Analysis of Bunin’s work “Easy Breathing. Ivan Bunin, “Easy Breathing”: analysis of the work

26.04.2019

Easy breathing
Ivan Alekseevich Bunin

Easy breathing
“A summer evening, a coachman's troika, an endless deserted highway...” Bunin's music of prose writing cannot be confused with any other, colors, sounds, smells live in it... Bunin did not write novels. But he brought the purely Russian genre of short story or short story, which received worldwide recognition, to perfection.

This book includes the most famous novels and short stories of the writer: “ Antonov apples", "Village", "Sukhodol", "Easy Breathing".

Ivan Bunin

Easy breathing

In the cemetery, above a fresh clay mound, there is a new cross made of oak, strong, heavy, smooth.

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

A rather large, convex porcelain medallion is embedded in the cross itself, and in the medallion is a photographic portrait of a schoolgirl with joyful, amazingly lively eyes.

This is Olya Meshcherskaya.

As a girl, she did not stand out in any way in the crowd of brown school dresses: what could be said about her, except that she is one of the pretty, rich and happy girls, that she is capable, but playful and very careless about the instructions given to her cool lady? Then she began to blossom and develop by leaps and bounds. At the age of fourteen, she had thin waist and slender legs, breasts and all those forms were already clearly outlined, the charm of which has never yet been expressed by human words; at fifteen she was already considered a beauty. How carefully some of her friends combed their hair, how clean they were, how careful they were about their restrained movements! But she was not afraid of anything - not ink stains on her fingers, not a flushed face, not disheveled hair, not a knee that became bare when falling while running. Without any of her worries or efforts and somehow imperceptibly, everything that distinguished her from the entire gymnasium in the last two years came to her - grace, elegance, dexterity, the clear sparkle of her eyes... No one danced at balls like Olya Meshcherskaya , no one skated like she did, no one was courted at balls as much as she was, and for some reason no one was loved as much junior classes like her. Imperceptibly she became a girl, and her high school fame was imperceptibly strengthened, and rumors were already spreading that she was flighty, could not live without admirers, that the school student Shenshin was madly in love with her, that she supposedly loved him too, but was so changeable in her treatment of him that he attempted suicide...

During her last winter, Olya Meshcherskaya went completely crazy with fun, as they said in the gymnasium. The winter was snowy, sunny, frosty, the sun set early behind the tall spruce forest of the snowy gymnasium garden, invariably fine, radiant, promising frost and sun for tomorrow, a walk on Sobornaya Street, an ice skating rink in the city garden, a pink evening, music and this in all directions the crowd gliding on the skating rink, in which Olya Meshcherskaya seemed the most carefree, the happiest. And then one day, during a big break, when she was rushing around the assembly hall like a whirlwind from the first-graders chasing her and squealing blissfully, she was unexpectedly called to the boss. She stopped running, took only one deep breath, straightened her hair with a quick and already familiar feminine movement, pulled the corners of her apron to her shoulders and, her eyes shining, ran upstairs. The boss, young-looking but gray-haired, sat calmly with knitting in her hands at her desk, under the royal portrait.

“Hello, Mademoiselle Meshcherskaya,” she said in French, without raising her eyes from her knitting. “Unfortunately, this is not the first time I have been forced to call you here to talk to you about your behavior.”

“I’m listening, madame,” Meshcherskaya answered, approaching the table, looking at her clearly and vividly, but without any expression on her face, and sat down as easily and gracefully as only she could.

“You won’t listen to me well, I, unfortunately, am convinced of this,” said the boss and, pulling the thread and spinning a ball on the varnished floor, which Meshcherskaya looked at with curiosity, she raised her eyes. “I won’t repeat myself, I won’t speak at length,” she said.

Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually clean and large office, which breathed so well in frosty days the warmth of a shiny Dutch dress and the freshness of lilies of the valley on the desk. She looked at the young king, depicted in full height in the middle of some brilliant hall, at the even parting in the milky, neatly crimped hair of the boss and was silent expectantly.

“You’re not a girl anymore,” the boss said meaningfully, secretly beginning to get irritated.

“Yes, madame,” Meshcherskaya answered simply, almost cheerfully.

