In a beautiful and furious world
At the Tolubeevsky depot, Alexander Vasilyevich Maltsev was considered the best locomotive driver.
He was about thirty years old, but he already had the qualifications of a first-class driver and had been driving fast trains for a long time. When the first powerful passenger locomotive of the IS series arrived at our depot, Maltsev was assigned to work on this machine, which was quite reasonable and correct. An elderly man from the depot mechanics named Fyodor Petrovich Drabanov worked as an assistant for Maltsev, but he soon passed the driver’s exam and went to work on another machine, and instead of Drabanov, I was assigned to work in Maltsev’s brigade as an assistant; Before that, I also worked as a mechanic’s assistant, but only on an old, low-power machine.
I was pleased with my assignment. The IS machine, the only one on our traction site at that time, made me feel inspired by its very appearance; I could look at her for a long time, and a special, touched joy awakened in me - as beautiful as in childhood when reading Pushkin’s poems for the first time. In addition, I wanted to work in the crew of a first-class mechanic in order to learn from him the art of driving heavy high-speed trains.
Alexander Vasilyevich accepted my appointment to his brigade calmly and indifferently; he apparently did not care who his assistants would be.
Before the trip, as usual, I checked all the components of the car, tested all its servicing and auxiliary mechanisms and calmed down, considering the car ready for the trip. Alexander Vasilyevich saw my work, he followed it, but after me, he again checked the condition of the car with his own hands, as if he did not trust me.
This was repeated later, and I was already accustomed to the fact that Alexander Vasilyevich constantly interfered with my duties, although he was silently upset. But usually, as soon as we were on the move, I forgot about my disappointment. Distracting my attention from the instruments monitoring the condition of the running locomotive, from monitoring the operation of the left car and the path ahead, I glanced at Maltsev. He led the cast with the courageous confidence of a great master, with the concentration of an inspired artist who has absorbed the entire outer world into his inner experience and therefore dominates it. Alexander Vasilyevich’s eyes looked ahead abstractly, as if empty, but I knew that he saw with them the whole road ahead and all of nature rushing towards us - even a sparrow, swept from the ballast slope by the wind of a car piercing into space, even this sparrow attracted Maltsev’s gaze, and he turned his head for a moment after the sparrow: what will happen to him after us, where did he fly?
It was our fault that we were never late; on the contrary, we were often delayed at intermediate stations, which we had to proceed on the move, because we were running with time catching up and, through delays, we were put back on schedule.
We usually worked in silence; Only occasionally did Alexander Vasilyevich, without turning in my direction, tap the key on the boiler, wanting me to draw my attention to some disorder in the operating mode of the machine, or preparing me for a sharp change in this mode, so that I would be vigilant. I always understood the silent instructions of my senior comrade and worked with full diligence, but the mechanic still treated me, as well as the lubricator-stoker, aloof and constantly checked the grease nipples in the parking lots, the tightness of the bolts in the drawbar units, tested the axle boxes on driving axles, etc. If I had just inspected and lubricated any working rubbing part, then Maltsev, after me, inspected and lubricated it again, as if not considering my work valid.
“I, Alexander Vasilyevich, have already checked this crosshead,” I told him one day when he began checking this part after me.
“But I want it myself,” Maltsev answered smiling, and in his smile there was sadness that struck me.
Later I understood the meaning of his sadness and the reason for his constant indifference towards us. He felt superior to us because he understood the car more accurately than we did, and he did not believe that I or anyone else could learn the secret of his talent, the secret of seeing both a passing sparrow and a signal ahead, at the same moment sensing the path, the weight of the composition and the force of the machine. Maltsev understood, of course, that in diligence, in diligence, we could even overcome him, but he could not imagine that we loved the locomotive more than him and drove trains better than him - he thought it was impossible to do better. And that’s why Maltsev was sad with us; he missed his talent as if he were lonely, not knowing how to express it to us so that we would understand.
And we, however, could not understand his skills. I once asked to be allowed to conduct the composition myself; Alexander Vasilyevich allowed me to drive about forty kilometers and sat in the assistant’s place. I drove the train and after twenty kilometers I was already four minutes late, and I covered the exits from long climbs at a speed of no more than thirty kilometers per hour. Maltsev drove the car after me; he took the climbs at a speed of fifty kilometers, and on the curves his car did not throw up like mine, and he soon made up for the time I had lost.
