Bunin I.A. Easy breath

Tanka became cold, and she woke up.

After freeing the hand from the sponge, in which she embarrassedly wrapped around at night, Tanka stretched out, took a deep breath and squeezed again. But still it was cold. She rushed under the "head" of the furnace and pressed the Vaska to her. He opened his eyes and looked so light, as healthy children look from sleep. Then turned on the side and quiet. Tanka also began to rip off. But the door knocked in the hollow: Mother, Rusha, dragged out of the Senets of straw

Cold, aunt? - asked the wanderer, lying on the conic.

No, "Marya replied, - fog. And the dogs are lying, - just to blizzards.

She was looking for matches and thundered by grasp. Wanderer lowered his legs from the conic, yawned and shoved. In the windows, a bluish creened Cold Light of the morning, under the bench Skeid and riddled by a woken chrome spleen. The calf rose to the weak spread legs, convulsively pulled out the tail and so stupid and broke off, that the wanderer laughed and said:

Sword! Cow driven?

Sold.

And no horses?

Sold.

Tanka revealed his eyes.

Horse sale especially crashed into her memory "when they dug out the kartokhi, in a dry, windy day, mother on the field heard, cried and said that she didn't go to her throat, and Tanka looked at her throat, not understanding about what is fat.

Then the "Anchirists" came in a high strong cart with a high front, they were similar to each other - black, shed, ridicated in the Koradans. For them came another one, more than Bernother, with a stick in his hand, I shouted loudly, I shouted a little bit, I brought a horse from the court and ran with her for the pasture, my father ran to him, and Tanka thought he had jogged to take a horse, caught up and again hung it into the courtyard. Mother stood on the verge of hut and said. Looking at her, it was roaring in all the throat and Vaska. Then the "black" again brought the horse from the courtyard, tied her to the cart and drove drove under the mountain ... And the father was no longer sore ...

"Anchirists", horses-mothers, and the truth, fierce on appearance, especially the last - Taldykin. He came later, and before him, the first first only the price was shot down. They were trying tortured by the horse, they drew her face, beat sticks.

Well, one shouted, "see here, get money with God!

Not mine they are whiskers, you do not have to take half, "the roots answered evasively.

Yes, what is it half a half, if, for example, the kobylenika more than us with you? Pray to God!

What is in vain to interpret, - absently objected the roots.

It was here that Taldykin came, a healthy, thick trainer with a pug physiognomy: brilliant, evil black eyes, a nose shape, cheekbones, - everything reminded this dog's breed in it.

What kind of noise, but there are no fights? - He said, entering and smiling, unless you can call the smile to inflate the nostrils.

He approached the horse, stopped and was even indifferent for a long time, looking at her. Then turned, carelessly told his comrades: "Sorehouse, time, I'm on the pasture," and went to the goal.

The roots irrevocably called:

What did the horse looked!

Taldikin stopped.

It is not worth a long look, "he said.

Yes, you look, we bite ...

Taldikin approached and made lazy eyes.

He suddenly hit the horse under the belly, pulled her behind the tail, felt under the blades, sniffed his hand and moved away.

Bad? - Trying to joke, asked the roots.

Taldykin chuckled:

Long-length

The horse is not old.

Tek. So the first head on the shoulders?

The roots were embarrassed.

Taldikin quickly stuck his fist into the corner of the horse's lips, looked like a glimpse of her in his teeth and, wiping his hand on the floor, mockingly and patter asked:

So not old? Your grandfather did not go to get married on her? .. Well, let us come down, get eleven yellow.

And, without waiting for the reply of the root, took out money and took the horse for sneaking.

Pray to God and put the Polbutilochki.

What are you, what are you? - offended roots - you are without a cross, uncle!

What? - exclaimed Taldykin Grozno, - Obaled? Do you wish money? Take, while the fool comes across, take, tell you!

Yes, what is this money?

Such which you do not have.

No, it's better not.

Well, after some of the seven you will give, you will be happy to give, - Believe conscience.

Roots departed, took the ax and with business species Became a pillow under the cart.

Then they tried the horse on the pasture ... And no matter how I chitril the roots, no matter how restrained, did not disgust!

When October came and in the outside of the cold, the air was blocked, whipped white flakes, entered the pasture, Lazina and Zavallenka huts, Tanka every day had to be surprised at the mother.

It happened, with the beginning of winter for all the children, true torments began, shattered, on the one hand, from the desire to flush out of the hut, run on the belt in the snow through the meadow and, rushing on the legs on the first blue ice Pond, beat him with sticks and listen to how he is hulkaet, and on the other hand - from the formidable mothers.

Where are you going? Chicher, cold - and she, Nosia! With boys on the pond! Now I climb on the oven, and then look at me, the demonmeno!

It happened, with sadness I had to be content with the fact that a cup with smoking crumbly potatoes was stretched on the furnace and a chunk of a smelling curtain, cool salted bread. Now the mother did not give a bread at all in the morning, no potatoes, they answered about this:

Go, I'm dealing with you, go on the pond, baby!

