The owner and employee summary. In the story "The Master and the Worker" the characteristic features of the artistic manner of the late Tolstoy are clearly manifested.

Are you here: Holidays

This publication is an electronic version of the 90-volume collected works of Leo Tolstoy, published in 1928-1958. This is a unique academic publication, the most complete collection legacy of Leo Tolstoy, has long become a bibliographic rarity. In 2006, the Yasnaya Polyana Estate Museum, in cooperation with the Russian state library and with the support of the E. Mellon Foundation and coordination The British Council carried out the scanning of all 90 volumes of the publication. However, in order to take full advantage of electronic version(reading on modern devices, the ability to work with text), there were still more than 46,000 pages to be recognized. For this State Museum L. N. Tolstoy, Yasnaya Polyana museum-estate, together with a partner, ABBYY, opened the project “All Tolstoy in One Click”. More than 3,000 volunteers joined the project on readingtolstoy.ru, and they used ABBYY FineReader to recognize text and correct errors. Literally in ten days, the first stage of reconciliation was completed, and in two months, the second. After the third stage of proofreading volumes and individual works published in in electronic format on the site tolstoy.ru.

The edition retains the spelling and punctuation of the printed version of the 90-volume collected works of Leo Tolstoy.

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Fekla Tolstaya

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Tolstoy in Begichevka.

Photograph 1892

OWNER AND WORKER

I

It was in the 70s, the day after the winter Nikola. There was a holiday in the parish, and the village janitor, the merchant of the 2nd guild, Vasily Andreevich Brekhunov, could not leave: he had to be in the church - he was a church warden - and at home he had to receive and treat relatives and friends. But now the last guests left, and Vasily Andreevich began to get ready to immediately go to the neighboring landowner, in order to buy from him a grove that had long been bargained for. Vasily Andreevich was in a hurry to go, so that the city merchants would not recapture this advantageous purchase from him. The young landowner asked for ten thousand for the grove only because Vasily Andreevich gave seven for it. Seven thousand, however, was only one third of the real value of the grove. Vasily Andreevich, perhaps, would have bargained for more, since the forest was located in his district, and a procedure had long been established between him and the village district merchants, according to which one merchant did not raise prices in the district of another, but Vasily Andreevich found out that the provincial the timber merchants wanted to go to trade in the Goryachkinskaya grove, and he decided to go at once and put an end to the matter with the landowner. And therefore, as soon as the holiday passed, he took out his 700 rubles from the chest, added to them the church 2,300 rubles that he had, so that they amounted to 3,000 rubles, and, having carefully counted them and put them in his wallet, he was about to go.

Worker Nikita, not drunk alone that day; one of Vasily Andreevich's workers ran to harness them. Nikita was not drunk that day because he was a drunkard, and now, with spells, during which he drank away his undercoat and leather boots, he swore to drink and did not drink for the second month; I didn’t drink even now, despite the temptation of drinking wine everywhere on the first two days of the holiday.

Nikita was a 50-year-old man from a nearby village, not a master, as they said about him, most who lived his life not at home, but in people. Everywhere he was valued for his industriousness, dexterity and strength in work, most importantly - for his kind, pleasant character; but nowhere did he get along, because twice a year, or even more often, he would drink, and then, in addition to drinking everything from himself, he became even more violent and captious. Vasily Andreevich also chased him away several times, but then took him again, cherishing his honesty, love for animals, and, most importantly, cheapness. Vasili Andreevich paid Nikita not 80 rubles, how much such a worker cost, but 40 rubles, which he gave him without calculation, little by little, and even then for the most part not in money, but at an expensive price in goods from the shop.

Nikita's wife, Martha, who used to be a beautiful lively woman, kept house with a small teenager and two girls and did not invite Nikita to live at home, firstly, because for 20 years she had lived with a cooper, a peasant from a foreign village, who stood at them in the house; and secondly, because although she pushed her husband around as she liked when he was sober, she was afraid of him like fire when he was drunk. Once, having drunk drunk at home, Nikita, probably in order to take revenge on his wife for all his sober humility, broke open her chest, took out her most precious outfits and, taking an ax, chopped all her sundresses and dresses into small okroshka. The salary earned by Nikita was all given to his wife, and Nikita did not contradict this. So now, two days before the holiday, Martha came to Vasily Andreevich and took from him white flour, tea, sugar and an eighth of wine, three rubles in total, and she also took five rubles in money and thanked for this, as for a special favor, then how at the cheapest price for Vasily Andreevich there were 20 rubles.

- Did we make any arrangements with you? - said Vasily Andreevich to Nikita. - It is necessary - take it, you will live. I'm not like people: wait, yes, calculations, yes fines. We are honored. You serve me, and I do not leave you.

And, saying this, Vasily Andreevich was sincerely convinced that he was doing good to Nikita: he was so convincing in his ability to speak, and so all the people who depended on his money, starting with Nikita, supported him in this conviction that he was not deceiving, but doing good to them.

- Yes, I understand, Vasily Andreevich; I think I serve, I try, like my own father. I understand very well,” replied Nikita, realizing very well that Vasily Andreevich was deceiving him, but at the same time feeling that it was useless to even try to explain his calculations with him, but to live until there was no other place, and take what they give.

Now, having received the owner’s order to harness, Nikita, as always, cheerfully and willingly, with a cheerful and light step of his goose-walking legs, went to the barn, removed a heavy bridle with a tassel from a nail and, rattling the bits with rams, went to the closed barn, in which The horse that Vasily Andreevich had ordered to be harnessed stood apart.

- What, missed you, missed you, fool? - said Nikita, answering the weak neighing of greeting with which he was greeted by a well-built, somewhat lop-sided, karak, mukhorty stallion, who was standing alone in the barn. - But, but! hurry up, give me a drink first, ”he spoke to the horse in exactly the same way as they speak to creatures that understand the words, and, fanning his hollow, fat back with a groove in the middle, corroded and covered with dust, he put a bridle on the stallion’s beautiful young head, freed his ears and choker and, having thrown off the coat, he led him to drink.

Cautiously getting out of the highly littered barn, Mukhorty began to play and bucked, pretending that he wanted to trot Nikita, who was running with him to the well, with his back foot.

- Pamper, pamper, rogue! - Nikita kept saying, knowing the caution with which Mukhorty raised his back leg only so as to touch his greasy coat, but not hit, and especially loved this manner.

Having drunk the cold water, the horse sighed, moving his wet strong lips, from which transparent drops dripped from his mustache into the trough, and froze, as if in thought; then suddenly she snorted loudly.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t need to, we’ll know; don’t ask for more,” said Nikita, completely seriously and in detail explaining his behavior to Mukhortom; and again he ran to the barn, tugging on the reins of the bucking and crackling cheerful young horse all over the yard.

There were no workers; there was only one stranger, the cook's husband, who had come to the feast.

“Go and ask, dear soul,” Nikita told him, “what kind of sleigh should I order to harness: move or tiny?

The cook's husband went to the iron-roofed house on a high foundation and soon returned with the news that the tiny ones had been ordered to be harnessed. By this time Nikita had already put on the yoke, tied up a saddle studded with carnations, and, carrying a light painted bow in one hand, and leading the horse with the other, approached the two sledges standing under the barn.

“In tiddly ones, so tiddly ones,” he said, and led an intelligent horse into the shafts, all the time pretending that she wanted to bite him, and with the help of the cook's husband, he began to harness.

When everything was almost ready and all that was left to do was start the fire, Nikita sent the cook's husband to the barn for straw and to the barn for rope.

- That's fine. But, but, don't stumble! - said Nikita, crushing in the sleigh the freshly threshed oat straw brought by the cook's husband. “Now, let’s lay the sackcloth like this, and put a string on top.” Like this, like this, it will be good to sit, - he said, doing what he said, - tucking a string over the straw on all sides around the seat.

“Thank you, dear soul,” Nikita said to the cook’s husband, “everything is easier together. - And, having dismantled the reins with a ring at the connected end, Nikita sat down on the frame and touched the good horse, which was asking for a move, along the frozen manure of the yard to the gate.

- Uncle Mikit, uncle, uncle! shouted a seven-year-old boy in a black sheepskin coat, new white felt boots and a warm hat, hurriedly running out of the passage into the yard behind him in a thin voice. “Put me down,” he begged, buttoning up his sheepskin coat as he went.

“Well, well, run, little dove,” said Nikita, and stopping him, he sat down the owner’s pale, thin boy, beaming with joy, and drove out into the street.

It was the third hour. It was frosty - 10 degrees, cloudy and windy. Half the sky was covered low dark cloud. But it was quiet outside. On the street, the wind was more noticeable: snow was falling from the roof of the neighboring shed and it was spinning on the corner, by the bathhouse. As soon as Nikita rode out the gate and turned the horse toward the porch, Vasily Andreevich, with a cigarette in his mouth, in a covered sheepskin coat, tightly and low girded with a sash, came out of the passage onto the high porch, screeching under his skin with sheathed felt boots, trampled by snow, and has stopped. Taking a drag on the rest of the cigarette, he threw it under his feet and stepped on it, and, blowing smoke through his mustache and looking askance at the riding horse, began to fill the corners of the coat collar with the fur inside on both sides of his ruddy, shaved face, except for the mustache, with the fur inside, so that the fur would not sweat. from breathing.

