The story “White Nights” by Dostoevsky was written in 1848 and published in the literary magazine “Otechestvennye zapiski”. The phrase “white nights” indicates a certain unreality, fantastic nature of the plot, and also that the setting of the story is St. Petersburg.
Main characters
Dreamer- a young, poor official, a lonely and sensitive person who is used to leaving real world into your fantasies.
Nastenka- a young, inexperienced girl, a big dreamer, a kindred spirit of the Dreamer.
Other characters
Grandmother- Nastenka’s own grandmother, who raised the girl after the death of her parents.
Guest- Nastenka’s fiancé, a pragmatic and sensible young man.
Night one
The narrator is a young official who has been living in St. Petersburg for eight years, but during this time he has not made “almost a single acquaintance.” IN free time he leisurely walks around the city, looking at passers-by.
With the onset of warm weather, the city became noticeably deserted, and young man it seems that “all of St. Petersburg rose up and suddenly left for the dacha.”
Looking at the endless processions of carts, “loaded with whole mountains of all kinds of furniture,” the young man feels endless loneliness in his soul. He would not mind going out of town with other vacationers, but he “had absolutely nowhere to go and there was no need to go to the dacha.”
He finds joy in walks, admiring the blossoming nature of spring. At such moments, he indulges in romantic dreams with special rapture.
One day, returning home after a long walk in the country, the hero meets a girl who is crying bitterly on the bank of a canal. He is overcome by the desire to reassure the stranger, but self-doubt takes over, and the young man only timidly watches her.
Frightened, the girl quickly leaves, and the young man follows, reproaching himself for his indecision. An incident comes to his aid when a drunk passer-by begins to pester the girl. With a stick in his hands, the hero drives away the impudent man and offers the frightened girl his services as a guide.
Glancing briefly at his companion, the young man notices that “she was pretty and brunette.” He begs for a new meeting, and the girl agrees, only on the condition that he will not consider this a romantic date and will not fall in love with her.
Night two
When they meet, Nastenka - that’s the girl’s name - asks the hero to tell about himself “the most in more detail" Fulfilling her wish, the young man shares his secret: he is a Dreamer, who is even “terrified to think about the future.” In reality, the young man is very lonely, and he is oppressed by his own “musty, unnecessary life.” He dreams only of meeting a kindred spirit, and Nastenka reassures him that now he has a friend. Having completely trusted her new acquaintance, the girl tells her life story
Nastenka's story
Seventeen-year-old Nastenka was left an orphan in early childhood, and her grandmother took up her upbringing. Until the age of fifteen, the girl studied with teachers hired by her grandmother, thanks to which she received a very good education.
They lived by renting out the mezzanine of their small two-story house. One day a new tenant settled in, who invited his grandmother to freely use his rich library.
After talking with Nastenka, the guest was very surprised that she spends all her time with her grandmother, and she has no friends at all “to whom she could go to visit.” He invited the housewives to the theater several times, and Nastenka herself did not notice how she fell in love with the young man.
“Exactly a year ago, in the month of May,” the lodger informed his grandmother that he was forced to leave for Moscow for work reasons. Having learned about this, Nastenka gathered all her things into a bundle and invited the young man to go with him.
A touching scene took place between the lovers, and in the end they agreed to meet exactly a year later on the embankment at ten o’clock in the evening.
The dreamer found a crying girl on the embankment just at the moment when she found out that her beloved had returned, “but for the third day now there is neither a letter nor him.” The young man suggested that Nastenka write a letter and volunteered to deliver it to the lovers’ mutual acquaintances.
Night three
The next day, the hero, as promised, took Nastenka’s letter to specified address. The girl invited the Dreamer to come at ten o'clock in the evening to share her joy with her.
Looking forward to the arrival of the groom, Nastenka “became somehow unusually talkative, cheerful, playful.” She addressed the young man kindly, and was very grateful to him for not falling in love with her and thus not ruining their tender friendship.
In high spirits, Nastenka began enthusiastically making plans for her life, not noticing with what eyes the loving Dreamer was looking at her. However, not a trace remained of the girl’s joy when the chimes struck eleven o’clock - her groom never showed up.
However, the hero managed to calm Nastenka and assure her of successful outcome affairs.
Night four
Arriving at the embankment at nine o'clock in the evening, the Dreamer finds a girl there. He admits that he never heard back from her fiancé. Nastenka is immensely upset and offended in her feelings. She sincerely does not understand how the groom could “insult, offend, a poor, defenseless girl, who is to blame for loving him.”
The dreamer tried to console her, but all in vain. The girl says she doesn't like it anymore evil man, who so vilely deceived her.
At this moment the young man feels that he “must finally speak, express” his true feelings for Nastenka. He confesses his love to her, and in response, along with reproaches, he is surprised to hear Nastenka’s reciprocal confession. The girl sees that he is much better than her fiancé, but cannot yet reciprocate his feelings. She invites the Dreamer to move into their empty mezzanine and, perhaps, over time, she will be able to love him as much as he loves her.
Young people, “as if in a daze, in a fog,” begin to dream about a future together. But at that moment a man approached them, and Nastenka recognized him as her fiancé. She quickly “fluttered towards him,” leaving the Dreamer, who had no choice but to watch with bitterness the touching meeting of lovers.
Morning
The next morning was cloudy. It began to rain, knocking sadly on the Dreamer's windows. He was very sick and dizzy - this was “a fever creeping in” on the unlucky lover.