Last winter Tanka and even Vaska went to bed late and could calmly enjoy the seat on the "group" of the stove at least until midnight. In the hollow stood on a roof, thick air; On the table there was a light bulb without glass, and soot with dark, trembling phytyl reached to the ceiling itself. Near the table was sat father and sewed a fur coat; Mother cleaned his shirt or knitting mittens; She's oblique face was at that time, she silently sang "old" songs, which heard in the greatness, and Tanka often wanted to cry from them. In the dark hut, the wounded snow blizzards, I was remembered by her youth, I remembered hot hay and evening zori, when she was in the maiden crowd the wilderness of the road with a ringing songs, and the sun was lowered behind the rzhami and the gold dust looked through the grinding. She told her daughter that she would have the same dawns, everything would be going on so soon and for a long time, the rustic grief and care would be replaced for a long time.

When the mother was collecting dinner, Tanka in one long shirt was reddown from the furnace and, often sorting out with bare feet, fled to the konics, to the table. Here she, as a whirlproof, squatted and quickly caught in a thick chowder Salz and bored with cucumbers and potatoes. Thick Vaska eating slowly and shook his eyes, trying to stick a big spoon in his mouth ... After dinner, she with a tight belly also quickly moved to the oven, fought because of the scene with Vaska and, when one frosty night torch watched in dark rubs, fell asleep Under the prayer whisper of the mother: "The children of God, the saint of Micoma, a merciful, pillar-cooling of people, Mother of the Most Holy Friday - the pray of God for us! Holt in the heads, huts in the legs, huts from the evil" ...

Now the mother started to sleep early, said that there was nothing to dinner, and threatened the "eyes to whipped", "blind in the bag", if she, tank, will not sleep. Tanka was often roared and asked for a "even cabbage", and a calm, mocking Vaska lay, Dral legs up and scolded Mother:

Here is the house, - he said seriously, - all sleep and sleep! Give Bati away!

The bai left with Kazan, was only at home, he said that everywhere "trouble," - the serpents are not sewn, they remember more, - and he only revenge in some places in some rich men. True, the villages ate at that time, and even the "such a piece" of Salted Sudak Katya brought in a rag. "In Kstina, he said, was the third day, so you guys hid ..." But when the Bath left, almost there are almost no longer ...

Ivan Bunin

Easy breath

On the cemetery, over fresh clay embankment is a new cross from oak, strong, heavy, smooth.

April, gray days; Monuments of the cemetery, spacious, county, are still far away through bare trees, and the cold wind rises and rings a porcelain wreath at the foot of the cross.

In the very same cross, the cross is pretty large, a convex porcelain medallion, and in the medallion - a photographic portrait of a gymnasium with joyful, strikingly alive eyes.

This is Olya Meshcherskaya.

The girl she did not stand out in the crowd of brown gymnasic dresses: what could be said about her, except that she was from the number of pretty, rich and happy girls, that she is capable, but playful and very careless to those instructions that she makes her cool lady ? Then she began to flourish, not developing by day, but by the hour. At fourteen, she has thin waist and slender legs, breasts were already well different and all those forms whose charm has never expressed the human word; In fifteen she was already heard by beauty. How carefully combed some of her friends, as was chopped, as they watched their restrained movements! And she was not afraid of anything - neither ink spots on the fingers, neither the painted face, no disheveled hair, nor the knee-driving on the knee. Without her worries and effort and somehow imperceptibly came to her all that it was so distinguished by her in the past two years from the entire gymnasium, - grace, elegacity, dexterity, clear eye glitter ... Nobody danced so on the bala like Olya Meshcherskaya Nobody ran so on the skates, as she, at whom they did not care for the balls, as much as he was behind her, and for some reason no one had loved so younger classes as her. She became unnoticed by her girl, and her gymnasic glory was imperceptibly strengthened, and she had already taken any senses that she was windy, he could not live without fans that the Shenshin gymnasist was inseractlessly in love with her, as if she would love him, but so a change in handling him that he attempted suicide ...

Olya Meshcherskaya, the last winter, was completely crazy from fun, as they said in the gymnasium. Winter was snowy, sunny, frosty, early Sun designed the sun for the high spruce of a snowy gymnasium garden, invariably, the radiant, promising and tomorrow frost and sun, walking on the cathedral street, skating rink in the city garden, pink evening, music and this in all sides The crowd sliding on the rink, in which Olya Meshcherskaya seemed the most carefree, the most happy. And once, on a big change, when she was swirl on the national team from the first-graders he driving and blissfully called her, it was unexpectedly called to the boss. She stopped with a scatter, he made only one deep breath, quickly and already familiar female movement recovered her hair, jerked the corners of the apron to the shoulders and, shining her eyes, ran upstairs. The boss, two-way, but gray, calmly sat with knitting in his hands at the desk, under the royal portrait.

"Hello, Mademoiselle Meshcherskaya," she said in French, without raising her eyes from knitting. - I, unfortunately, is no longer forced to call you here to talk with you about your behavior.

"I listen, Madame," answered Meshcherskaya, coming to the table, looking at her clearly and alive, but without any expression on his face, and sat so easily and gracefully as soon as she knew that one.

"To listen to me, you will be bad, I, unfortunately, was convinced of this," said the boss and, pulling a thread and wrapped on the lacquered floor, the Meshcherskaya looked with curiosity, raised his eyes. "I will not repeat, I will not speak extensively," she said.

Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually pure and large office, so well breathable in frosty days with warm shiny Dutch and the freshness of the valley in the writing desk. She looked at the young king, to the full growth of the written among some brilliant hall, on a smooth sample in dairy, neatly corrugated hair, the boss and expectantly silent.

"You are no longer a girl," the boss said meaningfully, in secretly starting annoying.

- Yes, Madame, - Simply, Meshcherskaya answered almost fun.

"But not a woman," the boss said even more significant, and her matte face was slightly excited. - First of all, what is this hairstyle? This is a female hairstyle!

"I'm not guilty, Madame that I have good hair," Meshcherskaya replied and slightly touched her beautiful head her hands.

- Oh, that's how you are not to blame! - said the boss. - You are not guilty in the hairstyle, not to blame for these expensive ridges, is not to blame that we ruin our parents on twenty rubles! But, I repeat to you, you absolutely overlook that you are only a gymnasics ...

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

- Sorry, Madame, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And to blame for this - you know who? Friend and neighbor Pope, and your brother Alexey Mikhailovich Malyutin. It happened last summer in the village ...

And a month later, after this conversation, the Cossack officer, an ugly and plebeian species, who had nothing to do with that circle to which Olya Meshcherskaya was shot on the platform of the station, among the big crowd of the people, just arriving with the train. And the incredible, who stunned the boss, the recognition of Oli Meshcherskaya was completely confirmed: the officer stated his judicial investigator that the Meshcheck was set up, he was close to him, swore to be his wife, and at the station, on the day of the murder, speaking him in Novocherkassk, suddenly told him that she And I didn't think to love him that all these conversations about marriage were one of her mockery over him, and let him read the diary page, where it was said about Malyutin.

"I ran these lines and immediately, on the platform, where she walked, waiting until I finish reading, fired into her," said the officer. - This diary is this, take a look that it was written in it in the tenth of July last year.

The following was written in the diary:

"Now for the second hour of the night. I fastened hard, but immediately woke up ... now I became a woman! Dad, Mom and Tolya, everyone went to the city, I was alone. I was so happy that alone! I walked in the garden in the morning, in the field, it was in the forest, it seemed to me that I was one in the whole world, and I thought so good as never in my life. I lunch alone, then over hour He played, I had such a feeling for music that I would live without end and I would be so happy as no one. Then he fell asleep from dad in the office, and at four o'clock I woke me up, said Alexey Mikhailovich. I was very happy with him, I was so nice to take it and take it. He arrived at the pair of his Vyatok, very beautiful, and they all the time stood at the porch, he was left, because it was raining, and he wanted to dry in the evening. He regretted that he did not find dad, was very animated and kept himself with a cavalier, he joked a lot that he had long been in love with me. When we walked before tea in the garden, there was again charming weather, the sun glistened through the whole wet garden, although it became very cold, and he led me at hand and said that he was Faust with Margarita. He is fifty-six years old, but he is still very beautiful and always dressed - I didn't like it only that he came to the Corycle, - it smells in English cologne, and the eyes are very young, black, and the beard is elegantly divided into two long pieces and completely silver. For tea, we sat on a glass veranda, I felt like unhealthy and lay on the ottoo, and he smoked, then I moved to me, began to say any kind of courtesy again, then consider and kiss my hand. I closed my face with a silk handkerchief, and he kissed me several times on his lips through a handkerchief ... I do not understand how it could happen, I went crazy, I never thought I was like this! Now I am one way out ... I feel such a disgust for him that I can not survive it! .. "

The city for these April days was clean, dry, the stones were coars, and it's easy and pleasant to go. Every Sunday, after the dinner, on the Cathedral Street, leading to the departure from the city, a little woman is sent in Touréra, in black like gloves, with an umbrella of ebony. It goes along the highway dirty area, where many worsted forges and freshly blowing field air; Next, between male monastery And the uncertainty, whites the cloud slope of the sky and sins the spring field, and then, when you worry among the puddle under the wall of the monastery and turn to the left, you will see a big low garden, acquired by a white fence, over the gates of which is written by the mother's audience. The little woman is finely baptized and is familiar to the main alley. Having reached the bench against the oak cross, she sits in the wind and on the spring cold hour, two, until her feet in light shoes and hand in a narrow skin. Listening to spring birds, sweetly singing and in the cold, listening to the winds of the wind in a porcelain wreath, she sometimes thinks that he would give half every cells, just before her eyes of this dead wreath. This wreath, this hill, Oak Cross! Is it possible that under him, whose eyes are so immortally shine from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross, and how to combine with this clean look, is the terrible, what is connected now with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya? But in the depths of the soul, the little woman is happy, like all the people devoted to some passionate dream.

Easy breath. "In the cemetery, over fresh clay embankments is a new cross from oak, strong, heavy, smooth." In the cold gray April days, monuments of a spacious county cemetery are clearly visible through naked trees. Sad and lonely rings a porcelain wreath at the foot of the Cross. "In the very same cross, the cross is quite large, the convex porcelain medallion, and in the medallion - a photographic portrait of a gymnasium with joyful, strikingly alive eyes. This is Olya Meshcherskaya. "

She did not stand out among his peers, although it was "from among pretty, rich and happy girls." Then he suddenly began to flourish and surprisingly good: "At fourteen, she, with a thin waist and slender legs, the breasts were already well different and all those forms whose charm had never expressed the human word; Fifteen she had already heard the beauty. " Everything was her to Liva and, it seemed, nothing could damage her beauty: neither ink stains on the fingers, nor a painted face, no disheveled hair. Olya Meshcherskaya was best dancing on the balls and rank on skates, for whom they didn't care for anyone, as for her, and no one did not love the younger classes as her. She was told that she was windy and could not live without fans that one of the gymnasists were insanely in love with her, who, because of her volatile handling, she even had a suicide.

