman, since at that time the dominance of women did not extend beyond the confines of their own living room. Looking back at the life of her mother and close friends, Vera Pavlovna early realizes the absolute mistake of inaction, and decides that the basis of her life will be work: honest, useful, giving the opportunity to live with dignity. Hence morality - personal freedom comes from the freedom to perform actions that correspond to both thoughts and capabilities. This is what Chernyshevsky tried to express through the life of Vera Pavlovna. "What to do?" chapter by chapter, he paints readers a colorful picture of the step-by-step construction of “real life.” Here Vera Pavlovna leaves her mother and decides to open her own business, so she realizes that only equality between all members of her artel will correspond to her ideals of freedom, so her absolute happiness with Kirsanov depends on Lopukhov’s personal happiness. interconnected with high moral principles - this is all Chernyshevsky.

Characteristics of the author's personality through his characters

Both writers and readers, as well as omniscient critics, have the opinion that the main characters of the work are a kind of literary copies of their creators. Even if not exact copies, they are very close in spirit to the author. The narration of the novel “What to do?” is told in the first person, and the author is an active character. He enters into conversation with other characters, even argues with them and, like a “voice-over,” explains to both the characters and the readers many points that are incomprehensible to them.

At the same time, the author conveys to the reader doubts about his writing abilities, says that “he doesn’t even speak the language well,” and he certainly doesn’t have a drop of “artistic talent.” But for the reader his doubts are unconvincing; this is also refuted by the novel that Chernyshevsky himself created, “What is to be done?” Vera Pavlovna and the rest of the characters are so accurately and versatilely drawn, endowed with such unique individual qualities that an author who does not have true talent would be unable to create.

New, but so different

Chernyshevsky’s heroes, these positive “new people”, according to the author’s conviction, from the category of unreal, non-existent, should one day by themselves firmly enter our lives. To enter, to dissolve in the crowd of ordinary people, to push them aside, to regenerate someone, to convince someone, to completely push the rest - those who are intractable - out of the general mass, ridding society of them, like a field of weeds. The artistic utopia that Chernyshevsky himself was clearly aware of and tried to define through its name is “What to do?” A special person, in his deep conviction, is capable of radically changing the world around him, but how to do this, he must determine for himself.

Chernyshevsky created his novel as a counterweight to Turgenev’s “Fathers and Sons”; his “new people” are not at all like the cynical nihilist Bazarov, who irritates with his peremptory attitude. The cardinality of these images is in the implementation of their main task: Turgenev’s hero wanted to “clear a place” around him from everything old that had outlived his own, that is, to destroy, while Chernyshevsky’s characters tried more to build something, to create, before destroying.

Formation of the “new man” in the middle of the 19th century

These two works of great Russian writers became for readers and the literary community of the second half of the 19th century a kind of beacon - a ray of light in a dark kingdom. Both Chernyshevsky and Turgenev loudly declared the existence of a “new man” and his need to create a special mood in society capable of bringing about fundamental changes in the country.

If you re-read and translate the summary of “What to do?” Chernyshevsky in the plane of revolutionary ideas that deeply affected the minds of a certain part of the population of those years, then many of the allegorical features of the work will become easily explainable. The image of the “bride of her grooms”, seen by Vera Pavlovna in her second dream, is nothing more than “Revolution” - this is precisely the conclusion drawn by writers who lived in different years, who studied and analyzed the novel from all sides. The rest of the images that are narrated in the novel are also marked by allegory, regardless of whether they are animated or not.

A little about the theory of reasonable egoism

The desire for change not only for oneself, not only for one’s loved ones, but also for everyone else runs like a red thread through the entire novel. This is completely different from the theory of calculating one’s own benefit, which Turgenev reveals in Fathers and Sons. In many ways, Chernyshevsky agrees with his fellow writer, believing that any person not only can, but should also reasonably calculate and determine his individual path to his own happiness. But at the same time, he says that you can only enjoy it surrounded by equally happy people. This is the fundamental difference between the plots of the two novels: in Chernyshevsky, the heroes forge well-being for everyone, in Turgenev, Bazarov creates his own happiness without regard to those around him. Chernyshevsky is all the closer to us through his novel.

“What to do?”, the analysis of which we give in our review, is ultimately much closer to the reader of Turgenev’s “Fathers and Sons.”

Briefly about the plot

As the reader who has never picked up Chernyshevsky’s novel has already been able to determine, the main character of the work is Vera Pavlovna. Through her life, the formation of her personality, her relationships with others, including men, the author reveals the main idea of ​​her novel. Summary “What to do?” Chernyshevsky's list of characteristics of the main characters and details of their lives can be conveyed in a few sentences.

Vera Rozalskaya (aka Vera Pavlovna) lives in a fairly wealthy family, but everything in her home disgusts her: her mother with her dubious activities, and her acquaintances, who think one thing, but say and do something completely different. Having decided to leave her parents, our heroine tries to find a job, but only with Dmitry Lopukhov, who is close to her in spirit, gives the girl the freedom and lifestyle that she dreams of. Vera Pavlovna creates a sewing workshop with all seamstresses having equal rights to its income - a rather progressive idea for that time. Even her suddenly flared up love for her husband’s close friend Alexander Kirsanov, which she became convinced of while caring for the sick Lopukhov with Kirsanov, does not deprive her of sanity and nobility: she does not leave her husband, she does not leave the workshop. Seeing the mutual love of his wife and close friend, Lopukhov, staging suicide, frees Vera Pavlovna from all obligations to him. Vera Pavlovna and Kirsanov get married and are quite happy about it, and a few years later Lopukhov appears in their lives again. But only under a different name and with a new wife. Both families settle in the neighborhood, spend quite a lot of time together and are quite satisfied with the circumstances that have arisen in this way.

Does being determine consciousness?

The formation of Vera Pavlovna’s personality is far from the pattern of character traits of those of her peers who grew up and were brought up in conditions similar to her. Despite her youth, lack of experience and connections, the heroine clearly knows what she wants in life. Getting married successfully and becoming an ordinary mother of a family is not for her, especially since by the age of 14 the girl knew and understood a lot. She sewed beautifully and provided the whole family with clothes; at the age of 16 she began earning money by giving private piano lessons. Her mother's desire to get her married is met with a firm refusal and she creates her own business - a sewing workshop. The work “What to do?” is about broken stereotypes, about courageous actions of a strong character. Chernyshevsky in his own way gives an explanation for the well-established statement that consciousness determines the existence in which a person finds himself. He defines, but only in the way he decides for himself - either following a path not chosen by him, or finding his own. Vera Pavlovna left the path prepared for her by her mother and the environment in which she lived and created her own path.

Between the realms of dreams and reality

Determining your path does not mean finding it and following it. There is a huge gap between dreams and their implementation in reality. Some people do not dare to jump over it, while others gather all their will into a fist and take a decisive step. This is how Chernyshevsky responds to the problem raised in his novel “What is to be done?” The analysis of the stages of formation of Vera Pavlovna’s personality is carried out by the author himself instead of the reader. He guides him through the heroine’s embodiment of her dreams of her own freedom in reality through active work. It may be a difficult path, but it is a straight and completely passable path. And according to it, Chernyshevsky not only guides his heroine, but also allows her to achieve what she wants, letting the reader understand that only through activity can the cherished goal be achieved. Unfortunately, the author emphasizes that not everyone chooses this path. Not every.

Reflection of reality through dreams

In a rather unusual form he wrote his novel “What is to be done?” Chernyshevsky. Vera's dreams - there are four of them in the novel - reveal the depth and originality of those thoughts that real events evoke in her. In her first dream, she sees herself freed from the basement. This is a certain symbolism of leaving her own home, where she was destined for an unacceptable fate. Through the idea of ​​liberating girls like her, Vera Pavlovna creates her own workshop, in which each seamstress receives an equal share of her total income.

The second and third dreams explain to the reader through real and fantastic dirt, reading Verochka’s diary (which, by the way, she never kept) what thoughts about the existence of different people possess the heroine at different periods of her life, what she thinks about her second marriage and the very necessity of this marriage. Explanation through dreams is a convenient form of presentation of the work that Chernyshevsky chose. "What to do?" - content of the novel , reflected through dreams, the characters of the main characters in dreams are a worthy example of Chernyshevsky’s use of this new form.

Ideals of a bright future, or Vera Pavlovna’s Fourth Dream

If the heroine’s first three dreams reflected her attitude towards accomplished facts, then her fourth dream reflected dreams about the future. It is enough to remember it in more detail. So, Vera Pavlovna dreams of a completely different world, implausible and beautiful. She sees many happy people living in a wonderful house: luxurious, spacious, surrounded by amazing views, decorated with flowing fountains. In it no one feels disadvantaged, there is one common joy for everyone, one common well-being, everyone is equal in it.

These are the dreams of Vera Pavlovna, this is how Chernyshevsky would like to see reality (“What to do?”). Dreams, and they, as we remember, are about the relationship between reality and the world of dreams, reveal not so much the spiritual world of the heroine, but the author of the novel himself. And his full awareness of the impossibility of creating such a reality, a utopia that will not come true, but for which it is still necessary to live and work. And this is also what Vera Pavlovna’s fourth dream is about.

Utopia and its predictable ending

As everyone knows, his main work is the novel “What is to be done?” - Nikolai Chernyshevsky wrote while in prison. Deprived of family, society, freedom, seeing reality in the dungeons in a completely new way, dreaming of a different reality, the writer put it on paper, without believing in its implementation. Chernyshevsky had no doubt that “new people” are capable of changing the world. But he also understood that not everyone will survive under the power of circumstances, and not everyone will be worthy of a better life.

How does the novel end? The idyllic coexistence of two families close in spirit: the Kirsanovs and the Lopukhovs-Beaumonts. A small world created by active people full of nobility of thoughts and actions. Are there many similar happy communities around? No! Isn't this the answer to Chernyshevsky's dreams about the future? Whoever wants to create his own prosperous and happy world will create it; whoever doesn’t want to will go with the flow.

Chapter Three
MARRIAGE AND SECOND LOVE

About three hours after Kirsanov left, Vera Pavlovna came to her senses, and one of her first thoughts was: it’s impossible to leave the workshop like that. Yes, although Vera Pavlovna loved to prove that the workshop was running on its own, in essence, she knew that she was only deluding herself with this thought, but in fact the workshop needed a leader, otherwise everything would fall apart. However, now the matter was very much established, and there was little trouble in managing it. Mertsalova had two children; it takes an hour and a half a day, and even then she can devote it not every day. She probably won’t refuse, because she still studies a lot in the workshop. Vera Pavlovna began to sort out her things for sale, and she herself sent Masha first to Mertsalova to ask her to come, then to a seller of old clothes and all sorts of things to match Rachel, one of the most resourceful Jews, but a good friend of Vera Pavlovna, with whom Rachel was absolutely honest , like almost all Jewish small traders and traders with all decent people. Rachel and Masha must go to the city apartment, collect the remaining dresses and things there, on the way stop by the furrier, to whom Vera Pavlovna’s fur coats were given for the summer, then come to the dacha with all this heap, so that Rachel can properly evaluate and buy everything in bulk.

When Masha came out of the gate, she was met by Rakhmetov, who had been wandering around the dacha for half an hour.

Are you leaving, Masha? For how long?

Yes, I must be tossing and turning late in the evening. Lots to do.

Is Vera Pavlovna left alone?

So I’ll come in and sit in your place, maybe some need will arise.

Please; otherwise I was afraid for her. And I forgot, Mr. Rakhmetov: call one of the neighbors, there is a cook and a nanny there, my friends, to serve dinner, because she hasn’t had dinner yet.

Nothing; and I didn’t have lunch, we’ll have lunch alone. Did you have lunch?

Yes, Vera Pavlovna didn’t let her go like that.

At least that's good. I thought they would forget this because of themselves.

Except for Masha and those who equaled or surpassed her in simplicity of soul and dress, everyone was a little afraid of Rakhmetov: Lopukhov, and Kirsanov, and everyone who was not afraid of anyone or anything, felt at times a certain cowardice in front of him. He was very distant from Vera Pavlovna: she found him very boring, he never joined her company. But he was Masha’s favorite, although he was less friendly and talkative with her than all the other guests.

“I came without being called, Vera Pavlovna,” he began, “but I saw Alexander Matveich and I know everything.” Therefore, I decided that perhaps I could be useful to you for some services and would spend the evening with you.

His services could be useful, perhaps, right now: to help Vera Pavlovna in dismantling things. Anyone else in Rakhmetov’s place would have been invited at the same second and would have volunteered to do this. But he neither volunteered nor was invited; Vera Pavlovna just shook his hand and said with sincere feeling that she was very grateful to him for his attentiveness.

“I will sit in the office,” he answered: if you need anything, you will call; and if anyone comes, I will open the door, you don’t worry yourself.

With these words, he calmly went into the office, took out of his pocket a large piece of ham, a slice of black bread - in total it amounted to four pounds, sat down, ate everything, trying to chew it well, drank half a carafe of water, then went up to the shelves with books and began to look through , what to choose for reading: “known...”, “unoriginal...”, “unoriginal...”, “unoriginal...”, “unoriginal...” this “unoriginal” referred to books such as Macaulay, Guizot, Thiers, Ranke, Gervinus. “Oh, it’s good that I came across this,” he said, having read several hefty volumes of “Newton’s Complete Works” on the spine; “he hastily began to sort through the topics, finally found what he was looking for, and said with a loving smile: - “here it is, here it is” - “Observations on the Prophethies of Daniel and the Apocalypse of St. John", that is, "Notes on the Prophecies of Daniel and the Apocalypse of St. John." "Yes, this aspect of knowledge still remained with me without a fundamental foundation. Newton wrote this commentary in his old age, when he was half sane and half mad. A classic source on the question of mixing madness with intelligence. After all, the question is world-historical: this is confusion in all events without exception, in almost all books, in almost all heads. But here it must be in exemplary form: firstly, the most brilliant and normal mind of all the minds known to us; secondly, the madness mixed in with it is recognized, indisputable madness. So, the book is thorough in its part. The subtlest features of the general phenomenon must be shown here more tangibly than anywhere else, and no one can doubt that these are precisely the features of the phenomenon to which the features of mixing madness with intelligence belong. A book worthy of study." He began to read with diligent pleasure a book that in the last hundred years hardly anyone had read except its proofreaders: reading it for anyone other than Rakhmetov was the same as eating sand or sawdust. But it was delicious for him.

There are few people like Rakhmetov: so far I have met only eight examples of this breed (including two women); they were not similar in anything except one feature. Between them there were soft people and stern people, gloomy people and cheerful people, busy people and phlegmatic people, tearful people (one with a stern face, mocking to the point of impudence; the other with a wooden face, silent and indifferent to everything; both of them cried a little in front of me times, like hysterical women, and not from their own affairs, but among conversations about various things; in private, I’m sure, they cried often), and people who never ceased to be calm because of nothing. There was no similarity in anything except one trait, but this alone already united them into one breed and separated them from all other people. I laughed at those of them with whom I was close when I was alone with them; They were angry or not angry, but they also laughed at themselves. And indeed, there was a lot of fun in them, everything that was important about them was funny, everything was why they were people of a special breed. I love to laugh at people like this.

One of them, whom I met in the circle of Lopukhov and Kirsanov and which I will talk about here, serves as living proof that a reservation is needed to the reasoning of Lopukhov and Alexei Petrovich about the properties of the soil in Vera Pavlovna’s second dream [see. 2nd dream of Vera Pavlovna], the caveat that is needed is that no matter what the soil is, there may still be at least tiny patches in it on which healthy ears of corn can grow. The genealogy of the main persons of my story: Vera Pavlovna Kirsanov and Lopukhov, in truth, does not go back further than grandparents, and is it really possible to put some other great-grandmother on top (the great-grandfather is already inevitably covered in the darkness of oblivion, it is only known that he was great-grandmother's husband and that his name was Kiril, because his grandfather was Gerasim Kirilych). Rakhmetov was from a family known since the 13th century, that is, one of the oldest not only here, but in the whole of Europe. Among the Tatar temniks, corps commanders, who were massacred in Tver along with their army, according to the chronicles, allegedly for the intention to convert the people to Mohammedanism (an intention that they probably did not have), but in fact, simply for oppression, Rakhmet was there. The little son of this Rakhmet from his Russian wife, the niece of the Tver courtier, that is, the Chief Marshal and Field Marshal, who was forcibly taken by Rakhmet, was spared for his mother and rebaptized from Latyf to Mikhail. From this Latyf-Mikhail Rakhmetovich came the Rakhmetovs. They were boyars in Tver, in Moscow they became only okolnichy, in St. Petersburg in the last century they were general-in-chief - of course, not all of them: the family branched out to be very numerous, so that there would not be enough general-in-chief ranks for everyone. Our Rakhmetov’s great-great-grandfather was a friend of Ivan Ivanovich Shuvalov, who restored him from the disgrace that befell him for his friendship with Minikh. Great-grandfather was a colleague of Rumyantsev, rose to the rank of general-in-chief and was killed at Novi. Grandfather accompanied Alexander to Tilsit and would have gone further than anyone, but he lost his career early for his friendship with Speransky. My father served without luck and without falls; at the age of 40 he retired as a lieutenant general and settled in one of his estates scattered along the upper reaches of the Bear. The estates were, however, not very large, in total there were two and a half thousand souls, and many children appeared in the village leisure time, about 8 people; our Rakhmetov was the second to last, one sister was younger than him; therefore, our Rakhmetov was no longer a man with a rich inheritance: he received about 400 souls and 7,000 acres of land. How he disposed of the souls and 5,500 dessiatines of land was not known to anyone; it was not known that he left 1,500 dessiatines behind him, and in general it was not known that he was a landowner and that he was leasing the share of land left behind, he still has up to 3,000 rubles. income, no one knew this while he lived among us. We found out this later, and then we believed, of course, that he had the same surname as those Rakhmetovs, among whom there are many rich landowners, who, all namesakes together, have up to 75,000 souls along the upper reaches of the Medveditsa, Khopr, Sura and Tsna, which are constantly district leaders of those places, and one or the other constantly serves as provincial leaders in one or the other of the three provinces along which their fortress-like upper rivers flow. And we knew that our friend Rakhmetov lived on 400 rubles a year; for a student this was then a lot, but for a landowner from the Rakhmetovs it was already too little; therefore, each of us, who cared little about such certificates, assumed to ourselves without any certificates that our Rakhmetov was from some decayed and dislocated branch of the Rakhmetovs, the son of some adviser to the treasury chamber, who left his children a small capital. In fact, it was not for us to be interested in these things.

He was now 22 years old, and had been a student since he was 16; but he left the university for almost three years. He left the 2nd year, went to the estate, gave orders, defeating the resistance of his guardian, earning an anathema from his brothers and reaching the point that his husbands forbade his sisters to pronounce his name; then he wandered around Russia in different manners: by land, and by water, both in the ordinary and in the extraordinary, - for example, on foot, and on barks, and on inert boats, he had many adventures, which he all arranged for himself; By the way, he took two people to Kazan University, five to Moscow University - these were his scholarship recipients, but to St. Petersburg, where he himself wanted to live, he did not bring anyone, and therefore none of us knew that he had not 400, but 3 000 rub. income. This became known only later, and then we saw that he had disappeared for a long time, and two years before that time, as he was sitting in Kirsanov’s office reading Newton’s “Apocalypse,” he returned to St. Petersburg and entered the philological faculty - before I was on natural, and nothing more.

