Characteristics of the hero Anosov, Garnet bracelet, Kuprin. The image of the character Anosov. "Garnet bracelet": characteristics of the heroes, their role in the work General anosov garnet bracelet

Literature. Garnet Bracelet, 2 stories of General Anosov and got the best answer

Answer from
- Here you go. In one regiment of our division (but not in ours) there was the wife of a regimental commander. Erysipelas, I'll tell you, Verochka, supernatural. Bony, red-haired, long, thin, with a big mouth... The plaster was falling off her like from an old Moscow house. But, you know, a sort of regimental Messalina: temperament, authority, contempt for people, a passion for diversity. Plus, I'm a morphine addict.
And then one day, in the fall, they send a newly made ensign, a completely yellow-mouthed sparrow, just from a military school, to their regiment. A month later, this old horse completely mastered him. He is a page, he is a servant, he is a slave, he is her eternal cavalier in dances, wears her fan and scarf, in one uniform he jumps out into the cold to call her horses. It's a terrible thing when a fresh and clean boy puts his first love at the feet of an old, experienced and power-hungry harlot. If he now jumped out unscathed - anyway, in the future, consider him dead. This is a stamp for life.
By Christmas, she was tired of him. She returned to one of her old, tried passions. But he couldn't. Follows her like a ghost. He was exhausted, emaciated, turned black. Speaking in a high calm - "death already lay on his high forehead." He was terribly jealous of her. They say he spent whole nights standing under her windows.
And then one spring they arranged some kind of May Day or a picnic in the regiment. I knew her and him personally, but I was not present at this incident. As always in these cases, there was a lot to drink. They returned back at night on foot along the railroad tracks. Suddenly, a freight train comes towards them. It goes very slowly up, along a rather steep ascent. Gives whistles. And now, as soon as the locomotive lights caught up with the company, she suddenly whispers in the ear of the ensign: “You all say that you love me. But if I order you, you probably won’t throw yourself under the train.” And he, without answering a word, ran - and under the train. He, they say, correctly calculated, just between the front and rear wheels: it would have cut him neatly in half. But some idiot decided to hold him back and push him away. Didn't make it. The ensign clung to the rails with his hands, so both of his hands were chopped off.
- Oh, what a horror! Vera exclaimed.
- The ensign had to leave the service. Comrades collected some money for him to leave. It was inconvenient for him to stay in the city: a living reproach before the eyes of both her and the entire regiment. And a man disappeared... in the meanest way... Became a beggar... froze somewhere on the pier in St. Petersburg.
And the other case was quite pathetic. And the same woman was like the first, only young and beautiful. She behaved very, very badly. At what we easily looked at these home novels, but even we were jarred. And the husband is nothing. He knew everything, saw everything and was silent. Friends hinted at him, but he only waved his hands. “Leave it, leave it… It’s none of my business, none of my business… Let Lenochka be happy!..” Such an idiot!
In the end, she got on well with Lieutenant Vishnyakov, a subaltern from their company. So the three of us lived in a two-man marriage - as if this is the most legitimate type of marriage. And then our regiment moved to war. Our ladies saw us off, and she saw off, and, really, it was ashamed even to look: even for decency, she looked once at her husband - no, she hung herself on her lieutenant, like a devil on a dry willow, and does not leave. At parting, when we had already boarded the carriages and the train started moving, so she, after her husband, shamelessly, shouted: “Remember, take care of Volodya! If anything happens to him, I will leave home and never come back. And I'll take the kids."
Maybe you think that this captain was some kind of rag? slobber? dragonfly soul? Not at all. He was a brave soldier. Under the Green Mountains, he led his company six times to the Turkish redoubt, and out of two hundred people he had only fourteen left. Wounded twice - he refused to go to the dressing station. Here he was.

Answer from Јinsha[guru]
You can. Find a place where, after the celebration, he goes with Princess Vera and tells these stories.

Anosov was a military general who became a friend of the Tuganovsky family a very long time ago. He was appointed commandant of the fortress, and since then he became friends with the father of Anna and Vera, and became attached to the girls, like a father. He was a real Russian man, a soldier to the marrow of his bones, honest, noble and courageous. Despite the fact that he rose to the rank of general, he always behaved with everyone on an equal footing, respected the soldiers as well as the officers. He never acted dishonestly, he was always guided by his conscience in everything, but he did it in such a way that everyone respected him and considered him a worthy person. He was not afraid to fight, and went through several wars, participated in many battles, but when he was not called to another war, he did not ask, because he believed that one should not be a coward, but if you are not called to death, it’s better not to walk.

He always tried to act honestly and fairly, so he paid his runaway wife an allowance for the rest of his life, because he believed that he should fulfill his duties as a husband no matter what. But he did not want to let her back in, although she really asked, because he was proud and had self-esteem. He did not want to live with an unloved dishonest wife whom he did not trust. But, despite this, he did not leave her to the mercy of fate, but acted like a real man. General Anosov was a very good storyteller and was very fond of children. Since he did not have his own children, he transferred all his paternal feeling to the children of his friend, Anna and Vera, he played with them, told them stories from his military life, full of campaigns. They responded to him in return. He has the same paternal attitude towards everyone who is younger than him and who needs help. For example, he ordered lunch to be taken from his table for those who could not eat normally in the fortress, of which he was the commandant.

General Yakov Mikhailovich Anosov in Alexander Kuprin's story "Garnet Bracelet" characterizes the adult generation, which is able to guide the youth along the right path, along the path of love, fidelity; which will show the truth of life and will not let you drown in the falsity of the world around you. General Anosov did not find his place in a happy family life: his wife left him for a visiting artist. Yakov Mikhailovich is a military comrade of the father of the main characters.

The main characters of the work are Vera Nikolaevna and Anna Nikolaevna. Vera is married to a landowner. And their family is at first glance happy, but lost feelings are hidden behind the veil of this calmness. Vera has not loved her husband Vasily Lvovich for a long time, all passionate emotions have cooled down, only friendship and devotion remain.

Anna married a very wealthy, but also a contented stupid man. She initially did not love him, but nevertheless bore him two children. She did not want to give birth anymore and in every possible way despised her husband, condemning him behind his back and to his face. Anna is the goddaughter of General Amosov.

One evening, a party is held in the house of Vera Nikolaevna and her husband. All those present are carrying themselves unworthily: one is a military man, the men are sitting at the card table. In this situation, it became known about the failed wedding of Vera Nikolaevna's brother and Anna Nikolaevna, and that for several years in a row some abnormal person sent love messages to Vera without requiring a response. And it becomes clear that the highest account does not understand such a strong and wonderful feeling as love.

And it is Anosov who understands where the moral component of this society has slipped. He sees that young people no longer know how to love. For them, this is a frivolous word that can be scattered in different directions without going into the true meaning of this word. He also notices that the institution of marriage has been destroyed: people get married because of material calculation or out of momentary desire, without thinking about how they will live on. The general denounces the assembled; warns that they are on the verge of immorality, and that a little more and the feeling of love will leave them forever.

Yakov Mikhailovich himself never met pure and bright love in his life, but he continues to believe in it and believes that such love is rare, but it deserves to be with honest open people. He assures Vera Nikolaevna of this, and makes her think about the mysterious admirer and that it is possible that this is the love that all women dream of.

Option 2

This sick old man, the godfather of the Tuganovsky princesses, is at first glance ridiculous and absurd. He always walks with a stick in one hand and an auditory tube in the other. Despite the fact that he was the commandant of the fortress, he constantly walked around in civilian clothes, without weapons, often accompanied by two equally old and breathless pugs. In the city he was well known and loved for his kind attitude towards people. Usually, entering the guardhouse, he tried to support the arrested, often ordered to improve their food. He also said goodbye to loud comments in the opera, before which Anosov was a big fan. Anosov was once married, but his wife ran away from him with a passing actor. Since then, he gave all his love and tenderness to the daughters of his fighting friend - the girls Vera and Anya. He gave them gifts, took them to the circus and the theater, played with them for a long time. But most of all the girls liked the stories about his past - about wars and peaceful adventures. With these stories, Anosov entertained them on long winter evenings in the prince's living room.

And he had something to say. Anosov participated in all military actions of that time, except for the Japanese war, where he was not called. Anosov did not shine with education, but thanks to his courage and martial arts, he rose to the rank of colonel. Skobelev greatly appreciated his courage: "I know one officer braver than himself - this is Major Anosov." He never punished his subordinates; he refused to shoot prisoners. The authorities, seeing his iron conviction, left him alone. This officer kept in himself all the best features of a Russian warrior: “faith in God, naive and ingenuous, courage, mercy, patience and endurance. And the absence of fear of death, accepting any outcome of the battle. Those features that make the Russian warrior invincible. He returned from the war almost deaf, with a bad leg and severe rheumatism. But he refused to resign. Then the command fulfilled his request, appointing him for life to the post of commandant of the city - honorable and not burdensome.

The goddaughters also asked him about love, an important subject in the minds of young girls. Anosov had no doubt that “every woman in love is capable of the highest heroism,” but he was not so sure about men: “Men are to blame, satiated at twenty years old, with chicken bodies and hare souls ... And now women are taking revenge ... All because for generations we did not know how to bow before love. He believes that men marry for the comforts of life, or for the sake of a dowry.

True, once Anosov, a brave officer, was visited by love. He saw a young Bulgarian woman in Bucharest and fell in love. "Our eyes met, a spark ran between us, like an electric one." After a short time, they began to meet. However, the life of a soldier does not obey desires - it is time to leave. The lovers swore eternal love to each other, and parted forever. Remained a bright memory. Therefore, he advises his goddaughters not to pass by high feelings if they meet them.

An essay about Anosov

In the work "Garnet Bracelet" A.I. Kuprin described love in high society. One of the secondary characters in this story is Yakov Mikhailovich Anosov, a general and friend of the Tuganovskiy family. The author describes Anosov as a tall and obese man with gray hair. He has a red, rough face, and his eyes are good-natured and radiant, while slightly screwed up. The external data of the general inspires confidence and sympathy.

Anosov has seen a lot on his life path, faced danger and death face to face. In his personal life, he did not have happiness, his wife ran away from him before the war, falling in love with another. The general considers it his duty to pay this woman a cash allowance until the end of his days. However, when she wanted to return to her husband, a sense of pride and dignity did not allow her to forgive the betrayal.

The writer portrays Anosov as a real soldier, possessing such human qualities as honesty, courage, nobility. In all his actions, Yakov Mikhailovich is guided solely by his own conscience. The general treats ordinary soldiers with the same respect as he treats officers. He has no sense of fear in military battles.

Distinctive features of Yakov Mikhailovich is that he perfectly tells different stories, and he is also madly in love with children. The general enjoys spending time with them and teaches them various tricks.

General Anosov is a man who sees the destruction of the moral foundations that have existed for years. He worries that such a sublime feeling as love has now turned into something vulgar. The material side is important for young people, and their ability to love sincere and pure has been lost. The general was unlucky in family life, but he continues to believe in a bright sincere feeling.

Yakov Mikhailovich Anosov is the embodiment of justice and nobility, a symbol of wisdom that guides young people on the right path. He is ready to share his life experience and worldly knowledge in the field of relationships between people.

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A. I. Kuprin Garnet bracelet

L. van Beethoven. 2 Son. (op. 2, no. 2).

Largo Appassionato

I

In mid-August, before the birth of the new moon, the bad weather suddenly set in, which is so characteristic of the northern coast of the Black Sea. Sometimes for whole days a thick fog lay heavily over the land and the sea, and then the huge siren in the lighthouse roared day and night like a mad bull. Then from morning till morning it rained incessantly, fine as water dust, turning clay roads and paths into solid thick mud, in which carts and carriages got stuck for a long time. Then a fierce hurricane blew from the northwest, from the side of the steppe; from it the tops of the trees swayed, bending down and straightening up, like waves in a storm, the iron roofs of the dachas rattled at night, it seemed as if someone were running on them in shod boots, the window frames trembled, the doors slammed, and the chimneys howled wildly. Several fishing boats got lost in the sea, and two did not return at all: only a week later the corpses of fishermen were thrown out in different places on the coast.

The inhabitants of the suburban seaside resort - mostly Greeks and Jews, cheerful and suspicious, like all southerners - hastily moved to the city. Cargo drogs stretched endlessly along the softened highway, overloaded with all sorts of household items: mattresses, sofas, chests, chairs, washstands, samovars. It was pitiful, and sad, and disgusting to look through the muddy muslin of rain at this miserable belongings, which seemed so worn out, dirty and beggarly; on the maids and cooks sitting on the top of the wagon on a wet tarpaulin with some kind of irons, tins and baskets in their hands, on sweaty, exhausted horses, which now and then stopped, trembling at the knees, smoking and often carrying sides, on hoarsely cursing quails, wrapped up from the rain in mats. It was even sadder to see the abandoned dachas with their sudden spaciousness, emptiness and bareness, with mutilated flowerbeds, broken glass, abandoned dogs and all sorts of dacha rubbish from cigarette butts, pieces of paper, shards, boxes and apothecary's vials.