“But not a woman either,” the boss said even more meaningfully, and her matte face turned slightly red. – First of all, what kind of hairstyle is this? This is a women's hairstyle!

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

- Oh, that’s it, it’s not your fault! - said the boss. - It’s not your fault for your hairstyle, it’s not your fault for these expensive combs, it’s not your fault that you’re ruining your parents for shoes that cost twenty rubles! But, I repeat to you, you completely lose sight of the fact that you are still only a high school student...

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

- Excuse me, madame, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And you know who is to blame for this? Dad's friend and neighbor, and your brother Alexey Mikhailovich Malyutin. This happened last summer in the village...

And a month after this conversation, a Cossack officer, ugly and plebeian in appearance, who had absolutely nothing in common with the circle to which Olya Meshcherskaya belonged, shot her on the station platform, among a large crowd of people who had just arrived by train. And the incredible confession of Olya Meshcherskaya, which stunned the boss, was completely confirmed: the officer told the judicial investigator that Meshcherskaya had lured him, was close to him, vowed to be his wife, and at the station, on the day of the murder, accompanying him to Novocherkassk, she suddenly told him that she and never thought to love him, that all this talk about marriage was just her mockery of him, and she gave him to read that page of the diary that talked about Malyutin.

“I ran through these lines and right there, on the platform where she was walking, waiting for me to finish reading, I shot at her,” said the officer. - This diary is here, look what was written in it on the tenth of July last year.

The diary wrote the following:

“It’s two o’clock in the morning. I fell fast asleep, but immediately woke up... Today I have become a woman! Dad, mom and Tolya all left for the city, I was left alone. I was so happy to be alone! In the morning I walked in the garden, in the field, was in the forest, it seemed to me that I was alone in the whole world, and I thought as well as I had ever thought in my life. I had lunch alone, then played for a whole hour, listening to the music I had the feeling that I would live endlessly and be as happy as anyone. Then I fell asleep in my dad’s office, and at four o’clock Katya woke me up and said that Alexei Mikhailovich had arrived. I was very happy about him, I was so pleased to accept him and keep him busy. He arrived in a pair of his Vyatkas, very beautiful, and they stood at the porch all the time; he stayed because it was raining and he wanted it to dry out by the evening. He regretted that he didn’t find dad, he was very animated and behaved like a gentleman with me, he joked a lot that he had been in love with me for a long time. When we walked around the garden before tea, the weather was again lovely, the sun shone through the entire wet garden, although it had become completely cold, and he led me by the arm and said that he was Faust with Margarita. He is fifty-six years old, but he is still very handsome and always well dressed - the only thing I didn’t like was that he arrived in a lionfish - he smells of English cologne, and his eyes are very young, black, and his beard is gracefully divided into two long parts and completely silver. Over tea we sat on the glass veranda, I felt as if unwell and lay down on the ottoman, and he smoked, then moved to me, began again to say some pleasantries, then examined and kissed my hand. I covered my face with a silk scarf, and he kissed me on the lips through the scarf several times... I don’t understand how this could happen, I’m crazy, I never thought I was like this! Now I have only one way out... I feel such disgust for him that I can’t get over it!..”

City for these April days it became clean, dry, its stones turned white, and it was easy and pleasant to walk on them. Every Sunday, after mass, a small woman in mourning, wearing black kid gloves and carrying an ebony umbrella, walks along Cathedral Street, leading to the exit from the city. She crosses a dirty square along the highway, where there are many smoky forges and the fresh air of the field blows; further, between the monastery and the fort, the cloudy slope of the sky turns white and the spring field turns grey, and then, when you make your way among the puddles under the wall of the monastery and turn left, you will see what appears to be a large low garden, surrounded by a white fence, above the gate of which is written the Dormition of the Mother of God. The little woman makes the sign of the cross and walks habitually along the main alley. Having reached the bench opposite the oak cross, she sits in the wind and in the spring cold for an hour or two, until her feet in light boots and her hand in a narrow kid are completely cold. Listening to the spring birds singing sweetly even in the cold, listening to the sound of the wind in a porcelain wreath, she sometimes thinks that she would give half her life if only this dead wreath would not be before her eyes. This wreath, this mound, the oak cross! Is it possible that under him is the one whose eyes shine so immortally from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross, and how can we combine with this pure gaze the terrible thing that is now associated with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya? But deep down, the little woman is happy, like all people devoted to some passionate dream.

