Ivan Bunin. Easy breath. Easy breath

This story allows us to conclude that it belongs to the novel genre. The author managed to convey in a short form the life story of the schoolgirl Olya Meshcherskaya, but not only her. According to the definition of the genre, a short story in a unique, small, concrete event should recreate the whole life of the hero, and through it - the life of society. Ivan Alekseevich, through modernism, creates a unique image of a girl who is still dreaming of true love.

Not only Bunin wrote about this feeling ("Easy breathing"). The analysis of love was carried out, perhaps, by all the great poets and writers, very different in character and worldview, therefore, many shades of this feeling are presented in Russian literature. Opening the work of another author, we always find something new. Bunin also has his own. In his works, there are often tragic endings, ending with the death of one of the heroes, but it is rather bright than deeply tragic. We come across a similar ending after reading Easy Breath.

First impression

At first glance, the events seem messy. The girl plays love with an ugly officer, far from the circle to which the heroine belonged. In the story, the author uses the so-called method of "proof from the return", because even with such vulgar external events, love remains something untouched and bright, does not touch everyday dirt. Arriving at Olya's grave, the class teacher asks herself how to combine all this with a clear look at "that terrible thing" that is now associated with the name of the schoolgirl. This question does not require an answer, which is present in the entire text of the work. They are permeated through Bunin's story "Easy breathing".

The character of the main character

Olya Meshcherskaya seems to be the embodiment of youth, thirsty for love, a lively and dreamy heroine. Her image, contrary to the laws public morality, captivates almost everyone, even junior classes. And even the guardian of morals, teacher Olya, who condemned her for early growing up, after the death of the heroine comes to the cemetery to her grave every week, constantly thinks about her and at the same time even feels "like all people devoted to a dream", happy.

character trait main character the story is that she longs for happiness and can find it even in such an ugly reality in which she had to find herself. Bunin uses "light breathing" as a metaphor for naturalness, vital energy. the so-called "lightness of breath" is invariably present in Olya, surrounding her with a special halo. People feel this and therefore are drawn to the girl, while not even being able to explain why. She infects everyone with her joy.

contrasts

Bunin's work "Light Breath" is built on contrasts. From the very first lines, a double feeling arises: a deserted, sad cemetery, a cold wind, a gray April day. And against this background - a portrait of a schoolgirl with lively, joyful eyes - a photograph on the cross. Olya's whole life is also built on contrast. A cloudless childhood is contrasted with the tragic events that took place in Last year the life of the heroine of the story "Easy breathing". Ivan Bunin often emphasizes the contrast, the gap between the real and the apparent, internal state and the outside world.

Storyline

The plot of the work is quite simple. The happy young schoolgirl Olya Meshcherskaya first becomes the prey of her father's friend, an elderly voluptuary, after which she becomes a living target for the aforementioned officer. Her death inspires a classy lady - a lonely woman - to "serve" her memory. However, the apparent simplicity of this plot is violated by a striking contrast: a heavy cross and lively, joyful eyes, which involuntarily makes the reader's heart shrink. The simplicity of the plot turned out to be deceptive, since the story "Light Breath" (Ivan Bunin) is not only about the fate of a girl, but also about the unfortunate fate of a classy lady who is used to living someone else's life. Olya's relationship with the officer is also interesting.

Relationship with an officer

The already mentioned officer, according to the plot of the story, kills Olya Meshcherskaya, involuntarily misled by her game. He did this because he was close to her, believed that she loved him, and could not survive the destruction of this illusion. Not every person can evoke such a strong passion in another. This speaks of Olya's bright personality, says Bunin ("Easy breathing"). The act of the main character was cruel, but, as you might guess, having a special character, she intoxicated the officer unintentionally. Olya Meshcherskaya was looking for a dream in a relationship with him, but she could not find it.

Is Olya to blame?

Ivan Alekseevich believed that birth is not the beginning, and therefore death is not the end of the existence of the soul, the symbol of which is the definition used by Bunin - "light breathing". Its analysis in the text of the work allows us to conclude that this concept is souls. She does not disappear without a trace after death, but returns to the source. About this, and not only about the fate of Olya, the work "Light Breath".

