A huge plain. Wide river went around it in a receding semicircle; the steel reflections of the water, occasionally and dimly flickering, indicated its flow. The hill I was on suddenly descended almost vertically; its huge outlines separated, turning black, from the bluish airy void, and right below me, in the corner, educated by cliff and plain, near the river, which in this place stood as a motionless, dark mirror, under the very steep hill - I finally found out where I had gone. This meadow is famous in our neighborhoods under the name Bezhin meadow... Almost no noise was heard around... Only occasionally in close to the river splashes with sudden sonority big fish and the coastal reeds rustled faintly, barely shaken by the oncoming wave... night on Bezhin Meadow - I looked around: the night stood solemnly and royally; the damp freshness of late evening was replaced by midnight dry warmth, and for a long time it lay like a soft canopy on the sleeping fields; There was still a lot of time left until the first babble, until the first rustles and rustles of the morning, until the first dewdrops of dawn. The moon was not in the sky: it rose late at that time. Countless golden stars seemed to flow quietly, twinkling in rivalry, in the direction Milky Way, and, really, looking at them, you seemed to vaguely feel the rapid, non-stop running of the earth...

Strange, sharp, painful cry suddenly rang out twice in a row over the river and, a few moments later, was repeated further... - It’s a heron screaming. The moon has finally risen; I leaned towards the dark edge of the earth; many stars did not immediately notice: it was so small and narrow. This moonless night, it seemed, was still as magnificent as before... But already, until recently, they stood high in the sky; everything around was completely quiet, as everything usually only calms down in the morning: everything was sleeping in a deep, motionless, pre-dawn sleep. There was no longer a strong smell in the air; dampness seemed to be spreading in it again... Not for long summer nights!..the morning was beginning. The dawn had not yet blushed anywhere, but it was already turning white in the east. Everything became visible, although dimly visible, all around. The pale gray sky became lighter, colder, and bluer; the stars blinked with faint light and then disappeared; the earth became damp, the leaves began to sweat, in some places living sounds and voices began to be heard, and the liquid, early breeze had already begun to wander and flutter over the earth. I walked along the smoky river. Before I had gone two miles, it was already pouring all around me across a wide wet meadow, and in front, along green hills, from forest to forest, and behind me along a long dusty road, along sparkling, stained bushes, and along the river, shyly turning blue from under the thinning fog, first scarlet, then red, golden streams of young, hot light poured... Everything moved, woke up, sang, rustled, spoke. Everywhere large drops of dew began to glow like radiant diamonds; towards me, clean and clear, as if also washed by the morning cool, came the sounds of a bell

N.S. AVILOVA

Poetic Central Russian landscape, described in prose and poetry (I. Turgenev and A. Fet)

Turgenev and Fet have texts - prosaic and poetic - that surprisingly coincide in their vision and description of nature. This coincidence, on the one hand, emphasizes the poetic nature of the prose writer Turgenev’s perception of the Central Russian landscape. On the other hand, the coincidence speaks, perhaps, of the kinship of their talents, the kinship of poetic souls. It is interesting that these works also coincide in the time of creation - the 50s of the 19th century.

Here is an excerpt from “Bezhin Meadow” (1851):

I looked around: the night stood solemnly and royally; the damp freshness of late evening was replaced by midnight dry warmth, and for a long time it lay like a soft canopy on the sleeping fields; There was still a lot of time left until the first babble, until the first rustles and rustles of the morning, until the first dewdrops of dawn. The moon was not in the sky: it rose late at that time. Countless stars, it seemed, they all flowed quietly, shimmering in competition, in the direction of the Milky Way, and, really, looking at them, you seemed to vaguely feel the rapid, non-stop running of the Earth.
A strange, sharp, painful cry suddenly rang out twice in a row over the river and a few moments later was repeated further.

Turgenev writes: The night stood solemnly and regal.

A similar landscape, however, describing more early time day, we find in Fet’s poem “Evening” (1855):

Sounded over the clear river,
It rang in a darkened meadow,
Rolled over the silent grove,
It lit up on the other side.

Far away, in the twilight, with bows
The river runs to the west.
Having burned with golden borders,
The clouds fled like smoke.

On the hill it is either damp or hot,
The sighs of the day are in the breath of the night, -
But the lightning is already glowing brightly
Blue and green fire.

Much in this poem correlates with Turgenev’s text: both the river and sighs of the day, and sounds of the night. Only in Turgenev we find a two-part sentence strange, sharp, painful a scream rang out ...over the river, and in Fetov’s poem - impersonal sentences sounded..., rang..., rolled. In another poem by A. Fet, “The Steppe in the Evening” (1854), the Milky Way is also mentioned, and there is another coincidence: cf.: the freshness of late evening was replaced by midnight... warm weather And amidst the warmth it began to blow cool.

The inquisitive gaze has already been deceived by the darkness,
In the midst of the warmth, it began to blow cool.
The moon is clear. Here the stars will look from the sky,
And, like a river, the Milky Way will light up.

For both Turgenev and Fet, the stars (Milky Way) are like a river: The stars seemed to be flowing quietly, twinkling in competition, in the direction of the Milky Way(“Bezhin Meadow”).

...And, like a river, the Milky Way will light up(A. Fet).

Let us note one more coincidence. In Turgenev’s “Bezhin Meadow”: “<...> and, really, looking at them [the stars], you seemed to vaguely feel the rapid, non-stop run of the Earth...". In A. Fet’s poem “On a Haystack...” we read:

The earth is like a vague, silent dream,
She flew away unknown
And I, as the first inhabitant of paradise,
One saw the night in the face.

Dewdrop of dawn. The moon was not in the sky: it rose late at that time. Countless golden stars seemed to flow quietly, twinkling in competition, in the direction of the Milky Way, and, really, looking at them, you seemed to vaguely feel the rapid, non-stop running of the earth...

A strange, sharp, painful cry suddenly rang out twice in a row over the river and, after a few moments, was repeated further...

Kostya shuddered. "What is this?"

“It’s a heron screaming,” Pavel calmly objected.

“A heron,” repeated Kostya... “What is it, Pavlusha, I heard last night,” he added, after a short silence, “you might know...

-What did you hear?

- That's what I heard. I walked from Kamennaya Ridge to Shashkino; and at first he walked through our hazel trees, and then he walked through the meadow - you know, where he died
21it turns out - there’s a booger there
22; you know, it’s still all overgrown with reeds; So I walked past this noise, my brothers, and suddenly from that noise someone moaned, and so pitifully, pitifully: ooh... ooh... ooh! I was so afraid, my brothers: it was late, and my voice was so painful. So, it seems, I would cry myself... What would it be? huh?

“Thieves drowned Akim the forester in this bourgeoisie last summer,” Pavlusha noted, “so maybe his soul is complaining.”

“But even then, my brothers,” Kostya objected, widening his already huge eyes... “I didn’t even know that Akim was drowned in that booze: I wouldn’t have been so scared.”

“And then, they say, there are such tiny frogs,” continued Pavel, “that scream so pitifully.”

- Frogs? Well, no, these are not frogs... what kind of frogs are they... (The heron screamed again over the river.) Eck! - Kostya said involuntarily, - it’s like a goblin is screaming.

“The goblin doesn’t scream, he’s mute,” Ilyusha picked up, “he just claps his hands and cracks...”

– Have you seen him, he’s a devil, or what? – Fedya interrupted him mockingly.