But by the beginning of September, the weather suddenly changed abruptly and quite unexpectedly. Quiet, cloudless days immediately set in, so clear, sunny and warm that there were none even in July. On the dry, compressed fields, on their prickly yellow bristles, autumn cobwebs shone with a mica sheen. The calmed trees silently and obediently dropped their yellow leaves.

Princess Vera Nikolaevna Sheina, the wife of the marshal of the nobility, could not leave the dachas, because the repairs in their city house had not yet been completed. And now she was very glad of the lovely days that had come, the silence, solitude, clean air, the chirping of the swallows on the telegraph wires that flocked to fly away, and the gentle salty breeze that weakly pulled from the sea.

II

In addition, today was her name day - September 17th. According to sweet, distant memories of childhood, she always loved this day and always expected something happy and wonderful from him. Her husband, leaving in the morning on urgent business in the city, put a case with beautiful pear-shaped pearl earrings on her night table, and this gift amused her even more.

She was alone in the whole house. Her unmarried brother Nikolai, a fellow prosecutor, who usually lived with them, also went to the city, to the court. For dinner, the husband promised to bring a few and only the closest acquaintances. It turned out well that the name day coincided with summer time. In the city, one would have to spend money on a big ceremonial dinner, perhaps even on a ball, but here, in the country, one could manage with the smallest expenses. Prince Shein, despite his prominent position in society, and perhaps thanks to him, could barely make ends meet. The huge family estate was almost completely upset by his ancestors, and he had to live above his means: to make receptions, do charity, dress well, keep horses, etc. Princess Vera, whose former passionate love for her husband had long since passed into a strong, faithful feeling, true friendship, tried with all her might to help the prince refrain from complete ruin. She in many ways, imperceptibly for him, denied herself and, as far as possible, economized in the household.

Now she was walking in the garden and carefully cutting flowers for the dinner table with scissors. The flower beds were empty and looked disordered. Multi-colored terry carnations were blooming, as well as levka - half in flowers, and half in thin green pods that smelled of cabbage, rose bushes still gave - for the third time this summer - buds and roses, but already shredded, rare, as if degenerated. On the other hand, dahlias, peonies and asters bloomed magnificently with their cold, arrogant beauty, spreading an autumnal, grassy, ​​sad smell in the sensitive air. The rest of the flowers, after their luxurious love and excessive abundant summer motherhood, quietly showered countless seeds of a future life on the ground.

Close by on the highway came the familiar sound of a three-ton car horn. It was the sister of Princess Vera, Anna Nikolaevna Friesse, who had promised in the morning to come by phone to help her sister receive guests and take care of the house.

Subtle hearing did not deceive Vera. She walked towards. A few minutes later a graceful carriage came to an abrupt halt at the dacha gate, and the driver, deftly jumping down from the seat, flung open the door.

The sisters kissed happily. From early childhood, they were attached to each other by a warm and caring friendship. In appearance, they were strangely not similar to each other. The eldest, Vera, took after her mother, a beautiful Englishwoman, with her tall, flexible figure, gentle, but cold and proud face, beautiful, although rather large hands, and that charming sloping of her shoulders, which can be seen in old miniatures. The youngest - Anna, - on the contrary, inherited the Mongolian blood of her father, a Tatar prince, whose grandfather was baptized only at the beginning of the 19th century and whose ancient family went back to Tamerlane, or Lang-Temir, as her father proudly called her, in Tatar, this great bloodsucker. She was half a head shorter than her sister, somewhat broad in the shoulders, lively and frivolous, a mocker. Her face was of a strongly Mongolian type, with rather noticeable cheekbones, with narrow eyes, which, moreover, she screwed up due to myopia, with an arrogant expression in her small, sensual mouth, especially in her full lower lip slightly protruding forward - this face, however, captivated some then an elusive and incomprehensible charm, which consisted, perhaps, in a smile, perhaps in the deep femininity of all features, perhaps in a piquant, provocatively coquettish facial expression. Her graceful ugliness excited and attracted the attention of men much more often and stronger than her sister's aristocratic beauty.

She was married to a very rich and very stupid man who did absolutely nothing, but was registered with some charitable institution and had the title of chamber junker. She could not stand her husband, but she gave birth to two children from him - a boy and a girl; She decided not to have any more children, and never did. As for Vera, she greedily wanted children and even, it seemed to her, the more the better, but for some reason they were not born to her, and she painfully and ardently adored the pretty anemic children of her younger sister, always decent and obedient, with pale mealy faces and curled flaxen doll hair.

Anna consisted entirely of cheerful carelessness and sweet, sometimes strange contradictions. She willingly indulged in the most risky flirting in all the capitals and in all the resorts of Europe, but she never cheated on her husband, whom, however, she contemptuously ridiculed both in the eyes and behind the eyes; she was extravagant, terribly fond of gambling, dancing, strong impressions, sharp spectacles, visited dubious cafes abroad, but at the same time she was distinguished by generous kindness and deep, sincere piety, which forced her even to secretly accept Catholicism. She had a rare beauty back, chest and shoulders. Going to big balls, she was exposed much more than the limits allowed by decency and fashion, but it was said that under the low neckline she always wore a sackcloth.

Vera, on the other hand, was strictly simple, coldly and a little condescendingly kind to everyone, independent and royally calm.

III

My God, how good are you here! How good! - said Anna, walking with quick and small steps next to her sister along the path. - If possible, let's sit a little on the bench above the cliff. I haven't seen the sea in such a long time. And what a wonderful air: you breathe - and your heart rejoices. In the Crimea, in Miskhor, last summer I made an amazing discovery. Do you know what sea water smells like during the surf? Imagine - mignonette.

Vera smiled softly.

You are a dreamer.

No no. I also remember the time everyone laughed at me when I said that there is some kind of pink tint in the moonlight. And the other day the artist Boritsky - that's the one who paints my portrait - agreed that I was right and that artists have known about this for a long time.

Is the artist your new hobby?

You always come up with! - Anna laughed and, quickly going to the very edge of the cliff, which fell like a sheer wall deep into the sea, looked down and suddenly screamed in horror and recoiled back with a pale face.

Wow, how high! she said in a weak and trembling voice. - When I look from such a height, it always tickles somehow sweetly and disgustingly in my chest ... and my toes ache ... And yet it pulls, pulls ...

She wanted to bend over the cliff again, but her sister stopped her.

Anna, my dear, for God's sake! It makes my head spin when you do that. Please sit down.

Well, well, well, I sat down ... But just look, what beauty, what joy - just the eye will not get enough. If you knew how grateful I am to God for all the miracles that he has done for us!

Both thought for a moment. Deep, deep beneath them lay the sea. The shore was not visible from the bench, and therefore the feeling of infinity and grandeur of the expanse of the sea intensified even more. The water was tenderly calm and cheerfully blue, brightening only in oblique smooth stripes in the places of the current and turning into a deep deep blue color on the horizon.

Fishing boats, hardly marked by the eye - they seemed so small - dozed motionless in the sea surface, not far from the coast. And then, as if standing in the air, not moving forward, a three-masted ship, all dressed from top to bottom with monotonous white slender sails, bulging from the wind.

I understand you, - the older sister said thoughtfully, - but somehow it’s not the same with me as with you. When I see the sea for the first time after a long time, it both excites me, and pleases, and amazes me. As if for the first time I see a huge, solemn miracle. But then, when I get used to it, it starts to crush me with its flat emptiness ... I miss looking at it, and I try not to look anymore. Bored.

Anna smiled.

What are you? the sister asked.

Last summer,” Anna said slyly, “we rode from Yalta in a big cavalcade on horseback to Uch-Kosh. It's there, behind the forestry, above the waterfall. First we got into the cloud, it was very damp and hard to see, and we all climbed up the steep path between the pines. And suddenly, somehow, the forest ended immediately, and we came out of the fog. Imagine; a narrow platform on a rock, and under our feet we have an abyss. The villages below seem no bigger than a matchbox, the forests and gardens look like fine grass. The whole area descends to the sea, like a geographical map. And then there is the sea! Fifty versts, a hundred ahead. It seemed to me that I hung in the air and was about to fly. Such beauty, such ease! I turn around and say to the guide in delight: “What? Okay, Seyid-ogly?” And he only smacked his tongue: “Oh, master, how tired all this mine is. We see it every day."

Thank you for the comparison, - Vera laughed, - no, I just think that we northerners will never understand the charms of the sea. I love the forest. Do you remember the forest we have in Yegorovsky?.. How can he ever get bored? Pine trees!.. And what mosses!.. And fly agarics! Accurately made of red satin and embroidered with white beads. The silence is so… cool.

I don't care, I love everything, - Anna answered. - And most of all I love my little sister, my prudent Verenka. There are only two of us in the world.

She hugged her older sister and snuggled up to her, cheek to cheek. And suddenly she caught on.

No, how stupid I am! You and I, as if in a novel, are sitting and talking about nature, but I completely forgot about my gift. Here look. I'm just afraid, will you like it?

She took out from her handbag a small notebook in a surprising binding: on the old blue velvet, worn and gray with time, a dull gold filigree pattern of rare complexity, subtlety and beauty curled - obviously, the love work of the hands of a skillful and patient artist. The book was attached to a gold chain as thin as a thread, the leaves in the middle were replaced by ivory tablets.

What a wonderful thing! Charm! Vera said and kissed her sister. - Thank you. Where did you get such a treasure?

In an antique shop. You know my weakness for rummaging through old junk. So I came across this prayer book. Look, you see how the ornament here makes the figure of a cross. True, I found only one binding, I had to invent everything else - leaves, fasteners, a pencil. But Mollinet did not at all want to understand me, no matter how I interpreted him. The clasps had to be in the same style as the whole pattern, matte, old gold, fine carving, and God knows what he did. But the chain is real Venetian, very ancient.

Vera affectionately stroked the beautiful binding.

What a deep antiquity! .. How long can this book be? she asked.

I'm afraid to be precise. Approximately the end of the seventeenth century, the middle of the eighteenth ...

How strange,” Vera said with a thoughtful smile. “Here I am holding in my hands a thing that, perhaps, the hands of the Marquise Pompadour or Queen Antoinette herself touched ... But you know, Anna, it was only you who could come up with the crazy idea to convert a prayer book into a ladies' carnet. However, let's go and see what's going on there.

They went into the house through a large stone terrace, closed on all sides by thick trellises of Isabella grapes. Plentiful black clusters, emitting a faint smell of strawberries, hung heavily between the dark, in some places gilded by the sun greenery. A green half-light spread over the entire terrace, from which the faces of the women immediately turned pale.

Are you telling me to cover here? Anna asked.

Yes, I myself thought so at first ... But now the evenings are so cold. It's better in the dining room. And let the men go here to smoke.

Will anyone be interesting?

I do not know yet. I only know that our grandfather will be.

Ah, dear grandfather. Here is joy! Anna exclaimed, throwing up her hands. I don't think I've seen him for a hundred years.

There will be Vasya's sister and, it seems, Professor Speshnikov. Yesterday, Annenka, I just lost my head. You know that they both love to eat - both the grandfather and the professor. But neither here nor in the city - you can't get anything for any money. Luka found quails somewhere - he ordered a familiar hunter - and something is wiser over them. The roast beef came out relatively good, alas! - the inevitable roast beef. Very good crabs.

Well, not so bad. You don't worry. However, between us, you yourself have a weakness for delicious food.

But there will be something rare. This morning a fisherman brought a sea detukh. I saw it myself. Just some kind of monster. Even scary.

Anna, greedily curious about everything that concerned her and that did not concern her, immediately demanded that they bring her a gurnard.

The tall, clean-shaven, yellow-faced cook Luka came in with a large, oblong white tub, which he held with difficulty by the ears, afraid to splash water on the parquet.

Twelve and a half pounds, Your Excellency,” he said with a special chef's pride. - We've been weighing.

The fish was too big for the pelvis and lay on the bottom with its tail curled up. Its scales shone with gold, the fins were bright red, and from the huge predatory muzzle two pale blue, folded, like a fan, long wings went to the sides. The gurnard was still alive and worked hard with its gills.

The younger sister gently touched the head of the fish with her little finger. But the rooster suddenly flapped its tail, and Anna with a squeal pulled her hand away.

Don't worry, Your Excellency, we'll arrange everything in the best possible way, - said the cook, who obviously understood Anna's anxiety. - Now the Bulgarian brought two melons. Pineapple. Kind of like cantaloupe, but the smell is much more fragrant. And I also dare to ask Your Excellency, what sauce would you like to serve with a rooster: tartar or Polish, otherwise you can just crackers in oil?

Do as you know. Go! - said the princess.

IV

After five o'clock the guests began to arrive. Prince Vasily Lvovich brought with him his widowed sister Lyudmila Lvovna, after her husband Durasov, a plump, good-natured and unusually silent woman; the secular young rich varmint and reveler Vasyuchka, whom the whole city knew under this familiar name, very pleasant in society with his ability to sing and recite, as well as arrange lively pictures, performances and charity bazaars; the famous pianist Jenny Reiter, a friend of Princess Vera at the Smolny Institute, as well as her brother-in-law Nikolai Nikolayevich. They were followed by Anna's husband in a car with a shaved, fat, ugly huge professor Speshnikov and with the local vice-governor von Seck. Later than the others, General Anosov arrived, in a good hired landau, accompanied by two officers: Staff Colonel Ponamarev, a prematurely old, thin, bilious man, exhausted by excessive clerical work, and Guards Hussar lieutenant Bakhtinsky, who was famous in St. Petersburg as the best dancer and incomparable manager of balls .