It is not by chance that Ivan Bunin drags out the explanation of the causes of the death of the heroine. The question arises: "Maybe she is to blame for what happened?" After all, she is frivolous, flirting now with the high school student Shenshin, then, albeit unconsciously, with her father's friend Alexei Mikhailovich Malyutin, who seduced her, then for some reason promises the officer to marry him. Why did she need all this? Bunin ("Easy breathing") analyzes the motives of the heroine's actions. Gradually it becomes clear that Olya is beautiful, like an element. And just as immoral. She strives in everything to reach the depth, to the limit, to the innermost essence, and the opinion of others is not interested in the heroine of the work "Easy Breath". Ivan Bunin wanted to tell us that in the actions of the schoolgirl there is neither a sense of revenge, nor a meaningful vice, nor firmness of decisions, nor the pain of repentance. It turns out that the feeling of fullness of life can be fatal. Tragic (like a classy lady) even unconscious longing for her. Therefore, every step, every detail of Olya's life threatens with disaster: prank and curiosity can lead to serious consequences, to violence, and a frivolous game with other people's feelings can lead to murder. To such philosophical thought Bunin brings us down.

"Light breath" of life

The essence of the heroine is that she lives, and not just plays a role in the play. This is also her fault. To be alive without observing the rules of the game means to be doomed. The environment in which Meshcherskaya exists is completely devoid of a holistic, organic sense of beauty. Life is subordinate here strict rules, the violation of which leads to inevitable retribution. Therefore, the fate of Olya turns out to be tragic. Her death is natural, Bunin believes. "Easy breathing", however, did not die with the heroine, but dissolved in the air, filling it with itself. In the finale, the thought of the immortality of the soul sounds like this.

The question of the meaning of life is eternal, in the literature of the early twentieth century, the discussion of this topic also continued. Now the meaning was seen not in achieving some clear goal, but in something else. For example, according to the theory of "living life", the value human existence in himself, no matter what that life is like. This idea was shared by V. Veresaev, A. Kuprin, I. Shmelev, B. Zaitsev. " living life”I. Bunin also reflected in his writings, his “Light Breath” is a vivid example.

However, the reason for creating the story was not life at all: Bunin conceived the short story while walking around the cemetery. Seeing a cross with a portrait of a young woman, the writer was struck by how her cheerfulness contrasts with the surrounding sad environment. What was life like? Why did she, so alive and joyful, leave this world so early? Nobody could answer these questions. But Bunin's imagination drew the life of this girl, who became the heroine of the short story "Light Breath".

The plot is outwardly unpretentious: the cheerful and developed beyond her years Olya Meshcherskaya arouses a burning interest in the opposite sex with her female attractiveness, her behavior irritates the head of the gymnasium, who decides to conduct an instructive conversation for the pupil about how important modesty is. But this conversation ended unexpectedly: the girl said that she was no longer a girl, she became a woman after meeting the brother of the boss and friend of Father Malyutin. It soon turned out that this was not the only love story: Olya met with a Cossack officer. Last planned quick wedding. However, at the station, before her lover left for Novocherkassk, Meshcherskaya said that their relationship was insignificant for her and she would not marry. Then she suggested reading diary entry about your fall. The military man shot the windy girl, and it is with the description of her grave that the short story begins. A cool lady often goes to the cemetery, the fate of the student has become a meaning for her.

Themes

The main themes of the novel are the value of life, beauty and simplicity. The author himself interpreted his story as a story about the highest degree of simplicity in a woman: "naivety and lightness in everything, both in audacity and in death." Olya lived without limiting herself to rules and principles, including moral ones. It was in this simple-heartedness, reaching the level of depravity, that the charm of the heroine lay. She lived as she lived, true to the theory of "living life": why restrain yourself if life is so beautiful? So she sincerely rejoiced at her attractiveness, not caring about neatness and decorum. She also had fun courting young people, not taking their feelings seriously (the schoolboy Shenshin was on the verge of suicide because of his love for her).

Bunin also touched upon the theme of the meaninglessness and dullness of being in the form of a teacher Olya. This “old girl” is contrasted with her student: the only pleasure for her is a suitable illusory idea: “At first, her brother, a poor and unremarkable ensign, was such an invention - she connected her whole soul with him, with his future, which for some reason she looked brilliant. When he was killed near Mukden, she convinced herself that she was an ideological worker. The death of Olya Meshcherskaya captivated her new dream. Now Olya Meshcherskaya is the subject of her relentless thoughts and feelings.