- No, I haven’t seen him, and God forbid I should see him; but others saw it. Just the other day he walked around our little peasant: he drove him, led him through the forest, and all around one clearing... He barely made it home to the light.

- Well, did he see him?

- Saw. He says he’s standing like this, big, big, dark, shrouded, as if behind a tree, you can’t really make him out, as if he’s hiding from the moon, and he looks, looks with his eyes, blinks them, blinks...

- Oh you! - Fedya exclaimed, shuddering slightly and shrugging his shoulders, - pfu!..

- And why did this trash get divorced in the world? – Pavel noted. - I don’t understand, really!

“Don’t scold, look, he’ll hear,” Ilya remarked.

There was silence again.

“Look, look, guys,” he suddenly heard child's voice Vanya, look at God’s stars, the bees are swarming!

He stuck his fresh face out from under the matting, leaned on his fist and slowly raised his large, quiet eyes upward. The eyes of all the boys rose to the sky and did not fall soon.

“What, Vanya,” Fedya said affectionately, “is your sister Anyutka healthy?”

“I’m healthy,” Vanya answered, burring slightly.

- Tell her that she’s coming to us, why doesn’t she come?..

- Don't know.

- You tell her to go.

- I'll tell you.

- Tell her that I will give her a gift.

- Will you give it to me?

- I’ll give it to you too.

Vanya sighed.

- Well, no, I don’t need it. It’s better to give it to her: she’s so kind among us.

And Vanya again laid his head on the ground. Pavel stood up and took the empty cauldron in his hand.

- Where are you going? – Fedya asked him.

- To the river, to scoop up some water: I wanted to drink some water.

The dogs got up and followed him.

- Be careful not to fall into the river! – Ilyusha shouted after him.

