Chapter VIII
Games
The hunt is over. A carpet was spread out in the shade of young birch trees, and the whole group was sitting in a circle on the carpet. The barman Gavrilo, having crushed the green, juicy grass near him, was grinding the plates and taking out plums and peaches wrapped in leaves from the box. The sun shone through the green branches of young birches and cast round, swaying gaps on the patterns of the carpet, on my legs, and even on Gavrila’s bald, sweaty head. A light breeze, running through the leaves of the trees, through my hair and sweaty face, refreshed me extremely.
When we were given ice cream and fruit, there was nothing to do on the carpet, and we, despite the slanting, scorching rays of the sun, got up and went to play.
- Well, what? - said Lyubochka, squinting from the sun and jumping on the grass. - Let's go to Robinson.
“No... it’s boring,” said Volodya, lazily lying on the grass and chewing leaves, “always Robinson!” If you absolutely want it, then let’s build a gazebo.
Volodya put on a noticeable air of importance: he must have been proud that he had arrived on a hunting horse, and pretended to be very tired. It may also be that he already had too much common sense and too little imagination to fully enjoy playing Robinson. This game consisted of representing scenes from Robinson Suisse, which we had read shortly before.
- Well, please... why don’t you want to give us this pleasure? – the girls pestered him. - Will you be Charles, or Ernest, or father - whichever you want? - Katenka said, trying to lift him from the ground by the sleeve of his jacket.
- Really, I don’t want to - it’s boring! - Volodya said, stretching and at the same time smiling smugly.
“It would be better to stay at home if no one wants to play,” Lyubochka said through tears.
She was a terrible crybaby.
- Well, let's go; Just don’t cry, please: I can’t stand it!
Volodya's indulgence gave us very little pleasure; on the contrary, his lazy and boring appearance destroyed all the charm of the game. When we sat down on the ground and, imagining that we were sailing to fish, began to row with all our might, Volodya sat with folded arms and in a pose that had nothing in common with the pose of a fisherman. I noticed this to him; but he answered that because we wave our hands more or less, we will neither win nor lose anything, and yet we will not go far. I involuntarily agreed with him. When, imagining that I was going hunting, with a stick on my shoulder, I went into the forest, Volodya lay down on his back, threw his hands under his head and told me that it was as if he had walked too. Such actions and words, discouraging us from playing, were extremely unpleasant, especially since it was impossible not to agree in our hearts that Volodya was acting prudently.
I myself know that you can’t just kill a bird with a stick, but you can’t even shoot it. It's a game. If you think like that, then you can’t ride on chairs; and Volodya, I think, himself remembers how on long winter evenings we covered the chair with scarves, made a carriage out of it, one sat as a coachman, another as a footman, the girls in the middle, three chairs were three horses - and we set off on the road. And what different adventures happened on this road! and how fun and quickly the winter evenings passed!.. If you really judge, then there will be no game. But there won’t be a game, then what remains?..
Chapter IX
Something like first love
Imagining that she was tearing some American fruit from a tree, Lyubochka picked a huge worm on one leaf, threw it to the ground in horror, raised her hands up and jumped back, as if afraid that something would splash out of it. The game stopped: we all fell to the ground with our heads together - watching this rarity.
I looked over Katenka’s shoulder, who was trying to pick up a worm on a leaf, exposing it to him on the road.
I noticed that many girls have the habit of twitching their shoulders, trying with this movement to bring the dropped dress with an open neck to its real place. I also remember that Mimi was always angry about this movement and said: “C’est un geste de femme de chambre.” Bending over the worm, Katenka made this same movement, and at the same time the wind lifted the scarf from her little white neck. During this movement, the shoulder was two fingers from my lips. I no longer looked at the worm, I looked and looked and kissed Katenka’s shoulder with all my might. She didn’t turn around, but I noticed that her neck and ears were red. Volodya, without raising his head, said contemptuously:
- What kind of tenderness?
I had tears in my eyes.
I didn’t take my eyes off Katenka. I have long been accustomed to her fresh, fair face and have always loved it; but now I began to look more closely at him and fell in love with him even more. When we approached the big ones, dad, to our great joy, announced that, at mother’s request, the trip was postponed until tomorrow morning.