Issues

• The issue of balance between passions and propriety is rather controversially revealed in the short story. The writer clearly sympathizes with Olya, who chooses the first, sings in her "easy breathing" as a synonym for charm and naturalness. In contrast, the heroine is punished for her frivolity, and severely punished - by death. From this follows the problem of freedom: society with its conventions is not ready to give the individual permissiveness even in the intimate sphere. Many people think that this is good, but they are often forced to carefully hide and suppress the hidden desires of their own souls. But to achieve harmony, a compromise is needed between the society and the individual, and not the unconditional primacy of the interests of one of them.
• It is also possible to highlight social aspect in the perspective of the novel: the bleak and dull atmosphere of a provincial town, where anything can happen if no one finds out. There really is nothing else to do in such a place, except to discuss and condemn those who want to break out of the gray routine of being, if only through passion. Social inequality manifests itself between Olya and her last lover (“ugly and plebeian-looking, who had absolutely nothing to do with the circle to which Olya Meshcherskaya belonged”). Obviously, the same class prejudices served as the reason for the refusal.
• The author does not dwell on relations in Olya's family, but judging by the feelings of the heroine and the events in her life, they are far from ideal: “I was so happy that I was alone! In the morning I walked in the garden, in the field, was in the forest, it seemed to me that I was alone in the whole world, and I thought as well as never before in my life. I dined alone, then played for an hour, to the music I had the feeling that I would live without end and be as happy as anyone. Obviously, no one was involved in raising the girl, and her problem lies in abandonment: no one taught her, at least by his own example, how to balance between feelings and reason.

Characteristics of heroes

1. The main and most revealed character of the novel is Olya Meshcherskaya. The author pays great attention to her appearance: the girl is very beautiful, graceful, graceful. But oh inner world little is said, the emphasis is only on windiness and frankness. After reading in a book that the basis female charm- easy breathing, she began to actively develop it both externally and internally. She not only sighs shallowly, but also thinks, fluttering through life like a moth. Moths, circling around the fire, invariably scorch their wings, so the heroine died in her prime.
2. The Cossack officer is a fatal and mysterious hero, nothing is known about him, except for a sharp difference from Olya. How they met, the motives for the murder, the course of their relationship - all this can only be guessed at. Most likely, the officer is a passionate and enthusiastic nature, he fell in love (or believed that he loved), but he was clearly not satisfied with Olya's frivolity. The hero wanted the girl to belong only to him, so he was even ready to take her life.
3. The classy lady unexpectedly appears in the finale, as an element of contrast. She never lived for pleasure, she sets goals for herself, living in a fictional world. She and Olya are two extremes of the problem of balance between duty and desire.

Composition and genre

Genre " Easy breathing"- novella (short plot story), in a small volume, many problems and topics were reflected, a picture of life was drawn different groups society.

The composition of the story deserves special attention. The narrative is sequential, but it is fragmentary. First, we see Olya's grave, then her fate is told, then we return to the present again - a visit to the cemetery by a classy lady. Speaking about the life of the heroine, the author chooses a special focus in the narrative: he describes in detail the conversation with the head of the gymnasium, the seduction of Olya, but her murder, acquaintance with the officer is described in a few words. Bunin concentrates on feelings, sensations, colors, his story is as if written in watercolor, it is filled with airiness and softness, therefore the impartial is described captivatingly.

The meaning of the name

“Light breathing” is the very first component of female charm, according to the creators of the books that Olya’s father has. Ease, turning into frivolity, the girl wanted to learn. And she reached the goal, although she paid the price, but "this light breath again dissipated in the world, in this cloudy sky, in this cold spring wind."

Also, lightness is associated with the style of the novel: the author diligently avoids sharp corners, although he speaks of monumental things: true and far-fetched love, honor and dishonor, illusory and real life. But this work, according to the writer E. Koltonskaya, leaves the impression of "bright gratitude to the Creator for the fact that there is such beauty in the world."

One can treat Bunin in different ways, but his style is full of imagery, beauty of presentation and courage - this is a fact. He talks about everything, even the forbidden, but knows how not to go beyond the brink of vulgarity. That's why this talented writer love to this day.

Easy breath
Ivan Alekseevich Bunin

Easy breath
“A summer evening, a coachman's troika, an endless desert highway ...” You can’t confuse Bunin’s music of prose writing with any other, colors, sounds, smells live in it ... Bunin did not write novels. But he brought the purely Russian genre of the story or short story, which received worldwide recognition, to perfection.

This book includes the most famous novels and stories of the writer: Antonov apples”, “Village”, “Dry Valley”, “Easy breathing”.

Ivan Bunin

Easy breath

In the cemetery, over a fresh earthen mound, there is a new cross made of oak, strong, heavy, smooth.