- You see, what a procurator, you have already ripened! he said, seeing his son in the sleigh. Vasily Andreevich was excited by the wine he had drunk with the guests, and therefore even more than usual was pleased with everything that belonged to him and everything that he did. The sight of his son, whom he always thought of as his heir, now gave him great pleasure; he looked at him, screwing up his eyes and baring his long teeth.

Wrapped up over her head and shoulders in a woolen kerchief, so that only her eyes were visible, Vassily Andreevich's pregnant, pale, and thin wife, seeing him off, stood behind him in the passage.

“Really, I would take Nikita,” she said, stepping out timidly from behind the door.

Vassily Andreevich made no reply, and to her words, which were obviously unpleasant to him, he frowned angrily and spat.

“You will go with the money,” his wife continued in the same plaintive voice. - Yes, and the weather would not have risen, really, by golly.

“What am I, or do I not know the way, that I certainly need an escort? said Vassily Andreevich, with that unnatural tightening of his lips with which he usually spoke to sellers and buyers, pronouncing every syllable with particular distinctness.

- Well, right, I would take it. I beg you God! repeated the wife, wrapping the handkerchief on the other side.

- That's how the bath leaf stuck ... Well, where can I take it?

"Well, Vasily Andreevich, I'm ready," Nikita said cheerfully. “Only the horses would have been given food without me,” he added, turning to the mistress.

“I’ll take a look, Nikitushka, I’ll order Semyon,” said the hostess.

“So, shall we go, Vassily Andreevich?” – said Nikita expectantly.

“Yeah, you see, to respect the old woman. Only if you’re going, go and put on some warmer diplomat,” Vasily Andreevich uttered, again smiling and winking at Nikita’s torn, greasy and matted coat, torn under the armpits and in the back and in the hem with a fringe, greasy and matted.

- Hey, dear soul, go out and hold the horse! Nikita called out into the yard to the cook's husband.

- I'm on my own, I'm on my own! squeaked the boy, taking his cold red hands out of his pockets and clutching at the cold belt reins.

“Just don’t hurt your diplomat, live it up!” shouted Vasily Andreevich, scoffing at Nikita.

- In one puff, father Vasily Andreevich, - Nikita said and, quickly flashing his socks inside with his old felt boots lined with felt soles, he ran into the yard and into the worker's hut.

- Come on, Arinushka, give me my robe from the oven - go with the owner! - Nikita said, running into the hut and removing the sash from the nail.

The worker, who had slept after dinner and was now putting on a samovar for her husband, cheerfully met Nikita and, infected by his haste, just like him, quickly stirred and took out a poor, worn-out cloth caftan that was drying there and began hastily brushing it off and kneading it.

“That’s something you will have a spacious walk with the owner,” Nikita said to the cook, always, out of good-natured courtesy, saying something to a person when he stayed with him eye to eye.

And, circling around him a narrow, matted sash, he pulled his already skinny belly into himself and dragged on a sheepskin coat with all his strength.

“That’s it,” he said after that, turning no longer to the cook, but to the sash, thrusting its ends into his belt, “you won’t jump out like that,” and, raising and lowering his shoulders so that there was swagger in his hands, he put on from above dressing gown, also strained his back, so that his hands were free, padded his armpits and took mittens from the shelf. - Well, that's fine.

“You should change your legs, Stepanych,” said the cook, “otherwise the boots are thin.”

Nikita stopped, as if remembering.

- We should ... Well, yes, get off and so, not far!

And he ran into the yard.

“Will you be cold, Nikitushka?” - said the hostess, when he approached the sleigh.

“It’s cold, it’s warm at all,” Nikita answered, straightening the straw in the heads of the sleigh to cover his legs with it, and thrusting a whip, unnecessary for a good horse, under the straw.

Vasily Andreevich was already sitting in the sleigh, filling with his back, dressed in two fur coats, almost the entire bent back of the sleigh, and immediately, taking the reins, he set off the horse. Nikita, on the move, perched in front on the left side and stuck out one leg.

II

With a slight creak of runners, the good stallion moved the sleigh and set off at a brisk pace along the frosty road knurled in the village.

- Where did you hit on? Give me the whip, Mikita! shouted Vasily Andreevich, obviously rejoicing at the heir, who was about to perch behind him on the skids. - I love you! Run to your mother, you son of a bitch!

The boy jumped off. Mukhorty added ambles and, stammering, switched to a trot.

The crosses in which Vasily Andreevich's house stood consisted of six houses. As soon as they left the last Kuznetsov's hut, they immediately noticed that the wind was much stronger than they thought. The road was almost invisible. The track of the skids was immediately swept up, and the road could be distinguished only by the fact that it was higher than the rest of the place. It was spinning all over the field, and it was not visible that line where the earth converges with the sky. The Telyatinsky forest, always clearly visible, now occasionally vaguely blackened through the snow dust. The wind was blowing from the left side, turning stubbornly to one side the mane on Mukhortoy's steep, puffed-up neck, and turning his fluffy tail tied with a simple knot to one side. The long collar of Nikita, who was sitting on the side of the wind, pressed against his face and nose.

“I don’t have a real run for her, it’s snowy,” said Vasily Andreevich, proud of his good horse. - I once went to Pashutino on it, so it delivered in half an hour.

– Chago? asked Nikita, unable to hear through the collar.

"I've reached Pashutino in half an hour," shouted Vasily Andreevich.

What can I say, good horse! Nikita said.

They were silent. But Vasily Andreevich wanted to talk.

- Well, to the hostess, I punished the cooper not to drink tea? Vasily Andreevich spoke in the same loud voice, so sure that Nikita should be flattered to talk to such a significant and smart person like him, and so pleased with his joke that it never occurred to him that this conversation might be unpleasant for Nikita.

Nikita again did not hear the sound of the master's words carried by the wind.

Vasili Andreevich repeated his joke about the cooper in his loud, distinct voice.

“God be with them, Vasily Andreevich, I don’t delve into these matters. I don’t want her to offend the little one, otherwise God bless her.

"That's right," said Vasili Andreevich. - Well, what about, will you buy a horse by spring? he began new item conversation.

“Yes, we can’t escape,” answered Nikita, turning up the collar of his caftan and leaning over to the owner.

Now the conversation was interesting to Nikita, and he wanted to hear everything.

“The little one has grown up, you have to plow yourself, and then everyone was hired,” he said.

- Well, take a boneless one, I won’t put it dearly! shouted Vassily Andreevich, feeling agitated and, as a result, attacking his favorite occupation, which consumed all his mental strength, the occupation - hawking.

“If you give me fifteen rubles, I’ll buy it on horseback,” said Nikita, who knew that the red price of the boneless, which Vasily Andreevich wants to sell him, is seven rubles, and that Vasily Andreevich, giving him this horse, will count it twenty-five rubles. , and then for six months you will not see money from him.

- The horse is good. I wish you the same as myself. Conscience. Brekhunov will not offend any person. Let mine disappear, not like the others. By honor, - he shouted in his voice, with which he spoke his teeth to his sellers and buyers. - The horse is real!

"As it is," said Nikita, sighing, and, making sure that there was nothing more to listen to, let his hand open the collar, which immediately covered his ear and face.

They drove in silence for half an hour. The wind blew through Nikita's side and arm, where the fur coat was torn.

He shrunk and breathed into the collar that covered his mouth, and he was not cold at all.

- What do you think, will we go to Karamyshevo, or straight ahead? asked Vasily Andreevich.

On Karamyshevo, the ride was along a more brisk road, lined with good poles in two rows, but further. Directly it was closer, but the road was little traveled, and there were no poles, or they were inferior and overcast.

Nikita thought a little.

“But you can’t go astray just to go straight through the hollow, but it’s good in the forest there,” said Vasily Andreevich, who wanted to go straight.

"Your will," said Nikita, and again turned up his collar.

Vasily Andreevich did just that, and, having driven off half a verst, at a high oak branch dangling in the wind with dry leaves hanging on it in some places, turned to the left.

The wind from the turn became almost oncoming to them. And it started snowing from above. Vassily Andreevich ruled, puffed out his cheeks and breathed into his moustache from below. Nikita was dozing.

They drove in silence for about ten minutes. Suddenly Vasily Andreevich began to speak.

– Chago? Nikita asked, opening his eyes.

Vassily Andreevich did not answer, and bent over, looking back and forth in front of the horse. The horse, curled with sweat in the groin and on the neck, walked at a pace.

- What are you, I say? repeated Nikita.

- Chago, chago! Vasili Andreevich mimicked him angrily. - You can't see the pins! Must have gone wrong!

“So stop, I’ll take a look at the road,” said Nikita, and, easily jumping off the sleigh and taking out a whip from under the straw, he went to the left and from the side on which he was sitting.

The snow this year was not deep, so there was a road everywhere, but all the same, in some places it was knee-deep and fell asleep in Nikita's boots. Nikita walked, felt with his feet and with a whip, but there was no road anywhere.