- Why did he fall? - said

It was a beautiful July day, one of those days that only happen when the weather has settled for a long time. From the early morning the sky is clear; The morning dawn does not burn with fire: it spreads with a gentle blush. The sun - not fiery, not hot, as during a sultry drought, not dull crimson, as before a storm, but bright and welcomingly radiant - floats up peacefully under a narrow and long cloud, shines freshly and plunges into its purple fog. The upper, thin edge of the stretched cloud will sparkle with snakes; their shine is like the shine of forged silver... But then the playing rays poured out again, and the mighty luminary rose cheerfully and majestically, as if taking off. Around noon there are usually a lot of round high clouds, golden-gray, with delicate white edges. Like islands scattered along an endlessly overflowing river, flowing around them with deeply transparent branches of even blue, they hardly move from their place; further, towards the horizon, they move, crowd together, the blue between them is no longer visible; but they themselves are as azure as the sky: they are all thoroughly imbued with light and warmth. The color of the sky, light, pale lilac, does not change throughout the day and is the same all around; It doesn’t get dark anywhere, the thunderstorm doesn’t thicken; unless here and there bluish stripes stretch from top to bottom: then barely noticeable rain is falling. By evening these clouds disappear; the last of them, blackish and vague, like smoke, lie in pink clouds opposite the setting sun; at the place where it set as calmly as it calmly rose into the sky, a scarlet glow stands for a short time over the darkened earth, and, quietly blinking, like a carefully carried candle, the evening star glows on it. On days like these, the colors are all softened; light, but not bright; everything bears the stamp of some touching meekness. On such days, the heat is sometimes very strong, sometimes even “soaring” along the slopes of the fields; but the wind disperses, pushes apart the accumulated heat, and whirlwind vortices - an undoubted sign of constant weather - walk in tall white columns along the roads through the arable land. In dry and clean air it smells of wormwood, compressed rye, buckwheat; even an hour before night you do not feel damp. The farmer wishes for similar weather for harvesting grain... On just such a day I was once hunting for black grouse in Chernsky district, Tula province. I found and shot quite a lot of game; the filled bag mercilessly cut my shoulder; but the evening dawn was already fading, and in the air, still bright, although no longer illuminated by the rays of the setting sun, cold shadows began to thicken and spread when I finally decided to return to my home. Quick steps I walked through a long “square” of bushes, climbed a hill and, instead of the expected familiar plain with an oak forest to the right and a low white church in the distance, I saw completely different Famous places. Stretched at my feet narrow valley; directly opposite, a dense aspen tree rose like a steep wall. I stopped in bewilderment, looked around... “Hey! — I thought, “Yes, I ended up in the wrong place at all: I took it too far to the right,” and, marveling at my mistake, I quickly went down the hill. I was immediately overcome by an unpleasant, motionless dampness, as if I had entered a cellar; the thick tall grass at the bottom of the valley, all wet, turned white like an even tablecloth; it was somehow creepy to walk on it. I quickly climbed out to the other side and walked, turning to the left, along the aspen tree. The bats were already hovering over its sleeping tops, mysteriously circling and trembling in the vaguely clear sky; A belated hawk flew briskly and straight overhead, hurrying to its nest. “As soon as I get to that corner,” I thought to myself, “there will be a road right here, but I gave a detour a mile away!” I finally reached the corner of the forest, but there was no road there: some unmown, low bushes spread wide in front of me, and behind them, far, far away, a deserted field could be seen. I stopped again. “What kind of parable?.. But where am I?” I began to remember how and where I went during the day... “Eh! Yes, these are Parakhin bushes! - I finally exclaimed, - exactly! That must be the Sindeevskaya Grove... How did I come here? So far?.. Strange! Now we need to take the right again.” I went to the right, through the bushes. Meanwhile the night was approaching and growing as thundercloud; It seemed that, along with the evening vapors, darkness was rising from everywhere and even pouring from above. I came across some kind of unmarked, overgrown path; I walked along it, carefully looking ahead. Everything around quickly turned black and fell silent - only the quails squawked occasionally. A small night bird, silently and low rushing on its soft wings, almost stumbled upon me and timidly dived to the side. I went out to the edge of the bushes and wandered across the field. I was already having difficulty distinguishing distant objects; the field was vaguely white around; behind him, approaching with every moment, gloomy darkness rose in huge clouds. My steps echoed dully in the frozen air. The pale sky began to turn blue again - but it was already the blue of night. The stars flickered and moved on it. What I had taken for a grove turned out to be a dark and round mound. “Where am I?” - I repeated again out loud, stopped for the third time and looked questioningly at my English yellow-piebald dog Dianka, decidedly the smartest of all four-legged creatures. But the smartest of the four-legged creatures only wagged her tail, blinked her tired eyes sadly and did not give me any good advice. I felt ashamed of her, and I desperately rushed forward, as if I had suddenly guessed where I should go, rounded the hillock and found myself in a shallow, plowed-out ravine all around. A strange feeling immediately took possession of me. This hollow had the appearance of an almost regular cauldron with gentle sides; at the bottom of it stood several large white stones standing upright - it seemed that they had crawled there for a secret meeting - and it was so mute and dull in it, the sky hung so flat, so sadly above it that my heart sank. Some animal squeaked weakly and pitifully between the stones. I hurried to get back onto the hill. Until now I still had not lost hope of finding my way home; but then I was finally convinced that I was completely lost, and, no longer trying at all to recognize the surrounding places, which were almost completely drowned in darkness, I walked straight ahead, following the stars - at random... I walked like this for about half an hour, with difficulty moving my legs. It seemed like I had never been in such empty places in my life: no lights flickered anywhere, no sound was heard. One gentle hill gave way to another, fields stretched endlessly after fields, bushes seemed to suddenly rise out of the ground right in front of my nose. I kept walking and was about to lie down somewhere until the morning, when suddenly I found myself over a terrible abyss. I quickly pulled back my raised leg and, through the barely transparent darkness of the night, I saw a huge plain far below me. The wide river went around it in a semicircle leaving me; steel reflections of water, occasionally and dimly flickering, indicated its flow. The hill I was on suddenly descended almost vertically; its huge outlines were separated, turning black, from the bluish airy void, and right below me, in the corner formed by that cliff and plain, near the river, which in this place stood as a motionless, dark mirror, under the very steep of the hill, each other burned and smoked with a red flame there are two lights near the friend. People swarmed around them, shadows wavered, sometimes the front half of a small curly head was brightly illuminated... I finally found out where I had gone. This meadow is famous in our neighborhoods under the name Bezhin meadow... But there was no way to return home, especially at night; my legs gave way beneath me from fatigue. I decided to approach the lights and, in the company of those people whom I took to be the herd workers, wait for dawn. I safely went down, but did not have time to let go of the last branch I had grabbed from my hands, when suddenly two large, white, shaggy dogs rushed at me with an angry bark. Children's clear voices were heard around the lights; two or three boys quickly rose from the ground. I responded to their questioning cries. They ran up to me, immediately called back the dogs, who were especially struck by the appearance of my Dianka, and I approached them. I was mistaken in mistaking the people sitting around those lights for the herd workers. These were simply peasant children from neighboring villages who guarded the herd. In hot weather summer time Our horses are driven out at night to feed in the field: during the day, flies and gadflies would not give them rest. Driving out the herd before the evening and bringing in the herd at dawn is a big holiday for peasant boys. Sitting without hats and in old sheepskin coats on the most lively nags, they rush with a cheerful whoop and scream, dangling their arms and legs, jumping high, laughing loudly. Light dust rises in a yellow column and rushes along the road; A friendly stomp can be heard far away, the horses run with their ears pricked up; in front of everyone, with his tail raised and constantly changing his legs, gallops some red-haired cosmach, with a burdock in his tangled mane. I told the boys that I was lost and sat down with them. They asked me where I was from, remained silent, and stood aside. We talked a little. I lay down under a gnawed bush and began to look around. The picture was wonderful: near the lights, a round reddish reflection trembled and seemed to freeze, resting against the darkness; the flame, flaring up, occasionally threw quick reflections beyond the line of that circle; a thin tongue of light will lick the bare branches of the vine and disappear at once; Sharp, long shadows, rushing in for a moment, in turn reached the very lights: darkness fought with light. Sometimes, when the flame burned weaker and the circle of light narrowed, a horse’s head, bay, with a winding groove, or all white, would suddenly stick out from the approaching