April, the days are gray; the monuments of the cemetery, spacious, county, are still far away visible through the bare trees, and the cold wind tinkles and tinkles the china wreath at the foot of the cross.

A fairly large, convex porcelain medallion is embedded in the cross itself, and in the medallion is a photographic portrait of a schoolgirl with joyful, amazingly lively eyes.

This is Olya Meshcherskaya.

As a girl, she did not stand out in the crowd of brown gymnasium dresses: what could be said about her, except that she was one of the pretty, rich and happy girls that she is capable, but playful and very careless to the instructions that she is given by a classy lady? Then it began to flourish, to develop by leaps and bounds. At fourteen, with a thin waist and slender legs, her breasts and all those forms were already well outlined, the charm of which the human word had never yet expressed; at fifteen she was already a beauty. How carefully some of her friends combed their hair, how clean they were, how they watched their restrained movements! And she wasn't afraid of anything ink blots on the fingers, no reddened face, no disheveled hair, no knee that had become naked when he fell on the run. Without any of her worries and efforts, and somehow imperceptibly, everything that so distinguished her in the last two years from the whole gymnasium came to her - grace, elegance, dexterity, a clear sparkle in her eyes ... Nobody danced at balls like Olya Meshcherskaya , no one ran on skates like she did, no one was looked after at balls as much as she was, and for some reason no one was loved as much by the lower classes as she was. She imperceptibly became a girl, and her gymnasium fame imperceptibly strengthened, and there were already rumors that she was windy, could not live without admirers, that the schoolboy Shenshin was madly in love with her, that she seemed to love him too, but was so changeable in her treatment of him. that he attempted suicide...

During her last winter, Olya Meshcherskaya went completely crazy with fun, as they said in the gymnasium. The winter was snowy, sunny, frosty, the sun set early behind the high spruce forest of the snowy gymnasium garden, invariably fine, radiant, promising frost and sun tomorrow, a walk on Cathedral Street, a skating rink in the city garden, pink evening, music and this in all directions the crowd sliding on the skating rink, in which Olya Meshcherskaya seemed the most carefree, the happiest. And then one day, at a big break, when she was running like a whirlwind around the assembly hall from the first-graders chasing after her and squealing blissfully, she was unexpectedly called to the headmistress. She stopped in a hurry, took only one deep breath, straightened her hair with a quick and already familiar female movement, pulled the corners of her apron to her shoulders and, beaming her eyes, ran upstairs. The headmistress, youthful but gray-haired, sat calmly with knitting in her hands at desk, under the royal portrait.

“Hello, mademoiselle Meshcherskaya,” she said in French, without looking up from her knitting. “Unfortunately, this is not the first time I have been forced to call you here to speak with you about your behavior.

“I’m listening, madam,” Meshcherskaya replied, going up to the table, looking at her clearly and vividly, but without any expression on her face, and sat down as easily and gracefully as she alone could.

“It will be bad for you to listen to me, I, unfortunately, was convinced of this,” said the headmistress, and, pulling the thread and twisting a ball on the lacquered floor, at which Meshcherskaya looked with curiosity, she raised her eyes. “I won't repeat myself, I won't talk at length,” she said.

Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually clean and large office, which breathed so well in frosty days the warmth of a brilliant dutch and the freshness of lilies of the valley on the desk. She looked at the young king, painted to his full height in the midst of some brilliant hall, at the even parting in the milky, neatly frilled hair of the boss, and was expectantly silent.

“You are no longer a girl,” the headmistress said meaningfully, secretly starting to get annoyed.

“Yes, madam,” Meshcherskaya answered simply, almost cheerfully.

“But not a woman either,” the headmistress said even more significantly, and her matte face flushed slightly. First of all, what is this hairstyle? It's a woman's hairstyle!

“It’s not my fault, madame, that I have good hair,” Meshcherskaya answered, and slightly touched her beautifully trimmed head with both hands.

“Ah, that’s how it is, it’s not your fault! - said the headmistress. “You are not to blame for your hair, you are not to blame for these expensive combs, you are not to blame for ruining your parents for shoes worth twenty rubles!” But, I repeat to you, you completely lose sight of the fact that you are still only a schoolgirl...

And then Meshcherskaya, without losing her simplicity and calmness, suddenly politely interrupted her:

“Excuse me, madame, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And to blame for this - you know who? Friend and neighbor of the pope, and your brother Alexei Mikhailovich Malyutin. It happened last summer in the village...