- Well? said Vasili Andreevich, when Nikita went up to the sleigh again.

“There is no road on this side. You have to go to that side.

“There’s something blackening ahead, you go and look there,” said Vasily Andreevich.

Nikita went there too, went up to what was turning black—it was the blackening of the earth, pouring over the snow from the bare winters and turning the snow black. Walking to the right as well, Nikita returned to the sleigh, beat the snow off himself, shook it out of his boot, and got into the sleigh.

“You have to go to the right,” he said decisively. - The wind was in my left side, and now it’s right in the face. Went to the right! he said decisively.

Vasili Andreevich listened to him and took to the right. But there was no road. They drove like this for a while. The wind did not decrease, and the snow began to fall.

“And we, Vasily Andreevich, have apparently gone completely astray,” Nikita suddenly said, as if with pleasure. - What's this? he said, pointing to black potato leaves sticking out from under the snow.

Vasili Andreevich stopped the horse, which was already perspiring and heavily moving with its steep flanks.

- And what? - he asked.

- And the fact that we are on the Zakharovsky field. Wow where did you go!

- Vre? replied Vasily Andreevich.

“I’m not lying, Vasily Andreevich, but I’m telling the truth,” said Nikita, “and you can hear from the sleigh - we’re driving through the potatoes; and there heaps - they brought the tops. Zakharovsky factory field.

The writer excludes an ordinary, ordinary person from ordinary prosaic reality and puts him in a position that gives him the opportunity to see himself and his life in a new light. (Unexpected painful and fatal disease official Ivan Ilyich, the murder of a respectable nobleman Pozdnyshev of his wife, the death in the forest of the freezing merchant Brekhunov.) Such a deliberate dramatization of the situation allows Tolstoy to tear off "everything and every mask" from traditional, established social and personal relations with special force and depth.

At the same time, Tolstoy needs the “exclusive position” of the hero to assert that salvation from contradictions real life, from social evil in moral enlightenment.

One of the peculiarities of Tolstoy's talent is the ability for subtle psychological analysis, the ability to reveal the "dialectics of the soul." However psychological analysis in later works Tolstoy is distinguished by great originality.

The writer is now interested in the mental process only if it is the result of spiritual dissatisfaction, struggle, doubts, leading to a radical change in the views, ideas, and behavior of the hero. A catastrophe, a dramatic event, thanks to which the moral enlightenment of the hero begins, becomes a necessary, central element of the plot. That is why, in The Master and the Worker, psychological analysis is focused on the most important, from the author's point of view, "turning point" episode - the last moments of Brekhunov's life.

The repetition of a characteristic detail, characteristic of Tolstoy's artistic manner, is widely used in The Master and the Worker as a means of character typing, expressiveness of the portrait, character's speech, mental state, natural phenomena, etc.

The description of a blizzard, for example, achieves an unusually strong emotional impression thanks to the repeated mention of frozen linen desperately fluttering in the wind, terribly buzzing vines, and a lonely Chernobyl.

The bulging, hawk-like eyes of Brekhunov, the light, cheerful gait of Nikita's "goose-stepping feet" are constantly mentioned in the story; in Brekhunov's speech the words "we are honored" are repeated, in Nikita's speech - "sweet soul", being an example of Tolstoy's amazing ability to reveal the essential features of human individuality with a well-found detail.

Mother" is far from a completed work, but even in the passages known to us at the beginning of the story, Tolstoy's desire to show is clearly visible that among the privileged classes, where relations between people are imbued with hypocrisy and deceit, and children are brought up in conditions of luxury and idleness, it cannot to be a good family, "there is no ... honest marriage" (From a letter from L. N. Tolstoy to V. G. Chertkov dated April 24, 1890 - vol. 87, p. 24.) Tolstoy intended to oppose the husband of the heroine of the story selfless worker - teacher Peter Nikiforovich.Peter Nikiforovich was the only person who had a beneficial effect on children.

The idea that "it is impossible to be a good person who lives wrong" (T. 51, p. 57.), That is, who lives in idleness, someone else's labor, defines ideological content story "Mother", as well as most of the works of Tolstoy 80 - 90-ies. However, Tolstoy sees the resolution of this deep social issue only in following the abstract "truths" of morality and religion. That is why in the image of Pyotr Nikiforovich, embodying his positive ideal, the writer emphasizes and poeticizes, first of all, the high "Christian" qualities: severe asceticism, neglect of material wealth, complete self-denial.

To characterize the aesthetic views of Tolstoy in the period under review, the Preface to S. T. Semenov's "Peasant Tales" is of great interest. As in other articles on art in the 1980s and 1990s, Tolstoy argues in this preface that art should be put at the service of the interests of the people, be accessible to the broad masses of the people. During the period when the preface to Semenov's stories was being written, Tolstoy became more and more convinced that the true purpose of art is to depict the life of the working people, that the only reader for whom one can work with enthusiasm and profit is a reader from the people. . “I can’t write with enthusiasm for the gentlemen, you can’t get through them: they have philosophy, and theology, and aesthetics, with which they, like armor, are protected from any truth that requires following it,” he writes in 1895 to his daughter Maria Lvovna - And if I think that I am writing for Afanasyev and ... for Danil and Ignatov and their children, then I feel cheerful and want to write "(T. 68.).

At that time, Tolstoy paid special attention and love to the writings of peasant writers - S. T. Semenov, F. A. Zheltov, F. F. Tishchenko and others. magazines and collections, gives them advice and guidance. Under the direct influence of Tolstoy, the realistic works of these writers were created, imbued with love for the people and based on knowledge of the life of the people. On the other hand, not without the influence and support of Tolstoy, religious and moralistic tendencies were also established in their work, due to the principle "to describe not the truth of what is, but the truth of the kingdom of God ..." (L. N. Tolstoy, "Foreword to the collection "Flower Garden" -- vol. 26, p. 308.)

ST Semyonov met Tolstoy in 1886, when he brought him "for trial" his first work - the story "Two Brothers". Tolstoy approved the story, and soon it was published by the Posrednik publishing house. Since then, Semyonov often visited Tolstoy in Moscow and in Yasnaya Polyana, corresponded with him. Tolstoy accepted lively participation in literary work Semenov, highly appreciated his literary talent, knowledge and truthful image them peasant life.

In 1894, Tolstoy wrote a preface to Semyonov's first collection of short stories. Giving an assessment of the "Peasant Tales", Tolstoy notes that their content "is always significant ... it concerns the most significant class of Russia - the peasantry." He considers truthfulness, sincerity, simplicity of artistic form, national language, brightness to be a great advantage of Semenov's works. speech characteristics characters. All this determines, according to Tolstoy, the strength of the impact of these stories on the reader.

On the other hand, entirely in the spirit of his religious and moral teachings, Tolstoy argues that the main thing in work of art and, in particular, in Semenov's stories, the author's assessment of the characters' behavior from the point of view of the "ideal of Christian truth." Fairly demanding from the artist not only to portray, but also to evaluate people, their actions, Tolstoy considers the abstract "Christian truth" to be the main criterion for this assessment.

The preface to "Peasant Tales" was written at the time of Tolstoy's intense interest in aesthetic issues. As in a number of articles of 1889-1891 and in the "Preface to the Works of Guy de Maupassant" (See vol. 30.), Tolstoy, in the preface to Semenov's stories, affirms those principles of art that were substantiated by him later in the treatise "What is art?". The ruthless rejection of false art, which is an idle pastime of the exploiting classes, justifying their privileged position, and the affirmation of art that would aim to serve the interests of the people, constitute the content of these articles. The aspirations of the multi-million masses of the Russian peasantry, doomed under the conditions of the autocratic police system tsarist Russia on hopeless darkness and ignorance, reflected in this dream of Tolstoy about folk art.

As the revolution of 1905 approached and social contradictions aggravated in Russia, Tolstoy more and more often had doubts about the possibility of reorganizing life on the basis of non-resistance and moral perfection, and he came to the just conclusion that "masters ... you can’t get through with anything." Despite this, he persistently last days of his life, preached his "recipes for the salvation of mankind." To the greatest extent weak sides Tolstoy's views were manifested in such articles placed in this volume as "The First Step", "Not Doing", "Foreword to Amiel's Diary".

The article "Not doing" (1893) is devoted to the analysis of E. Zola's speech "Youth" and the letter of A. Dumas-son to the editor of the French newspaper "Golua". Zola's speech was directed against the passion for mysticism and fideism that spread among the bourgeois-noble intelligentsia at the end of the last century. Warning young people against this hobby, Zola urged them to believe in science and work, which, according to Zola, give the meaning of life and serve as a guarantee of its steady improvement. The idealist Dumas, in response to Zola's article, on the contrary, placed all his hopes on " Christian faith", which supposedly will unite all people in the pursuit of brotherly love, save them from the existing evil and injustice.

It is known what specific historical content is contained in Zola's call to believe in science and work. A sober observer of capitalist society, a realist writer who mercilessly exposed the vices of this society, Zola, at the same time, was not free from bourgeois prejudices. His ideas about the struggle for a just social system were ultimately reduced to the program of bourgeois reformism.