We went back with the line. Volodya and I, wanting to surpass each other in the art of riding and youthfulness, pranced around her. My shadow was longer than before, and judging by it, I assumed that I had the appearance of a rather handsome horseman; but the feeling of complacency that I experienced was soon destroyed by the following circumstance. Wanting to completely seduce everyone sitting in the line, I lagged behind a little, then, with the help of a whip and legs, I sped up my horse, assumed a naturally graceful position and wanted to rush past them like a whirlwind, from the side on which Katenka was sitting. I just didn’t know what was better: to ride silently or to shout? But the obnoxious horse, having caught up with the harness, despite all my efforts, stopped so unexpectedly that I jumped from the saddle onto my neck and almost flew.
Chapter X
What kind of man was my father?
He was a man of the last century and had, common to the youth of that century, the elusive character of chivalry, enterprise, self-confidence, courtesy and revelry. He looked contemptuously at the people of the present century, and this look came as much from innate pride as from secret annoyance that in our century he could not have the same influence or the successes that he had in his own. His two main passions in life were cards and women; he won several millions during his life and had connections with countless women of all classes.
Large, stately stature, a strange gait with small steps, a habit of twitching his shoulders, small, always smiling eyes, a large aquiline nose, irregular lips that folded somehow awkwardly, but pleasantly, a flaw in pronunciation - a lisp, and a large bald spot all over his head. : this is my father’s appearance, since I remember him - an appearance with which he knew how not only to be known and to be a man Bonnes fortunes, but to please everyone without exception - people of all classes and conditions, especially those whom I wanted to please.
He knew how to gain the upper hand in relationships with everyone. Having never been human very big light, he always hung out with people of this circle, and in such a way that he was respected. He knew that extreme measure of pride and arrogance, which, without offending others, elevated him in the opinion of the world. He was original, but not always, and used originality as a means of replacing secularism or wealth in other cases. Nothing in the world could arouse in him a feeling of surprise: no matter how brilliant his position was, it seemed that he was born for it. He was so good at hiding from others and removing from himself the dark side of life, known to everyone, filled with petty annoyances and sorrows, that one could not help but envy him. He was an expert in all things that bring comfort and pleasure, and knew how to use them. His strong point was the brilliant connections that he had partly through my mother’s family, partly through his comrades from his youth, with whom he was angry in his soul because they had gone far in rank, while he forever remained a retired lieutenant of the guard. He, like all former military men, did not know how to dress fashionably; but he dressed originally and elegantly. Always a very wide and light dress, beautiful underwear, large turned-up cuffs and collars... However, everything went towards his large height, strong build, bald head and calm, self-confident movements. He was sensitive and even tearful. Often, while reading aloud, when he reached a pathetic place, his voice began to tremble, tears appeared, and he left the book with vexation. He loved music, sang, accompanying himself on the piano, romances of his friend A..., gypsy songs and some motifs from operas; but he did not like learned music and, not paying attention to the general opinion, openly said that Beethoven’s sonatas made him sleepy and bored and that he knew nothing better than “Don’t wake me up, young man,” as Semyonova sang it, and “ Not alone,” as the gypsy Tanyusha sang. His nature was one of those who need an audience for a good deed. And only he considered good what the public called good. God knows if he had any moral convictions? His life was so full of hobbies of all kinds that he had no time to compose them for himself, and he was so happy in life that he did not see the need for it.
In old age, he developed a constant view of things and unchanging rules, but only on a practical basis: he considered those actions and lifestyles that brought him happiness or pleasure to be good and found that everyone should always do so. He spoke very captivatingly, and this ability, it seems to me, increased the flexibility of his rules: he was able to tell the same act as the cutest prank and as base meanness.
Chapter XI
Classes in the office and living room
It was already getting dark when we arrived home. Maman sat down at the piano, and we children brought papers, pencils, paints and sat down to draw near the round table. I only had blue paint; but, despite this, I decided to draw a hunt. Having very vividly depicted a blue boy riding a blue horse and blue dogs, I didn’t know for sure whether it was possible to draw a blue hare, and I ran to my dad’s office to consult about it. Dad was reading something and to my question: “Are there blue hares?”, without raising his head, he answered: “There are, my friend, there are.” Returning to the round table, I depicted a blue hare, then found it necessary to remake a bush from the blue hare. I didn't like the bush either; I made a tree out of it, a stack out of the tree, a cloud out of the stack, and finally I stained all the paper with blue paint so much that out of frustration I tore it up and went to doze on Voltaire’s chair.