General Anosov, a fat, tall, silver old man, was heavily climbing down from the footboard, holding on to the railing of the goat with one hand, and with the other on the back of the carriage. In his left hand he held an auditory horn, and in his right a stick with a rubber tip. He had a large, rough, red face with a fleshy nose and that good-natured, majestic, slightly contemptuous expression in his narrowed eyes, arranged in radiant, swollen semicircles, which is characteristic of courageous and simple people who have often and close before their eyes seen danger and death. The two sisters, who had recognized him from afar, ran up to the carriage just in time to half-jokingly, half-seriously support him from both sides under the arms.

Exactly… a bishop! - said the general in an affectionate hoarse bass.

Grandpa, dear, dear! Vera said in a tone of slight reproach. - Every day we are waiting for you, and at least you showed your eyes.

Our grandfather in the south has lost all conscience, - Anna laughed. - One could, it seems, remember the goddaughter. And you keep yourself a Don Juan, shameless, and completely forgot about our existence ...

The general, baring his majestic head, kissed the hands of both sisters in turn, then kissed them on the cheeks and again on the hand.

Girls ... wait ... do not scold, - he said, interspersing each word with sighs that came from long-standing shortness of breath. “Honestly… the unfortunate doctors… bathed my rheumatism all summer… in some kind of dirty… jelly, it smells awful… And they didn’t let me out… You are the first… whom I came to… I’m terribly glad… to see you… How are you jumping?.. You, Verochka ... quite a lady ... she became very similar ... to her dead mother ... When will you call for baptism?

Oh, I'm afraid, grandfather, that never ...

Don't despair... everything is ahead... Pray to God... And you, Anya, haven't changed at all... Even at sixty you'll be the same dragonfly-egoza. Wait a minute. Let me introduce you to the officers.

I have had this honor for a long time! - said Colonel Ponamarev, bowing.

I was introduced to the princess in Petersburg, - picked up the hussar.

Well, I'll introduce you, Anya, Lieutenant Bakhtinsky. A dancer and a brawler, but a good cavalryman. Take it out, Bakhtinsky, my dear, out of the carriage there ... Let's go, girls ... What, Verochka, will you feed? I… after the firth regime… have an appetite, like a graduation… an ensign.

General Anosov was a comrade-in-arms and devoted friend of the late Prince Mirza-Bulat-Tuganovsky. After the death of the prince, he transferred all tender friendship and love to his daughters. He knew them when they were very young, and even baptized the younger Anna. At that time - as still - he was the commandant of a large, but almost abolished fortress in the city of K. and daily visited the Tuganovskys' house. Children simply adored him for pampering, for gifts, for lodges in the circus and theater, and for the fact that no one knew how to play with them so excitingly as Anosov. But most of all they were fascinated and most strongly imprinted in their memory by his stories about military campaigns, battles and bivouacs, about victories and retreats, about death, wounds and severe frosts - unhurried, epicly calm, simple-hearted stories told between evening tea and that boring hour when the children are called to bed.

According to modern customs, this piece of antiquity seemed to be a gigantic and unusually picturesque figure. He combined precisely those simple, but touching and deep features, which even in his time were much more common in privates than in officers, those purely Russian, peasant features that, when combined, give an exalted image that sometimes made our soldier not only invincible , but also a great martyr, almost a saint - features that consisted of a simple, naive faith, a clear, good-natured and cheerful outlook on life, cold and businesslike courage, humility in the face of death, pity for the defeated, endless patience and amazing physical and moral endurance.

Anosov, starting from the Polish war, participated in all campaigns except the Japanese one. He would have gone to this war without hesitation, but he was not called, and he always had a great rule of modesty: "Do not climb to death until you are called." In all his service, he not only never flogged, but even hit a single soldier. During the Polish uprising, he once refused to shoot prisoners, despite the personal order of the regimental commander. “I will not only shoot the spy,” he said, “but, if you order, I will personally kill him. And these are prisoners, and I can’t.” And he said it so simply, respectfully, without a hint of challenge or showiness, looking directly into the eyes of the chief with his clear, hard eyes, that instead of being shot himself, they left him alone.

During the war of 1877-1879, he very quickly rose to the rank of colonel, despite the fact that he was little educated or, as he himself put it, graduated only from the “bear academy”. He participated in the crossing of the Danube, crossed the Balkans, sat out on Shipka, was at the last attack of Plevna; they wounded him once seriously, four lightly, and, in addition, he received a severe concussion in the head with a fragment of a grenade. Radetsky and Skobelev knew him personally and treated him with exceptional respect. It was about him that Skobelev once said: "I know one officer who is much braver than me - this is Major Anosov."

From the war, he returned almost deaf due to a grenade fragment, with a sore leg, on which three fingers, frostbitten during the Balkan transition, were amputated, with the most severe rheumatism acquired on Shipka. They wanted to retire him after two years of peaceful service, but Anosov became stubborn. Here he was very opportunely helped with his influence by the head of the region, a living witness of his cold-blooded courage when crossing the Danube. In St. Petersburg, they decided not to upset the honored colonel, and he was given a life-long post of commandant in the city of K. - a position more honorable than necessary for the purposes of national defense.

In the city, everyone knew him from young to old and good-naturedly laughed at his weaknesses, habits and manner of dressing. He always went unarmed, in an old-fashioned frock coat, in a cap with large brim and with a huge straight visor, with a stick in his right hand, with an ear horn in his left, and invariably accompanied by two obese, lazy, hoarse pugs, who always had the tip of their tongues pulled out and bitten. If during his usual morning walk he had to meet with acquaintances, then passers-by for several blocks heard the commandant screaming and how his pugs barked in unison after him.

Like many deaf people, he was a passionate lover of opera, and sometimes, during some languid duet, his resolute bass would suddenly be heard throughout the theater: “But he took it clean, damn it! Just cracked a nut." Restrained laughter swept through the theater, but the general did not even suspect this: in his naivety, he thought that he had exchanged fresh impressions with his neighbor in a whisper.

As a commandant, he quite often, together with his wheezing pugs, visited the main guardhouse, where the arrested officers rested quite comfortably over screw, tea and jokes from the hardships of military service. He carefully asked everyone: “What is your last name? Planted by whom? How much? For what?" Sometimes, quite unexpectedly, he praised the officer for a brave, albeit illegal, act, sometimes he began to scold, shouting so that he could be heard on the street. But, having shouted his fill, without any transitions or pauses, he inquired where the officer was getting dinner from and how much he pays for it. It happened that some erring second lieutenant, sent for a long term from such a backwater, where there was not even a guardhouse of his own, admitted that he, due to lack of money, was content from a soldier's boiler. Anosov immediately ordered that lunch be brought to the poor fellow from the commandant's house, from which the guardhouse was no more than two hundred steps away.

In the city of K., he became close to the Tuganovsky family and became attached to the children with such close ties that it became a spiritual need for him to see them every evening. If it happened that the young ladies went somewhere or the service delayed the general himself, then he sincerely yearned and could not find a place for himself in the large rooms of the commandant's house. Every summer he took a vacation and spent a whole month at the Tuganovsky estate, Yegorovsky, fifty miles away from K..

He transferred all his hidden tenderness of the soul and the need of heartfelt love to these children, especially to girls. He himself was once married, but so long ago that he even forgot about it. Even before the war, his wife ran away from him with a passing actor, captivated by his velvet jacket and lace cuffs. The general sent her a pension until her death, but did not let her into his house, despite scenes of repentance and tearful letters. They didn't have children.

V

Against expectation, the evening was so still and warm that the candles on the terrace and in the dining-room were burning with fixed fires. At dinner, Prince Vasily Lvovich amused everyone. He had an extraordinary and very peculiar ability to tell stories. He took a true episode as the basis of the story, where the main character was one of those present or mutual acquaintances, but he exaggerated it so much and at the same time spoke with such a serious face and such a businesslike tone that the listeners burst into laughter. Today he talked about the failed marriage of Nikolai Nikolaevich to a rich and beautiful lady. The basis was only that the lady's husband did not want to give her a divorce. But with the prince, the truth is wonderfully intertwined with fiction. Serious, always somewhat stiff Nikolai, he forced to run down the street at night in nothing but stockings, with shoes under his arm. Somewhere on the corner, a young man was detained by a policeman, and only after a long and stormy explanation did Nikolai manage to prove that he was a prosecutor's comrade, and not a night robber. The wedding, according to the narrator, almost did not take place, but at the most critical moment, a desperate gang of perjurers who participated in the case suddenly went on strike, demanding an increase in wages. Out of stinginess (he really was stingy), and also being a principled opponent of strikes and strikes, Nikolai flatly refused to pay the excess, referring to a certain article of the law, confirmed by the opinion of the cassation department. Then the angry false witnesses to the well-known question: “Does anyone of those present know the reasons that prevent the marriage from taking place?” They answered in chorus: “Yes, we know. Everything shown by us at the trial under oath is a complete lie, to which we were forced by threats and violence, Mr. Prosecutor. And about the husband of this lady, we, as informed persons, can only say that he is the most respectable person in the world, chaste, like Joseph, and angelic kindness.

Having attacked the thread of marriage stories, Prince Vasily did not spare Gustav Ivanovich Friesse, Anna's husband, saying that the next day after the wedding he came to demand with the help of the police the eviction of the newlywed from her parental home, as not having a separate passport, and placing her in her place of residence legal husband. The only truth in this anecdote was that in the first days of her married life, Anna had to be constantly near her ill mother, since Vera hastily left for her south, and poor Gustav Ivanovich indulged in despondency and despair.

Everyone laughed. Anna smiled with her narrowed eyes. Gustav Ivanovich laughed loudly and enthusiastically, and his thin face, smoothly covered with shiny skin, with slick, thin, blond hair, with sunken eye sockets, looked like a skull, baring bad teeth in laughter. He still adored Anna, as on the first day of his marriage, he always tried to sit down beside her, imperceptibly touch her, and courted her so lovingly and self-satisfied that he often felt sorry for him and embarrassed.

Before getting up from the table, Vera Nikolaevna mechanically counted the guests. Turned out to be thirteen. She was superstitious and thought to herself: “This is not good! Why didn't I think of doing this before? And Vasya is to blame for not saying anything on the phone.

When close acquaintances gathered at the Sheins' or Friesse's, after dinner they usually played poker, since both sisters were ridiculously fond of gambling. Both houses even developed their own rules on this matter: all the players were given equally to the bone tokens of a certain price, and the game lasted until all the bones passed into one hand - then the game for that evening stopped, no matter how the partners insisted on continuation. It was strictly forbidden to take tokens from the cashier a second time. Such harsh laws were put out of practice to curb Princess Vera and Anna Nikolaevna, who, in their excitement, knew no restraint. The total loss rarely reached one hundred or two hundred rubles.

Sat down for poker and this time. Vera, who did not take part in the game, wanted to go out onto the terrace, where tea was served, but suddenly, with a somewhat mysterious look, the maid called her from the living room.

What is Dasha? - Princess Vera asked with displeasure, going into her small study, next to the bedroom. - What kind of stupid look do you have? And what are you holding in your hands?

Dasha placed a small square object on the table, neatly wrapped in white paper and carefully tied with a pink ribbon.

By God, it’s not my fault, Your Excellency, ”she stammered, blushing with resentment. He came and said...

Who is he?

Red cap, Your Excellency... messenger...

And what?

He went to the kitchen and put this on the table. “Tell, he says, to your mistress. But only, he says, in their own hands. I ask: from whom? And he says: "Here everything is marked." And with those words he ran away.

Come on and catch up with him.

You can't catch up, Your Excellency. He came in the middle of dinner, but I did not dare to disturb you, Your Excellency. There will be half an hour.

Okay, go ahead.

She cut the tape with scissors and threw it into the basket along with the paper on which her address was written. Under the paper was a small red plush jewelry case, apparently fresh from the store. Vera lifted the lid, lined with pale blue silk, and saw an oval gold bracelet wedged into black velvet, and inside it was a note carefully folded into a beautiful octagon. She quickly unfolded the paper. The handwriting looked familiar to her, but, like a real woman, she immediately put the note aside to look at the bracelet.

It was gold, low-grade, very thick, but puffy, and from the outside it was completely covered with small old, poorly polished grenades. But on the other hand, in the middle of the bracelet, surrounded by some strange little green stone, five beautiful cabochon garnets, each the size of a pea, rose. When Vera, with a random movement, successfully turned the bracelet in front of the fire of an electric light bulb, then in them, deep under their smooth ovoid surface, lovely, densely red living lights suddenly lit up.

"Just like blood!" Vera thought with unexpected anxiety.

Then she remembered the letter and unfolded it. She read the following lines, written in small, beautiful calligraphy:

"Your Excellency,

Dear Princess

Vera Nikolaevna!