And a month after this conversation, a Cossack officer, ugly and plebeian in appearance, who had absolutely nothing to do with the circle to which Olya Meshcherskaya belonged, shot her on the station platform, among a large crowd of people who had just arrived with the train. And the incredible confession of Olya Meshcherskaya, which stunned the boss, was completely confirmed: the officer told the judicial investigator that Meshcherskaya had lured him, was close to him, swore to be his wife, and at the station, on the day of the murder, seeing him off to Novocherkassk, she suddenly told him that she and never thought to love him, that all this talk about marriage was just her mockery of him, and gave him to read that page of the diary that spoke about Malyutin.

“I ran through these lines and right there, on the platform where she was walking, waiting for me to finish reading, I shot at her,” said the officer. - This diary is here, look what was written in it on the tenth of July last year.

The following was written in the diary:

“It is now the second hour of the night. I fell asleep soundly, but immediately woke up ... Today I have become a woman! Dad, mom and Tolya, they all left for the city, I was left alone. I was so happy to be alone! In the morning I walked in the garden, in the field, was in the forest, it seemed to me that I was alone in the whole world, and I thought as well as never before in my life. I dined alone, then played for an hour, to the music I had the feeling that I would live without end and be as happy as anyone. Then I fell asleep in my father's office, and at four o'clock Katya woke me up and said that Alexei Mikhailovich had arrived. I was very happy with him, it was so pleasant for me to receive him and occupy him. He arrived on a pair of his vyatki, very beautiful, and they stood at the porch all the time, he stayed because it was raining, and he wanted it to dry out by evening. He regretted that he did not find dad, was very animated and behaved like a gentleman with me, he joked a lot that he had been in love with me for a long time. When we were walking in the garden before tea, the weather was lovely again, the sun shone through the whole wet garden, although it became quite cold, and he led me by the arm and said that he was Faust with Marguerite. He is fifty-six years old, but he is still very handsome and always well dressed - the only thing I did not like was that he arrived in a lionfish - he smells of English cologne, and his eyes are very young, black, and his beard is elegantly divided into two long parts and completely silver. We were sitting at tea on the glass veranda, I felt as if I was unwell and lay down on the couch, and he smoked, then moved to me, began again to say some courtesies, then to examine and kiss my hand. I covered my face with a silk handkerchief, and he kissed me several times on the lips through the handkerchief ... I don’t understand how this could happen, I went crazy, I never thought that I was like that! Now there is only one way out for me ... I feel such disgust for him that I can’t survive this! .. ”

During these April days, the city became clean, dry, its stones turned white, and it is easy and pleasant to walk on them. Every Sunday after mass, a little woman in mourning, wearing black kid gloves, and carrying an ebony umbrella, walks down Cathedral Street, which leads out of the city. She crosses along the highway a dirty square, where there are many smoky forges and fresh field air blows; further, between monastery and a prison, the cloudy slope of the sky turns white and the spring field turns gray, and then, when you make your way among the puddles under the wall of the monastery and turn to the left, you will see, as it were, a large low garden, surrounded by a white fence, above the gate of which the Dormition is written Mother of God. The little woman makes a small cross and habitually walks along the main avenue. Having reached the bench opposite the oak cross, she sits in the wind and in the spring cold for an hour or two, until her feet in light boots and her hand in a narrow husky are completely cold. Listening to the spring birds singing sweetly even in the cold, listening to the sound of the wind in a porcelain wreath, she sometimes thinks that she would give half her life if only this dead wreath were not in front of her eyes. This wreath, this mound, this oak cross! Is it possible that under him is the one whose eyes shine so immortally from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross, and how to combine with this pure look that terrible thing that is now connected with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya? But in the depths of her soul, the little woman is happy, like all people devoted to some passionate dream.