Maman played the second concert of Field, her teacher. I was dozing, and some light, bright and transparent memories arose in my imagination. She started playing Beethoven's pathetic sonata, and I remembered something sad, heavy and gloomy. Maman often played these two pieces; Therefore, I remember very well the feeling they aroused in me. The feeling was like a memory; but memory of what? It seemed like you were remembering something that never happened.
Opposite me was the door to the office, and I saw Yakov and some other people in caftans and beards enter there. The door immediately closed behind them. “Well, classes have started!” – I thought. It seemed to me that nothing in the world could be more important than those things that were done in the office; This thought was further confirmed by the fact that everyone usually approached the office doors whispering and on tiptoe; From there I could hear Dad’s loud voice and the smell of a cigar, which always, I don’t know why, attracted me very much. Woke up, I was suddenly struck by the very familiar creaking of boots in the waiter's room. Karl Ivanovich, on tiptoe, but with a gloomy and determined face, with some notes in his hand, walked up to the door and knocked lightly. They let him in, and the door slammed again.
“No matter how some misfortune happens,” I thought, “Karl Ivanovich will be angry: he is ready for anything...”
I dozed off again.
However, no misfortune happened; An hour later I was awakened by the same creaking of boots. Karl Ivanovich, wiping away the tears that I noticed on his cheeks with a handkerchief, left the door and, muttering something under his breath, went upstairs. Dad followed him out and entered the living room.
– Do you know what I’ve decided now? - he said in a cheerful voice, placing his hand on maman’s shoulder.
- What, my friend?
– I’m taking Karl Ivanovich with the children. There is room in the chaise. They are used to him, and he seems to be attached to them; and seven hundred rubles a year doesn’t count for anything, et puis au fond c’est un très bon diable.
I couldn’t understand why dad was scolding Karl Ivanovich.
“I’m very happy,” said maman, “for the children, for him: he’s a nice old man.”
“If you could have seen how touched he was when I told him to leave these five hundred rubles as a gift... but what’s funniest of all is the bill he brought me.” “It’s worth seeing,” he added with a smile, handing her a note written in Karl Ivanovich’s hand, “charming!”
“For children, two fishing rods – 70 kopecks.
Colored paper, gold border, cloister and block for the box, in gifts - 6 rubles. 55 k.
Book and bow, gift for children – 8 rubles. 16 k.
Nikolay's trousers - 4 rubles.
Promised by Pyotr Aleksantrovich from Moscow in 18.. a gold watch worth 140 rubles.
The total that Karl Mauer should receive, in addition to his salary, is 159 rubles 79 kopecks.”
Having read this note, in which Karl Ivanovich demands that he be paid all the money he spent on gifts, and even paid for the promised gift, everyone will think that Karl Ivanovich is nothing more than an insensitive and selfish self-lover - and everyone will be mistaken.
Entering the office with notes in hand and a prepared speech in his head, he intended to eloquently explain to dad all the injustices he had suffered in our house; but when he began to speak in the same touching voice and with the same sensitive intonations with which he usually dictated to us, his eloquence had the strongest effect on himself; so that, having reached the point where he said: “no matter how sad it will be for me to part with the children,” he completely lost his voice, his voice trembled, and he was forced to take a checkered handkerchief from his pocket.
“Yes, Pyotr Alexandrovich,” he said through tears (this place was not at all in the prepared speech), “I’m so used to children that I don’t know what I’ll do without them.” “I’d rather serve you without a salary,” he added, wiping away tears with one hand and handing the bill with the other.
That Karl Ivanovich spoke sincerely at that moment, I can say affirmatively, because I know his kind heart; but how the account was consistent with his words remains a mystery to me.
“If you are sad, then I would be even sadder to part with you,” said dad, patting him on the shoulder, “I’ve changed my mind now.”
Shortly before dinner Grisha entered the room. From the very moment he entered our house, he did not stop sighing and crying, which, according to those who believed in his ability to predict, foreshadowed some kind of misfortune for our home. He began to say goodbye and said that tomorrow morning he would move on. I winked at Volodya and walked out the door.