"The last winter, Olya Meshcherskaya completely descended from fun, as they said in the gymnasium." Winter was beautiful - snowy, frosty and sunny. Pink evenings were beautiful when the music was sounded and the rolling crowd was having fun on ice, "in which Olya Meshcherskaya seemed the most carefree, the wonderful."

One day, when Olya Meshcherskaya played with first graders to a big change, she was called to the boss of the gymnasium. With a swallowing, she took a deep breath, surprived her hair, wandered her apron and dragging the stairs with shining eyes. "The boss, two-way, but gray, quietly sat with knitting in his hands at the desk, under the royal portrait,"

She began to pronounce Meshcherskaya: does not fit her, the gymnasics, to behave, wear expensive ridges, "shoes are twenty rubles", and finally, what is her hairstyle? This is a female hairstyle! "You're no longer a girl," the boss said meaningfully, "... but not a woman ..." Without losing her simplicity and calm, Meshchersky objected: "Sorry, Madame, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And to blame for this - you know who? Friend and neighbor Pope, and your brother Alexey Mikhailovich Malyutin. It happened last summer in the village ... "

And a month later, after this conversation, the incredible, who stunned the boss was unexpectedly and tragically confirmed. "... A Cossack officer, an ugly and plebeian species who didn't have exactly nothing in common with the circle, to which Olya Meshcherskaya, shot it on the station platform, among the big crowd of the people, who had just arrived with the train." He told the judicial investigator that Meshcherskaya was close to him, swore to be his wife, and at the station, speaking him in Novocherkassk, suddenly told him that he did not think to ever love him that all conversations about marriage were her mockery of him, And gave to read the page of her diary, where it was said about Milyutin.

On the page marked with the tenth of July last year, Meshcherskaya described in detail what happened. That day her parents and brother went to the city, and she was alone in their rustic house. There was a wonderful day. Olya Meshcherskaya walked for a long time in the garden, in the field, was in the forest. She was as good as never in life. She fell asleep in the father's office, and at four o'clock she was woken by the maid and said Alexey Mikhailovich arrived. The girl was very happy his arrival. Despite its fifty-six years, he was "still very beautiful and always well dressed." It smelled from him in English cologne, and the eyes were very young, black. Before tea, they walked around the garden, he kept her at her arm and said that they were like Faust with Margarita. What happened then between her and this older man, another father, was impossible to explain: "I don't understand how it could happen, I went crazy, I never thought I was like this! ... I feel such disgust for him that I can not survive this! .. "

Giving an officer a diary, Olya Meshcherskaya walked along the platform, waiting for him to finish reading. Here and climb her death ...

Every Sunday, after a dinner, a little woman in Tourés goes to the cemetery, similar to the "Low-Low Garden, acquired by a white fence, over the gate of which is written" The Assumption of the Mother of God ". Finely peeling on the go woman goes In the cemetery alley to the bench opposite the Oak Cross over the grave of Meshcherskaya. Here, she sits on the spring wind of an hour or two, while at all the darkness of the birds and the winding of the wind in a porcelain wreath, a little woman sometimes thinks that he would not regret half every cell, just before the eyes of this "Dead Wreath." It's hard to believe it that under the oak cross lies "That, whose eyes so immortally shine from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross, and how to combine with this clean look that is terrible, which is now connected with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya?"

This woman is a cool lady of Olya Meshcherskaya, "An unclear girl who has long been living in a fiction that replaces the actual life." Previously, she believed in the brilliant future of his brother, "no wonderful ensign." After his death under Mukden, the sister began to convince himself, "that she is ideological worker." The death of Oli Meshcherskaya gave her food for new dreams and fantasies. She recalls a challenged mesh conversation with her beloved girlfriend, full, high subbotina. Walking on a large variety of gymnasium garden, Olya Meshcherskaya excitedly retells the description of the perfect female beautySurrected in one of the old books. Much seemed so faithful that she even learned. Among the mandatory qualities of beauties were mentioned: "Black, boiling resin black eyeslike night, eyelashes, gently playing blush, thin mill, longer than an ordinary hand ... Little leg, moderately big breasts, correctly rounded caviar, knee-colored sink, shovels ... But the main thing ... Light breathing! " "But I have it," Olya said the Meshchersk girlfriend, "you listen, as I sigh," because the truth is, there? "

"Now it's easy breathing again scattered in the world, in this cloud Sky, in this cold spring wind. "