Jan 17, 2017In a beautiful and furious world Andrey Platonov
(No ratings yet)
Title: In a beautiful and furious world
About the book “In a Beautiful and Furious World” Andrei Platonov
Andrei Platonov, known primarily for his story “The Pit” and the novel “Chevengur,” is also the author of many wonderful stories.
“In a Beautiful and Furious World” is a beautiful lyrical and philosophical work about the “little man” and his place in a complex, confusing world. This is a story about human destiny, talent, and calling.
The main character is a talented driver Maltsev. He is so immersed in his work that he does not notice anyone around him. Maybe that's why he's so lonely.
Andrei Platonov portrayed in his work a man who is completely absorbed in the only activity that brings him pleasure. For Maltsev, the world around him only makes sense when it rushes past him. He is literally fascinated by his profession, and his entire existence comes down only to it. But some things and events are beyond a person’s control, so unforeseen circumstances can interfere with the usual course of life at any moment. And then you can easily lose what you value so much. And no matter how strong a person is, he has no power over the elements.
“In a Beautiful and Furious World” is a story about how one misfortune can be part of another. And also that a person is able to overcome any obstacles.
Andrei Platonov makes his hero a winner. The ending of the story is completely unpredictable. But is this victory worth the effort? In order to give an independent answer, you need to read both the story and the book.
“In a Beautiful and Furious World” is a wonderful work, filled with genuine faith in a person capable of fighting cruel fate and unfair circumstances. The author writes with warmth about ordinary people, about their everyday problems and difficulties in relationships with eternity.
Andrey Platonov is the author of many excellent stories. Without exaggeration, all of them are wonderful and full of light sadness. We can recommend reading them to those who, despite everything, continue to believe in man and his unique mission on earth.
The author's works are a completely unique phenomenon in Russian literature. His bright, unique characters with a mindset that is imprinted with both the surrounding Soviet reality and the irrepressible imagination of the author remain forever in memory. With his creativity, Andrei Platonov managed to expand many of the usual frameworks into which Russian literature had been squeezed before him. He was one of the most talented and mysterious writers of his era. He perfectly felt the tragedy of every person, torn off and thrown to the margins of existence.
On our website about books, you can download the site for free without registration or read online the book “In a Beautiful and Furious World” by Andrei Platonov in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.
Download the book “In a Beautiful and Furious World” for free by Andrey Platonov
(Fragment)
In format fb2: Download
In format rtf: Download
In format epub: Download
In format txt:
At the Tolubeevsky depot, Alexander Vasilyevich Maltsev was considered the best locomotive driver.
He was about thirty years old, but he already had the qualifications of a first-class driver and had been driving fast trains for a long time. When the first powerful passenger locomotive of the IS series arrived at our depot, Maltsev was assigned to work on this machine, which was quite reasonable and correct. An elderly man from the depot mechanics named Fyodor Petrovich Drabanov worked as an assistant for Maltsev, but he soon passed the driver exam and went to work on another machine, and I, instead of Drabanov, was assigned to work in Maltsev’s brigade as an assistant; Before that, I also worked as a mechanic’s assistant, but only on an old, low-power machine.
I was pleased with my assignment. The IS machine, the only one on our traction site at that time, evoked a feeling of inspiration in me by its very appearance; I could look at her for a long time, and a special, touched joy awoke in me - as beautiful as in childhood when reading Pushkin’s poems for the first time. In addition, I wanted to work in the crew of a first-class mechanic in order to learn from him the art of driving heavy high-speed trains.
Alexander Vasilyevich accepted my appointment to his brigade calmly and indifferently; he apparently did not care who his assistants would be.
Before the trip, as usual, I checked all the components of the car, tested all its servicing and auxiliary mechanisms and calmed down, considering the car ready for the trip. Alexander Vasilyevich saw my work, he followed it, but after me, he again checked the condition of the car with his own hands, as if he did not trust me.
This was repeated later, and I was already accustomed to the fact that Alexander Vasilyevich constantly interfered with my duties, although he was silently upset. But usually, as soon as we were on the move, I forgot about my disappointment. Taking your attention away from the devices monitoring your condition
As the locomotive ran, from observing the work of the left engine and the path ahead, I glanced at Maltsev. He led the cast with the courageous confidence of a great master, with the concentration of an inspired artist who has absorbed the entire outer world into his inner experience and therefore dominates it. Alexander Vasilyevich’s eyes looked ahead abstractly, as if empty, but I knew that he saw with them the whole road ahead and all of nature rushing towards us - even a sparrow, swept from the ballast slope by the wind of a car piercing into space, even this sparrow attracted Maltsev’s gaze, and he turned his head for a moment after the sparrow: what would become of it after us, where it flew.