Assessing all the events of his contemporary life from the point of view of the interests of the multimillion-strong patriarchal peasantry, Tolstoy vigilantly noticed the weak points of Zola's speech. He rightly protests against the abstract formulation of the question of science and labor, because he knows that in bourgeois society labor serves mainly to enrich the exploiters at the expense of the exploited, while bourgeois science serves to justify the existing system. “Let everyone work hard. But what?” asks Tolstoy. “A stock market player, a banker returns from the stock exchange where he worked hard; a manufacturer from his establishment, where thousands of people ruin their lives over the work of mirrors, tobacco, vodka. All these people work, but is it really possible to encourage their work?

However, what Tolstoy opposes to Zola's appeals testifies to his own impotence to indicate the true ways of changing life. Agreeing with A. Dumas, Tolstoy hopes that it is enough for people to comprehend the gospel "truth" about "non-doing" (do not do to others what you do not want them to do to you), and the world will be transformed by itself. Dreaming of a "collectivist way of life", Tolstoy expresses the utopian and reactionary idea that the propertied strata of society are capable of realizing their "sin", repenting and recognizing as "obligatory for themselves either the religious Christian law of love, or the same Christianity based secular law of respect for others". life, personality and human rights". So the article "Not Doing" once again proves that Tolstoy was unable to find a genuine way out of the contradictions of contemporary reality. His "recipes for the salvation of mankind" cannot be assessed otherwise than as delusions, reflecting the "immaturity of daydreaming, political bad manners, revolutionary softness" (V. I. Lenin, Works, vol. 15, p. 185.) of the patriarchal peasantry in the period of preparation and carrying out the first revolution in Russia.

"Master and Worker"

Andreevich, perhaps, would have bargained for more, since the forest was located in his district, and a procedure had long been established between him and the village district merchants, according to which one merchant did not raise prices in the district of another, but Vasily Andreevich found out that the provincial timber merchants wanted to go shopping

Goryachkinskaya grove, and he decided to go at once and put an end to the matter with the landowner.

And therefore, as soon as the holiday was over, he took out his seven hundred rubles from the chest, added to them the two thousand and three hundred church rubles that he had, so that they amounted to three thousand rubles, and, diligently counting them and putting them in his wallet, got ready to go.

The worker Nikita, the only one of Vasily Andreevich's workers who was not drunk that day, ran to harness them. Nikita was not drunk that day because he was a drunkard, and now, with the charms, during which he drank away his undercoat and leather boots, he swore to drink and did not drink for the second month; I didn’t drink even now, despite the temptation of drinking wine everywhere on the first two days of the holiday.

Nikita was a fifty-year-old peasant from a nearby village, a non-owner, as they said about him, who lived most of his life not at home, but in people. Everywhere he was appreciated for his diligence, dexterity and strength in work, most importantly - for his kind, pleasant character; but nowhere did he get along, because twice a year, or even more often, he took to drink, and then, in addition to drinking everything from himself, he became even more violent and captious. Vasily Andreevich also chased him away several times, but then took him again, cherishing his honesty, love for animals, and, most importantly, cheapness. Vasili Andreevich paid Nikita not eighty rubles, as such a worker cost, but forty rubles, which he gave him without calculation, in small change, and even then for the most part not in money, but at an expensive price in goods from the shop.

Nikita's wife, Marfa, who used to be a beautiful, lively woman, kept house with a small teenager and two girls and did not invite Nikita to live at home, firstly, because for twenty years she had lived with a cooper, a peasant from a foreign village, who stood by in their house; and secondly, because although she pushed her husband around as she pleased when he was sober, she was afraid of him like fire when he was drunk. Once, having drunk drunk at home, Nikita, probably to avenge his wife for all his sober humility, broke open her chest, took out her most precious outfits and, taking an ax, chopped all her sundresses and dresses into small okroshka. The salary earned by Nikita was all given to his wife, and Nikita did not contradict this. So now, two days before the holiday, Martha came to Vasily Andreevich and took from him white flour, tea, sugar and an eighth of wine, three rubles in total, and she also took five rubles in money and thanked for this, as for a special favor, then how at the cheapest price Vassily Andreevich had twenty rubles.

Have we made any arrangements with you? - said Vasily Andreevich

Nikita. - It is necessary - take it, you will live. I'm not like people: wait, yes, calculations, yes fines. We are honored. You serve me, and I do not leave you.

And, saying this, Vasily Andreevich was sincerely convinced that he was doing good to Nikita: he was able to speak so convincingly, and so all the people who depended on his money, starting with Nikita, supported him in this conviction that he was not deceiving, but doing good to them.

Yes, I understand, Vasily Andreevich; I think I serve, I try, like my own father. I understand very well,” answered Nikita, realizing very well that

Vasily Andreevich deceives him, but at the same time he feels that there is no point in trying to clarify his calculations with him, but that he must live until there is no other place, and take what they give.

But, but! hurry up, give it to dad first, ”he spoke to the horse in exactly the same way as one speaks to creatures that understand words, and, fanning a hollow fat back with a groove in the middle, corroded and covered with dust, he put a bridle on the stallion’s beautiful young head, pulled out his ears and bangs and, having thrown off the coat, he led him to drink.

Cautiously getting out of the high, flooded barn, Mukhorty began to play and bucked, pretending that he wanted to trot Nikita, who was running with him to the well, with his back foot.

Pamper, pamper, rascal! - Nikita kept saying, knowing the caution with which Mukhorty raised his back leg only so as to touch his greasy coat, but not hit, and especially loved this manner.

If you don't want it, you don't need it, we'll know; don't ask for more, he said.

Nikita, quite seriously and in detail explaining his behavior

Mukhortoma; and again he ran to the barn, tugging on the reins of the bucking and crackling cheerful young horse all over the yard.

There were no workers; there was only one stranger, the cook's husband, who had come to the feast.

Go and ask, dear soul, - Nikita told him, - what kind of sleigh to order to harness: move or tiddly?

The cook's husband went to the iron-roofed house on a high foundation and soon returned with the news that the tiny ones had been ordered to be harnessed. By this time Nikita had already put on the yoke, tied up a saddle studded with carnations, and, carrying a light painted bow in one hand, and leading the horse in the other, approached the two sledges standing under the barn.

In tiddly ones, so in tiddly ones, ”he said, and led an intelligent horse into the shafts, all the time pretending that she wanted to bite him, and with the help of the cook’s husband, he began to harness.

When everything was almost ready and all that remained was to light it up, Nikita sent the cook's husband to the shed for straw and to the barn for rope.

That's okay, But, but, don't stomp! - said Nikita, crushing in the sleigh the freshly threshed oat straw brought by the cook's husband. - And now, let's put the sackcloth on the bed like that, and on top of it, string. Like this, like this, it will be good to sit, - he said, doing what he said, - tucking a string over the straw on all sides around the seat.

Thank you, dear soul," Nikita said to the cook's husband, "everything is easier together. - And, having dismantled the harness with a ring at the connected end of the reins, Nikita sat down on the frame and touched the good horse, which was asking for a move, along the frozen manure of the yard to the gate.

Uncle Mikit, uncle, uncle! shouted a seven-year-old boy in a black sheepskin coat, new white felt boots and a warm hat, hurriedly running out of the passage into the yard behind him in a thin voice. “Put me down,” he asked, buttoning up his sheepskin coat as he went.

Well, well, run, little dove, - said Nikita and, stopping, he sat down the master's pale, thin boy, beaming with joy, and drove out into the street.

It was the third hour. It was frosty - ten degrees, overcast and windy.

Half of the sky was covered with a low dark cloud. But it was quiet outside. On the street, the wind was more noticeable: snow was falling from the roof of the neighboring barn, and it was spinning on the corner, by the bathhouse. As soon as Nikita rode out the gate and turned the horse toward the porch, Vasily Andreevich, with a cigarette in his mouth, in a covered sheepskin coat, tightly and low girded with a sash, came out of the passage onto the high porch, screeching under his skin with sheathed felt boots, trampled by snow, and stopped. Taking a drag on the rest of the cigarette, he threw it under his feet and stepped on it, and, blowing smoke through his mustache and looking askance at the riding horse, began to tuck the corners of the collar of his sheepskin coat with the fur inward on both sides of his ruddy, shaved face, except for his mustache, so that the fur would not sweated for breath.

You see, what a procurator, you have already ripened! - he said, seeing his son in the sleigh. Vasily Andreevich was excited by the wine he had drunk with the guests, and therefore even more than usual was pleased with everything that belonged to him and everything that he did. The sight of his son, whom he always thought of as his heir, now gave him great pleasure; he, screwing up his eyes, baring his long teeth, looked at him.

Wrapped up over her head and shoulders in a woolen kerchief, so that only her eyes were visible, Vassily Andreevich's pregnant, pale, and thin wife, seeing him off, stood behind him in the passage.

Really, I would take Nikita, ”she said, timidly stepping out from behind the door.

Vassily Andreevich made no reply, and to her words, which were obviously unpleasant to him, he frowned angrily and spat.