The hero received an enthusiastic letter from Nastenka, in which she asked to forgive her and admitted that his love for her “was imprinted like sweet Dreams, which you remember for a long time after waking up.” She also said that she was getting married in a week and would really like for the Dreamer and her fiance to meet and become friends.
The hero re-read this letter for a long time. The “unwelcoming and sad whole prospect” of his joyless life flashed before his eyes, which even after fifteen years is unlikely to change for the better.
However, the Dreamer does not reproach Nastenka. On the contrary, he is grateful to her “for a minute of bliss and happiness,” the memory of which he will carry throughout his entire life.
Conclusion
Dostoevsky defined the genre of his work as a sentimental novel, thereby placing emphasis on the emotional experiences of the characters, their emotions and feelings. But, despite the lightness and apparent simplicity of the story, it touches on important philosophical questions about love and happiness.
A brief retelling of “White Nights” will be especially useful for reader's diary. After reading it, we recommend reading Dostoevsky’s story in its full version.
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Let's consider summary the story "White Nights" by Dostoevsky. The genre of this work was defined by the writer himself as a “sentimental novel.” However, in form "White Nights" is a story. It belongs to a cycle of novels and short stories that were created in St. Petersburg before Fyodor Mikhailovich was convicted in the Petrashevites case.
Composition of the story
The work “White Nights” by Dostoevsky consists of 5 chapters, which have the names: “Night 1”, “Night 2”, etc. The story describes 4 nights in total. The fifth chapter is called "Morning". This reflects the dynamics of the development of the plot in the work - from sleep to awakening.
First night
The hero of Dostoevsky's "White Nights" has lived in St. Petersburg for eight years. At the same time, he was unable to make a single acquaintance in the city. The hero is known to almost all of St. Petersburg. He knows many people by sight and sees them every day on the streets. The old man is one of these acquaintances. The hero meets him on the Fontanka in certain hour. If both are in good mood, they bow to each other. Houses are also familiar to the Dreamer. He even sometimes imagines that they are talking to him, just as the hero himself communicates with them with pleasure. He has favorites among his household, and he also has short friends. The dreamer has been tormented by anxiety for three days now. The reason is the fear of loneliness. The city was empty as residents went to their dachas. The dreamer is ready to go with them, but no one invited him, as if everyone had forgotten him, as if he was a complete stranger to them.
Returning after a walk at a late hour, the hero of Dostoevsky's story "White Nights" saw a girl on the embankment. She looked intently into the water of the canal. This girl was crying, and she walked past him on the sidewalk while the Dreamer tried to find words of comfort. He did not dare to follow her. Suddenly, not far from this stranger, there was a drunk gentleman who hurried after her. Then the hero rushed at him with a gnarled stick. He left the lady alone. The dreamer told her that he creates entire novels in his imagination. However, in fact, he has never even met women, because he is very timid. The girl replies that she even likes such modesty. The hero hopes to see her again and asks the girl to come to the embankment again the next night. She promises to be here at nine o’clock, but begs the hero not to fall in love with her and count only on friendship. The girl has a secret that she doesn’t want to tell. The dreamer feels so happy that he wanders around the city all night and cannot return home. This concludes the description of the first chapter of Dostoevsky’s work. The “White Nights,” a brief summary of which interests us, continues with the following events.
Second night
When meeting the Dreamer, the lady asks him to tell her his story. He replies that he has no history. The girl has a blind grandmother who will not let her go anywhere. After the girl got naughty 2 years ago, the grandmother sewed her dress to hers. Now the Dreamer’s interlocutor is forced to read aloud to the old woman and sit at home. The hero replies that he considers himself a dreamer, and only then remembers that he still does not know the name of his companion. The girl introduces herself as Nastenka. The dreamer tells her about his dreams. In his dreams, he lived to be 26 years old and even celebrates the “anniversary of his feelings.” Nastenka tells the hero the story of her life.
The girl's father and mother died very early, and so she stayed with her grandmother. One day, when this old woman fell asleep, Nastenka persuaded Fyokla, a deaf worker, to sit in her place, and she herself went to her friend. When the old woman woke up and asked about something, Thekla ran away, scared, because she could not understand what her grandmother was asking her about. One day a new tenant moved into the mezzanine of my grandmother's house. He began to supply Nastenka with books and invited her and the old woman to the theater to see a play." Barber of Seville". After that, the three of them visit the theater several more times. Then the tenant says that he must leave for Moscow. Secretly from his grandmother, Nastenka packs his things, because he wants to go with him. The tenant says that he cannot marry the girl yet. But he he will definitely come for her in a year, when he has settled his affairs. Now he has been in the city for three days, but still has not come to Nastenka. The Dreamer invites her to write a letter to her beloved and promises to give it to him through the girl’s friends. sealed letter. The heroes say goodbye. Dostoevsky's "White Nights" continues in the next chapter.
Third night
On a stormy and cloudy day, the hero of the work realizes that Nastenka’s love for him was only the joy of a close meeting with another. The girl came to meet the hero an hour earlier, because she wanted to see her beloved and hoped that he would certainly come. However, he did not show up. The dreamer reassures the girl by making various assumptions: he might not have received the letter, perhaps he cannot come now, or he answered, but the letter will arrive a little later. The girl hopes to see her beloved the next day, but the feeling of annoyance does not leave her. Nastenka laments that her beloved is not at all like the Dreamer, who is so kind to her. This is how the next chapter of the work “White Nights” ends. The story continues with a description of the fourth night.