It was our fault that we were never late; on the contrary, we were often delayed at intermediate stations, which we had to proceed on the move, because we were running with time catching up and, through delays, we were put back on schedule.
We usually worked in silence; Only occasionally did Alexander Vasilyevich, without turning in my direction, tap the key on the boiler, wanting me to draw my attention to some disorder in the operating mode of the machine, or preparing me for a sharp change in this mode, so that I would be vigilant. I always understood the silent instructions of my senior comrade and worked with full diligence, but the mechanic still treated me, as well as the lubricator-stoker, aloof and constantly checked the grease fittings in the parking lots, the tightness of the bolts in the drawbar units, tested the axle boxes on the drive axes and so on. If I had just inspected and lubricated any working rubbing part, then Maltsev, after me, inspected and lubricated it again, as if not considering my work valid.
“I, Alexander Vasilyevich, have already checked this crosshead,” I told him one day when he began checking this part after me.
“But I want it myself,” Maltsev answered smiling, and in his smile there was sadness that struck me.
Later I understood the meaning of his sadness and the reason for his constant indifference towards us. He felt superior to us because he understood the car more accurately than we did, and he did not believe that I or anyone else could learn the secret of his talent, the secret of seeing both a passing sparrow and a signal ahead, at the same moment sensing the path, the weight of the composition and the force of the machine. Maltsev understood, of course, that in diligence, in diligence, we could even overcome him, but he could not imagine that we loved the locomotive more than him and drove trains better than him - he thought it was impossible to do better. And that’s why Maltsev was sad with us; he missed his talent as if he were lonely, not knowing how to express it to us so that we would understand.
And we, however, could not understand his skills. I once asked to be allowed to conduct the composition myself; Alexander Vasilyevich allowed me to drive about forty kilometers and sat in the assistant’s place. I drove the train and after twenty kilometers I was already four minutes late, and I covered the exits from long climbs at a speed of no more than thirty kilometers per hour. Maltsev drove the car after me; he took the climbs at a speed of fifty kilometers, and on the curves his car did not throw up like mine, and he soon made up for the time I had lost.
I worked as Maltsev’s assistant for about a year, from August to July, and on July 5, Maltsev made his last trip as a courier train driver...
We took a train of eighty passenger axles, which was four hours late on its way to us. The dispatcher went to the locomotive and specifically asked Alexander Vasilyevich to reduce the train's delay as much as possible, to reduce this delay to at least three hours, otherwise it would be difficult for him to issue an empty train onto the neighboring road. Maltsev promised to catch up with time, and we moved forward.
It was eight o'clock in the afternoon, but the summer day still lasted, and the sun shone with the solemn strength of the morning. Alexander Vasilyevich demanded that I keep the steam pressure in the boiler only half an atmosphere below the limit all the time.
Half an hour later we emerged into the steppe, onto a calm, soft profile. Maltsev brought the speed up to ninety kilometers and did not go lower; on the contrary, on horizontals and small slopes he brought the speed up to one hundred kilometers. On climbs, I forced the firebox to its maximum capacity and forced the fireman to manually load the scoop, to help the stoker machine, because my steam was running low.
Maltsev drove the car forward, moving the regulator to the entire arc and putting the reverse (1) to full cutoff. We were now walking towards a powerful cloud that appeared over the horizon. From our side, the cloud was illuminated by the sun, and from inside it was torn by fierce, irritated lightning, and we saw how swords of lightning pierced vertically into the silent distant land, and we rushed madly towards that distant land, as if rushing to its defense. Alexander Vasilyevich, apparently, was captivated by this spectacle: he leaned far out the window, looking ahead, and his eyes, accustomed to smoke, fire and space, now sparkled with inspiration. He understood that the work and power of our machine could be compared with the work of a thunderstorm, and perhaps he was proud of this thought.
