The image of Arina Petrovna: this is the only outstanding person in the Golovlev family. She is the mother and head of the family. "The woman is domineering and, moreover, to a great extent gifted with creativity" - characterizes her author. Arina Petrovna runs the household, takes care of all the affairs of the family. She is cheerful

Strong-willed, energetic. But the sense from this is only in the economy. Arina Petrovna suppresses her sons and her husband, who hates her for this. She never loved her husband, considered him a fool, a weakling, unable to run a household. “The husband called his wife“ witch ”and“ devil, ”the wife called her husband“ windmill ”and“ stringless balalaika ”.

In fact, having lived forty years in a family, Arina Petrovna remains a bachelor who is only interested in money, bills and business conversations. She has no warm feelings for her husband and children, no sympathy, which is why she punishes her loved ones so terribly when they are irresponsible

To property or not subject to it.

The image of Stepan Golovlev: this is a "gifted guy" with a mischievous character, with a good memory and learning abilities. However, he was brought up in idleness, all his energy was spent on leprosy. After graduating, Stepan is unable to make a career as an official in St. Petersburg, since he has neither the ability nor the desire for it. He once again confirms the nickname "Styopka-dunce", for a long time leads a wandering life. By the age of forty, he is terrified of his mother, who will not support, but, on the contrary, will get stuck. Stepan comes to the realization that he “can’t do anything” because he never tried to work, but wanted to get everything for free, to snatch a piece from a greedy mother, or someone else. He gets drunk in Golovlev and dies.

The image of Pavel Golovlev. This is a military man, but also a person depressed by his mother, colorless. Outwardly, he snaps and is rude to his mother. But inside he is afraid of her and finds fault with her, resisting her influence. "He was a sullen man, but behind the sullenness hid the absence of action - and nothing else." Having moved to Golovlevo, he entrusts affairs to his housekeeper - Ulita. Pavel Golovlev himself gets drunk, consumed with hatred for his brother Judushka. They die in this hatred, embittered, with curses and curses.

The image of Judas, Porfiry Golovlev. This man is the quintessence of the Golovlev family. He chose hypocrisy as his weapon. Under the guise of a sweet and sincere person, he achieves his goals, collects family property around him. His low soul rejoices in the troubles of his brothers and sisters, and when they die, he gets sincere pleasure in the division of property. In relationships with his children, he also thinks about money first of all - and his sons cannot stand it. At the same time, Porfiry never allows himself to say rudeness or causticity. He is polite, feigned sweet and caring, endlessly reflects, spreads honey-flowing speeches, weaves verbal intrigues. People see his deceit, but succumb to it. Even Arina Petrovna herself cannot resist them. But in the finale of the novel Judas also comes to his downfall. He becomes incapable of anything but idle talk. For whole days he gets bored with all the conversations that no one listens to. If the servant turns out to be sensitive to his verbiage and nagging, then he tries to run away from the owner. The tyranny of Judas is becoming more and more petty, he also drinks, like more calmer brothers, for entertainment all day long he recalls minor offenses or minimal miscalculations in the household, in order to "discredit" them. Meanwhile, the real economy does not develop, it falls into desolation and decline. In the novel's finale, a terrible insight descends on Judas: “We need to forgive everyone ... What ... what has happened. Where is… everyone ?! ” But the family, divided by hatred, coldness and inability to forgive, has already been destroyed.

The image of Anna and the image of Lyuba from the “Golovlevs”. Judas' nieces are representatives of the last generation of the Golovlevs. They try to escape from the oppressive atmosphere of the family, at first they succeed. They work, play in the theater and are proud of it. But they were not taught to consistent, persistent activity. They didn’t get accustomed to moral fortitude, vitality. Lyubinka is ruined by her cynicism and prudence, taken from her grandmother, and she herself pushes her sister into the abyss. From actresses, the "Pogorelski sisters" pass into kept women, then almost into prostitutes. Anninka, morally purer, more emotional, disinterested and kindhearted, stubbornly clings to life. But she also breaks down, and after Lyubinka's suicide, sick and drinking, she returns to Golovlevo, “to die”.

Essays on topics:

1. The novel by Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky "Crime and Punishment is one of the most complex works Russian literature, in which the author spoke about ...

Reality reflected in the novel. The novel "The Lord Golovlevs" was written by Shchedrin between 1875 and 1880. Separate parts of it were included as essays in a cycle called "Well-intentioned speeches." Within the framework of this cycle, for example, the chapters "Family Court", "Relatively", "Family Results" were published. But, having received warm approval from Nekrasov and Turgenev, Shchedrin decided to continue the story of the Golovlevs and highlight it in a separate book. Its first edition was published in 1880.

The crisis of the social system of Russia, which so sharply captured various spheres of her life, had a special effect on the decomposition of family relations. Before our eyes, family ties began to break, once connecting members of numerous noble families. Affected by the fragility of property and economic relations and the rottenness of the morality that held together people united by family ties. The veneration of the elders has faded, the concern for the upbringing of the younger has faded. Proprietary claims became the determining factor. All this was excellently shown by Shchedrin in the novel "Lord Golovlyov", which became one of the highest achievements of Russian realism.

Three generations of one "noble nest". The writer recreated the life of a landowner family in pre-reform and especially in post-reform Russia, the gradual disintegration of the "noble nest" and the degradation of its members. Decomposition engulfs three generations of the Golovlevs. The older generation includes Arina Petrovna and her husband Vladimir Mikhailovich, the middle generation includes their sons Porfiry, Stepan and Pavel, and the younger generation includes the grandchildren Petenka, Volodenka, Anninka and Lyubinka. One of the features of the composition of Shchedrin's book is that each of its chapters includes the death of one of the Golovlevs as the most important result of the existence of the "extinct family". The first chapter shows the death of Stepan, the second - Paul, the third - Vladimir, the fourth - Arina Petrovna and Peter (deaths multiply before our eyes), the last chapter tells about the death of Lyubinka, the death of Porfiry and the death of Anninka.

The writer outlines a kind of predetermination of the degradation of the members of the ramified Golovlev family. Stepan once recalls the details that characterize the order in Golovlyovo: “Here is Uncle Mikhail Petrovich (in common parlance Mishka the Buyan), who also belonged to the“ hateful ”group and whom grandfather Pyotr Ivanovich imprisoned with his daughter in Golovlevo, where he lived in a man's room and ate from one cup with the dog Trezorka. Here is aunt Vera Mikhailovna, who out of mercy lived in the Golovlev estate with her brother Vladimir Mikhailich and who died of moderation, "because Arina Petrovna reproached her with every piece she ate at dinner, and every log of firewood" used to heat her room. " It becomes clear that children in this family cannot initially respect their elders if they keep their parents in the position of dogs and at the same time starve them to death. Another thing is also clear: children will repeat this practice in their own behavior. Shchedrin characterizes in detail the way of life and traces the fate of all the named representatives of the three generations.

Vladimir Mikhailovich and Arina Petrovna. Here is the head of the family - Vladimir Mikhailovich Golovlev, known for his careless and mischievous character, an idle and idle life. It is characterized by mental debauchery, writing "free poetry in the spirit of Barkov", which his wife called "foulness", and their author - "windmill" and "stringless balalaika". An idle life strengthened the dissipation and "diluted" the brains of Golovlev Sr. Over time, he began to drink and watch for "maid girls". Arina Petrovna at first treated this with disgust, and then waved her hand at the "toadstools." Golovlev Sr. called his wife a "witch" and talked about her with his eldest son Stepan.

Arina herself Petrovna was the sovereign mistress of the house. She used a lot of strength, energy and a wolf's grip to expand her possessions, accumulate goods and multiply capital. She ruled the peasants and households despotically and uncontrollably, although she did not know how to cope with all the four thousand souls that belonged to her. She devoted her whole life to acquiring, striving for accumulation and, as it seemed to her, creation. However, this activity was meaningless. In her zeal and hoarding, she is very reminiscent of Gogol's Plyushkin. Her son Stepan tells about his mother in the following way: “How much, brother, she overwhelmed the good - passion!<...>The fresh supply will be lost, and she will not touch it until all the old rot comes! " She overexposes her rich supplies in cellars and barns, where they turn into decay. The writer endows Arina Petrovna with terrible cruelty. The novel begins with the fact that the owner of the estate deals with the Moscow innkeeper Ivan Mikhailovich, an innocent man, giving him up for recruits.

Arina Petrovna talks a lot about "family ties". But this is just hypocrisy, because she does nothing to strengthen the family and methodically breaks it down. According to Shchedrin, the children "did not touch a single string of her inner being", since these strings themselves were not there, and she turned out to be the same "stringless balalaika" like her husband. Her cruelty towards children has no boundaries: she can starve them, keep them locked up, like Stepan, not be interested in their health when they are sick. She is convinced that if she “threw out a piece” to her son, then she should not get to know him anymore. Arina Petrovna hypocritically declares that for orphan girls she "pours money" and takes care of them, but feeds them with rotten corned beef and reproaches these "beggars", "parasites", "insatiable wombs", and in a letter to Porfiry she viciously calls them " puppies ". Her children, already humiliated, she tries to belittle even more, specially choosing suitable insults for this. "What are you, like a mouse on a rump, pouted!" she shouts to Pavel. And in other cases, she resorts to such comparisons that should coarse the statement, trample the interlocutor into the mud. “What was it like for me to find out that he had thrown a parental blessing, like a gnawed bone, into the cesspool? "She asks. “For nothing, and a pimple on the nose will not jump up,” - teaches the mother of her hateful children. And then everything is sanctimoniously trying to furnish deanery, references to God and to the Church. And it necessarily accompanies these actions with falsehood and lies. This is how she greets her sons when they appear at the family court: solemnly, heartbroken, with legs weaving. And Shchedrin notes: “In general, in the eyes of the children, she loved to play the role of a respectable and dejected mother ...” But the constant thirst for enrichment, rounding off property and hoarding was killing her and finally perverting her mother's feelings. As a result, that "family stronghold", which she seemed to be erecting, collapsed. It is curious that the name Peter and patronymic Petrovich, Petrovna especially often flicker in the list of the Golovlevs, dully recalling the etymology of this word ("stone"). But all the bearers of this name, up to Petenka, one by one leave the stage and perish. The “stone” of the stronghold turns out to be undermined and destroyed. Brother Mikhail Petrovich dies, then her husband, then the eldest and youngest sons, daughter and grandchildren die. And Arina Petrovna actively contributes to this. Everything that she seemed to create turned out to be ghostly, and she herself turned into a miserable and disenfranchised hanger with dull eyes and a hunched back.

Shchedrin describes in detail the life and fate of the eldest son of the landowner - Stepan. Accustomed under the guidance of his father to "play tricks" from childhood (either the kerchief of the girl Anyuta will cut into pieces, then the sleepy Vasyutka will put flies in his mouth, then he will steal a pie from the kitchen), he acts in the same way at his forty years old: on the way to Golovlevo he steals his companions have a bottle of vodka and sausage and is going to "send in a hailo" all the flies that have stuck to the mouth of a neighbor. It is no coincidence that this eldest son of the Golovlevs is nicknamed in the family Stepka the goof and the "lanky stallion" and plays the role of a real jester in the house. He is distinguished by the character of a slave, intimidated, belittled by those around him, he does not leave the feeling that he, "like a worm, will die of hunger." Gradually, he finds himself in the position of a rookie, living on the edge of a "gray abyss", in the role of a hateful son. He gets drunk, forgotten and despised by everyone, and dies either from a dissolute life, or tormented by his own mother.

The eternal type of Porfiry Golovlev. Stepan's brother is most vividly drawn in Shchedrin's novel - Porfiry Golovlev. WITH childhood he was endowed with three nicknames. One, the "outspoken boy," probably had something to do with his addiction to whispering. The other two particularly accurately expressed the essence of this Shchedrin hero. He was nicknamed Judas, the name of a traitor. But in Shchedrin, this evangelical name appears in a diminutive form, since Porfiry's betrayals are not grandiose, but everyday, everyday, albeit vile, causing a feeling of disgust. So, during the family trial, he betrays his brother Stepan, and then does the same with his younger brother, Pavel, contributing to his imminent death. The dying Paul turns to him with indignant words: “Judas! Traitor! Let my mother go all over the world! " This time the word "Judas" sounds without its diminutive suffix. Betrays Porfiry and many other people depicted in the novel. Porfiry's third nickname is "Blood Drinker". Both brothers represent him as a vampire. According to Stepan, "this one will fit into the soul without soap." "And his mother, the" old witch ", will eventually decide: he will suck the property and capital out of her." And in the eyes of Pavel, Porfiry looks like a "blood drinker". “He knew,” the author notes, “that Judas' eyes ooze poison, that his voice, like a snake, crawls into the soul and paralyzes the will of man.” And that is why he is so confused by his "foul image". This ability of Judas to suck blood from people is especially vividly manifested first in the scene at the bedside of the sick Paul, and then in the episode of the mother's gathering, when he is ready to examine her chests and take her tarantass from her.

The Juda woman has such properties as constant flattery, sycophancy and servility. At that time, when his mother was in power, he obsequiously listened to her, smiled, sighed, rolled his eyes, spoke tender words to her, assented to her. "Porfiry Vladimirich was ready to rip the vestments on himself, but he feared that in the village, perhaps, there would be no one to fix them."

The hypocrisy of Porfiry Golovlev looks even more disgusting. The author of the novel, talking about the behavior of his hero at the bedside of a dying man, notes: this hypocrisy "was such a need of his nature that he could not interrupt the comedy that had just begun." In the chapter "Family Results" Shchedrin emphasizes that Judas was "a hypocrite of a purely Russian style, that is, just a man devoid of any moral yardstick", and this property was combined in him with "ignorance without borders", hypocrisy, lies and litigation. Each time this hypocrite and deceiver strives to turn to God, to remember Scripture, prayerfully raising his hands and languidly rolling up his eyes. But when he pretends to pray, he thinks about something else and whispers something not divine at all.

The Juda woman is characterized by "mental debauchery" and idle talk. He, according to the author, goes into a "binge of idle thinking." From morning to evening, he "languished over fantastic work": he made all sorts of unrealizable assumptions, "took into account himself, talked with imaginary interlocutors." And all this was subordinated to his predation and "thirst for gain", for in his thoughts he tyrannized, tormented people, imposed fines on them, ruined and sucked blood. Idle thinking finds an excellent form of embodiment for itself - idle talk, the master of which was the hero of Shchedrin. This manifests itself during the trial of Stepan and in the episodes when his mother became a listener to his idle talk. He invariably surrounds every low deed, every slander and complaint about people with idle talk and false phraseology. At the same time, according to Shchedrin, he does not speak, but “pulls the gimmick”, “rattles off”, “rants”, “annoys”, “itches”. And that is why it was not a simple idle talk, but "a stinking ulcer, which incessantly sharpened pus from itself" and the invariable "deceitful word." Shchedrin, portraying Porfiry Golovlev, relies on Gogol traditions. Like Sobakevich, he praises his loyal serfs. Like Plyushkin, he is engaged in hoarding and sits in a greasy dressing gown. Like Manilov, he indulges in meaningless reverie and idle calculations. But at the same time, brilliantly combining the comic with the tragic, Shchedrin creates his own unique image, which entered the gallery of world types.