Fourth night
At 9 o'clock the next day the heroes were already on the embankment. But the man does not appear. The hero confesses his love to the girl, says that he understands her feelings for her beloved and treats them with respect. Nastenka replies that this man betrayed her, and therefore she will try with all her might to stop loving him. If the Dreamer can wait until the old feelings completely subside, then Nastenka’s love and gratitude will go to him. Young people joyfully dream of a future together.
Suddenly, at the moment of their farewell, the groom appears. Nastenka, trembling and screaming, breaks out of the Dreamer’s hands and rushes towards him. She disappears along with her lover. The Dreamer from the work “White Nights” looked after them for a long time... Dostoevsky describes in chapters how the internal state of the main characters changed, who seem to be making the transition from sleep to awakening in the story. This happens in the next chapter, which is called “Morning”.
Morning
On a rainy and dull day, Matryona, a worker, brought a letter from Nastenka to the Dreamer. The girl apologized and thanked him for his love. She promises to keep him in her memory forever, and also asks the Dreamer not to forget her. The hero re-read the letter several times, tears welling up in his eyes. The dreamer mentally thanks Nastenka for the minute of bliss and happiness that the girl gave him. One of these days Nastenka is getting married. However, the girl’s feelings are contradictory. She writes in the letter that she would like to "love you both." However, the Dreamer is forced to remain forever only a brother, a friend. He again found himself alone in a room that had suddenly become “old.” However, even after 15 years, the Dreamer remembers with tenderness his short-lived love.
A few facts about the work
So, we have described the event outline of the work that Dostoevsky created. "White Nights", a summary of which, of course, artistic features does not convey the story, it was written by Fyodor Mikhailovich in 1848. Today the work is included in school curriculum on literature along with other creations of this writer. The heroes in this story, as in other works of Fyodor Mikhailovich, are very interesting. Dostoevsky dedicated “White Nights” to A. N. Pleshcheev, a poet and friend of his youth.
Criticism
As for criticism, we note the following. The work "White Nights" (Dostoevsky) received positive reviews almost immediately after its first publication. The following responded to him: famous critics, like A.V. Druzhinin, S.S. Dudyshkin, A.A. Grigoriev, N.A. Dobrolyubov, E.V. Tur and others.
Sentimental novel
(From the memories of a dreamer)
Or was he created for
To be there for just a moment.
In the neighborhood of your heart?..
Iv. Turgenev
Night one
It was a wonderful night, the kind of night that can only happen when we are young, dear reader. The sky was so starry, so bright sky that, looking at him, one involuntarily had to ask oneself: could all sorts of angry and capricious people really live under such a sky? This is also a young question, dear reader, very young, but God send it to your soul more often!.. Speaking about capricious and various angry gentlemen, I could not help but remember my well-behaved behavior all that day. From the very morning I began to be tormented by some amazing melancholy. It suddenly seemed to me that everyone was abandoning me, alone, and that everyone was abandoning me. Of course, everyone has the right to ask: who are all these people? because I’ve been living in St. Petersburg for eight years now, and I haven’t been able to make almost a single acquaintance. But why do I need acquaintances? I already know the whole of St. Petersburg; That’s why it seemed to me that everyone was leaving me when the whole of St. Petersburg rose up and suddenly left for the dacha. I became afraid to be alone, and for three whole days I wandered around the city in deep melancholy, absolutely not understanding what was happening to me. Whether I go to Nevsky, whether I go to the garden, whether I wander along the embankment - not a single face from those whom I am accustomed to meeting in the same place, at a certain hour, for a whole year. They, of course, don’t know me, but I know them. I know them briefly; I have almost studied their faces - and I admire them when they are cheerful, and I mope when they become misty. I almost became friends with one old man whom I meet every single day, at a certain hour, on the Fontanka. The face is so important, thoughtful; He keeps whispering under his breath and waving his left hand, and in his right he has a long, knotty cane with a gold knob. Even he noticed me and takes emotional part in me. If it happened that I would not be at the same place on the Fontanka at a certain hour, I am sure that the blues would attack him. That's why we sometimes almost bow to each other, especially when we're both in good location spirit. The other day, when we had not seen each other for two whole days and on the third day we met, we were already grabbing our hats, but fortunately we came to our senses in time, lowered our hands and walked next to each other with sympathy. I am also familiar with the houses. When I walk, everyone seems to run ahead of me into the street, look at me through all the windows and almost say: “Hello; How is your health? and I, thank God, am healthy, and a floor will be added to me in the month of May.” Or: “How is your health? and I’ll be repaired tomorrow.” Or: “I almost burned out and, moreover, I was scared,” etc. Of these, I have favorites, there are short friends; one of them intends to undergo treatment this summer with an architect. I’ll come in every day on purpose so that it doesn’t get healed somehow, God forbid!.. But I’ll never forget the story of one very pretty light pink house. It was such a nice little stone house, it looked at me so welcomingly, it looked so proudly at its clumsy neighbors that my heart rejoiced when I happened to pass by. Suddenly, last week, I was walking down the street and, as I looked at a friend, I heard a plaintive cry: “And they’re painting me in yellow paint! Villains! barbarians! they spared nothing: neither columns, nor cornices, and my friend turned yellow as a canary. I was almost filled with bile on this occasion, and I still was not able to see my disfigured poor man, who was painted with the Color of the Celestial Empire. So, you understand, reader, how familiar I am with all of St. Petersburg. I have already said that I was tormented by anxiety for three whole days, until I guessed the reason for it. And I felt bad on the street (this one wasn’t there, that one wasn’t there, where did so-and-so go?) - and at home I wasn’t