- If you want to see Grisha’s chains, then let’s go to the men’s top now - Grisha sleeps in the second room - you can sit perfectly in the closet, and we’ll see everything.
- Great! Wait here: I'll call the girls.
The girls ran out and we went upstairs. Having decided, not without some argument, who should enter the dark closet first, we sat down and began to wait.
Chapter XII
Grisha
We were all scared in the dark; we huddled together and said nothing. Almost after us, Grisha entered with quiet steps. In one hand he held his staff, in the other a tallow candle in a copper candlestick. We didn't catch our breath.
- Lord Jesus Christ! Mother of the Most Holy Theotokos! To the father and the son and the holy spirit... - inhaling the air, he repeated with various intonations and abbreviations, characteristic only of those who often repeat these words.
Prayerfully placing his staff in the corner and examining the bed, he began to undress. Unbelting his old black sash, he slowly took off his tattered nankeen coat, carefully folded it and hung it on the back of the chair. His face no longer expressed, as usual, haste and stupidity; on the contrary, he was calm, thoughtful and even dignified. His movements were slow and deliberate.
Remaining in only his underwear, he quietly sank down onto the bed, christened it on all sides and, as one could see, with effort—because he winced—adjusted the chains under his shirt. After sitting for a while and carefully examining the linen that was torn in some places, he stood up, prayerfully raised the candle to the level with the ark, in which there were several images, crossed himself on them and turned the candle over with the fire facing downwards. It went out with a bang.
The almost full moon hit the windows facing the forest. The long white figure of the holy fool was illuminated on one side by the pale, silvery rays of the month, on the other by a black shadow; together with the shadows from the frames, it fell on the floor, walls and reached the ceiling. In the yard, the guard was knocking on a cast-iron board.
Folding his huge hands on his chest, lowering his head and constantly sighing heavily, Grisha stood silently in front of the icons, then with difficulty he knelt down and began to pray.
At first he quietly said well-known prayers, emphasizing only some words, then he repeated them, but louder and with greater animation. He began to speak his words, trying with noticeable effort to express himself in Slavic. His words were awkward, but touching. He prayed for all his benefactors (as he called those who received him), including his mother, for us, he prayed for himself, asking God to forgive him his grave sins, repeating: “God, forgive my enemies!” - he stood up, groaning, and, repeating the same words over and over again, fell to the ground and rose again, despite the weight of the chains, which made a dry, sharp sound as they hit the ground.
Volodya pinched my leg very painfully; but I didn’t even look back: I just rubbed that spot with my hand and continued to follow all Grisha’s movements and words with a feeling of childish surprise, pity and awe.
Instead of the joy and laughter that I expected when entering the closet, I felt trembling and heart sinking.
For a long time Grisha remained in this position of religious delight and improvised prayers. Then he repeated several times in a row: “Lord have mercy,” but each time with new strength and expression; then he said: “Forgive me, Lord, teach me what to do... teach me what to do, Lord!” - with an expression as if he was expecting an immediate answer to his words; then only pitiful sobs could be heard... He rose to his knees, folded his hands on his chest and fell silent.
I slowly stuck my head out of the door and didn’t catch my breath. Grisha did not move; heavy sighs escaped from his chest; a tear stopped in the cloudy pupil of his crooked eye, illuminated by the moon.
- Thy will be done! - he suddenly cried out with an inimitable expression, fell with his forehead on the ground and sobbed like a child.
Much water has passed under the bridge since then, many memories of the past have lost meaning for me and become vague dreams, even the wanderer Grisha has long since completed his last wandering; but the impression it made on me and the feeling it aroused will never die in my memory.
O great Christian Grisha! Your faith was so strong that you felt the closeness of God, your love is so great that the words flowed out of your mouth by themselves - you did not believe them with your mind... And what high praise did you bring to his greatness when, unable to find words, you collapsed in tears to the ground!..
The feeling of tenderness with which I listened to Grisha could not last long, firstly, because my curiosity was saturated, and secondly, because I had served my legs sitting in one place, and I wanted to join the general whispering and fussing that was heard behind me in the dark closet. Someone took my hand and said in a whisper: “Whose hand is this?” The closet was completely dark; but by one touch and a voice that whispered right in my ear, I immediately recognized Katenka.