But if none of Rakhmetov’s St. Petersburg acquaintances knew his family and financial relationships, then everyone who knew him knew him under two nicknames; one of them has already come across in this story - “rigorist”; He accepted it with his usual light smile of gloomy pleasure. But when they called him Nikitushka or Lomov, or by his full nickname Nikitushka Lomov, he smiled broadly and sweetly and had a fair reason for this, because he did not receive from nature, but acquired through firmness of will the right to bear this name, famous among millions of people. But it resounds with glory only on a strip 100 miles wide, running through eight provinces; the readers of the rest of Russia need to explain what kind of name this is, Nikitushka Lomov, a barge hauler who walked along the Volga 20-15 years ago, was a giant of Herculean strength; He was 15 inches tall, he was so broad in the chest and shoulders that he weighed 15 pounds, although he was only a stout man, not a fat one. How strong he was, one thing is enough to say about this: he received payment for 4 people. When the ship docked at the city and he went to the market, in Volga style to the bazaar, the shouts of the guys were heard along the distant alleys; "Nikitushka Lomov is coming, Nikitushka Lomov is coming!" and everyone ran to the street leading from the pier to the bazaar, and a crowd of people poured after their hero.

At the age of 16, when he arrived in St. Petersburg, Rakhmetov was an ordinary young man of rather tall stature, quite strong, but far from remarkable in strength: out of ten peers he met, probably two would have gotten along with him. But halfway through the 17th year, he decided that he needed to acquire physical wealth, and began to work on himself. He began to practice gymnastics very diligently; this is good, but gymnastics only improves the material, it is necessary to stock up on material, and so for a time twice as long as gymnastics, for several hours a day, he becomes a laborer for work that requires strength: he carried water, carried firewood, chopped wood, sawed wood , cut stones, dug earth, forged iron; He worked a lot of jobs and often changed them, because from each new job, with each change, some muscles receive new development. He adopted the boxer's diet: he began to feed himself - namely, feed himself - exclusively on things that have a reputation for strengthening physical strength, most of all steak, almost raw, and from then on he always lived like that. A year after the start of these studies, he went on his wanderings and here he had even more convenience to develop physical strength: he was a plowman, a carpenter, a carrier and a worker in all sorts of healthy trades; Once he even walked the entire Volga as a barge hauler, from Dubovka to Rybinsk. To say that he wants to be a barge hauler would seem to the owner of the ship and the barge haulers to be the height of absurdity, and he would not be accepted; but he sat down as just a passenger, made friends with the artel, began to help pull the strap, and a week later he harnessed it like a real worker; They soon noticed how he was pulling, they began to try his strength - he pulled three, even four of the healthiest of his comrades; Then he was 20 years old, and his comrades in the strap dubbed him Nikitushka Lomov, from the memory of the hero, who had already left the stage at that time. The next summer he was traveling on a steamboat; one of the common people crowding on the deck turned out to be his colleague from last year, and in this way his student companions learned that he should be called Nikitushka Lomov. Indeed, he acquired and, sparing no time, maintained in himself exorbitant strength. “It’s necessary,” he said: “it gives respect and love from ordinary people. It’s useful, it can come in handy.”

This stuck in his head from the middle of '17, because from that time his peculiarity began to develop in general. At the age of 16 he came to St. Petersburg as an ordinary, good, high school student, an ordinary kind and honest young man, and spent three or four months as usual, as beginning students spend. But he began to hear that there were especially smart heads among the students who thought differently from others, and he learned the names of such people from his heels - then there were still few of them. They interested him, he began to look for an acquaintance with one of them; he happened to meet Kirsanov, and his rebirth into a special person began, into the future Nikitushka Lomov and a rigorist. He listened greedily to Kirsanov on the first evening, cried, interrupted his words with exclamations of curses for what should perish, blessings for what should live. - “Which books should I start reading?”

All this is very similar to Rakhmetov, even these “needs” that have sunk into the narrator’s memory. In age, voice, facial features, as far as the narrator remembered them, the traveler also approached Rakhmetov; but the narrator then did not pay much attention to his companion, who, moreover, had not been his companion for long, only about two hours: he got into the carriage in some town, got off in some village; therefore, the narrator could describe his appearance only in too general terms, and there is no complete reliability here: in all likelihood, it was Rakhmetov, but who knows? Maybe not him.

There was also a rumor that a young Russian, a former landowner, came to the greatest of the European thinkers of the 19th century, the father of new philosophy, a German, and told him this: “I have 30,000 thalers; I need only 5,000; I ask you to take the rest from me.” "(the philosopher lives very poorly). - "Why?" - “For the publication of your works.” - The philosopher, naturally, didn’t take it; but the Russian allegedly deposited money with the banker in his name and wrote to him like this: “Dispose of the money as you want, even throw it into the water, but you can’t return it to me, you won’t find me,” and as if The banker still has this money. If this rumor is true, then there is no doubt that it was Rakhmetov who came to the philosopher.

So this is what the gentleman who was now sitting in Kirsanov’s office was like.

Yes, this gentleman was a special person, a specimen of a very rare breed. And this is not why one specimen of this rare breed is described in such detail in order to teach you, discerning reader, decent (unknown to you) treatment of people of this breed: you will not see a single such person; your eyes, discerning reader, are not designed to see such people; they are invisible to you; only honest and courageous eyes see them; and for this purpose, a description of such a person serves you, so that you know at least from hearsay what kind of people there are in the world. What it serves for female readers and ordinary readers, they themselves know.

Yes, these are funny people, like Rakhmetov, very funny. It’s for them that I say that they are funny, I say it because I feel sorry for them; I say this for those noble people who are fascinated by them: do not follow them, noble people, I say, because the path to which they call you is poor in personal joys: but noble people do not listen to me and say: no, it is not poor, very rich, and even if it were poor in another place, it is not long, we will have enough strength to go through this place, to go out to endless places rich in joy. So you see, insightful reader, I am not saying this for you, but for another part of the public, that people like Rakhmetov are ridiculous. And to you, astute reader, I will tell you that these are not bad people; otherwise you probably won’t understand it yourself; yes, not bad people. There are few of them, but with them the life of all flourishes; without them it would have stalled, gone sour; There are few of them, but they allow all people to breathe, without them people would suffocate. There are a great number of honest and kind people, but such people are few; but they are in it - theine in tea, the bouquet in noble wine; from them its strength and aroma; this is the color of the best people, these are the engines of engines, this is the salt of the earth.

"What to do? - 01"

What to do?

From stories about new people

(Dedicated to my friend O.S.Ch.)

On the morning of July 11, 1856, the servants of one of the large St. Petersburg hotels near the Moscow railway station were perplexed, partly even alarmed. The day before, at 9 o'clock in the evening, a gentleman arrived with a suitcase, took a room, gave him his passport for registration, asked for tea and a cutlet, said that he should not be disturbed in the evening, because he was tired and wanted to sleep, but that tomorrow they would definitely unwind him at 8 o'clock, because he had urgent business, he locked the door of the room and, making noise with a knife and fork, making noise with the tea set, soon became quiet - apparently, he fell asleep. The morning has come; at 8 o'clock the servant knocked on the door of yesterday's visitor - the visitor did not give a voice; the servant knocked harder, very hard, but the newcomer still did not answer. Apparently, he was very tired. The servant waited a quarter of an hour, started to wake him up again, but again he didn’t wake him up. He began to consult with other servants, with the barman. “Did something happen to him?” - “We need to break down the doors.” - “No, that’s not good: you have to break down the door with the police.” We decided to try to wake him up again, harder; If he doesn’t wake up here, send for the police. We made the last test; didn’t get it;

They sent for the police and are now waiting to see what they see with them.

Around 10 o'clock in the morning a police official came, knocked himself, ordered the servants to knock - the success was the same as before. "There's nothing to do, break down the door, guys."

The door was broken down. The room is empty. “Look under the bed” - and there is no passer-by under the bed. The police official approached the table; there was a sheet of paper on the table, and on it was written in large letters:

“I’m leaving at 11 o’clock in the evening and will not return. They will hear me on the Liteiny Bridge (2), between 2 and 3 o’clock in the morning. There is no suspicion of anyone.”

So here it is, the thing is clear now, otherwise they couldn’t figure it out,” said the police official.

What is it, Ivan Afanasyevich? - asked the barman.

Let's have some tea and I'll tell you.

The story of the police official was for a long time the subject of animated retellings and discussions in the hotel. This is what the story was like.

At half past 3 o'clock in the morning - and the night was cloudy and dark - a fire flashed in the middle of the Liteiny Bridge, and a pistol shot was heard. The guards rushed to the shot, a few passers-by came running - there was no one and nothing at the place where the shot was heard. This means he didn’t shoot, but shot himself. There were hunters to dive, after a while they brought in hooks, they even brought some kind of fishing net, they dived, groped, caught, caught fifty large chips, but the bodies were not found or caught. And how to find it?

The night is dark. In these two hours it’s already at the seaside - go and look there. Therefore, progressives arose who rejected the previous assumption: “Or maybe there was no body? Maybe he was drunk, or just mischievous, fooling around,

He shot and ran away, otherwise he would probably be standing right there in the bustling crowd and laughing at the trouble he had caused.”

But the majority, as always when reasoning prudently, turned out to be conservative and defended the old: “he was fooling around - he put a bullet in his forehead, and that’s all.” The progressives were defeated. But the winning party, as always, split up immediately after the fight. Shot himself, yes; but why?

“Drunk,” was the opinion of some conservatives; “squandered,” other conservatives argued. “Just a fool,” someone said. Everyone agreed on this “just a fool,” even those who denied that he shot himself.

Indeed, whether he was drunk, or wasted, shot himself, or was a mischievous person, he didn’t shoot himself at all, but just threw something away - it doesn’t matter, it’s a stupid, stupid thing.

This was the end of the matter on the bridge at night. In the morning, in a hotel near the Moscow railway, it was discovered that the fool was not fooling around, but had shot himself. But as a result of history, there remained an element with which the vanquished agreed, namely, that even if he did not fool around and shot himself, he was still a fool. This result, satisfactory for everyone, was especially lasting precisely because the conservatives triumphed: in fact, if only he had fooled around with a shot on the bridge, then, in essence, it was still doubtful whether he was a fool or just a mischief-maker. But he shot himself on the bridge - who shoots himself on the bridge? how is it on the bridge? why on the bridge? stupid on the bridge! -

and therefore, undoubtedly, a fool.

Again some doubts arose: he shot himself on the bridge; They don’t shoot on the bridge, so he didn’t shoot himself. “But in the evening, the hotel servants were called to the unit to look at a bullet-ridden cap that had been pulled out of the water - everyone recognized that the cap was the same one that was on the road.

So, he undoubtedly shot himself, and the spirit of denial and progress was completely defeated.

Everyone agreed that he was a "fool" - and suddenly everyone started talking: on the bridge -

clever thing! this means that you don’t have to suffer for a long time if you don’t manage to shoot well - he thought wisely! from any wound he will fall into the water and choke before he comes to his senses - yes, on the bridge... smart!

Now it was absolutely impossible to make out anything - both the fool and the smart one.

FIRST CONSEQUENCE OF A STUPID CASE

That same morning, at about 12 o'clock, a young lady was sitting in one of the three rooms of a small dacha on Kamenny Island, sewing and in a low voice humming a French song, lively and bold.

“We are poor,” said the song, “but we are working people, we have healthy hands. We are dark, but we are not stupid and we want light. If we study, knowledge will free us; if we work, labor will enrich us, this will work,”

we'll live, we'll live -

Qui vivra, verra. (*)

(* Things will work out, Whoever lives will see (French), - Ed.)

We are rude, but we ourselves suffer from our rudeness. We are filled with prejudices, but we ourselves suffer from them, we feel it.

We will seek happiness, and we will find humanity, and we will become kind, - this will work, - we will live, we will live.

Work without knowledge is fruitless, our happiness is impossible without the happiness of others.

Let us be enlightened and enriched; we will be happy - and we will be brothers and sisters, - this thing will work out, - we will live, we will live.

Let's study and work, let's sing and love, there will be heaven on earth.

Let's be happy in life, - this thing will work out, it will come soon, we'll all wait for it, -

Ca bien vite ira,

Nous tous le verrons." (*)

(* So, we live, It will come soon, It will come, We will see it (French), - Ed.)

It was a bold, lively song, and its melody was cheerful - there were two or three sad notes in it, but they were covered by the general bright character of the motive, disappeared in the refrain, disappeared throughout the final verse - at least they should have been covered, disappeared , - would disappear if the lady was in a different frame of mind; but now these few sad notes sounded more audible to her than the others, she seemed to perk up, noticing this, lowered her voice at them and began to sing more loudly the cheerful sounds that replaced them, but then again she was carried away in her thoughts from the song to her thought, and again the sad sounds take over.

It is clear that the young lady does not like to succumb to sadness; it’s just clear that sadness doesn’t want to leave her, no matter how much it pushes her away. But whether the cheerful song becomes sad or becomes cheerful again, as it should be, the lady sews very diligently. She's a good seamstress.

A maid, a young girl, entered the room.

Look, Masha, what is it like for me to sew? I’ve almost finished the sleeves that I’m preparing for your wedding.

Oh, they have less pattern than the ones you embroidered for me!

Still would! If only the bride weren’t the most elegant at the wedding!

And I brought you a letter, Vera Pavlovna.

Perplexity flashed across Vera Pavlovna’s face when she began to open the letter: the envelope had a city postmark. "How is this possible?

he's in Moscow?" She hastily unfolded the letter and turned pale; her hand with the letter dropped. "No, it's not like that, I didn't have time to read it, there's nothing in the letter at all!" And she again raised her hand with the letter. It was all a matter of two seconds

But this second time, her eyes looked for a long time, motionless, at the few lines of the letter, and these bright eyes grew dim, dim, the letter fell from her weakened hands onto the sewing table, she covered her face with her hands, and began to sob. "What have I done!

What have I done!” - and again sobbing.

Verochka, what's wrong with you? Are you willing to cry? when does this happen to you? what's wrong with you?

The young man entered the room with quick but light, cautious steps.

Read... it's on the table...

She was no longer sobbing, but sat motionless, barely breathing.

The young man took the letter; and he turned pale, and his hands trembled, and he looked at the letter for a long time, although it was not large, only about a dozen words:

“I embarrassed your calm. I’m leaving the stage. Don’t be sorry; I love you both so much that I’m very happy with my determination. Farewell.”

The young man stood for a long time, rubbing his forehead, then began to twirl his mustache, then looked at the sleeve of his coat; Finally, he collected his thoughts. He took a step forward towards the young woman, who sat still, barely breathing, as if in lethargy. He took her hand:

Verochka!

But as soon as his hand touched her hand, she jumped up with a cry of horror, as if raised by an electric shock, quickly recoiled from the young man, convulsively pushed him away:

Away! Do not touch me! You're covered in blood! His blood is on you! I can not see you! I'll leave you! I'll leave! get away from me! - And she pushed, kept pushing away the empty air and suddenly staggered, fell into a chair, covered her face with her hands.

And his blood is on me! On me! It's not your fault - I'm alone... I'm alone! What have I done! What have I done!

She was choking with sobs.

Verochka,” he said quietly and timidly: “my friend...

She took a deep breath and said in a calm and still trembling voice, barely able to speak:

My dear, leave me now! Come in again in an hour, I’ll be calm. Give me some water and go away.

He obeyed silently. He entered his room, sat down again at his desk, at which he had been sitting so calm, so contented a quarter of an hour before, and took up his pen again... “At such and such moments you need to be able to control yourself; I have a will,” and everything will pass... it will pass." And the pen, without his knowledge, wrote among some article: "Will it bear it? - terrible,

Happiness is gone...

My dear! I'm ready, let's talk! - was heard from the next room.

My dear, we must part. I made up my mind. It's hard. But it would be even harder for us to see each other. I'm his killer. I killed him for you.

Verochka, what is your fault?

Don't say anything, don't justify me, or I'll hate you. It's all my fault. Forgive me, my dear, that I am making a decision that is very painful for you - and for me, my dear, too! But I cannot do otherwise; after a while you will see for yourself that this should have been done.

This is constant, my friend. Listen now. I'm leaving St. Petersburg. It will be easier to be away from places that resemble the past. I sell my things; I can live on this money for some time - where? in Tver, in Nizhny, I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. I will look for singing lessons; I’ll probably find it because I’ll settle somewhere in a big city. If I don’t find it, I’ll go to governess. I think I won't need; but if I do, I will turn to you; make sure that you have some money ready for me just in case; because you know, I have many needs and expenses, even though I am stingy; I can't do without it. Do you hear? I don't refuse your help! Let this, my friend, prove to you that you remain dear to me... And now, let's say goodbye forever! Go to town... now, now! It will be easier for me when I'm left alone. Tomorrow I won't be here anymore - then come back. I’m going to Moscow, I’ll look around there, and find out which provincial city is the best place to get lessons. I forbid you to be at the station to accompany me.

Goodbye, my dear, give me your hand in farewell, I’ll shake it for the last time.

He wanted to hug her, - she warned his movement.

No, no, no, no! It would be an insult to him. Give me a hand. I press her

See how strong it is! But forgive me!

He didn't let go of her hand.

Enough, go. - She took her hand away, he did not dare to resist. - Forgive me!

She looked at him so tenderly, but with firm steps she went into her room and never looked back at him as she left.

For a long time he could not find his hat; At least five times he took it in his hands, but did not see that he was taking it. He looked like he was drunk; Finally he realized that it was the hat he was looking for that he had on hand, he went out into the hall and put on his coat; Now he is already approaching the gate: “Who is this running after me? Surely, Masha... she must be in a bad way!” He turned around - Vera Pavlovna threw herself on his neck, hugged him, and kissed him deeply.

No, I couldn’t resist, my dear! Now, forgive me forever!

She ran away, threw herself into bed and burst into tears that she had been holding back for so long.

PREFACE

It's true, I say.

The reader is not limited to such easy conclusions - after all, a man’s thinking ability is naturally stronger and much more developed than a woman’s; he says - the reader probably also thinks this, but does not consider it necessary to say, and therefore I have no reason to argue with her - the reader says: “I know that this gentleman who shot himself did not shoot himself.” I grab the word “know” and say: you don’t know this, because this has not been told to you yet, and you only know what they will tell you; You yourself know nothing, you don’t even know that by the way I began the story, I insulted and humiliated you. You didn't know this, did you? - well, just know this.

Yes, the first pages of the story reveal that I think very poorly of the audience. I used the usual trick of novelists: I began the story with spectacular scenes, torn out from the middle or end of it, and covered them with fog.