myself. For two evenings I sought: what am I missing in my corner? Why was it so awkward to stay there? - and with bewilderment I looked around at my green, smoky walls, at the ceiling, hung with cobwebs that Matryona had been planting with great success, looked through all my furniture, examined every chair, thinking, is this where the trouble lies? (because if I have even one chair that’s not standing the way it was yesterday, then I’m not myself) I looked out the window, and it was all in vain... it didn’t feel any easier! I even decided to call Matryona and immediately gave her a fatherly reprimand for the cobweb and general sloppiness; but she just looked at me in surprise and walked away without answering a word, so that the web is still happily hanging in place. Finally, only this morning I figured out what was the matter. Eh! Yes, the Vedas are running away from me to the dacha! Forgive me for the trivial word, but I had no time for high-minded syllables... because everything that was in St. Petersburg either moved or moved to the dacha; because every respectable gentleman of respectable appearance who hired a cab driver, in my eyes, immediately turned into a respectable father of a family, who, after ordinary official duties, goes lightly to the depths of his family, to the dacha, because every passerby now had a completely special kind, who almost said to everyone he met: “We, gentlemen, are here only in passing, but in two hours we will leave for the dacha.” If the window opened, on which thin fingers, white as sugar, first drummed, and the head of a pretty girl poked out, beckoning a peddler with pots of flowers, I immediately, immediately imagined that these flowers were only bought for that reason, that is, not at all for that purpose. to enjoy spring and flowers in a stuffy city apartment, but that very soon everyone will move to the dacha and take the flowers with them. Moreover, I had already made such success in my new, special kind of discoveries that I could already unmistakably, by one look, indicate which dacha someone lived in. The inhabitants of the Kamenny and Aptekarsky islands or the Peterhof road were distinguished by their studied elegance of techniques, smart summer suits and beautiful carriages in which they arrived in the mountains. Residents of Pargolov and where further away, at first glance “inspired” with their prudence and solidity; the visitor to Krestovsky Island had a calm and cheerful appearance. Did I manage to meet a long procession of dray drivers, lazily walking with reins in their hands next to carts loaded with whole mountains of all kinds of furniture, tables, chairs, Turkish and non-Turkish sofas and other household belongings, on which, on top of all this, she often sat, at the very top Voza, a frugal cook who cherishes her master’s property like the apple of her eye; I looked at the boats, heavily loaded with household utensils, gliding along the Neva or Fontanka, to the Black River or the islands - the carts and boats multiplied tenfold, became lost in my eyes; it seemed that everything was up and moving, everything was moving in whole caravans to the dacha; it seemed that all of Petersburg was threatening to turn into a desert, so that finally I felt ashamed, offended and sad: I had absolutely nowhere to go and there was no need to go to the dacha. I was ready to leave with every cart, to leave with every gentleman of respectable appearance who hired a cab; but no one, absolutely no one, invited me; as if they had forgotten me, as if I were truly a stranger to them! I walked a lot and for a long time, so that I was already quite done, as is my custom; I forgot where I was, when suddenly I found myself at the outpost. Instantly I felt cheerful, and I stepped beyond the barrier, walked between the sown fields and meadows, did not hear fatigue, but only felt with all my strength that some burden was falling from my soul. All the passers-by looked at me so welcomingly that they almost bowed resolutely; everyone was so happy about something, every single one of them was smoking cigars. And I was glad as never before. It was as if I suddenly found myself in Italy - nature struck me so strongly, a half-sick city dweller who almost suffocated within the city walls. There is something inexplicably touching in our St. Petersburg nature, when, with the onset of spring, it suddenly shows all its power, all the powers given to it by the sky become feathered, discharged, adorned with flowers... Somehow, involuntarily, it reminds me of that girl, wasted and the ailment at which you sometimes look with regret, sometimes with some kind of compassionate love, sometimes you simply don’t notice it, but which suddenly, for one moment, somehow accidentally becomes inexplicably, wonderfully beautiful, and you are amazed, intoxicated, involuntarily You ask yourself: what force made these sad, thoughtful eyes shine with such fire? what brought the blood to those pale, thinner cheeks? What has filled these tender features with passion? Why is this chest heaving so much? What so suddenly brought strength, life and beauty to the face of the poor girl, made it sparkle with such a smile, come alive with such a sparkling, sparkling laugh? You look around, you are looking for someone, you guess... But the moment passes, and perhaps tomorrow you will again meet the same thoughtful and absent-minded look as before, the same pale face, the same humility and timidity in movements and even repentance, even traces of some kind of deadening melancholy and annoyance for a momentary passion... And it’s a pity for you that instant beauty withered so quickly, so irrevocably, that it flashed before you so deceptively and in vain - it’s a pity because You didn’t even have time to love her... But still my night was better than the day! Here's how it went: I came back to the city very late, and ten o’clock had already struck when I began to approach the apartment. My road went along the canal embankment, on which at this hour you will not meet a living soul. True, I live in the most remote part of the city. I walked and sang, because when I'm happy, I certainly hum something to myself, like everyone else. happy man who has neither friends nor good acquaintances and who, in a joyful moment, has no one to share his joy with. Suddenly the most unexpected adventure happened to me. A woman stood to the side, leaning against the canal railing; leaning her elbows on the bars, she apparently looked very carefully at muddy water channel. She was dressed in a cute yellow hat and a flirty black cape. “This is a girl, and definitely a brunette,” I thought. She didn’t seem to hear my steps, didn’t even move when I walked past, holding my breath and with my heart