Completely unconsciously, I grabbed her hand in short sleeves by the elbow and pressed my lips to it. Katenka was probably surprised by this act and pulled her hand back: with this movement she pushed the broken chair that stood in the closet. Grisha raised his head, quietly looked around and, reading prayers, began to cross all the corners. We ran out of the closet with noise and whispers.
Chapter XIII
Natalya Savishna
In the middle of the last century, a barefoot, but cheerful, fat and red-cheeked girl ran around the courtyards of the village of Khabarovka in a shabby dress. Natasha. According to the merits and request of her father, clarinetist Savva, my grandfather took her to the top- be among the grandmother's female servants. Housemaid Natasha In this position she was distinguished by her meekness of disposition and zeal. When mother was born and a nanny was needed, this responsibility was assigned to Natasha. And in this new field, she earned praise and rewards for her activities, loyalty and affection for the young lady. But the powdered head and buckled stockings of the lively young waiter Foka, who had frequent relations with Natalya in his work, captivated her rough but loving heart. She even decided to go to her grandfather to ask permission to marry Foku. Grandfather mistook her wish for ingratitude, became angry and exiled poor Natalya for punishment to a barnyard in a steppe village. After six months, however, since no one could replace Natalia, she was returned to the court and to her former position. Returning from exile in a disheveled state, she appeared to her grandfather, fell at his feet and asked him to return his mercy, affection and forget the nonsense that had come over her and which, she swore, would never return. And indeed, she kept her word.
From then on, Natasha became Natalya Savishna and put on a cap; She transferred the entire supply of love that was stored in her to her young lady.
When the governess replaced her at her mother’s side, she received the keys to the pantry, and the linen and all the provisions were handed over to her. She performed these new duties with the same zeal and love. She lived entirely in the lordly goods, saw waste, damage, theft in everything and tried to counteract it by all means.
When maman got married, wanting to somehow thank Natalya Savishna for her twenty years of work and affection, she called her to her place and, expressing all her gratitude and love for her in the most flattering words, handed her a sheet of stamped paper on which her free will was written. Natalya Savishna, and said that, regardless of whether she continues to serve in our house or not, she will always receive an annual pension of three hundred rubles. Natalya Savishna listened to all this in silence, then, picking up the document, looked at it angrily, muttered something through her teeth and ran out of the room, slamming the door. Not understanding the reason for such a strange act, maman a little later entered Natalya Savishna’s room. She sat with tear-stained eyes on the chest, fingering a handkerchief, and staring intently at the shreds of her torn free clothes lying on the floor in front of her.
– What’s wrong with you, my dear Natalya Savishna? - asked maman, taking her hand.
“It’s okay, mother,” she answered, “I must be somehow disgusting to you that you are driving me out of the yard... Well, I’ll go.”
She snatched her hand away and, barely holding back tears, wanted to leave the room. Maman held her, hugged her, and they both burst into tears.
Ever since I can remember, I remember Natalya Savishna, her love and affection; but now I only know how to appreciate them - at the same time it never occurred to me what a rare, wonderful creature this old woman was. She not only never spoke, but also did not think, it seems, about herself: her whole life was love and self-sacrifice. I was so used to her selfless, tender love for us that I never imagined that it could be otherwise, I was not at all grateful to her and never asked myself the questions: is she happy? Are you satisfied?
Sometimes, under the pretext of a necessary need, you would run from class to her room, sit down and begin to dream out loud, not at all embarrassed by her presence. She was always busy with something: either knitting a stocking, or rummaging through the chests that filled her room, or writing down the laundry and, listening to all the nonsense that I said, “how, when I become a general, I will marry a wonderful beauty, I’ll buy myself a red horse, build a glass house and send Karl Ivanovich’s relatives out of Saxony,” etc., she said: “Yes, my father, yes.” Usually, when I got up and was getting ready to leave, she would open a blue chest, on the inside of which, as I remember now, there were pasted a painted image of some hussar, a picture from a lipstick jar, and a drawing of Volodya, she would take smoke out of this chest, light it, and waving, she used to say:
- This, father, is still Ochakovsky smoking. When your late grandfather - the kingdom of heaven - went under the Turk, they brought more from there. “That’s the last piece left,” she added with a sigh.