This woman is the cool lady Olya Meshcherskaya, a middle-aged girl who has long lived in some kind of fiction that replaces her real life. At first, her brother, a poor and unremarkable ensign, was such an invention - she united her whole soul with him, with his future, which for some reason seemed brilliant to her. When he was killed near Mukden, she convinced herself that she was an ideological worker. The death of Olya Meshcherskaya captivated her with a new dream. Now Olya Meshcherskaya is the subject of her persistent thoughts and feelings. She goes to her grave every holiday, does not take her eyes off the oak cross for hours, remembers the pale face of Olya Meshcherskaya in the coffin, among the flowers - and what she once overheard: one day during a big break, walking through the gymnasium garden, Olya Meshcherskaya quickly, quickly said to her beloved friend, plump, tall Subbotina:

- I’m in one of my dad’s books - he has a lot of old ones, funny books- I read what kind of beauty a woman should have... There, you see, so much is said that you can’t remember everything: well, of course, black eyes, boiling with resin - by God, that’s what it says: boiling with resin! - eyelashes black as night, a gentle blush, a thin figure, longer than an ordinary arm - you know, longer than usual! – small leg, in moderation big breasts, correctly rounded calf, shell-colored knees, sloping shoulders - I almost learned a lot by heart, it’s all so true! – but most importantly, you know what? Easy breathing! But I have it,” listen to how I sigh, “I really have it, don’t I?”

Now this light breath has again dissipated in the world, in this cloudy sky, in this cold spring wind.

And again about love... And if about love, then definitely about Ivan Alekseevich Bunin, because so far he has no equal in literature in his ability to so deeply, precisely,

and at the same time, it is natural and easy to convey an endless palette of colors and shades of life, love and human destinies, and what is most surprising is all this on two or three sheets. In his stories, time is inversely proportional to the emerging fullness of feelings and emotions. You read his story “Easy Breathing” (analysis of the work follows), and it takes at most five to ten minutes, but at the same time you manage to immerse yourself in the life, and even the soul of the main characters, and live with them for several decades, and sometimes all my life. Isn't this a miracle?

Story by I.A. Bunin “Easy Breathing”: analysis and summary

From the first lines, the author introduces the reader to the main character of the story - Olya Meshcherskaya. But what kind of acquaintance is this? Analysis of the story “Easy Breathing” draws attention to the scene of action - a cemetery, a fresh clay mound on the grave and a heavy smooth cross made of oak. The time is cold, gray days of April, still bare trees, icy wind. A medallion is inserted into the cross itself, and in the medallion is a portrait of a young girl, a high school student, with happy, “amazingly lively eyes.” As you can see, the narrative is based on contrasts, hence the dual sensations: life and death - spring, April, but still bare trees; a strong grave cross with a portrait of a young girl in the prime of awakening femininity. You can’t help but wonder what this earthly life is, and you’re amazed at how close the atoms of life and death are to each other, and with them beauty and ugliness, simplicity and guile, stunning success and tragedy...

Main character

The principle of contrast is used both in the image of Olechka Meshcherskaya herself and in the description of her short but brilliant life. As a girl, she did not attract attention to herself. The only thing that could be said was that she was one of the many sweet, rich and absolutely happy girls who, due to their age, are playful and careless. However, she soon began to develop rapidly and become prettier, and at less than fifteen she had a reputation a real beauty. She was not afraid of anything and was not embarrassed, and at the same time, her fingers or disheveled hair looked much more natural, neat and elegant than the deliberate neatness or thoroughness of the styled hair of her friends. No one danced as gracefully at balls as she did. No one skated as skillfully as she did. No one had as many fans as Olya Meshcherskaya... The analysis of the story “Easy Breathing” does not end there.