pounding. "Strange! - I thought, “she must be really thinking about something,” and suddenly I stopped dead in my tracks. I thought I heard a muffled sob. Yes! I was not deceived: the girl was crying, and a minute later there was more and more sobbing. My God! My heart sank. And no matter how timid I am with women, it was such a moment!.. I turned back, stepped towards her and would certainly have said: “Madam!” - if only I didn’t know that this exclamation has already been uttered a thousand times in all Russian high-society novels. This alone stopped me. But while I was looking for the word, the girl woke up, looked around, caught herself, looked down and slid past me along the embankment. I immediately followed her, but she guessed, left the embankment, crossed the street and walked along the sidewalk. I didn't dare cross the street. My heart was fluttering like a caught bird. Suddenly one incident came to my aid. On the other side of the sidewalk, not far from my stranger, a gentleman in a tailcoat, respectable years old, but one cannot say that he had a respectable gait, suddenly appeared. He walked, staggering and carefully leaning against the wall. The girl walked like an arrow, hastily and timidly, as all girls generally walk who do not want anyone to volunteer to accompany them home at night, and, of course, the swinging gentleman would never have caught up with her if my fate had not encouraged him to look for artificial remedies. Suddenly, without saying a word to anyone, my master takes off and flies as fast as he can, running, catching up with my stranger. She walked like the wind, but the swaying gentleman overtook, overtook, the girl screamed - and... I bless fate for the excellent knotty stick that happened this time in my right hand. I instantly found myself on the other side of the sidewalk, instantly the uninvited gentleman understood what was going on, took into account an irresistible reason, fell silent, fell behind, and only when we were already very far away did he protest against me in quite energetic terms. But his words barely reached us. “Give me your hand,” I said to my stranger, “and he won’t dare pester us anymore.” She silently gave me her hand, still trembling with excitement and fear. O uninvited master! how I blessed you at this moment! I glanced at her: she was pretty and brunette - I guessed right; Tears of recent fright or former grief still glistened on her black eyelashes - I don’t know. But a smile was already sparkling on his lips. She also glanced at me furtively, blushed slightly and looked down. “You see, why did you drive me away then?” If I had been here, nothing would have happened... - But I didn’t know you: I thought you too... - Do you really know me now? - A little. For example, why are you trembling? - Oh, you guessed it right the first time! - I answered in delight that my girlfriend is smart: this never interferes with beauty. - Yes, at first glance you guessed who you were dealing with. That’s right, I’m timid with women, I’m nervous, I don’t argue, no less than you were a minute ago when this gentleman scared you... I’m kind of scared now. It was like a dream, and even in my dreams I never imagined that I would ever talk to any woman.- How? really?.. “Yes, if my hand trembles, it’s because it has never been clasped by such a pretty little hand as yours.” I'm completely unaccustomed to women; that is, I never got used to them; I'm alone... I don't even know how to talk to them. And now I don’t know - did I tell you something stupid? Tell me straight; I warn you, I'm not touchy... - No, nothing, nothing; against. And if you already demand that I be frank, then I will tell you that women like such timidity; and if you want to know more, then I like her too, and I will not drive you away from me all the way home. “You will do to me,” I began, gasping with delight, “that I will immediately stop being timid, and then - goodbye to all my means!” - Facilities? what means, for what? This is really bad. - I’m sorry, I won’t, it just came out of my mouth; but how do you want there to be no desire at such a moment... — Do you like it, or what? - Well, yes; Yes, for God's sake, be kind. Judge who I am! After all, I’m already twenty-six years old, and I’ve never seen anyone. Well, how can I speak well, deftly and appropriately? It will be more profitable for you when everything is open, outward... I don’t know how to remain silent when my heart speaks in me. Well, it doesn’t matter... Believe it or not, not a single woman, ever, ever! No dating! and I only dream every day that finally, someday I will meet someone. Oh, if you only knew how many times I have been in love this way!.. - But how, in whom?.. - Yes, not to anyone, to the ideal, to the one you dream about in a dream. I create entire novels in my dreams. Oh, you don't know me! True, it’s impossible without that, I met two or three women, but what kind of women are they? these are all such housewives that... But I’ll make you laugh, I’ll tell you that several times I thought of talking, just like that, to some aristocrat on the street, of course, when she was alone; speak, of course, timidly, respectfully, passionately; to say that I am dying alone, so that she does not drive me away, that there is no way to recognize at least some woman; to inspire her that even in a woman’s duties it is not possible to refuse the timid plea of such an unfortunate person as me. That, finally, all I demand is just to say a few brotherly words to me, with sympathy, not to drive me away from the first step, to take my word for it, to listen to what I have to say, to laugh me, if you like, to reassure me, to say two words to me, just two words, then at least let her and I never meet!.. But you laugh... However, that’s why I’m saying it... - Don't be annoyed; I laugh at the fact that you are your own enemy, and if you had tried, you would have succeeded, perhaps, even if it was on the street; the simpler the better... None kind woman, unless she is stupid or especially angry about something at that moment, she would not dare to send you away without these two words that you so timidly beg... However, what am I! Of course, I would take you for a madman. I judged by myself. I myself know a lot about how people live in the world! “Oh, thank you,” I shouted, “you don’t know what you’ve done for me now!” - Good good! But tell me why you knew that I was the kind of woman with whom... well, whom you considered worthy... of attention and friendship... in a word, not a mistress, as you call it. Why did you decide to approach me? - Why? Why? But you were alone, that gentleman was too bold, now it’s night: you yourself must agree that this is a duty... - No, no, even before, there, on the other side. After