Soon we noticed a dust whirlwind rushing across the steppe towards us. This means that the storm was bearing a thundercloud on our foreheads. The light darkened around us; the dry earth and steppe sand whistled and scraped against the iron body of the locomotive; there was no visibility, and I started the turbo dynamo for illumination and turned on the headlight in front of the locomotive. It was now difficult for us to breathe from the hot dusty whirlwind that was billowing into the cabin and redoubled in its strength by the oncoming movement of the machine, from the flue gases and the early darkness that surrounded us. The locomotive howled its way forward into the vague, stuffy darkness - into the slit of light created by the frontal searchlight. The speed dropped to sixty kilometers; we worked and looked forward, as if in a dream.
Suddenly a large drop hit the windshield - and immediately dried up, consumed by the hot wind. Then an instant blue light flashed at my eyelashes and penetrated me to my shuddering heart; I grabbed the injector valve (2), but the pain in my heart had already left me, and I immediately looked in the direction of Maltsev - he was looking forward and driving the car without changing his face.
What was it? - I asked the fireman.
Lightning, he said. “I wanted to hit us, but I missed a little.”
Maltsev heard our words.
What lightning? - he asked loudly.
“Now it was,” said the fireman.
“I didn’t see,” Maltsev said and turned his face outward again.
Did not see! - the fireman was surprised. “I thought the boiler exploded when the light came on, but he didn’t see it.”
I also doubted that it was lightning.
Where's the thunder? - I asked.
We passed the thunder,” explained the fireman. - Thunder always strikes afterwards. By the time it hit, by the time it shook the air, by the time it went back and forth, we had already flown past it. Passengers may have heard - they are behind.
It got completely dark and a calm night came. We felt the smell of damp earth, the fragrance of herbs and grains, saturated with rain and thunderstorms, and rushed forward, catching up with time.
I noticed that Maltsev’s driving became worse - we were thrown around on curves, the speed reached more than a hundred kilometers, then dropped to forty. I decided that Alexander Vasilyevich was probably very tired, and therefore did not say anything to him, although it was very difficult for me to keep the furnace and boiler operating in the best mode with such behavior from the mechanic. However, in half an hour we must stop to get water, and there, at the stop, Alexander Vasilyevich will eat and rest a little. We have already caught up for forty minutes, and we will have at least an hour to catch up before the end of our traction section.
Still, I became concerned about Maltsev’s fatigue and began to look carefully ahead - at the path and at the signals. On my side, above the left car, an electric lamp was burning, illuminating the waving drawbar mechanism. I clearly saw the tense, confident work of the left machine, but then the lamp above it went out and began to burn poorly, like one candle. I turned back into the cabin. There, too, all the lamps were now burning at a quarter incandescence, barely illuminating the instruments. It’s strange that Alexander Vasilyevich did not knock on me with the key at that moment to point out such a disorder. It was clear that the turbodynamo did not give the calculated speed and the voltage dropped. I began to regulate the turbodynamo through the steam line and fiddled with this device for a long time, but the voltage did not rise.
At this time, a hazy cloud of red light passed across the instrument dials and the ceiling of the cabin. I looked outside.
Ahead, in the darkness, close or far - it was impossible to determine, a red streak of light wavered across our path. I didn’t understand what it was, but I understood what had to be done.
Alexander Vasilievich! - I shouted and gave three beeps to stop.
Explosions of firecrackers (3) were heard under the tires (4) of our wheels. I rushed to Maltsev; he turned his face towards me and looked at me with empty, calm eyes. The needle on the tachometer dial showed a speed of sixty kilometers.
Maltsev! - I shouted. - We're crushing firecrackers! - and extended his hands to the controls.
Away! - Maltsev exclaimed, and his eyes shone, reflecting the light of the dim lamp above the tachometer.
He immediately applied the emergency brake and reversed.
I was pressed against the boiler, I heard the howling of wheel tires, whittling the rails.
Maltsev! - I said. - We need to open the cylinder valves, we’ll break the car.
No need! We won't break it! - answered Maltsev. We stopped. I pumped water into the boiler with an injector and looked outside. Ahead of us, about ten meters, a steam locomotive stood on our line, with its tender (5) in our direction. There was a man on the tender; in his hands was a long poker, red-hot at the end; and he waved it, wanting to stop the courier train. This locomotive was the pusher of a freight train that had stopped at the stage.
This means that while I was adjusting the turbodynamo and not looking ahead, we passed a yellow traffic light, and then a red one and, probably, more than one warning signal from the linemen. But why didn’t Maltsev notice these signals?
Kostya! - Alexander Vasilyevich called me. I approached him.
Kostya! What's ahead of us? I explained to him.