You will go with money, - the wife continued in the same plaintive voice. - Yes, and the weather would not have risen, really, by golly.

What am I, or do I not know the way, that I certainly need an escort? -

Vasily Andreevich spoke with that unnatural tension of his lips with which he usually spoke to sellers and buyers, pronouncing every syllable with particular distinctness.

Well, right, I would. I beg you God! - repeated the wife, wrapping the handkerchief on the other side.

That's how the bath leaf stuck ... Well, where can I take it?

Well, Vasily Andreevich, I'm ready,' said Nikita cheerfully. “Only the horses would have been given food without me,” he added, turning to the mistress.

I'll take a look, Nikitushka, I'll order Semyon, - said the hostess.

So, shall we go, Vasily Andreevich? - said Nikita, waiting.

Yes perishing, in sight, respect the old woman. Only if you’re going, go and put on some warmer diplomat,” Vasily Andreevich uttered, again smiling and winking an eye at Nikita’s torn, greasy and matted coat, torn under the armpits and in the back and in the hem, with a fringe, greasy and matted.

Hey, dear soul, come out and hold the horse! Nikita called out into the yard to the cook's husband.

I myself, I myself! squeaked the boy, taking his chilled red hands out of his pockets and clutching at the cold belt reins.

Just don’t hurt your diplomat, live it up! - shouted

Vasily Andreevich, scoffing at Nikita.

In one puff, father Vasily Andreevich, - Nikita said and, quickly flashing his socks inside with his old felt boots lined with felt soles, he ran into the yard and into the worker's hut.

Come on, Arinushka, give me my robe from the stove - go with the owner! -

said Nikita, running into the hut and removing the sash from the nail.

The worker, who had slept after dinner and was now setting the samovar for her husband, cheerfully met Nikita and, infected by his haste, just like him, quickly stirred and took out a poor, worn-out cloth caftan that was drying there and began hastily shaking and kneading it.

That’s something you will have a spacious walk with the owner, ”Nikita said to the cook, always out of good-natured courtesy saying something to a person when he stayed with him eye to eye.

And, circling around him a narrow, matted sash, he pulled his already skinny belly into himself and dragged on a sheepskin coat with all his strength.

That's it, - he said after that, turning no longer to the cook, but to the sash, thrusting its ends into his belt, - but you will jump out, - and, raising and lowering his shoulders so that there was swagger in his hands, he put on a dressing gown , also strained his back, so that his hands were free, knocked under his armpits and took out mittens from the shelf. - Well, that's fine.

You should change your legs, Stepanych, - said the cook, - otherwise the boots are thin.

Nikita stopped, as if remembering.

We ought to ... Well, yes, get off and so, not far!

And he ran into the yard.

Will you be cold, Nikitushka? - said the hostess, when he approached the sleigh.

It’s cold, it’s warm at all, ”Nikita answered, straightening the straw in the heads of the sleigh to cover his legs with it, and thrusting a whip, unnecessary for a good horse, under the straw.

With a slight creak of runners, the good stallion moved the sleigh and set off at a brisk pace along the frosty road knurled in the village.

Where did you get stuck? Give me the whip, Mikita! shouted Vassily Andreevich, obviously rejoicing at the heir, who was about to perch on the runners behind him.

I you! Run to your mother, you son of a bitch!

The boy jumped off. Mukhorty added an amble and, stammering, switched to a trot.

The crosses in which Vasily Andreevich's house stood consisted of six houses.

As soon as they left the last, Kuznetsov's hut, they immediately noticed that the wind was much stronger than they thought. The road was almost invisible.

The track of the skids was immediately swept up, and the road could be distinguished only because it was higher than the rest of the place. It was spinning all over the field, and it was not visible that line where the earth converges with the sky. The Telyatinsky forest, always clearly visible, only occasionally dimly blackened through the snow dust. The wind was blowing from the left side, turning stubbornly to one side the mane on Mukhortoy's steep, puffed-up neck, and turning his fluffy tail tied with a simple knot to one side. The long collar of Nikita, who was sitting on the side of the wind, pressed against his face and nose.

She has no real run, it’s snowy, ”said Vasily Andreevich, proud of his good horse. - I once went to Pashutino on it, so it delivered in half an hour.

Chago? - Nikita asked, not hearing through the collar.

In Pashutino, I say, I arrived in half an hour, ”Vasily Andreevich shouted.

What can I say, good horse! Nikita said.

They were silent. But Vasily Andreevich wanted to talk.

Well, to the hostess, I punished the cooper not to drink tea? Vasily Andreevich spoke in the same loud voice, so convinced that Nikita should be flattered to talk to such an important and intelligent person as he was, and so pleased with his joke that it never occurred to him that this conversation could be unpleasant. Nikita.

Nikita again did not hear the sound of the master's words carried by the wind.

Vasili Andreevich repeated his joke about the cooper in his loud, distinct voice.

God bless them, Vasily Andreevich, I don't go into these matters. I don’t want her to offend the little one, otherwise God bless her.

That's right," said Vasily Andreevich. - Well, well, are you going to buy a horse by spring? he began a new subject of conversation.

Yes, we can't escape, - answered Nikita, turning off the collar of his caftan and leaning over to the owner.

Now Nikita was interested in the conversation, and he wanted to hear everything.

The little one has grown, you have to plow yourself, and then everyone was hired, ”he said.

Well, take a boneless one, I won’t put it expensive! Vasily shouted.

Andreevich, feeling excited and as a result attacking his beloved, absorbing all his mental strength, occupation - hawking.

Otherwise, give me fifteen rubles, I’ll buy it on horseback, ”said Nikita, who knew that the red price of the boneless, which Vasily wants to sell him

Andreich, seven roubles, but that Vasily Andreevich, having given him this horse, will count it at twenty-five rubles, and then you will not see money from him for half a year.

The horse is good. I wish you the same as myself. Conscience. Brekhunov will not offend any person. Let mine disappear, not like the others.

As it is, - said Nikita, sighing, and, making sure that there was nothing more to listen to, let his collar open with his hand, which immediately covered his ear and face.

They drove in silence for half an hour. The wind blew through Nikita's side and arm, where the fur coat was torn.

He shrunk and breathed into the collar that covered his mouth, and he was not cold at all.

What do you think, will we go straight to Karamyshevo? - asked Vasily

At Karamyshevo, the ride was along a more brisk road, lined with good poles in two rows, but further. Directly it was closer, but the road was little traveled and there were no landmarks, or they were poor, skidded.

Nikita thought a little.

Why, you can’t go astray straight through the hollow, but there it’s good in the forest,

Said Vasili Andreevich, who wanted to go straight ahead.

It's up to you," said Nikita, and again turned up his collar.

Vasily Andreevich did just that, and, having driven off half a verst, at a tall oak branch swaying in the wind with dry leaves hanging on it in some places, he turned to the left.

The wind from the turn became almost oncoming to them. And it started snowing from above.

Vassily Andreevich ruled, puffed out his cheeks and breathed into his moustache from below. Nikita was dozing.

They drove in silence for about ten minutes. Suddenly Vasily Andreevich began to speak.

Chago? asked Nikita, opening his eyes.

Vassily Andreevich did not answer, and bent over, looking back and forth in front of the horse. The horse, curled with sweat in the groin and on the neck, walked at a pace.

What are you, I say? repeated Nikita.

Chago, chago! Vasili Andreevich mimicked him angrily. - You can't see the pins! Must have gone wrong!

So stop, I’ll look at the road, ”said Nikita, and, easily jumping off the sleigh and taking out a whip from under the straw, he went to the left and from the side on which he was sitting.

The snow this year was not deep, so there was a road everywhere, but still in some places it was knee-deep and covered Nikita in his boots. Nikita walked, felt with his feet and with a whip, but there was no road anywhere.

Well? said Vasily Andreevich, when Nikita went up to the sleigh again.

There is no road on this side. You have to go to that side.

There is something blackening ahead, you go there and look, - said Vasily

Nikita went there too, went up to what was turning black - this was the blackening of the earth, which had been thrown over the snow from the bare winters and dyed the snow black.

Walking to the right as well, Nikita returned to the sleigh, beat the snow off himself, shook it out of his boot, and got into the sleigh.

You have to go to the right,” he said decisively. - The wind was on my left side, and now it's right in the face. Went to the right! he said decisively.

Vasili Andreevich listened to him and took to the right. But there was no road. They drove like this for a while. The wind did not decrease, and the snow began to fall.

And we, Vasily Andreevich, have apparently gone completely astray, - Nikita suddenly said, as if with pleasure. - What's this? he said, pointing to black potato leaves sticking out from under the snow.

Vasili Andreevich stopped the horse, which was already perspiring and heavily moving with its steep flanks.

And what? - he asked.

And the fact that we are on the Zakharovsky field. Wow where did you go!

Vre? replied Vasily Andreevich.

I’m not lying, Vasily Andreevich, but I’m really saying, ”said Nikita,“ and you can hear from the sleigh - we’re driving through the potatoes; and there are heaps - they brought the tops.

Zakharovsky factory field.

