Chapter 15 Part Four 16-18

sixteen When you come back from somewhere else, you often think about what happened while you were away, what special letters and news came, and it turns out that nothing happened, no letters at all.But my situation was different this time.My brother was very embarrassed when he picked me up.First, my father sold Baturino, sent us some money, and wrote us a letter with great sorrow and regret... All of a sudden, I blushed with joy, that is to say, I could go to the went outside.But all of a sudden this feeling turns into pain, because our past lives are all over!I deeply regret my father, my mother and Olia.Here we are happy and carefree; we have spring, people, and cities, while they are secluded and solitary.They used to just miss us, and now they're thinking they're going to have nowhere to go... I could never just sit back and watch my dad grieve and hear him explain his reasons for "let's make a living".At such moments I always flung myself up to kiss his hand, and even thanked him warmly for it.Now, coming back from Sevastopol, I can barely hold back my tears... Fortunately, it seems that he only sold the land, without the estate.

And the second news was even more unexpected.My brother was very embarrassed when he broke the news to me and said, "Forgive me for keeping it a secret, I didn't and still don't want anyone in my family to know about it...the thing is, I'm married... Of course, without religious ceremony she is still with her husband now even for the sake of the child, but you will understand me... Now she is in Kharkov, she is leaving tomorrow... You change your clothes and get together right away Go and see her, she knows you and likes you first..." He told me his story in a hurry.She was born into a luxurious family, but infatuated with fanatical liberty-loving and populist fantasies, she married early so that she could begin to live and fight only for the people "with her dear ones"... the "dear ones" "People" rely on her to become a wealthy figure, and soon give up their previous ambitions.And these aspirations were so sacred and precious to her that she, a lucky person, had been troubled by them since she was a child, felt that she was living a happy life among all the unfortunate people, and even felt that she was beautiful. Ashamed, she tried to disfigure herself, tried to burn her hands with sulfuric acid, because they were always admired by everyone... She met her brother in the South - when he was living anonymously and evasively... She Knowing that she fell in love with him, she threw herself into the sea in despair, but thanks to a few fishermen who rescued her...

I changed my clothes obediently, and listened to my brother's story in great amazement. My heart was very excited, and my eyes looked elsewhere.I don't know why I feel embarrassed for my brother, I am very unhappy, I even feel disgusted with him as a heroine-it's all too romantic.But what surprised me even more was that as soon as I stepped into the luxurious hotel room where she lived, she stood up quickly to greet me, and hugged me tenderly and affectionately. Her smile was so gentle and beautiful, and her voice was so beautiful and sweet. soft!In her whole genial and simple way of dealing with people, she revealed a noble family, a good education, and a good heart, a shy, honest, and generous beauty.Her movements were soft and deliberate, and there was an inexplicable allure in her singing voice, as in her clear gray eyes.Eyes with black lashes, always smiling, but somewhat melancholy...

After all, this unexpected acquaintance, this sudden discovery, caused me great pain, because my brother had a life of his own, which was hidden from us all, and we were not the only ones he was attached to.I felt alone again, and although I was surrounded by the breath of spring and I was very young, I felt very painful and disappointed.But at the same time, it was as if I said to myself, "Okay. This is better for me, I'm completely free now. I can visit this amazing place I just discovered..." I dreamed that this place was endless, It is the wide open fields of the whole southern Ross, all in spring, where things have fascinated and fancied me more and more, both ancient and modern.Today this is a great and fertile region, how beautiful are its fields, steppes, hills, villages, the Dnieper, the city of Kyiv, and its strong yet meek people!They love beauty and neatness in every little thing of daily life, and they are the heirs of the true Slavs, Danubians, Carpathians.In antiquity it was the cradle of these peoples, there were Svyatopolks and Igors, Pisenegs and Polovtsians—these names alone are enough to make me Fascinated.Then came the centuries of Cossack wars with the Turks and Poles, the towns of Poroki and Khorjitsa, the lowlands of Kherson and the forks of the river... The book "Igor's Expedition" really fascinated me .

"Russians, I hope to be sent with you to break my spears at the border of the steppes of Polovts... It is not a storm that sweeps goshawks across a vast field, nor is it a flock of jackdaws rushing to the Great Don... ... When the horses on the other side of the Sula River blew, Kyiv announced the victory; when the horn of Novgorod sounded, the battle flag was flying in Putivr... At this time, Prince Igor stepped on the golden pedal , began to walk in the wilderness. The sun blocked his way with darkness, and the night roared a thunderstorm against him, waking up the birds... The owl called from the top of the tree, commanding the unknown land—Volga, Bomo Riley, Posuley and Surosh...all come and listen."