Last winter

As they said in the gymnasium, “Olya Meshcherskaya went completely crazy with fun during her last winter.” She flaunts herself everywhere: she combs her hair provocatively, wears expensive combs, and ruins her parents for shoes “that cost twenty rubles.” She openly and simply declares to the headmistress that she is no longer a girl, but a woman... She flirts with the high school student Shenshin, promises him to be faithful and loving and at the same time is so fickle and capricious in her treatment of him, once leading him to attempt suicide. She, in fact, lures and seduces Alexei Mikhailovich Malyutin, an adult fifty-six years old, and then, realizing her disadvantageous position, as an excuse for her dissolute behavior, evokes a feeling of disgust for him. Further - more... Olya enters into a relationship with a Cossack officer, ugly, plebeian in appearance, who had nothing in common with the society in which she moved, and promises him to marry him. And at the station, seeing him off to Novocherkassk, he says that there can be no love between them, and all this talk is just mockery and ridicule of him. As proof of her words, she gives him to read the page of the diary that talks about her first connection with Malyutin. Unable to bear the insult, the officer shoots at her right there on the platform... This begs the question: why, why does she need all this? What corners human soul trying to reveal to us the work “Easy Breathing” (Bunin)? Sequence Analysis main character will allow the reader to answer these and other questions.

Fluttering Moth

And here the image of a fluttering moth involuntarily suggests itself, frivolous, reckless, but with an incredible thirst for life, the desire to find some kind of special, exciting and beautiful destiny, worthy only of the chosen ones. But life is subject to other laws and rules, the violation of which must be paid for. Therefore, Olya Meshcherskaya, like a moth, bravely, without feeling fear, and at the same time easily and naturally, regardless of the feelings of others, flies towards the fire, towards the light of life, towards new sensations, in order to burn to the ground: “This is what a pen does, sliding over smooth the lined notebook, not knowing about the fate of your line, where wisdom and heresy are mixed..." (Brodsky)

Controversies

Indeed, everything was mixed up in Olya Meshcherskaya. “Easy Breathing”, an analysis of the story, allows us to identify an antithesis in the work - a sharp opposition of concepts, images, states. She is beautiful and immoral at the same time. She cannot be called stupid, she was capable, but at the same time superficial and thoughtless. There was no cruelty in her, “for some reason, no one was loved as much by the lower classes as she was.” Her merciless attitude towards other people's feelings was not meaningful. She, like a raging element, demolished everything in her path, but not because she sought to destroy and suppress, but only because she could not do otherwise: “... how to combine with this pure look the terrible thing that is now associated with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya?” Both beauty was her essence, and she was not afraid to show both to the fullest extent. That’s why they loved her so much, they admired her, they were drawn to her, and that’s why her life was so bright, but fleeting. It couldn’t have been any other way, as the narrative “Easy Breathing” (Bunin) proves to us. Analysis of the work gives a deeper understanding of the life of the main character.

Cool lady

The antithetical composition (antithesis) is observed both in the description of the very image of the classy lady Olechka Meshcherskaya, and in the indirect, but so predictable comparison of her with the schoolgirl under her charge. For the first time, I. Bunin (“Easy Breathing”) introduces the reader to a new character - the headmistress of the gymnasium, in the scene of a conversation between her and Mademoiselle Meshcherskaya regarding the latter’s defiant behavior. And what do we see? Two absolute opposites - a youthful, but gray-haired madame with an even parting in her neatly crimped hair and light, graceful Olya with a beautifully styled hairstyle, albeit beyond her years, with an expensive comb. One behaves simply, clearly and lively, fearing nothing and boldly responding to reproaches, despite such a young age and unequal position. The other one does not take her eyes off her endless knitting and secretly begins to get annoyed.