The satirist perfectly reproduces the relationship between the owner of the estate and Judas with the representatives of the third generation of the Golovlevs. It turns out that the latter are victims of the merciless attitude of greedy money-givers and bigots, people who are cruel or criminally indifferent. This applies, first of all, to the children of Judas himself.

Third generation, Vladimir, Petenka and nieces. Vladimir, starting a family, he counted on the material assistance of his father, especially since Judas promised to support him. But at the last moment the hypocrite and traitor refused the money, and Vladimir shot himself in a fit of despair. Another son of Judas - Petenka- squandered government money. He, too, comes to his rich father, hoping for help. Having entangled his son in Jesuit phraseology, defining his son's request as extortion "for trashy deeds," Judas kicks out Petenka, who turned out to be convicted and died on the way, not reaching the place of exile. With his mistress Evprakseyushka, Judushka takes in another son, whom he sends to a Moscow orphanage. The baby could not endure the road in winter and died, becoming another victim of the "bloodsucker".

A similar fate awaits the granddaughters of Arina Petrovna, the nieces of Judas - Lyubinka and Anninka, twins left after the death of their mother. Unprotected and deprived of help, embroiled in a lawsuit, they cannot withstand the pressures of life. Lyubinka resorts to suicide, and Anninka, who did not find the strength to drink poison, is turned by Judas into a living corpse and pursues Golovlyovo with her harassment, anticipating agony and death and this last soul from the Golovlev family. So Shchedrin conveyed the history of the moral and physical degeneration of three generations of a noble family, the decay of its foundations.

Genre originality of the novel. Before us novel-chronicle, consisting of seven relatively independent chapters, similar to Shchedrin's essays, but held together by a single plot and a rigid chronology, subordinated to the idea of ​​relentless degradation and death. At the same time, it is a family novel, compared with E. Zola's epic "Rougon-Makkara". With all his pathos, he debunks the idea of ​​the integrity and strength of the noble family and testifies to the deep crisis of the latter. The peculiarity of the genre determined the originality of such components of the novel as landscape with with its stingy laconicism, gloomy coloring and gray, poor colors; images of everyday things that play a special role in the proprietary world of the Golovlevs; portrait, emphasizing the unswerving "stealthiness" of the heroes; a language that perfectly reveals the essence of the characters reproduced and conveys the position of the satirist himself, his bitter irony, sarcasm and apt formulas of his naked speech.

Questions and tasks:

As the crisis of the social system of Russia and the decay of familiesof these relations are reflected in the novel of M.E. Saltykov-Shchedrin?

Where do you see the compositional features of this satirist's book?

What is remarkable about the appearance and behavior of the senior membersOf the "extinct" family?

How was the life of Stepka the dunce?

What means of artistic depiction and youM.E.Saltykov-Shchedrin resorts tothe anger of Porfiry Golovlev?

What awaits in the life of representatives of the third generationGolovlev?

How do you define the genre of Shchedrin's creation?

I turned to family, to property,
to the state and made it clear
that nothing of this is in cash anymore.
M.E. Saltykov-Shchedrin

History of creation

"The extraordinary vitality of lies and darkness" extremely worried and oppressed M.Ye. Saltykov-Shchedrin. Back in the late 1950s, on the eve of the liberation of the peasants from serfdom, he conceived a "Book of the Dying" - those who, as he hoped, would soon leave the historical scene. It was primarily about the feudal landlords, to whom Saltykov himself belonged by origin.

The future satirist grew up in his father's family estate in the Tver province. From childhood he got to know the landlord's life well and hated it. "The environment in which I spent most of my life was very vile ..." - said in one of his letters. Almost three decades after the reform, Saltykov-Shchedrin had to watch the landowners trying to regain power over the peasants.

In his last major works - the novel "The Lord Golovlevs" (1875-1880) and the chronicle "Poshekhonskaya antiquity", the writer turned to the past and created deep and terrible images of serf landowners.

The novel The Lord Golovlevs (1875–1880) is based on several stories about the Golovlev family from the Well-intentioned Speeches cycle.

The first chapter of the novel "Family Court" was the fifteenth essay of "Well-intentioned speeches", published in the "Notes of the Fatherland" in 1875. “Family Court” was warmly greeted by Goncharov, Nekrasov, A.M. Zhemchuzhnikov and especially Turgenev.

Instead of sketches, the author is "a major novel with a grouping of characters and events, with a guiding thought and broad execution", and one after the other there are chapters "In a Relative", "Family Books", "Nephew", "Vymorochny" family joys"(1875-1876).

And only the chapter "Decision" ("Calculation") comes out much later - in 1880: the artist's thoughts over the ending of the novel - over the end of Judas, which was supposed to be deeply artistic and psychologically motivated, postponed work on it for several years.

"Family thought" in the novel

The 80s of the XIX century - the time when the feudal landlords left the historical scene. "The chain is great," as he called serfdom ON. Nekrasov, for centuries crushed not only the peasants, but also gradually crippled the souls and human nature of the bar themselves. And although in the novel "Lord Golovlevs" there are many references to the tragic fate of serfs, main drama is played out in the family of their owners, masters.

To trace how the disintegration of the landlord clan is taking place, Saltykov-Shchedrin chose the genre of family chronicle. The author focuses on the noble family, the fate of three generations of the noble family.

Question

What is the difference between Saltykov-Shchedrin's novel from other works of Russian literature, in which the theme of the family is raised?

Answer

“Gentlemen Golovlevs” are written “on the principle of nepotism,” so popular in Russian literature. However, the author opposed the idealization of "noble nests". They do not evoke in him the sympathetic attitude that Aksakov, Turgenev, Tolstoy, Goncharov and others had.

In terms of design, intonation, and conclusions, this is a work of a completely different plan: in Shchedrin's "noble nest" there are no poetic pavilions, no luxurious linden alleys, no secluded benches in the depths of shady parks - all that has the heroes of family chronicles other writers to "high speeches" and happy love confessions.

Question

What makes a family united?

Answer

Love, mutual respect, mutual assistance, common interests, etc.

Question

How are these moral categories refracted in the Golovlev family?

Answer

With the Golovlevs, love turns into hatred; mutual respect is humiliation; mutual help - in the fear of each other. Common interests boil down to only one thing: how to leave the other without a "piece".

Question

What do the representatives of the Golovlev family see the meaning of life?

Answer

The whole meaning of life of the Golovlevs consisted in the acquisition, accumulation of wealth, the struggle for this wealth. Mutual hatred, suspicion, soulless cruelty, hypocrisy reign in the family.

Alcoholism is a family disease of the Golovlevs, which leads to complete moral decay of the personality, and then physical death occurs.

Question

What is the culminating scene in the first chapter?

Answer

The culmination of the first chapter is Stepan's trial. This scene defines the conflict, theme and idea of ​​the entire novel.

Exercise

Comment on this scene.

Answer

There is a "meeting" of members of the Golovlev family about the further fate of Stepan, the eldest son, who squandered the share of the inheritance allocated to him. This is a contradiction between verbal statements about the sanctity and strength of the family, religion and state - and the internal rottenness of the Golovlevs.

The word "family", "in a kinship", "brother" sound constantly, but there is no real content or at least a sign of sincere feelings behind them. The same Arina Petrovna does not find other definitions for her eldest son, except as "dunce", "villain". In the end, she condemns him to a half-starved existence and "forgets" about him.

Brother Paul listens to Stepan's verdict with complete indifference and immediately forgets about it. Porfiry persuades his "dear friend mamma" not to give Stepan his father's share of the inheritance. Arina Petrovna looks at her youngest son and thinks: "Is he really such a bloodsucker that he will drive his brother out into the street?" This is how the theme of the whole novel is determined: the destruction and death of the Golovlev family.

Question

Why are gentlemen Golovlevs doomed to die?

Answer

The composition of the novel is subordinated to the main idea of ​​the author - to show the death of the serf-owners. That is why the action proceeds along the line of the gradual dying of the Golovlev family, the reduction of the number of actors and the concentration of all wealth in the hands of Porfiry.

The father dies, an empty, frivolous, depraved man; sister dies; Stepan himself dies. They die painfully and shamefully. The same death awaits other family members.

Literature

Andrey Turkov. Mikhail Evgrafovich Saltykov-Shchedrin // Encyclopedias for children "Avanta +". Volume 9. Russian literature. Part one. M., 1999. S. 594-603