Respectfully congratulating you on the bright and joyful day of your Angel, I dare to forward to you my humble loyal offering.

"Ah, that's the one!" Vera thought with displeasure. But, nevertheless, I read the letter ...

“I would never allow myself to present you with something that I personally chose: for this I have neither the right, nor fine taste, and - I confess - no money. However, I believe that in the whole world there is no treasure worthy to adorn you.

But this bracelet belonged to my great-grandmother, and the last time it was worn by my late mother. In the middle, between the big stones, you will see one green one. This is a very rare variety of pomegranate - green pomegranate. According to an old legend that has been preserved in our family, it has the ability to communicate the gift of foresight to women who wear it and drives away heavy thoughts from them, while protecting men from violent death.

All the stones are accurately transferred here from the old silver bracelet, and you can be sure that no one has ever worn this bracelet before you.

You can immediately throw away this funny toy or give it to someone, but I will be happy that your hands touched it.

I beg you not to be angry with me. I blush at the memory of my insolence seven years ago, when I dared to write stupid and wild letters to you, young lady, and even expect an answer to them. Now only reverence, eternal admiration and slavish devotion remain in me. Now I can only wish you happiness every minute and rejoice if you are happy. I mentally bow to the ground of the furniture you sit on, the parquet floor you walk on, the trees you touch in passing, the servants you talk to. I don't even have envy either for people or for things.

Once again, I apologize for disturbing you with a long, unnecessary letter.

Your obedient servant before death and after death.

“Show Vasya or not show? And if so, when? Now or after the guests? No, it's better after - now not only this unfortunate person will be ridiculous, but I will be with him too.

So thought Princess Vera and could not take her eyes off the five scarlet bloody fires trembling inside the five grenades.

VI

Colonel Ponamarev was barely able to be forced to sit down to play poker. He said that he did not know this game, that he did not recognize excitement at all, even in jest, that he loved and played comparatively well only vint. However, he could not resist the requests and eventually agreed.

At first he had to be taught and corrected, but he quickly got used to the rules of poker, and in less than half an hour, all the chips were in front of him.

You can not do it this way! Anna said with comic touchiness. - If only I could get a little excited.

Three of the guests - Speshnikov, the colonel and the vice-governor, a dull, decent and boring German - were such people that Vera positively did not know how to occupy them and what to do with them. She made up a screw for them, inviting Gustav Ivanovich fourth. Anna from a distance, in the form of gratitude, closed her eyes with her eyelids, and her sister immediately understood her. Everyone knew that if Gustav Ivanovich was not seated at the cards, then he would walk around his wife all evening, as if sewn on, baring his rotten teeth on the face of the skull and spoiling his wife's mood.

Now the evening flowed smoothly, without compulsion, briskly. Vasyuchok sang in an undertone, to the accompaniment of Jenny Reiter, Italian folk canzonettes and Rubinstein's oriental songs. His voice was small, but pleasant in timbre, obedient and faithful. Jenny Reiter, a very demanding musician, always willingly accompanied him. However, they said that Vasyuchok was looking after her.

In the corner on the couch, Anna flirted frantically with the hussar. Vera came up and listened with a smile.

No, no, please don’t laugh,” Anna said cheerfully, screwing up her sweet, perky Tatar eyes at the officer. - Of course, you consider it hard work to fly headlong ahead of the squadron and take barriers at the races. But just look at our work. Now we've just finished the allegri lottery. Do you think it was easy? Fi! A crowd, smoky, some kind of janitors, cab drivers, I don’t know what their names are ... And everyone pesters with complaints, with some kind of insults ... And the whole, whole day on their feet. And there is still a concert ahead for the benefit of insufficient intelligent workers, and there is still a white ball ...

At which, I dare to hope, you will not refuse me a mazurka? Bakhtinsky put in and, leaning slightly, clicked his spurs under the chair.

Thank you ... But my most, most painful place is our shelter. You see, an orphanage for vicious children...

Oh, I totally understand. It must be something very funny?

Stop laughing at such things, shame on you. But do you understand what our misfortune is? We want to shelter these unfortunate children with souls full of hereditary vices and bad examples, we want to warm them up, caress them ...

- ... raise their morality, awaken in their souls a sense of duty ... Do you understand me? And now hundreds, thousands of children are brought to us every day, but among them - not a single vicious one! If you ask the parents if the child is not vicious - so you can imagine - they are even offended! And now the shelter is open, consecrated, everything is ready - and not a single pupil, not a single pupil! At least offer a bonus for each vicious child delivered.

Anna Nikolaevna, - the hussar interrupted her seriously and insinuatingly. - Why the award? Take me for free. Honestly, you will not find a more vicious child anywhere.

Stop it! You can’t be taken seriously,” she burst out laughing, leaning back on the couch and her eyes twinkling.

Prince Vasily Lvovich, sitting at a large round table, showed his sister, Anosov and brother-in-law a homemade humorous album with handwritten drawings. All four laughed heartily, and this gradually drew guests here who were not busy with cards.

The album served, as it were, as an addition, an illustration to the satirical stories of Prince Vasily. With his unshakable calm, he showed, for example: "The story of the love affairs of the brave general Anosov in Turkey, Bulgaria and other countries"; "The adventure of petimeter Prince Nicolas Bulat-Tuganovsky in Monte Carlo" and so on.

Now you will see, gentlemen, a brief biography of our beloved sister Lyudmila Lvovna, ”he said, throwing a quick, amused look at his sister. - Part one - childhood. "The child grew up, he was named Lima."

On the sheet of the album there was a deliberately childishly drawn figure of a girl, with a face in profile, but with two eyes, with broken lines sticking out from under her skirt instead of legs, with outstretched fingers of outstretched hands.

No one has ever called me Lima, - Lyudmila Lvovna laughed.

Part two. First love. A cavalry junker brings a poem of his own creation to the girl Lima on her knees. There is a line of truly pearl beauty:

Your beautiful leg - A manifestation of unearthly passion!

Here is the original image of the foot.

And here the junker persuades the innocent Lima to escape from her parents' house. Here is the escape. And this is a critical situation: an angry father catches up with the fugitives. Juncker cowardly dumps all the trouble on meek Lima.

You were powdering everything there, wasted an extra hour, And now a terrible chase follows us ... As you wish, deal with it, you, And I run into the bushes.

After the story of the maiden Lima, a new story followed: "Princess Vera and the telegraph operator in love."

This touching poem is only illustrated with a pen and colored pencils, Vasily Lvovich explained seriously. - The text is still being prepared.

This is something new,” Anosov remarked, “I haven’t seen it yet.

Most recent release. Fresh news of the book market.

Vera softly touched his shoulder.

Better not, she said.

But Vasily Lvovich either did not hear her words, or did not attach real significance to them.

The beginning dates back to prehistoric times. One fine day in May, a girl named Vera receives a letter in the mail with kissing doves on the headline. Here is the letter, and here are the doves.

The letter contains an ardent declaration of love, written contrary to all the rules of spelling. It begins like this: “Beautiful Blond, you who ... a stormy sea of ​​​​flame bubbling in my chest. Your gaze, like a poisonous snake, dug into my tormented soul, ”and so on. At the end, a modest signature: “By the nature of the weapon, I am a poor telegraph operator, but my feelings are worthy of my lord George. I do not dare to reveal my full name - it is too indecent. I sign only in initial letters: P.P.Zh. Please answer me at the post office, poster restante. Here, gentlemen, you can also see a portrait of the telegrapher himself, very well executed with colored pencils.

Vera's heart is pierced (here is the heart, here is the arrow). But, as a well-behaved and educated girl, she shows the letter to respectable parents, as well as her childhood friend and fiancé, a handsome young man Vasya Shein. Here is the illustration. Of course, over time there will be poetic explanations for the drawings.

Vasya Shein, sobbing, returns the wedding ring to Vera. “I dare not interfere with your happiness,” he says, “but I beg you, do not immediately take a decisive step. Think, reflect, check both yourself and him. Child, you do not know life and fly like a moth to a brilliant fire. And I, alas! - I know the cold and hypocritical light. Know that telegraphers are fascinating, but insidious. It gives them an inexplicable pleasure to deceive an inexperienced victim with their proud beauty and false feelings and cruelly mock her.

Six months pass. In the whirlwind of life's waltz, Vera forgets her admirer and marries the handsome Vasya, but the telegraph operator does not forget her. Here he is disguised as a chimney sweep and, smeared with soot, penetrates into the boudoir of Princess Vera. Traces of five fingers and two lips, as you can see, are everywhere: on carpets, on pillows, on wallpaper and even on the parquet.

Here he is, in the clothes of a village woman, entering our kitchen as a simple dishwasher. However, the excessive favor of the cook Luka makes him take flight.

Here he is in the crazy house. But he took the veil as a monk. But every day he steadily sends passionate letters to Vera. And where his tears fall on the paper, there the ink blurs into blots.

Finally, he dies, but before his death, he bequeaths to give Vera two telegraph buttons and a bottle of perfume - filled with his tears ...

Gentlemen, who wants tea? - asked Vera Nikolaevna.

VII

The long autumn sunset burned out. The last crimson streak, narrow as a slit, glowed at the very edge of the horizon, between the gray cloud and the earth, went out. No more land, no trees, no sky. Only overhead, the big stars trembled with their eyelashes in the midst of the black night, and the blue beam from the lighthouse rose straight up in a thin pillar and splashed there as if on the dome of heaven in a liquid, foggy, bright circle. Night butterflies fluttered about the glass bell jars of the candles. The star-shaped flowers of white tobacco in the front garden smelled sharper from the darkness and coolness.

Speshnikov, the vice-governor, and Colonel Ponamarev had long since left, promising to send horses back from the tram station for the commandant. The rest of the guests sat on the terrace. General Anosov, despite his protests, was forced by the sisters to put on a coat and wrapped his legs in a warm blanket. In front of him was a bottle of his favorite red wine Pommard, next to him on both sides sat Vera and Anna. They carefully looked after the general, filled his thin glass with heavy, thick wine, moved matches to him, cut cheese and so on. The old commandant frowned with bliss.

Yes, sir ... Autumn, autumn, autumn, - said the old man, looking at the candle flame and shaking his head thoughtfully. - Autumn. Now it's time for me to get together. Ah, what a pity! The red days have just arrived. Here to live and live on the seashore, in silence, calmly ...

And they would live with us, grandfather, - said Vera.

You can't, honey, you can't. Service ... Vacation is over ... What can I say, it would be nice! Just look how the roses smell... I can hear from here. And in the summer, in the heat, not a single flower smelled, only white acacia ... and that one with sweets.

Vera took two small roses from the vase, pink and carmine, and put them into the buttonhole of the general's coat.

Thank you, Verochka. - Anosov bent his head to the side of his overcoat, sniffed the flowers and suddenly smiled a glorious old smile.

We came, I remember, to Bucarest and settled into apartments. Here I am walking down the street. Suddenly a strong pink smell wafted over me, I stopped and saw that between two soldiers there was a beautiful crystal bottle of rose oil. They have already greased their boots and also the locks of their rifles. "What is it with you?" - I ask. “Some kind of oil, your honor, they put it in porridge, but it’s not good, it makes your mouth tear, but it smells good.” I gave them a rouble, and they gladly gave it to me. There was already no more than half of the oil left, but, judging by its high cost, there was still at least twenty chervonets left. The soldiers, being pleased, added: "Yes, here's another, your honor, some kind of Turkish peas, no matter how much they boil it, but everything is not served, damn it." It was coffee; I told them: "This is only good for the Turks, but not for the soldiers." Luckily, they didn't eat opium. I saw in some places his cakes trampled in the mud.

Grandfather, tell me frankly, - Anna asked, - tell me, did you experience fear during the battles? Were you afraid?

How strange it is, Anna: I was afraid - I was not afraid. Understandably, he was afraid. Please don't believe the one who tells you that he was not afraid and that the whistle of bullets is the sweetest music for him. It's either a psycho or a braggart. Everyone is equally afraid. Only one is limp with fear, and the other is holding himself in his hands. And you see: the fear always remains the same, but the ability to restrain oneself from practice grows ever stronger; hence the heroes and the brave. So that. But I was scared to death once.

Tell me, grandfather, - the sisters asked in one voice.

They still listened to Anosov's stories with the same enthusiasm as in their early childhood. Anna even involuntarily spread her elbows on the table quite childishly and rested her chin on the drawn heels of her palms. There was some cozy charm in his leisurely and naive narration. And the very turns of phrases with which he conveyed his military recollections involuntarily took on a strange, clumsy, somewhat bookish character. It was as if he was talking according to some sweet, ancient stereotype.

The story is very short, - Anosov replied. - It was on Shipka, in winter, after I was concussed in the head. We lived in a dugout, the four of us. It was then that a terrible adventure happened to me. Once in the morning, when I got out of bed, it seemed to me that I was not Yakov, but Nikolai, and I could not convince myself of that. Noticing that my mind was becoming obscured, I shouted for water to be given to me, urinated my head, and my reason returned.