You, the public, are kind, very kind, and therefore you are indiscriminate and slow-witted. You cannot be trusted to be able to discern from the first pages whether the content of a story will be worth reading, you have a bad instinct, it needs help, and there are two of these help: either the name of the author, or the effectiveness of the manner. I am telling you my first story, you have not yet acquired a judgment as to whether the author is gifted with artistic talent (after all, you have so many writers to whom you have assigned artistic talent), my signature would not yet have lured you in, and I had to throw a bait to you with the lure of showiness. Don’t judge me for this - it’s your own fault; your simple-minded naivety forced me to stoop to this vulgarity. But now you have already fallen into my hands, and I can continue the story, as I think it should, without any tricks. Then there will be no mystery, you will always see the denouement of each situation twenty pages in advance, and for the first time I will tell you the denouement of the whole story: it will end happily, with glasses, a song: there will be no showiness, no embellishment. The author has no time for embellishment, good public, because he keeps thinking about what confusion you have in your head, how much unnecessary, unnecessary suffering the wild confusion of your concepts causes to every person. I feel sorry and funny to look at you: you are so weak and so angry from the excessive amount of nonsense in your head.

I am angry with you because you are so angry with people, but people are you: why are you so angry with yourself? That's why I scold you. But you are angry from mental weakness, and therefore, while scolding you, I am obliged to help you. Where to start providing assistance? Yes, at least from what you are thinking now: what kind of writer is this, speaking to me so brazenly? - I'll tell you what kind of writer I am.

I don't have a shadow of artistic talent. I don’t even speak the language well. But it’s still nothing: read, kind audience! you will read it not without benefit. Truth is a good thing: it rewards the shortcomings of the writer who serves it. Therefore, I will tell you: if I had not warned you, you would probably have thought that the story was written artistically, that the author had a lot of poetic talent. But I warned you that I have no talent, -

you will now know that all the merits of the story are given to it only by its truth.

However, my kind audience, when talking to you, you need to talk everything through to the end; After all, although you are a hunter, you are not a master at guessing the unsaid. When I say that I do not have a shadow of artistic talent and that my story is very weak in execution, do not think of concluding that I am explaining to you that I am worse than those of your narrators whom you consider great, and my novel is worse than their works. That's not what I'm saying.

I say that my story is very weak in execution compared to the works of people truly gifted with talent; With the famous works of your famous writers, you can boldly rank my story next to the merits of its execution, even put it above them - you won’t be mistaken! There is still more artistry in him than in them: you can be calm about this.

Thank me; After all, you are a hunter of bowing to those who neglect you - bow to me too.

But there is a certain proportion of people in you, the public - now quite a significant proportion - whom I respect. With you, with the vast majority, I am insolent, but only with him, and only with him, have I spoken so far. With the people I have now mentioned, I would speak modestly, even timidly. But I didn't have to explain myself to them. I value their opinions, but I know in advance that it is for me. Kind and strong, honest and skillful, you recently began to appear among us, but you are no longer few, and there are more and more of you quickly. If you were an audience, I would no longer need to write; If you weren’t already there, I wouldn’t be able to write yet. But you are not yet the public, and you are already among the public - that’s why I still need and can already write.

CHAPTER FIRST

The life of Vera Pavlovna in her parents' family

Vera Pavlovna's upbringing was very ordinary. Her life before she met the medical student Lopukhov (4) was something remarkable, but not special. And even then there was something special in her actions.

Vera Pavlovna grew up in a multi-storey building on Gorokhovaya, between Sadovaya and Semenovsky Bridge. Now this house is marked with the appropriate number, and in

In 1852, when there were no such numbers (5), there was an inscription on it: “the house of the actual state councilor Ivan Zakharovich Storeshnikov.” So said the inscription; but Ivan Zakharych Storeshnikov died back in 1837, and from that time on, the owner of the house was his son, Mikhail Ivanovich, so the documents said. But the residents of the house knew that Mikhail Ivanovich was the owner’s son, and the owner of the house was Anna Petrovna.

The house was then, as it is now, large, with two gates and four entrances along the street, with three courtyards deep. On the main staircase to the street, on the ground floor, the landlady and her son lived in 1852, as they still do now. Anna Petrovna remains as she was then, a distinguished lady. Mikhail Ivanovich is now a prominent officer and then he was a prominent and handsome officer.

I don’t know who now lives on the dirtiest of the countless back staircases of the first courtyard, on the 4th floor, in the apartment to the right; and in 1852, the manager of the house, Pavel Konstantinich Rozalsky, a stout, also prominent man, lived here with his wife Marya Aleksevna, a thin, strong, tall lady, with a daughter, a grown-up girl - she was Vera Pavlovna - and

9-year-old son Fedya.

Pavel Konstantinich, in addition to managing the house, served as an assistant to the head of some department. He had no income from his position; around the house - he had, but in moderation: another would have received much more, but Pavel Konstantinich, as he himself said, knew his conscience; but the mistress was very pleased with him, and in fourteen years of management he accumulated up to ten thousand in capital. But from the owner’s pocket there were three thousand, no more; the rest grew to them from turnover, not to the detriment of the hostess: Pavel Konstantinich gave money on hand bail.

Marya Aleksevna also had capital - five thousand, as she told the gossips - in fact, more. The capital was founded 15 years ago

ago by selling a raccoon fur coat, a dress and furniture that Marya Aleksevna inherited from her brother-official. Having rescued one and a half hundred rubles, she also put them into circulation on collateral, acted much more riskily than her husband, and several times fell for the bait: some rogue took 5 rubles from her. on the security of a passport - the passport turned out to be stolen, and Marya Aleksevna had to contribute another 15 rubles to get out of the case; another swindler pawned a gold watch for 20 rubles - the watch turned out to be taken from the murdered man, and Marya Aleksevna had to pay a lot to get out of the case. But if she suffered losses, which were avoided by her husband, who was picky about accepting collateral, then her profits came faster. Special occasions to receive money were also looked for. One day, Vera Pavlovna was still little then; Marya Aleksevna would not have done this with her adult daughter, but then why not do it? The child doesn't understand! and for sure, Verochka herself would not have understood, but, thank you, the cook explained it very clearly; and the cook would not have interpreted it, because the child should not know this, but it already happened that the soul could not stand it after one of the strong fights from Marya Aleksevna for an affair with her lover (however, Matryona always had a black eye, not from Marya Aleksevna, but from a lover - and that’s good, because a cook with a black eye is cheaper!). So, one day an unprecedented familiar lady came to Marya Aleksevna, elegant, magnificent, beautiful, she came and stayed to stay.

She stayed quietly for a week, only some civilian, also handsome, kept visiting her, and gave Verochka sweets, and gave her nice dolls, and gave her two books, both with pictures; in one book there were good pictures - animals, cities; and Marya Aleksevna took the other book from Verochka when the guest left, so she only saw these pictures once, in front of him: he showed them himself. So an acquaintance stayed for a week, and everything was quiet in the house: Marya Aleksevna did not go to the cupboard all week (where there was a decanter of vodka), the key to which she did not give to anyone, and did not hit Matryona, and did not hit Verochka, and did not swear loudly . Then one night Verochka was constantly awakened by the terrible screams of her guest, and by the walking and bustle in the house. In the morning, Marya Aleksevna went to the cabinet and stood there longer than usual, and kept saying: “Thank God, it was happy, thank God!” and after that, not just fighting and swearing, as happened other times after the cupboard, but she went to bed, kissing Verochka. Then again there was peace in the house for a week, and the guest did not scream, but only did not leave the room and then left. And two days after she left, a civilian came, only a different civilian, and brought the police with him, and scolded Marya Aleksevna a lot; but Marya Aleksevna herself did not yield to him in a single word and kept repeating: “I don’t know any of your affairs. Find out in the house books who was visiting me! The Pskov merchant Savastyanova, my friend, here’s the whole story!” Finally, after quarreling and quarreling, the civilian left and did not appear again. Verochka saw this when she was eight years old, and when she was nine years old, Matryona explained to her what kind of incident it was. However, there was only one such case;

and others were different, but not so many.

When Verochka was ten years old, a girl walking with her mother to the Tolkuchy Market received an unexpected slap on the head when turning from Gorokhovaya to Sadovaya, with the remark: “You’re staring at the church, you fool, but why can’t you cross your forehead? You see, all the good people are being baptized!"

When Verochka was twelve years old, she began to go to a boarding school, and a piano teacher began to come to her - a drunk, but very kind German and a very good teacher, but, due to his drunkenness, very cheap.

When she was fourteen years old, she took care of the whole family, however, even the family was small.

When Verochka was sixteen years old, her mother began to shout at her like this:

“Wash off your face, it’s like a gypsy’s! You can’t wash it off, such a scarecrow was born, I don’t know who.” Verochka got a lot of punishment for her dark complexion, and she got used to considering herself ugly. Before, her mother used to take her around in almost rags, but now she began to dress her up. And Verochka, dressed up, goes with her mother to church and thinks: “These outfits would suit someone else, but no matter what you put on me, I’m still a gypsy - a stuffed animal, both in a chintz dress and in a silk one. But it’s good to be pretty. I wanted to be pretty!"

When Verochka turned sixteen, she stopped studying with the piano teacher and at the boarding school, and she herself began giving lessons at the same boarding school; Then her mother found other lessons for her.

Six months later, mother stopped calling Verochka a gypsy and a stuffed animal, and began to dress her up better than before, and Matryona - this was already the third Matryona, after that one: that one always had a black eye, and this one had a broken left cheekbone, but not always, - she said Verochka that her boss, Pavel Konstantinich, is going to marry her, and some important boss with an order around his neck (6).

Indeed, minor officials in the department said that the head of the department, for whom Pavel Konstantinich served, became favorable to him, and the head of the department began to express the opinion among his equals that he needed a wife, even if she was without a dowry, but a beauty, and also the opinion that Pavel Konstantinich is a good official.

How it would have ended is unknown: but the head of the department was planning for a long time, prudently, and then another case turned up.

The owner's son came to the manager to say that mother was asking Pavel Konstantinich to take samples of different wallpapers, because mother wanted to re-decorate the apartment in which she lived. Previously, such orders were given through the butler. Of course, the matter is understandable and not for such experienced people as Marya Aleksevna and her husband. The owner's son, having come in, sat for more than half an hour and deigned to have some tea (flower tea) (7). The very next day, Marya Aleksevna gave her daughter a clasp (8), which had remained unredeemed in the pawn, and ordered her daughter two new dresses, very good - the material alone cost: 40 rubles for one dress, 52 rubles for the other, and with frills and ribbons , and the style of both dresses cost 174 rubles; at least that’s what Marya Aleksevna told her husband, and Verochka knew that all the money they spent on them was less than 100 rubles - after all, purchases were also made in her presence - but after all, it was only 100 rubles. you can make two very good dresses. Verochka was happy about the dresses, she was happy about the clasp, but most of all she was happy that her mother finally agreed to buy her shoes from Korolev (9): after all, at the Tolkuchy market the shoes are so ugly, and the royal ones fit so amazingly on her feet.

The dresses were not in vain: the owner’s son got into the habit of going to the manager and, of course, talked more with his daughter than with the manager and the managers, who also, of course, carried him in their arms. Well, the mother gave instructions to her daughter, everything was as it should be - there’s nothing to describe, it’s a well-known fact.

One day, after dinner, my mother said:

Verochka, dress better. I have prepared suprise for you (10) -

Let's go to the opera, I took a ticket in the second tier, where all the generals go.

All for you, fool. I don't regret my last bit of money. Father’s stomach is already churning from spending on you. In one boarding house the madame was overpaid how much, and the piano drunk how much! You don’t feel anything about it, you ungrateful one, no, apparently you have a soul, you’re so insensitive!

All Marya Aleksevna said was no longer scolding her daughter, but what kind of scolding is this? Marya Aleksevna just spoke to Verochka like that, but she stopped scolding her a long time ago, and never hit her since the rumor about the head of the department spread.

Let's go to the opera. After the first act, the owner's son entered the box, and with him two friends - one a civilian, lean and very elegant, the other a military man, plump and simpler. They sat down and whispered a lot to each other, more and more the landlady's son with the civilian, and the military man said little. Marya Aleksevna listened attentively, understood almost every word, but could understand little, because they all spoke in French. She knew the words heels from their conversation: belle, charmante, amour, bonheur (beautiful, charming, love, happiness (French) -

Ed.) - what's the point in these words? Belle, charmante - Marya Aleksevna has been hearing for a long time that her gypsy is belle and charmante; amour - Marya Aleksevna herself sees that he is head over heels in amour; and if amour, then, of course, bonheur - what's the use of these words? But just what, will the match be soon?

Verochka, you are as ungrateful as you are,” Marya Aleksevna whispers to her daughter: “Why are you turning your snout away from them?” Did they offend you by coming in? They do you honor, you fool. Is a wedding in French a marriage, or what, Verochka? What about the bride and groom, and how to get married in French?

Verochka said.

No, I can’t hear such words... Vera, apparently you said the words to me wrong? Look at me!

No, just like that: these are the only words you won’t hear from them. Let's go, I can't stay here any longer.

What? what did you say, bastard? - Marya Aleksevna’s eyes became bloodshot.

Let's go. Then do whatever you want with me, but I won’t stay. I'll tell you why later. “Mama,” this was already said out loud: “I have a really bad headache: I can’t sit here.” I ask you to!

Verochka stood up.

The cavaliers began to fuss.

“It will pass, Verochka,” Marya Aleksevna said sternly but decorously; -

walk along the corridor with Mikhail Ivanovich, and your head will pass.

No, it won’t work: I feel very bad. Rather, mommy.

The gentlemen opened the door and wanted to lead Verochka by the arm, but she refused, the vile girl! They brought the cloaks themselves and went to put them into the carriage. Marya Aleksevna proudly looked at the lackeys: “Look, boors, what kind of gentlemen are - but this one will be my son-in-law! I’ll get such boors myself. And you break with me, break, you scoundrel - I’ll break them!” “But wait, wait,” does the son-in-law say something to her nasty girl, putting the vile proud girl into the carriage? Sante - this seems to be health, savoir - I find out, visite and in our opinion the same, permettez - I ask permission. These words did not lessen Marya Aleksevna’s anger, but we must take them into consideration. The carriage moved.

What did he tell you when he planted you?

He said that tomorrow morning he would come to find out about my health.

You're not lying, it's tomorrow?

Verochka was silent.

Happy is your god! - however, Marya Aleksevna could not resist, she pulled her daughter by the hair - only once, and then lightly. - Well, I won’t lay a finger on you, just make sure you’re happy tomorrow! Sleep well, you fool! Don't you dare cry. Look, if I see tomorrow that I’m pale or my eyes are teary! I still let it go... I won’t let it go. I won’t regret a pretty face, but at the same time I’ll disappear, so at least I’ll let myself be known.

I stopped crying a long time ago, you know.

That's it, just be more talkative with him.

Yes, I'll talk to him tomorrow.

Well, it's time to come to your senses. Fear God and have pity on your mother, poor woman!

Ten minutes passed.

Verochka, don't be angry with me. I scold you out of love, I want the best for you. You don't know how sweet children are to their mothers. I carried you in my womb for nine months! Verochka, thank me, be obedient, you will see for yourself what is to your benefit. Behave as I teach, and tomorrow he will propose!

Mama, you are wrong. He doesn't think about proposing at all.

Mama! what did they say!

I know: if it’s not about the wedding, then we know what it’s about. Yes, it was not those who attacked. We will bend him into a ram's horn. I’ll bring it to church in a sack, I’ll circle it around the head for whiskey, and you’ll be glad to see it. Well, there’s no point in talking to you much, and I’ve already said too much: girls shouldn’t know this, it’s a mother’s business.

But the girl must obey, she still doesn’t understand anything. So will you talk to him as I tell you?

Yes, I will talk to him.

And you, Pavel Konstantinich, why are you sitting like a stump? Tell her on your own behalf that you, as a father, order her to obey her mother, that her mother will not teach her anything bad.

Marya Aleksevna, you are a smart woman, but this is a dangerous matter: don’t you want to lead too coolly?

Fool! he blurted out - in front of Verochka! I’m not glad that I stirred it up!

The proverb says the truth: don’t touch the dermis, it doesn’t stink! Eco thumped! Don’t argue, but tell me: should a daughter obey her mother?

Of course it should; What can I say, Marya Aleksevna!

Well, order it like a father.

Verochka, obey your mother in everything. Your mother is a smart woman, an experienced woman. She won't teach you anything bad. As a father, I order you.

The carriage stopped at the gate.

That's enough, mummy. I told you that I would talk to him. I'm very tired. I need to rest.

Lie down, sleep. I won't bother you. This is needed by tomorrow. Get a good night's sleep.

Indeed, the entire time they were ascending the stairs, Marya Aleksevna was silent - and what did it cost her! and again, what did it cost her when Verochka went straight to her room, saying that she didn’t want to drink tea, what did it cost Marya Aleksevna to say in a gentle voice:

Verochka, come to me. - The daughter came up. - I want to bless you for your coming sleep, Verochka. Bend your head! - The daughter bent down. - God bless you, Verochka, as I bless you.

She blessed her daughter three times and gave her her hand to kiss.

No, mummy. I told you a long time ago that I would not kiss your hands. Now let me go. I really feel bad.

Oh, how Marya Aleksevna’s eyes flashed again. But she overcame herself and said meekly:

Go and rest.

As soon as Verochka undressed and put away her dress - however, this took a lot of time, because she kept thinking: she took off the bracelet and sat with it in her hand for a long time, took out the earring - and again she forgot, and a lot of time passed before she remembered that after all she was terribly tired, that after all, she could not even stand in front of the mirror, but sank down on a chair in exhaustion, as she reached her room, that she needed to quickly undress and lie down - as soon as Verochka went to bed, Marya Aleksevna entered the room with a tray, on which there was a large father's cup and a whole pile of crackers.

Eat, Verochka! Here, eat to your health! I brought it to you myself: you see, your mother remembers you! I sit and think: how did Verochka go to bed without tea? I drink it myself, but I think everything myself. So I brought it. Eat, my dear daughter!

Eat, I'll sit and look at you. Once you eat it, I'll bring you another cup.

The tea, half filled with thick, delicious cream, whetted my appetite.

Vera raised herself on her elbow and began to drink. - “How delicious tea is when it is fresh, thick and when there is a lot of sugar and cream in it! Extremely tasty!

It’s not at all like the sleeping one, with one piece of sugar, which is even disgusting. When I have my own money, I will always drink tea like this."

Thank you, mummy.

Don't sleep, I'll bring another one. - She returned with another cup of the same wonderful tea. - Eat, and I’ll sit again.

She was silent for a minute, then suddenly she spoke in a special way, sometimes in a very rapid patter, sometimes drawing out her words.

Here, Verochka, you thanked me. I haven't heard gratitude from you for a long time. You think I'm evil. Yes, I'm evil, but you can't help but be evil! And I have become weak, Verochka! Three punches made me weak, and what a summer! Yes, and you upset me, Verochka, you upset me very much! I became weak. And my life is hard, Verochka. I don't want you to live like this. Live richly. I have suffered so much, Verochka, and-and-and, and-and-and, how much! You don’t remember how your father and I lived when he was not yet a manager! Poor, and-and-and, how poorly they lived - and I was honest then, Verochka! Now I’m not honest - no, I won’t take a sin on my soul, I won’t lie to you, I won’t say that I’m honest now! Somehow, that time has long passed. You, Verochka, are learned, and I am unlearned, but I know everything that is written in your books; It also says that you shouldn’t do the same as they did to me. “They say you are dishonest!” Here is your father - he is your father, it was not Nadya’s father - he is a naked fool, and he also pricks my eyes, he abuses me! Well, anger took over me: and when, I say, in your opinion I’m not honest, then I will be like that! Nadenka was born. Well, so what was born?