This woman is a cool lady Olya Meshcherskaya, a middle-aged girl who has long been living in some kind of fiction that replaces her real life. At first, her brother, a poor and unremarkable ensign, was such an invention - she united her whole soul with him, with his future, which for some reason seemed brilliant to her. When he was killed near Mukden, she convinced herself that she was an ideological worker. The death of Olya Meshcherskaya captivated her with a new dream. Now Olya Meshcherskaya is the subject of her relentless thoughts and feelings. She goes to her grave every holiday, keeps her eyes on the oak cross for hours, remembers the pale face of Olya Meshcherskaya in the coffin, among the flowers - and what she once overheard: once at a big break, walking in the gymnasium garden, Olya Meshcherskaya quickly, quickly she said to her beloved friend, plump, tall Subbotina:

- I read in one of my father's books - he has a lot of old, funny books - what beauty a woman should have ... There, you know, so much is said that you can’t remember everything: well, of course, black eyes boiling with tar - by golly , and it is written: boiling with pitch! - black as night, eyelashes, gently playing a blush, a thin figure, longer than an ordinary arm, - you know, longer than usual! - a small leg, moderately large breasts, correctly rounded calves, shell-colored knees, sloping shoulders - I almost learned a lot by heart, so all this is true! But the main thing, you know what? Easy breath! But I have it, - you listen to how I sigh, - is it true, is it?

Now that light breath has dissipated again in the world, in that cloudy sky, in that cold spring wind.

Current page: 1 (total book has 1 pages)

Ivan Bunin
Easy breath

In the cemetery, over a fresh earthen mound, there is a new cross made of oak, strong, heavy, smooth.

April, the days are gray; the monuments of the cemetery, spacious, county, are still far away visible through the bare trees, and the cold wind tinkles and tinkles the china wreath at the foot of the cross.

A fairly large, convex porcelain medallion is embedded in the cross itself, and in the medallion is a photographic portrait of a schoolgirl with joyful, amazingly lively eyes.

This is Olya Meshcherskaya.

As a girl, she did not stand out in the crowd of brown gymnasium dresses: what could be said about her, except that she was one of the pretty, rich and happy girls, that she was capable, but playful and very careless about the instructions that the class lady gives her ? Then it began to flourish, to develop by leaps and bounds. At fourteen, with a thin waist and slender legs, her breasts and all those forms were already well outlined, the charm of which the human word had never yet expressed; at fifteen she was already a beauty. How carefully some of her friends combed their hair, how clean they were, how they watched their restrained movements! And she was not afraid of anything - not ink spots on her fingers, not a flushed face, not disheveled hair, not a knee that became naked when she fell on the run. Without any of her worries and efforts, and somehow imperceptibly, everything that so distinguished her in the last two years from the whole gymnasium came to her - grace, elegance, dexterity, a clear sparkle in her eyes ... Nobody danced at balls like Olya Meshcherskaya , no one ran on skates like she did, no one was looked after at balls as much as she was, and for some reason no one was loved as much by the lower classes as she was. She imperceptibly became a girl, and her gymnasium fame imperceptibly strengthened, and there were already rumors that she was windy, could not live without admirers, that the schoolboy Shenshin was madly in love with her, that she seemed to love him too, but was so changeable in her treatment of him. that he attempted suicide...

During her last winter, Olya Meshcherskaya went completely crazy with fun, as they said in the gymnasium. The winter was snowy, sunny, frosty, the sun set early behind the high spruce forest of the snowy gymnasium garden, invariably fine, radiant, promising frost and sun tomorrow, a walk on Cathedral Street, a skating rink in the city garden, pink evening, music and this in all directions the crowd sliding on the skating rink, in which Olya Meshcherskaya seemed the most carefree, the happiest. And then one day, at a big break, when she was running like a whirlwind around the assembly hall from the first-graders chasing after her and squealing blissfully, she was unexpectedly called to the headmistress. She stopped in a hurry, took only one deep breath, straightened her hair with a quick and already familiar female movement, pulled the corners of her apron to her shoulders and, beaming her eyes, ran upstairs. The headmistress, youthful but gray-haired, sat calmly with knitting in her hands at the desk, under the royal portrait.

“Hello, mademoiselle Meshcherskaya,” she said in French, without looking up from her knitting. “Unfortunately, this is not the first time I have been forced to call you here to speak with you about your behavior.

“I’m listening, madam,” Meshcherskaya replied, going up to the table, looking at her clearly and vividly, but without any expression on her face, and sat down as easily and gracefully as she alone could.

“It will be bad for you to listen to me, I, unfortunately, was convinced of this,” said the headmistress, and, pulling the thread and twisting a ball on the lacquered floor, at which Meshcherskaya looked with curiosity, she raised her eyes. “I won't repeat myself, I won't talk at length,” she said.

Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually clean and large office, which on frosty days breathed so well with the warmth of a brilliant Dutch and the freshness of lilies of the valley on the desk. She looked at the young king, painted to his full height in the midst of some brilliant hall, at the even parting in the milky, neatly frilled hair of the boss, and was expectantly silent.