K.I. Tyunkin. M.E. Saltykov-Shchedrin in life and work. M .: Russian word, 2001

Once the steward from a distant estate, Anton Vasilyev, having finished a report to the lady Arina Petrovna Golovleva about his trip to Moscow to collect quitrent from peasants living with passports and having already received permission from her to go to the man’s room, he suddenly somehow mysteriously hesitated in place, as if for he had some other word and deed, about which he dared and did not dare to report. Arina Petrovna, who thoroughly understood not only the slightest body movements, but also the secret thoughts of her close people, immediately worried. - What else? - she asked, looking at the steward at close range. - All, sir, - Anton Vasiliev tried to shake it off. - Do not lie! there is also! I can see it in the eyes! Anton Vasiliev, however, did not dare to answer and continued to shift from foot to foot. - Tell me, what else is there for you to do? - Arina Petrovna shouted at him in a decisive voice, - speak! don't wag your tail ... saddle bag! Arina Petrovna loved to give nicknames to the people who made up her administrative and household staff. She called Anton Vasilyev "the saddle bag" not because he was really ever noticed in betrayal, but because he was weak on the tongue. The estate, which he ruled, had as its center a significant trading village, in which there were a large number of taverns. Anton Vasiliev loved to drink tea in a tavern, to boast of the omnipotence of his mistress, and during this boasting, he imperceptibly cheated. And since Arina Petrovna was constantly in the midst of various litigations, it often happened that the talkativeness of a trusted person brought out the lady's military tricks before they could be carried out. - Yes, really ... - Anton Vasiliev muttered at last. - What? what? - Arina Petrovna was agitated. As a domineering woman and, moreover, to a great extent gifted with creativity, in one minute she drew herself a picture of all kinds of contradictions and oppositions and immediately assimilated this idea to herself so that she even turned pale and jumped out of her chair. - Stepan Vladimirich sold the house in Moscow ... - reported the bailiff with an order.- Well? - Sold, sir. - Why? as? do not think! tell me! - For the debts ... so it must be assumed! It is known that they will not sell for good deeds. - So the police sold it? court? - So it is. They say that the house went to auction in eight thousand. Arina Petrovna sank heavily into an armchair and stared out the window with her eyes. In the first minutes, the news, apparently, took her consciousness. If they had told her that Stepan Vladimirich had killed someone, that the Golovlev's peasants had rebelled and refused to go to corvee, or that serfdom was crumbling, then she would not have been so amazed. Her lips were moving, her eyes were looking into the distance, but they could not see anything. She didn’t even notice that at that very time the girl Dunyashka was running at a run past the window, covering something with an apron, and suddenly, seeing the lady, she whirled for a moment in one place and with a quiet step turned back (at another time this act would have caused whole consequence). Finally, however, she came to her senses and said: - What fun! This was followed by a few minutes of thunderous silence again. - So you say the police sold the house for eight thousand? She asked.- Yes sir. - This is a parental blessing! Good ... bastard! Arina Petrovna felt that, in view of the news she had received, she needed to make an immediate decision, but she could not think of anything, because her thoughts were confused in completely opposite directions. On the one hand, I thought: “The police have sold! after all, she did not sell in one minute! tea, inventory was, appraisal, bidding calls? She sold it for eight thousand, whereas she laid out twelve thousand for this very house, two years ago, with her own hands, like a penny! If only to know and to be in charge, one could buy it at auction for eight thousand! " On the other hand, the thought came to me and then: “The police sold for eight thousand! This is a parental blessing! Bastard! for eight thousand a parental blessing lowered! " - From whom did you hear? She finally asked, finally settling on the thought that the house had already been sold and that, consequently, the hope of acquiring it at a cheap price had been lost for her forever. - Ivan Mikhailov, the innkeeper, said. - Why didn't he warn me in time? - I was afraid, therefore. - I was afraid! so I will show him: "take some fear"! Call him from Moscow, and as soon as he appears - immediately in the recruiting presence and shave his forehead! "I was afraid"! Although serfdom was already running out, it still existed. More than once it happened to Anton Vasiliev to listen to the most peculiar orders from the lady, but her real decision was so unexpected that even he did not quite get it right. At the same time, he involuntarily recollected the nickname "peremetnaya suma". Ivan Mikhailov was a detailed peasant, about whom it could not even have occurred to him that some kind of misfortune could get over him. Moreover, it was his friend and godfather - and suddenly he became a soldier, just because he, Anton Vasiliev, like a saddle bag, could not keep his mouth shut! - Excuse me ... Ivan Mikhailitch! - he stood up. - Go ... the suitor! - Arina Petrovna shouted at him, but in such a voice that he did not even think to persist in further defense of Ivan Mikhailov. But before continuing my story, I ask the reader to get to know Arina Petrovna Golovleva and her marital status better. Arina Petrovna is a woman of about sixty, but still vigorous and accustomed to living at all her will. She behaves menacingly; single-handedly and uncontrollably manages the vast Golovlev estate, lives in solitude, prudently, almost sparingly, does not make friends with neighbors, does goodwill to the local authorities, and demands from her children that they be in such obedience to her, so that at every action they ask themselves: something will mamma say about this? In general, it has an independent, adamant and partly obstinate character, which, incidentally, is greatly facilitated by the fact that in the entire Golovlev family there is not a single person from whom it could meet with opposition. Her husband is a frivolous and drunken person (Arina Petrovna willingly says about herself that she is neither a widow nor a husband's wife); the children partly serve in St. Petersburg, partly they went to their father and, as "hateful", are not allowed to do any family business. Under these conditions, Arina Petrovna early felt lonely, so, to tell the truth, even from family life has completely lost the habit, although the word "family" does not leave her tongue and, outwardly, all her actions are exclusively guided by incessant worries about the organization of family affairs. The head of the family, Vladimir Mikhailich Golovlev, was known from a young age for his disorderly and mischievous character, and for Arina Petrovna, always distinguished by her seriousness and efficiency, he never imagined anything cute. He led an idle and idle life, most often locked himself in his office, imitated the singing of starlings, roosters, etc., and was engaged in the composition of the so-called "free poetry." In moments of frank outpourings, he boasted that he was a friend of Barkov and that the latter allegedly even blessed him on the deathbed. Arina Petrovna did not immediately fall in love with her husband's poems, called them foulness and clowning, and since Vladimir Mikhailich actually got married in order to always have a listener at hand for his poems, it is clear that the quarrels did not make them wait long. Gradually growing and becoming bitter, these disagreements ended, on the part of the wife, with complete and contemptuous indifference to her husband-jester, on the part of the husband - sincere hatred for his wife, hatred, which, however, included a considerable amount of cowardice. The husband called his wife "witch" and "devil", the wife called her husband - "windmill" and "stringless balalaika". Being in such a relationship, they enjoyed a life together for more than forty years, and it never occurred to either one or the other that such a life contained anything unnatural. Over time, Vladimir Mikhailich's mischief not only did not diminish, but even acquired an even more malicious character. Regardless of the poetic exercises in the Barkov spirit, he began to drink and willingly watched the maids in the corridor. At first, Arina Petrovna reacted to this new occupation of her husband with disgust and even with excitement (in which, however, the habit of imperiousness played more role than outright jealousy), but then she waved her hand and watched only so that the toadstool girls did not wear the master erofeich. Since then, having told herself once and for all that her husband is not her friend, she has focused all her attention exclusively on one subject: rounding off the Golovlev estate, and indeed, during her forty-year married life, she managed to multiply her fortune tenfold. With amazing patience and vigilance, she watched distant and near villages, inquired in secret about the relationship of their owners to the board of trustees and always, like snow on his head, appeared at auctions. In the whirlwind of this fanatical pursuit of acquisitions, Vladimir Mikhailich farther and farther receded into the background, and finally became completely wild. At the moment this story begins, it was already a decrepit old man who almost never left his bed, and if from time to time he left the bedroom, it was only in order to stick his head through the half-open door of the wife’s room, shout: "Damn!" - and hide again. Arina Petrovna was a little happier in her children as well. She had too independent, so to speak, bachelor nature, so that she could see in children anything but an unnecessary burden. She breathed freely only when she was alone with her accounts and economic enterprises, when no one interfered with her business conversations with the bailiffs, chiefs, housekeepers, etc. In her eyes, children were one of those fatalistic life situations, against the totality of which she she did not consider herself entitled to protest, but which nevertheless did not touch a single string of her inner being, who completely devoted herself to the countless details of life-building. There were four children: three sons and a daughter. She did not even like to talk about her eldest son and daughter; she was more or less indifferent to her youngest son, and only the middle one, Porfisch, not that she loved, but seemed to be afraid. Stepan Vladimirich, the eldest son, who is mainly referred to in this story, had a reputation in the family under the name of Stepka the dunce and Stepka the mischievous. He very early became one of the "hateful" and from childhood he played the role of either a pariah or a jester in the house. Unfortunately, he was a gifted fellow who too willingly and quickly perceived the impressions generated by the environment. From his father he took over inexhaustible mischief, from his mother - the ability to quickly guess the weaknesses of people. Thanks to the first quality, he soon became a favorite of his father, which further increased his mother's dislike for him. Often, during Arina Petrovna's absences around the house, the father and the teenager-son retired to an office decorated with a portrait of Barkov, read free poetry and gossip, and especially the "witch", that is, Arina Petrovna, got it. But the "witch" as if by instinct guessed their activities; Silently, she rode up to the porch, walked on tiptoe to the study door and overheard cheerful speeches. This was followed by the immediate and brutal beating of Stepka the dunce. But Styopka did not give up; he was insensitive to beatings or admonitions, and after half an hour he again began to play tricks. Either he will cut the kerchief of the girl Anyutka into pieces, then he will let the sleepy Vasyutka put flies in his mouth, then climb into the kitchen and pull off a pie there (Arina Petrovna, out of economy, kept the children starving), which, however, she will immediately share with her brothers. - I must kill you! - Arina Petrovna constantly repeated to him, - I will kill - and I will not answer! And the king will not punish me for this! Such constant humiliation, meeting soft, easily forgetful soil, was not in vain. As a result, it did not have anger, not protest, but formed a slavish character, addicted to buffoonery, not knowing a sense of proportion and devoid of any foresight. Such individuals willingly succumb to any influence and can become anything: drunkards, beggars, fools and even criminals. Twenty years old, Stepan Golovlev graduated from a course in one of the Moscow gymnasiums and entered the university. But his students were bitter. Firstly, his mother gave him only as much money as was required so as not to be lost from hunger; secondly, there was not the slightest urge to work in him, and instead a damned talent nestled in him, expressed mainly in the ability to imitate; thirdly, he constantly suffered from the needs of society and for a minute could not be alone with himself. Therefore, he settled on the easy role of a host and pique-assiette "and, thanks to his pliability to every thing, he soon became the favorite of the rich students. But the rich, admitting him to their environment, still understood that he was not a match for only a jester, and in this very sense his reputation was established. Once upon this ground, he naturally gravitated lower and lower, so that by the end of the 4th year he joked completely. Nevertheless, thanks to the ability to quickly grasp and remember what he heard, he passed the exam with success and received a candidate's degree. When he came to his mother with a diploma, Arina Petrovna only shrugged her shoulders and said: I am amazed! Then, after keeping him in the village for a month, she sent him to Petersburg, assigning him a hundred rubles in bank notes a month for his living. Wandering around the departments and offices began. He had no protections, no desire to pave the way through personal labor. Idle thought young man she had lost the habit of concentrating so much that even bureaucratic tests, such as memoranda and extracts from cases, turned out to be overwhelming for her. For four years Golovlev fought in Petersburg and finally had to tell himself that the hope of getting a job someday higher than a clerical official did not exist for him. In response to his complaints, Arina Petrovna wrote a formidable letter, which began with the words: "I was sure of this beforehand" and ended with an order to appear in Moscow. There, in the council of beloved peasants, it was decided to appoint Stepka the dunce to the court court, entrusting him with the supervision of a clerk who from time immemorial interceded in Golovlev's affairs. It is not known what Stepan Vladimirich did and how he behaved in the court court, but after three years he was no longer there. Then Arina Petrovna decided to take an extreme measure: she "threw out a piece to her son," which, however, at the same time, was supposed to represent a "parental blessing". This piece consisted of a house in Moscow, for which Arina Petrovna paid twelve thousand rubles. For the first time in his life, Stepan Golovlev breathed freely. The house promised to give a thousand rubles in silver of income, and in comparison with the previous one, this amount seemed to him like a real prosperity. He enthusiastically kissed mamma's hand ("that's the same, look at me, you goof! Don't expect anything else!" - said Arina Petrovna at the same time) and promised to justify the favor shown to him. But alas! he was so little used to handling money, so absurdly he understood the dimensions of real life, that the fabulous annual thousand rubles did not get long enough. In some four or five years, he completely burned out and was glad to join the militia, which was being formed at that time, as a deputy. The militia, however, only reached Kharkov, when peace was concluded, and Golovlev returned to Moscow again. His house was already sold at that time. He was wearing a militia uniform, rather shabby, but worn, on his feet - boots outside and in his pocket - a hundred rubles of money. With this capital, he started speculating, that is, he began to play cards, and lost everything for a short time. Then he began to walk among the well-to-do peasants of his mother, who lived in Moscow on their own farm; from whom he dined, from whom he begged for a quarter of tobacco, from whom he borrowed on trifles. But, finally, the moment came when he, so to speak, found himself face to face with a blank wall. He was already under forty, and he was forced to admit that further wandering existence for him was beyond his strength. There was only one way left - to Golovlevo. After Stepan Vladimirich, the eldest member of the Golovlev family was a daughter, Anna Vladimirovna, about whom Arina Petrovna also did not like to talk. The fact is that Arina Petrovna had plans for Annushka, and Annushka not only did not justify her hopes, but instead caused a scandal for the whole district. When her daughter left the institute, Arina Petrovna settled her in the village, hoping to make her a gifted house secretary and accountant, and instead Annushka, one fine night, fled from Golovlev with the cornet Ulanov and married him. - So, without parental blessing, like dogs, and got married! - Arina Petrovna lamented on this occasion. - Yes, it’s also good that hubby has circled all over the place! Another would have used - and he was! Look for him then and fistulas! And with her daughter Arina Petrovna acted just as decisively as with her hateful son: she took and "threw out a piece for her." She gave her a capital of five thousand and a village of thirty souls with a fallen estate, in which there was a blow from all the windows and there was not a single living floorboard. Two years later, the young capital lived, and the cornet fled to no one knows where, leaving Anna Vladimirovna with two twin daughters: Anninka and Lyubinka. Then Anna Vladimirovna herself died three months later, and Arina Petrovna, willy-nilly, had to shelter orphans at home. Which she did, placing the little ones in the outhouse and putting the crooked old woman Palashka on them. “God has many mercies,” she said at the same time, “God knows not what bread orphans will eat, but in my old age - consolation! God took one daughter - gave two! And at the same time she wrote to her son Porfiry Vladimirich: "As your sister lived dissolutely, she died, leaving her two puppies on my neck ..." In general, no matter how cynical this remark may seem, but justice requires admitting that both of these cases, about which the "pieces were thrown away," not only did not damage Arina Petrovna's finances, but indirectly even contributed to rounding off the Golovlev estate, reducing the number shareholders in it. For Arina Petrovna was a woman of strict rules and, once she had “thrown out a piece,” she already considered finished all her duties with regard to hateful children. Even with the thought of orphans-granddaughters, she never imagined that in time she would have to give anything to them. She tried only to squeeze out as much as possible from the small estate separated by the late Anna Vladimirovna, and put it aside in the board of trustees. And she said: “I’m adding money for the orphans, and I don’t take anything from them for feeding and leaving!” For my bread and salt, apparently, God will pay me! Finally, the youngest children, Porfiry and Pavel Vladimirichy, were in the service in St. Petersburg: the first - in the civilian part, the second - in the military. Porfiry was married, Pavel was single. Porfiry Vladimirich was known in the family under three names: Judushka, a blood-sucker and an outspoken boy, which nicknames were given to him by Stepka the dunce in childhood. From infancy, he loved to fondle his dear friend mama, stealthily kiss her on the shoulder, and sometimes make a little nap. Sometimes she would open the door of mama’s room inaudibly, quietly sneak into a corner, sit down and, as if enchanted, did not take her eyes off mama while she was writing or fiddling with bills. But Arina Petrovna, even then, was somewhat suspicious of these filial ingratiations. And then this gaze fixed on her seemed mysterious to her, and then she could not determine for herself what exactly he was exuding from himself: poison or filial piety. “And I myself can’t understand what kind of eyes he has,” she reasoned sometimes to herself. So he sprinkles with poison, and beckons! And she recalled at the same time the significant details of the time when she was still "heavy" Porfisha. Then there lived in their house a certain pious and perspicacious old man, whom they called Porfisha the Blessed One, and to whom she always turned when she wished to foresee something in the future. And this very old man, when she asked him whether the birth would soon follow and God would give her someone, a son or a daughter, did not answer her directly, but he crowed three times with a rooster and then muttered: - Cockerel, cockerel! votive marigold! The rooster cries, threatens the hen; hen - cluck-tah-tah, but it will be too late! But only. But three days later (here it is - he shouted three times!) She gave birth to a son (here it is - a cockerel!), Who was named Porfiry, in honor of the old seer ... The first half of the prophecy was fulfilled; but what could the mysterious words mean: "hen - cluck-tah-tah, but it will be too late"? - this is what Arina Petrovna was thinking about, looking from under her arm at Porfisha, while he was sitting in his corner and looking at her with his mysterious gaze. And Porfisha continued to sit quietly and meekly, and kept looking at her, looking so intently that his wide-open and motionless eyes twitched with tears. He, as it were, foresaw the doubts stirring in his mother's soul, and behaved in such a way that the most picky suspicion - and she had to admit herself unarmed in front of his meekness. Even at the risk of annoying his mother, he constantly turned around in front of her eyes, as if saying: “Look at me! I'm not hiding anything! I am all obedience and devotion, and, moreover, obedience is not only for fear, but also for conscience. " And no matter how strongly she was convinced that Porfishka the scoundrel only fawned about with her tail, and with her eyes still throws a noose, but in view of such selflessness, her heart could not stand it either. And involuntarily her hand was looking for the best piece on the platter to pass it on to her affectionate son, despite the fact that the sight of this son raised a vague alarm of something mysterious and unkind in her heart. The complete opposite with Porfiry Vladimirich was represented by his brother, Pavel Vladimirich. It was the complete personification of a