darkness, looking at us attentively and stupidly, nimbly chewing long grass, and, lowering itself again, immediately disappeared. You could only hear her continue to chew and snort. From an illuminated place it is difficult to see what is happening in the darkness, and therefore everything up close seemed to be covered with an almost black curtain; but further towards the horizon, hills and forests were vaguely visible in long spots. The dark, clear sky stood solemnly and immensely high above us with all its mysterious splendor. My chest felt sweetly ashamed, inhaling that special, languid and fresh smell - the smell of a Russian summer night. Almost no noise was heard all around... Only occasionally in a nearby river a large fish would splash with sudden sonority and the coastal reeds would rustle faintly, barely shaken by the oncoming wave... Only the lights crackled quietly. The boys sat around them; Sitting right there were the two dogs who so wanted to eat me. For a long time they could not come to terms with my presence and, sleepily squinting and squinting at the fire, occasionally growled with an extraordinary sense of their own dignity; At first they growled, and then squealed slightly, as if regretting the impossibility of fulfilling their desire. There were five boys: Fedya, Pavlusha, Ilyusha, Kostya and Vanya. (From their conversations I learned their names and now intend to introduce them to the reader.) The first, the eldest of all, Fedya, you would give about fourteen years. He was a slender boy, with beautiful and delicate, slightly small features, curly blond hair, light eyes and a constant half-cheerful, half-absent-minded smile. He belonged, by all signs, to rich family and went out into the field not out of necessity, but just for fun. He was wearing a motley cotton shirt with a yellow border; a small new army jacket, worn saddle-back, barely rested on his narrow shoulders; A comb hung from a blue belt. His boots with low tops were just like his boots—not his father’s. The second boy, Pavlusha, had tousled black hair, gray eyes, wide cheekbones, a pale, pockmarked face, a large but regular mouth, a huge head, as they say, the size of a beer kettle, a squat, awkward body. The guy was unprepossessing - needless to say! - but still I liked him: he looked very smart and direct, and there was strength in his voice. He could not flaunt his clothes: they all consisted of a simple, dirty shirt and patched ports. The face of the third, Ilyusha, was rather insignificant: hook-nosed, elongated, blind, it expressed a kind of dull, painful solicitude; his compressed lips did not move, his knitted eyebrows did not move apart - it was as if he was squinting in the fire. His yellow, almost white hair stuck out in sharp braids from under a low felt cap, which he pulled down over his ears every now and then with both hands. He was wearing new bast shoes and onuchi; a thick rope, twisted three times around the waist, carefully tied his neat black scroll. Both he and Pavlusha looked no more than twelve years old. The fourth, Kostya, a boy of about ten, aroused my curiosity with his thoughtful and sad gaze. His whole face was small, thin, freckled, pointed downward, like a squirrel’s: his lips could barely be distinguished; but a strange impression was made by his large, black eyes, shining with a liquid brilliance: they seemed to want to express something, why in the language - in his language according to at least, - there were no words. He was vertically challenged, frail build and dressed rather poorly. The last one, Vanya, I didn’t even notice at first: he was lying on the ground, quietly huddled under the angular matting, and only occasionally stuck his light brown curly head out from under it. This boy was only seven years old. So, I lay under a bush to the side and looked at the boys. A small pot hung over one of the fires; “potatoes” were boiled in it. Pavlusha watched him and, kneeling, poked a sliver of wood into the boiling water. Fedya lay leaning on his elbow and spreading the tails of his overcoat. Ilyusha sat next to Kostya and still squinted intensely. Kostya lowered his head a little and looked somewhere into the distance. Vanya did not move under his matting. I pretended to be asleep. Little by little the boys started talking again. At first they chattered about this and that, about tomorrow's work, about horses; but suddenly Fedya turned to Ilyusha and, as if resuming an interrupted conversation, asked him: - Well, so what, you saw the brownie? “No, I didn’t see him, and you can’t even see him,” Ilyusha answered in a hoarse and weak voice, the sound of which perfectly matched the expression of his face, “but I heard... And I’m not the only one.” -Where is he with you? - asked Pavlusha. - In the old roller. - Do you go to the factory? - Well, let's go. My brother, Avdyushka and I are members of the fox workers. - Look, they're factory-made!.. - Well, how did you hear him? - asked Fedya. - That's how. My brother Avdyushka and I had to do it, and with Fyodor Mikheevsky, and with Ivashka Kosy, and with the other Ivashka, from the Red Hills, and with Ivashka Sukhorukov, and there were other kids there; There were about ten of us guys - like the whole shift; but we had to spend the night in the roller, that is, it’s not that we had to, but Nazarov, the overseer, forbade it; says: “What, they say, do you guys have to trudge home; There’s a lot of work tomorrow, so you guys don’t go home.” So we stayed and lay all together, and Avdyushka began to say, well, guys, how will the brownie come?.. And before he, Avdeyot, had time to speak, suddenly someone came over our heads; but we were lying at the bottom, and he came in at the top, near the wheel. We hear: he walks, the boards under him bend and crack; Now he passed through our heads; the water will suddenly make a noise and noise along the wheel; the wheel will knock, the wheel will start spinning; but the screens at the palace are lowered. We marvel: who raised them, that the water began to flow; however, the wheel turned, turned and remained. He went again to the door at the top and began to go down the stairs, and so he went down as if he was in no hurry; the steps under him even groan... Well, he came up to our door, waited, waited - the door suddenly flew open. We were alarmed, we looked - nothing... Suddenly, lo and behold, the form of one vat began to move, rose, dipped, walked, walked through the air, as if someone was rinsing it, and then fell back into place. Then another vat's hook came off the nail and onto the nail again; then it was as if someone was going to the door and suddenly he started coughing and choking, like some kind of sheep, and so noisily... We all fell in such a heap, crawling under each other... How scared we were about that time! - Look how! - said Pavel. - Why did he cough? - Don't know; maybe from the dampness. Everyone was silent. “What,” asked Fedya, “are the potatoes cooked?” Pavlusha felt them. “No, more cheese... Look, it splashed,” he added, turning his face in the direction of the river, “it must be a pike... And there the star rolled.” “No, I’ll tell you something, brothers,” Kostya spoke in a thin voice, “listen, just the other day, what my dad told me in front of me.” “Well, let’s listen,” Fedya said with a patronizing look. “You know Gavrila, the suburban carpenter, don’t you?”- Well, yes; we know. “Do you know why he’s so gloomy all the time, he’s still silent, do you know?” That's why he's so sad. He went once, my father said, - he went, my brothers, into the forest for his nuts. So he went into the forest to hunt for nuts and got lost; went - God knows where he went. He walked and walked, my brothers - no! can't find the way; and it’s night outside. So he sat down under a tree; “Come on, I’ll wait until morning,” he sat down and dozed off. He fell asleep and suddenly heard someone calling him. He looks - no one. He dozed off again - they called him again. He looks again, looks: and in front of him on a branch the mermaid sits, sways and calls him to her, and she herself is dying of laughter, laughing... And the moon is shining strongly, so strongly, the month is shining clearly - that’s it, my brothers, it is seen. So she calls him, and she’s all very light and white, sitting on a branch, like some kind of little carp or minnow - and then there’s the crucian carp that’s so whitish, silver... Gavrila the carpenter just died, my brothers, and she knows he laughs and keeps calling him to her with his hand. Gavrila stood up and listened to the mermaid, my brothers, yes, you know, the Lord advised him: he laid the cross on himself... And how difficult it was for him to lay the cross, my brothers; he says, his hand is just like stone, it doesn’t move... Oh, you are so, ah!.. That’s how he laid the cross, my brothers, the little mermaid stopped laughing, and suddenly she started crying... She’s crying, my brothers, her eyes she wipes it with her hair, and her hair is as green as your hemp. So Gavrila looked and looked at her, and began to ask her: “Why are you crying, forest potion?” And the mermaid said to him: “If only you had not been baptized,” he says, “man, you should have lived with me in joy until the end of your days; but I cry, I am killed because you were baptized; Yes, I won’t be the only one who will kill myself: you too will kill yourself until the end of your days.” Then she, my brothers, disappeared, and Gavrila immediately understood how he could get out of the forest, that is, get out... But since then he has been walking around sadly. - Eka! - Fedya said after a short silence, - but how can such forest evil spirits spoil a Christian soul - he didn’t listen to her? - Yes, here you go! - said Kostya. “And Gavrila said that her voice was so thin and pitiful, like a toad’s.” “Did your dad tell you this himself?” - Fedya continued. - Myself. I was lying on the floor and heard everything. - Wonderful thing! Why should he be sad?.. And, you know, she liked him and called him. - Yes, I liked it! - Ilyusha picked up. - Of course! She wanted to tickle him, that's what she wanted. This is their business, these mermaids. “But there should be mermaids here too,” Fedya noted. “No,” answered Kostya, “this place is clean and free.” One thing is that the river is close. Everyone fell silent. Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a drawn-out, ringing, almost moaning sound was heard, one of those incomprehensible night sounds that sometimes arise in the midst of deep silence, rise, stand in the air and slowly spread at last, as if dying out. If you listen, it’s as if there’s nothing, but it’s ringing. It seemed as if someone had shouted for a long, long time under the very horizon, someone else seemed to respond to him in the forest with a deep, sharp laugh, and a weak, hissing whistle rushed along the river. The boys looked at each other, shuddered... - The power of the cross is with us! - Ilya whispered. - Oh, you crows! - Pavel shouted, - why are you alarmed? Look, the potatoes are cooked. (Everyone moved closer to the cauldron and began to eat the steaming potatoes; Vanya alone did not move.) What are you doing? - said Pavel. But he did not crawl out from under his mat. The pot was soon all emptied. “Did you guys hear,” Ilyusha began, “what happened to us in Varnavitsy the other day?” - At the dam? - asked Fedya. - Yes, yes, on the dam, on the broken one. This is such an unclean place, so unclean and so deaf. There are all these gullies and ravines all around, and in the ravines all the kazyuli are found. - Well, what happened? tell me... - Here's what happened. Perhaps you don’t know, Fedya, but that’s where the drowned man is buried; but he drowned himself a long time ago, when the pond was still deep; only his grave is still visible, and even that is barely visible: just like a lump... Just the other day the clerk called the huntsman Ermil; says: “Go, Yermil, to the post office.” Yermil always goes to the post office with us; He killed all his dogs: for some reason they don’t live with him, they never did, but he’s a good huntsman, he’s accepted them all. So Yermil went to get the mail, and he was delayed in the city, but on his way back he was already drunk. And the night, and bright night: The moon is shining... So Yermil is driving across the dam: that’s how his road turned out. He’s driving like this, the huntsman Yermil, and he sees: on the grave of a drowned man there is a lamb, white, curly, pretty, pacing. So Yermil thinks: “I’ll take him, why should he disappear like that,” and he got down and took him in his arms... But the lamb is okay. Here Yermil goes to the horse, and the horse stares at him, snores, shakes its head; however, he scolded her, sat on her with the lamb and rode off again: holding the lamb in front of him. He looks at him, and the lamb looks him straight in the eye. He felt terrible, Yermil the huntsman: that, they say, I don’t remember sheep looking into anyone’s eyes like that; however nothing; He began to stroke his fur like that, and said: “Byasha, byasha!” And the ram suddenly bares his teeth, and he too: “Byasha, byasha...” Before the narrator had time to say it the last word, when suddenly both dogs stood up at once, rushed away from the fire with convulsive barking and disappeared into the darkness. All the boys were scared. Vanya jumped out from under his mat. Pavlusha rushed after the dogs screaming. Their barking quickly moved away... The restless running of the alarmed herd was heard. Pavlusha shouted loudly: “Grey! Bug!..” After a few moments the barking stopped; Pavel's voice came from afar... A little more time passed; the boys looked at each other in bewilderment, as if waiting for something to happen... Suddenly the tramp of a galloping horse was heard; She stopped abruptly right next to the fire, and, clutching the mane, Pavlusha quickly jumped off her. Both dogs also jumped into the circle of light and immediately sat down, sticking out their red tongues. - What's there? what's happened? - the boys asked. “Nothing,” Pavel answered, waving his hand at the horse, “the dogs sensed something.” “I thought it was a wolf,” he added in an indifferent voice, breathing quickly through his entire chest. I involuntarily admired Pavlusha. He was very good at that moment. His ugly face, animated by fast driving, glowed with bold prowess and firm determination. Without a twig in his hand, at night, he, without hesitation at all, galloped alone towards the wolf... “What a nice boy!” - I thought, looking at him. - Have you seen them, perhaps, wolves? - asked the coward Kostya. “There are always a lot of them here,” answered Pavel, “but they are restless only in winter.” He took a nap in front of the fire again. Sitting down on the ground, he dropped his hand on the shaggy back of one of the dogs, and for a long time the delighted animal did not turn its head, looking sideways at Pavlusha with grateful pride. Vanya hid under the matting again. “And what fears you told us, Ilyushka,” spoke Fedya, who, as the son of a rich peasant, had to be the lead singer (he himself spoke little, as if afraid of losing his dignity). - Yes, and the dogs here were hard-pressed to bark... But I certainly heard that this place is unclean. - Barnavitsy?.. Of course! what an unclean thing! There, they say, they saw the old master more than once - the late master. They say he walks around in a long-length caftan and groans all this, looking for something on the ground. Grandfather Trofimych met him once: “What, father, Ivan Ivanovich, do you want to look for on earth?” - Did he ask him? - interrupted the amazed Fedya.- Yes, I asked. - Well, well done Trofimych after that... Well, what about that one? “Rip-grass,” he says, “I’m looking for it.” Yes, he says so dully, dully: “tear-grass.” - What do you need, Father Ivan Ivanovich, to break the grass? “It’s pressing, he says, the grave is pressing, Trofimych: I want it, there it is... - Look what! - Fedya noted, - you know, he hasn’t lived long enough. - What a miracle! - said Kostya. “I thought you could only see the dead on Parents’ Saturday.” “You can see the dead at any hour,” Ilyusha picked up with confidence, who, as far as I could notice, knew all the rural beliefs better than others... “But on parent’s Saturday you can see a living person, for whom, that is, in that it's time to die. All you have to do at night is sit on the porch of the church and keep looking at the road. Those who will pass by you on the road, that is, will die that year. Last year, Grandma Ulyana came to the porch. - Well, did she see anyone? - Kostya asked curiously. - Of course. First of all, she sat for a long, long time, didn’t see or hear anyone... only it was as if a dog was barking like that, barking somewhere... Suddenly, she looked: a boy was walking along the path in only a shirt. She caught my eye - Ivashka Fedoseev is coming... - The one who died in the spring? - Fedya interrupted. - The same one. He walks and doesn’t raise his head... But Ulyana recognized him... But then he looks: the woman is walking. She peered, peered - oh, my God! - she walks along the road, Ulyana herself. - Really herself? - asked Fedya.- By God, by myself. “Well, she’s not dead yet, is she?” - Yes, a year has not passed yet. And look at her: what holds her soul. Everyone became quiet again. Pavel threw a handful of dry branches onto the fire. They suddenly turned black in the sudden flame, crackled, began to smoke, and began to warp, lifting up the burnt ends. The reflection of the light struck, shaking impetuously, in all directions, especially upward. Suddenly out of nowhere white dove, - flew straight into this reflection, timidly turned around in one place, bathed in a hot shine, and disappeared, ringing his wings. “You know, he strayed from home,” Pavel remarked. - Now he will fly, as long as he stumbles upon something, and where he pokes, he will spend the night there until dawn. “What, Pavlusha,” said Kostya, “wasn’t this righteous soul flying to heaven?” Pavel threw another handful of branches onto the fire. “Maybe,” he said finally. “Tell me, Pavlusha,” Fedya began, “what, did you also see heavenly foresight in Shalamov?” - How come the sun wasn’t visible? Of course. - Tea, are you scared too? - We're not alone. Our master, Khosha, told us in advance that, they say, you will have a foresight, but when it got dark, he himself, they say, became so afraid that it’s like. And in the yard hut there was a woman cook, so as soon as it got dark, listen, she took and broke all the pots in the oven with a grabber: “Whoever eats now, he says, the end of the world has come.” So the stuff started flowing. And in our village, brother, there were rumors that, they say, white wolves will run across the earth, they will eat people, predatory bird will fly, or they will even see Trishka himself. - What kind of Trishka is this? - asked Kostya. - Do not you know? - Ilyusha picked up with fervor, - well, brother, are you so smart that you don’t know Trishka? Sidney is sitting in your village, that’s for sure Sidney! Trishka - this will be such an amazing person who will come; and he will come when they come last times. And he will be like this amazing person that it would be impossible to take him, and nothing could be done to him: he would be such an amazing person. The peasants, for example, will want to take it; They will come out at him with a club, surround him, but he will avert their eyes - he will avert their eyes so much that they themselves will beat each other. If they put him in prison, for example, he will ask for some water to drink in a ladle: they will bring him a ladle, and he will dive in, and remember what his name was. They’ll put chains on him, and he’ll shake his hands and they’ll fall off him. Well, this Trishka will walk around the villages and towns; and this Trishka, a crafty man, will seduce the Christian people... well, but he will be unable to do anything... He will be such an amazing, crafty man. “Well, yes,” Pavel continued in his leisurely voice, “that’s how it is.” That's what we were waiting for. The old people said that, as soon as the heavenly foresight begins, Trishka will come. This is where the foresight began. All the people poured out into the street, into the field, waiting to see what would happen. And here, you know, the place is prominent and free. They look - suddenly from the settlement with the mountains are coming some man, so sophisticated, such an amazing head... Everyone shouts: “Oh, Trishka is coming! oh, Trishka is coming! - who knows where! Our elder climbed into a ditch; the old woman is stuck in the gateway, screaming obscenities, and she has frightened her yard dog so much that she is off the chain, through the fence, and into the forest; and Kuzka’s father, Dorofeich, jumped into the oats, sat down, and started shouting like a quail: “Maybe, they say, at least the enemy, the murderer, will take pity on the bird.” That’s how everyone was alarmed!.. And this man was our cooper, Vavila: he bought himself a new jug and put an empty jug on his head and put it on. All the boys laughed and fell silent again for a moment, as often happens with people talking in the open air. I looked around: the night stood solemnly and royally; the damp freshness of late evening was replaced by midnight dry warmth, and for a long time it lay like a soft canopy on the sleeping fields; There was still a lot of time left until the first babble, until the first rustles and rustles of the morning, until the first dewdrops of dawn. The moon was not in the sky: it rose late at that time. Countless golden stars seemed to be flowing quietly, twinkling in competition, in the direction of the Milky Way, and, really, looking at them, you seemed to vaguely feel the rapid, non-stop running of the earth... A strange, sharp, painful cry suddenly rang out twice in a row over the river and a few moments later was repeated further... Kostya shuddered. "What is this?" “It’s a heron screaming,” Pavel calmly objected. “A heron,” repeated Kostya... “What is it, Pavlusha, I heard last night,” he added, after a short silence, “maybe you know...”