Who taught me this? Who got the position? Here my sin was less than his. But they took her away from me, sent her to an orphanage - and it was impossible to find out where she was - I never saw her and I don’t know if she’s alive... I mean, where can I be alive? Well, at the present time I would not have had enough grief, but then it was not so easy - I was even more angry! Well, she became angry. Then everything went well. Who gave your father, the fool, the position? - I delivered. Who promoted him to manager? - I made it. So we began to live well. And why? - because I became dishonest and evil. I know it’s written in your books, Verochka, that only the dishonest and the wicked can live well in the world. And this is true, Verochka! Now your father has money, I provided it; and I have, maybe more than he has - I got it all myself, prepared a piece of bread for my old age. And your father, the fool, began to respect me, he began to follow my lead, I trained him! Otherwise he persecuted me and abused me. For what? Then it was not for anything, but for the fact, Verochka, that she was not evil. And in your books, Verochka, it is written that it is not good to live like this, but you think I don’t know this? Yes, it’s written in your books that if you don’t live like this, then you need to start everything in a new way, but according to the current institution you can’t live the way they say, so why don’t they start a new order? Eh, Verochka, do you think I don’t know what new orders are written in your books? - I know: good. But you and I won’t live to see them, the people are painfully stupid - where can we establish good order with such people! So let's live according to the old ways. And you live by them. What is the old order? It’s written in your books: the old order is one that robs and deceives. And this is true, Verochka. This means that when there is no new order, live according to the old one: rob and deceive; for love te6e talk - hrr...

Marya Aleksevna began to snore and collapsed.

Marya Aleksevna knew what was said in the theater, but did not yet know what came out of this conversation.

While she, upset by grief from her daughter and in frustration, poured a lot of rum into her punch, was snoring for a long time, Mikhail Ivanovich Storeshnikov was having dinner in some fashionable restaurant with other gentlemen who came to the box. There was also a fourth person in the company - a French woman who arrived with an officer. Dinner was drawing to a close

Monsieur Storeshnik! - Storeshnikov rejoiced: the Frenchwoman addressed him for the third time during dinner: - Monsieur Storeshnikov! let me call you that, it sounds nicer and is easier to pronounce - I didn’t think that I would be the only lady in your company; I was hoping to see Adele here - that would be nice, I see her so rarely.

Adele quarreled with me, unfortunately.

The officer wanted to say something, but remained silent.

“Don’t believe him, Mlle Julie,” said the civil servant, “he is afraid to reveal the truth to you, he thinks that you will be angry when you find out that he left the Frenchwoman for the Russian.”

I don’t know why we came here either! - said the officer.

No, Serge, why, when Jean asked! and I was very pleased to meet Monsieur Storeshnik. But, Monsieur Storeshnik, wow, what bad taste you have! I would have nothing to object to if you left Adele for this Georgian woman, in whose bed you were with both of them; but exchanging a French woman for a Russian... I imagine! colorless eyes, colorless thin hair, a meaningless, colorless face... to blame, not colorless, but, as you say, blood and cream, that is, a food that only your Eskimos can put into their mouths! Jean, give an ashtray to the sinner against the graces, let him sprinkle ashes on his criminal head!

“You’ve talked so much nonsense, Julie, that it’s not him, but you who need to sprinkle ashes on your head,” said the officer: “after all, the one you called Georgian is the Russian.”

Are you laughing at me?

“Pure Russian,” said the officer.

Impossible!

You are wrong to think, dear Julie, that our nation has the same type of beauty as yours. Yes, and you have a lot of blondes. And we, Julie, are a mixture of tribes, from white-haired, like the Finns (“Yes, yes, Finns,” the Frenchwoman noted to herself), to black, much blacker than the Italians, - these are Tatars, Mongols (“Yes, Mongols, I know,” she noted French for myself) - they all gave a lot of their blood to ours! Our blondes you hate are just one of the local types

The most common, but not dominant.

It is amazing! but she's great! Why doesn't she go on stage?

However, gentlemen, I am only talking about what I saw. The question remains, a very important one: her leg? Your great poet Karasen, they told me, said that in all of Russia there are not five pairs of small and slender legs. (eleven)

Julie, it was not Karasen who said this - and it’s better to call him: Karamzin, - Karamzin was a historian, and even then not a Russian, but a Tatar (12), - here is new proof of the diversity of our types. Pushkin said about legs - his poems were good for their time, but now they have lost most of their value.

By the way, Eskimos live in America, and our savages who drink deer blood are called Samoyeds (13).

Thank you, Serge. Karamzin - historian; Pushkin - I know; Eskimos in America; Russians are Samoyeds; yes, Samoyeds - but it sounds very cute sa-mo-e-dy! Now I will remember. I, gentlemen, order Serge to tell me all this when we are alone, or not in our company. This is very useful for conversation. Moreover, science is my passion; I was born to be m-me Steel (14), gentlemen. But this is an extraneous episode. Back to the question: her leg?

If you allow me to come to you tomorrow, Mlle Julie, I will have the honor of bringing her shoe to you.

Bring it, I'll try it on. This piques my curiosity.

Storeshnikov was delighted: how? - he barely clung to Jean's tail, Jean barely clung to Serge's tail, Julie is one of the first Frenchwomen among the Frenchwomen of Serge's society - an honor, a great honor!

The leg is satisfactory,” Jean confirmed: “but as a positive person, I am interested in more significant things.” I looked at her bust.

The bust is very good,” said Storeshnikov, encouraged by favorable reviews of the subject of his taste, and already planning that he could compliment Julie, which he had not yet dared to do: “her bust is charming, although, of course, praising the bust of another woman here is sacrilege.”

Ha, ha, ha! This gentleman wants to compliment my bust! I am not a hypocritic (15) and not a liar, Monsieur Storeshnik: I do not boast and do not tolerate others praising me for what is bad with me. Thank God, I still have enough left that I can truly boast about. But my bust - ha, ha, ha!

Jean, have you seen my bust - tell him! Are you silent, Jean? Your hand, Monsieur Storeshnik,” she grabbed his hand, “do you feel that this is not a body?”

Try again here - and here - now you know? I wear a false bust, just like I wear a dress, a skirt, a shirt, not because I like it - in my opinion, it would be better without these hypocrites - but because it is so accepted in society. But a woman who lived as long as I did - and how she lived, Monsieur Storeshnik! I am now a saint, a schema-monster before what I was - such a woman cannot keep her bust! - And suddenly she cried: - my bust! my bust! my purity! oh god, was that when I was born?

“You are lying, gentlemen,” she shouted, jumped up and hit the table with her fist: “you are slandering!” You low people! She is not his mistress! he wants to buy it! I saw how she turned away from him, burning with indignation and hatred. This is disgusting!

Yes,” said the civilian, lazily stretching: “you boasted, Storeshnikov; your matter is not over yet, and you already said that you live with her, you even broke up with Adele to better reassure us. Yes, you described it to us very well, but you described something that you had not yet seen; however, that’s nothing; not a week before today, but a week after today - it’s all the same. And you will not be disappointed in the descriptions you made from your imagination; you will find even better than you think. I considered: you will be satisfied.

Storeshnikov was beside himself with rage:

No, Mlle Julie, you were deceived, I dare to assure you, in your conclusion;

Forgive me for daring to contradict you, but she is my mistress. It was an ordinary love quarrel out of jealousy; she saw that during the first act I was sitting in Mlle Matilda’s box - that’s all!

You’re lying, my dear, you’re lying,” said Jean and yawned.

I'm not lying, I'm not lying.

Prove it. I am a positive person and don’t believe without evidence.

What evidence can I present to you?

Well, so you back away and incriminate yourself that you are lying. What evidence?

Looks like it's hard to find? Here you go: tomorrow we are going to have dinner here again.

Mlle Julie will be so kind that she will bring Serge, I will bring my dear Bertha, you will bring her. If you bring it, I lost, dinner is at my expense; If you don’t bring it, you’ll be expelled from our circle with shame! - Jean pulled the sonnet;

a servant entered. - Simon, be so kind: tomorrow is dinner for six people, exactly the same as it was when I got married to Bertha - remember, before Christmas?

And in the same room.

How can you not remember such a dinner, monsieur! Will be done.

The servant left.

Vile people! nasty people! I was a street woman in Paris for two years, I lived for six months in a house where thieves gathered, I have never met three such low people together! My God, with whom am I forced to live in society? Why such a shame, oh my God? - She fell to her knees. - God! I'm a weak woman!

I knew how to endure hunger, but it’s so cold in Paris in winter! The cold was so strong, the seductions were so cunning! I wanted to live, I wanted to love - God! After all, this is not a sin, why are you punishing me like this? Take me out of this circle, take me out of this mud! Give me the strength to become a street woman in Paris again, I don’t ask you for anything else, I’m unworthy of anything else, but free me from these people, from these vile people! - She jumped up and ran up to the officer: - Serge, are you the same? No, you are better than them! (“Better,” the officer remarked phlegmatically.) Isn’t that disgusting?

Disgusting, Julie.

And you are silent? do you allow it? do you agree? are you participating?

Sit on my lap, my sweet Julie. - He began to caress her, she calmed down. - How I love you at such moments! You are a nice woman. Well, why don’t you agree to marry me? how many times have I asked you about this!

Agree.

Marriage? yoke? prejudice? Never! I forbade you to tell me such nonsense. Don't make me angry. But... Serge, dear Serge! forbid him! he is afraid of you - save her!

Julie, be cool. This is impossible. It’s not him, it’s someone else, it doesn’t matter. Well, look, Jean is already thinking about taking her away from him, and there are thousands of such Jeans, you know. You can’t save it from everyone when a mother wants to sell her daughter.

You can’t break through a wall with your forehead, we Russians say. We're smart people, Julie. You see how calmly I live, having accepted this Russian principle of ours.

Never! You are a slave, the Frenchwoman is free. The Frenchwoman is struggling - she falls, but she fights! I won't allow it! Who is she? Where she lives? You know?

Let's go to her. I'll warn her.

At one o'clock in the morning? Let's go to sleep better. Goodbye, Jean. Goodbye, Storeshnikov. Of course, you won't be expecting Julie and me for your dinner tomorrow: you can see how annoyed she is. And to be honest, I don’t like this story either. Of course you don't care about my opinion. Goodbye.

What a mad Frenchwoman,” said the civilian, stretching and yawning when the officer and Julie left. - A very piquant woman, but this is too much.

It’s very nice to see a pretty woman wake up (16), but I couldn’t get along with her for four hours, let alone four years. Of course, Storeshnikov, our dinner is not upset by her whim. I'll bring Paul and Matilda instead. And now it's time to go home. I still need to call on Bertha and then little Lotchen, who is very sweet.

Well, Vera, okay. The eyes are not crying. Apparently, she realized that her mother was telling the truth, otherwise she kept rearing up, - Verochka made an impatient movement, - well, okay, I won’t talk, don’t be upset. And yesterday I fell asleep in your room, maybe I said something unnecessary. I was not in my best form yesterday. Don’t believe what I said out of drunken eyes, do you hear? do not believe.

Verochka again saw the old Marya Aleksevna. Yesterday it seemed to her that human features were peeking out from under the beastly shell, now she’s a beast again, and that’s all. Verochka tried hard to overcome her disgust, but she couldn’t. Before she only hated her mother, yesterday she thought that she would stop hating her and would only feel sorry for her - now again she felt hatred, but pity also remained in her.

Get dressed, Verochka! Look, he'll come soon. “She examined her daughter’s outfit very carefully. “If you behave smartly, I’ll give you earrings with large emeralds - they’re an old style, but if you remake them, they’ll make a good brooch.” The deposit was left for 150 rubles, with interest of 250, but they cost more than 400. Hey, I’ll give it to you.

Storeshnikov appeared. For a long time yesterday he did not know how to cope with the task that he had brought upon himself; he walked home from the restaurant and kept thinking. But I came home already calm - I came up with it while I was walking - and now I was pleased with myself.

He inquired about Vera Pavlovna’s health - “I’m healthy”; he said that he was very glad, and made a speech about the fact that one should use one’s health, -

“of course, it’s necessary,” and in Marya Aleksevna’s opinion, “and with youth too”; he completely agrees with this, and thinks that it would be good to take advantage of this evening for a trip out of town: the day is frosty, the road is wonderful. -Who is he thinking of going with? "Only the three of us: you, Marya Aleksevna, Vera Pavlovna and me." In this case, Marya Aleksevna completely agrees; but now she’ll go make coffee and a snack, and Verochka will sing something. “Verochka, will you sing something?” she adds in a tone that allows no objections. -

Verochka sat down at the piano and sang “Troika” - then this song had just been set to music, (17) - in the opinion nourished by Marya Aleksevna behind the door, this song is very good: the girl stared at the officer -

Verka, whenever she wants, she’s smart, she’s a rogue! - Soon Verochka stopped: and that’s all true;

Marya Aleksevna ordered this: sing a little, and then start talking. - So, Verochka says, only, to Marya Aleksevna’s chagrin, in French, “What a fool I am, I forgot to say it in Russian”; - but Vera speaks quietly...

smiled, “well, that means it’s okay, okay.” Why did he just bulge his eyes?

However, a fool is a fool, he only knows how to blink his eyes. And that’s what we need. So, I gave him my hand - Verka has become smart, I praise him.

Monsieur Storeshnikov, I must speak to you seriously. Yesterday you took the box to expose me to your friends as your mistress. I will not tell you that this is dishonest: if you were able to understand this, you would not do it. But I warn you: if you dare to approach me in the theater, on the street, anywhere, I will slap you in the face. Mother will torture me (that’s where Verochka smiled), but let it be with me, whatever happens, it doesn’t matter!

This evening you will receive a note from my mother saying that our skating was interrupted because I am sick.

He stood and blinked his eyes, as Marya Aleksevna had already noticed.

I speak to you as to a person in whom there is not a spark of honor. But maybe you are not completely corrupted yet. If so, I ask you: stop visiting us. Then I will forgive you for your slander. If you agree, give me your hand,” she extended her hand to him: he took it, not understanding what he was doing.

Thank you. Go away. Tell him that you need to hurry and prepare the horses for the trip.

He blinked his eyes again. She already turned to the notes and continued

"Troika". It’s a pity that there were no experts: it was interesting to listen: it’s true that they didn’t often hear singing with such a feeling; there was even too much feeling, not artistic.

A minute later, Marya Aleksevna came in and the cook brought in a tray with coffee and snacks. Mikhail Ivanovich, instead of sitting down for coffee, backed towards the door.

Where are you going, Mikhail Ivanovich?

I’m in a hurry, Marya Aleksevna, to dispose of the horses.

You’ll still have time, Mikhail Ivanovich. - But Mikhail Ivanovich was already outside the door.

Marya Aleksevna rushed from the front hall into the hall with her fists raised.

What did you do, damned Verka? A? - but the damned Verka was no longer in the hall; the mother rushed to her room, but the door of Vera’s room was locked: the mother pushed her whole body against the door to break it down, but the door did not move, and the damned Verka said:

If you break down the door, I will break the window and call for help. But I will not fall into your hands alive.

Marya Aleksevna raged for a long time, but did not break the door; I finally got tired of screaming. Then Verochka said:

Mama, before I just didn’t love you; and since last night I’ve felt sorry for you. You had a lot of grief, and that’s why you became like this. I haven’t spoken to you before, but now I want to speak only when you are not angry. Then we’ll have a good talk, like we haven’t talked before.

Of course, Marya Aleksevna did not really take these words to heart; but tired nerves ask for rest, and Marya Aleksevna began to wonder: wouldn’t it be better to enter into negotiations with her daughter when she, the scoundrel, is completely getting out of hand? After all, nothing can be done without her, because without her you can’t marry Fool Mishka to her! But it’s still unknown what she said to him - after all, they shook hands - what does that mean?

So tired Marya Aleksevna sat, pondering between ferocity and cunning, when the bell rang. It was Julie and Serge.

Serge, does her mother speak French? - was Julie’s first word when she woke up.

Don't know; Haven't you gotten this thought out of your head yet?

No, I didn't throw it away. And when, having realized all the signs in the theater, they decided that this girl’s mother must not speak French, Julie took Serge with her as an interpreter. However, such was his fate that he would have had to go, even if Verochka’s mother was Cardinal Mezzofanti (18); and he did not complain about fate, but traveled everywhere, with Julie, like the confidante of Corneille’s heroine (19). Julie woke up late, on the way she stopped by Vikhman (20), and then, not on the way, but out of necessity, to four more shops. In this way, Mikhail Ivanovich managed to explain himself, Marya Aleksevna managed to get angry and sit up until Julie and Serge got from Liteinaya to Gorokhovaya.

And under what pretext did we come? wow, what an ugly staircase!

I didn’t know anyone like them in Paris either.

It doesn't matter what you want. Mother gives money as a deposit, take off the brooch.

Or, even better: she gives piano lessons. Let's say you have a niece.

For the first time in her life, Matryona was ashamed of her broken cheekbone, seeing Serge’s uniform and especially the splendor of Julie: she had never seen such an important lady face to face. Marya Aleksevna came into the same reverence and indescribable amazement when Matryona announced that Colonel NN and his wife had deigned to welcome. Especially this: “with my wife!” - That circle, gossip about which descended to Marya Aleksevna, rose only to the truly high-status stratum of society, and gossip about real aristocrats already froze in space halfway to Marya Aleksevna; That’s why she understood in the full legal sense the names “husband and wife” that Serge and Julie gave each other according to Parisian custom. Marya Aleksevna quickly recovered and ran out.

Serge said that he was very happy about yesterday’s incident, etc., that his wife has a niece, etc., that his wife does not speak Russian and that’s why he is a translator.

Yes, I can thank my creator,” said Marya Aleksevna: “Verochka has a great talent for teaching the piano, and I am blessed that she will be able to enter such a house; only my teacher is not entirely healthy, -

Marya Aleksevna spoke especially loudly so that Verochka would hear and understand the appearance of the truce, and she herself, with all the reverence, fixed her eyes on the guests: “I don’t know if she will be able to come out and show you her test on the piano.” - Verochka, my friend, can you come out or not?

Some strangers - there won't be a scene - why not come out?

Verochka unlocked the door, looked at Serge and flushed with shame and anger.

Even bad eyes could not have failed to notice this, and Julie had eyes almost more shameful than Marya Aleksevna herself. The Frenchwoman began directly:

My dear child, you are surprised and embarrassed to see the person in whose presence you were so insulted yesterday, who probably himself participated in the insults. My husband is frivolous, but he is still better than others. Excuse him for me, I came to you with good intentions. Lessons for my niece are just an excuse; but we need to support him. You play something, in short, we will go to your room and talk. Listen to me, my child.