After the tragedy happened

We remind you that we are talking about the story “Easy Breathing”. An analysis of the work follows. Second and last time the reader encounters the image of a classy lady after Olya’s death, in the cemetery. And again we have a sharp but bright clarity of antithesis. A “middle-aged girl” in black kid gloves and in mourning goes to Olya’s grave every Sunday, staring at the oak cross for hours. She dedicated her life to some kind of “ethereal” feat. At first, she was concerned about the fate of her brother, Alexei Mikhailovich Malyutin, that same wonderful warrant officer who seduced the beautiful high school student. After his death, she devoted herself to work, merging entirely with the image of an “ideological worker.” Now Olya Meshcherskaya - main topic all her thoughts and feelings, one might say, a new dream, a new meaning of life. However, can her life be called life? Yes and no. On the one hand, everything that exists in the world is necessary and has the right to exist, despite the worthlessness and uselessness that seems to us. On the other hand, in comparison with the splendor, brilliance and audacity of colors short life Olya, this is more of a “slow death”. But, as they say, the truth is somewhere in the middle, because the picture is colorful life path a young girl is also an illusion, behind which lies emptiness.

Talk

The story “Easy Breathing” does not end there. A cool lady spends a lot of time sitting near her grave and endlessly remembers the same conversation between two girls that she overheard one day... Olya was chatting with her friend during a big break and mentioned a book from her father’s library. It talked about what a woman should be like. First of all, with large black, boiling resin eyes, with thick eyelashes, a gentle blush, longer than usual arms, a thin figure... But the main thing is that the woman had to be able to breathe easily. Taken literally by Olya - she sighed and listened to her breathing, the expression “light breathing” still reflects the essence of her soul, thirsty for life, striving for its fullness and alluring infinity. However, “easy breathing” (analysis story of the same name is coming to an end) cannot be eternal. Like everything worldly, like the life of any person and like the life of Olya Meshcherskaya, sooner or later it disappears, dissipates, perhaps becoming part of this world, the cold spring wind or the leaden sky.

What can be said in conclusion about the story “Easy Breathing”, the analysis of which was carried out above? Written in 1916, long before the publication of the collection “ Dark alleys“, the short story “Easy Breathing” can be called, without exaggeration, one of the pearls of I. Bunin’s work.

I. Bunin “Easy Breathing” - plot and analysis

The story “Easy Breathing” is rightfully considered one of Ivan Bunin’s outstanding works. This short story tells about a beautiful young girl and her tragic fate.

The composition of the work is unusual and original. The author's intention is conveyed by violating traditional chronological framework narratives. The text also uses techniques of contrast and antithesis. From the first words, a gloomy and sad picture of the cemetery opens before the reader. “...the monuments of the spacious county cemetery are still visible far away through the bare trees, and the cold wind rings the porcelain wreath at the foot of the cross.” And right there, in contrast with the cemetery landscape, “a photographic portrait of a high school student with joyful, amazingly lively eyes.” Life and death, joy and sadness - all this seems to be a symbol of the fate of the main character of the story.

Next, the author introduces us to the heroine, Olya Meshcherskaya. He describes in sufficient detail her appearance, the extraordinary natural ease with which Olya turns from a girl into a beautiful girl. “Without any of her worries or efforts, and somehow imperceptibly, everything that so distinguished her in the last two years from the rest of the gymnasium came to her - grace, elegance, dexterity, the clear sparkle of her eyes.” The author puts her liveliness and naturalness in contrast with the gray and conventional world. Everyone admires Olya’s beauty and charm, her students like her, and she has many fans. At the same time, everyone considers the girl flighty, many envy her. There were rumors about her that she could not live without fans, but at the same time she treated them very cruelly. The headmistress of the gymnasium made a remark to Olya about her behavior and appearance, accused her of behaving like adult woman, not a student. To which Olya openly stated that she had already become a woman.

The author presents an excerpt from the girl’s diary, which tells how her parents’ friend Malyutin, a man many years older, seduced her. Olya's easy approach to life and carefree attitude led her to a dead end. She didn’t immediately realize what she was losing. Only later, realizing the horror of the situation, did she feel fear, shame and disappointment. “I don’t understand how this could happen, I’m crazy, I never thought I was like this! Now I have only one way out... I feel such disgust for him that I can’t get over it!..”
Olga's life ends tragically. Malyutin shot Olga at the station. He explained this by saying that he was in a state of passion, because she showed him her diary with a description of the events and her attitude to the situation. The author does not give his explanations for Malyutin’s action. Perhaps he simply could not forgive her for her hurt pride.