person devoid of any actions. As a boy, he did not show the slightest inclination either to study, or to games, or to sociability, but he loved to live apart, in alienation from people. It used to be hammered into a corner, puffed up and began to fantasize. It seems to him that he ate oatmeal, that this made his legs thin, and he does not study. Or - that he is not Pavel the noble's son, but Davidka the shepherd, that a bologna has grown on his forehead, like Davydka's, that he clicks with an arapnik and does not study. Arina Petrovna would look and look at him, and so her mother's heart would boil. - What are you, like a mouse on a rump, pouted! - will not bear it, she will shout at him, - or from now on, the poison is acting in you! there is no way to approach mother: mother, they say, caress me, darling! Pavlusha left his corner and with slow steps, as if he was being pushed in the back, approached his mother. - Mamma, they say, - he repeated in a bass unnatural for a child, - caress me, darling! - Get out of my sight ... quiet one! do you think that you will hide in a corner, so I don’t understand? I understand right through you, my dear! I can see all your project plans at a glance! And Pavel, with the same slow step, set off back and hid again in his corner. Years passed, and from Pavel Vladimirich gradually formed that apathetic and mysteriously gloomy personality, from which, in the end result, a person devoid of actions is obtained. Perhaps he was kind, but he did no good to anyone; maybe he was not stupid, but in all his life he did not commit a single smart deed. He was hospitable, but no one flattered his hospitality; he willingly spent money, but no useful or pleasant result from these spending has ever happened for anyone; he never offended anyone, but no one imputed it to him; he was honest, but they did not hear anyone say: how honestly did Pavel Golovlev act in such and such a case! To top it all off, he often snapped at his mother and at the same time feared her like fire. I repeat: he was a sullen man, but his sullenness hid the absence of actions - and nothing more. In adulthood, the difference in character between the two brothers was most pronounced in their relationship to their mother. Every week Judaska neatly sent to mamma an extensive message, in which he informed her at length about all the details of Petersburg life and, in the most refined expressions, assured her of disinterested filial devotion. Paul wrote rarely and briefly, and sometimes even mysteriously, as if using tongs to pull out every word from himself. “Money for such and such a period, invaluable friend mamma, received from your trusted peasant Erofeev,” Porfiry Vladimirich informed, for example, “and for sending them, for use on my maintenance, according to you, dear mamma , with permission, I bring the most sensitive gratitude and kiss your hands with unfeigned filial devotion. I am tormented by only one sadness and doubt: are you not bothering your precious health too much with continuous worries about satisfying not only your needs, but also our whims ?! I don’t know about my brother, but I ”... and so on. And Pavel, on the same occasion, expressed himself:“ I received so much money for such and such a period, dear parent, and, according to my calculations, should I'll get another six and a half rubles, for which I ask you to most respectfully excuse me. " When Arina Petrovna sent reprimands to children for extravagance (this happened quite often, although there were no serious reasons), Porfisha always humbly submitted to these remarks and wrote: “I know, my dear friend mama, that you are bearing unbearable burdens for us, your unworthy children. ; I know that very often by our behavior we do not justify your maternal concerns about us, and, worst of all, due to the delusion inherent in humans, we even forget about this, for which I bring you my sincere filial apology, hoping over time to get rid of this vice and be , in use sent by you, invaluable friend mama, for the maintenance and other expenses of money prudent. " And Paul answered like this: “Dearest parent! although you have not paid your debts for me yet, I freely accept the reprimand in the name of me, in which I ask you to accept the assurance most sensitively. " Even to the letter of Arina Petrovna, with a notice of the death of her sister Anna Vladimirovna, both brothers responded differently. Porfiry Vladimirich wrote: “The news of the death of my dear sister and good childhood friend Anna Vladimirovna struck my heart with grief, which grief intensified even more at the thought that a new cross was being sent to you, dear friend mama, in the face of two orphans-babies. Is it still not enough that you, our common benefactress, deny yourself everything and, not sparing your health, direct all your forces towards this, in order to provide your family not only with what is needed, but also superfluous? Indeed, although it is sinful, sometimes you involuntarily whine. And the only refuge, in my opinion, for you, my dear, in this case, is to remember as often as possible that Christ himself endured. " Paul wrote: “I received the news of the death of my sister, who perished as a sacrifice. However, I hope that the Almighty will reassure her in his entryway, although this is not known. " Arina Petrovna reread these letters of her sons and kept trying to guess which of them would be the villain for her. He will read the letter of Porfiry Vladimirich, and it seems that he is the most villain. - Look how he writes! Look how he twirls his tongue! - she exclaimed, - it's not for nothing that Styopka the dunce called him Judas! Not a single word is true! he’s lying! and "my dear friend mama", and about my burdens, and about my cross ... he does not feel anything of this! Then he starts writing Pavel Vladimirich’s letter, and again it seems that he is her future villain. - Stupid, stupid, but watch how stealthily the mother trumpets! "In what I ask you to accept the assurance most sensitively ...", you are welcome! Here I’ll show you what it means to “receive an assurance most sensitively”! I’ll throw you a piece like Styopka the dunce - so you’ll know then how I understand your “assurances”! And in conclusion, a truly tragic cry escaped from her mother's breast: - And for whom am I saving up all this break! for whom do I reserve! I do not sleep enough, I do not eat a piece ... for whom ?! It was marital status Golovlev at the moment when the bailiff Anton Vasiliev reported to Arina Petrovna about the squandering of the "thrown piece" by Stepka the dunce, which, due to its cheap sale, was already receiving the special meaning of "parental blessing." Arina Petrovna was sitting in the bedroom and could not come to her senses. Something was stirring inside her, of which she could not clearly understand. Whether by some miracle the pity for the hateful but nevertheless her son was involved here, or only a naked feeling of offended autocracy spoke here - this could not be determined by the most experienced psychologist: to such an extent all feelings and sensations were mixed up and quickly replaced in her. Finally, from the general mass of accumulated ideas, the fear that the "hateful" would again sit on her neck stood out more clearly than others. "Anyutka has imposed her puppies, but here's another goof ..." - she calculated mentally. She sat for a long time in this way, without saying a word and looking out the window at one point. Dinner arrived, which she hardly touched; come to say: welcome the master of vodka! - she, without looking, threw the key to the pantry. After dinner, she went into the figurative room, ordered all the lamps to be lit, and shut up, having previously ordered to heat the bath. All these were signs that undoubtedly proved that the lady was "angry," and therefore everything in the house suddenly fell silent, as if she had died. The maids walked on tiptoe; housekeeper Akulina pushed in like a madman: it was appointed to cook jam after dinner, and now the time has come, the berries are cleaned, ready, but there is no order or refusal from the lady; the gardener Matvey came to ask if it was time to pick the peaches, but in the girl's room they poked at him so much that he immediately retreated. After praying to God and washing herself in the bathhouse, Arina Petrovna felt somewhat at peace and again demanded Anton Vasilyev to answer. - Well, what does the dunce do? She asked. - Moscow is great - and it doesn’t come out in a year! - Why, tea, drink, eat? - They feed around their peasants. From whom they will dine, from whom they will beg for a dime for tobacco. - Who allowed to give? - Have mercy, madam! Little peasants really take offense! They serve to strangers' have-nots, let alone refuse to their masters! - Here I am already for them ... for the clerks! I will send the dunce to your fiefdom, and support him with the whole society at your own expense! “All your power, madam. - What? what did you say? - All, they say, your power, madam. If you order it, we will feed it! - That's it ... let's feed! Talk to me, but don't talk! Silence. But Anton Vasiliev not without reason received the nickname of the saddle bag from the lady. He cannot bear it and again begins to mark time, burning with the desire to report something. - And what a procurator, too! - he finally says, - they say how he came back from the campaign, brought a hundred rubles of money with him. A hundred rubles is not a lot of money, but you could live on it for some time ...- Well? - To get better, you see, I thought I started a scam ... - Speak, don’t think! - In the German, chu, I took the meeting. I thought to find the fool in the cards to beat, but instead I fell for the clever one myself. He was on his way, but in the hallway, they say, was detained. That there was money - everything turned out! - Tea, and the sides got it? - There was everything. The next day he comes to Ivan Mikhailich, and he himself talks. And it’s even surprising: he laughs ... funny! as if they stroked him on the head! - Nothing for him! if only he did not appear in front of me! - And we must assume that it will be so. - What you! Yes, I will not let him on the doorstep! - It’s not otherwise that it will be so! - Anton Vasiliev repeats, - and Ivan Mikhailich said that he blurted out: a Sabbath! says, I'll go to the old woman's dry bread! Yes, madam, if to tell the truth, he has nowhere to go, except for this place. For his peasants, he is not in Moscow for a long time. Clothes are also needed, calm ... This was precisely what Arina Petrovna was afraid of; this was precisely the essence of that vague idea that unconsciously disturbed her. “Yes, he will appear, he has nowhere else to go - this cannot be avoided! He will be here, forever in front of her eyes, damned, hateful, forgotten! Why then did she throw the “piece” to him at that time? She thought that having received “what follows,” he sunk into eternity - but he is being reborn! He will come, he will demand, he will call out everyone's eyes with his beggarly appearance. And it will be necessary to satisfy his requirements, because he is an arrogant man, ready for any riot. “He” cannot be hidden under lock and key; “He” is capable of appearing in the rabble in front of strangers, capable of making a brawl, running to his neighbors and telling them all the secrets of Golovlev's affairs. Should I send him to the Suzdal Monastery? - But who knows, well, is there still this Suzdal monastery, and does it really exist in order to free upset parents from the sight of obstinate children? They also say that there is a restraint house ... but there is a restraint house - well, how will you bring him there, this forty-year-old stallion? " In a word, Arina Petrovna was completely at a loss at the mere thought of the hardships that threaten to agitate her peaceful existence with the arrival of Stepka the dunce. - I'll send him to your estate! feed at your own expense! - she threatened the bailiff, - not on the patrimonial account, but on her own! - Why so, madam? - And for not croaking. Kra! kra! "Not otherwise, that it will be so" ... went out of my sight ... the crow! Anton Vasiliev turned around to the left, but Arina Petrovna again stopped him. - Stop! wait a minute! so is it true that he sharpened his skis at Golovlevo? She asked. - Shall I, madam, lie! He was right when he said: I’ll go to the old woman to eat dry bread! - So I'll show him what bread the old woman has in store for him! - Yes, madam, he will not make money from you for long!- What is it? - Yes, he coughs very hard ... everything grabs onto his left breast ... It won't heal! - Something like that, my dear, live even longer! and will outlive us all! Coughs and coughs - what is he, a lanky stallion, doing! Well, we'll see there. Go now: I need to make an order. All evening, Arina Petrovna thought and finally decided: to convene a family council to resolve the goofy fate. Such constitutional manners were not in her morals, but this time she decided to retreat from the traditions of autocracy in order to protect herself from criticism by the decision of the whole family. kind people... However, she did not doubt the outcome of the upcoming conference, and therefore with a light spirit sat down to the letters, which ordered Porfiry and Pavel Vladimirich to immediately arrive at Golovlevo. While all this was happening, the culprit of the mess, Stepka the dunce, was already moving from Moscow towards Golovlev. He sat down in Moscow, near Rogozhskaya, in one of the so-called "share houses", in which in the past they traveled, and even now sometimes small merchants and peasants who trade, travel to their place on leave. "Delezhan" rode in the direction of Vladimir, and the same compassionate innkeeper Ivan Mikhailich was carrying Stepan Vladimirich at his own expense, taking a seat for him and paying for his grub for the entire journey. “So you, Stepan Vladimirich, do just that: get off on the turn, and on foot, as it is in a suit, and speak up to mamma! - Ivan Mikhailitch agreed with him. - Well, well, well! - Stepan Vladimirich also confirmed, - how much of a turn is it - fifteen miles on foot to walk! I'll grab it instantly! In dust, in manure - and so I will appear! - If mamma sees in a suit - maybe she will regret it! - Regret! how not to regret! Mother - after all, she is a kind old woman! Stepan Golovlev is not yet forty years old, but outwardly he cannot be given less than fifty. Life had worn him out to such an extent that it did not leave on him any sign of a noble's son, not the slightest trace of the fact that he was once at the university and that the educational word of science was also addressed to him. This is an overly long, unkempt, almost unwashed fellow, thin from lack of nutrition, with a sunken chest, with long, ragged arms. His face is swollen, the hair on his head and beard is disheveled, with severe graying, his voice is loud, but hoarse, with a cold, his eyes are bulging and sore, partly from excessive use of vodka, partly from being in the wind. He is wearing a shabby and completely worn-out gray militia, the braids from which have been ripped off and sold for burning; on the legs - worn, reddish and patched boots worn out; from behind the open militia one can see a shirt, almost black, as if smeared with soot - a shirt that he himself, with true militia cynicism, calls a "flea". He looks sullenly, sullenly, but this gloom does not express internal discontent, but is a consequence of some vague anxiety that just a minute later, and he, like a worm, will die of hunger. He speaks incessantly, jumping from one subject to another without communication; speaks both when Ivan Mikhailitch listens to him, and when the latter falls asleep to the music of his dialect. He is terribly embarrassed to sit. Four people fit in the "dividing line", and therefore they have to sit with their legs twisted, which has been producing unbearable pain in the knees for three or four miles. Yet despite the pain, he constantly speaks. Clouds of dust burst into the side openings of the wagon; from time to time oblique rays of the sun creep in there, and suddenly, like a fire, they will burn the entire interior of the "divided", and he says everything. - Yes, brother, I did bite in my age of grief, - he says, - it's time to go to the side! Not the volume, after all, I am her, but a piece of bread, tea, how can you not find it! How are you, Ivan Mikhailich, thinking about this? - Your mamma has a lot of pieces! - Just not about me - is that what you mean? Yes, my friend, she has a whole lot of money, but for me a copper nickel is a pity! And after all, she always hated me, a witch! For what? Well, now, brother, you are naughty! bribes are smooth from me, I'll take it by the throat! If he wants to kick me out - I won't go! He will not give - I will take it myself! I, brother, have served the fatherland - now everyone is obliged to help me! I'm afraid of one thing: he won't give tobacco - it's bad! - Yes, apparently, you will have to say goodbye to tobacco! - So I'm the steward by the sides! can a bald devil and give the master! - Give why not give! Well, how can she, your mama, forbid the bailiff? “Well, then I’m completely mate; only one luxury remained from my former splendor - this is tobacco! I, brother, as with the money, smoked a quarter of Zhukov a day! - So you will have to say goodbye to vodka too! - Also nasty. And vodka is good for me even for my health - it breaks wet. We, brother, walked like a campaign near Sevastopol - we didn’t even reach Serpukhov, and we didn’t get enough of our brother!- Tea, have you gone nuts? - I do not remember. It seems that there was something. I, brother, reached Kharkov, but for the life of me - I don't remember anything. I only remember that they walked in villages and cities, and that in Tula the tax farmer spoke to us. I shed a tear, you scoundrel! Yes, at that time of grief our mother, Orthodox Russia, did it! Tax dealers, contractors, commissioners - as soon as God saved! - But your mamma and then a profit came out. From our patrimony, more than half of the warriors did not return home, so for each, they say, now they are ordered to issue a record recruitment receipt. But she, the receipt, is in the treasury with over four hundred worth. - Yes, brother, our mother is clever! She should have been a minister, and not skim the froth off the jam in Golovlev! Do you know what! She was unfair to me, she offended me - and I respect her! Smart as hell, that's what's important! If not she - what would we be now? If only Golovlev would have been, one hundred and one souls and a half! And she - look what a damn abyss she bought! - Your brothers will be with the capital! - There will be. So I will have nothing to do with it - that's true! Yes, I flew out, brother, I'm in the pipe! And the brothers will be rich, especially the Blood Drinker. This one will fit into the soul without soap. However, he, the old witch, will eventually solve her; he will suck the property and capital out of her - I am a seer for these matters! Here is Paul the brother - that soul-man! he will send me tobacco on the sly - you will see! As soon as I arrive in Golovlevo - now he has a cidula: so and so, dear brother - calm down! Eh-eh, ehma! if I were rich! - What would you do? - Firstly, now I would have made you rich ... - Why me! You are about yourself, and I am already satisfied, by the grace of your mother. - Well, no - this is, brother, attànde! - I would make you commander-in-chief over all estates! Yes, friend, you fed and warmed the servant - thank you! If it weren’t you, I would have ponted now with a pedestrian to the house of my ancestors! And now I would be free to kick you in the teeth, and I would open all my treasures in front of you - drink, eat and be merry! What did you think of me, buddy? - No, you’re talking about me, sir, leave it. What else would you do if you were rich? - Secondly, now I would have started a little thing. In Kursk, I went to serve a prayer service to the mistress, so I saw one ... ah, a good thing! Believe it, not a single minute was for her to calmly stand still! - And maybe she would not have gone into things? - And what is the money for! despicable metal for what? A little one hundred thousand - take two hundred! I, brother, if I have money, will not regret anything, just to live for my own pleasure! I must confess to tell her, even at that time, through the corporal, I promised three little ones - five, you bastard, I asked! - And five, apparently, did not happen? “And I don’t know, brother, how to say. I tell you: everything is as if I saw it in a dream. Maybe I even had it, but I forgot. All the way, two whole months - I don't remember anything! Didn't it happen to you? But Ivan Mikhailitch is silent. Stepan Vladimirich peers and makes sure that his companion is nodding his head regularly and, at times, when his nose almost touches his knees, he starts somehow absurdly and starts nodding again in time. - Ehma! - he says, - you already got seasick! on the side you ask! You have grown fat, brother, in teas and grub in taverns! And I still have no sleep! I have no sleep - and the Sabbath! What would be now, however, what kind of stunt to undertake! Is it from this grape fruit ... Golovlev looks around and makes sure that the other passengers are asleep. The merchant who sits next to him is beating his head on the crossbar, but he is still asleep. And his face became glossy, as if varnished, and the flies were all around his mouth. “And what if all these flies were to be escorted to him in the khail - that would be tea, the sky seemed like a sheepskin!” - a happy thought suddenly dawns on Golovlev, and he already begins to creep up to the merchant with his hand in order to carry out his plan, but halfway through the journey he remembers something and stops. - No, it's full of pranks - basta! Sleep, friends, and rest! And while I ... and where did he put half a stock? Bah! here he is, my dear! Get in, get in here! Spa-si, go-o-spodi, your people! - he sings in an undertone, taking the vessel out of the canvas bag attached to the side of the carriage, and putting the neck to his mouth, - well, now, okay! warmth became! Or more? No, okay ... it will still be about twenty miles to the station, I will have time to stumble ... or else? Oh, take her ashes, this vodka! You will see half a shtof - and it beckons! It's bad to drink, and you can't not drink either - that's why there is no sleep! If only a dream, devil take it, overcame me! Gurgling a few more sips from the neck, he puts half the stock back in its original place and begins to fill the pipe. - Important! - he says, - first we drank, and now we'll smoke the pipes! He won’t give me tobacco, witch, he won’t give me this - he said it right. Will there be anything? Leftovers, tea, some from the table will be sent! Ehma! we also had money - and there is none! There was a man - and he is not! So that's all in this world! today you are both full and drunk, you live for your pleasure, you smoke a pipe ...