The next day I brought the return train to my station and handed over the locomotive to the depot, because the bandages on two of its ramps had slightly shifted. Having reported the incident to the head of the depot, I led Maltsev by the arm to his place of residence; Maltsev himself was seriously depressed and did not go to the head of the depot.
We had not yet reached the house on the grassy street in which Maltsev lived when he asked me to leave him alone.
“You can’t,” I answered. - You, Alexander Vasilyevich, are a blind man.
He looked at me with clear, thinking eyes.
Now I see, go home... I see everything - my wife came out to meet me.
At the gates of the house where Maltsev lived, a woman, the wife of Alexander Vasilyevich, actually stood waiting, and her open black hair glistened in the sun.
Is her head covered or bare? - I asked.
Without, - answered Maltsev. - Who is blind - you or me?
Well, if you see it, then look,” I decided and walked away from Maltsev.
Maltsev was put on trial, and an investigation began. The investigator called me and asked what I thought about the incident with the courier train. I replied that I thought that Maltsev was not to blame.
The time when the story “In a Beautiful and Furious World” (“Machinist Maltsev”) (1938) was written was turbulent: the country lived with a premonition of war. Literature had to answer the question of what forces the people have to repel the military threat. A. Platonov gave the following answer in his story: “the key to victory is the soul of the people.” The plot was based on the ups and downs of the life of locomotive driver Maltsev. During a thunderstorm, this man lost his sight from a lightning strike and, without noticing it, almost caused the train he was driving to crash. After this, the driver’s vision returned. Unable to explain anything, Maltsev was convicted and went to prison. Maltsev's assistant suggested that the investigator simulate a lightning strike in laboratory conditions. The investigator did just that. The driver's innocence was proven. However, after the experience, Maltsev again lost his sight completely, as he thought. At the end of the story, fate smiled on the hero: he regains his sight.
The work is not so much about trials, but about how people overcome these trials. Maltsev is a man of high romantic spirit. He considers his work a majestic calling, a work of human happiness. The hero of A. Platonov is a poet of his profession. Under his control, the locomotive turns into a semblance of the finest musical instrument, obedient to the will of the artist. A beautiful and furious world surrounds Maltsev. But the world of this man’s soul is just as beautiful and furious.
Anyone can lose physical vision. But not everyone will be able to remain sighted in this grief. Maltsev’s “spiritual vision” did not disappear for a moment. It seems that his recovery at the end of the story is a legitimate reward for the victorious man.
But despite the fact that the story has the subtitle “Machinist Maltsev,” A. Platonov reveals other human stories in the work. The fate of the narrator is interesting. This is a novice railway worker, an assistant driver. He witnessed the drama when Maltsev lost his sight on the way. He, the narrator, had to save this man: the assistant driver talks with the investigator, watching with pain how Maltsev suffers, deprived of the opportunity to do what he loves. The narrator finds himself next to Maltsev at the moment when the driver’s vision returned.
The writer's skill is manifested in the depiction of circumstances, in the ability to show the spiritual evolution of the hero's consciousness. The narrator admits: “I was not Maltsev’s friend, and he always treated me without attention or care.” But this phrase is difficult to believe: the narrator simply cannot overcome modesty and speak out loud about the tenderness of his soul. The final words of the story reveal the whole beautiful and furious world of the soul that both Maltsev and the narrator live in. When it became clear that Maltsev had regained his sight, “...he turned his face to me and began to cry. I approached him and kissed him back: “Drive the car to the end, Alexander Vasilyevich: now you see the whole world!” " Having said “the whole world! “, the narrator seemed to include Maltsev’s spiritual beauty in the concept of “light”: the driver defeated not only external circumstances, but also his internal doubts.
Retelling plan
1. Meet the driver Maltsev and his assistant.
2. Maltsev takes on a difficult task and goes blind while the train is moving. Such lineup management could lead to disaster.
3. Maltsev regains his sight, he is put on trial and sent to prison.
4. A former machinist goes blind again while conducting an investigative experiment with lightning-like electrical discharges.
5. An assistant driver, after a special exam, drives passenger trains himself. He takes the blind Maltsev on a trip.
6. Maltsev begins to see the light.
Retelling
The hero talks about an incident that happened to him and the “best locomotive driver” Maltsev. He was young, thirty years old, but already had a first class qualification and drove fast trains.