On the cemetery, over fresh clay embankment is a new cross from oak, strong, heavy, smooth. April, gray days; Monuments of the cemetery, spacious county, still dah lecto are visible through naked trees, and the cold wind rises a porcelain wreath at the foot of the cross. In the very same, the cross is made quite large, convex porcelain me-distant, and in the medallion, a photographic portrait of a gymnasics with joyful, strikingly alive eyes. This is Olya Meshcherskaya. The girl did not stand out in the crowd of brown gymnasic dresses: what could be said about her, except that it is from the number of pretty, rich and happy girls, that she is capable, but Shalov Liva and very careless to those instructions that do it Cool lady? Then she began to flourish, not developing by day, but by the hour. At fourteen years, she, with a thin waist and slender legs, already Ho-Rosho were outlined and all those forms whose charm was not yet expressed by the human word; Fifteen she had already heard the Kra-Savitsa. How carefully combed some of her girlfriends, as the purests were, as they watched their restrained movements! And she was not afraid of anything - neither ink spots on the fingers, neither the painted face, nor the rash hair, nor patrol in the fall on the knee. Without her care and effort and somehow imperceptibly came to her all that it was so distinguished by her in the past two years from all over the gymnasium, - elegant-in, elegacity, dexterity, clear eye glitter. Nobody danced so on the balas as Olya Meshcherskaya, no one ran up as ice skating, as she, at whom they didn't care on the balls as much as it was, and for some reason, no younger classes like her. She became unnoticed by the girl, and her gymnasic glory was imperceptibly strengthened, and they had already experienced that she was windy, he could not live without fans that the Shenshin gymnasister was inseractlessly in love, which would love him, but so changed in Him, that he was attempted to suicide ... The last winter Olya Meshcherskaya completely went crazy from fun, as they said in the gymnasium. Winter was snowy, sunny, frosty, Ra - but the sun was descended for the high splash of a snowy gymnasium garden, consistently knee, radiant, promising and tomorrow frost and sun, gu-lynie on the Cathedral street, skating rink in the city garden, pink evening, music and music and This in all sides sliding on the rink of the crowd, in which Olya Meshurs-Kaya seemed to be the most carefree, the wonderful. And now, once, on a big change, when she swirl was rushed along the national team from driving, her first-graders who were blissfully called to the boss. She stopped with a scatter, made only one deep sigh, quickly and already familiar female movement recovered the hair, Dur-zero corners of the apron to the shoulders and, shining her eyes, ran upstairs. On-Challnitsa, who Twood, but gray, calmly sat with knitting in his hands at the desk, under the royal portrait. - Hello, Mademoiselle Meshcherskaya, she said in French-ki, without raising her eyes from Khpanka. - I, unfortunately, is no longer forced to call you here to talk to you regarding your behavior. "I listen, Madame," answered Meshcherskaya, coming to the table, looking at her clear and alive, but without any expression on his face, and sat so easily and gracefully as soon as she knew that one. "To listen to me, you will be bad, I, unfortunately, was convinced of this," said the boss and, pulling a thread and wrapped on the lacquered floor, the Meshcherskaya looked with curiosity, raised his eyes. "I will not repeat, I will not speak extensively," she said. Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually pure and big kabi-no, so well breathable in frosty days warm shiny Dutch and the freshness of the valley in the writing desk. She looked at the young Century, to the whole growth of the written among some brilliant hall, on a smooth sample in dairy, neatly corrugated hair, the boss and expectantly silent. "You're no longer a girl," the initiatively said the initial Nitsa, secretly starting annoying. "Yes, Madame," Meshcherskaya answered cheerfully. "But not a woman," the boss said even more significant, and her matte face was slightly excited. - First of all, - what is this hairstyle? This is a female hairstyle! "I'm not guilty, Madame that I have good hair," answered Me-Shcher and slightly touched on both hands his beautifully removed head. - Oh, that's how you are not to blame! - said the boss. - You are not guilty - you are in a hairstyle, not to blame for these expensive ridges, are not to blame that we ruin our parents on twenty rubles! But, I repeat to you, you absolutely overlook that you are only a gymnasist ... And then Meshcherskaya, without losing simplicity and calm, suddenly politely ne-her - sorry, Madame, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And to blame for this - you know who? Friend and neighbor Pope, and your brother Alexey Mikhailovich Malyutin. It happened last summer in the village ... And a month after this conversation, the Cossack officer, an ugly and plebeian species, who had nothing to do with that circle, to which Olya Meshcherskaya belonged to Koto-Roma, shot it on the station platform, among the big crowd of the people , just arrived with the train. And the wrongful-tall, the boss, the boss, the recognition of the Olya Meshcherskoy, absolutely subtells: The officer told the judicial investigator that the Meshcherta was set him up, he was close to him, swore to be his wife, and at the station, on the day of the murder, speaking him in Novocherkassk, suddenly said He is that she did not think to never love him that all these conversations about marriage - one of her because of the media over him, and let him read the page of the diary, where he was said about Malyutin. "I ran these lines and immediately, on the platform where she walked, waiting until I finish reading, fired at her," said an officer. - This diary is this, take a look that it was written in it in the tenth of July last year. The diary was written as follows: "Now the second hour of the night. I faded firmly, but immediately woke up ... now I became a woman! Pa Para, Mom and Tolya, everyone went to the city, I stayed alone. I was so happy that alone! I was in the morning in the garden, in the field, was in the forest, I kashed that I was alone in the whole world, and I thought so good, more than ever in my life. I lunch alone, then the whole hour played, under Music I would have such a feeling that I would live without end and I would be so happy as no one. Then he fell asleep in the office, and at four o'clock I woke me up, said that Alexey Mikhailovich arrived. I am very pleased It was so nice to take it and take him. He came to a couple of his Vyatok, very beautiful, and they all the time stood at the porch, he was accompanied, because it was raining, he wanted to dry in the evening. He regretted What did not find dad, was very animated and kept himself with me Ka Valera, I joked a lot that he had long been in love with me. When we walked past tea in Salu, there was again Eat weather, the sun glistened through the entire wet garden, although it became very cold, and he kept me at her arm and said that he was Faust with Margarita. He is fifty-six years old, but he is still very beautiful and always well dressed - I did not like it only that he came to the Wilder, - it smells of English cologne, and the eyes are completely m-strades, black, and the beard is elegantly divided into two long parts and - Silver. For tea, we sat on a glass veranda, I had a challerant of myself as if unhealthy and lay on the ottoo, and he smoked, he moved to me, began to say some kind of courtesy again, then consider and kiss my hand. I closed the face with a silk handkerchief, and he kissed me several times on his lips through a handkerchief ... I do not understand how it could happen, I went crazy. I never thought I was taja! Now I am one way out ... I feel such a disgust for him that I can not survive this! ... "The city for these April days was clean, dry, the stones were coarsed, and it's easy and pleasant to go on it. Every Sunday, after Lunch, on the co-boring street leading to the departure from the city, a little wife is sent in Touré, in black like gloves, with an umbrella from black de roam. It goes along the highway dirty area, where many smoked forge and freshly blowing fields air; further, between the male monastery and the uncertainty, whites the cloud slope of the sky and gray the spring field, and then, when you grow up among the puddle under the wall of the monastery and turn left, you will see a big low garden, a white fence, which is written above Assumption god's Mother. The little woman is finely baptized and is familiar to the main alley. Having reached the bench against the do-bovy cross, she sits in the wind and on the spring cold hour, two, until her feet in light shoes and a hand in a narrow skin. Listening to spring birds, sweetly singing and in the cold, listening to the wind of the wind in a porcelain wreath, she sometimes thinks that he would give half every cells, if only it was not before her eyes of this dead wreath. This wreath, this hill, Oak Cross! Is it possible that under him that whose eyes are so immortally shining from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross, and how the owl of the sob with this clean look, what is connected now with Has Olya Meshcherskaya? But in the depths of the soul, the little woman is happy, like all the people devoted to some passionate dream. This woman is the cool lady of Olya Meshcherskaya, an unclear girl who has long been living any fiction that replaces the actual life. At first, her brother was, poor and not a wonderful ensign, she joined her sick with him, with his future, for some reason she seemed to her brilliant. When he was killed under Muk-den, she convinced himself that she was ideological worker. The death of Oli Me-Shcherie Plenila her new dream. Now Olya Meshcherskaya is the subject of her non-indental spirit and feelings. She goes to her grave every holiday, he does not descend the eyes from the oak cross, recalls the pale lyrcoxy Olya Meshcherskaya in the coffin, among the colors - and the fact that once overheard: one day, on a big change, walking along the gymnasium hall, Olya Meshcherskaya quickly, quickly spoke to his beloved friend, full, high subbi-tina: - I'm in one daddy book, - he has a lot of vintage funny books- I read what kind of beauty should be in a woman ... there, you know, so much risen that you don't mention everything: well, of course, black, boiling a resin, - by God, it is written: boiling resin! - Black, like night, eyelashes, gently playing blush, thin camp, longer than an ordinary hand, - you understand, longer than ordinary! - Little leg, moderately big breasts, correctly rounded caviar, the knee of color of the sink, crawled shoulders, - I learned a lot to learn, so all this is true! - But most importantly, do you know what? - Easy breath! But I have it, - Listen, how I sigh, - because the truth is, there? Now it's easy breathing again scattered in the world, in this cloudy sky, in this cold spring wind. 1916