- What did you hear? - That's what I heard. I walked from Kamennaya Ridge to Shashkino; and at first he walked all through our hazel trees, and then he went through the meadow - you know, where he comes out with a hole - there is a buzz there; you know, it’s still overgrown with reeds; So I walked past this noise, my brothers, and suddenly from that noise someone moaned, so pitifully, pitifully: y-y... y-y... oooh! I was so afraid, my brothers: it was late, and my voice was so painful. So, it seems, I would cry myself... What would that be? huh? “Thieves drowned Akim the forester in this bourgeoisie last summer,” Pavlusha noted, “so maybe his soul is complaining.” “But even then, my brothers,” Kostya objected, widening his already huge eyes... “I didn’t even know that Akim was drowned in that booze: I wouldn’t have been so scared.” “And then, they say, there are such tiny frogs,” continued Pavel, “that scream so pitifully.” - Frogs? Well, no, these are not frogs... what kind of frogs are they... (The heron screamed again over the river.) - Eck! - Kostya said involuntarily, - it’s like a goblin is screaming. “The goblin doesn’t scream, he’s mute,” Ilyusha picked up, “he just claps his hands and cracks...” “Have you seen him, he’s a devil, or what?” - Fedya interrupted him mockingly. - No, I haven’t seen him, and God forbid I should see him; but others saw it. Just the other day, he walked around our little peasant: he drove him, led him through the forest, and all around one clearing... He barely made it home to the light. - Well, did he see him? - Saw. He says he’s standing there, big, big, dark, shrouded, as if behind a tree, you can’t see him well, as if he’s hiding from the moon, and he looks, looks with his eyes, blinks them, blinks... - Oh you! - Fedya exclaimed, shuddering slightly and shrugging his shoulders, - pfu!.. - And why did this trash get divorced in the world? - Pavel noted. - I don’t understand, really! “Don’t scold: look, he’ll hear,” remarked Ilya. There was silence again. “Look, look, guys,” Vanya’s childish voice suddenly rang out, “look at God’s stars, the bees are swarming!” He stuck his fresh face out from under the matting, leaned on his fist and slowly raised his large, quiet eyes upward. The eyes of all the boys rose to the sky and did not fall soon. “What, Vanya,” Fedya said affectionately, “is your sister Anyutka healthy?” “I’m healthy,” Vanya answered, burring slightly. - Tell her - why doesn’t she come to us?..- Don't know. - You tell her to go.- I'll tell you. - Tell her that I will give her a gift.- Will you give it to me? - I’ll give it to you too. And Vanya again laid his head on the ground. Pavel stood up and took the empty cauldron in his hand. Vanya sighed. - Well, no, I don’t need it. It’s better to give it to her: she’s so kind among us. The dogs got up and followed him. - Where are you going? - Fedya asked him. - To the river, to scoop up some water: I wanted to drink some water. - Be careful not to fall into the river! - Ilyusha shouted after him. - Why did he fall? - said Fedya, - he will be careful. - Yes, he will be careful. Anything can happen: he will bend down and start scooping up water, and the merman will grab him by the hand and drag him towards him. Then they will say: the little guy fell into the water... And which one fell?.. Look, he climbed into the reeds,” he added, listening. The reeds definitely “rustled” as they moved apart, as we say. “Is it true,” asked Kostya, “that the fool Akulina has gone crazy ever since she was in the water?” - Since then... What is it like now! But they say she was a beauty before. The merman ruined her. You know, I didn’t expect that they would pull her out so soon. Here he is, there at the bottom, and ruined it. in a cage. She doesn’t understand anything, no matter what they say to her, and only occasionally laughs convulsively.) “They say,” continued Kostya, “that’s why Akulina threw herself into the river because her lover deceived her.” - From the same one. - Do you remember Vasya? - Kostya added sadly. - What Vasya? - asked Fedya. “But the one who drowned,” answered Kostya, “in this very river.” What a boy he was! wow, what a boy he was! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, Vasya! And it was as if she sensed, Feklista, that he would die from the water. It used to be that Vasya would go with us, with the kids, to swim in the river in the summer, and she would get all excited. Other women are fine, they walk past with troughs, waddle over, and Feklista will put the trough on the ground and begin to call to him: “Come back, come back, my little light! oh, come back, falcon! And how he drowned, God knows. I played on the bank, and my mother was right there, raking hay; suddenly he hears the sound of someone blowing bubbles in the water - lo and behold, only Vasya’s little hat is floating in the water. After all, since then Feklista has been out of his mind: he will come and lie down in the place where he was drowned; she will lie down, my brothers, and start singing a song - remember, Vasya always sang such a song - so she will sing it, and she cries, cries, bitterly complains to God... “But Pavlusha is coming,” said Fedya. Pavel approached the fire with a full cauldron in his hand. “What, guys,” he began, after a pause, “things are wrong.” - And what? - Kostya asked hastily. - I heard Vasya’s voice. Everyone shuddered. - What are you, what are you? - Kostya stammered. - By God. As soon as I began to bend down to the water, I suddenly heard someone calling me in Vasya’s voice and as if from under the water: “Pavlusha, Pavlusha!” I'm listening to; and he again calls: “Pavlusha, come here.” I walked away. However, he scooped up some water. - Oh, my God! oh my God! - the boys said, crossing themselves. “After all, it was the merman who called you, Pavel,” added Fedya... “And we were just talking about him, about Vasya.” “Oh, this is a bad omen,” Ilyusha said deliberately. - Well, nothing, let go! - Pavel said decisively and sat down again, - you cannot escape your fate. The boys quieted down. It was clear that Paul's words made a deep impression on them. They began to lay down in front of the fire, as if getting ready to sleep. - What is this? - Kostya suddenly asked, raising his head. Pavel listened. - These are the little sandpipers flying and whistling. -Where are they flying? - And where, they say, there is no winter. - Is there really such a land?- Eat. - Far? - Far, far away, beyond the warm seas. Kostya sighed and closed his eyes. More than three hours have already passed since I joined the boys. The moon has finally risen; I didn’t notice it right away: it was so small and narrow. This moonless night seemed to be as magnificent as before... But many stars, which had recently stood high in the sky, were already leaning towards the dark edge of the earth; everything around was completely quiet, as everything usually only calms down in the morning: everything was sleeping in a deep, motionless, pre-dawn sleep. There was no longer such a strong smell in the air; dampness seemed to be spreading in it again... The summer nights were short!.. The boys' conversation faded away along with the lights... The dogs even dozed; the horses, as far as I could discern, in the slightly faltering, weakly pouring light of the stars, also lay with their heads bowed... Sweet oblivion attacked me; it turned into dormancy. A fresh stream ran across my face. I opened my eyes: the morning was beginning. The dawn had not yet blushed anywhere, but it was already turning white in the east. Everything became visible, although dimly visible, all around. The pale gray sky became lighter, colder, and bluer; the stars blinked with faint light and then disappeared; the earth became damp, the leaves began to sweat, in some places living sounds and voices began to be heard, and the liquid, early breeze had already begun to wander and flutter over the earth. My body responded to him with a light, cheerful trembling. I quickly stood up and approached the boys. They all slept like the dead around the smoldering fire; Pavel alone rose halfway and looked at me intently. I nodded my head to him and walked away along the smoking river. Before I had gone two miles, it was already pouring all around me across a wide wet meadow, and in front along the green hills, from forest to forest, and behind me along a long dusty road, along sparkling, stained bushes, and along the river, shyly turning blue from under thinning fog - first scarlet, then red, golden streams of young, hot light poured... Everything moved, woke up, sang, rustled, spoke. Everywhere large drops of dew began to glow like radiant diamonds; The sounds of a bell came towards me, clean and clear, as if also washed by the morning cool, and suddenly a rested herd rushed past me, driven by familiar boys... Unfortunately, I must add that Paul passed away that same year. He did not drown: he was killed by falling from his horse. It's a pity, he was a nice guy!