all, you wanted to come to me? - There, on the other side? But I really don’t know how to answer; I'm afraid... You know, I was happy today; I walked, sang; I was out of town; I have never had such happy moments before. You... maybe it seemed to me... Well, forgive me if I remind you: it seemed to me that you were crying, and I... I couldn’t hear it... my heart was embarrassed... Oh , My God! Well, really, couldn’t I grieve for you? Was it really a sin to feel brotherly compassion for you?.. Sorry, I said compassion... Well, yes, in a word, could I really offend you by involuntarily taking it into my head to approach you?.. “Leave it, enough, don’t talk...” said the girl, looking down and squeezing my hand. “It’s my own fault for talking about this; but I’m glad that I wasn’t mistaken about you... but now I’m home; I need to come here, to the alley; there are two steps... Farewell, thank you... - So is it really, will we never see each other again?.. Will it really remain like this? “You see,” the girl said, laughing, “at first you only wanted two words, and now... But, however, I won’t tell you anything... Maybe we’ll meet... “I’ll come here tomorrow,” I said. - Oh, forgive me, I already demand... - Yes, you are impatient... you are almost demanding... - Listen, listen! - I interrupted her. - Forgive me if I tell you something like that again... But here’s the thing: I can’t help but come here tomorrow. I'm a dreamer; I have so little real life that I consider moments like this, as now, so rare that I cannot help but repeat these minutes in my dreams. I will dream about you all night, all week, all year. I will certainly come here tomorrow, exactly here, to this same place, at this very hour, and I will be happy, remembering yesterday. This place is so nice to me. I already have two or three such places in St. Petersburg. I even cried once from the memory, like you... Who knows, maybe you, ten minutes ago, cried from the memory... But forgive me, I forgot again; you may have ever been particularly happy here. “Okay,” said the girl, “I’ll probably come here tomorrow, also at ten o’clock.” I see that I can’t stop you anymore... That’s the thing, I need to be here; don’t think that I’m making an appointment with you; I'm warning you, I need to be here for myself. But... well, I’ll tell you straight out: it will be okay if you come; firstly, there may be troubles again, like today, but that’s aside... in a word, I would just like to see you... to say a few words to you. But, you see, you won’t judge me now? Don’t think that I make dates so easily... I would, if only... But let it be my secret! Just forward the agreement... - Agreement! say, say, say everything in advance; “I agree to anything, I’m ready for anything,” I cried out in delight, “I’m responsible for myself—I’ll be obedient, respectful... you know me... “It’s precisely because I know you that I’m inviting you tomorrow,” the girl said, laughing. - I know you completely. But, look, come with a condition; first of all (just be kind and do what I ask - you see, I’m speaking frankly), don’t fall in love with me... This is impossible, I assure you. I’m ready for friendship, here’s my hand to you... But you can’t fall in love, please! “I swear to you,” I shouted, grabbing her hand... - Come on, don’t swear, I know you can catch fire like gunpowder. Don't judge me if I say so. If only you knew... I also don’t have anyone with whom I could say a word, who I could ask for advice. Of course, you shouldn’t look for advisers on the street, but you’re an exception. I know you as if we had been friends for twenty years... Isn’t it true, you won’t change?.. “You’ll see... but I don’t know how I’ll survive even a day.” - Sleep better; good night - and remember that I have already entrusted myself to you. But you exclaimed so well just now: is it really possible to give an account of every feeling, even brotherly sympathy! Do you know, this was said so well that the thought immediately flashed through me of trusting you... - For God's sake, but what? What? - Till tomorrow. Let this be a secret for now. So much the better for you; at least from a distance it will look like a novel. Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow, or maybe not... I’ll talk to you in advance, we’ll get to know each other better... - Oh, yes, I’ll tell you everything about myself tomorrow! But what is it? It’s like a miracle is happening to me... Where am I, my God? Well, tell me, are you really unhappy that you didn’t get angry, as someone else would have done, and didn’t drive me away at the very beginning? Two minutes and you made me happy forever. Yes! happy; who knows, maybe you have reconciled me with yourself, resolved my doubts... Maybe such moments come to me... Well, I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, you’ll know everything, everything... - Okay, I accept; you will begin...- Agree. - Goodbye! - Goodbye! And we parted. I walked all night; I could not decide to return home. I was so happy... see you tomorrow!Retelling plan
1. Meet a dreamer.
2. Meeting of a dreamer with a stranger (commencement).
3. Nastenka tells him her love story.
4. The dreamer falls in love with her. Nastenka assures that she loves him too (climax).
5. The young man with whom the girl was in love returns. She leaves with her beloved, leaving the narrator (denouement).
Retelling
Night one
The story is told from the perspective of a young man, a “dreamer.” He is not rich, has been living in St. Petersburg for eight years, rents a small room, works somewhere, but has almost no acquaintances: “But why do I need acquaintances? I already know the whole of St. Petersburg.” He is timid and exists in his own world, calling himself a dreamer. The young man loves to wander around the city. It seems to him that each house has its own face, he talks to each as if he were alive. Among them he had “favorites, short friends.”
One day at the beginning of summer, when he was somehow especially sad, he walked for a long time and finally found himself at the outpost: “Instantly I felt happy, and I stepped beyond the barrier, walked past sown fields and meadows, did not hear fatigue, but felt , that some burden is being lifted from my soul... It was as if I suddenly found myself in Italy - nature struck me so strongly, a half-sick city dweller who almost suffocated within the city walls.” Returning home late at night along the canal embankment, he saw a girl leaning on the railing and looking into the water. He heard her sobs, but did not dare approach. The stranger walked away, and then some not entirely sober gentleman began to pursue her. Seeing the girl’s fright, the dreamer drove the man away and volunteered to accompany her. She trustingly agreed.