I can imagine, Yakov Mikhailovich, how many victories you won over women there, - said pianist Jenny Reiter. You must have been very beautiful from a young age.

Oh, our grandfather and now handsome! Anna exclaimed.

He was not handsome, ”Anosov said, smiling calmly. “But they didn’t disdain me either. Here in the same Bucarest was a very touching case. When we entered it, the inhabitants met us in the city square with cannon fire, from which many windows were damaged; but those on which water was placed in glasses remained unharmed. Why did I know this? Here's why. Arriving at the apartment allotted to me, I saw a low cage standing on the window, on the cage was a large crystal bottle with clear water, goldfish swam in it, and between them a canary sat on a couch. Canary in the water! - this surprised me, but, looking around, I saw that the bottom of the bottle was wide and pressed deep into the middle, so that the canary could freely fly in and sit there. After this, I confessed to myself that I was very slow-witted.

I entered the house and saw a pretty Bulgarian girl. I showed her a receipt for the stay and, by the way, asked why their glasses were intact after the cannonade, and she explained to me that it was from water. And she also explained about the canary: how stupid I was! .. And in the middle of the conversation our eyes met, a spark ran between us, like an electric one, and I felt that I fell in love immediately - ardently and irrevocably.

The old man fell silent and cautiously sipped the black wine with his lips.

But you did talk to her afterwards, didn't you? the pianist asked.

Hm… of course, they explained… But only without words. It happened like this...

Grandpa, I hope you don't make us blush? Anna remarked, laughing slyly.

No, no, - the novel was the most decent. You see: wherever we stopped, the city dwellers had their exceptions and additions, but in Bucarest the inhabitants treated us so briefly that when one day I began to play the violin, the girls immediately dressed up and came to dance, and such a custom was on every day.

Once, during the dance, in the evening, when the moon was lit up, I entered the porch, where my Bulgarian girl also disappeared. Seeing me, she began to pretend that she was sorting through dry rose petals, which, it must be said, the inhabitants there collect whole bags. But I hugged her, pressed her to my heart and kissed her several times.

Since then, every time the moon appeared in the sky with the stars, I hurried to my beloved and forgot all the daily worries with her for a while. When our campaign from those places followed, we swore an oath to each other in eternal mutual love and said goodbye forever.

And all? asked Lyudmila Lvovna disappointedly.

And what do you want more? - objected the commandant.

No, Yakov Mikhailovich, you will excuse me - this is not love, but simply a bivouac adventure of an army officer.

I don’t know, my dear, by God, I don’t know if it was love or another feeling ...

No ... tell me ... have you really never loved with real love? You know, such love, which ... well, which ... in a word ... holy, pure, eternal love ... unearthly ... Didn't they love?

Really, I won’t be able to answer you,” the old man hesitated, rising from his chair. - He must not have liked it. At first, there was no time for everything: youth, revelry, cards, war ... It seemed that there would be no end to life, youth and health. And then I looked back - and I see that I'm already a ruin ... Well, now, Verochka, don't hold me anymore. I will say goodbye ... Hussar, - he turned to Bakhtinsky, - the night is warm, let's go to meet our crew.

And I will go with you, grandfather, - said Vera.

Me too, Anna said.

Before leaving, Vera went up to her husband and said to him quietly:

Go and see... there in my desk, in a drawer, is a red case, and there is a letter in it. Read it.

VIII

Anna and Bakhtinsky walked in front, and behind them, about twenty paces, the commandant, arm in arm with Vera. The night was so black that in the first minutes, until the eyes got used to the darkness after the light, they had to grope their way with their feet. Anosov, who, despite the years, retained amazing vigilance, had to help his companion. From time to time he affectionately stroked Vera's hand, which lay lightly on the fold of his sleeve, with his large cold hand.

This Ludmila Lvovna is funny, - the general suddenly spoke, as if continuing aloud the flow of his thoughts. - How many times in my life have I observed: as soon as a lady reaches fifty, and especially if she is a widow or an old girl, she is drawn to spin around someone else's love. Either he spies, gloats and gossips, or he climbs to arrange someone else's happiness, or he breeds verbal gum arabic about sublime love. And I want to say that people in our time have forgotten how to love. I don't see true love. Yes, and in my time I did not see!

Well, how is it, grandfather? Vera retorted softly, shaking his hand lightly. - Why slander? You were married yourself. So, did you love it?

It means absolutely nothing, dear Verochka. Do you know how you got married? I see a fresh girl sitting next to me. Breathes - the chest and walks under the blouse. He lowers his eyelashes, such long, long ones, and all of a sudden it flares up. And the skin on the cheeks is tender, the neck is so white, innocent, and the hands are soft, warm. Oh you, damn! And then mom and dad walk around, eavesdrop behind the doors, look at you with such sad, dog-like, devoted eyes. And when you leave - there are some quick kisses behind the doors ... Over tea, the leg under the table seems to accidentally touch you ... Well, you're done. “Dear Nikita Antonych, I have come to you to ask for the hand of your daughter. Believe that this is a holy creature ... "And dad's eyes are already wet, and it's already climbing to kiss ... "Darling! I guessed for a long time ... Well, God forbid ... Just take care of this treasure ... ”And now, after three months, the holy treasure walks in a shabby hood, shoes on bare feet, thin hair, unkempt, in papillots, dogging with batmen like a cook, with breaks down with young officers, lisps, squeals, rolls his eyes. For some reason, she calls her husband Jacques in public. You know, that way in the nose, with a stretch, languidly: "F-a-a-ak." Motovka, actress, slob, greedy. And the eyes are always false, false ... Now everything has passed, subsided, settled down. I am even grateful to this actor in my heart ... Thank God that there were no children ...

Have you forgiven them, grandfather?

Forgive is not the right word, Verochka. The first time was like crazy. If I had seen them then, of course, I would have killed them both. And then, little by little, it went away and went away, and there was nothing left but contempt. And good. God spared the shedding of blood. And besides, I escaped the common fate of most men. What would I be if it wasn't for this nasty incident? A pack camel, a disgraceful drinker, a concealer, a cash cow, a screen, some kind of household necessities ... No! Everything is for the best, Verochka.

No, no, grandfather, you still have it, forgive me, says the old insult ... And you transfer your unfortunate experience to all of humanity. Take at least Vasya and me. Can we call our marriage unhappy?

Anosov was silent for a long time. Then he drawled reluctantly:

Well, okay... let's say - an exception... But in most cases, why do people get married? Let's take a woman. It's a shame to stay in girls, especially when your friends are already married. It's hard to be an extra mouth in the family. The desire to be the mistress, the head of the house, the lady, independent ... In addition, the need, the direct physical need of motherhood, and to start making your own nest. And the man has other motives. Firstly, fatigue from a single life, from disorder in the rooms, from tavern dinners, from dirt, cigarette butts, torn and scattered linen, from debts, from unceremonious comrades, and so on and so forth. Secondly, you feel that it is more profitable, healthier and more economical to live with a family. Thirdly, you think: when the kids come, I will die, but a part of me will still remain in the world ... something like the illusion of immortality. Fourth, the seduction of innocence, as in my case. In addition, there are sometimes thoughts about dowry. But where is love? Love disinterested, selfless, not waiting for a reward? The one about which it is said - "strong as death"? You see, such love, for which to accomplish any feat, to give one's life, to go to torment, is not labor at all, but pure joy. Wait, wait, Vera, do you want me again about your Vasya? Really, I love him. He is a good guy. Who knows, maybe the future will show his love in the light of great beauty. But you understand what kind of love I'm talking about. Love must be a tragedy. The greatest secret in the world! No comforts of life, calculations and compromises should concern her.

Have you ever seen such love, grandfather? Vera asked quietly.

No, the old man answered decisively. - I really know two similar cases. But one was dictated by stupidity, and the other ... well ... some kind of acid ... one pity ... If you want, I'll tell you. That's not for long.

Please, grandfather.

Here you go. In one regiment of our division (but not in ours) there was the wife of a regimental commander. Erysipelas, I'll tell you, Verochka, supernatural. Bony, red-haired, long, thin, with a big mouth... The plaster was falling off her like from an old Moscow house. But, you know, a sort of regimental Messalina: temperament, authority, contempt for people, a passion for diversity. Plus, I'm a morphine addict.

And then one day, in the fall, they send a newly made ensign, a completely yellow-mouthed sparrow, just from a military school, to their regiment. A month later, this old horse completely mastered him. He is a page, he is a servant, he is a slave, he is her eternal cavalier in dances, wears her fan and scarf, in one uniform he jumps out into the cold to call her horses. It's a terrible thing when a fresh and clean boy puts his first love at the feet of an old, experienced and power-hungry harlot. If he now jumped out unscathed - anyway, in the future, consider him dead. This is a stamp for life.

By Christmas, she was tired of him. She returned to one of her old, tried passions. But he couldn't. Follows her like a ghost. He was exhausted, emaciated, turned black. Speaking in a high calm - "death already lay on his high forehead." He was terribly jealous of her. They say he spent whole nights standing under her windows.

And then one spring they arranged some kind of May Day or a picnic in the regiment. I knew her and him personally, but I was not present at this incident. As always in these cases, there was a lot to drink. They returned back at night on foot along the railroad tracks. Suddenly, a freight train comes towards them. It goes very slowly up, along a rather steep ascent. Gives whistles. And now, as soon as the locomotive lights caught up with the company, she suddenly whispers in the ear of the ensign: “You all say that you love me. But if I order you, you probably won’t throw yourself under the train.” And he, without answering a word, ran - and under the train. He, they say, correctly calculated, just between the front and rear wheels: it would have cut him neatly in half. But some idiot decided to hold him back and push him away. Didn't make it. The ensign clung to the rails with his hands, so both of his hands were chopped off.

Oh, what a horror! Vera exclaimed.

The lieutenant had to leave the service. Comrades collected some money for him to leave. It was inconvenient for him to stay in the city: a living reproach before the eyes of both her and the entire regiment. And a man disappeared... in the meanest way... Became a beggar... froze somewhere on the pier in St. Petersburg.

And the other case was quite pathetic. And the same woman was like the first, only young and beautiful. She behaved very, very badly. At what we easily looked at these home novels, but even we were jarred. And the husband is nothing. He knew everything, saw everything and was silent. Friends hinted at him, but he only waved his hands. “Leave it, leave it… It’s none of my business, none of my business… Let Lenochka be happy!..” Such an idiot!

In the end, she got on well with Lieutenant Vishnyakov, a subaltern from their company. So the three of us lived in a two-man marriage - as if this is the most legitimate type of marriage. And then our regiment moved to war. Our ladies saw us off, and she saw off, and, really, it was ashamed even to look: even for decency, she looked once at her husband - no, she hung herself on her lieutenant, like a devil on a dry willow, and does not leave. At parting, when we had already boarded the carriages and the train started moving, so she, after her husband, shamelessly, shouted: “Remember, take care of Volodya! If anything happens to him, I will leave home and never come back. And I'll take the kids."

Maybe you think that this captain was some kind of rag? slobber? dragonfly soul? Not at all. He was a brave soldier. Under the Green Mountains, he led his company six times to the Turkish redoubt, and out of two hundred people he had only fourteen left. Wounded twice - he refused to go to the dressing station. Here he was. The soldiers prayed to God for him.

But she ordered ... Helen ordered him to!

And he looked after this coward and loafer Vishnyakov, this drone without honey, like a nurse, like a mother. On lodging for the night in the rain, in the mud, he wrapped him in his overcoat. Instead of him, I went to sapper work, and he rested up in a dugout or played shtos. At night, he checked guard posts for him. And this, mind you, Verunya, was at a time when bashi-bazouks cut out our pickets as simply as a Yaroslavl woman cuts cabbage stalks in her garden. By God, although it’s a sin to remember, everyone was delighted when they learned that Vishnyakov died in the hospital from typhus ...

Well, and women, grandfather, women you met loving?

Oh, of course, Verochka. I will even say more: I am sure that almost every woman is capable of the highest heroism in love. Understand, she kisses, hugs, gives herself - and she is already a mother. For her, if she loves, love contains the whole meaning of life - the whole universe! But it is not at all to blame for the fact that people's love has taken such vulgar forms and has descended simply to some kind of everyday convenience, to a little entertainment. The men are to blame, satiated at twenty years old, with chicken bodies and hare souls, incapable of strong desires, heroic deeds, tenderness and adoration before love. They say it has happened before. And if it didn’t happen, then didn’t the best minds and souls of mankind dream and yearn for it - poets, novelists, musicians, artists? The other day I was reading the story of Mashenka Lescaut and the Chevalier de Grie... Believe me, I was shedding tears... Well, tell me, my dear, honestly, doesn’t every woman in the depths of her heart dream of such love - one, all-forgiving, ready for everything, modest and selfless?

Oh, of course, of course, grandfather ...

And since she is not there, women take revenge. Another thirty years will pass... I won't see it, but maybe you will, Verochka. Mark my word that in thirty years women will occupy unheard of power in the world. They will dress like Indian idols. They will trample us men like contemptible, lowly slaves. Their extravagant whims and whims will become painful laws for us. And all because for generations we have not been able to bow and revere love. It will be revenge. You know the law: the force of action is equal to the force of reaction.