talking outdoors. Did I take a look? there was business all around: the night stood solemnly and regally; Has the damp freshness of late evening been replaced by midnight? It was dry and warm, and how long could it remain soft? like a canopy on the sleeping fields; How much more time? nothing remained until the first babble, until the first rustles and rustles of the morning, until the first dewdrops of dawn. The moon was not in the sky: it rose late at that time. Demon? the numerous golden stars seemed to be flowing quietly, flickering in competition, in the direction of the Milky Way, and, really, looking at them, you seemed to vaguely feel the rapid, non-stop running of the earth... A strange, sharp, painful cry suddenly rang out twice successively over the river and a few moments later repeated further...

Kostya shuddered: “What is this?”

- “It’s a heron screaming,” he calmly objected.

- “Heron,” Kostya repeated... “What is it, Pavlusha, I heard last night,” he added, after a short silence, “maybe you know...

What did you hear?

- Here's what I heard. Did I come from Kamennaya Grya? dy in Shashkino; did our nuts come first? nickname, and then went into the meadow - you know, where he died 1 it turns out, there’s a boochilo2 there; know? eat, it’s still overgrown with reeds; So I walked past this booger, my brothers, and suddenly, from it, someone was moaning, and so pitifully, lady?

1 Sugi ′ bel - a sharp turn in a ravine. (Note by I.S. Tur? Geneva.)

2 Buchi ′ lo - deep hole with spring water, the remaining village? le flood, which does not dry out even in summer. (Note by I. S. Turgenev.)

lustily: uh? uh... uh? uh... uh? uh! I was so afraid, my brothers: it was late, and my voice was so great. useful. So, it seems, I would cry myself... What would that be? huh?

- In this storm last summer, Akima?les? Nick was drowned by thieves,” Pavlusha noted, “so maybe his soul will complain.”

- But even then, my brothers,” Kostya objected, widening his already huge eyes... “I didn’t even know that Akim was drowned in that booze: I wouldn’t have been so scared.”

- And then, they say, there are such frogs? those,” continued Pavel, “who scream so pitifully.

- Frogs? Well, no, these are not frogs... what kind of frogs are they... (The heron screamed again over the river.) - Eck! - Kostya said involuntarily, - it’s like a goblin is screaming.

- The goblin doesn’t scream, he’s mute,” Ilyusha picked up, “he just claps his hands and cracks...

- Have you seen him, the devil? Or what? - on the? Fedya interrupted him laughingly.

- No, I didn’t see him, and God forbid that I should see him; But

A others have seen. Just the other day he visited us as a little guy? he walked: he drove, led him through the forest, and everything around one clearing... He barely made it home to the light.

- Well, did he see him?

- Saw. He says this one costs a lot, does it hurt? shoi, dark, tangled, as if behind a tree, you can’t make it out well, as if he’s hiding it from the month? He looks and looks and looks with his eyes, blinks them, blinks...

- Oh you! - Fedya exclaimed, shuddering slightly and shrugging his shoulders, - pfu!..

- Why did this trash get divorced in the world? - behind? Pavel noted. - I don’t understand, really!

- Don’t scold: look, he’ll hear,” he noted.

There was silence again.

- Look, look, guys,” Vanya’s childish voice suddenly rang out, “look at God’s stars?” daughters, - that bees are swarming!

He put his fresh face out from under the matting, leaned on his fist and slowly raised his large, quiet eyes upward. Will all the boys raise their eyes? They flew towards the sky and did not descend soon.<...>

Pavel stood up and took the empty cauldron in his hands.

- Where are you going? - Fedya asked him.

- To the river, scoop up some water: do you want some water? moose to drink. The dogs got up and followed him.

- Be careful not to fall into the river! - Ilyusha shouted after him.

- Why should he fall? - said Fedya, - is he a wasp? frets.

- Yes, he'll be careful. Anything can happen: is he going to push it? He begins to draw water, and the waterman grabs him by the hand? Titus will drag you to himself. Then they will say: the little guy fell into the water... And what fell?.. Look, he climbed into the reeds,” he added, listening.

The reeds definitely “rustled” as they moved apart, as we say.

- “Is it true,” Kostya asked, “that Aku? Since then, Lina the fool has gone crazy, as if in water? ever?

- Since then... What is it like now! But they say she was a beauty before. The merman ruined her. You know, I didn’t expect her to be pulled out so soon. Here he is, there at the bottom, and ruined it.

(I myself have met this Akulina more than once. Covered in rags, terribly thin, with a face as black as coal, clouded eyes and eternally bared teeth, she tramples for hours on end in one month?

those somewhere on the road, holding their bony arms tightly to their chest and slowly swaying from foot to foot, like a wild animal in a cage. Is she up to anything? accepts no matter what they say to her, and only occasionally su? laughs dearly.)

- “And they say,” Kostya continued, “that’s why Akulina threw herself into the river because her lover deceived her.”

From the same thing.

- Do you remember Vasya? - Kostya added sadly.

- What Vasya? - asked Fedya.

- But the one who drowned,” answered Kostya, “

V this very river. What a boy he was! and?them, what a boy he was! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, Vasya! And it was as if she sensed, Feklista, that his death would come from the water? children It happened that Vasya would go with us, with the guys, le? If you want to swim in the river, she will be all excited? Xia. Other women are fine, they walk past with troughs, waddle over, and Feklista will put the trough on the ground and begin to call to him: “Come back, come back, my little light! oh, come back, falcon! And how did you drown, Gos? who knows. I played on the bank, and my mother was right there, raking hay; suddenly he hears the sound of someone blowing bubbles in the water - lo and behold, is it only Vasina? The ponka floats on the water. After all, Feklis has been here since then? she is out of her mind: she will come and lie down in the place where he drowned; will he lie down, my brothers, and start singing? ku, - remember, Vasya kept singing such a song, - that’s what she’ll be drawn to, and she’s crying, crying, grief? complains to God...

- “But Pavlusha is coming,” said Fedya. Pavel approached the fire with a full cauldron in

- “What’s wrong, guys,” he began after a pause, “what’s wrong?” but that's the point.

- And what? - Kostya asked hastily.

- What are you, what are you? - Kostya stammered.

- By God. As soon as I began to bend down to the water, I suddenly heard someone calling me in Vasya’s voice and as if from under the water: “Pavlusha, Pavlusha!” Am I serving? shaya; and he again calls: “Pavlusha, come here.” I walked away. However, he scooped up some water.

- Oh, Lord! oh, Lord! - provoc? the boys shouted, crossing themselves.

- After all, it was the merman who called you, Pavel, came? Fedya said... - We were just talking about him, about Vasya.

- “Oh, this is a bad omen,” Ilyusha said deliberately.

- Well, never mind, let me go! - said Pavel decide? rightly and sat down again, - you can’t escape your fate.

The boys quieted down. It was clear that Paul's words made a deep impression on them. They began to lay down in front of the fire, as if getting ready to sleep.

- What is this? - Kostya suddenly asked, raising his head. Pavel listened.

- These are the Easter cakes flying and whistling.

- Where are they going?

- And where, they say, there is no winter.

- Is there really such a land?

Eat.

Far?

- Far, far away, beyond the warm seas.

Kostya sighed and closed his eyes.