Along the way they met and started talking. The young man was overcome with delight because he saw a beautiful girl next to him and was talking to her. He talked about himself, about his dreams, about the fact that he had never been closely acquainted with any woman, but had been in love many times. To the girl’s bewilderment, he answered who he was in love with: “Nobody, ideally, the one you dream about. I create entire novels in my dreams.” The girl, touched by his frankness, agreed to meet him the next day: “On the condition... don’t fall in love with me. I’m ready for friendship... but I can’t fall in love, please!” The dreamer “walked all night, could not decide to return home: “I was so happy...”
Night two
Having met the hero, the girl asked him to tell about himself: “What kind of person are you? Hurry up - start, tell your story.” But the young man had nothing to talk about, he “had no story,” he lived “completely alone, alone, completely alone...” The girl decided that they had something in common. She said that she lives with an old blind grandmother who does not let her go anywhere. One day, the grandmother pinned her dress to hers so that her granddaughter would be next to her all the time: “she’s been pinned for two years now.” The girl said that her name was Nastenka. The hero did not give his name, but introduced himself to her as a dreamer, a lonely, unsociable hermit, an eccentric, rich in “his own special life,” carried away in his fantasies to God knows where. He talked about himself so excitedly that Nastenka shared his excitement. She decided to openly tell the dreamer her story and ask for his advice.
Nastenka is seventeen years old, she was left an orphan at an early age: her parents died, and she was raised by her grandmother. Grandmother has her own small house. They occupy the first floor and rent out the mezzanine to residents. One of the guests, a young man of “pleasant appearance,” became close to Nastya, gave her his books to read, and invited her and her grandmother to the theater. The girl saw that he simply felt sorry for her, “and nothing more.” Unbeknownst to herself, she fell in love with him.
But a year ago he suddenly said that his business in St. Petersburg was finished, and he had to go to Moscow. Nastenka thought for a long time, was sad, “yes, finally, she made up her mind”: she gathered her things into a bundle and went up to the lodger. The young man understood everything by her appearance, he also loved her, but he could not marry now, since he was very poor. He swore that in exactly a year he would return and marry her. And now he is in St. Petersburg, but has not yet appeared at Nastenka’s. The girl could not hold back her sobs, which made the hero’s “heart turn over.”
The narrator offered his help to the girl: he was ready to find her beloved and give him a letter. It turned out that the letter had already been written by Nastenka. She handed it to the dreamer and gave him the address.
Night three
The dreamer recalled his next meeting with Nastenka, his hopes, his love for her. He “thought that she too...” The former guest did not appear. The girl “frowned, became shy and became cowardly.” “Then she suddenly became so tender, so timid” with the dreamer, admitted that she was grateful to him, that he was “the most best person" The dreamer felt terrible loneliness, he realized that Nastenka still loved another... He consoled her with the fact that her lover, obviously, had not yet received her letter.
Night four
Having met the dreamer, Nastenka impatiently asks if he brought the letter. But there was neither the letter nor Nastenka’s beloved. She began to sob: “I don’t know him, I don’t love him anymore, I will... for... him...” The dreamer decided to express what was “boiling in his heart”: “I love you... Because you were rejected, I felt so much love in my heart!” The girl replied: “I love him, but this will pass, it’s already passing... I hate him because he laughed at me... I finally love you myself! That’s why I love you because you are better than him, more noble,” and she cried bitterly.
The young people decided that they would get married, but for now the dreamer would move to his grandmother’s house and rent a mezzanine: “We both walked around in a daze, in a fog, as if we ourselves didn’t know what was happening to us.” Suddenly a young man walked by. Nastya suddenly stopped, recognizing him. He took a few steps: “Nastenka! Nastenka! It's you!" - and the girl fluttered towards him. Then she ran up to the dreamer, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply and passionately. “Then she rushed to him again and pulled him along with her.”
Morning
“My nights ended in the morning. It wasn't a good day. It was raining... my head hurt and I was dizzy..."
Matryona brought a letter to the dreamer. It was from Nastenka. She wrote: “Oh, forgive me, forgive me! I deceived both you and myself. Thank you for this love. You will not leave us, you will forever be my friend, my brother... Next week I will marry him... he never forgot about me... forgive us, remember and love your Nastenka.”
The dreamer’s eyes were clouded with tears: “I don’t know why, I suddenly imagined that my room had grown old... everything had dimmed in my eyes... But so that I remember my offense, Nastenka! Oh, never, never! May your sky be clear, may you be blessed for the moment of bliss and happiness that you gave to another, lonely, grateful heart! My God! A whole minute of bliss! Is this really not enough, even for the rest of a person’s life?..”
A young man of twenty-six years old is a petty official who has been living for eight years in St. Petersburg in the 1840s, in one of the apartment buildings along the Catherine Canal, in a room with cobwebs and smoky walls. After his service favorite hobby- walks around the city. He notices passers-by and houses, some of them become his “friends”. However, he has almost no acquaintances among people. He is poor and lonely. With sadness, he watches as the residents of St. Petersburg gather for their dacha. He has nowhere to go. Going out of the city, he enjoys the northern spring nature, which looks like a “sick and sick” girl, for one moment becoming “wonderfully beautiful.”