After a pause, he suddenly asked:

Tell me, Verochka, if it's not difficult for you, what is this story with the telegraph operator that Prince Vasily was talking about today? What is the truth here and what is fiction, according to his custom?

Are you interested, grandpa?

As you wish, as you wish, Vera. If you feel uncomfortable for some reason...

Yes, not at all. I'll be happy to tell.

And she told the commandant with all the details about some madman who began to pursue her with his love two years before her marriage.

She has never seen him and does not know his last name. He only wrote to her and signed his letters G.S.Zh. Once he mentioned that he was serving in some state institution as a small official - he did not mention a word about the telegraph. Obviously, he constantly followed her, because in his letters he indicated very precisely where she was at the evenings, in what society and how she was dressed. At first, his letters were vulgar and curiously ardent, although they were quite chaste. But one day, Vera wrote in writing (by the way, don’t talk about it, grandfather, about this to ours: none of them knows) asked him not to bother her anymore with his love outpourings. Since then, he kept quiet about love and began to write only occasionally: at Easter, on New Year's Day and on her name day. Princess Vera also spoke about today's parcel and even transmitted almost verbatim the strange letter from her mysterious admirer...

Yes," said the general at last. - Maybe it's just a crazy guy, a maniac, but - who knows? - maybe your life path, Verochka, was crossed by the kind of love that women dream about and that men are no longer capable of. Wait a minute. Do you see the lights ahead? Probably my crew.

At the same time, the loud roar of a car was heard from behind, and the road, pitted with wheels, shone with a white acetylene light. Gustav Ivanovich drove up.

Anna, I took your things. Sit down, he said. - Your Excellency, will you allow me to take you?

No, thank you, my dear, - the general answered. - I don't like this car. Only shivers and stinks, but no joy. Well, goodbye, Verochka. Now I will often come, - he said, kissing Vera's forehead and hands.

Everyone said goodbye. Friesse drove Vera Nikolaevna to the gate of her dacha and, quickly describing a circle, disappeared into the darkness with his roaring and puffing car.

IX

Princess Vera, with an unpleasant feeling, went up to the terrace and entered the house. Even from a distance she heard the loud voice of Brother Nikolai and saw his tall, dry figure, quickly scurrying from corner to corner. Vassily Lvovich was sitting at the card-table, and, bowing his large, fair-haired, cropped head low, was drawing in chalk on the green cloth.

I have insisted for a long time! - Nikolai said irritably and making such a gesture with his right hand, as if he were throwing some invisible weight on the ground. - I have been insisting for a long time to stop these stupid letters. Even Vera didn’t marry you when I assured you that you and Vera enjoy them like children, seeing them only as funny ... Here, by the way, Vera herself ... Vera, we are now talking with Vasily Lvovich about this madman of yours, about your Pe Pe Zhe. I find this correspondence impudent and vulgar.

There was no correspondence at all,” Shein coldly stopped him. - He wrote only one ...

Vera blushed at these words and sat down on the sofa in the shade of the large patchwork.

I apologize for the expression, ”said Nikolai Nikolaevich and threw an invisible heavy object to the ground, as if tearing it off his chest.

And I don’t understand why you call him mine, ”Vera interjected, delighted with her husband’s support. He's mine just like yours...

Okay, sorry again. In a word, I only want to say that his stupidity must be put to an end. The matter, in my opinion, goes beyond those boundaries where you can laugh and draw funny pictures ... Believe me, if I am busy here and what I worry about, it’s only about the good name of Vera and yours, Vasily Lvovich.

Well, you seem to have had too much, Kolya, - objected Shein.

Maybe, maybe ... But you easily run the risk of getting into a ridiculous position.

I don’t see how,” said the prince.

Imagine that this idiotic bracelet ... - Nikolai lifted the red case from the table and immediately threw it in disgust - that this monstrous priestly little thing will remain with us, or we will throw it away, or give it to Dasha. Then, firstly, Pe Pe Zhe can brag to his acquaintances or comrades that Princess Vera Nikolaevna Sheina accepts his gifts, and secondly, the very first case will encourage him to further exploits. Tomorrow he sends a ring with diamonds, the day after tomorrow a pearl necklace, and there - you see - he will sit in the dock for embezzlement or forgery, and the princes of Sheina will be called as witnesses ... Nice position!

No, no, the bracelet must be sent back! exclaimed Vasily Lvovich.

I think so too, - Vera agreed, - and as soon as possible. But how to do that? After all, we do not know either the name, or the surname, or the address.

Oh, this is quite empty business! Nikolai Nikolayevich objected dismissively. - We know the initials of this Pe Pe Zhe ... How is it, Vera?

Ge Es Zhe.

That's fine. In addition, we know that he is serving somewhere. This is absolutely enough. Tomorrow I take a city sign and look for an official or employee with such initials. If for some reason I don’t find him, then I’ll simply call a police detective agent and order him to be found. In case of difficulty, I will have in my hands this piece of paper with his handwriting. In a word, by two o'clock tomorrow afternoon I shall know exactly the address and surname of this fellow, and even the hours at which he is at home. And since I know this, then we will not only return his treasure to him tomorrow, but we will also take measures so that he will never again remind us of his existence.

What are you thinking of doing? - asked Prince Vasily.

What? I'll go to the governor and ask...

No, not to the governor. You know what our relationship is... There is a direct danger of getting into a ridiculous position.

Doesn't matter. I'll go to the gendarme colonel. He's my friend at the club. Let him call this Romeo and wag his finger under his nose. Do you know how he does it? He puts a finger to the very nose of a person and does not move his hand at all, but only one finger sways from him, and shouts: “I, sir, I will not tolerate this!”

Fi! Through the gendarmes! Vera winced.

Indeed, Vera, - picked up the prince. - It's better not to disturb anyone outsiders in this matter. There will be rumors, gossip… We all know our city quite well. Everyone lives as if in glass jars... I'd better go myself to this... young man... although God knows, maybe he's sixty years old?

Then I'm with you," Nikolai Nikolayevich quickly interrupted him. - You're too soft. Let me talk to him ... And now, my friends, - he took out his pocket watch and looked at it, - you will excuse me if I go to my place for a minute. I can barely stand on my feet, and I have two cases to look through.

For some reason, I felt sorry for this unfortunate man,” Vera said hesitantly.

There is nothing to pity him! - sharply responded Nikolai, turning around in the doorway. - If a person of our circle allowed himself such a trick with a bracelet and letters, then Prince Vasily would send him a challenge. And if he didn't, I would. And in the old days, I would have simply ordered him to be taken to the stable and punished with rods. Tomorrow, Vasily Lvovich, you wait for me in your office, I will inform you by phone.

X

The spit-stained staircase smelled of mice, cats, kerosene, and laundry. In front of the sixth floor, Prince Vasily Lvovich stopped.

Wait a little, - he said to the brother-in-law. - Let me rest. Oh, Kolya, you shouldn't have done that...

They climbed two more marches. It was so dark on the landing that Nikolai Nikolaevich had to light matches twice before he could make out the apartment numbers.

At his call, the door was opened by a plump, gray-haired, gray-eyed woman in glasses, with her torso slightly bent forward, apparently from some kind of illness.

Mr. Zheltkov at home? - asked Nikolai Nikolaevich.

The woman looked anxiously from the eyes of one man to the eyes of another and back again. The decent appearance of both must have reassured her.

Home, please, - she said, opening the door. - First door on the left.

Bulat-Tuganovskiy knocked three times briefly and decisively. Some rustle was heard inside. He knocked again.

The room was very low, but very wide and long, almost square in shape. Two round windows, quite similar to ship portholes, barely illuminated her. Yes, and all of it was similar to the wardroom of a cargo steamer. Along one wall stood a narrow bed, along the other a very large and wide sofa, covered with a tattered beautiful Teke carpet, in the middle - a table covered with a colored Little Russian tablecloth.

At first the host's face was not visible: he stood with his back to the light and rubbed his hands in confusion. He was tall, thin, with long, fluffy, soft hair.

If I'm not mistaken, Mr. Zheltkov? asked Nikolai Nikolaevich arrogantly.

Zheltkov. Very nice. Let me introduce myself.

He took two steps towards Tuganovsky with outstretched hand. But at the same moment, as if not noticing his greeting, Nikolai Nikolaevich turned his whole body to Shein.

I told you we weren't wrong.

Zheltkov's thin, nervous fingers ran along the side of his short brown jacket, fastening and unbuttoning the buttons. Finally, he uttered with difficulty, pointing to the sofa and bowing awkwardly:

I humbly ask. Sit down.

Now he was all visible: very pale, with a tender girlish face, with blue eyes and a stubborn childish chin with a dimple in the middle; he must have been about thirty, thirty-five years old.

Thank you,” Prince Shein said simply, looking at him very carefully.

Merci, - Nikolai Nikolaevich answered shortly. Both remained standing. - We're only here for a few minutes. This is Prince Vasily Lvovich Shein, provincial marshal of the nobility. My last name is Mirza-Bulat-Tuganovskiy. I am a fellow prosecutor. The matter, about which we will have the honor to speak with you, equally concerns both the prince and me, or, rather, the prince's wife, but my sister.

Zheltkov, completely bewildered, suddenly sank down on the sofa and muttered with dead lips: "Please, gentlemen, sit down." But he must have remembered that he had already unsuccessfully suggested the same thing before, jumped up, ran to the window, pulling his hair, and returned to his original place. And again his trembling hands ran, fiddling with the buttons, pinching his blond reddish mustache, touching his face unnecessarily.

I am at your service, Your Excellency," he said muffledly, looking at Vasily Lvovich with imploring eyes.

But Shein remained silent. Nikolai Nikolaevich spoke.

First, let me return your thing to you,” he said, and taking a red case out of his pocket, carefully placed it on the table. - She, of course, does credit to your taste, but we would very much ask you that such surprises should not be repeated again.

Excuse me... I myself know that I am very guilty, - whispered Zheltkov, looking down at the floor, and blushing. - Would you like a glass of tea?

You see, Mr. Zheltkov, - continued Nikolai Nikolaevich, as if not having heard Zheltkov's last words. - I am very glad that I found in you a decent person, a gentleman who can understand perfectly. And I think that we will agree immediately. After all, if I am not mistaken, you have been pursuing Princess Vera Nikolaevna for about seven or eight years now?

Yes, - answered Zheltkov quietly and lowered his eyelashes reverently.

And so far we have not taken any measures against you, although - you will agree - this not only could, but even had to be done. Is not it?

Yes. But by your last act, namely by sending this very garnet bracelet, you crossed those boundaries where our patience ends. Do you understand? - ends. I will not hide from you that our first thought was to turn to the authorities for help, but we did not do this, and I am very glad that we did not, because - I repeat - I immediately guessed a noble person in you.

Sorry. As you said? Zheltkov suddenly asked attentively and laughed. - You wanted to appeal to the authorities?.. Is that what you said?

He put his hands in his pockets, sat comfortably in the corner of the sofa, took out a cigarette case and matches, and lit a cigarette.

So, you said that you wanted to resort to the help of the authorities? .. You will excuse me, prince, why am I sitting? he turned to Shein. - Nu-with, further?

The prince pulled a chair up to the table and sat down. Without looking up, he looked with bewilderment and greedy, serious curiosity into the face of this strange man.

You see, my dear, this measure will never leave you,” Nikolai Nikolaevich continued with slight impudence. - Break into someone else's family ...

I'm sorry, I'll interrupt you...

No, I'm sorry, now I'll interrupt you ... - the prosecutor almost shouted.

As you please. Speak up. I'm listening to. But I have a few words for Prince Vasily Lvovich.

And, paying no more attention to Tuganovsky, he said:

Now is the hardest moment of my life. And I must, prince, speak to you without any conventions ... Will you listen to me?

Listen, - said Shein. "Ah, Kolya, shut up," he said impatiently, noticing Tuganovsky's angry gesture. - Talk.

Zheltkov gasped for air for several seconds, as if he were choking, and suddenly he rolled as if off a cliff. He spoke only with his jaws, his lips were white and did not move, like those of a dead man.

It is difficult to pronounce such a ... phrase ... that I love your wife. But seven years of hopeless and polite love gives me the right to do so. I agree that in the beginning, when Vera Nikolaevna was still a young lady, I wrote stupid letters to her and even waited for an answer to them. I agree that my last act, namely sending the bracelet, was even more stupid. But ... here I look you straight in the eyes and feel that you will understand me. I know that I can never stop loving her ... Tell me, prince ... suppose that this is unpleasant for you ... tell me - what would you do in order to cut off this feeling? Send me to another city, as Nikolai Nikolayevich said? All the same, I will love Vera Nikolaevna there as well as here. Jail me? But even there I will find a way to let her know about my existence. There is only one thing left - death ... You want, I will accept it in any form.

Instead of deeds, we are making some kind of melodic declamation, ”said Nikolai Nikolaevich, putting on his hat. - The question is very short: you are offered one of two things: either you completely refuse to persecute Princess Vera Nikolaevna, or, if you do not agree to this, we will take measures that our position, acquaintance, and so on will allow us.