Maltsev was the first to be transferred to the new passenger locomotive "IS". The narrator was appointed as his assistant. He was very pleased with the opportunity to master the art of driving, and at the same time become familiar with new technology.
The driver received the new assistant indifferently. He relied only on himself and his knowledge in everything, so he carefully double-checked all the parts and components of the machine. This was a habit, but it insulted the student with lack of faith in his abilities. But for his professionalism, the hero forgave a lot to his teacher, who definitely felt the way. The train was never late; they even quickly made up for delays at intermediate stations along the way.
Maltsev practically did not communicate with either the assistant or the fireman. If he wanted to point out shortcomings in the operation of the machine that needed to be eliminated, he would bang the key on the boiler. He thought that no one else could love a locomotive and drive it the way he did. “And we, however, could not understand his skills,” the author admits.
One day the driver allowed the narrator to drive the train himself. But after some time, he was four and a half minutes behind schedule. Maltsev successfully compensated for this time.
The hero worked as an assistant for almost a year. And then an event happened that changed the lives of the heroes. They took the train four hours late. The dispatcher asked to reduce this gap in order to let the empty truck onto the neighboring road. The train entered the zone of a thundercloud. A blue light hit the windshield, blinding the hero. It was lightning, but Maltsev did not see it.
Night has come. The hero noticed that Maltsev was driving worse, and later it became clear that something was wrong with him. When the hero screamed, the driver braked urgently. A man stood on the road and waved a red-hot poker to stop the train. Ahead, just ten meters away, stood a freight locomotive. They did not notice how yellow, red and other warning signals passed. This could lead to disaster. Maltsev ordered an assistant to drive the locomotive, admitting that he was blind.
Having reported the incident to the depot manager, the assistant went to accompany him home. Already on the way to the house, Maltsev regained his sight.
After the incident, Maltsev was put on trial. The investigator called the driver's assistant as a witness, and he said that he did not consider Maltsev guilty, since the driver was blinded by a nearby lightning strike. But the investigator treated these words with distrust, because the lightning had no effect on the others. But the hero had his own explanation. In his opinion, Maltsev became blind from the light of the lightning, and not from the discharge itself. And when lightning struck, he was already blind.
Maltsev was still found guilty because he did not transfer control to an assistant, risking the lives of hundreds of people. From the investigator the hero went to Maltsev. When asked why he did not trust him with his place, he replied that it seemed to him that he saw the light, but in fact it was in his imagination. Maltsev was sent to prison. The hero became an assistant to another driver. But he missed Maltsev, his ability to really work, and did not give up the thought of helping him.
He proposed conducting an experiment with a prisoner using a Tesla installation to produce artificial lightning. However, the experiment was carried out without warning, and Maltsev became blind again. But now the chances of returning vision were much less. Both the investigator and the hero felt guilty for what happened. Having found justice and innocence, Maltsev received an illness that prevented him from living and working.
At this moment, for the first time, the hero came up with the idea of the existence of certain fatal forces that accidentally and indifferently destroy a person. “I saw that facts were occurring that proved the existence of circumstances hostile to human life, and these disastrous forces were crushing the chosen, the exalted people.” But the hero decided not to give up and resist the circumstances. A year later, the former assistant passed the exam to become a driver and began to independently drive passenger trains. Very often he met Maltsev, who, wiping himself on a cane, stood at the station platform and “greedily breathed in the smell of burning and lubricating oil, listened carefully to the rhythmic work of the steam-air pump.” He understood Maltsev’s melancholy, who had lost the meaning of life, but could do nothing to help him.
Maltsev was irritated by friendly words and sympathy. One day the hero promised to take him on a trip if he would “sit quietly.” The blind man agreed to all the conditions. The next morning the hero put him in the driver's seat. He put his hands on top of his, and so they drove to their destination. On the way back, he again put the teacher in his place. And in quiet areas he even allowed him to drive the car on his own. The flight ended safely, the train was not late. The hero hoped for a miracle. On the last stretch, he deliberately did not slow down before the yellow traffic light. Suddenly Maltsev stood up, extended his hand to the regulator and turned off the steam. “I see a yellow light,” he said and began to brake. “He turned his face and cried. I walked up to him and kissed him back." Kostya’s desire to “protect him (his teacher) from the grief of fate” performed a miracle. Until the end of the route, Maltsev drove the car independently. After the flight they sat together all evening and all night. This time the hostile forces retreated.