Is this the same Julie that all the aristocratic youth of St. Petersburg knows? Is this the Julie who does things that make other rakes blush? No, this is a princess, to whose ears not a single rude word has ever reached.

Verochka sat down to do her test on the piano. Julie stood next to her, Serge was engaged in a conversation with Marya Aleksevna in order to find out what exactly her affairs were with Storeshnikov. A few minutes later, Julie stopped Verochka, took her by the waist, walked with her around the hall, then took her to her room. Serge explained that his wife was pleased with Verochka’s performance, but wanted to talk to her, because she needed to know the teacher’s character, etc., and continued to direct the conversation to Storeshnikov. All this was wonderful, but Marya Aleksevna looked more and more keenly and suspiciously.

My dear child,” said Julie, entering Verochka’s room: “your mother is a very bad woman.” But what should I know, how to talk to you, please tell me how and why you were at the theater yesterday? I already know all this from my husband, but from your story I learn your character. Don't be afraid of me. -

After listening to Verochka, she said: “Yes, I can talk to you, you have character,” and in the most careful, delicate terms she told her about yesterday’s bet; Verochka responded to this with a story about the offer to ride.

Well, did he want to deceive your mother, or were they both conspiring against you? - Verochka began to say passionately that her mother was not such a bad woman as to be in a conspiracy. “I’ll see it now,” said Julie.

You stay here - you are superfluous there. - Julie returned to the hall.

Serge, he already invited this woman and her daughter to ride this evening.

Tell her about yesterday's dinner.

My wife likes your daughter, now we just need to agree on a price and we probably won’t break up over it. But let me finish our conversation about our mutual friend. You praise him very much. Do you know what he says about his relationship with your family - for example, for what purpose did he invite us to your box yesterday?

In Marya Aleksevna’s eyes, instead of an inquisitive look, meaning flashed:

"this is true".

“I’m not a gossip,” she answered with displeasure: “I don’t spread the news myself and I don’t listen to them much.” - This was said not without causticism, despite all her reverence for the visitor. “You never know what young people chatter among themselves;

there is no point in doing this.

Good with; well, but this is what you call gossip. - He began to tell the story of the dinner. Marya Aleksevna did not let him finish: as soon as he uttered the first word about the bet, she jumped up and screamed furiously, completely forgetting the importance of the guests:

So here they are, what kind of things! Oh, he is a robber. Oh, he's a bastard. So that’s why he called for a ride! he wanted to send me outside the city to the next world in order to dishonor a defenseless girl! Oh, he is a scoundrel! - and so on. Then she began to thank the guest for saving her life and the honor of her daughter. - Well, father, I already guessed at first that you had come for some reason, that lessons were lessons, and your goal was different, but I didn’t think so; I thought you had another bride prepared for him, you want to take him away from us, - I sinned on you, you damned one, forgive me generously. Here, one might say, they have been blessed to the grave, etc. Curses, gratitude, apologies flowed for a long time in a disorderly stream.

Julie did not listen for long to this endless speech, the meaning of which was clear to her from the tone of voice and gestures; From Marya Aleksevna’s first words, the Frenchwoman stood up and returned to Verochka’s room.

Yes, your mother was not his accomplice and is now very irritated against him. But I know people like your mother well. Their feelings will not hold out for long against monetary calculations; she will soon begin to catch the groom again, and God knows how this may end; in any case, it will be very difficult for you. At first she will leave you alone; but I tell you that it won't be for long. What should you do now? Do you have relatives in St. Petersburg?

It's a pity. Do you have a lover? - Verochka didn’t know how to respond to this, she just opened her eyes strangely. - Sorry, sorry, it’s obvious, but it’s even worse. So you don't have shelter. How to be? Well, listen. I'm not what you thought I was. I am not his wife, I am his support. I am known throughout St. Petersburg as the worst woman. But I'm an honest woman. Come to me -

for you it means losing your reputation; It’s also quite dangerous for you that I’ve already been to this apartment once, and coming to you a second time would probably ruin you. Meanwhile, I need to see you again, perhaps more than once - that is, if you trust me, Yes? - So when can you have yourself tomorrow?

About twelve o’clock,” said Verochka. This is a little early for Julie, but all the same, she orders to wake herself up and meet with Verochka in that line of Gostiny Dvor, which is opposite to Nevsky (21); she is the shortest, it’s easy to find each other there, and no one knows Julie there.

Yes, here’s another happy thought: give me the papers, I’ll write a letter to this scoundrel so I can take him into his hands. - Julie wrote: “Monsieur Storeshnikov, you are now probably in great difficulty; if you want to get rid of him, be with me at 7 o’clock. M. Le Tellier” (22). - Now goodbye!

Julie extended her hand, but Verochka threw herself on her neck, and kissed her, and cried, and kissed her again. And Julie even more so could not stand it, - after all, she was not as restrained from tears as Verochka, and the joy and joy were very touching to her. pride that she is doing a noble deed; she went into ecstasy, talked and talked, all with tears and kisses, and concluded with an exclamation:

My friend, my dear child! Oh, God forbid you ever know how I feel now, when after many years clean lips touch my lips for the first time. Die, but don't give a kiss without love!

Storeshnikov’s plan was not as homicidal as Marya Aleksevna suggested: she, in her manner, gave the matter too rough a form, but she guessed the essence of the matter. Storeshnikov thought later in the evening to take his ladies to a restaurant where dinner was going to take place; Of course, they were all cold and hungry, they needed to warm up and drink tea; he will pour opium into Marya Aleksevna’s cup or glass; Verochka will be confused when she sees her mother without feelings; he will take Verochka into the room where there is dinner - the bet has already been won; what's next - how it will happen.

Perhaps Verochka, in her confusion, will not understand anything and will agree to sit in an unfamiliar company, and if she leaves now, it will be okay, they will excuse it, because she has just entered the field of adventuress and, naturally, will be ashamed at first. Then he will settle the money with Marya Aleksevna - after all, she will have nothing to do.

But now what should he do? he cursed his boastfulness in front of his friends, his lack of resourcefulness in the face of Verochka’s sudden steep resistance, and wished himself to fall into the ground. And in this kind of frustration and contrition of spirit - a letter from Julie, a healing balm for a wound, a ray of salvation in impenetrable darkness, a highway under the foot of someone drowning in a bottomless swamp.

Oh, she will help, she is the smartest woman, she can think of anything!

noblest woman! - About ten minutes before 7 o’clock, he was already in front of her door, - “They deigned to wait and ordered to accept.”

How majestically she sits, how sternly she looks! barely bowed her head in response to his bow. “I’m very glad to see you, please sit down.” - Not a single muscle moved in her face. There will be a strong headache - nothing, scold, just save.

Monsieur Storeshnik,” she began in a cold, slow tone: “you know my opinion about the matter on which we see each other now and which, therefore, I do not need to characterize again.” I saw the young lady about whom we were talking yesterday, I heard about your current visit to them, therefore, I know everything, and I am very glad that this saves me from the difficult need to ask you about anything. Your position is clear to me and to you with equal certainty (“Lord, it would be better if she cursed!” thinks the defendant). It seems to me that you cannot get out of it without outside help, and you cannot expect successful help from anyone except me. If you have anything to say, I'm waiting. - So (after a pause), you, like me, believe that no one else is able to help you, - listen to what I can and want to do for you; If the benefit I offer seems sufficient to you, I will state the conditions under which I agree to provide it.

And in the same long, long manner of official presentation, she said that she could send Jean a letter in which she would say that after yesterday’s outburst she had changed her mind, wanted to participate in the dinner, but that this evening was already busy for her, that therefore she was asking Jean to persuade Storeshnikov to postpone dinner - she will agree on the time with Jean later. She read this letter - in the letter she could hear the confidence that Storeshnikov would win the bet, that he would be annoyed to delay his triumph. Will this letter be enough? - Certainly. In that case,” Julie continues in the same long, long tone of official notes, “she will send the letter on two conditions - “you may or may not accept them, - you accept them, - I send the letter; you reject them, - I I’m burning a letter,” etc., all in the same endless manner, drawing the soul out of the person being saved. Finally, the conditions. There are two of them: - “First: you stop all persecution of the young lady we are talking about;

second: you stop mentioning her name in your conversations." - "Only -

thinks the person being rescued: “I thought she would demand the devil knows what, and the devil knows what he would be ready for.” He agrees, and on his face there is delight at the ease of conditions, but Julie is not softened by anything, and keeps dragging on, and that’s all. explains... “the first is necessary for her, the second is also for her, but even more so for you: I will put off dinner for a week, then for another week, and the matter will be forgotten; but you will understand that others will forget him only if you do not remind him of him in any word about the young lady about whom,” etc.

etc. And everything is explained, everything is proven, even that the letter will be received by Jean on time. - “I checked, he’s having lunch at Bertha’s,” etc., - “he’ll go to you when he finishes smoking his cigar,” etc., and everything like that and, for example, like this: “So, the letter is being sent, I'm very glad. Take the trouble to read it again, - I don't have and don't require trust. You read it, - take the trouble to seal it yourself, - here's the envelope. - I'm calling. - Polina, will you take the trouble to hand over this letter," etc. - “Polina, I haven’t seen Monsieur Storeshnik today, he wasn’t here - do you understand?” “This painful rescue lasted for about an hour. Finally, the letter is sent, and the rescued man breathes more freely, but sweat pours from him like hail, and Julie continues:

In a quarter of an hour you will have to rush home so that Jean will find you. But you still have a quarter of an hour, and I will use it to say a few words to you; you may or may not follow the advice they contain, but you will consider it maturely. I will not talk about the duties of an honest man regarding the girl whose name he compromised: I know our secular youth too well to expect any benefit from considering this side of the issue. But I think that marrying the young lady we are talking about would be beneficial to you. As a straightforward woman, I will tell you the reasons for this opinion of mine with complete clarity, although some of them are sensitive to your ears - however, your slightest word will be enough for me to stop. You are a person of weak character and risk falling into the hands of a bad woman who will torment you and play with you. She is kind and noble, so she would not offend you. Marrying her, despite her low origins and, in comparison with you, poverty, would greatly advance your career: she, being introduced into the big world, with your money, with her beauty, intelligence and strength of character, would occupy a place in it brilliant place; The benefits of this for any husband are clear.

But, in addition to the benefits that any other husband would receive from such a wife, you, due to the peculiarities of your nature, more than anyone else, need assistance,

Let me put it more bluntly: in the leadership. Every word I said was weighed; each -

based on observation of her. I do not require trust, but I encourage you to consider my advice. I strongly doubt that she will accept your hand; but if she accepted it, it would be very advantageous to you. I won’t hold you back any longer, you need to hurry home.

Marya Aleksevna, of course, no longer claimed Verochka’s refusal to skate when she saw that Mishka the Fool was not such a fool at all, and had almost even tricked her. Verochka was left alone and the next morning, without any hindrance, she went to Gostiny Dvor.

It’s frosty here, I don’t like the cold,” said Julie: “we need to go somewhere.” Wherever? wait, I'll be right back from this store. - She bought a thick veil for Verochka. - Put it on, then you can go to me safely. Just don't raise the veil until we're alone. Polina is very modest, but I don’t want her to see you either. I protect you too much, my child! - Indeed, she herself was wearing her maid’s coat and hat and under a thick veil. When Julie warmed up and listened to everything new Verochka had, she told about her date with Storeshnikov.

Now, my dear child, there is no doubt that he will propose to you. These people fall head over heels in love when their advances are rejected.

Do you know, my child, that you treated him like an experienced coquette?

Coquetry - I’m talking about real coquetry, and not about stupid, mediocre counterfeits of it: they are disgusting, like any bad counterfeit of a good thing - coquetry is intelligence and tact when applied to the affairs of a woman with a man.

Therefore, completely naive girls without intention act like experienced coquettes, if they have intelligence and tact. Perhaps my arguments will partially influence him, but the main thing is your firmness. - Be that as it may, he will make you an offer, I advise you to accept it.

You, who yesterday told me: it is better to die than to give a kiss without love?

My dear child, this was said in passion; in moments of passion it is true and good! But life is prose and calculation.

No, never, never! He's disgusting, it's disgusting! I won’t see you, let them eat me, I’ll throw myself out of the window, I’ll go collect alms... but to give your hand to a nasty, low person - no, it’s better to die.

Julie began to explain the benefits: you will get rid of your mother’s persecution, you are in danger of being sold, he is not angry, but only narrow-minded, a narrow-minded and kindly husband is better than any other for an intelligent woman with character, you will be the mistress of the house. She described in vivid colors the position of actresses and dancers who do not submit to men in love, but dominate them: “this is the best position in the world for a woman, except for the position when the same independence and power is also accompanied by formal recognition from society the legality of such a situation, that is, when a husband treats his wife as an actress’s admirer treats an actress.” She talked a lot, Verochka talked a lot, they both got excited, Verochka finally reached the point of pathos.

You call me a dreamer, asking what I want from life?

I don’t want to rule or obey, I don’t want to deceive or pretend, I don’t want to look at the opinions of others, to achieve what others recommend to me when I don’t need it myself. I’m not used to wealth - I don’t need it myself - why would I look for it just because others think that it is pleasant to everyone and, therefore, should be pleasant to me? I have not been in society, have not experienced what it means to shine, and I do not yet have an attraction to it - why would I sacrifice anything for a brilliant position just because, in the opinion of others, it is pleasant?

For what I myself do not need, I will not sacrifice anything, not only myself, I will not sacrifice even the slightest whim. I want to be independent and live my own way; whatever I need myself, I’m ready for; What I don’t need, I don’t want and don’t want. What I will need, I don’t know; you say: I’m young, inexperienced, I’ll change with time - well, when I change, then I’ll change, but now I don’t want, I don’t want, I don’t want anything that I don’t want! What do I want now, you ask? - well, yes, I don’t know that. Do I want to love a man? “I don’t know, because yesterday morning, when I got up, I didn’t know that I would want to love you; a few hours before I fell in love with you, I didn’t know that I would love you, and I didn’t know how I would feel when I loved you. So now I don’t know what I will feel if I fall in love with a man, I only know that I don’t want to give in to anyone, I want to be free, I don’t want to owe anything to anyone, so that no one dares to tell me: you have to do for me anything! I want to do only what I want, and let others do the same; I don’t want to demand anything from anyone, I want not to restrict anyone’s freedom and I want to be free myself.

Julie listened and thought, thought and blushed, and - after all, she could not help but flush when there was a fire nearby - she jumped up and spoke in a broken voice:

Yes, my child, yes! I myself would have felt this way if I had not been corrupted. I am not corrupted by what they call a woman dead, not by what happened to me, by what I suffered, by what I suffered, not by the fact that my body was given over to desecration, but by the fact that I am accustomed to idleness, to luxury. , unable to live by myself, needing others, pleasing, doing what I don’t want - this is depravity! Don’t listen to what I told you, my child: I corrupted you - what a torment! I cannot touch something pure without desecrating it; run away from me, my child, I am an ugly woman - don’t think about the light! Everyone there is disgusting, worse than me; where there is idleness, there is vileness, where there is luxury, there is vileness! - run Run!

Storeshnikov began to think more and more often: how can I really marry her? An incident happened to him that is very common in the lives of not only people of his kind who are not independent, but even people with an independent character. Even in the history of nations: the volumes of Hume and Gibbon, Ranke and Thierry are filled with these cases (23); people push, push in one direction only because they don’t hear the words: “but try, brothers, push in the other direction,” they hear and start turning around to the right, and start pushing in the other direction. Storeshnikov heard and saw that rich young men acquire pretty, poor girls as mistresses - well, he tried to make Verochka his mistress: no other word came to his mind; he heard another word: “you can get married,” - well, he began to think about the topic “wife,” as he had previously thought about the topic “mistress.”

This is a general feature by which Storeshnikov very satisfactorily depicted in his person nine-tenths of the history of the human race. But historians and psychologists say that in every particular fact there is a common cause

“individualized” (in their expression) by local, temporary, tribal and personal elements, and as if they, the special elements, are important - that is, that although all spoons are spoons, everyone slurps soup or cabbage soup the spoon that he has, right here in his hand, and that it is this particular spoon that needs to be examined. Why not consider it?

The main thing has already been said by Julie (as if she had read the Russian novels that everyone mentions this!): resistance fuels the hunt. Storeshnikov used to dream about how he would “possess” Verochka. Like Julie, I like to call rude things by the direct names of the rude and vulgar language in which almost all of us almost constantly think and speak. Storeshnikov had been imagining Verochka in different poses for several weeks, and he wanted these pictures to come true. It turned out that she would not realize them in the title of mistress - well, let her realize them in the title of wife; it’s all the same, the main thing is not the title, but the posture, that is, possession. Oh, dirt! oh, dirt! - "to possess"

Who dares to possess a person? They have a robe and shoes. - Trifles: almost every one of us men has one of you, our sisters; trifles again: what kind of sisters are you to us? - you are our lackeys! Some of you - many -

They rule over us - that’s nothing: after all, many lackeys rule over their bars.

Thoughts about poses played out in Storeshnikov after the theater with such force as never before. Having shown his friends the mistress of his fantasy, he saw that the mistress was much better, and that most people assessed any other merit accurately only by general feedback. Everyone sees that a beautiful face is beautiful, but to what extent is it beautiful, how can you figure it out until the rank is determined by a diploma? Verochka, of course, was not noticed in the gallery or in the last rows of chairs; but when she appeared in the box

2nd tier, a lot of binoculars were pointed at her; and how much praise Storeshnikov heard about her when, after seeing her off, he went to the foyer! and Serge? oh, this is a man with the most delicate taste! - and Julie? - well, no, when such happiness pecks, there is no need to figure out under what title to “possess” it.

Self-love was irritated along with voluptuousness. But it was also touched on from the other side: “she is unlikely to marry you” - how? won’t marry him, with such a uniform and house? no, you're lying, Frenchwoman, she'll do! it'll do, it'll do!

There was another reason of the same kind: Storeshnikov’s mother, of course, would oppose the marriage - the mother in this case is a representative of the world -

and Storeshnikov was still a coward to his mother and, of course, was burdened by his dependence on her. For people without character, the thought is very attractive: “I am not afraid; I have character.”

Of course, there was also a desire to advance in his secular career through his wife.

And to all this was added that Storeshnikov did not dare to appear to Verochka in his previous role, and yet he was drawn to look at her.

In a word, Storeshnikov was thinking more and more strongly about getting married every day, and a week later, when Marya Aleksevna, on Sunday, returning from late mass, was sitting and thinking about how to catch him, he himself appeared with a proposal. Verochka did not leave her room; he could only talk to Marya Aleksevna.

Marya Aleksevna, of course, said that she, for her part, considers herself a great honor, but, as a loving mother, she must find out her daughter’s opinion and asks for an answer tomorrow morning.

Well, well done, my girl Vera,” Marya Aleksevna said to her husband, surprised at such a quick turn of events: “look how she took the good fellow into her hands!” And I thought and thought, I didn’t know how to apply my mind! I thought it would be a lot of trouble for me to lure him again, I thought the whole thing would be spoiled, but she, my dear, did not spoil it, but led to a good end - she knew what to do. Well, it’s cunning, there’s nothing to say.