"In the middle of the night, their carts rumbled like a flock of startled swans. And Igor led the warriors to the Don River... The mountain eagle screamed to call the beast to fetch the bones, the fox guessed Barking at the red shield, . . . O land of Russia! You have fallen beyond the hills . . . " "In the early morning of the next day, the morning glow of blood announced the arrival of dawn. Dark clouds rose from the sea, and blue lightning danced in the clouds. The huge thunder was about to roar, and the heavy rain would flow from Dayun like random arrows. Attack from the other side of the river!"

Later it was: "Li Pengqian, from afar, what is that screaming in my ear, what is that ringing in my ear?" "Sviatoslav had a vague dream in the mountains of Kyiv. 'Tonight, on a yew bed,' said he, 'someone covered me with a black sheet; With blue cups of sorrow...'" "At midnight, the sea was churning, ... God showed Prince Igor the way from the land of Polovts to the golden throne of his father in the land of Russia. The evening glow faded away. Igor fell asleep, Igor Alert, Igor thought of the fields from the Great Don to the Little Donets..."

Before long I was roaming again.I have been to the place where Igorf passed by the banks of the Donets when he escaped from the captive camp, "like an ermine in the reeds, and a white owl on the water."Later I went to the Dnieper River, which happened to be the place where he "cut through the rocky mountains through the field of Polowitz".I took a boat past white, spring-like villages in the endless blue lowlands near the Dnieper, and up to Kyiv.How can I express my feelings about spring and the praise of Igor at that time? "The sun is shining in the sky, and Igor has returned to the land of Russia! The girls are singing on the Danube—their voices swirl and float across the sea to Kyiv..."

I left Kyiv for Kursk, Putivl. "My brother, please prepare your swift horse, but my horse is already saddled in the outskirts of Kursk..." Only after a few years did I feel that Kostroma, Suzdal , Uglich, Rostov the Great, because at that time I was living in another kind of love. "Kursk" used to be just one of the dullest provincial towns, and dusty Ptivr was presumably even duller, but what does it matter?Wasn't that meadow also deserted and dusty when "Yaroslavna's voice" was heard early in the morning on the earthen wall full of stakes? "Early in the morning, Yaroslavna was weeping, and on the ramparts of Ptivr she lamented: 'I would like to fly,' she said, 'like a cuckoo over the Danube, I would like to fly a beaver's sleeve Wet in the Kaya River to wipe the bloody wounds of the Maharaja on his mighty body...'"

seventeen I've come home this way.Now I'm even rushing to get there, because my enthusiasm for the nomadic life is a bit saturated for the time being.I would love to rest and work, and what awaits me in Baturino is an enchanting summer.I had many best hopes, plans, and a lot of faith in destiny.But, as we all know, there is nothing more dangerous than trusting too much in fate... Briefly, I dropped by Orel... Here I feel that my tour is almost over: I'm back in Baturino in a few hours.Now we have to take a look at this city of Orel, Leskov and Turgenev, and finally ask what the editorial offices and printing houses are like.

