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Ivan Bunin easy. Ivan Bunin: Light breathing

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 cold wind jingles and jingles a porcelain 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 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.

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Ivan Bunin

Easy breath

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 ... No one 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.

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 answered, going up to the table, looking at her clearly and vividly, but without any expression on her face, and sat down as lightly and gracefully as she alone could.

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

Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually clean and large office, which breathed so well on frosty days with the warmth of a brilliant Dutch woman and the freshness of lilies of the valley on 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 boss said meaningfully, secretly starting to get annoyed.

Yes, madame, - Meshcherskaya answered simply, almost cheerfully.

But not a woman either, - the boss said even more significantly, and her matte face turned slightly red. - First of all, - what kind of hairstyle is this? It's a woman's hair!

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

Oh, that's how, you're not to blame! - said the boss. - 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, madam, 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.

Tanka felt cold, and she woke up.

Having freed her hand from the blanket, in which she awkwardly wrapped herself at night, Tanya stretched out, took a deep breath and clenched herself again. But still it was cold. She rolled under the very "head" of the stove and pressed Vaska to it. He opened his eyes and looked as brightly as only healthy children look from sleep. Then he turned on his side and fell silent. Tanya also began to doze off. But in the hut the door banged: the mother, rustling, dragged an armful of straw from the senets

Is it cold, aunt? - asked the wanderer, lying on the horse.

No, - answered Marya, - fog. And the dogs are lying around - without fail to a snowstorm.

She was looking for matches and rattling her tongs. The Stranger lowered his legs from the horse, yawned and put on his shoes. The bluish cold light of morning shone through the windows, a lame drake, waking up, hissed and quacked under the bench. The calf stood up on weak, splayed legs, convulsively stretched out its tail and meowed so stupidly and abruptly that the wanderer laughed and said:

Orphan! Have you lost a cow?

Sold.

And no horse?

Sold.

Tanya opened her eyes.

The sale of the horse especially stuck in her memory "When they were still digging potatoes," on a dry, windy day, her mother spent noon in the field, crying and saying that "a piece does not go down her throat," and Tanka kept looking at her throat, not understanding what's the point.

Then, in a large, strong cart with a high limber, the “Anchichrists” arrived. Both of them looked alike - black, greasy, girded with bonfires. Another one came after them, even blacker, with a stick in his hand, I shouted something loudly, a little later, I led the horse out of the yard and ran with it along the pasture, my father ran after him, and Tanka thought that he had gone to take the horse away, caught up and again led her into the yard. Mother stood on the threshold of the hut and wailed. Looking at her, Vaska also roared at the top of his lungs. Then the "black" again led the horse out of the yard, tied it to the cart and trotted downhill ... And the father did not chase anymore ...

The "Anchichrists", horsemen-philistines, were, indeed, fierce in appearance, especially the last one - Taldykin. He came later, and before him, the first two only knocked down the price. They vied with each other torturing the horse, tore its muzzle, beat it with sticks.

Well, - shouted one, - look here, get money with God!

They’re not mine, take care, you don’t have to take half the price, ”Korney answered evasively.

But what kind of half price is this, if, for example, the mare is more than years old than you and I? Pray to God!

What a waste of time to interpret, ”Korney objected absently.

It was then that Taldykin came, a healthy, fat tradesman with the physiognomy of a pug: shiny, angry black eyes, the shape of his nose, cheekbones - everything about him resembled this dog breed.

What's the noise, but there's no fight? he said, coming in and smiling, if nostril flaring can be called a smile.

He went up to the horse, stopped and was silent for a long time, looking at it indifferently. Then he turned around, casually said to his comrades: "Hurry up, it's time to go, it's raining on the pasture," and went to the gate.

Korney hesitantly called out:

Why didn’t the horse look!

Taldykin stopped.

Not worth a long look, he said.

Come on, let's indulge ...

Taldykin came up and made lazy eyes.

He suddenly struck the horse under the belly, pulled its tail, felt it under the shoulder blades, sniffed its hand and walked away.

Bad? - trying to joke, asked Korney.

Taldykin chuckled:

Longevity?

The horse is not old.

Tek. So, the first head on the shoulders?

Korney was confused.

Taldykin quickly thrust his fist into the corner of the horse's lips, looked, as it were, briefly into its teeth, and, wiping his hand on the floor, asked mockingly and quickly:

So not old? Your grandfather did not go to marry her? .. Well, yes, it will do for us, get eleven yellow ones.

And, without waiting for Korney's answer, he took out the money and took the horse for a turn.

Pray to God and put half a bottle.

What are you, what are you? - Korney was offended - You are without a cross, uncle!

What? - Taldykin exclaimed menacingly, - got fooled? Don't want money? Take it while the fool comes across, take it, they tell you!