“The Lord makes babies wise,” said Pavel Konstantinich.

He rarely played a role in home life. But Marya Aleksevna was a strict guardian of good traditions, and on such a ceremonial occasion as the announcement of her daughter’s proposal, she assigned her husband the honorable role that rightfully belongs to the head of the family and ruler. Pavel Konstantinich and Marya Aleksevna sat down on the sofa, as if in a most solemn place, and sent Matryona to ask the young lady to come to them.

Vera,” Pavel Konstantinich began, “Mikhail Ivanovich does us honor and asks for your hand.” We answered, like parents who love you, that we will not force you, but that on the one hand we are glad. You, like the kind, obedient daughter that we have always seen you as, will rely on our experience that we did not dare to ask such a groom from God. Do you agree, Vera?

No,” said Verochka.

What are you saying, Vera? - Pavel Konstantinich shouted; the matter was so clear that he too could shout without asking his wife what to do.

Are you crazy, fool? Dare to repeat it, you disobedient scoundrel! - Marya Aleksevna shouted, rising with her fists at her daughter.

“Excuse me, mummy,” said Vera, getting up: “if you touch me, I will leave the house, forbidden, I will throw myself out of the window.” I knew how you would accept my refusal, and I thought about what I should do. Sit down and sit, or I'll leave.

Marya Aleksevna sat down again. “What a stupid thing to do, the front door is not locked with a key! She pulls the latch in one second - you won’t catch it, she’ll leave! She’s mad!”

I won't marry him. They won't get married without my consent.

Vera, you’ve gone crazy,” Marya Aleksevna said in a breathless voice.

How is this possible? What will we tell him tomorrow? - said the father.

It's not your fault that I disagree.

The scene lasted for two hours. Marya Aleksevna was furious, started screaming twenty times and clenched her fists, but Verochka said: “Don’t get up, or I’ll leave.” They fought and fought, but could not do anything. It ended with Matryona coming in and asking if dinner should be served - the pie was already out of time.

Think about it until evening, Vera, come to your senses, you fool! - said Marya Aleksevna and whispered something to Matryona.

Mama, you want to do something to me, take the key out of the door of my room, or something like that. Don't do anything: it will get worse.

Marya Aleksevna told the cook: “No need.” - “What a beast, Verka! No matter how much he took her by the face, he would beat her all bloody, but now how to touch her? She will mutilate herself. Damn!”

Let's go have lunch. We dined in silence. After dinner, Verochka went to her room.

Pavel Konstantinich lay down, as usual, to sleep. But he did not succeed: he had just begun to doze off when Matryona came in and said that the owner’s man had come; The hostess asks Pavel Konstantinich to come to her now.

Matryona was trembling all over like an aspen leaf; What does it matter to her to tremble?

How can you tell her not to tremble when all this trouble was caused through her? As soon as she called Verochka to her father and mother, she immediately ran to tell the owner’s cook’s wife that “your master has wooed our young lady”; they called the housewife's younger maid and began to reproach her for not behaving in a friendly manner and had not yet told them anything; the younger maid could not understand why they blamed her for her secrecy - she never hid anything; they told her, “I didn’t hear anything myself,” they apologized to her that it was in vain that they slandered her in secrecy, she ran to tell the news to the senior maid, the senior maid said: “that means he did it on the sly from his mother, if I didn’t hear anything, I must know everything that Anna Petrovna knows,” and she went to tell the lady. What a story Matryona has made! “My damn tongue, it ruined me a lot!” - she thought.

After all, Marya Aleksevna will find out through whom it came out. But things went so bad that Marya Aleksevna forgot to find out through whom it came out.

Anna Petrovna gasped, groaned, fainted twice - alone with the head maid; This means she was very upset and sent for her son. The son appeared.

Michelle, is what I'm hearing true? (in a tone of angry suffering.)

What did you hear, maman?

That you proposed to this... this... this... daughter of our manager?

I did it, maman.

Without asking your mother's opinion?

I wanted to ask your consent when I receive it.

I believe that you could be more confident in her consent than in mine.

Maman, it’s customary these days that first they find out about the girl’s consent, then they tell the relatives.

Is this accepted in your opinion? Perhaps, in your opinion, it is also customary for sons of good families to marry God knows whom, and for mothers to agree to this?

She, maman, is not God knows who; when you get to know her, you will approve of my choice.

- "When I recognize her!" - I will never recognize her! "I will approve of your choice!" - I forbid you any thought about this choice! Do you hear, I forbid it!

Maman, this is not accepted nowadays; I'm not a little boy that you need to lead me by the hand. I myself know where I am going.

Oh! - Anna Petrovna closed her eyes.

Mikhail Ivanovich gave in to Marya Aleksevna, Julie, Verochka, but they were women with intelligence and character; but here, in terms of intelligence, the battle was equal, and if in terms of character there was a slight advantage on the mother’s side, then the son had reliable ground under his feet; he was still afraid of his mother out of habit, but they both firmly remembered that in reality, the mistress is not the mistress, but the owner’s mother, no more, that the owner’s son is not the owner’s son, but the owner.

That’s why the hostess hesitated with the decisive word “I forbid” and dragged out the conversation, hoping to confuse and tire her son before it came to a real fight. But the son had already gone so far that it was impossible to return, and he, of necessity, had to hold on.

Maman, I assure you that you could not have a better daughter.

Monster! Mother killer!

Maman, let's talk calmly. You need to get married sooner or later, and a married person needs more expenses than a single person. I could, perhaps, marry someone so that all the income from the house would be needed for my household. And she will be a respectful daughter, and we could live with you as before.

Monster! My killer! Get out of my sight!

Maman, don’t be angry: it’s not my fault.

He marries some trash, and it’s not his fault.

Well, now, maman, I’ll leave myself. I don’t want them to call her those names in front of me.

My killer! - Anna Petrovna fainted, and Michel left, happy that he cheerfully endured the first scene, which is most important.

Seeing that her son was gone, Anna Petrovna stopped fainting. The son is decisively fighting off the hands! In response to “I forbid!” he explains that the house belongs to him! - Anna Petrovna thought, thought, poured out her grief to the senior maid, who in this case completely shared the mistress’s feelings of contempt for the manager’s daughter, consulted with her and sent for the manager.

I have been very pleased with you until now, Pavel Konstantinich: but now intrigues, in which you may not have participated, may force me to quarrel with you.

Your Excellency, I am not guilty of anything here, God knows.

I've known for a long time that Michelle is after your daughter. I didn’t interfere with this, because a young man cannot live without entertainment. I am tolerant of the pranks of young people. But I will not tolerate the humiliation of my family name. How dare your daughter take such views into her head?

Your Excellency, she did not dare to have such views. She is a respectful girl, we raised her to be respectful.

I mean, what does this mean?

She, Your Excellency, will never dare against your will.

Anna Petrovna couldn’t believe her ears. Is this really such prosperity?

You must know my will... I cannot agree to such a strange, one might say, indecent marriage.

We feel it, Your Excellency, and Verochka feels it. She said this: I don’t dare, she says, to anger their Excellency.

How did it happen?

So it was, Your Excellency, that Mikhail Ivanovich expressed his intention to my wife, and my wife told them that I, Mikhail Ivanovich, would not tell you anything until tomorrow morning, and my wife and I intended, Your Excellency, to come to you and report on to everyone, because at this late hour they did not dare to disturb your Excellency.

And when Mikhail Ivanovich left, we told Verochka, and she said: I’m with you, daddy and mummy, I completely agree that we shouldn’t think about this.

So she's a sensible and honest girl?

Why, Your Excellency, a respectful girl!

Well, I’m very glad that we can remain friends with you. I will reward you for this. Now I’m ready to reward. On the main staircase, where the tailor lives, the apartment on the 2nd floor is free, isn't it?

He will be free in three days, Your Excellency.

Take it for yourself. You can spend up to 100 rubles on finishing.

I’ll also give you a raise of 240 rubles. in year.

Let me ask your Excellency for a pen!

Good good. Tatiana! - The head maid came in. - Find my blue velvet coat. I give this to your wife. It costs 150 rubles. (85 RUR), I only wore it 2 times (much more than 2O). I’m giving this to your daughter, Anna Petrovna handed the manager a very small ladies’ watch - I paid 300 rubles for it. (120 rub.). I know how to reward, and I won’t forget in the future. I am tolerant of the pranks of young people.

Having released the manager, Anna Petrovna again called Tatyana.

Ask Mikhail Ivanovich to come to me, or not, it’s better that I go to him myself. “She was afraid that the messenger would tell her son’s footman, and the footman would tell his son the contents of the news communicated by the manager, and the bouquet would fizzle out, and her words wouldn’t hurt her son so much in the nose.”

Mikhail Ivanovich lay there, twirling his mustache not without some satisfaction. -

“Why else did you come here? After all, I don’t have any snuff for fainting,” he thought, getting up when his mother appeared. But he saw contemptuous triumph on her face.

She sat down and said:

Sit down, Mikhail Ivanovich, and we’ll talk,” and she looked at him for a long time with a smile; Finally, she said: “I’m very pleased, Mikhail Ivanovich; Guess what I'm happy with?

I don’t know what to think, maman; you are so strange...

You will see that it is not at all strange; think about it, maybe you can guess it.

Again a long silence. He is lost in bewilderment, she enjoys the triumph,

You can't guess, I'll tell you. It's very simple and natural;

if you had a spark of noble feeling in you, you would guess. Your mistress,” Anna Petrovna maneuvered in the previous conversation, now there was no point in maneuvering: the enemy had been taken away from the means of defeating her, “your mistress,

Don’t object, Mikhail Ivanovich, you yourself have divulged everywhere that she is your mistress - this is a creature of low origin, low upbringing, low behavior - even this despicable creature ...

Maman, I don’t want to listen to such expressions about the girl who will be my wife.

I wouldn’t have used them if I had thought that she would be your wife.

But I started with the purpose of explaining to you that this will not happen and why it will not happen. Let me finish. Then you can freely blame me for those expressions that then remain inappropriate in your opinion, but now let me finish. I want to say that your mistress, this creature without a name, without education, without behavior, without feeling - even she shamed you, even she understood all the indecency of your intentions...

What? What is it, maman? speak up!

You yourself are delaying me. I wanted to say that even she, -

you see, even she! - knew how to understand and appreciate my feelings, even she, having learned from her mother about your proposal, sent her father to tell me that she would not rebel against my will and would not dishonor our family with her besmirched name.

Maman, are you lying?

Fortunately for you and me, no. She says that...

But Mikhail Ivanovich was no longer in the room; he was already putting on his overcoat.

Hold him, Peter, hold him! - Anna Petrovna shouted, Peter opened his mouth from such an emergency order, and Mikhail Ivanovich was already running down the stairs.

Well, so - Marya Aleksevna asked her husband as he entered.

Excellent, mother; She already found out and said: how dare you? but I say: we don’t dare, Your Excellency, and Verochka has already refused.

What? What? Did you drink like that stupidly, you ass?

Marya Aleksevna...

Donkey! scoundrel! killed! stabbed! Here you go! - the husband received a slap in the face. -

Here you go! - another slap. - This is how you should be taught, you fool! “She grabbed him by the hair and started dragging him. The lesson continued for a long time, because Storeshnikov, after long pauses and his mother’s admonitions, ran into the room and found Marya Aleksevna still in the full heat of teaching.

He's an ass and didn't lock the door - what a look strangers find!

I'd be ashamed, you pig! - That’s all Marya Aleksevna could say.

Where is Vera Pavlovna? I need to see Vera Pavlovna, now! Is she really refusing?

The circumstances were so difficult that Marya Aleksevna just waved her hand. The same thing happened to Napoleon after the Battle of Waterloo, when Marshal Grouchy turned out to be stupid, like Pavel Konstantinich, and Lafayette began to rage

(24), like Verochka: Napoleon also fought, fought, performed miracles of art, -

and was left with nothing to do with it, and could only wave his hand and say: I renounce everything, do whatever you want, with yourself and with me.

Vera Pavlovna! Are you refusing me?

Judge for yourself whether I can refuse you!

Vera Pavlovna! I cruelly insulted you, I am guilty, worthy of execution, but I cannot bear your refusal... - and so on, and so on.

Verochka listened to him for several minutes, finally it was time to stop - it was hard.

No, Mikhail Ivanovich, that’s enough; stop it. I can't agree more.

But if so, I ask you for one mercy: you now still feel too vividly how I insulted you... don’t give me an answer now, leave me time to earn your forgiveness! I seem low and mean to you, but look, maybe I will improve, I will use all my strength to improve! Help me, don’t push me away now, give me time, I will obey you in everything! You will see how subdued I am; Perhaps you will see something good in me, give me time.

“I feel sorry for you,” said Verochka: “I see the sincerity of your love.”

(Verochka, this is not love at all, this is a mixture of various nasty things with various rubbish,

Love is not that; not everyone loves a woman who is unpleasant to receive a refusal from her - love is not that at all - but Verochka does not know this yet, and is touched),

You want me not to give you an answer - if you please. But I warn you that delay will lead to nothing: I will never give you another answer than the one I gave today.

I deserve, I deserve another answer, you save me! - He grabbed her hand and began to kiss it.

Marya Aleksevna entered the room and, in a fit of feeling, wanted to bless the dear children without formality, that is, without Pavel Konstantinich, then call him and bless him ceremoniously. Storeshnikov broke half of her joy by explaining to her with kisses that Vera Pavlovna, although she did not agree, did not refuse, but postponed her answer. It’s bad, but still good compared to what it was.

Storeshnikov returned home victorious. Again the house appeared on the scene, and again Anna Petrovna only had to faint.

Marya Aleksevna absolutely did not know what to think about Verochka. The daughter both spoke and seemed to act decisively against her intentions. But it turned out that the daughter conquered all the difficulties that Marya Aleksevna could not cope with. Judging by the progress of things, it turned out: Verochka wants the same thing that she, Marya Aleksevna, wants, only, like a scientist and a subtle thing, she processes her matter in a different manner. But if so, why doesn’t she tell Marya Aleksevna: mother, I want the same thing with you, be calm! Or is she so embittered with her mother that she wants to conduct the very matter in which both should act together without her mother? That she hesitates to answer is understandable for Marya Aleksevna: she wants to completely train the groom, so that he does not dare to die without her, and to force Anna Petrovna’s submission. Obviously, she is more cunning than Marya Aleksevna herself. When Marya Aleksevna thought, her reflections led her to exactly this view. But his eyes and ears constantly testified against him. But what can we do if he is wrong, if his daughter really doesn’t want to marry Storeshnikov? She is such a beast that there is no way to tame her. In all likelihood, the worthless Verka does not want to get married - this is even certain - common sense was too strong in Marya Aleksevna to be seduced by her own cunning thoughts about Vera as a subtle intriguer; but this girl arranges everything in such a way that if she gets out (and the devil knows what’s on her mind, maybe that’s it!), then she will actually be a complete mistress over her husband, and over his mother, and over the house, - what remains? Wait and watch - nothing else is possible.

Now Verka doesn’t want it yet, but she’ll get used to it, jokingly and want it - well, it will be possible to intimidate... only in time! and now we just have to wait for that time to come. Marya Aleksevna waited. But the thought, condemned by her common sense, that Verka was leading the matter towards a wedding was tempting for her. Everything, except Verochka’s words and actions, confirmed this idea: the groom was silk. The groom's mother fought for three weeks, but her son beat her with a house, and she began to resign herself.

She expressed a desire to meet Verochka, but Verochka did not go to her. At the first minute, Marya Aleksevna thought that if she were in Verochka’s place, she would have acted smarter and would have gone, but after thinking about it, she realized that not going would be much smarter. Oh, this is a tricky thing! - and sure enough: two weeks later Anna Petrovna came in on her own, under the pretext of looking at the new decoration of the new apartment, she was cold, sarcasticly kind; Verochka, after two or three of her caustic phrases, went to her room; Until they left, Marya Aleksevna didn’t think that she needed to leave, she thought that she needed to respond with barbs to barbs, but when Verochka left, Marya Aleksevna now realized: yes, it’s best to leave,

Let her son bother her, it’s better! Two weeks later, Anna Petrovna came in again, and no longer made excuses for visiting, she simply said that she had come to visit, and did not say any barbs in front of Verochka.

So time passed. The groom gave gifts to Verochka: they were made through Marya Aleksevna and, of course, remained with her, like Anna Petrovna’s watch, however, not all of them; Marya Aleksevna gave others that were cheaper to Verochka under the name of things that remained unredeemed as a pledge: it was necessary for the groom to see at least some of his things on the bride. He saw and became convinced that Verochka had decided to agree - otherwise she would not have accepted his gifts;

why is she hesitating? he himself understood, and Marya Aleksevna pointed out why: she was waiting until Anna Petrovna was completely gone... And with redoubled zeal he raced his mother on the line, an activity that gave him a lot of pleasure.

Thus, they left Verochka alone and looked into her eyes. This dog-like obsequiousness was disgusting to her; she tried to be with her mother as little as possible. Her mother stopped daring to enter her room, and when Verochka sat there, that is, almost all day long, she was not disturbed. She sometimes allowed Mikhail Ivanovich to come into her room. He was obedient to her, like a child: she told him to read, - he read diligently, as if he was preparing for an exam; I got little sense out of reading, but I still got some sense; she tried to help him with conversations - conversations were clearer to him than books, and he made some progress, slow, very small, but still made. He had already begun to treat his mother somewhat more decently than before, and began to prefer simply keeping in line to chasing her on the line.

Three or four months passed like this. There was a truce, there was calm, but every day a thunderstorm could break out, and Verochka’s heart sank with heavy anticipation - if not today, then tomorrow either Mikhail Ivanovich or Marya Aleksevna would come demanding consent - after all, they would not endure it forever. If I wanted to create spectacular clashes, I would have given this situation a bitter ending: but it did not happen in reality; if I wanted to entice with the unknown, I would not say now that nothing of the kind happened; but I write without tricks, and therefore I say in advance: there will be no crashing collision, the situation will resolve itself without storms, without thunder and lightning.

CHAPTER TWO

First love and legal marriage

It is known how similar situations ended in former times: an excellent girl in a nasty family; the forcibly imposed groom is a vulgar man whom she does not like, who in himself was a crappy person, and would become the further, the more crappy, but, forcibly staying close to her, he obeys her and little by little becomes like a normal person, not good, but also not bad. The girl began by saying that she would not marry him;

but gradually she got used to having him under her command and, convinced that of two evils - such a husband and such a family as her own, the husband was the lesser evil, she made her admirer happy; At first it was disgusting for her when she learned what it meant to make someone happy without love; was obedient: if she endures it, she will fall in love, and she turned into an ordinary good lady, that is, a woman who is good in herself, but has come to terms with vulgarity and, living on earth, only smokes heaven. This happened before with excellent girls, and this happened before with excellent young men, who all turned into good people, living on earth only to smoke heaven. This happened before, because there were too few decent people: apparently, such were the harvests in former times that “ear after ear grew, not even a voice could be heard.” But you can’t live a century either lonely or lonely without wasting away - so they wasted away or reconciled with vulgarity.