Look, where have you gone! said Vasily Andreevich. - How can it be?

But we must take it straight, that's all, let's go somewhere, - said

Nikita. - Not to Zakharovka, so we'll go to the manor's farm.

Vasily Andreevich obeyed and let the horse go, as Nikita ordered. They drove like this for quite some time. Sometimes they drove out onto bare greenery, and the sleigh rattled over the quivers of frozen ground. Sometimes they went out to stubble, now to winter, then to spring, along which from under the snow one could see sagebrush and straw dangling from the wind; sometimes they drove into deep and everywhere the same white even snow, from above which nothing could be seen.

Snow came from above and sometimes rose from below. The horse, obviously, was tired, all curled up and frosty with sweat, and walked at a pace. Suddenly she broke off and sat down in a waterhole or in a ditch. Vasily Andreevich wanted to stop him, but Nikita shouted at him:

What to keep! We drove in - we had to leave. But, honey! but! but dear!

The horse rushed and immediately got out onto a frozen embankment. Obviously, it was a dug ditch.

Where are we? said Vasily Andreevich.

But let's find out! Nikita answered. - Touch know, we'll go somewhere.

But this must be the Goryachkinsky forest? said Vassily Andreevich, pointing to something black that appeared from behind the snow in front of them.

We'll drive up, we'll see what kind of forest it is, - said Nikita.

Nikita saw that from the side of the blackened something the dry oblong leaves of the willow were rushing, and therefore he knew that this was not a forest, but a dwelling, but did not want to speak. And indeed, they had not yet passed ten sazhens after the ditch, when, obviously, the trees turned black in front of them, and some new dull sound was heard. Nikita guessed correctly: it was not a forest, but a row of tall vines, with leaves still fluttering on them here and there. The vines were apparently planted along the ditch of the threshing floor. Having driven up to the sloughs humming dejectedly in the wind, the horse suddenly rose with its front legs higher than the sleigh, climbed out with its hind legs on a hill, turned to the left and ceased to be buried in the snow up to its knees. It was the road.

So they arrived, - said Nikita, - but no one knows where.

The horse, without losing his way, went along the covered road, and they did not drive along it forty sazhens, when a straight strip of wattle fence under the roof thickly covered with snow, from which snow continued to fall, turned black. Passing the barn, the road turned into the wind, and they drove into a snowdrift. But ahead there was an alley between two houses, so that, obviously, a snowdrift had blown up on the road, and it was good to run over it. And indeed, having crossed the snowdrift, they drove into the street. At the outer yard, frozen linen hung up desperately from the wind: shirts, one red, one white, trousers, onuchi and a skirt.

The white shirt was especially desperately torn, waving its sleeves.

You see, the woman is lazy, or she didn’t collect linen for the holiday, or die, -

said Nikita, looking at the dangling shirts.

At the beginning of the street it was still windy and the road was visible, but in the middle of the village it became quiet, warm and cheerful. At one yard a dog was barking, at another a woman, covering her head with a coat, ran from somewhere and entered the door of the hut, stopping on the threshold to look at the passers-by. From the middle of the village the songs of the girls were heard.

There seemed to be less wind, snow, and frost in the village.

But this is Grishkino, ”said Vasily Andreevich.

It is, - answered Nikita.

And indeed, it was Grishkino. It turned out that they strayed to the left and drove about eight versts, not quite in the direction they needed, but nevertheless moved towards their destination. It was five versts from Grishkin to Goryachkin.

In the middle of the village they came across a tall man walking in the middle of the street.

Who is going? - shouted this man, stopping the horse, and immediately recognizing Vasily Andreevich, grabbed the shaft and, moving his hands along it, went to the sleigh and sat on the pole.

It was a peasant, Isai, whom Vassily Andreevich knew, well known in the district for being the first horse thief.

BUT! Vasily Andreevich! Where is God taking you? - said Isai, dousing

Nikita with the smell of drunk vodka.

Yes, we were in Goryachkino.

Where did you go! You should go to Malakhovo.

You don't need much, but they didn't please, - said Vasily Andreevich, stopping the horse.

The horse is kind, - said Isai, looking around the horse and tightening the weakened knot of the knotted thick tail with the habitual movement to the very spoke.

Well, spend the night, right?

No, brother, you must go.

It is necessary, obviously. And whose is it? A! Nikita Stepanych!

And then who? Nikita answered. - But as it were, dear soul, we will not go astray here again.

Where can you get lost! Turn back, go straight down the street, and there, as you leave, everything is straight. Don't take it to the left. You will go to the highway, and then - to the right.

Where is the turn from the highway? Summer or winter? - asked

By winter. Now, as you leave, there are bushes, opposite the bushes there is still a large oak pole, curly-haired, - here it is.

Vasili Andreevich turned his horse back and rode along the settlement.

And then we would spend the night! Isai shouted to them from behind.

But Vasily Andreevich did not answer him and touched the horse: five versts of flat road, two of which were forest, seemed easy to drive, especially since the wind seemed to have died down and the snow had ceased.

Having again passed along the street along a road that was knurled and blackened in some places with fresh manure and passed a yard with linen, whose white shirt had already been torn off and hung on one frozen sleeve, they again drove out to the terribly humming vines and again found themselves in an open field. The blizzard not only did not subside, but seemed to intensify. The whole road was swept up, and one could know that he had not lost his way, only by the landmarks. But it was difficult to see the landmarks ahead, because the wind was oncoming.

Vasili Andreevich screwed up his eyes, bent his head and looked at the poles, but let his horse go more, hoping for it. And the horse really did not stray and walked, turning now to the right, then to the left along the meanders of the road, which she sensed under her feet, so that, despite the fact that the snow from above intensified and the wind intensified, the landmarks continued to be visible now to the right, then to the left.

So they rode for about ten minutes, when suddenly something black appeared right in front of the horse, moving in an oblique net of snow driven by the wind. They were fellow travelers. Mukhorty caught up with them completely and thumped his feet on the chairs of the sleigh ahead.

Go around ... ah-ah ... in front! - shouted from the sleigh.

Vasily Andreevich began to drive around. Three men and a woman sat in a sleigh.

Obviously, these were guests from the holiday. One peasant whipped the snow-covered behind of a horse with a twig. Two, waving their hands, shouted something in the front.

A wrapped-up woman, all covered with snow, sat motionless, huddled in the back of the sleigh.

Whose will you be? shouted Vasily Andreevich.

A-ah-ah ... skies! - was just audible.

Whose, I say?

Ah-ah-ah! one of the peasants shouted with all his might, but still it was impossible to hear which ones.

Wali! Don't give up! - shouted another, without ceasing to thresh with a twig on a horse.

From the holiday, you see?

Go, go! Wali, Semka! Drive around! Wali!

The sledges knocked against each other with the bends, almost caught, disengaged, and the peasant sleigh began to lag behind.

A shaggy, all covered with snow, belly horse, breathing heavily under a low arch, obviously trying in vain with her last strength to escape from the twig that struck her, hobbled her short legs in deep snow, throwing them under her. The muzzle, obviously young, with its lower lip tucked up like a fish's, with dilated nostrils and ears flattened in fear, held on for a few seconds near Nikita's shoulder, then began to lag behind.

Wine does something, - said Nikita. - They tortured a horse for decoration.

Asians as is!

For several minutes the snuffling of the nostrils of the tortured horse and the drunken cries of the peasants were heard, then the sniffling subsided, then the cries fell silent. And

all around again nothing could be heard, except for the whistling wind near the ears and the occasional faint creak of the runners over the blown-out parts of the road.

This meeting amused and encouraged Vasily Andreevich, and he bolder, without taking apart the stakes, drove the horse, hoping for it.

Nikita had nothing to do, and, as always, when he was in such a position, he dozed off, making up for a lot of sleepless time. Suddenly the horse stopped, and Nikita almost fell, pecking forward with his nose.

But we're not going well again," said Vasili Andreevich.

Yes, no pegs to be seen. They must have lost their way again.

But we lost our way, we need to look, - Nikita said curtly, got up and again, lightly stepping with his inward turned feet, went to walk in the snow.

He walked for a long time, hiding from view, again showing himself and again hiding, and finally returned.

There is no road here, maybe somewhere ahead, - he said, getting into the sleigh.

It was already starting to get dark. The blizzard did not intensify, but did not weaken either.

If only I could hear those peasants,” said Vasili Andreevich.

Yes, you see, they didn’t catch up, they must have strayed far. Or maybe they got lost

Nikita said.

Where to go then? said Vasily Andreevich.

And you need to let the horse go, - said Nikita. - He lead. Come on reins.

Vasily Andreevich gave up the reins all the more willingly, as his warm-gloved hands began to feel chilly.

Nikita took the reins and only held them, trying not to move them, rejoicing for the mind of his pet. Indeed, a smart horse, turning first one ear, then the other, began to turn.

Just don't talk, - Nikita kept saying. - Look what to do! Go, go know! Well well.

The wind began to blow back, it became warmer.

And smart, - continued to rejoice at the horse Nikita. - Kirghizenok -

he is strong, but stupid. And this one, look what you do with your ears. You don't need a telegraph, you can smell it a mile away.