The chests that filled her room contained absolutely everything. Whatever was needed, they usually said: “You need to ask Natalya Savishna,” and indeed, after rummaging around a little, she found the required item and said: “It’s good that I hid it.” In these chests there were thousands of items that no one in the house except her knew or cared about.
One time I got angry with her. That's how it was. At dinner, while pouring myself some kvass, I dropped the decanter and spilled it on the tablecloth.
“Call Natalya Savishna so she can be happy about her pet,” said maman.
Natalya Savishna came in and, seeing the puddle I had made, shook her head; then maman said something in her ear, and she, threatening me, went out.
After lunch, I was in the most cheerful mood, jumping, and went into the hall, when suddenly Natalya Savishna jumped out from behind the door with a tablecloth in her hand, caught me and, despite desperate resistance on my part, began to rub my wet face, saying: “Don’t dirty the tablecloths, don’t dirty the tablecloths!” This offended me so much that I burst into tears of anger.
"How! - I said to myself, walking around the hall and choking on tears. – Natalya Savishna, just Natalia, speaks you to me and also hits me in the face with a wet tablecloth, like a yard boy. No, this is terrible!
When Natalya Savishna saw that I was drooling, she immediately ran away, and I, continuing to walk, thought about how to repay the impudent Natalya for the insult she had inflicted on me.
A few minutes later Natalya Savishna returned, timidly approached me and began to exhort:
- Come on, my father, don’t cry... forgive me, you fool... I’m to blame... you’ll forgive me, my darling... here you go.
She took out from under her scarf a cornet made of red paper, in which there were two caramels and one wineberry, and with a trembling hand she handed it to me. I didn’t have the strength to look the kind old lady in the face; I turned away and accepted the gift, and tears flowed even more abundantly, but no longer from anger, but from love and shame.
He was a man of the last century and had, common to the youth of that century, the elusive character of chivalry, enterprise, self-confidence, courtesy and revelry. He looked at the people of the present century with contempt, and his gaze came as much from innate pride as from secret annoyance that in our century he could not have either the influence or the success that he had in his own. His two main passions in life were cards and women; he won several millions during his life and had connections with countless women of all classes. Large, stately stature, a strange gait with small steps, a habit of twitching his shoulders, small, always smiling eyes, a large aquiline nose, irregular lips that folded somehow awkwardly, but pleasantly, a flaw in pronunciation - a lisp, and a large bald spot all over his head. : this is my father’s appearance, since I remember him - an appearance with which he knew how not only to be known and to be a man but bonnes fortunes, but to please everyone without exception - people of all classes and conditions, especially those whom he wanted to please. He knew how to gain the upper hand in relationships with everyone. Having never been human very big light he always hung out with people of this circle, and in such a way that he was respected. He knew that extreme measure of pride and arrogance, which, without offending others, elevated him in the opinion of the world. He was original, but not always, and used originality as a means of replacing secularism or wealth in other cases. Nothing in the world could arouse in him a feeling of surprise: no matter what brilliant position he was in, it seemed that he was born for it. He was so good at hiding from others and removing from himself the dark side of life, known to everyone, filled with petty annoyances and sorrows, that one could not help but envy him. He was an expert in all things that bring comfort and pleasure, and knew how to use them. His strong point was the brilliant connections that he had partly through my mother’s family, partly through his comrades from his youth, with whom he was angry in his soul because they had gone far in rank, while he forever remained a retired lieutenant of the guard. He, like all former military men, did not know how to dress fashionably; but he dressed originally and elegantly. Always a very wide and light dress, beautiful underwear, large turned-up cuffs and collars... However, everything went towards his great height, strong build, bald head and calm, self-confident movements. He was sensitive and even tearful. Often, while reading aloud, when he reached a pathetic place, his voice began to tremble, tears appeared, and he left the book with vexation. He loved music, sang, accompanying himself on the piano, the romances of his friend A... gypsy songs and some motifs from operas; but he did not like learned music and, not paying attention to the general opinion, openly said that Beethoven’s sonatas made him sleepy and bored and that he knew nothing better than “Don’t wake me up, young man,” as Semyonova sang it, and “ Not alone,” as the gypsy Tanyusha sang. His nature was one of those who need an audience for a good deed. And only he considered good what the public called good. God knows if he had any moral convictions? His life was so full of hobbies of all kinds that he had no time to compose them for himself, and he was so happy in life that he did not see the need for it. In old age, he developed a constant view of things and unchanging rules, but only on a practical basis: he considered those actions and lifestyles that brought him happiness or pleasure to be good and found that everyone should always do so. He spoke very captivatingly, and this ability, it seems to me, increased the flexibility of his rules: he was able to tell the same act as the cutest prank and as base meanness.(summary). The author wrote this work in 1852. This is the first story of three available about the life of Nikolai Irtenev. The hero talks in the first person about the early period of his life, nostalgically regretting the irrevocable freshness of childhood feelings, carelessness, love and faith.