At the end of the story we again find ourselves in the cemetery. The cool lady Olya Meshcherskaya comes to visit her grave every holiday. This woman lives in a fictional world in which Olya has become for her the ideal of femininity, beauty and at the same time tragedy.
What made Olya Meshcherskaya stand out from the gray everyday world? She radiated cheerfulness and good spirits, courage and happiness. She lived for today and enjoyed every minute of her life. “...But the main thing is, you know what? Easy breathing! But I have it,” listen to how I sigh, “I really do?” - Olya said to her friend. The tragedy of Olya’s fate is that while living an easy and carefree life, she forgot about the cruel reality of society, which broke all her dreams.

Easy breathing

“A summer evening, a coachman's troika, an endless deserted highway...” Bunin's music of prose writing cannot be confused with any other, colors, sounds, smells live in it... Bunin did not write novels. But he brought the purely Russian genre of short story or short story, which received worldwide recognition, to perfection.

This book includes the most famous novels and short stories of the writer: “Antonov Apples”, “Village”, “Sukhodol”, “Easy Breathing”.

Ivan Bunin Easy breathing

In the cemetery, above a fresh clay mound, there is a new cross made of oak, strong, heavy, smooth.

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

A rather large, convex porcelain medallion is embedded in the cross itself, and in the medallion is a photographic portrait of a schoolgirl with joyful, amazingly lively eyes.

This is Olya Meshcherskaya.

As a girl, she did not stand out in any way in the crowd of brown school dresses: what could be said about her, except that she was one of the pretty, rich and happy girls, that she was capable, but playful and very careless about the instructions that the classy lady gave her ? Then she began to blossom and develop by leaps and bounds. At the age of fourteen, with a thin waist and slender legs, her breasts and all those forms, the charm of which had never yet been expressed by human words, were already clearly outlined; at fifteen she was already considered a beauty. How carefully some of her friends combed their hair, how clean they were, how careful they were about their restrained movements! But she was not afraid of anything - not ink stains on her fingers, not a flushed face, not disheveled hair, not a knee that became bare when falling while running. Without any of her worries or efforts and somehow imperceptibly, everything that distinguished her from the entire gymnasium in the last two years came to her - grace, elegance, dexterity, the clear sparkle of her eyes... No one danced at balls like Olya Meshcherskaya , no one ran on skates like she did, no one was courted as much at balls as she was, and for some reason no one was loved as much by the junior classes as she was. Imperceptibly she became a girl, and her high school fame was imperceptibly strengthened, and rumors were already spreading that she was flighty, could not live without admirers, that the school student Shenshin was madly in love with her, that she supposedly loved him too, but was so changeable in her treatment of him that he attempted suicide...

Meshcherskaya really liked this unusually clean and large office, which on frosty days breathed so well with the warmth of a shiny Dutch dress and the freshness of lilies of the valley on the desk. She looked at the young king, depicted in full height in the middle of some brilliant hall, at the even parting in the milky, neatly crimped hair of the boss and was silent expectantly.

“You’re not a girl anymore,” the boss said meaningfully, secretly beginning to get irritated.

“Yes, madame,” Meshcherskaya answered simply, almost cheerfully.

“But not a woman either,” the boss said even more meaningfully, and her matte face turned slightly red. – First of all, what kind of hairstyle is this? This is a women's hairstyle!

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

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

The diary wrote the following:

During these April days, the city became clean, dry, its stones turned white, and it was easy and pleasant to walk along them. Every Sunday, after mass, a small woman in mourning, wearing black kid gloves and carrying an ebony umbrella, walks along Cathedral Street, leading to the exit from the city. She crosses a dirty square along the highway, where there are many smoky forges and the fresh air of the field blows; further, between the monastery and the fort, the cloudy slope of the sky turns white and the spring field turns grey, and then, when you make your way among the puddles under the wall of the monastery and turn left, you will see what appears to be a large low garden, surrounded by a white fence, above the gate of which is written the Dormition of the Mother of God. The little woman makes the sign of the cross and walks habitually along the main alley. Having reached the bench opposite the oak cross, she sits in the wind and in the spring cold for an hour or two, until her feet in light boots and her hand in a narrow kid are completely cold. Listening to the spring birds singing sweetly even in the cold, listening to the sound of the wind in a porcelain wreath, she sometimes thinks that she would give half her life if only this dead wreath would not be before her eyes. This wreath, this mound, the oak cross! Is it possible that under him is the one whose eyes shine so immortally from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross, and how can we combine with this pure gaze the terrible thing that is now associated with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya? But deep down, the little woman is happy, like all people devoted to some passionate dream.