And before half an hour had passed, something really blackened ahead:

a forest, a village, and on the right side the landmarks appeared again. Apparently, they were back on the road again.

But this is Grishkino again, - Nikita suddenly said.

Indeed, now on the left they had the same barn from which the snow was blowing, and further on the same rope with frozen linen, shirts and trousers, which were still desperately ruffled by the wind.

Again they drove into the street, again it became quiet, warm, cheerful, again the dung road became visible, again voices and songs were heard, again the dog barked. It was already so dark that some of the windows were lit up with lights.

In the middle of the street, Vassily Andreevich turned his horse towards a large house with two brick links and stopped it at the porch.

Nikita went up to the lighted window, in the light of which fluttering snowflakes shone, and tapped with a whip.

From Krestov, the Brekhunovs, a dear man," answered Nikita. - Get out for an hour!

They moved away from the window, and after about two minutes - one could hear - the door in the passage came unstuck, then the latch in the outer door banged, and, holding the door from the wind, leaned out a tall old peasant with a white beard in a sheepskin coat thrown over a white festive shirt, and behind him a fellow in red shirt and leather boots.

Are you, Andreich? - said the old man.

Yes, they got lost, brother, - said Vasily Andreevich, - they wanted to

Goryachkino, but here you are. We drove off, got lost again.

You see, how they got lost, - said the old man. - Petrushka, go open the gate! -

he turned to the little one in the red shirt.

Yes, we, brother, do not spend the night, - said Vasily Andreevich.

Where to go - night time, spend the night!

And I would be glad to spend the night, but I have to go. You can't do it, brother.

Well, warm yourself to the extreme, straight to the samovar,” said the old man.

It is possible to get warm, - said Vasily Andreevich, - it will not get darker, but the moon will rise - it will brighten. Let's go in, let's get warm, Mikit?

Well, well, you can get warm, - said Nikita, who was very cold and really wanted to warm his cold members in the warmth.

Vasily Andreevich went with the old man to the hut, and Nikita rode into the open

Parsley gate and, at his direction, pushed the horse under the shed of the barn. The shed was flooded, and a high arc caught on the line. The hens with the rooster, already seated on the line, began to croak something displeased and scratched the line with their paws. The alarmed sheep, stamping their hooves on the frozen manure, shied away. The dog, squealing desperately, with fright and anger like a puppy, barked at the stranger.

Nikita talked to everyone: he apologized to the chickens, reassured them that he would not disturb them again, reproached the sheep for being frightened, without knowing why, and incessantly admonished the little dog while he tied the horse.

That's the way it will be all right, - he said, slapping the snow off himself. -

Look, it's flooding! he added to the dog. - Yes, you will! Well, you will, stupid, you will. You're only worrying about yourself, he said. - Not thieves, their ...

And these, as they say, are three household advisers, ”said the fellow, throwing strong hand under the canopy the sleds remaining outside.

How about advisors? Nikita said.

And so it is printed in Pulson: a thief creeps up to the house, a dog barks - do not yawn, then look. The rooster sings - so get up. The cat is washing itself, which means, dear guest, get ready to treat him, ”said the fellow, smiling.

Petruha was literate and knew almost by heart the only book he had of Paulson and loved, especially when he was a little drunk, as now, to quote from it sayings that seemed to him suitable for the occasion.

That's right, - said Nikita.

I'm freezing, I'm tea, uncle? - added Petruha.

Yes, there is, - said Nikita, and they went through the yard and the hall to the hut.

The yard into which Vasily Andreevich stopped was one of the richest in the village. The family kept five allotments and took on more land on the side.

There were six horses in the yard, three cows, two heels, about twenty sheep.

There were twenty-two souls of all the family in the yard: four married sons, six grandchildren, of which one Petruha was married, two great-grandchildren, three orphans and four daughters-in-law with children. It was one of the few houses left undivided; but even in him there was already going on a deaf inner work of discord, as always begun between the women, which was inevitably bound to soon lead to a division. Two sons lived in Moscow in water carriers, one was a soldier. At home now there were an old man, an old woman, the second son - the owner and the eldest son, who had come from Moscow for the holiday, and all the women and children; in addition to the family, there was also a guest-neighbor and godfather.

Above the table in the hut hung a lamp with an upper shield, brightly illuminating under it tea utensils, a bottle of vodka, snacks and brick walls hung with icons in the red corner and pictures on both sides of them. In the first place sat at the table in one black sheepskin coat, Vasily Andreevich, sucking on his frozen mustache and looking around at the people and the hut with his bulging hawkish eyes.

Besides Vasily Andreevich, a bald-headed, white-bearded old master in a white homespun shirt was sitting at the table; next to him, in a thin cotton shirt, with a hefty back and shoulders, is a son who came from Moscow for a holiday, and another son, broad-shouldered - the older brother who was in charge of the house, and a thin red-haired man - a neighbor.

The peasants, after drinking and eating, were just about to drink tea, and the samovar was already buzzing, standing on the floor by the stove. On the floorboards and on the kidney, children could be seen. A woman was sitting on the bunk above the cradle. The old hostess, with her face covered in all directions with small wrinkles, which even wrinkled her lips, looked after Vasily Andreevich.

While Nikita was entering the hut, she poured a glass of vodka into a thick glass and brought it to her guest.

Don't blame me, Vasily Andreevich, you can't, you should congratulate, - she said. - Eat, killer whale.

The sight and smell of the vodka, especially now that he was cold and tired, greatly embarrassed Nikita. He frowned and, brushing off the snow from his hat and caftan, stood in front of the icons and, as if not seeing anyone, crossed himself three times and bowed to the icons, then, turning to the old owner, bowed first to him, then to all who were at the table, then to the women, standing near the stove, and, saying: "With

holiday," he began to undress, not looking at the table.

Well, you are frosty, uncle, - said the elder brother, looking at Nikita's snow-covered face, eyes and beard.

Nikita took off his caftan, brushed it off again, hung it up by the stove, and went up to the table.

He was also offered vodka. There was a moment of agonizing struggle: he almost took the glass and knocked the fragrant light moisture into his mouth; but he looked at

Vasily Andreevich, he remembered his vow, he remembered his drunken boots, he remembered the cooper, he remembered the fellow, to whom he promised to buy a horse by spring, sighed and refused.

I don’t drink, thank you humbly,” he said, frowning, and sat down on a bench by the second window.

Why so? - said the older brother.

I don’t drink, and I don’t drink either,” said Nikita, without raising his eyes, looking askance at his thin mustache and beard and thawing icicles from them.

It's not good enough for him," said Vasily Andreevich, biting a glass of wine he had drunk with a bagel.

Well, so a seagull, - said the affectionate old woman, - I'm tea, chilled, hearty. What are you, women, digging with a samovar?

Ready, - answered the young woman and, fanning the covered samovar that was leaving with a curtain, with difficulty carried it, lifted it and knocked it on the table.

Meanwhile, Vasily Andreevich was telling how they got lost, how they returned twice to the same village, how they strayed, how they met drunks. The hosts marveled, explained where and why they had lost their way and who the drunks they met were, and taught them how to drive.

Here a small child will reach Molchanovka, only to please at the turn from the highway - you can see a bush here. But you didn't make it! the neighbor said.

And then we would spend the night. The women will lay the bed, - the old woman persuaded.

We'd go in the morning, it's a nice business, - the old man confirmed.

You can't do it, brother! said Vasily Andreevich. “You’ll miss an hour, you won’t make it up in a year,” he added, remembering the grove and the merchants who could interrupt this purchase from him. - Shall we get there? he turned to Nikita.

Nikita did not answer for a long time, as if preoccupied with the thawing of his beard and mustache.

Don't go astray again, - he said gloomily.

Nikita was gloomy because he passionately wanted vodka, and the only thing that could quench this desire was tea, and tea had not yet been offered to him.

Why, we only need to get as far as the turn, and there we won’t go astray; forest to the very place, - said Vasily Andreevich.

It's up to you, Vasily Andreevich; to go so to go, - said Nikita, accepting a glass of tea served to him.

Let's get some tea, and march.

Nikita said nothing, but only shook his head and, carefully pouring the tea into a saucer, began to warm his hands, with fingers always swollen from work, on the steam. Then, biting off a tiny piece of sugar, he bowed to the hosts and said:

Be healthy, - and pulled the warming liquid into himself.

If only someone had escorted us to the turn, said Vassily Andreevich.

Well, it's possible, - said the eldest son. - Petruha harnesses, and leads to the turn.

So buckle up, brother. And I will thank you.

And what are you, killer whale! said the kind old lady. - We are pleased with the soul.

Petruha, go harness the mare, - said the elder brother.

It’s possible,” said Petrukha, smiling, and immediately, tearing off his hat from a nail, ran to harness it.

While the horse was being laid down, the conversation turned to where it left off when Vasili Andreevich rode up to the window. The old man complained to his neighbor-headman about his third son, who did not send him anything for the holiday, but sent a French handkerchief to his wife.

The young people are fighting off the hands, - said the old man.