And tomorrow - where are you, man?

However, it would be necessary to have something to eat. You drink and drink, like a barrel with a flaw, but you can't eat it through. And the doctors say that drinking is beneficial when there is also a useful snack with it, as His Grace Smaragd said when we passed through Oboyan. Through Oboyan? And the devil only knows, maybe through Kromy! Not that, however, is the point, but how to get snacks now. I remember that he put sausage in a bag and three French breads! Probably regretted buying caviar! Look how he sleeps, what songs he brings out with his nose! Tea, and grabbed the provisions for myself!

He fumbles cool himself and does not fumble for anything. - Ivan Mikhailitch! and Ivan Mikhailitch! He calls out. Ivan Mikhailitch wakes up and for a minute does not seem to understand how he found himself vis-a-vis with the master. - And I just had a dream start! He says finally. - Nothing, friend, sleep! I just ask, where is the bag of provisions hidden here? - Did you want to eat? but first, tea, you need to drink! - And that's the point! where have you half a shtof? After drinking, Stepan Vladimirich takes on the sausage, which turns out to be hard as a stone, salty, like salt itself, and clothed in such a strong bubble that you need to resort to the sharp end of a knife to pierce it. - White fish would be good now, - says apprx. - Excuse me, sir, completely out of memory. I remembered all morning, I even said to my wife: remind of the white fish without fail - and now, as if a sin had happened! - Nothing, and we'll eat the sausages. We went on a hike - or we ate. Here is papa told me: an Englishman and an Englishman made a bet that he would eat a dead cat - and ate it!- Shh ... ate it? - I ate it. He only felt sick after! Rum was cured. I drank two bottles in one gulp - as if it were gone. And then another Englishman gambled that he would feed on sugar for a whole year.- Won? - No, I didn't live two days to a year - I died! What are you doing yourself! Would you beat vodka? - I never drank. - Are you pouring tea alone? Not good, brother; that's why your belly grows. With tea, you also need to be careful: drink a cup, and cover with a glass on top. Tea accumulates wet, and vodka breaks. So, what? - I do not know; you are scientists, you know better. - That's it. We walked like a hike - we had no time to bother with teas and coffee. And vodka is a sacred thing: he unscrewed the mannerism, poured, drank - and the Sabbath. Soon they were driving us too painfully at that time, so soon that I hadn't bathed for ten days! - You have accepted a lot, sir! - A lot, not a lot, but try to do it on a pole! Well, yes, there was still nothing to go forward: they donate, they feed them lunches, they have plenty of wine. But how to go back - they have already stopped celebrating! Golovlev with effort nibbles the sausage and finally chews one piece. - Salty, brother, sausage! - he says, - however, I am unpretentious! Mother, after all, too, will not regale with pickles: a plate of shchets and a cup of porridge - that's all! - God is merciful! Maybe he'll also have a pie for the holiday! - No tea, no tobacco, no vodka - you said that right. They say that now she began to play fools to love - is that really it? Well, he will call you to play, and he will give you some tea. And as for other things - ay, brother! We stopped at the station for four hours to feed the horses. Golovlev managed to finish off the half-shtoff, and he was overcome by severe hunger. The passengers went into the hut and settled down to dinner. After wandering around the courtyard, looking into the backyard and into the nursery to the horses, scaring away the pigeons and even trying to fall asleep, Stepan Vladimirich finally becomes convinced that the best thing for him is to follow the other passengers into the hut. There, on the table, cabbage soup is already smoking, and on the side, on a wooden tray, lies a large piece of beef, which Ivan Mikhailich crumbles into small pieces. Golovlev sits down a little at a distance, lights his pipe and for a long time does not know what to do about his satiety. - Bread and salt, gentlemen! - finally, he says, - cabbage soup, it seems, are fat? - Nothing cabbage soup! - responds Ivan Mikhailich, - yes, sir, you would ask yourself! - No, I'm just by the way, I'm full! - What are you fed up! They ate a piece of sausage, and with her, with the damned, the stomach puffs up even more. Eat! So I will tell you to set a table on the sidelines for you - eat to your health! Hostess! cover the master on the sidelines - like this! Passengers start eating in silence and only mysteriously exchange glances among themselves. Golovlev guesses that he was "infiltrated", although he, not without impudence, played the master all the way and called Ivan Mikhailich his treasurer. His eyebrows are furrowed, and tobacco smoke is still pouring out of his mouth. He is ready to refuse food, but the demands of hunger are so urgent that he somehow predatory pounces on the cup of cabbage placed in front of him and instantly empties it. Along with satiety, self-confidence returns to him, and he, as if nothing had happened, says, addressing Ivan Mikhailich: - Well, brother treasurer, you must pay for me, and I will go to the hayloft to talk to Khrapovitsky! Waddling, he goes to the sennik and this time, since his stomach is burdened, he falls asleep in a heroic sleep. At five o'clock he is back on his feet. Seeing that the horses are standing at the empty manger and scratching their muzzles on the edges of them, he begins to wake the driver. - Dying, canalya! - he shouts, - we are in a hurry, but he sees pleasant dreams! This is how it goes to the station from which the road turns to Golovlevo. Only then does Stepan Vladimirich settle down somewhat. He clearly becomes discouraged and becomes silent. This time, Ivan Mikhailitch encourages him and, above all, convinces him to hang up. - You, sir, as you approach the estate, throw your pipe into the nettles! after you will find! Finally, the horses that are supposed to carry Ivan Mikhailitch on are ready. The moment of separation comes. - Goodbye, brother! - says Golovlev in a trembling voice, kissing Ivan Mikhailitch, - she will seize me! - God is merciful! you, too, do not get scared too much! - Stuck! - repeats Stepan Vladimirich in such a convincing tone that Ivan Mikhailich involuntarily lowers his eyes. Having said this, Golovlev sharply turns in the direction of the country road and begins to walk, leaning on a knotty stick, which he had previously cut from the tree. Ivan Mikhailich watches him for a while and then rushes after him. - That's what, sir! - he says, catching up with him, - just now, as I was cleaning your militia, I saw three little ones in my side pocket - don't drop them inadvertently! Stepan Vladimirich apparently hesitates and does not know what to do in this case. Finally, he stretches out his hand to Ivan Mikhailitch and says through tears: - I understand ... to the clerk for tobacco ... thank you! And as for that ... she will seize me, dear friend! just remember my word - zayest! Golovlev finally turns to face the lane, and five minutes later his gray militia cap flashed far away, now disappearing, now suddenly appearing from behind a thicket of forest thickets. The time is still early, the sixth hour at the beginning; a golden morning mist winds over the country road, barely letting in the rays of the sun that has just appeared on the horizon; the grass glistens; the air is filled with the smells of spruce, mushrooms and berries; the road zigzags through the lowland, which is teeming with countless flocks of birds. But Stepan Vladimiritch does not notice anything: all the frivolity suddenly jumped off him, and he goes, as if to the Last Judgment. One thought overwhelms his entire being to the brim: another three or four hours - and there is nowhere else to go. He recalls his old Golovlev life, and it seems to him that the doors of a damp basement are opening before him, that as soon as he steps over the threshold of these doors, they will slam shut now, and then it's all over. Other details are also recalled, although they do not directly concern him, but undoubtedly characterize Golovlev's orders. Here is Uncle Mikhail Petrovich (in common parlance "Bear the Brawler"), who also belonged to the number of "hateful" and whom grandfather Pyotr Ivanovich imprisoned with his daughter in Golovlevo, where he lived in a man's room and ate from the same cup with the dog Trezorka. Here is Aunt Vera Mikhailovna, who, out of mercy, lived in the Golovlev estate with her brother Vladimir Mikhailich and who died "of moderation" because Arina Petrovna reproached her with every piece she eaten at dinner and every log of firewood used to heat her room. The same is approximately to be experienced by him. In his imagination, an endless series of dull days drowning in some yawning gray abyss flickers - and he involuntarily closes his eyes. From now on, he will be alone with an evil old woman, and not even evil, but only imperious authority numb in apathy. This old woman will seize him, not with torture, but oblivion. There is no one to say a word to, nowhere to run - everywhere she is, domineering, numb, despising. The thought of this inevitable future filled him with melancholy to such an extent that he stopped near a tree and beat his head against it for some time. His whole life, full of antics, idleness, buffoonery, suddenly seemed to light up in front of his mental eye. He is now going to Golovlevo, he knows what awaits him there, and nevertheless he goes, and cannot but go. He has no other road. The very last of people can do something for himself, can get himself bread - he is alone nothing can. This thought seemed to wake up in him for the first time. And before he happened to think about the future and draw for himself all kinds of prospects, but these were always the prospects for free contentment and never - the prospects of labor. And now he faced retribution for the intoxication in which his past had sunk without a trace. Reckoning is bitter, expressed in one terrible word: stuck! It was about ten o'clock in the morning when the white Golovlev bell tower appeared from behind the forest. Stepan Vladimirich's face turned pale, his hands shook: he took off his cap and crossed himself. He remembered the gospel parable of prodigal son returning home, but he immediately realized that, as applied to him, such memories constituted only one deception. Finally, he found with his eyes a boundary post set near the road and found himself on Golovlev's land, on that hateful land that gave birth to him hateful, nursed him hateful, released him hateful on all four sides, and now, hateful, again takes him into its bosom. The sun was already high and blazing mercilessly on the endless fields of Golovlev. But he turned pale more and more and felt that he was beginning to shiver. Finally he reached the churchyard, and then his cheerfulness finally left him. The manor house looked out from the trees so peacefully, as if nothing special was happening in it; but the sight of her had an effect on him of a jellyfish's head. There he fancied a coffin. Coffin! coffin! coffin! He repeated unconsciously to himself. And he did not dare to go straight to the estate, but first went to the priest and sent him to inform him of his arrival and to find out if his mother would receive him. At the sight of him, the butt spun and fussed about the eggs; the village boys crowded around him and looked at the master with amazed eyes; the peasants, passing by, silently took off their hats and somehow mysteriously looked at him; An old courtyard even ran up and asked the master to kiss the hand. Everyone understood that the hateful man in front of them, who had come to a hateful place, had come forever, and there was no way out for him, except with feet first on the churchyard. And everyone did it at the same time, both pitiful and terrible. Finally the priest came and said that "mamma are ready to receive" Stepan Vladimirich. In ten minutes he was already there. Arina Petrovna greeted him solemnly and sternly and measured him from head to toe with an icy gaze; but she did not allow herself any useless reproaches. And she didn’t let her into the rooms, but on the girl’s porch she met each other and parted, ordering to escort the young master through another porch to papa. The old man dozed in a bed, covered with a white blanket, in a white cap, all white as a dead man. When he saw him, he woke up and laughed idiotically. - What, my dear! caught in the clutches of the witch! He shouted as Stepan Vladimirich kissed his hand. Then he crowed like a rooster, burst out laughing again, and repeated several times in a row: “I’ll eat it!” eat! eat! - Eat! - like an echo, echoed in his soul. His predictions came true. He was placed in a special room in the outbuilding in which the office was located. There they brought him linen from home canvas and an old papa's robe, in which he put on immediately. The crypt doors opened, let him in, and - slammed shut. A series of languid, imageless days stretched, one after another drowning in the gray, gaping abyss of time. Arina Petrovna did not receive him; he was not allowed to see his father either. Three days later, the steward Finogey Ipatych announced to him from his mother a "position", which consisted in the fact that he would receive a table and clothes and, moreover, a pound of Faler a month. He listened to mama's will and only remarked: - Look, you old! She sniffed that Zhukov was two rubles, and Faler was worth ninety rubles, and then she took ten kopecks in banknotes a month! True, she was going to submit to the beggar on my account! The signs of moral sobering that had appeared in those hours, while he approached Golovlev by country road, disappeared somewhere again. Frivolity again came into its own, and at the same time, reconciliation with the "mama's position" followed. The future, hopeless and hopeless, once flashed in his mind and filled him with trepidation, every day became more and more clouded with fog and, finally, completely ceased to exist. An urgent day, with its cynical nakedness, appeared on the stage, and it appeared so importunately and arrogantly that it completely filled all thoughts, the whole being. And what role can the thought of the future play when the course of all life is irrevocably and in the smallest details already decided in the mind of Arina Petrovna? For days he walked up and down the allotted room, not letting his pipe out of his mouth and singing some scraps of songs, and the church tunes were suddenly replaced by fluffy ones, and vice versa. When there was a Zemsky in the office, he went to him and calculated the income received by Arina Petrovna. - And where does she take a lot of money! - he wondered, counting to more than eighty thousand on the banknote, - I know that he sends not so many brothers to his brothers, she lives stingily, feeds his father with salty scraps ... To the pawnshop! there is nowhere else to put it in a pawnshop. Sometimes Finogey Ipatych himself came to the office with rent, and then on the office table the very money that Stepan Vladimirich's eyes were so bright with would be laid out in bundles. - Look what an abyss of money! - he exclaimed, - and everyone will go to her in hilo! I don’t have to give my son a pack! they say, my son, who is in sorrow! Here's to you for wine and tobacco! And then endless and full of cynicism began conversations with Yakov-Zemsky about how to soften the mother's heart so that she would not expect a soul in him. “I had a bourgeois acquaintance in Moscow,” Golovlev said, “so he knew the“ word ”... Sometimes his mother didn’t want to give him money, he would say this“ word ”... And now he will start twisting it all , arms, legs - in a word, everything! - Corruption, therefore, whatever he let go! - Yakov-Zemsky guessed. - Well, it’s as you want it, but only the true truth is that there is such a “word”. And then another person said: take, he says, a living frog and put it at midnight in the anthill; by morning the ants will eat it all up, only one bone will remain; Take this bone, and as long as it is in your pocket - ask any woman what you want, you will not be denied anything. - Well, you can do it even now! - That's it, brother, that first you need to impose a curse on yourself! If it weren’t this ... it’s something the witch would have danced like a petty demon in front of me. Whole hours were spent in such conversations, but funds were still not found. That's all - either I had to impose a curse on myself, or sell my soul to the devil. As a result, there was nothing else to do but to live in a "mama's position", correcting him with some arbitrary extortions from the village bosses, whom Stepan Vladimirich without exception imposed a tribute in his favor, in the form of tobacco, tea and sugar. He was fed extremely poorly. As a rule, they brought in the remains of Mama's dinner, and since Arina Petrovna was moderate to the point of stinginess, it is natural that little was left for his share. This was especially painful for him, because since wine became a forbidden fruit for him, his appetite quickly increased. From morning to evening he was starving and only thought about how to eat. I watched for hours when mamma was resting, ran into the kitchen, even looked into the room and looked for something everywhere. From time to time he sat by the open window and waited for someone to pass. If a peasant of his own was passing by, he would stop him and impose a tribute: an egg, a cheesecake, etc. Even at the first meeting, Arina Petrovna, in short words, found out to him the full program of his life. - As long as - live! - she said, - here's a corner for you in the office, you will drink and eat from my table, but on other things - do not be angry, my dear! I've never had any pickles, and I won't start for you at all. Now the brothers will come already: what position they will advise for you in between - so I will do with you. I myself do not want to take sin on my soul, as the brothers decide - so be it! And now he was looking forward to the arrival of the brothers. But at the same time, he did not think at all about what impact this visit would have on his further fate (apparently, he decided that there was nothing to think about), but he only wondered whether brother Pavel would bring him tobacco, and how much. ... “Or maybe he’ll pay off the money! - he added mentally, - Porfishka-blood-drinking - he will not give, but Pavel ... I will tell him: give him, brother, who served for wine ... will! how, tea, do not give! " Time passed, and he did not notice him. It was absolute indolence, with which he, however, hardly weighed down. Only in the evenings was it boring, because the Zemsky would go home at eight o'clock, and for him Arina Petrovna would not let go of the candles, on the grounds that you could walk up and down the room without candles. But he soon got used to this too, and even fell in love with the darkness, because in the darkness his imagination played out more strongly and carried him far away from the hateful Golovlev. One thing worried him: his heart was restless and somehow strangely fluttered in his chest, especially when he went to bed. Sometimes he jumped out of bed, as if stunned, and ran around the room, holding his hand on the left side of his chest. “Eh, if only to freeze! - he thought at the same time, - no, in fact, I will not die! Maybe..." But when one morning the Zemsky mysteriously reported to him that the brothers had arrived at night, he involuntarily shuddered and changed in his face. Something childish suddenly woke up in him; I wanted to run to the house as soon as possible, to see how they were dressed, what beds were made for them, and whether they had the same travel bags as he had seen with one militia captain; I wanted to hear how they would talk to mamma, to see what they would serve them at dinner. In a word, I wanted to once again join the life that so stubbornly swept him away from herself, rush to her mother's feet, beg her forgiveness and then, with joy, perhaps, eat a well-fed calf. Everything was still in the house, but he already ran to the chef in the kitchen and found out what had been ordered for dinner: for a hot cabbage soup, a small pot, and yesterday's soup ordered to warm up, for a cold one - a salted piece of bread and two pairs of cutlets on the side, on the roast - lamb and four bekasiks on the side, on the cake - a raspberry pie with cream. - Yesterday's soup, linen and lamb - this, brother, hateful! - he said to the cook, - I suppose they won't give me a cake either! “It’s as it pleases mamma, sir. - Ehma! And there was a time that I also ate great snipe! ate, brother! Once, with Lieutenant Gremykin, he even made a bet that I would eat fifteen great snipes in a row - and won! Only after that, for a whole month, I could not look at them without disgust! - And now and again would you eat? - Will not give! And why, it seems, regret! Great snipe is a free bird: neither feed it, nor look after it - it lives on its own account! And the great snipe not bought, and the ram not bought - and here you go! the witch knows that the great snipe is tastier than lamb - well, it won't! It will rot, but will not give! And what has been ordered for breakfast? - Liver ordered, mushrooms in sour cream, juice ... - You would at least send me a bit ... try, brother! - We must try. And you are, sir. Well, when the brothers sit down for breakfast, send a zemstvo here: he will carry you a couple of pieces in his bosom. Stepan Vladimirich waited all morning to see if the brothers would come, but the brothers did not come. Finally, at about eleven o'clock, the Zemsky brought the two promised juices and reported that the brothers had just finished breakfast and locked themselves in the bedroom with their mother. Arina Petrovna greeted her sons solemnly, dejected with grief. Two girls supported her by the arms; gray hair strands out from under the white cap, his head drooped and swayed from side to side, his legs barely dragged. In general, in the eyes of the children, she loved to play the role of a respectable and dejected mother, and in these cases she dragged her legs with difficulty and demanded that she be supported under the arms of the girl. Stepka the dunce called such ceremonial receptions - the bishop's service, the mother - the bishop, and the girls Polka and Yulka - the bishops' staff. But since it was already two o'clock in the morning, the meeting took place without words. Silently, she gave the children a kissing hand, silently kissed and crossed them, and when Porfiry Vladimirich expressed his readiness to cuddle with his dear friend mama for the rest of the night, she waved her hand, saying: - Go! take a break from the road! no time to talk now, we'll talk tomorrow. The next day, in the morning, both sons went to papa's pen to kiss, but papa did not give a pen. He lay on the bed with his eyes closed, and when the children entered, he shouted: "Have you come to judge the tax collector? .. out, the Pharisees ... out!" Nevertheless, Porfiry Vladimirich left papa's office agitated and tearful, and Pavel Vladimirich, like a "truly insensitive idol," only picked his nose with his finger. - He's not good with you, dear friend mamma! oh, how not good! - Porfiry Vladimirich exclaimed, throwing himself on his mother's chest. - Is it very weak today? - So weak! so weak! He's not your tenant! - Well, it will creak again! - No, my dear, no! And although your life has never been particularly joyful, but how do you think that so many blows at once ... really, you even wonder how you have the strength to endure these trials! - Well, my friend, and you will endure, if God pleases! you know, in the Scripture it says: bear each other's burdens - so he chose me, father, to bear the burdens for his family! Arina Petrovna even closed her eyes: it seemed so good to her that everyone lived on everything ready-made, everyone had everything in store, and she was alone — toiling all day long and bearing all the burdens. - Yes my friend! - she said after a minute's silence, - it's hard for me in my old age! I saved the children for my share - it's time to rest! It's a joke - four thousand souls! to manage such a colossus in my years! after all, look at everyone! keep track of everyone! Yes, walk, and run! If only these mayors and our stewards: don't look that he is looking into your eyes! With one eye he is at you, and with the other he strives into the forest! This is the people themselves ... little faith! Well, what about you? - she interrupted suddenly, turning to Pavel, - are you picking your nose? - Well for me! - Pavel Vladimirich snapped, worried in the midst of his occupation. - Like what! nevertheless, you could be sorry for your father! - Well - father! Father is like father ... as always! He's been like this for ten years! You always oppress me! - Why should I oppress you, my friend, I'm your mother! Here is Porfisha: he caressed and regretted - he did everything like a trace to a good son, but you don’t want to look at his mother in the way, all from under his brows and from the side, as if she was not a mother, but a thief for you! Don't bite, do mercy!