But Zheltkov did not even look at him, although he heard his words. He turned to Prince Vasily Lvovich and asked:

Will you let me leave for ten minutes? I won't hide from you that I'm going to talk on the phone with Princess Vera Nikolaevna. I assure you that everything that can be conveyed to you, I will convey.

Go, Shein said.

When Vasily Lvovich and Tuganovsky were left alone, Nikolai Nikolayevich immediately attacked his brother-in-law.

You can't do that," he shouted, pretending to throw some invisible object on the ground from his chest with his right hand. - So positively it is impossible. I warned you that I will take care of the entire business part of the conversation. And you became limp and allowed him to spread about his feelings. I would do it in a nutshell.

Wait, - said Prince Vasily Lvovich, - now all this will be explained. The main thing is that I see his face, and I feel that this person is not capable of deceiving and lying knowingly. And really, think, Kolya, is he really to blame for love, and is it possible to control such a feeling as love - a feeling that has not yet found an interpreter for itself. - Thinking, the prince said: - I feel sorry for this man. And not only am I sorry, but now I feel that I am present at some enormous tragedy of the soul, and I cannot play the clownish here.

This is decadence,” said Nikolai Nikolaevich.

Ten minutes later Zheltkov returned. His eyes shone and were deep, as if filled with unshed tears. And it was evident that he had completely forgotten about social decorum, about who should sit where, and stopped behaving like a gentleman. And again, with a sick, nervous sensitivity, Prince Shein understood this.

I'm ready," he said, "and you won't hear anything from me tomorrow. It's like I'm dead for you. But one condition - I'm telling you, Prince Vasily Lvovich - you see, I spent the government money, and I have to flee this city anyway. Will you allow me to write one last letter to Princess Vera Nikolaevna?

No. If finished, so finished. No letters, - shouted Nikolai Nikolayevich.

Well, write, - said Shein.

That's all, - said Zheltkov, smiling arrogantly. “You will never hear from me again and, of course, you will never see me again. Princess Vera Nikolaevna did not want to speak to me at all. When I asked her if it was possible for me to stay in the city so that I could see her at least occasionally, of course without showing her eyes, she replied: “Ah, if you only knew how tired I am of this whole story. Please stop it as soon as possible." And so I end this whole story. Seems like I did my best?

In the evening, arriving at the dacha, Vasily Lvovich conveyed to his wife very precisely all the details of the meeting with Zheltkov. He seemed to feel compelled to do so.

Vera, although alarmed, was not surprised or confused. At night, when her husband came to her bed, she suddenly said to him, turning to the wall:

Leave me - I know this man will kill himself.

XI

Princess Vera Nikolaevna never read newspapers, because, firstly, they dirty her hands, and secondly, she could never understand the language in which they write today.

But fate forced her to unfold just that sheet and come across the column where it was printed:

"A mysterious death. Yesterday evening, at about seven o'clock, G. S. Zheltkov, an official of the Control Chamber, committed suicide. Judging by the data of the investigation, the death of the deceased occurred due to the embezzlement of state money. So, at least, the suicide mentions in his letter. In view of the fact that the testimony of witnesses established his personal will in this act, it was decided not to send the corpse to the anatomical theater.

Vera thought to herself:

“Why did I feel this? Is it this tragic outcome? And what was it: love or madness?

All day she walked around the flower garden and the orchard. Anxiety, which grew in her from minute to minute, seemed to prevent her from sitting still. And all her thoughts were riveted to that unknown person whom she had never seen and is unlikely to ever see, to this funny Pe Pe Zhe.

“Who knows, maybe real, selfless, true love crossed your life path,” she remembered Anosov’s words.

The postman came at six o'clock. This time, Vera Nikolaevna recognized Zheltkov's handwriting, and with a tenderness that she did not expect in herself, she unfolded the letter:

Zheltkov wrote:

“It’s not my fault, Vera Nikolaevna, that God was pleased to send me, as a huge happiness, love for you. It so happened that I am not interested in anything in life: neither politics, nor science, nor philosophy, nor concern for the future happiness of people - for me, all life is only in you. I now feel that some uncomfortable wedge crashed into your life. If you can, forgive me for this. Today I am leaving and will never return, and nothing will remind you of me.

I am infinitely grateful to you just for the fact that you exist. I checked myself - this is not a disease, not a manic idea - this is love, which God was pleased to reward me for something.

Let me be ridiculous in your eyes and in the eyes of your brother, Nikolai Nikolaevich. As I leave, I say in delight: “Hallowed be thy name.”

Eight years ago I saw you in a circus in a box, and at the same time in the first second I said to myself: I love her because there is nothing like her in the world, there is nothing better, there is no beast, no plant, no star, not a person is more beautiful and more tender than you. All the beauty of the earth seems to be embodied in you ...

Think what I should have done? Run away to another city? All the same, the heart was always near you, at your feet, every moment of the day was filled with you, the thought of you, dreams of you ... sweet delirium. I am very ashamed and mentally blush for my stupid bracelet, - well, what? - error. I can imagine the impression he made on your guests.

I'll be leaving in ten minutes, I'll just have time to stick a stamp and put the letter in the mailbox so as not to entrust this to anyone else. Burn this letter. I have now fired up the stove and am burning everything that is dearest to me in my life: your handkerchief, which, I confess, I stole. You forgot it on a chair at a ball in the Noble Assembly. Your note - oh, how I kissed her - with it you forbade me to write to you. The program of an art exhibition that you once held in your hand and then forgot on a chair when you left ... It's over. I cut everything off, but still I think and I am even sure that you will remember me. If you remember me, then ... I know that you are very musical, I saw you most often on Beethoven's quartets - so, if you remember me, then play or order to play the D-dur sonata, No. 2, op. 2.

I don't know how to finish the letter. From the bottom of my heart I thank you for being my only joy in life, my only consolation, my only thought. May God grant you happiness, and may nothing temporary and worldly disturb your beautiful soul. I kiss your hands.

She came to her husband with eyes reddened from tears and swollen lips, and, showing the letter, said:

I don't want to hide anything from you, but I feel that something terrible has interfered with our lives. Probably, you and Nikolai Nikolaevich did something wrong.

Prince Shein carefully read the letter, carefully folded it, and after a long pause, said:

I do not doubt the sincerity of this man, and even more, I do not dare to understand his feelings for you.

He died? Vera asked.

Yes, he died, I will say that he loved you, but was not crazy at all. I kept my eyes on him and saw his every move, every change in his face. And for him there was no life without you. It seemed to me that I was present at the tremendous suffering from which people die, and even almost realized that before me was a dead person. You see, Vera, I did not know how to behave, what to do ...

So, Vasenka, - Vera Nikolaevna interrupted him, - won't it hurt you if I go to the city and look at him?

No no. Faith, please, I beg you. I would go myself, but only Nikolai ruined the whole thing for me. I'm afraid I'll feel forced.

XII

Vera Nikolaevna left her carriage two streets before Lutheranskaya. She found Zheltkov's apartment without much difficulty. A grey-eyed old woman, very plump, wearing silver glasses, came out to meet her, and just like yesterday, she asked:

Who do you want?

Mr. Zheltkov, - said the princess.

Her costume - hat, gloves - and somewhat imperious tone must have made a great impression on the hostess of the apartment. She started talking.

Please, please, here is the first door on the left, and there now ... He left us so soon. Well, let's say waste. Would tell me about it. You know what our capital is when you rent apartments to bachelors. But some six hundred or seven hundred rubles I could collect and pay for it. If you knew what a wonderful man he was, sir. For eight years I kept him in the apartment, and he seemed to me not at all a lodger, but my own son.

Right there in the hall was a chair, and Vera sank into it.

I am a friend of your late tenant,” she said, choosing every word for the word. - Tell me something about the last minutes of his life, about what he did and what he said.

Pani, two gentlemen came to us and talked for a very long time. Then he explained that he had been offered a job as manager of the economy. Then Pan Ezhiy ran to the telephone and returned so cheerful. Then the two gentlemen left, and he sat down and began to write a letter. Then he went and put the letter in the box, and then we hear as if a child's pistol was fired. We didn't pay any attention. He always had tea at seven o'clock. Lukerya - the servant - comes and knocks, he does not answer, then again, again. And now they were supposed to break the door, and he was already dead.

Tell me something about the bracelet, - ordered Vera Nikolaevna.

Ah, ah, ah, the bracelet - I forgot. Why do you know? He, before writing a letter, came to me and said: "Are you a Catholic?" I say "Catholic". Then he says: “You have a nice custom - that's what he said: a nice custom - to hang rings, necklaces, gifts on the image of the uterus of shoes. So fulfill my request: can you hang this bracelet on the icon? I promised him to do it.

Will you show it to me? Vera asked.

Please, please, sir. Here is his first door on the left. They wanted to take him to the anatomical theater today, but he has a brother, so he begged him to be buried in a Christian way. Please, please.

Vera gathered her strength and opened the door. The room smelled of incense and three wax candles were burning. Zheltkov was lying on the table diagonally across the room. His head was resting very low, as if on purpose, a small soft pillow was slipped into him, a corpse that didn’t care. Deep importance was in his closed eyes, and his lips smiled blissfully and serenely, as if before parting with life he had learned some deep and sweet secret that solved his whole human life. She remembered that she had seen the same peaceful expression on the masks of the great sufferers - Pushkin and Napoleon.

If you order me, sir, will I leave? asked the old woman, and there was something extremely intimate in her tone.

Yes, I’ll call you later, ”Vera said, and immediately took out a large red rose from the small side pocket of her blouse, raised the corpse’s head a little with her left hand, and put a flower under his neck with her right hand. At that moment, she realized that the love that every woman dreams of had passed her by. She remembered the words of General Anosov about eternal exclusive love - almost prophetic words. And, parting the hair on the dead man's forehead to both sides, she tightly squeezed his temples with her hands and kissed him on the cold, wet forehead with a long friendly kiss.

When she left, the landlady turned to her in a flattering Polish tone:

Pani, I see that you are not like everyone else, not just out of curiosity. The late Pan Zheltkov told me before his death: “If it happens that I die and some lady comes to look at me, then tell her that Beethoven has the best work ...” - he even wrote it down for me on purpose. Look here...

Show me, - said Vera Nikolaevna and suddenly burst into tears. - Excuse me, this impression of death is so hard that I can't help it.

And she read the words, written in familiar handwriting: “L. van Beethoven. Son. No. 2, op. 2. Largo Appassionato.

XIII

Vera Nikolaevna returned home late in the evening and was glad that she did not find either her husband or her brother at home.

But the pianist Jenny Reiter was waiting for her, and, excited by what she saw and heard, Vera rushed to her and, kissing her beautiful big hands, shouted:

Jenny, my dear, I beg you, play something for me, - and immediately left the room into the flower garden and sat down on a bench.

She had no doubts for almost a single second that Jenny would play the very passage from the Second Sonata that this dead man with the ridiculous surname Zheltkov had asked for.

So it was. She recognized from the first chords this exceptional piece, unique in its depth. And her soul seemed to split in two. She simultaneously thought that a great love passed by her, which is repeated only once in a thousand years. She remembered the words of General Anosov and asked herself: why did this man make her listen to this particular Beethoven work, and also against her desire? And the words formed in her mind. They so coincided in her thoughts with the music that they were like couplets that ended with the words: "Hallowed be thy name."

“Now I will show you in gentle sounds a life that humbly and joyfully doomed itself to torment, suffering and death. I knew no complaint, no reproach, no pain of pride. I am before you - one prayer: "Hallowed be thy name."

Yes, I foresee suffering, blood and death. And I think that it is difficult for the body to part with the soul, but, Beautiful, praise to you, passionate praise and quiet love. "Hallowed be thy name."

I remember your every step, smile, look, the sound of your gait. Sweet melancholy, quiet, beautiful melancholy are wrapped around my last memories. But I won't hurt you. I'm leaving alone, silently, as it was pleasing to God and fate. "Hallowed be thy name."

In the dying sad hour, I pray only to you. Life could be great for me too. Do not grumble, poor heart, do not grumble. In my soul I call for death, but in my heart I am full of praise to you: “Hallowed be your name.”

You, you and the people around you, all of you don't know how beautiful you were. The clock strikes. Time. And, dying, I still sing in the mournful hour of parting with life - glory to Thee.

Here she comes, all pacifying death, and I say - glory to You! .. "

Princess Vera hugged the trunk of an acacia tree, clung to it and wept. The tree shook gently. A light wind blew up and, as if in sympathy with her, rustled the leaves. The stars of tobacco smelled sharper ... And at that time, amazing music, as if obeying her grief, continued:

“Calm down, darling, calm down, calm down. Do you remember me? Do you remember? You are my one and only love. Calm down, I'm with you. Think of me and I will be with you, because you and I have only loved each other for a moment, but forever. Do you remember me? Do you remember? Do you remember? Here I feel your tears. Calm down. I sleep so sweetly, sweetly, sweetly.

Jenny Reiter left the room, having already finished playing, and saw Princess Vera sitting on a bench all in tears.

What happened to you? the pianist asked.

