Chapter 4 Chapter 02

At that time, that is, a year ago, I was still writing some magazines and small articles, and I was convinced that one day, I would be able to write a good tome.At that time, I was writing a novel; It has been written into the hospital, and it seems that the death is not far away.Since there are not many days to come, why bother to write some memoirs? I can't help thinking about it, and I keep thinking about all the hard times of this last year of my life.I wanted to write it all down, and I'd be damned if I didn't come up with such a job for myself.All these passing impressions, with

Time makes me feel very excited, feel bad, feel pain.If you leave them in the pen, you will feel that they are almost consoling, and you will feel a little at ease; they will not be so absurd as a nightmare.That's what I think.Take writing as an example Well, it does a great job: it reassures, calms, and evokes my eloquent past. ①Bible story: Jehovah told Noah and his family to hide in the ark with all kinds of poultry to avoid the disaster of the flood.Here it is described as noisy, noisy, and chaotic. Habit, turning my memories and painful fantasies into a serious business, a job... Yes, I still have a good idea.Besides, it can leave a legacy to the doctors in the hospital; once autumn goes to winter,

When it comes time to put window frames for the winter, at least this memoir of mine can be used to plaster the windows. But then again, I don't know why, I started this story from the middle.Since everything was to be written out, one had to start from scratch.Well, let's start from scratch.But my autobiography is not too long to write. I am not a local, my place of origin is far away from here, in such and such a province.My parents should be considered good people, but they left me when I was very young, and I was left as an orphan in Nikolai Sergeych Ikhmene Husband grew up.Ikhmenev, a small landowner with a small estate, adopted me out of compassion.He has only one daughter, Natasha, who is three years my junior.She and I are childhood sweethearts, like brothers and sisters.ah, i can

Childhood of love!A person who is already twenty-five years old, still misses you with singing and sighing three times, is dying, and still misses you with joy and gratitude. When you think about it carefully, how stupid it is!At that time, the sun in the sky was so bright Well, it's not this kind of Petersburg-style sun at all. At that time, our two young hearts beat so happily and happily.At that time, looking around, there were fields and forests, instead of looking up like now, it was a pile of difficult things. Dead stone and brick.How beautiful are the gardens and gardens in the village of Vasilyevskoye, which is headed by Nikolai Sergeyitch!Natasha and I used to play in this garden, and outside it was a big wet forest

, because we were young, we lost our way in the forest once... What a beautiful golden age!How sweet it is to experience life for the first time, as it unfolds itself before us for the first time, both mysterious and fascinating.At that time, we felt Well, behind every bush and every big tree, there lives a mysterious elf that we don't know; the world of fairy tales is intertwined with real life; swirling white clouds In a hurry, I grabbed the clumps of bushes growing on the cliffs of our huge valley, and Natasha and I stood by the stream hand in hand, looking at the depths of the valley with fear and curiosity. , waiting for someone to come out and walk up to us

edge, or answer our call from the fog rising from the valley floor, and the nurse's fairy tale will become true, a well-founded fact.Then once, much later, I reminded Natasha and asked her if she remembered, as a child Then, one day, grown-ups brought us a "Children's Book", and we ran at once into the garden and to the pond, where, under a shady old maple tree, there was a picture of our beloved Green benches where we're comfortable After sitting down, I began to read "Alphonse and Dalida" ②--this is a wonderful story.Even now, when I think of this novel, I still feel a strange inner throbbing. A year ago, when I mentioned the beginning of this story to Natasha

Two lines: "The hero of my story, named Alphonse, was born in Portugal, and his father was named Don Lamuel" and so on, I almost cried.I must have looked silly, no wonder Natasha was so ecstatic about me Dale smiled strangely at this move.But she immediately recalled it (this, I still remember), and, to comfort me, she also began to recall the past.She talked eloquently, and couldn't help but sigh.What a night it was; we recall the hours one by one My childhood sweethearts: We talked about me being sent to a boarding school in the provincial capital—Lord, how she cried! -- and about the last time we parted, and I left Vasilyevskoe forever.then,

I have graduated from boarding school and am about to leave for Petersburg to study for university.I was seventeen and she was almost fifteen.Natasha said that I was clumsy, tall and thin at the time, and I couldn't help but laugh when I looked at me like that.When we parted, I called her To the side, I have something very important to tell her; but my mouth has somehow become mute, and I swallowed the words again.She remembers how excited I was.Needless to say, our conversation went poorly.i don't know what to say What, even said.She can't understand it either.I just cried out in pain and just walked away without saying a word.It was a long time before we met again, in Petersburg.This was about two years ago.ikhmenev old

People come here to fight lawsuits, but I have just made my mark in the literary world.