“I read in one of my dad’s books—he has a lot of old, funny books—what kind of beauty a woman should have... There, you know, there are so many sayings that you can’t remember everything: well, of course, black eyes boiling with resin—by God.” , as it is written: boiling with resin! - eyelashes black as night, a gentle blush, a thin figure, longer than an ordinary arm - you know, longer than usual! - small legs, moderately large breasts, properly rounded calves, shell-colored knees, sloping shoulders - I almost learned a lot by heart, it’s all so true! – but most importantly, you know what? Easy breathing! But I have it,” listen to how I sigh, “I really have it, don’t I?”

Now this light breath has again dissipated in the world, in this cloudy sky, in this cold spring wind.

BREATHING EASY

In the cemetery, above a fresh clay mound, there is a new cross made of oak, strong, heavy, smooth.

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

Embedded in the cross itself is a rather large, convex porcelain medallion, and in the medallion is a photographic portrait of a schoolgirl with joyful, amazingly lively eyes.

As a girl, she did not stand out in any way in the crowd of brown school dresses: what could be said about her, except that she was one of the pretty, rich and happy girls, that she was capable, but playful and very careless about the instructions that the classy lady gave her ? Then she began to blossom and develop by leaps and bounds. At the age of fourteen, with a thin waist and slender legs, her breasts and all those forms, the charm of which had never yet been expressed by human words, were already clearly outlined; at fifteen she was already considered a beauty. How carefully some of her friends combed their hair, how clean they were, how careful they were about their restrained movements! But she was not afraid of anything - not ink stains on her fingers, not a flushed face, not disheveled hair, not a knee that became bare when falling while running. Without any of her worries or efforts, and somehow imperceptibly, everything that had so distinguished her from the entire gymnasium in the last two years came to her - grace, elegance, dexterity, the clear sparkle of her eyes... No one danced at balls like Olya Meshcherskaya, no one was as good at skating as she was, no one was looked after at balls as much as she was, and for some reason no one was loved as much by the junior classes as she was. Imperceptibly she became a girl, and her high school fame was imperceptibly strengthened, and rumors were already spreading that she was flighty, could not live without admirers, that the school student Shenshin was madly in love with her, that she supposedly loved him too, but was so changeable in her treatment of him that he attempted suicide.

“You won’t listen to me well, I, unfortunately, am convinced of this,” said the boss and, pulling the thread and spinning a ball on the varnished floor, which Meshcherskaya looked at with curiosity, raised her eyes. “I won’t repeat myself, I won’t speak at length,” she said.

“You’re not a girl anymore,” the boss said meaningfully, secretly starting to get irritated.

“Yes, madame,” Meshcherskaya answered simply, almost cheerfully.

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

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

- Oh, that’s it, it’s not your fault! - said the boss. “It’s not your fault for your hairstyle, it’s not your fault for these expensive combs, it’s not your fault that you’re ruining your parents for shoes that cost twenty rubles!” But, I repeat to you, you completely lose sight of the fact that you are still only a high school student...

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

- Excuse me, madame, you are mistaken: I am a woman. And you know who is to blame for this? Dad's friend and neighbor, and your brother Alexey Mikhailovich Malyutin. It happened last summer in the village...

“I ran through these lines and right there, on the platform where she was walking, waiting for me to finish reading, I shot at her,” said the officer. - This diary, here it is, look what was written in it on the tenth of July last year.