Vera, with her eyes shining with tears, restlessly, excitedly began to kiss her face, lips, eyes, and said:

No, no, he forgave me now. Everything is fine.

Notes

1

Notebook (French).

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2

... starting with the Polish war ... - Apparently, we are talking about the suppression of the Polish national liberation movement of 1863-1864 by the tsarist troops.

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3

During the Polish uprising… - See the previous note.

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4

In the war of 1877-1879. - We are talking about the Russian-Turkish war of 1877-1878, in which Russia opposed Turkey for granting autonomy to the Slavic population of Bulgaria, Bosnia and Herzegovina.

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5

... on Shipka. - Russian troops and Bulgarian militias heroically defended the Shipka Pass from the Turks during the Russo-Turkish War of 1877–1878.

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6

... the last attack of Plevna. - This refers to the third attack of Russian troops on the Bulgarian city of Pleven fortified by the Turkish army on August 30–31, 1877.

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7

Radetsky and Skobelev - Radetsky Fedor Fedorovich (1820–1890) - Russian general, commanded a corps in the Russian-Turkish war of 1877–1878, participated in the defense of Shipka. Skobelev Mikhail Dmitrievich (1843-1882) - a prominent Russian military figure, a participant in the Russian-Turkish war of 1877-1878.

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8

on demand (distorted French poste restante).

Anna and Bakhtinsky walked in front, and behind them, about twenty paces, the commandant, arm in arm with Vera. The night was so black that in the first minutes, until the eyes got used to the darkness after the light, they had to grope their way with their feet. Anosov, who, despite the years, retained amazing vigilance, had to help his companion. From time to time he affectionately stroked Vera's hand, which lay lightly on the fold of his sleeve, with his large cold hand. “That Ludmila Lvovna is funny,” the general suddenly spoke, as if continuing aloud the flow of his thoughts. - How many times in my life have I observed: as soon as a lady reaches fifty, and especially if she is a widow or an old girl, then she is drawn to spin around someone else's love. Either he spies, gloats and gossips, or he climbs to arrange someone else's happiness, or he breeds verbal gum arabic about sublime love. And I want to say that people in our time have forgotten how to love. I don't see true love. Yes, and in my time I did not see! — Well, how is it, grandfather? Vera retorted softly, shaking his hand lightly. - Why slander? You were married yourself. So, did you love it? “It means absolutely nothing, dear Verochka. Do you know how you got married? I see a fresh girl sitting next to me. Breathing - the chest and walks under the blouse. He lowers his eyelashes, such long, long ones, and all of a sudden it flares up. And the skin on the cheeks is tender, the neck is so white, innocent, and the hands are soft, warm. Oh you, damn! And then mom and dad walk around, eavesdrop behind the doors, look at you with such sad, dog-like, devoted eyes. And when you leave - there are some quick kisses behind the doors ... Over tea, a leg under the table seems to accidentally touch you ... Well, that's it. “Dear Nikita Antonych, I have come to you to ask for the hand of your daughter. Believe that this is a holy creature ... "And dad's eyes are already wet, and it's already climbing to kiss ... "Darling! I guessed for a long time ... Well, God forbid ... Just take care of this treasure ... ”And now, after three months, the holy treasure walks in a shabby hood, shoes on bare feet, hair thin, unkempt, in hairpins, with batmen dogging like a cook, breaking down with young officers, lisping, squealing, rolling his eyes. For some reason, she calls her husband Jacques in public. You know, that way in the nose, with a stretch, languidly: "F-a-a-ak." Motovka, actress, slob, greedy. And the eyes are always false, false ... Now everything has passed, subsided, settled down. I am even grateful to this actor in my heart ... Thank God that there were no children ... — Have you forgiven them, grandfather? - Forgive - this is not the right word, Verochka. The first time was like crazy. If I had seen them then, of course, I would have killed them both. And then, little by little, it went away and went away, and there was nothing left but contempt. And good. God spared the shedding of blood. And besides, I escaped the common fate of most men. What would I be if it wasn't for this nasty incident? A pack camel, a disgraceful drinker, a concealer, a cash cow, a screen, some household necessities ... No! Everything is for the best, Verochka. - No, no, grandfather, you still have it, forgive me, says the old insult ... And you transfer your unfortunate experience to all of humanity. Take at least Vasya and me. Can we call our marriage unhappy? Anosov was silent for a long time. Then he drawled reluctantly: — Well, okay... let's say - an exception... But in most cases, why do people get married? Let's take a woman. It's a shame to stay in girls, especially when your friends are already married. It's hard to be an extra mouth in the family. The desire to be a mistress, the head of the house, a lady, independent ... In addition, a need, a direct physical need of motherhood, and to start making a nest. And men have other motives. Firstly, fatigue from a single life, from disorder in the rooms, from tavern dinners, from dirt, cigarette butts, torn and scattered linen, from debts, from unceremonious comrades, and so on and so forth. Secondly, you feel that it is more profitable, healthier and more economical to live with a family. Thirdly, you think: when the kids come, I will die, but a part of me will still remain in the world ... something like the illusion of immortality. Fourth, the seduction of innocence, as in my case. In addition, there are sometimes thoughts about dowry. But where is love? Love disinterested, selfless, not waiting for a reward? The one about which it is said - "strong as death"? You see, such love, for which to accomplish any feat, to give one's life, to go to torment, is not labor at all, but pure joy. Wait, wait, Vera, do you want me again about your Vasya? Really, I love him. He is a good guy. Who knows, maybe the future will show his love in the light of great beauty. But you understand what kind of love I'm talking about. Love must be a tragedy. The greatest secret in the world! No comforts of life, calculations and compromises should concern her. Have you ever seen such love, grandfather? Vera asked quietly. “No,” the old man answered decisively. - I really know two similar cases. But one was dictated by stupidity, and the other ... so ... some kind of acid ... one pity ... If you want, I'll tell you. That's not for long. - Please, grandfather. - Here you go. In one regiment of our division (but not in ours) there was the wife of a regimental commander. Erysipelas, I'll tell you, Verochka, supernatural. Bony, red-haired, long, thin, with a big mouth... Plaster was falling off her like from an old Moscow house. But, you know, a sort of regimental Messalina: temperament, authority, contempt for people, a passion for diversity. Plus, I'm a morphine addict. And then one day, in the fall, they send a newly made ensign, a completely yellow-mouthed sparrow, just from a military school, to their regiment. A month later, this old horse completely mastered him. He is a page, he is a servant, he is a slave, he is her eternal cavalier in dances, wears her fan and scarf, in one uniform he jumps out into the cold to call her horses. It's a terrible thing when a fresh and clean boy puts his first love at the feet of an old, experienced and power-hungry harlot. If he now jumped out unharmed, still consider him dead in the future. This is a stamp for life. By Christmas, she was tired of him. She returned to one of her old, tried passions. But he couldn't. Follows her like a ghost. He was exhausted, emaciated, turned black. Speaking in a high calm - "death already lay on his high brow." He was terribly jealous of her. They say he spent whole nights standing under her windows. And then one spring they arranged some kind of May Day or a picnic in the regiment. I knew her and him personally, but I was not present at this incident. As always in these cases, there was a lot to drink. They returned back at night on foot along the railroad tracks. Suddenly, a freight train comes towards them. It goes very slowly up, along a rather steep ascent. Gives whistles. And now, as soon as the locomotive lights caught up with the company, she suddenly whispers in the ear of the ensign: “You keep saying that you love me. But if I order you, you probably won’t throw yourself under the train. ” And he, without answering a word, ran - and under the train. He, they say, correctly calculated, just between the front and rear wheels: it would have cut him neatly in half. But some idiot decided to hold him back and push him away. Didn't make it. The ensign, as he clung to the rails with his hands, so both of his hands were chopped off. — Oh, what a horror! Vera exclaimed. - The ensign had to leave the service. Comrades collected some money for him to leave. It was inconvenient for him to stay in the city: a living reproach before the eyes of both her and the entire regiment. And a man disappeared... in the meanest way... Became a beggar... froze somewhere on the pier in St. Petersburg. And the other case was quite pathetic. And the same woman was like the first, only young and beautiful. She behaved very, very badly. At what we easily looked at these home novels, but even we were jarred. And the husband is nothing. He knew everything, saw everything and was silent. Friends hinted at him, but he only waved his hands. "Leave it, leave it... It's none of my business, none of my business... Let Lenochka be happy! .." Such an idiot! In the end, she got on well with Lieutenant Vishnyakov, a subaltern from their company. So the three of us lived in a two-man marriage - as if this is the most legal type of marriage. And then our regiment moved to war. Our ladies saw us off, she saw her off too, and, really, it was even ashamed to look: even for decency, she looked once at her husband - no, she hung herself on her lieutenant, like a devil on a dry willow, and does not leave. At parting, when we had already boarded the carriages and the train started moving, so she, after her husband, shamelessly, shouted: “Remember, take care of Volodya! If anything happens to him, I will leave home and never come back. And I'll take the kids." Maybe you think that this captain was some kind of rag? slobber? dragonfly soul? Not at all. He was a brave soldier. Under the Green Mountains, he led his company six times to the Turkish redoubt, and out of two hundred people he had only fourteen left. Wounded twice, he refused to go to the dressing station. Here he was. The soldiers prayed to God for him. But she ordered ... Helen ordered him to! And he looked after this coward and loafer Vishnyakov, this drone without honey, like a nurse, like a mother. On lodging for the night in the rain, in the mud, he wrapped him in his overcoat. Instead of him, I went to sapper work, and he rested up in a dugout or played shtos. At night, he checked guard posts for him. And this, mind you, Verunya, was at a time when bashi-bazouks cut out our pickets as simply as a Yaroslavl woman cuts cabbage stalks in her garden. By God, although it’s a sin to remember, everyone was delighted when they learned that Vishnyakov died in the hospital from typhus ... - Well, and women, grandfather, you met loving women? — Oh, of course, Verochka. I will even say more: I am sure that almost every woman is capable of the highest heroism in love. Understand, she kisses, hugs, gives herself - and she already mother. For her, if she loves, love contains the whole meaning of life - the whole universe! But it is not at all to blame for the fact that people's love has taken such vulgar forms and has descended simply to some kind of everyday convenience, to a little entertainment. The men are to blame, satiated at twenty years old, with chicken bodies and hare souls, incapable of strong desires, heroic deeds, tenderness and adoration before love. They say it has happened before. And if it never happened, then didn’t the best minds and souls of mankind dream about it and yearn for it - poets, novelists, musicians, artists? The other day I was reading the story of Masha Lescaut and the Chevalier de Grie... Would you believe it, I was shedding tears... Well, tell me, my dear, honestly, doesn’t every woman in the depths of her heart dream of such love - one, all-forgiving, on all ready, humble and selfless? “Oh, of course, of course, grandfather ... - And since she is not there, women take revenge. Another thirty years will pass... I won't see it, but maybe you will, Verochka. Mark my word that in thirty years women will occupy unheard of power in the world. They will dress like Indian idols. They will trample us men like contemptible, lowly slaves. Their extravagant whims and whims will become painful laws for us. And all because for generations we have not been able to bow and revere love. It will be revenge. You know the law: the force of action is equal to the force of reaction. After a pause, he suddenly asked: “Tell me, Verochka, if it’s not difficult for you, what is this story with the telegraph operator that Prince Vasily was talking about today?” What is the truth here and what is fiction, according to his custom? Are you interested, grandfather? - As you wish, as you wish, Vera. If for some reason you feel uncomfortable... - No, not at all. I'll be happy to tell. And she told the commandant with all the details about some madman who began to pursue her with his love two years before her marriage. She has never seen him and does not know his last name. He only wrote to her and signed his letters G.S.Zh. Once he mentioned that he was serving in some state institution as a small official - he did not mention a word about the telegraph. Obviously, he constantly followed her, because in his letters he indicated very precisely where she was at the evenings, in what society and how she was dressed. At first, his letters were vulgar and curiously ardent, although they were quite chaste. But one day, Vera wrote in writing (by the way, don’t talk about it, grandfather, about this to ours: none of them knows) asked him not to bother her anymore with his love outpourings. Since then, he kept quiet about love and began to write only occasionally: at Easter, on New Year's Day and on her name day. Princess Vera also spoke about today's parcel and even transmitted almost verbatim the strange letter from her mysterious admirer... "Yes," said the general at last. “Maybe it’s just a crazy guy, a maniac, but who knows? - maybe your life path, Verochka, was crossed by exactly the kind of love that women dream of and that men are no longer capable of. Wait a minute. Do you see the lights ahead? Probably my crew. At the same time, the loud roar of a car was heard from behind, and the road, pitted with wheels, shone with a white acetylene light. Gustav Ivanovich drove up. “Annochka, I took your things. Sit down, he said. “Your Excellency, would you mind taking me?” “No, thank you, my dear,” the general replied. — I do not like this car. Only shivers and stinks, but no joy. Well, goodbye, Verochka. Now I will come often,” he said, kissing Vera’s forehead and hands. Everyone said goodbye. Friesse drove Vera Nikolaevna to the gate of her dacha and, quickly describing a circle, disappeared into the darkness with his roaring and puffing car.