But now other cases have become more and more frequent: decent people began to meet each other. And how can this not happen more and more often, when the number of decent people grows with each new year? And in the future this will be the most common case, and in the future there will be no other cases, because all people will be decent people. Then it will be very good.

Verochka is fine now. The reason I am telling (with her consent) her life is that, as far as I know, she is one of the first women whose life was settled well. The first cases are of historical interest. The first swallow is of great interest to northern residents.

The incident from which her life began to settle well was of this kind.

It became necessary to prepare Verochka’s little brother for the gymnasium. My father began asking his colleagues for a cheap teacher. One of his colleagues recommended him a medical student, Lopukhov.

Lopukhov was at his new lesson five or six times before Verochka and he saw each other. He sat with Fedya at one end of the apartment, she at the other end, in her room. But it was time for exams at the academy; he moved his lessons from morning to evening, because he needs to study in the morning, and when he came in the evening, he found the whole family having tea.

Familiar faces were sitting on the sofa: the father, the student’s mother, next to the mother, on a chair, the student, and a little further away an unfamiliar face - a tall, slender girl, rather dark, with black hair - “thick, good hair”, with black eyes - “good eyes” , even very good ones", with a southern type of face -

"as if from Little Russia; perhaps, more likely even a Caucasian type; nothing, a very beautiful face, only very cold, this is not in the south; good health: there would be fewer of us doctors if there were such people! Yes, a healthy complexion and "Wide chest - he won't get acquainted with a stethoscope. When he goes into the world, he will produce an effect. But by the way, I'm not interested."

And she looked at the teacher who entered. The student was no longer a young man, a man of average height or slightly taller than average, with dark brown hair, regular, even beautiful facial features, with a proud and courageous look - “not stupid and probably kind, just too serious.”

She didn’t add in her thoughts: “but I’m not interested,” because there was no question whether she would be interested in him. Didn’t Fedya tell her so much that it became boring to listen to? - “He, sister, is kind, only taciturn. And I, sister, told him that you are a beauty, and he, sister, said: “Well, so what?”, and I, sister, said: “Yes, after all.” Everyone loves beauties, and he said: “Everyone loves stupid people,” and I said: “Don’t you love them?” and he said: “I don’t have time.” And I said to him, sister: “So, don’t you want to meet Verochka?” and he said: “I have a lot of acquaintances even without her.” - Fedya blabbed all this soon after the first lesson and then he babbled on in the same way, with various such additions: and I told him, sister, today that it’s against you everyone looks at you when you are somewhere, and he, sister, said: “well, that’s great”; and I said to him: don’t you want to look at her?

and he said: “I’ll see you again.” - Or, then: and I, sister, told him how small your hands are, and he, sister, said: “You want to chat, so isn’t there something else, more interesting?”

And the teacher learned from Fedya everything he needed to know about his sister; he stopped Fedya from chatting about family matters, but how can you stop a nine-year-old child from telling you everything if you don’t intimidate him? on the fifth word you manage to interrupt him, but it’s too late - after all, children start without a fit, straight from the essence of the matter; and interspersed with other explanations of all sorts of other family affairs, the teacher heard the following beginnings of speeches: “But my sister has a rich groom! And mummy says: the groom is stupid!” “And my mother looks after her groom like a groom!” “And mamma says: my sister cleverly caught the groom!” “And mamma says: I’m cunning, but Verochka is cunning than me!” “And mamma says: We’ll kick the groom’s mother out of the house,” and so on.

It is natural that, with such information about each other, the young people had little desire to get acquainted. However, we only know for now that it was natural on Verochka’s part: she was not at that stage of development to try to “defeat the savages” and “make this bear tame” - and she had no time for that: she was glad, that she is left alone; She was a broken, exhausted person, who was somehow lucky enough to lie down so that her broken arm subsided, and the pain in her side was not audible, and who was afraid to move, lest the previous aching in all joints would resume. Why should she indulge in new acquaintances, especially with young people?

Yes, Verochka so; Well, what about him? He is a savage, judging by Fedya’s words, and his head is filled with books and anatomical preparations, which constitute the sweetest pleasure, the sweetest food of the soul for a good medical student. Or did Fedya lie to him?

No, Fedya didn’t lie about him; Lopukhov, for sure, was the kind of student whose head was full of books - which, we will see from Marya Aleksevna’s bibliographic studies - and anatomical preparations: without filling your head with preparations, you cannot be a professor, and Lopukhov was counting on this.

But since we see that from the information reported to Fedey about Verochka, Lopukhov did not recognize her very well, therefore, the information that was reported to Fedey about the teacher must be supplemented in order to get to know Lopukhov well.

In terms of his financial affairs, Lopukhov belonged to that very small minority of medical students, that is, students who do not live on government pay, who do not go hungry or suffer from cold. How and with what the vast majority of them live is, of course, known to God, but incomprehensible to people.

But our story does not want to deal with people in need of food; therefore, he will only mention in two or three words about the time when Lopukhov was in such an indecent state.

And he didn’t stay there for long—three years, even less. Before the medical academy, he ate in abundance. His father, a Ryazan tradesman, lived quite well according to his tradesman rank, that is, his family had cabbage soup with meat more than once on Sundays, and even drank tea every day. He somehow managed to support his son in the gymnasium; however, from the age of 15, the son himself made it easier with some lessons. The father's resources were unsatisfactory to support his son in St. Petersburg; however, in the first two years, Lopukhov received 35 rubles a year from home, and he also got almost the same amount by writing papers for free hire in one of the quarters of the Vyborg part - only at this time he needed it. And even then it was his own fault: he was supposed to be accepted into state pay, but he started some kind of quarrel and had to retire to pasture. When he was in his third year, his affairs began to improve: the assistant quartermaster offered him lessons, then other lessons began to appear, and now for two years he stopped needing and for more than a year he lived in the same apartment, but not in one, but in two different rooms , - that means it’s not poor, - with another equally lucky man, Kirsanov. They were the greatest of friends. Both were early accustomed to making their way with their chests, without any support; and in general, there were many similarities between them, so that if they were met only separately, then both of them would seem to be people of the same character. And when you saw them together, you noticed that although both of them were very respectable and very open people, Lopukhov was somewhat more restrained, his comrade somewhat more expansive. We now see only Lopukhov, Kirsanov will appear much later, and apart from Kirsanov we can only notice about Lopukhov what would need to be repeated about Kirsanov. For example, Lopukhov was now most occupied with how to arrange his life after completing the course, to which he had only a few months left, like Kirsanov, and both of them had the same plan for the future.

Lopukhov positively knew that he would be a resident (doctor) in one of the St. Petersburg military hospitals - this is considered great happiness - and would soon receive a chair at the Academy. He didn't want to practice. This is a curious trait; In the last ten years, a determination has begun to emerge among some of the best medical students not to engage, at the end of the course, in practice, which alone provides the physician with the means for a sufficient life, and at the first opportunity to quit medicine for one of its auxiliary sciences - for physiology, chemistry , something like that. But each of these people knows that, having taken up practice, he would have had a great reputation at 30 years old, security for life at 35, and wealth at 45. But they reason differently: you see, medicine is now in such an infancy state that it is not yet necessary to treat, but only to prepare materials for future doctors to be able to treat. And here they are, for the benefit of their beloved science - they are terrible hunters to scold medicine, they only devote all their strength to its benefits - they renounce wealth, even contentment, and sit in hospitals, making, you see, observations that are interesting for science, cutting frogs, dissect hundreds of corpses every year and, at the first opportunity, acquire chemical laboratories. With what degree of rigor they fulfill this high determination depends, of course, on how their home life is arranged: if it is not necessary for those close to them, they never begin to engage in practice, that is, they leave themselves almost in poverty; but if family necessity forces them, then they start a practice as much as is necessary for the family, that is, on a very small scale, and they treat only people who are really sick and who can really be treated given the current pitiful state of science, that is, patients who are completely unprofitable. Lopukhov and Kirsanov belonged to these people. They were supposed to finish the course that year and announced that they would take (or, as they say in the Academy: pass) the exam directly for the degree of Doctor of Medicine;

Now they both worked for doctoral dissertations and destroyed enormous numbers of frogs; both of them chose the nervous system as their specialty and, in fact, worked together; but for the dissertation form, the work was divided: one entered into the materials for his dissertation the facts noticed by both on one issue, the other on another.

However, it’s time to finally talk about Lopukhov alone. There was a time when he was quite a carouser; this was when he sat without tea, sometimes without boots. Such a time is very favorable for revelry, not only in terms of readiness, but also in terms of opportunity: drinking is cheaper than eating and dressing. But the revelry was a consequence of melancholy from unbearable poverty, nothing more. Now for a long time there has not been a person who would lead a more austere life - and not in relation to wine alone. In the old days, Lopukhov had quite a few love affairs.

Once, for example, a story happened that he fell in love with a visiting dancer. How can we be here? He thought, thought yes, and went to her apartment. - “What do you want?” - “Sent from Count So-and-So with a letter.” -

The student's uniform was easily mistaken by the servant for a clerk's uniform or some special orderly's uniform. - “Give me a letter. Will you wait for an answer?” -

"The Count ordered us to wait." The servant returned in surprise. - “I told you to call me.” - “So here he is, here he is! He always screams at me so that even from the restroom I can distinguish his voice. How many times have you been taken to the police for rampages in my honor?” - "Twice". - “Not enough. Well, why are you here?” - "To see you". -

I want to have breakfast. You see the device on the table. Sit down too." - They brought another device. She laughed at him, he laughed at himself. He is young, good-looking, not stupid - and original - why not fool around with him? She fooled around with him for two weeks, then she said: “ get out!" - "Yes, I really wanted to, but it was awkward!" - "So, we're parting as friends?" - We hugged again, and it was great. But that was a long time ago, three years ago, and now, two years ago , he gave up all sorts of pranks.

Apart from his comrades and two or three professors, who foresaw a good scientist in him, he saw only the families to whom he gave lessons. But he only saw these families: he was afraid of familiarity like fire and behaved very dryly, coldly with all the faces in them, except for his little students and students.

So, Lopukhov entered the room, saw a group sitting at the tea table, including Verochka; Well, of course, the community saw, including Verochka, that the teacher had entered the room.

Please sit down,” said Marya Aleksevna: “Matryona, give me another glass.”

If this is for me, then thank you: I will not drink.

Matryona, you don't need a glass. (Well-mannered young man!) Why won't you? We would eat it.

He was looking at Marya Aleksevna, but then, as if on purpose, he looked at Verochka - or maybe, in fact, on purpose? Perhaps he noticed that she shrugged slightly? “But he saw that I was blushing.”

Thank you; I only drink tea at home.

“However, he is not such a savage at all, he came in and bowed easily, freely,” he remarks to himself on one side of the table. “However, if she is a spoiled girl, then at least she is ashamed of her mother’s vulgarities,” remarks on the other side of the table.

But Fedya soon finished his tea and went to study. Thus, the most important result of the evening was that Marya Aleksevna formed a favorable opinion of the teacher, seeing that her sugar bowl would probably not suffer much damage from the transfer of lessons from morning to evening.

Two days later, the teacher again found the family having tea and again refused tea and thus finally calmed Marya Aleksevna. But this time he saw another new face at the table - the officer, before whom Marya Aleksevna fawned.

"Ah, groom!"

And the groom, in accordance with his uniform and home, considered it necessary not only to see the teacher, but, having seen him, to measure him from head to toe with a careless, slow glance, customary in good society. But as soon as he began to take his measurements, he felt that the teacher was not just taking his measurements, but even worse: looking him straight in the eyes, and so diligently that, instead of continuing the measurements, the groom said:

And your difficult part, Monsieur Lopukhov, is, I say, the doctoral part.

Yes, it's difficult. - And everything continues to look straight into the eyes.

The groom felt that with his left hand, for some unknown reason, he was fingering the second and third buttons from the top of his vice uniform, well, if it came to buttons, then there was no other salvation but to quickly finish the glass in order to ask Marya Aleksevna for another.

If I'm not mistaken, you're wearing the uniform of such and such a regiment?

Yes, I serve in such and such a regiment,” answers Mikhail Ivanovich.

How long have you been serving?

Nine years.

Did you enlist directly in this regiment?

Do you have a company or not yet?

No, I haven't yet. (Yes, he interrogates me, as if I had come to him as an orderly.)

Do you hope to receive it soon?

Not yet.

Hm. - The teacher considered it sufficient and stopped the interrogation, once again looking intently into the eyes of the imaginary orderly.

“However - however,” thinks Verochka, “what is “however”? -

Finally I found out what this “however” is - “however, he behaves the way Serge, who then came with good Julie, would have behaved. What kind of savage is he? But why does he talk so strangely about girls, about what Stupid people love beautiful women and - and - what is “and” - found what “and” is - and why didn’t he want to hear anything about me, he said that it wasn’t interesting?

Verochka, you should play something on the piano, Mikhail Ivanovich and I would listen! - says Marya Aleksevna when Verochka puts the second cup on the table.

Perhaps.

And if you sang something, Vera Pavlovna,” adds Mikhail Ivanovich in an ingratiating tone.

Perhaps.

However, this “perhaps” sounds similar to “I’m ready, just to get rid of it,” the teacher thinks. And he’s been sitting here for about five minutes now, and although he hasn’t looked at her, he knows that she’s never looked at her groom, except when she answered him now. And then she looked at him exactly the way she looked at her mother and father - coldly and not at all kindly. There is something wrong here, as Fedya said. However, most likely, she really is a proud, cold girl who wants to enter the big world in order to dominate and shine; she is unpleasant that a better groom was not found for this; but despising the groom, she accepts his hand, because there is no other hand that would lead her to where she wants to go. However, this is somewhat interesting.

Fedya, finish your drink quickly,” the mother remarked.

Don’t rush him, Marya Aleksevna, I want to listen if Vera Pavlovna allows.

Verochka took the first notes she came across, without even looking at what they were, opened the notebook again wherever she came across, and began to play mechanically, -

it doesn’t matter what you play, just to get rid of it as quickly as possible. But the play came across with meaning, something from some decent opera, and soon the girl’s performance became animated. Having finished, she wanted to get up.

But you promised to sing, Vera Pavlovna: if I had dared, I would have asked you to sing from Rigoletto (25) (that winter “La donna e mobile” (The woman is fickle (Italian) - Ed.) was a fashionable aria).

If you please,” Verochka sang “La donna e mobile,” got up and went to her room.

"No, she's not a cold girl without a soul. That's interesting."

Isn't it good? - Mikhail Ivanovich said to the teacher in a simple voice and without taking measurements; After all, you don’t need to be on bad terms with people who interrogate orderlies - why not talk to the teacher without complaints, so that he doesn’t get angry?

Yes OK.

Are you an expert in music?

So-so.

And are you a musician yourself?

Some.

Marya Aleksevna, who was listening to the conversation, flashed a happy thought.

What do you play, Dmitry Sergeich? - she asked.

On the piano.

May I ask you to please us?

I am glad.

He played some kind of play. He didn’t play God knows how, but he played so-so, perhaps, and not badly.

When he was finishing the lesson, Marya Aleksevna came up to him and said that tomorrow they were having a little evening - her daughter’s birthday, and that she asked him to come.

It is clear that there is a shortage of gentlemen, as is the custom at all such evenings; but it’s okay, he’ll take a closer look at this girl - there’s something interesting in her or with her. - “Very grateful, I will.” - But the teacher was mistaken: Marya Aleksevna had a goal much more important for her than for the dancing girls.

Reader, you, of course, know in advance that at this evening there will be an explanation that Verochka and Lopukhov will fall in love with each other? - of course, so.

Marya Aleksevna wanted to have a big party on Verochka’s birthday, but Verochka begged not to invite any guests; one wanted to arrange an exhibition of the groom, the other found the exhibition difficult. We agreed on making the smallest evening possible, inviting only a few close friends.

They invited colleagues (of course, with higher ranks and higher positions) Pavel Konstantinich, two friends of Marya Aleksevna, three girls who were shorter than the others with Verochka.

Looking around the assembled guests, Lopukhov saw that there was no shortage of gentlemen: with each of the girls there was a young man, a candidate for grooms or even a groom. Therefore, Lopukhov was not invited as a gentleman;

why? After thinking, he remembered that the invitation was preceded by a test of his piano playing. Therefore, he was called to cut costs so as not to hire a pianist. “Okay,” he thought: “I’m sorry, Marya Aleksevna,” and went up to Pavel Konstantinich.

Well, Pavel Konstantinich, it’s time to start whist: you see, the old people are bored?

Which one are you playing?

For every reason.

A game was immediately formed, and Lopukhov sat down to play. The Academy on the Vyborg Side is a classic institution when it comes to maps. It is not uncommon there for people to play for a day and a half in a row in some room (that is, in the room of government students). It must be admitted that the amounts in circulation on the card tables there are much less than in the English club, but the level of skill of the players is higher. He played heavily at his own - that is, without money -

time and Lopukhov.

Mesdames, what can I do? - play alternately, that's it; but there are only seven of us left; there will be a shortage of a gentleman or a lady for the quadrille.

The first rubber (26) ended when one of the girls, the most lively, flew up to Lopukhov.

Monsieur Lopukhov, you must dance.

“On one condition,” he said, standing up and bowing.

I ask you for the first quadrille.

Oh, my God, I’m committed to the first one; the second one, if you please.

Lopukhov again made a deep bow. Two of the gentlemen took turns playing. For the third quadrille, Lopukhov asked Verochka - the first she danced with Mikhail Ivanovich, the second he danced with a lively girl.

Lopukhov observed Verochka and was finally convinced of the fallacy of his previous concept of her as a soulless girl who coldly marries a man whom he despises out of convenience: he saw in front of him an ordinary young girl who dances with all her heart and laughs; Yes, to Verochka’s shame, it must be said that she was an ordinary girl who loved to dance. She insisted that there should be no evening at all, but the evening was arranged, small, without an exhibition, therefore, not burdensome for her, and she, which she never expected, forgot her grief: in these years you don’t want to grieve so much, you don’t want to run around, laugh and you want to have fun so much that the slightest opportunity to forget makes you forget your grief for a while. Lopukhov was now disposed in her favor, but he still did not understand much.

He was interested in the strangeness of Verochka's position.

Monsieur Lopukhov, I never expected to see you dancing,” she began.

Why? Is it so difficult to dance?

Actually, of course not; for you - of course, yes.

Why for me?

Because I know your secret, yours and Fedina’s: you neglect women.

Fedya did not quite correctly understand my secret: I do not disdain women, but I avoid them - and do you know why? I have a very jealous fiancée, who, in order to make me avoid them, told me their secret.

Do you have a fiancee (27)?

What a surprise! student - and already engaged! She's pretty, are you in love with her?

Yes, she is beautiful and I love her very much.

Is she brunette or blonde?

I can't say that. It's a secret.

Well, God bless her when it’s a secret. But what secret of women did she reveal to you to make you avoid their company?

She noticed that I didn’t like to be in a bad mood, and whispered to me their secret that I couldn’t see a woman without getting into a bad mood - and that’s why I avoid women.