The diary wrote the following:

“It’s two o’clock in the morning. I fell asleep soundly, but woke up immediately... Today I have become a woman! Dad, mom and Tolya all left for the city, I was left alone. I was so happy to be alone! In the morning I walked in the garden, in the field, was in the forest, it seemed to me that I was alone in the whole world, and I thought as well as I had ever thought in my life. I had lunch alone, then played for a whole hour, listening to the music I had the feeling that I would live endlessly and be as happy as anyone. Then I fell asleep in my dad’s office, and at four o’clock Katya woke me up and said that Alexei Mikhailovich had arrived. I was very happy about him, I was so pleased to accept him and keep him busy. He arrived in a pair of his Vyatkas, very beautiful, and they stood at the porch all the time; he stayed because it was raining and he wanted it to dry out by the evening. He regretted that he didn’t find dad, he was very animated and behaved like a gentleman with me, he joked a lot that he had been in love with me for a long time. When we walked around the garden before tea, the weather was again lovely, the sun shone through the entire wet garden, although it had become completely cold, and he led me by the arm and said that he was Faust with Margarita. He is fifty-six years old, but he is still very handsome and always well dressed - the only thing I didn’t like was that he arrived in a lionfish - he smells of English cologne, and his eyes are very young, black, and his beard is gracefully divided into two long parts and completely silver. Over tea we sat on the glass veranda, I felt as if unwell and lay down on the ottoman, and he smoked, then moved to me, began again to say some pleasantries, then examined and kissed my hand. I covered my face with a silk scarf, and he kissed me on the lips through the scarf several times... I don’t understand how this could happen, I’m crazy, I never thought I was like this! Now I have only one way out... I feel such disgust for him that I can’t get over it!..”

During these April days, the city became clean, dry, its stones turned white, and it was easy and pleasant to walk along them. Every Sunday, after mass, a small woman in mourning, wearing black kid gloves and carrying an ebony umbrella, walks along Cathedral Street, leading to the exit from the city. She crosses a dirty square along the highway, where there are many smoky forges and the fresh air of the field blows; further, between the monastery and the fort, the cloudy slope of the sky turns white and the spring field turns gray, and then, when you make your way among the puddles under the wall of the monastery and turn left, you will see what looks like a large low garden, surrounded by a white fence, above the gate of which is written the Assumption mother of god. The little woman makes the sign of the cross and walks habitually along the main alley. Having reached the bench opposite the oak cross, she sits in the wind and in the spring cold for an hour or two, until her feet in light boots and her hand in a narrow kid are completely cold. Listening to the spring birds singing sweetly even in the cold, listening to the sound of the wind in a porcelain wreath, she sometimes thinks that she would give half her life if only this dead wreath would not be before her eyes. This wreath, this mound, the oak cross! Is it possible that under him is the one whose eyes shine so immortally from this convex porcelain medallion on the cross, and how can we combine with this pure gaze the terrible thing that is now associated with the name of Olya Meshcherskaya? “But deep down in her soul, the little woman is happy, like all people devoted to some passionate dream.

This woman is the classy lady Olya Meshcherskaya, a middle-aged girl who has long lived in some kind of fiction that replaces her real life. At first, her brother, a poor and unremarkable ensign, was such an invention; she united her entire soul with him, with his future, which for some reason seemed brilliant to her. When he was killed near Mukden, she convinced herself that she was an ideological worker. The death of Olya Meshcherskaya captivated her with a new dream. Now Olya Meshcherskaya is the subject of her persistent thoughts and feelings. She goes to her grave every holiday, does not take her eyes off the oak cross for hours, remembers the pale face of Olya Meshcherskaya in the coffin, among the flowers - and what she once overheard: one day, during a long break, walking through the gymnasium garden, Olya Meshcherskaya quickly, quickly said to her beloved friend, plump, tall Subbotina:

“I read in one of my dad’s books—he has a lot of old, funny books—what kind of beauty a woman should have... There, you know, there are so many sayings that you can’t remember everything: well, of course, black eyes boiling with resin, - By God, that’s what it says: boiling with resin! - eyelashes as black as night, a gentle blush, a thin figure, longer than an ordinary arm - you know, longer than usual! - small legs, moderately large breasts, properly rounded calves, shell-colored knees, sloping shoulders - I almost learned a lot by heart, it’s all so true! - but most importantly, you know what? - Easy breathing! But I have it,” listen to how I sigh, “I really have it, don’t I?”

Now this light breath has again dissipated in the world, in this cloudy sky, in this cold spring wind.

1916