- What am I ... - Wait! shut up a minute! give your mother a word! Do you remember that the commandment says: honor your father and your mother - and there will be good ... therefore, you do not want "good" for yourself? Pavel Vladimirich was silent and looked at his mother with perplexed eyes. “You see, you’re silent,” continued Arina Petrovna, “therefore, you yourself feel that there are fleas behind you. Well, God bless you! For a joyful date, let's leave this conversation. God, my friend, sees everything, but I ... oh, how long have I understood you through and through! Oh, kids, kids! remember your mother, how it will lie in the grave, remember - but it will be too late! - Mamma! - Porfiry Vladimirich stood up, - leave these black thoughts! leave! - Everyone will have to die, my friend! - Arina Petrovna pronounced sentimentally, - these are not black thoughts, but the most, one might say ... divine! I am sickly, children, oh, how I am sick! Nothing remained of the same in me - weakness and weakness alone! Even the toadstool girls noticed it - and they don’t blow my mustache! I am the word - they are two! I say - they are ten! I have only one threat and I have on them, that to the young gentlemen, they say, I will complain! Well, sometimes they will quiet down! Tea was served, then breakfast, during which Arina Petrovna kept complaining and was moved by herself. After breakfast, she invited her sons to her bedroom. When the door was locked, Arina Petrovna immediately got down to business, about which a family council was called. - Goonies have come! She began. - Heard, mamma, heard! - Porfiry Vladimirich responded, either with irony, or with the complacency of a man who had just had a hearty meal. - He came, as if he had done the job, as if it should have been: no matter how much, they say, I was drinking or stirring up, the old woman's mother always had a piece of bread about me! How much hatred I have seen from him in my life! How much of his buffoonery and trickery of torment she endured! That at that time of my labors I had accepted to rub him into the service! - and everything is like water off a duck's back! Finally she fought, fought, I think: God! but if he doesn't want to take care of himself, do I really have to kill my life because of him, a lanky dunce! Let me, I think, throw him a piece, maybe your penny will fall into his hands - it will be more gradual! And threw it away. She herself looked out for a house for him, she laid out twelve thousand silver money with her own hands, like one kopeck! And so what! less than three years after that - but he again hung on my neck! How long will it take for me to endure these outrages? Porfisha looked up at the ceiling and shook his head sadly, as if saying: “ah-ah! Affairs! Affairs! and you need to bother your dear friend mama so! everyone would sit quietly, in peace and quiet - none of this would have happened, and mamma would not be angry ... ah-ah, deeds, deeds! " But Arina Petrovna, as a woman who does not tolerate the flow of her thoughts to be interrupted by anything, did not like Porfisha's movement. - No, you wait to turn your head, - she said, - you first listen! What was it like for me to find out that he had thrown a parental blessing, like a gnawed bone, into a cesspool? What it felt like for me to feel that, if I may say so, I didn’t get enough sleep at night, I didn’t eat a piece, and he didn’t! As if he took it, bought a spillikin at the bazaar - it was not needed, and threw it out the window! This is a parental blessing! - Ah, mamma! This is such an act! such an act! - began Porfiry Vladimirich, but Arina Petrovna again stopped him. - Stop! wait a minute! when I order, then you will say your opinion! And even if he warned me, you bastard! It's my fault, they say, mama, so and so - did not abstain! After all, I myself, if only in time, could have bought a house for a pittance! The unworthy son has not been able to use it - let the worthy children use it! After all, he, jokingly, jokingly, will bring a house fifteen percent a year to interest! Maybe I would have thrown him another thousand rubles on poverty for this! And then - on-tko! I am sitting here, neither sleep nor deed, but he has already ordered! She laid out twelve thousand with her own hands for the house, and he auctioned it off in eight thousand! - And the main thing, mamma, is that he has done so low with his parental blessing! Porfiry Vladimirich hastened to add quickly, as if fearing that his mother would interrupt him again. - And this, my friend, and that. My dear fellow, my money is not crazy; I did not acquire them with dances and chimes, but with a ridge and then. How did I achieve wealth? As if I followed papa, he only had that Golovlevo, one hundred and one souls, but in distant places, where twenty, where thirty - there were about a hundred and a half souls! And for me, for myself - and nothing at all! And well, with such and such means, what a colossus I have built! Four thousand souls - you can't hide them! And I would like to take it to the grave with me, but you can't! Do you think it's easy for me to get these four thousand souls? No, my dear friend, it’s so difficult, so difficult that it used to be that you didn’t sleep at night - you dream of everything, how to do this cleverly little thing so that no one could sniff out about it before the time! Yes, so that someone does not interrupt, and so that not to spend an extra penny! And what have I not tried! And the slush, and the mud, and the icy - I tasted everything! It’s just recently I have started to be luxurious in tarantulas, and at first they’ll put together, it used to be, a peasant cart, they’ll impose a little kibitchon on it, they’ll harness a couple of horses - and I trudge trick-trick to Moscow! I waggle, but I myself keep thinking: well, how can someone interrupt my property! Yes, and you will come to Moscow, you will stop at Rogozhskaya's, the stench and the dirt - all I, my friends, have endured! It used to be a pity for a cab driver - for two of us from Rogozhskaya to Solyanka pru! Even the janitors - and they are amazed: lady, they say, you are young and with prosperity, and you take on such works! And I keep silent and endure. And for the first time I had only thirty thousand money on the banknote - papa’s distant pieces, about a hundred souls, I sold it - and with this amount I started, jokingly, to buy a thousand souls! She served at the Iberian prayer service, and went to Solyanka to try her luck. And what then! As if the intercessor saw my bitter tears - she left the estate for me! And what a miracle: how I gave thirty thousand, besides the state debt, as if I had cut the whole auction! Before, they were loud and excited, but now they stopped adding more, and it suddenly became quiet and quiet all around. This present stood up, congratulates me, but I do not understand anything! The solicitor was here, Ivan Nikolaitch, came up to me: with a purchase, he says, madam, but I’m like standing a wooden post! And how great is God's mercy! Just think: if, with such a frenzy of mine, suddenly someone shouted in mischief: I give thirty-five thousand! - after all, I, perhaps, in unconsciousness, and would push all forty! Where would I get them ?! Arina Petrovna has already told the children the epic of her first steps in the arena of gain many times, but, apparently, she has not lost the interest of novelty in their eyes. Porfiry Vladimirich listened to mamma, now smiling, now sighing, now rolling his eyes, now lowering them, looking at the nature of the twists and turns she went through. And Pavel Vladimirich even big eyes revealed it like a child being told a familiar, but never boring tale. - And you, tea, think that the mother got her fortune for nothing! - continued Arina Petrovna, - no, my friends! for nothing, and a pimple on my nose will not jump up: after the first purchase, I was in a fever for six weeks! Now judge: how does it feel for me to see that after such and such torture, one might say, my labor money, neither let nor bear it for anything, was thrown into the cesspool! There was a moment's silence. Porfiry Vladimirich was ready to rip the vestments on himself, but he feared that in the village, perhaps, there would be no one to repair them; Pavel Vladimirich, as soon as the "fairy tale" about the acquisition ended, immediately sank down, and his face assumed its former apathetic expression. “So I then called you,” Arina Petrovna began again, “you judge me with him, with the villain! As you say, so be it! Condemn him - he will be guilty, condemn me - I will be guilty. Only I won't let myself be offended by the villain! She added, quite unexpectedly. Porfiry Vladimirich felt that a holiday had come on his street, and dispersed like a nightingale. But, as a true bloodsucker, he did not get down to business directly, but began with circumlocutions. “If you will allow me, dear friend mamma, to express my opinion,” he said, “here it is in a nutshell: children are obliged to obey their parents, blindly follow their instructions, to rest them in old age - that's all. What are children, dear mamma? Children are loving creatures in which everything, from themselves to the last rag they have on them, everything belongs to their parents. Therefore, parents can judge children; the children of the parents - never. It is the duty of children to honor, not judge. You say: judge me with him! This is generous, dear mamma, well-done! But can we even think about it without fear, we, from the first birthday, blessed by you from head to toe? Your will, but it will be sacrilege, not judgment! It will be such a sacrilege, such a sacrilege ... - Stop! wait a minute! if you say that you cannot judge me, then set me up, and condemn him! - interrupted him Arina Petrovna, who listened attentively and could not figure out what kind of trick Porfishka the bloodsucker had in his head. - No, my dear mamma, and I can't! Or, rather, I dare not and have no right. Neither correct nor accuse - I cannot judge at all. You are a mother, you alone know how to deal with us, your children. We deserve - you will reward us, if you are guilty - punish. Our business is to obey, not criticize. If you even had to step over, in a moment of parental anger, the measure of justice - and here we dare not grumble, because the ways of providence are hidden from us. Who knows? Maybe this is how it is needed! So it is here: brother Stepan acted meanly, even, one might say, blackly, but you alone can determine the degree of retribution that he deserves for his act! - So you refuse? Get out, they say, dear mamma, as you yourself know! - Ah, mamma, mamma! and it's not a sin for you! Ah-ah-ah! I say: how you want to decide the fate of brother Stepan, so let it be - and you ... oh, what black thoughts you suppose in me! - Good. Well, how are you? - Arina Petrovna turned to Pavel Vladimirich. - Well for me! Will you obey me? - Pavel Vladimirich spoke up as if through a dream, but then suddenly he bravely and continued: - It is known, to blame ... to tear into pieces ... to crush in a mortar ... I know ahead ... well! Muttering these incoherent words, he stopped and gazed at his mother with open mouth, as if he himself could not believe his ears. - Well, my dear, with you - after! Arina Petrovna interrupted him coldly. Repent after - but it will be too late! - I well! I’m nothing! .. I say: whatever you want! what's ... irreverent? - Pavel Vladimirich passed. - After, my friend, after we will talk to you! You think that you are an officer, and there will be no court for you! There will be, my dear, oh, how there will be! So you both give up the court? - I, dear mamma ... - And me too. Me, what! For me, perhaps, at least in pieces ... - Yes, shut up, for Christ's sake ... you unkind son! (Arina Petrovna understood that she had the right to say "scoundrel," but, for the sake of a joyful meeting, she abstained.) Well, if you refuse, then I have to judge him by my own court. And this is what my decision will be: I will try and do good to him again: I will separate my daddy's Vologda village for him, I will order a small outbuilding to be put there - and let him live, like a wretched one, on feeding from the peasants! Although Porfiry Vladimirich refused to try his brother, his mama's generosity so struck him that he did not dare to hide from her the dangerous consequences that the measure just expressed now entailed. - Mamma! - he exclaimed, - you are more than generous! You see an act in front of you ... well, the lowest, blackest act ... and suddenly everything is forgotten, everything is forgiven! Welly-ko-stucco. But excuse me ... I'm afraid, my dear, for you! Judge me as you like, but if I were you ... I would not do that!- Why? - I don’t know ... Maybe I don’t have this generosity ... this, so to speak, maternal feeling ... But everything somehow gives up: what if brother Stepan, due to his inherent depravity, and with this second your parental blessing will do the same as with the first? It turned out, however, that this consideration was already in Arina Petrovna's mind, but that, at the same time, there was another innermost thought, which now had to be expressed. “The Vologda estate, after all, is papa’s patrimonial,” she muttered through her teeth, “sooner or later he will still have to allocate a part of papa’s estate. - I understand this, dear friend mamma ... - And if you understand, therefore, you also understand that, having allocated him a Vologda village, you can demand an obligation from him that he is separated from papa and is happy with everything? - I understand that too, my dear mamma. You made a big mistake then, out of your kindness! It was necessary then, as you were buying the house - then you had to take an obligation from him that he was not an entrant to papa's estate! - What to do! did not guess! - Then he, for joy, would have signed any kind of paper! And you, by your kindness ... oh, what a mistake it was! such a mistake! such a mistake! - "Ah" yes "ah" - you would have been at that time, ahalo, ahalo, as the time was. Now you are ready to put everything on your mother’s head, and a little touches to the point - here you are not! And by the way, this is not about paper either: I think I will be able to demand paper from him even now. Daddy will not die now, tea, but until then the dunce also needs to drink and eat. He will not give out the paper - he can point out to him at the threshold: wait for papa's death! No, I still want to know: do you not like the fact that I want to separate the Vologda village for him? - He will squander her, my dear! he squandered the house and squandered the village! - And he squanders, so let him blame himself! - He will come to you then! - Well, no, these are pipes! And I won't let him on the doorstep! Not only bread - I will not send water to him, hateful! And people will not blame me for this, and God will not punish me. On-tko! I lived a house, lived an estate - but am I his serf, in order to save up for him all my life? Tea, I have other children too! - And yet he will come to you. After all, he is impudent, my dear mamma! - I tell you: I will not let you on the threshold! What are you, like a magpie, worked it out: "will come" and "come" - I will not let you in! Arina Petrovna fell silent and stared out the window with her eyes. She herself vaguely understood that the Vologda village would only temporarily free her from the "hateful", that in the end he would squander her too, and would come to her again, and that, like a mother she can not to refuse him a coal, but the thought that her hater would remain with her forever, that he, even imprisoned in an office, would, like a ghost, haunt her imagination every moment - this thought so oppressed her that she involuntarily shuddered with her whole body. - Never! She finally shouted, banging her fist on the table and jumping up from the chair. And Porfiry Vladimirich looked at his dear friend mamma and shook his head mournfully to the beat. - But you, mamma, are angry! - he finally said in such a touching voice, as if he was going to tickle his mother's belly. - And in your opinion, in a dance, or what, I should start? - A-a-ah! but what does the Scripture say about patience? In patience, it is said, gain your souls! in patience - that's how! Do you think God does not see? No, he sees everything, dear friend mamma! We, perhaps, do not even suspect anything, we are sitting here: we will estimate it this way, and we will try it this way - and there he decided: let me, they say, send her a test! A-a-ah! and I thought that you, mamma, were a good one! But Arina Petrovna understood very well that Porfishka the bloodsucker was only throwing a noose, and therefore she was completely angry. - You want to make a joke out of me! - she shouted at him, - the mother is talking about the case, and he - will play it up! I don’t need to speak my teeth! tell me what your thought is! In Golovlev, do you want to leave him around your mother's neck? - Exactly so, mamma, if your grace will be. Leave him in the same position as now, and demand the paper on the inheritance from him. - So ... so ... I knew that you would advise it. OK then. Let's suppose it does your way. No matter how unbearable it will be for me to see my hater always near me - well, yes, it is obvious that there is no one to regret me. She was young - she carried the cross, and the old woman, even more so, had no trace of giving up the cross. Let us admit this, we will now talk about something else. As long as papa and I are alive - well, he will live in Golovlev, he will not die of hunger. And then how? - Mamma! My friend! Why black thoughts? - Whether black or white - you still need to think. We are not young. We will both endure - what will happen to him then? - Mamma! do you really not rely on us, your children? Were you brought up in such rules? And Porfiry Vladimirich looked at her with one of those mysterious glances that always confused her. - Throws! - echoed in her soul. - I, mamma, will help the poor man with more joy! rich what! Christ is with him! a rich man has enough of his own! And the poor - do you know what Christ said about the poor! Porfiry Vladimiritch got up and kissed mama's hand. - Mamma! let me give my brother two pounds of tobacco! He asked. Arina Petrovna did not answer. She looked at him and thought: is he really such a bloodsucker that he will kick his brother out into the street? - Well, do as you like! In Golovlev, he should live like that in Golovlev! - finally, she said, - you have surrounded me! entangled! began by saying: as you, mamma, it will be necessary! but in the end he made me dance to his tune! Well, just listen to me! He is a hater of me, all his life he executed me and disgraced me, and finally he outraged my parental blessing, but still, if you kick him out of the door or make people go - you don’t have my blessing! No, no and NO! Go now both to him! tea, he even overlooked his burkals, they are looking out for you! The sons left, and Arina Petrovna stood at the window and watched as they, without saying a word to each other, crossed the red courtyard to the office. Porfisha constantly took off his cap and baptized himself: now at the church, which was white in the distance, now at the chapel, now at the wooden pillar, to which the begging mug was attached. Pavlusha, apparently, could not take his eyes off his new boots, on the tip of which the rays of the sun shimmered. - And for whom did I save! I didn’t sleep enough, I didn’t eat a piece ... for whom? Her scream burst out of her chest. The brothers left; Golovlev's estate was desolate. With intense jealousy, Arina Petrovna took up the interrupted economic activities; the clatter of chef's knives in the kitchen had subsided, but the activity in the office, in barns, storerooms, cellars, etc., had doubled. The dry summer was drawing to a close; there was jam, pickles, cooking for future use; supplies for the winter flocked from everywhere, women’s natural duty was brought from all estates by carts: dried mushrooms, berries, eggs, vegetables, and so on. All this was measured, accepted and added to the reserves of previous years. It is not for nothing that a whole line of cellars, storerooms and barns was built near the Golovlev lady; they were all full, half-sick, and there was a lot of spoiled material in them, which could not be started, for the sake of a rotten smell. All this material was sorted by the end of the summer, and that part of it that turned out to be unreliable was turned over to the table. “The cucumbers are still good, only they’ve licked them a little on top, plow them, well, let the courtyards eat,” said Arina Petrovna, ordering to leave one or the other tub. Stepan Vladimirich is surprisingly accustomed to his new position. From time to time, he wanted to “mess around”, “crawl” and generally “roll up” (as we will see later, he even had money for this), but he abstained with selflessness, as if he hoped that “the time was not yet ripe” ... Now he was constantly busy, for he took a lively and fussy part in the process of saving, disinterestedly rejoicing and grieving over the successes and failures of Golovlev's hoarding. In a kind of excitement he made his way from the office to the cellars, in one dressing gown, without a hat, hiding from his mother behind the trees and all kinds of cells that cluttered the red courtyard (Arina Petrovna, however, more than once noticed him in this form, and she boiled his parent's heart, so that Styopka the dunce was well to siege, but, on reflection, she waved her hand at him), and there with feverish impatience watched how the carts were unloaded, cans, barrels, tubs were brought from the estate, how all this was sorted and, finally, disappeared into the gaping abyss of cellars and. pantries. In most cases, he was satisfied. - Today came two carts from Dubrovin - here, brother, so mushrooms! - he told the Zemsky in admiration, - and we really thought that we would be left without saffron milk caps for the winter! Thank you, thank you Dubrovin! well done dubrovins! helped out! Or: - Today the mother ordered to catch carp in the pond - oh, the old people are good! More than half a dollar there! We must be eating carp all this week! Sometimes, however, he was sad. - Cucumbers, brother, have not gone right now! Gnarled yes with spots - there is no real cucumber, and even a Sabbath! Apparently, we will eat last year's, and the current ones - in the dining room, there is nowhere else! But in general, the economic system of Arina Petrovna did not satisfy him. - How much, brother, she