More than three hours have already passed since I joined the boys. The moon has finally risen; I didn’t notice it right away: it was so small and narrow. This moonless night seemed to be just as great?

stucco, as before... But have they already leaned towards the dark? to the far edge of the earth there are many stars that recently stood high in the sky; everything around was completely quiet, as everything usually only calms down in the morning: everything was sleeping in a deep, motionless, pre-dawn sleep. There was no longer a strong smell in the air; dampness seemed to be spreading in it again... Not many years? the end of the night!.. Did the boys' conversation fade away along with the fire? mi... The dogs were even dozing; the horses, as far as I could discern in the slightly fading, weakly pouring light of the stars, also lay with their heads bowed... A sweet oblivion attacked me; it turned into dormancy.

A fresh stream ran across my face. I am from? He closed his eyes: the morning was beginning. No blush anywhere yet? It was dawn, but it was already white in the east. Everything became visible, although dimly visible, all around. Pale?gray isn't? it was getting brighter, colder, bluer; did the stars blink? if they were light, they disappeared; the ground became damp, the leaves began to sweat, in some places living sounds began to be heard, th? elk, and the liquid, early breeze had already begun to wander and flutter over the ground. My body answered him: lie down? oh, cheerful trembling. I quickly stood up and approached the boys. Were they all sleeping like dead people around the aphids? burning fire; Pavel alone rose to the floor? us and looked at me intently.

I nodded my head to him and walked home along the smoking river. Before I had gone two miles, it was already pouring down the wide wet water all around me. across the meadow, and in front along the green hills, from forest to forest, and behind along the long dusty road, along sparkling, stained bushes, and along the river, shyly turning blue from under the thinning fog - first scarlet, then red, golden water poured down. currents of young, hot light... Everything moved, woke up, sang, made noise, spoke. Everywhere

Large drops of rho began to glow like radiant diamonds. sy; Coming towards me, clean and clear, as if also washed by the morning cool, were the sounds of ko? There was a bell, and suddenly a rested herd rushed past me, driven by familiar boys...

Unfortunately, I must add that Paul passed away that same year. He did not drown: he was killed by falling from his horse. It's a pity, he was a nice guy!

1. What did you find interesting and relatable in this story?

? 2. Which episodes impressed you the most? nie? How can you explain this?

READING, REFLECTING

1. Which of the boys' stories seems most interesting to you;

2. You may have noticed that there are three narrators. These are Ilyusha, Kostya and Pavlusha. Select all stories from the text; assigned to each of them. Whose story frightened the boys more than others, whose amused? Whose story do you think the author likes better?

3. What a person says always characterizes him in some way. How do you think the three boys differ from each other; the narrator in their attitude towards the environment;

to the one (that is, what aspects of people’s lives and behavior

most interesting for each of them)? Compare manner

storytelling. How is it different for Kostya? at Pavlusha's? at Ilyusha's? Did you pay attention to the intonation of each narrator? Who do you think the guys in MA imitate; nere narration?

4. Compare the boys' portraits. What an artistic detail

V are they emphasized? Try to compare the portrait and

the story of each of the guys. What differences are noticeable?

V their characters, interests, behavior? Which of them is more active?

smart and brave? Who is the dreamer and visionary? Who has a more noticeable gift of poetic imagination? Which of the boys

knows the life of nature better?

5. What actions of Pavlushi aroused the author’s admiration? What character traits are visible in these actions? Why is the story for; ended with the message about the death of Pavlushi?

6. Do you think there is a connection between the boys’ stories and the fact that the author/narrator got lost and almost fell off a cliff? If so, which one?

7. Re-read Turgenev's landscapes again. There are several of them in the story. Depicts a July day from early morning to late evening, night and morning next day. Which children? Whether of these descriptions you could point out tone as a result; What kind of observation does the writer have, his keen attention to what is happening in nature? Find in the descriptions at;

types of comparison, metaphor and personification. What is their role? It seems to you that the author is simply observing and recording; he admires what he noticed, or he admires, worries, pleases; Are you surprised? Do you think opi is present in these; saniah lyrical beginning?

8. What landscape did you like that evoked a response in your soul? Maybe you yourself have ever observed the sunrise, the birth of morning, or some other changes in nature?

SUMMARY OF IMPRESSIONS AND OBSERVATIONS

Do you think there is a connection between the spiritualized about; times boys and general anti-serfdom directed;

the essence of “Notes of a Hunter”?

2. How can I unfold such heterogeneous elements;

beautiful landscapes, portraits of children, their stories, combined in one work? What holds them together, gives the story unity and integrity? Try to explain the compositional appropriateness of any of the named elements of the story.

3. What makes up the image of the narrator in the reader’s mind? At what point in the story is the author right where you are;

expresses his attitude towards the characters and the situation? What tone

Is he narrating? What general mood did he imbue with; is this Turgenev's work?

OUR CREATIVITY

1. Expressive reading. Choose the race you like; a story from one of the boys. What is his intonation? Try to play it in such a way that your listeners will freeze in their tracks;

giving the next word. Practice expressive reading.

Prepare an expressive reading of one of the landscapes -

the one you liked best. A few phrases from not; Learn it by heart.

2. Observation diary. Observe the change in lighting; noticing any object (house walls, trees, thickets, roofs, etc.) during the day - morning, afternoon, evening, evening; measurements. Record your observations as accurately as possible. What

Did you notice anything interesting?

Watch how the tree branches sway in the wind. If the wind is weak or gusty, which branches will sway? Record your observations.

Listen to how the leaves of different trees rustle in the wind; review. Is there a difference in the rustling, rustling of leaves? What words can convey this difference?

Observe the expressions in the eyes and faces of your family, friends, classmates, and teachers. Take a closer look

what expression of the eyes and face is characteristic (that is, most often the case) for a particular person. How it changes

when he speaks, tells or listens, laughs, gray; is it happening? Try to find the exact words to convey it

expression. (A few precise words or one phrase can become the main thing in a literary portrait of a person.)

3. We are writing a story. Using your notes (blanks), according to; try to talk about some incident, meeting, incident; procession. Insert in a suitable place a landscape (at least 2-3 phrases), a portrait of your interlocutor, someone you meet or a servant; tea companion. Make sure your story is

turned out to be interesting. To do this, come up with an entertaining plot (remember its elements? See p. 46). Think it through;

those compositions so that the transition from one part to another is relaxed.

If the essay is successful, read it to your comrades and compare; Please tell me who has it better. If it didn't turn out very well, continue; live your observations, write them down, look for the exact words for

expressions of feelings, moods, write down interesting thoughts and try to write more vividly next time

and entertaining.

Plot and composition of the story

How do you now see the plot of I. Tur’s story? Geneva is not complicated. The hunter spent the whole day in the While searching for game, I got lost in the evening and went out to Bezhin meadow. There I came across boys by the fire, stayed overnight with them and listened to their stories, look after them? approached them. Early morning the children drove the horses to the village, and the narrator went home. This is the plot, that is, the chain of events.

But the composition of the story is much more complicated. Pain? What place in the text is given to landscapes, changes? holes in nature during the day. The story of the mal? chicks begins with their expanded portraits. Behind? Then there are the children's stories, which take the form of a monologue (that is, the speech of one). Each monologue has a different intonation, because the guys have different storytelling styles. With the help of a portrait of the hero and his mo? nologa the author creates an image actor, race? conceals the originality of its appearance, external and internal? early So, the writer singles out Pavlusha among the boys, notes the features of his appearance, depicts? reflects his actions. Between the monologues there is also a dialogue, that is, comments and questions from the listeners. Will I include I. S. Turgenev in the story about the boys? He also gives his comments, observations, and sometimes assessments.

Thus, landscape, portrait, monologue, aw? Tory's remarks are not included in the plot, but are they? are elements (components) of the composition.