But what is this money?

The ones you don't have.

No, it's better not to.

Well, after a certain date you will give it back for seven, you will give it back with pleasure - believe your conscience.

Korney moved away, took an ax and businesslike began to hew a pillow under the cart.

Then they tried the horse in the pasture ... And no matter how cunning Korney was, no matter how he restrained himself, he did not win it back!

When October came and white flakes flickered and fell in the blue-coloured air, bringing in the pasture, lazina and the blockage of the hut, Tanka had to be surprised at her mother every day.

Sometimes, with the onset of winter, true torment began for all the children, arising, on the one hand, from the desire to escape from the hut, run waist-deep in the snow through the meadow and, rolling on their feet along the first blue ice pond, beat him with sticks and listen to how he gurgles, and on the other hand - from the menacing shouts of his mother.

Where are you going? Chicher, cold - and she, nakosya! With the boys to the pond! Now climb on the stove, otherwise look at me, little demon!

Sometimes, with sadness, one had to be content with the fact that a cup with steaming crumbly potatoes and a slice of bread smelling of a crate, heavily salted, was stretched onto the stove. Now the mother did not give bread or potatoes at all in the mornings, she answered requests for this:

Go, I'll dress you, go to the pond, baby!

Last winter, Tanka and even Vaska went to bed late and could safely enjoy sitting on the “group” of the stove until midnight. Steamed, thick air stood in the hut; on the table a lamp without a glass was burning, and the soot reached the very ceiling in a dark, quivering wick. Father was sitting near the table and sewing sheepskin coats; mother mended shirts or knitted mittens; her bowed face was at that time meekly and affectionately in a quiet voice, she sang the “old” songs that she heard as a girl, and Tanka often wanted to cry from them. In the dark hut, veiled in snowstorms, Marya recalled her youth, recalled hot hayfields and evening dawns, when she walked in the girlish crowd along the field road with ringing songs, and behind the rumbles the sun went down and golden dust poured through the ears of its burning reflection. She told her daughter in song that she would have the same dawns, that everything that passes so quickly and for a long time will be replaced by village grief and care for a long time.

When her mother was getting ready for dinner, Tanka, in one long shirt, jumped off the stove and, often pawing her bare feet, ran to the horse, to the table. Here she, like an animal, squatted down and quickly caught lard in a thick stew and ate cucumbers and potatoes. Fat Vaska ate slowly and goggled his eyes, trying to put a large spoon into his mouth ... After dinner, with a tight stomach, she just as quickly ran across to the stove, fought over a place with Vaska, and when one frosty night turbidity looked through the dark windows, she fell asleep with a sweet dream under the mother’s prayerful whisper: “God’s saints, the merciful Saint Mykola, the pillar-protection of people, Mother Blessed Friday - pray to God for us! Cross in the heads, cross at the feet, cross from the evil one” ...

Now the mother put her to bed early, said that there was nothing to have supper, and threatened to "gouge out her eyes", "give them to the blind in a bag" if she, Tanya, did not sleep. Tanka often roared and asked for "at least cabbages," while the calm, mocking Vaska lay, tore his legs up and scolded his mother:

Here's a brownie, - he said seriously, - all sleep and sleep! Let daddy wait!

Dad left from Kazanskaya, was at home only once, said that there was “trouble” everywhere - they don’t sew sheepskin coats, they die more, and he only repairs here and there with rich peasants. True, at that time they ate herring, and even "such and such a piece" of salted pike perch, dad brought in a rag. “On kstins, he says, he was on the third day, so he hid it for you guys ...” But when dad left, they almost stopped eating ...

Illustration by O. G. Vereisky

Story exposition - description of the grave main character. What follows is a summary of her history. Olya Meshcherskaya is a prosperous, capable and playful schoolgirl, indifferent to the instructions of the class lady. At the age of fifteen, she was a recognized beauty, had the most admirers, danced the best at balls and ran on skates. There were rumors that one of the high school students in love with her attempted suicide because of her windiness.

In the last winter of her life, Olya Meshcherskaya "went completely crazy with fun." Her behavior makes the boss make another remark, reproaching her, among other things, for dressing and behaving not like a girl, but like a woman. At this point, Meshcherskaya interrupts her with a calm message that she is a woman and the friend and neighbor of her father, brother of the boss, Alexei Mikhailovich Malyutin, is to blame for this.

A month after this conversation, an ugly Cossack officer shot Meshcherskaya on the station platform among a large crowd of people. He announced to the bailiff that Meshcherskaya was close to him and swore to be his wife. On this day, escorting him to the station, she said that she had never loved him, and offered to read a page from her diary, which described how Malyutin had seduced her.