Returning home at ten in the evening, the hero sees a female figure at the canal grate and hears sobbing. Sympathy prompts him to make an acquaintance, but the girl timidly runs away. A drunk man tries to pester her, and only a “bough stick”, which ends up in the hero’s hand, saves the pretty stranger. They talk to each other. The young man admits that before he knew only “housewives,” but he never spoke to “women” and therefore is very timid. This calms down the fellow traveler. She listens to the story about the “novels” that the guide created in his dreams, about falling in love with ideal fictional images, about the hope of someday meeting in reality with worthy of love girl. But now she’s almost home and wants to say goodbye. The dreamer begs for a new meeting. The girl “needs to be here for herself,” and she does not mind the presence of a new acquaintance tomorrow at the same hour in the same place. Her condition is “friendship”, “but you can’t fall in love.” Like the Dreamer, she needs someone to trust, someone to ask for advice.
On their second meeting, they decide to listen to each other's "stories". The hero begins. It turns out that he is a “type”: in the “strange corners of St. Petersburg” live “neuter creatures” like him - “dreamers” - whose “life is a mixture of something purely fantastic, ardently ideal and at the same time dull prosaic and ordinary " They are afraid of the company of living people, as they spend long hours among “magical ghosts,” in “ecstatic dreams,” and in imaginary “adventures.” “You speak as if you are reading a book,” Nastenka guesses the source of the plots and images of her interlocutor: the works of Hoffmann, Merimee, W. Scott, Pushkin. After intoxicating, “voluptuous” dreams, it can be painful to wake up in “loneliness”, in your “musty, unnecessary life.” The girl feels sorry for her friend, and he himself understands that “such a life is a crime and a sin.” After the “fantastic nights,” he already “has moments of sobering that are terrible.” "Dreams survive", the soul wants " real life" Nastenka promises the Dreamer that now they will be together. And here is her confession. She is an orphan. Lives with an old blind grandmother in a small house of her own. Until the age of fifteen I studied with a teacher, and two last year sits, “pinned” with a pin to the dress of her grandmother, who otherwise cannot keep track of her. A year ago they had a tenant, a young man of “pleasant appearance.” He gave his young mistress books by V. Scott, Pushkin and other authors. He invited them and their grandmother to the theater. The opera “The Barber of Seville” was especially memorable. When he announced that he was leaving, the poor recluse decided on a desperate act: she gathered her things in a bundle, came to the tenant’s room, sat down and “cryed in three streams.” Fortunately, he understood everything, and most importantly, he managed to fall in love with Nastenka. But he was poor and without a “decent place”, and therefore could not get married right away. They agreed that exactly a year later, having returned from Moscow, where he hoped to “arrange his affairs,” the young man would wait for his bride on a bench near the canal at ten o’clock in the evening. A year has passed. He has been in St. Petersburg for three days already. He is not at the appointed place... Now the hero understands the reason for the girl’s tears on the evening of their acquaintance. Trying to help, he volunteers to deliver her letter to the groom, which he does the next day.
Because of the rain, the third meeting of the heroes occurs only through the night. Nastenka is afraid that the groom will not come again, and cannot hide her excitement from her friend. She dreams feverishly about the future. The hero is sad because he himself loves the girl. And yet the Dreamer has enough selflessness to console and reassure the despondent Nastenka. Touched, the girl compares the groom with a new friend: “Why is he not you?.. He is worse than you, even though I love him more than you.” And he continues to dream: “Why aren’t we all like brothers and brothers? Why does the best person always seem to hide something from another and remain silent from him? everyone looks like that, as if he is harsher than he really is...” Gratefully accepting the Dreamer’s sacrifice, Nastenka also shows concern for him: “you are getting better,” “you will fall in love...” “God grant you happiness with her!” In addition, now her friendship is with the hero forever.
And finally the fourth night. The girl finally felt abandoned “inhumanly” and “cruelly.” The dreamer again offers help: go to the offender and force him to “respect” Nastenka’s feelings. However, pride awakens in her: she no longer loves the deceiver and will try to forget him. The “barbaric” act of the tenant sets off moral beauty a friend sitting next to him: “You wouldn’t do that? Wouldn’t you throw someone who would come to you on her own into the eyes of shameless mockery of her weak, stupid heart?” The dreamer no longer has the right to hide the truth that the girl has already guessed: “I love you, Nastenka!” He doesn’t want to “torment” her with his “selfishness” in a bitter moment, but what if his love turns out to be necessary? And indeed, the answer is: “I don’t love him, because I can only love what is generous, what understands me, what is noble...” If the Dreamer waits until the previous feelings completely subside, then the girl’s gratitude and love will go to him alone . Young people joyfully dream of a future together. At the moment of their farewell, the groom suddenly appears. Screaming and trembling, Nastenka breaks free from the hero’s hands and rushes towards him. Already, it would seem, the hope for happiness, for genuine life, that is coming true leaves the Dreamer. He silently looks after the lovers.
The next morning the hero receives from happy girl a letter asking for forgiveness for her unwitting deception and with gratitude for his love, which “cured” her “broken heart.” One of these days she is getting married. But her feelings are contradictory: “Oh God! If only I could love you both at once!” And yet the Dreamer must remain “eternally a friend, brother...”. Again he is alone in a suddenly “old” room. But even fifteen years later, he fondly remembers his short-lived love: “may you be blessed for the minute of bliss and happiness that you gave to another, lonely, grateful heart! A whole minute of bliss! Is this really not enough for even a person’s entire life?..”