Bunin Ivan Alekseevich (1870 - 1953) was born on October 10 in Voronezh in the nobility family. Children's years have passed in the birthday estate on the farm of the bottle of the Oryol province, among the "Sea of \u200b\u200bBlows, herbs, flowers", "in the deepest field silence" under the supervision of the teacher and the educator, the "pisred man", who was interested in his student with painting, from which that "was Pretty long anxiety ", in the rest of the fact that gave.

In 1889, Bunin left the estate and was forced to look for work to secure a modest existence (he worked as a corrector, statistical, librarian, collaborated in the newspaper). Often moved - lived in Orel, then in Kharkov, then in Poltava, then in Moscow. In 1891 his collection of "poems", saturated with impressions from native orlovshchina.

Ivan Bunin in 1894 in Moscow met with L. Tolstoy, friendly adopted young Bunin, in next year I got acquainted with A. Chekhov. In 1895, a story "on the edge of the world", well accepted by criticism, published. Inspired by success, Bunin goes entirely to literary creativity.

In 1898 there is a collection of poems "under open sky", In 1901, a collection of" Listopad ", for which he was awarded the Higher Prize of the Academy of Sciences - Pushkin Prize (1903). In 1899 he met M. Gorky, who attracts him to cooperate in the" Knowledge "publishing house, where appeared the best stories that time: " Antonovskaya apples"(1900)," Pines "and" New Road "(1901)," Chernozem "(1904).