“You are no longer a girl,” the headmistress said meaningfully, secretly starting to get annoyed.

“Yes, madam,” Meshcherskaya answered simply, almost cheerfully.

“But not a woman either,” the headmistress said even more significantly, and her matte face flushed slightly. First of all, what is this hairstyle? It's a woman's hairstyle!

“It’s not my fault, madame, that I have good hair,” Meshcherskaya answered, and slightly touched her beautifully trimmed head with both hands.

“Ah, that’s how it is, it’s not your fault! - said the headmistress. “You are not to blame for your hair, you are not to blame for these expensive combs, you are not to blame for ruining your parents for shoes worth twenty rubles!” But, I repeat to you, you completely lose sight of the fact that you are still only a schoolgirl...

And then Meshcherskaya, without losing her simplicity and calmness, suddenly politely interrupted her:

“Excuse me, madame, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And to blame for this - you know who? Friend and neighbor of the pope, and your brother Alexei Mikhailovich Malyutin. It happened last summer in the village...

And a month after this conversation, a Cossack officer, ugly and plebeian in appearance, who had absolutely nothing to do with the circle to which Olya Meshcherskaya belonged, shot her on the station platform, among a large crowd of people who had just arrived with the train. And the incredible confession of Olya Meshcherskaya, which stunned the boss, was completely confirmed: the officer told the judicial investigator that Meshcherskaya had lured him, was close to him, swore to be his wife, and at the station, on the day of the murder, seeing him off to Novocherkassk, she suddenly told him that she and never thought to love him, that all this talk about marriage was just her mockery of him, and gave him to read that page of the diary that spoke about Malyutin.

“I ran through these lines and right there, on the platform where she was walking, waiting for me to finish reading, I shot at her,” said the officer. - This diary is here, look what was written in it on the tenth of July last year.

The following was written in the diary:

“It is now the second hour of the night. I fell asleep soundly, but immediately woke up ... Today I have become a woman! Dad, mom and Tolya, they all left for the city, I was left alone. I was so happy to be alone! In the morning I walked in the garden, in the field, was in the forest, it seemed to me that I was alone in the whole world, and I thought as well as never before in my life. I dined alone, then played for an hour, to the music I had the feeling that I would live without end and be as happy as anyone. Then I fell asleep in my father's office, and at four o'clock Katya woke me up and said that Alexei Mikhailovich had arrived. I was very happy with him, it was so pleasant for me to receive him and occupy him. He arrived on a pair of his vyatki, very beautiful, and they stood at the porch all the time, he stayed because it was raining, and he wanted it to dry out by evening. He regretted that he did not find dad, was very animated and behaved like a gentleman with me, he joked a lot that he had been in love with me for a long time. When we were walking in the garden before tea, the weather was lovely again, the sun shone through the whole wet garden, although it became quite cold, and he led me by the arm and said that he was Faust with Marguerite. He is fifty-six years old, but he is still very handsome and always well dressed - the only thing I did not like was that he arrived in a lionfish - he smells of English cologne, and his eyes are very young, black, and his beard is elegantly divided into two long parts and completely silver. We were sitting at tea on the glass veranda, I felt as if I was unwell and lay down on the couch, and he smoked, then moved to me, began again to say some courtesies, then to examine and kiss my hand. I covered my face with a silk handkerchief, and he kissed me several times on the lips through the handkerchief ... I don’t understand how this could happen, I went crazy, I never thought that I was like that! Now there is only one way out for me ... I feel such disgust for him that I can’t survive this! .. ”

During these April days, the city became clean, dry, its stones turned white, and it is easy and pleasant to walk on them. Every Sunday after mass, a little woman in mourning, wearing black kid gloves, and carrying an ebony umbrella, walks down Cathedral Street, which leads out of the city. She crosses along the highway a dirty square, where there are many smoky forges and fresh field air blows; farther, between the monastery and the prison, the cloudy slope of the sky turns white and the spring field turns gray, and then, when you make your way among the puddles under the wall of the monastery and turn to the left, you will see, as it were, a large low garden, surrounded by a white fence, over the gates of which the Assumption of the Mother of God is written. The little woman makes a small cross and habitually walks along the main avenue. Having reached the bench opposite the oak cross, she sits in the wind and in the spring cold for an hour or two, until her feet in light boots and her hand in a narrow husky are completely cold. Listening to the spring birds singing sweetly even in the cold, listening to the sound of the wind in a porcelain wreath, she sometimes thinks that she would give half her life if only this dead wreath were not in front of her eyes. This wreath, this mound, this oak cross! Is it possible that under him is the one whose eyes shine so immortally from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross, and how to combine with this pure look that terrible thing that is now connected with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya? But in the depths of her soul, the little woman is happy, like all people devoted to some passionate dream.