overwhelmed the good - passion! They dragged them today, dragged them: corned beef, fish, cucumbers - she ordered to give everything to the table! Is this the case? Is it possible to manage the economy in this way! The fresh supply is gone, and she will not touch it, until all the old rot comes! Arina Petrovna's confidence that any kind of paper can be easily claimed from Stepka the dunce was fully justified. He not only signed all the papers sent to him by his mother without objection, but even boasted that same evening to the Zemsky: - Today, brother, I signed all the papers. Denied everything - clean now! Not a bowl, not a spoon - now I have nothing, and in the future it is not expected! Calmed the old woman! He parted with his brothers peacefully and was delighted that now he had a whole supply of tobacco. Of course, he could not refrain from calling Porfisha a blood drinker and a Judas woman, but these expressions completely imperceptibly drowned in a whole stream of chatter, in which it was impossible to catch a single coherent thought. At parting, the brothers were generous and even gave money, and Porfiry Vladimirich accompanied his gift with the following words: - Butter in the icon lamp will be needed or God wants to put a candle - but money is there! That's it, brother! Live, brother, quietly and peacefully - and mamma will be pleased with you, and you will be at peace, and we all have fun and joy. Mother - she is kind, friend! - Kind, kind, - agreed and Stepan Vladimirich, - only now she feeds rotten corned beef! - Who is to blame? who abused the parental blessing? - It's his own fault, he himself let the property down! And what a property it was: a round, very profitable, wonderful property! If you had behaved modestly and well, you would have eaten both beef and veal, otherwise you would have ordered the sauce. And you would have enough of everything: potatoes, cabbage, and peas ... Is that so, brother, am I saying? If Arina Petrovna had heard this dialogue, she probably would not have abstained, so as not to say: well, she has secured the carriage! But Styopka the dunce was just so happy that his hearing, so to speak, did not delay extraneous speeches. Judas could speak as much as he wanted and be quite sure that not a single word of his would reach its intended purpose. In a word, Stepan Vladimirich saw off the brothers in a friendly manner and, not without complacency, showed Yakov-Zemsky two twenty-five-ruble bills, which he had in his hand after parting. - Now, brother, I will be for a long time! - he said, - we have tobacco, we are provided with tea and sugar, only there was not enough wine - we want it, and there will be wine! However, as long as I’m still holding on, there’s no time now, I have to run to the cellar! Do not look after the little one - they will take it away in no time! And she saw me, brother, she saw me, the witch, how I once made my way along the wall near the table! It stands by the window, looks, tea, and thinks at me: I’m not counting cucumbers, but that’s it! But at last it was October in the yard: it rained, the street turned black and became impassable. Stepan Vladimirich had nowhere to go, because on his feet he had papa's worn-out shoes, on his shoulders papa’s old dressing gown. He sat desperately at the window in his room and through the double frames looked at the peasant village, drowned in the mud. There, among the gray vapors of autumn, like black dots, people nimbly flashed, whom the summer suffering did not have time to break. Strada did not stop, but only got a new environment, in which summer jubilant tones were replaced by uninterrupted autumn twilight. The Owins smoked after midnight, the clatter of flails echoing in a dull shot throughout the neighborhood. Threshing was also going on in the barns of the master, and in the office it was rumored that it was hardly closer to Maslenitsa to handle the whole mass of the master's bread. Everything looked gloomy, sleepy, everything spoke of oppression. The doors of the office were no longer wide open, as in summer, and in its very room a gray mist floated from the vapors of wet sheepskin coats. It is difficult to say what impression the picture of the laboring village autumn made on Stepan Vladimirich, and whether he even recognized in it the suffering that continued amid the mud, under the continuous downpour of rain; but it is certain that the gray, eternally watery sky of autumn was crushing him. It seemed that it was hanging directly over his head and threatening to drown him in the open slabs of the earth. He had no other business but to look out the window and watch the heavy masses of clouds. In the morning, a little light dawned, the whole horizon was completely overlaid by them; the clouds stood as if frozen, enchanted; an hour passed, two, three, and they all stood in one place, and even imperceptibly there was not the slightest change either in color or in their outlines. There is this cloud, which is lower and blacker than the others: just now it had a torn shape (like a pop in a cassock with arms outstretched), clearly protruding against the whitish background of the upper clouds - and now, at noon, it retained the same shape. The right hand, it is true, has become shorter, but the left one is stretched out ugly, and pours out of it, pours so that even against the dark background of the sky an even darker, almost black stripe emerged. There is another cloud further away: just now it hung in a huge shaggy lump over the neighboring village of Naglovka and seemed to threaten to strangle it - and now it hangs in the same shaggy lump in the same place, and its paws extended downward, as if it wanted to jump off. Clouds, clouds and clouds - so all day. About five o'clock in the afternoon, a metamorphosis takes place: the surroundings are gradually clouded over, clouded over and, finally, completely disappears. At first the clouds will disappear and everything will be covered with an indifferent black veil; then the forest and Naglovka will disappear somewhere; behind it will sink a church, a chapel, a nearby peasant village, an orchard, and only the eye, closely following the process of these mysterious disappearances, can still distinguish a manor house standing in several fathoms. The room is already completely dark; it is still twilight in the office, no fire is lit; all that remains is to walk, walk, walk endlessly. Painful languor fetters the mind; in the whole organism, in spite of inactivity, an unreasonable, inexpressible fatigue is felt; only one thought rushes about, sucks and crushes - and this thought: a coffin! coffin! coffin! There are those dots that just now flashed against the dark background of dirt, near the village beasts - this thought does not oppress them, and they will not perish under the burden of despondency and languor: if they do not fight directly with the sky, then, by at least, floundering, arranging something, protecting, sneering. Is it worth it to protect and scoff at something over the device of which they are exhausted day and night? This did not occur to him, but he realized that even these nameless points were immeasurably higher than him, that he could not flounder, that he there is nothing to fence around, nothing to scoff at. He spent evenings in the office, because Arina Petrovna, as before, did not let out candles for him. Several times he asked through the bailiff to send him boots and a sheepskin coat, but received the answer that there were no boots in store for him, but that frost would come, he would be given felt boots. Obviously, Arina Petrovna intended to literally fulfill her program: to contain the hateful one so that he would not starve to death. At first he scolded his mother, but then he seemed to forget about her; at first he remembered something, then he stopped remembering. Even the light of the candles lighted in the office, and he became disgusted with him, and he shut himself in his room to be alone with the darkness. Ahead he had only one resource, which he was still afraid of, but which with irresistible force pulled him to himself. This resource is to get drunk and forget. To forget deeply, irrevocably, to plunge into the wave of oblivion to the point that it was impossible to get out of it. Everything drew him in this direction: the violent habits of the past, and the violent inactivity of the present, and a sick body with a suffocating cough, with unbearable breathlessness that is not caused by anything, with constantly intensifying pounding of the heart. Finally he broke down. “Today, brother, we must store up the damask at night,” he said once in a Zemstvo voice that did not bode well. Today's damask brought with it a whole series of new ones, and from then on he got drunk neatly every night. At nine o'clock, when the lights were turned off in the office and people were leaving for their lairs, he put on the table the stocked bottle of vodka and a slice of black bread, thickly sprinkled with salt. He did not immediately begin to vodka, but seemed to sneak up on it. Around everything fell asleep in dead sleep; only the mice scratched behind the wallpaper that had lagged behind the walls, and the clock chirped annoyingly in the office. Taking off his robe, in one shirt, he ran up and down the hotly heated room, stopped from time to time, approached the table, fumbled in the dark for the damask and again began to walk. The first glasses he drank with jokes, voluptuously sucking in the burning moisture; but little by little the heartbeat quickened, the head caught fire - and the tongue began to mutter something incoherent. The dull imagination tried to create some images, the dead memory tried to break through into the region of the past, but the images came out torn, meaningless, and the past did not respond with a single memory, neither bitter nor bright, as if a solid wall had stood between it and the present moment once and for all. Before him was only the present in the form of a tightly locked prison, in which both the idea of ​​space and the idea of ​​time had sunk without a trace. A room, a stove, three windows in the outer wall, a creaky wooden bed and on it a thin, trampled mattress, a table with a damask standing on it - the thought did not come up to any other horizons. But, as the content of the damask diminished, as the head became inflamed, even this meager sense of the present became beyond the power. The muttering, which at first had at least some form, was finally decomposed; the pupils of the eyes, increasing to distinguish the outlines of darkness, expanded immensely; the darkness itself finally disappeared, and in its place there was a space filled with phosphoric brilliance. It was an endless emptiness, dead, not responding with a single vital sound, ominously radiant. She followed on his heels, with every turn of his steps. No walls, no windows, nothing existed; one endlessly stretching, luminous emptiness. He was getting scared; he needed to freeze the sense of reality in himself to such an extent that even this emptiness would not exist. A few more efforts - and he was there. Stumbling legs from side to side wore a numb body, the chest emitted not a mutter, but a wheeze, the very existence seemed to cease. That strange numbness set in, which, bearing on itself all the signs of the absence of conscious life, at the same time undoubtedly indicated the presence of some special life, developing regardless of any conditions. Moans after moans escaped from the chest, without disturbing sleep; the organic ailment continued its corrosive work, apparently causing no physical pain. In the morning, he woke up with light, and with him woke up: melancholy, disgust, hatred. Hatred without protest, not conditioned by anything, hatred for something indefinite, without an image. The inflamed eyes stop senselessly now on one object and now on another and gaze long and intently; hands and feet tremble; the heart will freeze, as if it will roll down, then it will begin to pound with such force that the hand involuntarily grabs the chest. Not a single thought, not a single desire. There is a stove in front of my eyes, and my thought is so overwhelmed with this idea that it does not accept any other impressions. Then the window replaced the stove, like a window, a window, a window ... Nothing is needed, nothing, nothing is needed. The pipe is stuffed and lights up mechanically, and the half-smoked one falls out of the hands again; the tongue mutters something, but, obviously, only out of habit. The best thing is to sit and be silent, be silent and look at one point. It would be nice to get drunk at such a moment; it would be good to raise the temperature of the body so much that at least for a short time you feel the presence of life, but during the day you cannot get vodka for any money. It is necessary to wait for the night, in order to again grasp those blissful moments when the earth disappears from under your feet and instead of four hateful walls an infinite luminous emptiness opens before your eyes. Arina Petrovna did not have the slightest idea about how the "dunce" spends his time in the office. An accidental glimpse of feeling that had flashed in a conversation with the blood-drinking Porfishka went out instantly, so that she did not notice. On her part, there was not even a systematic way of acting, but there was simple oblivion. She completely lost sight of the fact that next to her, in the office, there was a being who was connected to her by blood ties, a creature who, perhaps, languishes in longing for life. As she herself, once entering the rut of life, almost mechanically filled it with one and the same content, so, in her opinion, others should have acted as well. It did not occur to her that the very character vital content changes in accordance with a variety of conditions, one way or another, prevailing, and that finally for some (and including for her) this content represents something beloved, voluntarily chosen, and for others - hateful and involuntary. Therefore, although the bailiff had repeatedly reported to her that Stepan Vladimirich was "not good," these reports slipped past her ears, leaving no impression in her mind. Many, many if she answered them with a stereotypical phrase: - I suppose he will catch his breath, he will still outlive us! What is he, a lanky stallion, doing! Coughs! some have been coughing for thirty years, and it's like water off a duck's back! Nevertheless, when one morning it was reported to her that Stepan Vladimirich had disappeared from Golovlev at night, she suddenly regained consciousness. Immediately she sent out the whole house in search of and personally began the investigation, starting with an examination of the room in which the hateful one lived. The first thing that struck her was the damask standing on the table, at the bottom of which a little liquid was still splashing and which they didn’t think to remove in a hurry. - What's this? She asked, as if not understanding. - So ... they were engaged, - answered, hesitatingly, the bailiff. - Who got it? - she began, but then she caught herself and, holding her anger, continued the examination. The room was filthy, black, and so mottled that even she, who did not know and did not accept any demands for comfort, felt uncomfortable. The ceiling was smoky, the wallpaper on the walls was cracked and in many places hung in tatters, the windowsills were blackened under a thick layer of tobacco ash, pillows were lying on the floor covered with sticky dirt, a crumpled sheet lay on the bed, all gray from the filth that had planted on it. In one window, the winter frame was exposed, or, better to say, torn out, and the window itself was left open: in this way, obviously, the hateful one disappeared. Arina Petrovna instinctively glanced at the street and was even more frightened. It was already early November in the yard, but autumn this year was especially long, and frosts had not yet come. And the road and the fields - everything was black, soggy, unavailable. How did it go? where? And then she remembered that he was not wearing anything except a dressing gown and shoes, of which one was found under the window, and that it had been raining all last night as if it were a sin. “It's been a long time since I’ve been here, my dears!” She said, breathing in herself instead of air some disgusting mixture of fuselage, tyutyun and sour sheepskins. All day, while people were rummaging through the forest, she stood at the window, peering with dull attention into the naked distance. Because of the dunce and such a mess! - it seemed to her that it was some kind of ridiculous dream. She said then that he should be sent to the Vologda village - but no, the damned Judas fawns: leave, mamma, in Golovlev! - now swim with him! He would live there behind the eyes, as he wanted - and Christ would be with him! She did her job: I squandered one piece - threw out the other! And another would have squandered - well, don't be angry, father! God - and he will not feed on an insatiable womb! And everything would be quiet and peaceful with us, and now - how easy is it to run away! look for him in the woods and fistulas! It’s good how they’ll bring a live person into the house — after all, it’s not long to get into a noose from drunken eyes! He took a rope, hooked on a branch, wrapped it around his neck, and he was like that! Mother of nights did not get enough sleep, she didn’t eat enough, but he, actually, what fashion he invented - he decided to hang himself. And good would be bad for him, they would not give him food or drink, he would exhaust him with work - otherwise he wandered up and down the room all day like a catechuchman, eating and drinking, eating and drinking! Another would not know how to thank his mother, but he decided to hang himself - that's how the dear son borrowed! But this time, the assumptions of Arina Petrovna regarding the violent death of the dunce did not come true. Towards evening, a wagon drawn by a pair of peasant horses appeared in Golovlev's sight, and drove the fugitive to the office. He was in a semi-insensitive state, all beaten, cut, with a blue and swollen face. It turned out that during the night he reached the Dubrovin estate, which stood twenty miles from Golovlev. The whole day after that he slept, for others he woke up. As usual, he began to pace back and forth across the room, but he did not touch the receiver, as if he had forgotten, and did not utter a single word to all the questions. For her part, Arina Petrovna felt so much that she almost ordered him to be transferred from the office to the manor’s house, but then calmed down and again left the dunce in the office, ordering him to wash and clean his room, change the bed linen, hang curtains on the windows, and so on. The next evening, when it was reported to her that Stepan Vladimirich was awake, she ordered to call him into the house for tea and even found gentle tones to explain with him. - Where did you go from your mother? - she began, - do you know how you disturbed your mother? It's good that papa didn't find out about anything - what would it have been like for him in his position? But Stepan Vladimirich, apparently, remained indifferent to the mother's caress and stared with motionless, glassy eyes at the greasy candle, as if watching the carbon deposits that were gradually forming on the wick. - Oh, fool, fool! - continued Arina Petrovna, more and more affectionately and affectionately, - if only you thought, what glory about your mother will go through you! After all, she has envious people - thank God! and God knows what they will do! They will say that she did not feed something, and did not wear something ... ah, you fool, you fool! The same silence, and the same motionless gaze aimlessly directed at one point. - And how bad your mother has become for you! You are dressed and well fed - thank God! And warmly to you, and nicely ... what, it seems, to look for! You are bored, so don't be angry, my friend - that's what the village is for! Veseliev and we have no balls - and we all sit in the corners and miss! So I would be glad to dance and sing songs - but you look at the street, and there is no desire to go to the church of God in such a sea! Arina Petrovna stopped, expecting that the dunce would flush at least something; but the dunce seemed to have turned to stone. Little by little, her heart begins to boil, but she still holds back. - And if you were dissatisfied with what - the food, perhaps, was not enough, or from the linen there - could you not frankly explain to your mother? Mamma, they say, darling, would you tell me to make some livers or make some cheesecakes - would your mother really refuse you a piece? Or even if only wine - well, you wanted wine, well, Christ is with you! A glass, two glasses - is it really a pity for the mother? Otherwise it’s clear: it’s not ashamed to ask a slave, but it’s hard for a mother to say a word! But all the flattering words were in vain: Stepan Vladimirich not only did not feel deeply (Arina Petrovna hoped that he would kiss her hand) and did not show remorse, but even seemed to hear nothing. From then on, he certainly fell silent. He walked about the room all day, his brow wrinkled sullenly, his lips moving and not feeling tired. At times he stopped, as if wishing to express something, but could not find a word. Apparently, he has not lost the ability to think; but the impressions lingered so faintly in his brain that he immediately forgot them. Therefore, the failure to find the right word did not even arouse impatience in him. Arina Petrovna, for her part, thought that he would certainly set fire to the estate. - Silence all day! - she said, - after all, he thinks, you dunce, about something, as long as he is silent! just mark my word, if he does not burn down the estate! But the dunce just didn't think at all. It seemed that he was completely plunged into a dawnless haze, in which there is no place not only for reality, but also for fantasy. His brain was producing something, but this something had no relation either to the past, or to the present, or to the future. It was as if a black cloud enveloped him from head to foot, and he peered at him, at him alone, followed his imaginary vibrations and at times shuddered and seemed to defend himself from him. In this mysterious cloud the entire physical and mental world drowned for him ... In December of the same year, Porfiry Vladimirich received a letter from Arina Petrovna with the following content: “Yesterday morning a new test befell us, sent down from the Lord: my son, and your brother, Stepan, has died. Since the evening before, he was perfectly healthy and even had supper, and the next morning he was found dead in bed - such is the transience of this life! And what is most regrettable for the mother's heart: so, without parting words, he left this vain world in order to rush into the region of the unknown. Let this serve as a lesson to all of us: whoever neglects family ties should always expect such an end for himself. And failures in this life, and vain death, and eternal torment in the next life - everything comes from this source. For no matter how highly intelligent and even noble we are, if we do not honor our parents, it is precisely their arrogance and our nobility that will turn us into nothing. These are the rules that every person living in this world must harden, and the slaves, moreover, are obliged to honor the masters. However, in spite of this, all the honors to the one who departed into eternity were given in full, like a son. The veil was discharged from Moscow, and the burial was performed by the father, Archimandrite Soborny, known to you. The magpie and the commemoration and the offering are performed, as follows, according to Christian custom. I’m sorry for my son, but I don’t dare to murmur, and I do not advise you, my children. For who can know this? - we murmur here, and his soul is amused in the mountains! "