Bitter will write: "... if it is reported: this is the best stylist of modernity - there will be no exaggeration." In 1909, Bunin became an honorary member Russian Academy science The story "Village", printed in 1910, brought her to the author wide reading fame. In 1911 - the story "Sukhodol" - a chronicle of the degeneration of the manor nobility. In subsequent years, a series appeared significant Story and lead: " Ancient man"," Ignat "," Zakhar Vorobiev "," A good life"," Mr. San Francisco. "

Hostile meeting October Revolution, Writer in 1920 left Russia forever. Through the Crimea, and then through Constantinople emigrated to France and settled in Paris. All written by him in emigration, concerned Russia, Russian man, Russian nature: "Kosov", "Lapti", "distant", "Mitina Love", the newline " Dark alleys", Roman" Life Arsenyev ", 1930, and others.

In 1933, the Bunin was awarded the Nobel Prize.

Bunin lived long life, survived the invasion of fascism to Paris, rejoiced victory over him.

On the cemetery, over fresh clay embankment is a new cross from oak, strong, heavy, smooth.

April, gray days; Monuments of the cemetery, spacious, county, are still far away through bare trees, and the cold wind rises and rings a porcelain wreath at the foot of the cross.

In the very same cross, the cross is pretty large, a convex porcelain medallion, and in the medallion - a photographic portrait of a gymnasium with joyful, strikingly alive eyes.

This is Olya Meshcherskaya.

The girl she did not stand out in the crowd of brown gymnasic dresses: what could be said about her, except that she was from the number of pretty, rich and happy girls, that she is capable, but playful and very careless to those instructions that she makes her cool lady ?

Then she began to flourish, not developing by day, but by the hour. At fourteen years, she, with a thin waist and slender legs, have already been well described and all those forms whose charm has never expressed the human word; In fifteen she was already heard by beauty. How carefully combed some of her friends, as was chopped, as they watched their restrained movements!

And she was not afraid of anything - neither ink spots on the fingers, neither the painted face, no disheveled hair, nor the knee-driving on the knee. Without her worries and effort and somehow, all the things have come to her, everything that has so distinguished it in the last two years from the entire gymnasium - the grace, elegacity, dexterity, clear shine of the eyes ...

Nobody danced so on the balas as Olya Meshcherskaya, no one ran up as ice skates, as she, at whom they did not care for the balls as much as her, and for some reason no one did not love so junior classes like her. She became unnoticed by her girl, and her gymnasic glory was imperceptibly strengthened, and she had already taken any senses that she was windy, he could not live without fans that the Shenshin gymnasist was inseractlessly in love with her, as if she would love him, but so a change in handling him that he attempted suicide.

Olya Meshcherskaya, the last winter, was completely crazy from fun, as they said in the gymnasium. Winter was snowy, sunny, frosty, early Sun designed the sun for the high spruce of a snowy gymnasium garden, invariably, the radiant, promising and tomorrow frost and sun, walking on the cathedral street, skating rink in the city garden, pink evening, music and this in all sides The crowd sliding on the rink, in which Olya Meshcherskaya seemed the most carefree, the most happy.

And once, on a big change, when she was swirl on the national team from the first-graders he driving and blissfully called her, it was unexpectedly called to the boss. She stopped with a scatter, he made only one deep breath, quickly and already familiar female movement recovered her hair, jerked the corners of the apron to the shoulders and, shining her eyes, ran upstairs. The boss, two-way, but gray, calmly sat with knitting in his hands at the desk, under the royal portrait.

Hello, Mademoiselle Meshcherskaya, "she said in French, without raising her eyes from knitting. - I, unfortunately, not the first time forced to call you here to talk with you about your behavior.

I listen, Madame, "answered Meshcherskaya, coming to the table, looking at her clearly and alive, but without any expression on his face, and sat so easily and gracefully as soon as she knew that one.

You will listen to me badly, I, unfortunately, was convinced of this, - said the boss and, pulling a thread and wrapped on the lacquered floor of the ball, at which Meshcherskaya looked with curiosity, raised her eyes. "I will not repeat, I will not speak extensively, - she said.

Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually pure and large office, so well breathable in frosty days with warm shiny Dutch and the freshness of the valley in the writing desk. She looked at the young king, to the full growth of the written among some brilliant hall, on a smooth sample in dairy, neatly corrugated hair, the boss and expectantly silent.

You are no longer a girl, - the boss said meaningfully, secretly starting annoying.

Yes, Madame, - Simply, Meshcherskaya answered almost fun.

But not a woman - the boss said even more significant, and her matte face was slightly talked. - First of all, what is this hairstyle? This is a female hairstyle!

I'm not guilty, Madame, that I have good hair, "Meshcherskaya replied and slightly touched both hands his beautifully cleaned head.

Oh, that's how you are not to blame! - said the boss. "You are not to blame for hairstyle, not to blame for these expensive ridges, not to blame that we ruin our parents on twenty rubles! But, I repeat to you, you absolutely overlook that you are only a gymnasics ...