I feel extra refreshed.However, I was tanned and thin, like a gypsy who often goes to the market.I have walked many walks, and seen many places on the Dnieper, and always on deck, in the sun, the glint of the river, the pleasant heat of the steamer's glowing chimneys, in the sweltering heat of man and machine and kitchen.And there is a very fine, glass-like thing that vibrates and dissolves all day long above the chimney.Therefore, you need to give yourself some comfort, even if it is a little bit.So, as soon as I entered Orel, I ordered to go to one of the best hotels... It was dusk, and the sky was covered with lavender dust.Lights were lit everywhere, and across the river, in the gardens of the city, there was the sound of wind instruments... When you are alone at night in a big strange city, you usually experience some vague, pleasant and agitated feeling, This is completely understandable.It was with similar sentiments that I dined in an empty hall of the hotel where I was staying, an old provincial hotel of great prestige.Later I sat on the iron balcony of my room, under a street lamp burning under a tree.Since the balcony is made of iron, the shade of the trees passing through seems to be metal.Below, people walking to and fro, chatting and laughing, while smoking cigarettes.Opposite, in some large houses, the windows are open, and you can see brightly lit rooms and people sitting drinking tea or doing business--it is an attractive life for others, and at such moments you will be special. To watch this life attentively... Later, in my endless wanderings, I had many moments of solitude and observation of life, to which I owed my uncommonly poignant wit.But, on that warm night in Orel, hearing the military music now and then from the other side of the river—sometimes melodious and languid, sometimes lingering and passionate—I lost all ingenuity... … ————— ① Nikolai Semyonovich Leskov (1831-1895), a Russian writer. I'm not used to sleeping like a human being at all.Even the darkness, the silence, the spaciousness, and the large, comfortable, clean bed in my room surprised me that night.I still woke up just as it was daylight, as I did on the journey.It was not at all time for me to go to the editorial office of Golos. It was hot in the morning.The treeless, white street was still empty.In order to pass the time, so as not to go to the editorial office too early and be rude, I first walked down the street, crossed a bridge, and walked into another busy street with various old warehouses and markets. , small hardware stores, iron shops, chemical grocers, and shops specializing in imported goods, and a large number of large shops that indicated the prosperity that almost crushed the cities of Russia at that time.In response to this abundance and the dense morning sun, the high church bells near Orlik sounded the bells for Mass, deep, solemn, and pleasant.The bell was ringing—the sound shook even my whole body.I crossed another bridge, climbed a hill, and walked to the seat of the government offices, to the buildings of the days of Nicholas and Alexander.In front of the building, there is a long bright square, with trees on the left and right sides, this wide avenue looks very fresh in the morning, covered with lime trees, clear and transparent.I knew the street where the editorial office of "Calls" was located, and I met a passer-by and asked how far it was on that street: "It's over there, not far away," he said to me, and suddenly I felt my heart jump: I'm going to the editorial office soon! However, this editorial office is so simple that it is a bit rustic.There are many gardens connected behind the square, and the quiet, shaded streets are completely submerged inside, and the streets are covered with green grass.In one such street, in a large garden, stood a long gray house, which was the editorial office.I went up and saw a half-open door facing the street, and I held the handle of the doorbell... The doorbell jingled somewhere in the distance, but it had no effect: the house seemed uninhabited Yes, but so was everything around: the stillness, the garden, the lovely bright morning in the Prairie capital... I rang the doorbell again, waited, and finally let me in.The long corridor leads to a deep place.I went there, and saw a large, low hall, very dirty, filled with printing presses, and greasy scraps of paper all over the floor.The printing presses were all running, humming rhythmically, the black lead plates were moving back and forth under the large and small cylinders, the bamboo grids were going up and down evenly, sheets of rather large paper were piled up, the bottom was still white, and the top was white. It is already covered with black letters that are as shiny as caviar.The roar, the clamor of the machines, sometimes mingled with the shouts of the printers and compositors.From time to time the wind blew a strong, aromatic smell of printing presses, which was very pleasant.There was also the smell of new ink, paper, lead, kerosene, and yellow wax, which immediately (and all my life) felt special to me. "Are you looking for the editorial department?" Someone shouted angrily at me amidst the wind and noise. "This is the printing house! Here, take him to the editorial office!" Immediately, a little guy walked up to me from nowhere. He had a round head, and his hair was thick and fluffy, like a leaden gray thorn.He said: "Come here please!" Excited, I hurried to follow him into the aisle, and a minute later I was sitting in a large reception room in the editorial office.The editor was a young woman, well-looking, and of small stature.Later, I drink coffee in a dining room that is exactly like the home.Everyone invited me to eat from time to time, asked questions about this and that, said some words of praise for my poems published in certain monthly magazines in the capital, and asked me to write an article in "Voice"... I blushed and expressed my gratitude , smiling sheepishly, suppressing the almost impulsive joy at this sudden miraculous realization.I took a few biscuits with trembling hands, and they quickly melted sweetly in my mouth... Finally, the hostess stopped suddenly, and after hearing the excited conversation outside the door, she smiled and said: "Here is my sleeping beauty! I will introduce to you two extremely charming creations, my cousin Rika and her girlfriend Shashenka Opolenskaia..." As soon as the words were finished, two young ladies entered the dining room, all dressed in richly embroidered Russian dresses, with colorful necklaces and sashes, with wide sleeves, revealing their plump youthful hands up to the elbows... eighteen Everything that happened to fall upon me was handled with startling flippancy and fanaticism.At first it seemed to me quite happy, carefree, and light-hearted, but what pain and disaster this attitude later caused me, and how much spiritual and physical strength it robbed me of! Why did my choice fall to Rika?Opolenskaya was no worse than her.But Rika came in friendlier than Opolenskaia, gave me a more attentive look, spoke more frankly and vividly... Haven't I always fallen in love with someone so quickly?Of course, I love everything: love the youthful and feminine atmosphere in which I am suddenly in, love the hostess' slippers and these girls' embroidered dresses, love their belts and necklaces, love their plump arms and oval knees, love I loved the big, small, provincial rooms and the windows looking out on the sunny garden, and even the scene where the nurse brought a red-faced, sweaty boy into the dining-room.He looked at me seriously with those blue eyes while my mother kissed him and took off his jacket... By the way, just as the table was being cleared and breakfast was being prepared, it suddenly occurred to the hostess that I was completely I should not have left breakfast any more than I should have left Orel so quickly, so Rika took off my hat, and she sat down at the piano and played "Waltz of the Dogs"... Anyway, I was three I left the editorial office at one o'clock, and I was amazed at how quickly it all went by!I did not know at the time that this passage of time was the beginning of what is called the first symptoms of love, the first symptoms of a senseless but ecstatic pleasure-seeking. . . .