Freeloader. A well-known tobacco manufacturer at the time, competing with Zhukov. (Approx. M... E. Saltykova-Shchedrin.)

This work has come into the public domain. The work was written by an author who died more than seventy years ago, and was published in his lifetime or posthumously, but more than seventy years have also passed since the publication. It can be freely used by anyone without anyone's consent or permission and without paying any royalties.

Type of babble (Judushka Golovleva) artistic discovery M.E.Saltykova-Shchedrin. Before that, in Russian literature, in Gogol and Dostoevsky, there were images that vaguely resemble Judas, but these are only light hints. Neither before nor after Saltykov-Shchedrin, no one was able to portray the image of a windbag with such force and accusatory clarity. Judas Golovlev is a one-of-a-kind type, an ingenious find of the author.

Saltykov-Shchedrin, creating his novel, set himself the task of showing the mechanism of the destruction of the family. The soul of this process was, without any doubt, Porfishka the bloodsucker. It goes without saying that the author paid special attention to the development of this particular image, which is interesting, among other things, by the fact that it is constantly changing, right down to the last pages, and the reader can never be sure of what exactly it will turn out to be this image in the next chapter. We see the portrait of Judas in dynamics. Seeing for the first time an unsympathetic, frank child, sucking up to his mother, eavesdropping, buzzing, the reader can hardly imagine that disgusting, shuddering creature that commits suicide at the end of the book. The image changes beyond recognition. Only the name remains unchanged. As Porfiry becomes a Judas from the first pages of the novel, so Judas dies. There is something surprisingly petty in this name, so faithfully expressing the inner essence of this character.

One of the main features of Judas (not counting, of course, idle talk) is hypocrisy, a striking contradiction between well-intentioned reasoning and dirty aspirations. All attempts by Porfiry Golovlev to snatch a bigger piece for himself, to keep an extra penny, all his murders (you cannot call his policy towards relatives in any other way), in a word, everything he does is accompanied by prayers and pious speeches. Remembering through every word of Christ, Judas sends his son Petenka to certain death, solicits his niece Anninka, sends his own newborn baby to an orphanage.

But Judas harasses household members not only with such godly speeches. He also has two favorite themes: family and household. On this, in fact, the scope of his outpourings is limited due to complete ignorance and unwillingness to see anything that lies outside of his little world. However, these everyday conversations, which mamma Arina Petrovna is not averse to telling the story, in the mouth of Judas turn into endless moralizing. He simply tyrannizes the whole family, bringing everyone to complete exhaustion. Of course, all these flattering, sugary speeches do not deceive anyone. Since childhood, the mother does not trust Porfishka: he is overplaying too much. Hypocrisy combined with ignorance cannot deceive.