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

Sorry, Madame, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And to blame for this - you know who? Friend and neighbor Pope, and your brother Alexey Mikhailovich Malyutin. It happened last summer in the village ...

And a month later, after this conversation, the Cossack officer, an ugly and plebeian species, who had nothing to do with that circle to which Olya Meshcherskaya was shot on the platform of the station, among the big crowd of the people, just arriving with the train. And the incredible, who stunned the boss, the recognition of Oli Meshcherskaya was completely confirmed: the officer stated his judicial investigator that the Meshcheck was set up, he was close to him, swore to be his wife, and at the station, on the day of the murder, speaking him in Novocherkassk, suddenly told him that she And I didn't think to love him that all these conversations about marriage were one of her mockery over him, and let him read the diary page, where it was said about Malyutin.

I ran these lines and immediately, on the platform where she walked, waiting until I finish reading, shot in her, "said the officer. - Diary This, here he, take a look that it was written in the tenth of July last year.

The following has been written in the diary: "Now for the second hour of the night. I fell firmly, but immediately woke up ... now I became a woman! Dad, mom and Tolya, everyone went to the city, I stayed alone. I was so happy that one ! I walked in the garden in the morning, in the field, it was in the forest, it seemed to me that I was alone around the world, and I thought so good, more than ever in my life. I also dined one, then I played for a whole hour, I have for the music It was a feeling that I would live without end and I would be so happy as no one.

Then he fell asleep from dad in the office, and at four o'clock I woke me up, said Alexey Mikhailovich. I was very happy with him, I was so nice to take it and take it. He arrived at the pair of his Vyatok, very beautiful, and they all the time stood at the porch, he was left, because it was raining, and he wanted to dry in the evening. He regretted that he did not find dad, was very animated and kept himself with a cavalier, he joked a lot that he had long been in love with me.

When we walked before tea in the garden, there was again charming weather, the sun glistened through the whole wet garden, although it became very cold, and he led me at hand and said that he was Faust with Margarita. He is fifty-six years old, but he is still very beautiful and always dressed - I didn't like it only that he came to the Corycle, - it smells in English cologne, and the eyes are very young, black, and the beard is elegantly divided into two long pieces and completely silver.

For tea, we sat on a glass veranda, I felt like unhealthy and lay on the ottoo, and he smoked, then I moved to me, began to say any kind of courtesy again, then consider and kiss my hand. I closed my face with a silk handkerchief, and he kissed me several times on his lips through a handkerchief ... I do not understand how it could happen, I went crazy, I never thought I was like this! Now I am one way out ... I feel such a disgust for him that I can not survive it! .. "

The city for these April days was clean, dry, the stones were coars, and it's easy and pleasant to go. Every Sunday, after the dinner, on the Cathedral Street, leading to the departure from the city, a little woman is sent in Touréra, in black like gloves, with an umbrella of ebony. It goes along the highway dirty area, where many worsted forges and freshly blowing field air; Further, between the male monastery and the Ostrog, whites the cloud slope of the sky and he seine the spring field, and then, when we grow up among the puddle under the wall of the monastery and turn to the left, you will see a big low garden, disconnected by a white fence, over the gates of which is written by the mother's audience.

The little woman is finely baptized and is familiar to the main alley. Having reached the bench against the oak cross, she sits in the wind and on the spring cold hour, two, until her feet in light shoes and hand in a narrow skin. Listening to spring birds, sweetly singing and in the cold, listening to the winds of the wind in a porcelain wreath, she sometimes thinks that he would give half every cells, just before her eyes of this dead wreath. This wreath, this hill, Oak Cross! Is it possible that under him, whose eyes are so immortally shine from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross, and how to combine with this clean look, is the terrible, what is connected now with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya? But in the depths of the soul, the little woman is happy, like all the people devoted to some passionate dream.

This woman is the cool lady of Olya Meshcherskaya, an unclear girl who has long been living any fiction that replaces the actual life. At first, her brother was, the poor and not a wonderful ensign worker, - she joined his soul with him, with his future, which for some reason she appeared brilliant her. When he was killed under Mukden, she convinced himself that she was ideological worker.

The death of Olya Meshchersk was captured by her new dream. Now Olya Meshcherskaya is the subject of its relentless dooms and feelings. She goes to her grave every holiday, by the clock does not descend the eyes from the oak cross, remembers the pale lyrum Oli Meshcherskaya in the coffin, among the colors - and the fact that once overheard: Once, on a big change, walking along the Gymnasium Garden, Olya Meshcherskaya quickly, Quickly spoke to her beloved friend, full, high subbotens:

I am in a single father's book, "he has many old funny books," I read what kind of beauty should have a woman ... There, you understand, so much risen that you don't remember everything: well, of course, black, boiling a resin, - she - Begun, it is written: boiling by resin! -Cleant, like a night, eyelashes, gently playing a blush, a thin mill, longer than an ordinary hand, "you understand, a longer than ordinary! - Little leg, a lot of breasts, correctly rounded caviar, color knee Sinks, shovels, - I learned a lot almost by heart, so all this is true! - But most importantly, do you know what? - Easy breath! But I have it, - Listen, how I sigh, - because the truth is, there?

Now it's easy breathing again scattered in the world, in this cloudy sky, in this cold spring wind.