It followed from the diary that this happened when Malyutin came to visit the Meshcherskys and found Olya alone at home. Describes her attempts to occupy the guest, their walk in the garden; Malyutin's comparison of them with Faust and Margarita. After tea, she pretended to be unwell, and lay down on the couch, and Malyutin moved to her, first kissed her hand, then kissed her on the lips. Further, Meshcherskaya wrote that after what happened next, she feels such disgust for Malyutin that she is unable to survive it.

The action ends at the cemetery, where every Sunday her cool lady comes to the grave of Olya Meshcherskaya, who lives in an illusory world that replaces reality for her. The subject of her previous fantasies was her brother, a poor and unremarkable ensign, whose future seemed to her brilliant. After the death of her brother, Olya Meshcherskaya takes his place in her mind. She goes to her grave every holiday, does not take her eyes off the oak cross for hours, recalls her pale face in the coffin among the flowers and once overheard words that Olya spoke to her beloved friend. She read in one book what beauty a woman should have - black eyes, black eyelashes, longer than an ordinary arm, but the main thing is light breathing, and she (Oli) has it: “... you listen to how I I sigh, is it true?

The story "Light Breath" Bunin wrote in 1916. In the work, the author touches upon the themes of love and death, characteristic of the literature of this period. Despite the fact that the story is not written in chapters, the narrative is fragmentary and consists of several parts arranged in non-chronological order.

Main characters

Olya Meshcherskaya- a young schoolgirl, was killed by a Cossack officer, because she said that she did not love him.

Head of the gymnasium

Other characters

Cossack officer- shot Olya because of unhappy love, "ugly and plebeian appearance."

Cool lady Olya Meshcherskaya

“In the cemetery, over a fresh earthen mound, there is a new cross made of oak.” A convex porcelain medallion with a photographic portrait of the schoolgirl Olya Meshcherskaya "with joyful, amazingly lively eyes" is embedded in the cross.

As a girl, Olya did not stand out among other gymnasium students, she was "capable, but playful and very careless to the instructions" of the class lady. But then the girl began to develop, "bloom". At the age of 14, “with her thin waist and slender legs, her breasts and forms were already well outlined. "At fifteen, she was already known as a beauty." Unlike her stiff girlfriends, Olya "was not afraid - no ink stains on her fingers, no flushed face, no disheveled hair." Without any effort, "grace, elegance, dexterity, a clear gleam of eyes" came to her.

Olya was the best dancer at balls, she ran on skates, she was looked after the most at balls, and she was most loved by the younger classes. “Imperceptibly she became a girl,” and there was even talk about her windiness.

“Olya Meshcherskaya went completely crazy with fun during her last winter, as they said in the gymnasium.” Once, at a big break, the boss called the girl to her and reprimanded her. The woman noted that Olya is no longer a girl, but not yet a woman, so she should not wear a “female hairstyle”, expensive combs and shoes. “Without losing simplicity and calmness,” Meshcherskaya replied that madame was mistaken: she was already a woman, and the father’s friend and neighbor, brother of the boss, Alexei Mikhailovich Malyutin, was to blame for this - “it happened last summer in the village.”

"And a month after this conversation," a Cossack officer shot Olya "on the platform of the station, among a large crowd of people." And Olya's confession, which stunned the boss, was confirmed. “The officer told the judicial investigator that Meshcherskaya lured him, was close to him, swore to be his wife,” and at the station she said that she did not love him and “gave him to read that page of the diary that spoke about Malyutin.”

“On the tenth of July last year,” Olya wrote in her diary: “Everyone left for the city, I was left alone.<…>Alexey Mikhailovich arrived.<…>He stayed because it was raining.<…>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.<…>He is fifty-six years old, but he is still very handsome and always well dressed.<…>We sat at tea on the glass veranda, he smoked, then moved over to me, again began to say some courtesies, then looked at and kissed 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! .. ”

Every Sunday, after mass, a little woman in mourning comes to the grave of Olya Meshcherskaya - the cool lady of the girl. Olya became the subject of "her relentless thoughts and feelings". Sitting at the grave, the woman recalls the pale face of the girl in the coffin and the conversation she accidentally overheard: Meshcherskaya told her friend about what she had read in her father's book, that supposedly the main thing in a woman is “light breathing” and that she, Olya, has it.

“Now that light breath has been scattered again in the world, in this cloudy sky, in this cold spring wind.”

Conclusion

In the story, Bunin contrasts the main character Olya Meshcherskaya with the head of the gymnasium - as the personification of the rules, social norms, and a cool lady - as the personification of dreams that replace reality. Olya Meshcherskaya is a completely different female image- a girl who has tried on the role of an adult lady, a seductress, who has neither fear of the rules nor excessive daydreaming.