You can't see a woman without getting into a bad mood? However, you are not a master at giving compliments.

How can I say otherwise? To feel sorry means to be in a bad mood.

Are we that pathetic?

Aren't you a woman? I only have to tell you your most sincere desire - and you will agree with me. This is the common desire of all women.

Tell me, tell me.

Here it is: “Oh, how I wish I were a man!” I have never met a woman in whom this intimate secret could not be found. And for the most part there is no need to even bother looking for her - she speaks out directly, even without any challenge, as soon as a woman is upset about something - you immediately hear something like this: “We are poor creatures, women!” or: “a man is not at all like a woman,” or even so, in direct words: “Oh, why am I not a man!”

Verochka smiled: it’s true, you can hear this from any woman.

You see how pitiful women are, that if the heartfelt desire of each of them were fulfilled, then there would not be a single woman left in the world.

Yes, it seems so,” said Verochka.

It’s the same as there wouldn’t be a single poor person left in the world if the heartfelt desire of every poor person were fulfilled. You see how miserable women are! As many are pitiful as the poor. Who likes to see the poor? It’s just as unpleasant for me to see women since I learned their secret. And she was revealed to me by my jealous bride on the very day of the betrothal. Until then, I really loved being in the company of women; after - as it was removed by hand.

The bride cured.

Your bride is a kind and smart girl; Yes, we women are pitiful creatures, poor us! - Verochka said: - just who is your bride? you speak so mysteriously.

This is my secret, which Fedya will not tell you. I completely share the desire of the poor that they should not exist, and someday this desire will come true: after all, sooner or later we will be able to arrange life in such a way that there will be no poor (28);

Will not be? - Verochka interrupted: - I myself thought that they wouldn’t be: but how they wouldn’t be, I couldn’t figure it out - tell me, how?

I alone cannot say this; Only my fiancée can tell this; I’m here alone, without her, I can only say: she takes care of this, and she is very strong, she is stronger than anyone in the world. But we are not talking about her, but about women. I completely agree with the desire of the poor that they should not exist in the world, because that is what my bride will do. But I do not agree with women’s desire that there should be no women in the world, because this desire cannot be fulfilled: I do not agree with what cannot be. But I have something else

Desire: I would like women to become friends with my bride - she cares about them too, as she cares about many things, about everything. If they became friends with her, I would have no reason to feel sorry for them, and their desire would disappear:

“Oh, why wasn’t I born a man!” When meeting her, women would be no worse off than men.

Monsieur Lopukhov! one more square dance! certainly!

I commend you for this! - He shook her hand, so calmly and seriously, as if he were her friend or she was his comrade. -Which one?

The last one.

Marya Aleksevna dashed past them several times during this quadrille.

What did Marya Aleksevna think about such a conversation if she overheard it?

We, who heard it all, from beginning to end, will all say that such a conversation during a quadrille is very strange.

The last quadrille has arrived.

We all talked about me,” Lopukhov began: “but it’s very unkind of me that I kept talking about myself.” Now I want to be kind enough to talk about you! Vera Pavlovna. You know, I had a much worse opinion of you than you did of me. And now... well, that's after. But still, I don’t know how to answer one thing for myself. Answer me. Is your wedding coming soon?

Never.

That's what I thought - for the last three hours, since I came out here from the card table. But why is he considered a groom?

Why is he considered a groom? - For what! - I can’t tell you one thing, it’s hard for me. But I can say another thing: I feel sorry for him. He loves me so much. You will say: I need to tell him directly what I think about our wedding - I did; he replies: don’t talk, it’s killing me, keep quiet.

This is the second reason, and the first, which you cannot tell me, I can tell you: your position in the family is terrible.

Now it's bearable. Now no one torments me - they wait and leave me, or almost leave me, alone.

But this cannot go on like this for much time. They will start pestering you. What then?

Nothing. I thought about it and decided. I won't stay here then. I can be an actress. What an enviable life this is! Independence! Independence!

And applause.

Yes, and it's nice. But the main thing is independence! Do what I want -

live the way I want, without asking anyone, without demanding anything from anyone, without needing anyone! This is how I want to live!

That's right, that's good! Now I have a request for you: I will find out how to do this, who to contact, yes?

“Thank you,” Verochka shook his hand. - Do it quickly: I really want to get out of this disgusting, intolerable, humiliating situation as soon as possible! I say: “I’m calm, I’m bearable” - is this really so?

Don't I see what is being done in my name? Don't I know how everyone here thinks about me? An intriguer, cunning, wants to be rich, wants to enter secular society, to shine, will keep her husband under her shoe, twirl him, deceive him - don’t I know that everyone thinks so about me? I don’t want to live like this, I don’t want to! - Suddenly she became thoughtful. “Don’t laugh at what I say: I feel sorry for him, he loves me so much!”

Does he love you? So does he look at you like I do, or not? Is that his look?

You look straight, simple. No, your look doesn't offend me.

You see, Vera Pavlovna, this is because... But it doesn’t matter. And he looks like that?

Verochka blushed and was silent.

That means he doesn't love you. This is not love, Vera Pavlovna.

But... - Verochka didn’t finish and stopped.

You wanted to say: but what is this if not love? Let it be all the same. But you yourself will say that this is not love. Who do you love the most? -

I’m not talking about this love, but from relatives, from friends?

No one in particular, it seems. None of them are strong. But no, recently I met a very strange woman. She spoke very badly to me about herself, forbade me to continue acquaintance with her - we saw each other on a very special occasion - she said that when I was in extremes, but such that all that remained was to die, then I would turn to her, but otherwise -

no way. I loved her very much. .

Do you want her to do something for you that is unpleasant or harmful to her?

Verochka smiled.

How is this possible?

But no, imagine that you really, really needed her to do something for you, and she would tell you: “if I do this, it will torment me,” would you repeat your demand, would you would you insist?

I would rather die.

Now, you yourself say that this is love. Only this love is just a feeling, not a passion. What is love-passion? What is the difference between passion and simple feeling? By force. It means that if, with a simple feeling, weak, too weak in the face of passion, love puts you in such an attitude towards a person that you say: “it is better to die than to be the cause of torment for him”; if a simple feeling says so, what will a passion that is a thousand times stronger say? She will say: “I would rather die than - not that I would demand, not that I would ask, but rather than allow this person to do anything for me other than what was pleasing to him; I would die rather than allow, so that for me he would force himself to do something, to restrain himself in something.” This is the kind of passion that says so, this is love. And if passion is not like that, then it is passion, but not love at all. I'm leaving here now. I said everything, Vera Pavlovna.

Verochka shook his hand.

Goodbye. Why don't you congratulate me? After all, today is my birthday.

Lopukhov looked at her.

May be! If you're right, good for me.

“How is it so soon, how is it so unexpected,” thinks Verochka, alone in her room, at the end of the evening: “for the first time we talked and became so close! In half an hour we didn’t know each other at all and an hour later we saw that we had become so close !how strange!"

No, this is not strange at all, Verochka. These people, like Lopukhov, have magic words that attract every sad, offended creature to them.

It is their bride who tells them these words. But what’s really strange, Verochka, just not for you and me, is that you’re so calm. After all, they think that love is an anxious feeling. And you will fall asleep as quietly as a child, and no dreams will confuse or worry you, except for the dreams of funny children’s games, forfeits, burners, or maybe dancing, only also cheerful, carefree. It’s strange to others, but you don’t know that it’s strange, but I know that it’s not strange. Anxiety in love is not love itself - anxiety in it is that something is not as it should be, but it itself is cheerful and carefree.

“How strange this is,” Verochka thinks: “after all, I changed my mind about all this, felt that he was talking about the poor, and about women, and about how to love - where did I get this from? Or was it in books, which I read? No, it’s not like that: it’s all there either with doubts, or with such reservations, and it’s all like something extraordinary, incredible. Like dreams that are good, but just won’t come true! But it seemed to me that it is simple, the simplest of all, that it is the most ordinary thing, without which one cannot be, that it is true, everything will be so, that it is most true! But I thought that these were the best books. After all, George Sand is so kind, well-behaved, - but with her all these are just dreams! Or ours - no, ours don’t have any of this at all.

Or Dickens (29) - he has it, but he doesn’t seem to hope for it; He only wishes because he is kind, but he himself knows that this cannot be. Why don’t they know that it is impossible without this, that it really needs to be done this way and that it will certainly be done so that no one will be poor or unhappy at all. Isn't that what they say? No, they are only sorry, but they think that in fact it will remain as it is now - it will be a little better, but everything will be the same. But they don’t say what I thought. If they said this, I would know that smart and kind people think so; and yet it seemed to me that it was only me who thought so, because I was a stupid girl, that except for me, the stupid one, no one thought so, no one really expected this. But he says that his bride explained to everyone who loves her that this is exactly how it would be, as it seemed to me, and she explained it so clearly that they all began to care that it would be like this as soon as possible. How smart his bride is! But who is she? I will find out, I will definitely find out. Yes, it will be good when there are no poor people, no one will force anyone, everyone will be cheerful, kind, happy..."

And with that Verochka fell asleep, and slept soundly, and did not see anything in her dreams.

No, Verochka, it’s not strange that you changed your mind and took all this to heart, you, a simple girl who had never even heard the names of those people who began to teach this and proved that it had to be so, that it would certainly be so, that “This cannot but be; it is not strange that you understood and took to heart these thoughts, which your books could not clearly present to you: your books were written by people who learned these thoughts when they were still thoughts; these thoughts seemed amazing, amazing, - and that’s all. Now, Verochka, these thoughts are already clearly visible in life, and other books have been written, by other people who find that these thoughts are good, but there is nothing surprising in them, and now, Verochka, these thoughts rush through air, like the aroma in the fields when the time of flowers comes; they penetrate everywhere, you heard them even from your drunken mother, who told you that you need to live and why you need to live by deceit and robbery; she wanted to speak against your thoughts, but she herself developed yours same thoughts; you heard them from an insolent, spoiled Frenchwoman, who drags her lover around like a maid, makes of him whatever she wants, and yet, as soon as she comes to her senses, she finds that she has no will of her own, must please, to force herself that this is very difficult - it seems to her that she can’t live with her Sergei, and kind, and delicate, and soft - but she still says: “and even for me, such a bad person, such a relationship is bad.” . Now, Verochka, it’s not difficult to get thoughts like yours. But others don’t take them to heart, but you accepted them - that’s good, but it’s also not strange: why is it strange that you want to be a free and happy person! After all, this desire is not God knows what puzzling discovery, not God knows what feat of heroism.

But what’s strange, Verochka, is that there are the same people who don’t have this desire, who have completely different desires, and to them, perhaps, it will seem strange with what thoughts you, my friend, fall asleep on the first evening of your love, that from Thoughts about yourself, about your sweetheart, about your love, you turned to thoughts that all people need to be happy, and that you need to help this come sooner.

But you don’t know that this is strange, but I know that this is not strange, that this is one and natural, one and human; just humanly; - “I feel joy and happiness” - means “I want all people to become joyful and happy” - humanly speaking, Verochka, these two thoughts are one. You are a good girl: you are not a stupid girl; but excuse me, I don’t find anything surprising in you; maybe half of the girls I knew and know, and maybe more than half - I didn’t count, and there are many of them, what to count - no worse than you, and some are better, forgive me.

It seems to Lopukhov that you are an amazing girl, that’s true; but it’s not surprising that he thinks so, because he fell in love with you! And there is nothing surprising here that he fell in love: you can be loved: and if he fell in love, it should seem so to him.

Nikolai Gavrilovich Chernyshevsky - What to do? - 01, read the text

See also Chernyshevsky Nikolai Gavrilovich - Prose (stories, poems, novels...):

What to do? - 02
VI Marya Aleksevna sneaked past her daughter and teacher during their first class...

What to do? - 03
XXI The wedding was not very complex, although not quite ordinary...

N. Chernyshevsky

What to do?

Revolutionary novel

Extraordinary books very often have an extraordinary destiny.

The poor official, who on February 8, 1863 picked up a package on Liteiny Prospekt in St. Petersburg, which contained the beginning of some manuscript with the strange title “What is to be done?”, did not even remotely imagine what kind of find, by chance, fell into his hands. Expecting a large reward promised by Sovremennik magazine to anyone who finds and delivers the manuscript to the editor, he, of course, could not imagine what the true value of this ream of covered paper was.

The manuscript selected by the official was extraordinary, and its extraordinary fate had already begun: this work somehow miraculously escaped the censorship, although in no way should it have escaped it; immediately after publication, the book was strictly prohibited as a work most dangerous to the foundations of the state; but, despite this, it began to spread in lists, to be read avidly, to teach people to fight for a new, wonderful life, to educate revolutionaries, inspiring them to perform feats in the name of the people. The book was destined to cause such great fermentation in minds that no Russian book had produced for a long time; and a few years later, having crossed the borders of Russia, she began to win the minds and hearts of many other countries.

This manuscript was born not in a cozy office, not in a spacious hall of a public library, but in the solitary confinement of the Alekseevsky ravelin of the Peter and Paul Fortress, and its author was a political prisoner who did not interrupt work on the book even during a nine-day hunger strike of protest - such was the civic and human need , dictating to the “state criminal” Nikolai Chernyshevsky the lines of the novel about “new people”.

And it was difficult to suspect anything seditious after briefly reading the manuscript, the first chapter of which was enticingly called “The Fool” and, as happens in the beginnings of real adventure novels, told about a mysterious suicide on the Liteiny Bridge, and the second described a family drama...

In all likelihood, this intriguing technique played the role of the first step in the consistent and inventive tactics of disguise and “averting eyes” that the author carried out throughout the entire novel, knowing how difficult it would be for his book to get through to the reader through the double cordon of the investigative commission and the tsarist censorship . Chernyshevsky’s psychological move was accurate. The “much-wise” representatives of the authorities who sat on the investigative commission in the Chernyshevsky case were frightened by the growth of the revolutionary movement of the 60s and, seeing their prisoner as the main troublemaker, they feared him like fire. And maybe they were expecting “fire” from him. And after reading two chapters of a strange work, either of a “family” or adventurous nature, they perceived everything else in the appropriate tone.

Such an unconventional plot, not entirely customary for Russian prose (like many other features of the novel) was dictated not only by censorship considerations, but also by the desire to appeal to the widest possible readership and, having intrigued by the entertaining plot, present important and serious problems. And, as always happens with outstanding works, it turned out that even this kind of “trick” acquires a special artistic meaning, participating in the creation of the unique specificity of this particular work. And now it is not only impossible, but also unwilling to present the novel “What is to be done?” without this emphatically entertaining plot, without the somewhat melodramatic second chapter of the prologue, without its third chapter, boldly called “Preface” and beginning with the words: “The content of the story is love, the main character is a woman, this is good, even if the story itself was bad... “Without this “Preface”, full of ironic pathos, and therefore without the entire prologue, the bright, bilious and intelligent image of the “insightful reader”, personifying the inertia and meaninglessness of old Russian life, would be incomplete and brilliant.

When you re-read the novel “What is to be done?”, then, recognizing in hindsight the utopianism, perhaps even the naivety of some of Chernyshevsky’s practical conclusions and recommendations, you still cannot help but see how a majestic building is growing before your eyes, striking the imagination. Even if not all its details are scrupulously finished, even if it does not caress the eye with the classical smoothness of lines, it is harmonious and fully fulfills the high mission for which it is intended - it elevates the spirit and awakens pride in Man.

"What to do?" belongs to those works in which a characteristic feature of Russian literature is visible - its high social pathos, its desire to selflessly and consciously serve the people, progress, and the cause of improving the lives of people on earth. Here we have that rare case when a work of art represents the pinnacle of scientific and social thought of its country and its time. This novel was literally a weapon in the hands of the author - a revolutionary, scientist, writer. He was born in the heat of battle, and was called to serve in the fight.

The book arose during the years of the most tense situation in Russia. The defeat in the Crimean War stimulated a deep crisis of tsarism. Peasant unrest was spreading in the country, aggravated by the hypocritical nature of the peasant reform of 1861. After it, well-known peasant uprisings took place in the village of Kandeevka, Penza province, and in the village of Bezdna, Kazan province. The uprising was brutally suppressed, the Bezdnaya tragedy went down in history as one of the bloodiest crimes of tsarism. Student unrest grew, the network of secret revolutionary circles and groups expanded, and “inflammatory” leaflets and appeals circulated. The tsarist government was seriously frightened, and everything honest and progressive in Russia was waiting in anxious and joyful excitement for something that was about to happen, waiting for an explosion, waiting for a revolution.

Nikolai Gavrilovich Chernyshevsky was born on July 12 (24), 1828 in the city of Saratov. In 1846 he entered the Faculty of History and Philology of St. Petersburg University. In 1850 he graduated from it, and in 1851 he returned to Saratov, where he taught literature at the gymnasium. In May 1853, Chernyshevsky left for St. Petersburg, taught for some time in the Cadet Corps, worked on his dissertation and began his journalistic activity, first in Otechestvennye Zapiski, and then in Sovremennik, where he took a leading position.

Chernyshevsky turned the magazine into a platform for ideological struggle. Together with Nekrasov and Dobrolyubov, he led the democratic trend in Russian literature and journalism, which affirmed the high ideals of truth and humanism. In his literary critical articles published in Sovremennik, in his famous dissertation “Aesthetic Relations of Art to Reality,” Chernyshevsky argued: literature should be a “textbook of life,” calling for a revolutionary transformation of reality. Art becomes full-blooded only if it is imbued with the interests of the people. Chernyshevsky’s entire activity at Sovremennik was devoted to protecting these interests. On the eve of the reform of 1861, when the reactionaries insisted on the eternal ownership of the land by the nobles, Chernyshevsky agreed with the idea that “our peasant considers the field that he cultivates for himself to be his property...”, and asserted the complete justice of such a peasant conviction.

Chernyshevsky's articles (like Nekrasov's poems and Dobrolyubov's articles), in the opinion of the tsarist censorship, shook the very foundations of monarchical power.

Thus, the tsarist gendarmes were right when they saw Chernyshevsky as one of the most dangerous enemies of the autocracy. He is under surveillance, his articles are banned, censorship attacks Nekrasov's Sovremennik, and in 1862 the magazine is banned for eight months. In July 1862, Chernyshevsky was arrested and imprisoned in the Peter and Paul Fortress.

In the difficult conditions of solitary confinement, Chernyshevsky had to wage a tense struggle with the investigative commission, exposing the fraudulent tricks of the gendarmes, who did not have formal evidence of his guilt (this forced the gendarmes to resort to the services of a provocateur). It is incomprehensible how this man, under such conditions, could write a total of several dozen printed sheets - that is, over three thousand pages of printed text, including the novel “What is to be done?”

This fact can be explained only by one thing: the obsession of a conscious and convinced fighter. This also largely explains the power with which the novel “What is to be done?” had an impact. on Russian public opinion, on the minds and hearts of people, on friends and enemies. The latter attacked the book with frenzy, verbally and in print denouncing the heroes of the novel, its ideas, its artistic qualities, and the author himself, who was deprived of the opportunity to defend himself. But despite the official ban, the book continued to live.