This woman is a cool lady Olya Meshcherskaya, a middle-aged girl who has long been living in some kind of fiction that replaces her real life. At first, her brother, a poor and unremarkable ensign, was such an invention - she united her whole soul with him, with his future, which for some reason seemed brilliant to her. When he was killed near Mukden, she convinced herself that she was an ideological worker. The death of Olya Meshcherskaya captivated her with a new dream. Now Olya Meshcherskaya is the subject of her relentless thoughts and feelings. She goes to her grave every holiday, keeps her eyes on the oak cross for hours, remembers the pale face of Olya Meshcherskaya in the coffin, among the flowers - and what she once overheard: once at a big break, walking in the gymnasium garden, Olya Meshcherskaya quickly, quickly she said to her beloved friend, plump, tall Subbotina:

- I read in one of my father's books - he has a lot of old, funny books - what beauty a woman should have ... There, you know, so much is said that you can’t remember everything: well, of course, black eyes boiling with tar - by golly , and it is written: boiling with pitch! - black as night, eyelashes, gently playing a blush, a thin figure, longer than an ordinary arm, - you know, longer than usual! - a small leg, moderately large breasts, correctly rounded calves, shell-colored knees, sloping shoulders - I almost learned a lot by heart, so all this is true! But the main thing, you know what? Easy breath! But I have it, - you listen to how I sigh, - is it true, is it?

Now that light breath has dissipated again in the world, in that cloudy sky, in that cold spring wind.

In the cemetery, over a fresh earthen embankment, there is a new cross made of oak, strong, heavy, smooth.

April, the days are gray; the monuments of the cemetery, spacious, county, are still far away visible through the bare trees, and the cold wind tinkles and tinkles the china wreath at the foot of the cross.

A fairly large, convex porcelain medallion is embedded in the cross itself, and in the medallion is a photographic portrait of a schoolgirl with joyful, amazingly lively eyes.

This is Olya Meshcherskaya.

As a girl, she did not stand out in the crowd of brown gymnasium dresses: what could be said about her, except that she was one of the pretty, rich and happy girls, that she was capable, but playful and very careless about the instructions that the class lady gives her ? Then it began to flourish, to develop by leaps and bounds. At fourteen, with a thin waist and slender legs, her breasts and all those forms were already well outlined, the charm of which the human word had never yet expressed; at fifteen she was already a beauty. How carefully some of her friends combed their hair, how clean they were, how they watched their restrained movements! And she was not afraid of anything - neither ink stains on her fingers, nor a flushed face, nor disheveled hair, nor a knee that became naked when she fell on the run. Without any of her worries and efforts, and somehow imperceptibly, everything that distinguished her so much in the last two years from the whole gymnasium came to her - grace, elegance, dexterity, a clear sparkle in her eyes ... Nobody danced at balls like Olya Meshcherskaya , no one ran on skates like she did, no one was looked after at balls as much as she was, and for some reason no one was loved as much by the lower classes as she was. She imperceptibly became a girl, and her gymnasium fame imperceptibly strengthened, and there were already rumors that she was windy, could not live without admirers, that the schoolboy Shenshin was madly in love with her, that she seemed to love him too, but was so changeable in her treatment of him. that he attempted suicide.

During her last winter, Olya Meshcherskaya went completely crazy with fun, as they said in the gymnasium. The winter was snowy, sunny, frosty, the sun set early behind the high spruce forest of the snowy gymnasium garden, invariably fine, radiant, promising frost and sun tomorrow, a walk on Cathedral Street, a skating rink in the city garden, pink evening, music and this in all directions the crowd sliding on the skating rink, in which Olya Meshcherskaya seemed the most carefree, the happiest. And then one day, at a big break, when she was running like a whirlwind around the assembly hall from the first-graders chasing after her and squealing blissfully, she was unexpectedly called to the headmistress. She stopped in a hurry, took only one deep breath, straightened her hair with a quick and already familiar female movement, pulled the corners of her apron to her shoulders and, beaming her eyes, ran upstairs. The headmistress, youthful but gray-haired, sat calmly with knitting in her hands at the desk, under the royal portrait.