Summary of “Childhood” (chapters 1-6)
In the morning, a few days after his tenth birthday, Irtenev Nikolenka was awakened by the teacher (or rather, by the clap of his fly swatter). The boy was offended that it was he, small and defenseless, who was woken up, and not his older brother Volodya. Out of anger and self-pity, he burst into tears, explaining the tears as a bad dream. But after the teacher, tickling and laughing good-naturedly, began to lift Nikolenka out of bed, Karl Ivanovich was forgiven and called “darling.”
Every morning, the mentor went down to the living room with the boys to wish their mother good morning.
Resurrecting her mother in her imagination, Nikolenka was never able to recreate her complete appearance. Most often I remembered a birthmark on my neck, an embroidered collar, the look of always kind brown eyes and dry, gentle hands. She inquired in German from Karl Ivanovich about how the children slept and whether Nikolenka was crying.
They often found their father doing calculations. He gave financial orders to the serf clerk Yakov. He was stingy, like any good and devoted servant, but he had rather strange ideas about the master’s benefits, caring about increasing his income at the expense of his mistress (namely, her Khabarovsk estate).
After greeting his sons, dad said that since they were already grown up, it was time to get serious about their studies. To do this, he takes them to Moscow to their grandmother’s house, while maman and her sisters will remain in Petrovsky. The brothers were amazed by this news. Nikolenka felt sorry for her mother and the old teacher, who would probably be given up their home. Feeling emotional, he began to cry.
Summary of “Childhood” (chapters 7-12)
Dad took the boys hunting with him, and the girls also asked to come. Mama went with them in the carriage. Afterwards there was tea, fruit, ice cream and, of course, children's
Later, already at home, everyone went about their business. Mother played the piano, and the serfs came to father with a report. Volodya, Nikolenka and the girls decided to take a closer look at the chains of the holy fool whom mother had sheltered.
For the rest of his life, Nikolenka remembered the sincere, powerful prayer of a true Christian - the holy fool Grisha, to which they became involuntary witnesses. He prayed with love for everyone who gave him shelter. When there were not enough words, he fell to the ground in sincere, flowing tears.
Summary of “Childhood” (Chapter 13)
Red-cheeked, cheerful and fat Natasha was taken into the house as a young girl as a female servant for her grandmother. In her position as a maid, Natalya was distinguished by her zeal and meekness. Afterwards, mother was born, and the maid became a nanny, and here she also deserved awards and praise for the affection and loyalty she gave to the young lady (Natalia’s family did not work out).
After getting married, maman tried to thank Natalya Savishna, as she was now called, for her service. She was granted a free and lifelong pension of three hundred rubles. But her faithful Nasha tore up the document and remained to serve as a housekeeper, overseeing the household and giving love and care to the now third generation of her masters.
Summary of “Childhood” (chapters 14-28)
The boys lived in Moscow, in their grandmother’s house, for more than six months. The children studied, danced at balls, met their Moscow relatives: Princess Kornakova, Prince Ivan Ivanovich, the Ivin brothers, and even managed to fall in love with Sonechka Valakhina.
Having received an alarming letter from his wife, the father again took them to Petrovskoye. Unfortunately, the children found their mother already unconscious. Nikolenka took the death and funeral of his maman very hard. His suffering was slightly alleviated by the pious conversations and sincere tears of Natalya Savishna, who selflessly loved the deceased.
The grandmother learned about the death of her daughter only after the Irtenvys returned to Moscow. Her sadness and grief were touching and strong, but for some reason Nikolenka sympathized and empathized more with Natalya Savishna, because he was convinced that no one so purely and sincerely regretted his mother as this loving and devoted creature.
With the death of maman, Nikolenka’s childhood ended. The time of adolescence has begun.