How he fights back, - said the godfather, - no worries! They became painfully smart. There's Demochkin - that's how he broke his father's arm. All from a great mind, apparently.

Nikita listened, peered into faces, and evidently wanted to take part in the conversation, too, but he was all absorbed in tea and only nodded his head approvingly. He drank glass after glass, and he became warmer and warmer, and nicer and nicer. The conversation went on for a long time, all about the same thing, about the dangers of sections; and the conversation, obviously, was not abstract, but it was a question of a division in this house, a division demanded by the second son, who immediately sat there and was gloomily silent. Obviously, this was a sore point, and this question occupied all the households, but out of decency, in front of strangers, they did not sort out their private business. But, finally, the old man could not stand it and, with tears in his voice, began to say that he would not allow sharing while he was alive, that he had a house, thank God, and everyone would go around the world to share.

That's how the Matveevs are, - said the neighbor. - There was a real house, but they divided it -

no one has anything.

That's what you want, - the old man turned to his son.

The son did not answer, and there was an awkward silence. This silence was broken by Petrukha, who had already laid down his horse and returned to the hut a few minutes before, smiling all the time.

So Pulson has a fable, - he said, - a parent gave his sons a broom to break. They didn’t break it right away, but it was easy along the twig. So it is, - he said, smiling from ear to ear. - Ready! he added.

And it's ready, so let's go, - said Vasily Andreevich. - And about the division, you, grandfather, do not give up. You made money, you and the owner. Give it to the world. He will show the order.

So fordybach, so fordybach, - the old man said in a whining voice, - that there are no frets with him. How rabid exactly!

Nikita, meanwhile, having finished his fifth glass of tea, nevertheless did not turn it over, but put it on his sides, hoping that they would pour him another sixth. But there was no more water in the samovar, and the hostess did not pour him another drink, and Vasily Andreevich began to dress himself.

There was nothing to do. Nikita also got up, put his bit of sugar, bitten all over, back into the sugar bowl, wiped his face, wet with sweat, and went to put on his dressing gown.

Having dressed, he sighed heavily and, after thanking the hosts and saying goodbye to them, went out of the warm, bright room into the dark, cold ones, humming from the wind rushing in them and carried with snow through the cracks of the trembling doors of the entrance hall and from there - into the dark courtyard.

Petruha, in a fur coat, stood with his horse in the middle of the yard and, smiling, spoke verses from Paulson. He said: "The storm with haze to tailor the sky, twist the snow whirlwinds, even as a beast it wins, even to cry like a child."

Nikita shook his head approvingly and took apart the reins.

The old man, seeing off Vassily Andreevich, brought a lantern into the passage and tried to shine it on him, but the lantern immediately blew out. And in the yard it was even noticeable that the blizzard broke out even stronger.

"Well, it's a bit of a wait," thought Vasily Andreevich, "perhaps you won't get there, but you can't, it's business! And you've already got ready, and the master's horse is harnessed. We'll get there, God willing!"

The old owner also thought that he shouldn't have gone, but he already persuaded him to stay, they did not listen to him. There is nothing more to ask. “Perhaps I am so timid from old age, but they will arrive,” he thought. “And at least we will go to bed on time.

No hassle."

Petruha didn’t even think about the danger: he knew the road and the whole area so well, and besides, the rhyme about how to “swirl the snow whirlwinds” invigorated him by the fact that it perfectly expressed what was happening in the yard. Nikita did not at all want to go, but he had long been accustomed not to have his own will and to serve others, so that no one stopped those who were leaving.

Vasily Andreevich went up to the sledge, with difficulty making out in the dark where it was, climbed into it and took the reins.

Went ahead! he shouted.

Petruha, kneeling in the sledge, let his horse go. Mukhorty, who had been neighing for a long time, sensing a mare in front of him, rushed after her, and they rode out into the street. Again they drove along the settlement and the same road, past the same courtyard with frozen linen hung out, which was now no longer visible; past the same barn, which was already carried almost to the roof and from which endless snow was falling; past the same darkly noisy, whistling and bending vines and again drove into that snowy sea raging above and below. The wind was so strong that when it was sideways and the riders sailed against it, it tilted the sled to one side and knocked the horse to the side. Petruha rode at a sprawling trot of his good mare in front and shouted cheerfully. Mukhorty rushed after her.

After driving like that for about ten minutes, Petruha turned around and shouted something. Neither

Vasily Andreevich and Nikita did not hear from the wind, but they guessed that they had come to a turn. Indeed, Petruha turned to the right, and the wind, which had been sideways, again met him, and on the right, through the snow, something black was visible. It was a bush at the turn.

Well, with God!

Thanks, Petruha!

A storm will cut the sky with darkness, - Petruha shouted and disappeared.

Look, what a poet, - said Vasily Andreevich and touched the reins.

Yes, well done, a real man, - said Nikita.

Nikita, having wrapped himself up and pressed his head into his shoulders, so that his small beard hugged his neck, sat silently, trying not to lose the warmth gained in the hut over tea. In front of him he saw the straight lines of the shafts, which constantly deceived him and seemed to him a knurled road, the swaying hindquarters of a horse with a tail tied in one direction, and further, in front, a high arc and a swaying head and neck of a horse with a flowing mane.

From time to time poles caught his eye, so he knew that for the time being they were driving along the road, and there was nothing for him to do.

Vasili Andreevich ruled, leaving the horse to keep to the road. But

Mukhorty, despite the fact that he had sighed in the village, ran reluctantly and seemed to be turning off the road, so that Vasily Andreevich corrected him several times.

“Here is one landmark on the right, here is another, here is the third,” Vasily considered

Andreich, “and here is the forest ahead,” he thought, peering into something blackening in front of him. But what seemed to him a forest was only a bush.

We passed the bush, drove another twenty sazhens, - there was no fourth landmark, and there was no forest. “There must be a forest now,” thought Vasily Andreevich, and, excited by wine and tea, he touched the reins without stopping, and the obedient, kind animal obeyed, and now at a pace, now at a small trot, ran to where he was sent, although he knew that he sent to the wrong place. Ten minutes passed, still there was no forest.

But we got lost again! said Vasily Andreevich, stopping the horse.

Nikita silently got out of the sleigh and, holding on to his dressing-gown, now sticking to his sweat, now turning away and getting down from it, went to climb in the snow; went one way, went the other. Three times he was out of sight. At last he returned and took the reins from Vasily Andreevich's hands.

You have to go to the right,” he said sternly and decisively, turning his horse.

Well, to the right, so I went to the right, ”said Vasily Andreevich, handing over the reins and thrusting his chilled hands into his sleeves.

Nikita didn't answer.

Well, my friend, work hard, - he shouted at the horse; but the horse, despite the shaking of the reins, walked only at a pace.

The snow was knee-deep in some places, and the sledge twitched with every movement of the horse.

Nikita took out a whip hanging on the front and whipped it. The good-natured horse, unaccustomed to the whip, rushed off, went at a trot, but immediately again switched to walking and walking. So five minutes went by. It was so dark and so smoking from above and below that the arc was sometimes not visible. The sleigh sometimes seemed to stand still, and the field ran backwards. Suddenly the horse stopped abruptly, apparently sensing something was wrong in front of him. Nikita again jumped out easily, throwing down the reins, and went ahead of the horse to see why it had stopped; but just as he was about to take a step in front of the horse, his feet slipped and he rolled down some kind of steep.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, he said to himself, falling and trying to stop, but he could not help himself and stopped, only crashing with his feet into the thick layer of snow deposited at the bottom of the ravine.

A snowdrift hanging from the edge of the steep, disturbed by Nikita's fall, fell on him and covered him with snow by the collar ...

Eco how are you! - Nikita said reproachfully, turning to the snowdrift and the ravine and shaking the snow from behind his collar.

Nikita, oh Nikita! shouted Vasily Andreevich from above.

But Nikita did not respond.

He had no time: he dusted himself off, then looked for the whip, which he dropped when he rolled down the steep slope. Finding the whip, he climbed straight back where he had fallen, but there was no way to get in; he rolled back, so that he had to go down to look for an exit up. About three sazhens from the place where he rolled down, he with difficulty climbed up the mountain on all fours and walked along the edge of the ravine to the place where the horse should have been. He did not see the horse and sleigh; but as he walked into the wind, before he saw them, he heard the cries of Basil

Andreich and the neighing of Mukhortoy, who called him.

I'm coming, I'm coming, why are you laughing! he said.

It was only when he had reached the sledge that he saw the horse and Vassily Andreevich, standing beside them, who seemed huge.

Where the hell did you go? You have to go back. At least we'll return to Grishkino, - the owner began to reprimand Nikita angrily.

And I would be glad to return, Vasily Andreevich, but where should I go? There is such a ravine that you get there - and you won’t get out, I lit it up there so that I pulled myself out by force.

Why not just stand here? You have to go somewhere, - said Vasily

Nikita didn't answer. He sat on the sledge with his back to the wind, took off his shoes and shook out the snow that had accumulated in his boots, and, taking out straws, carefully plugged the hole in his left boot with it from the inside.

Vasili Andreevich was silent, as if he had left everything to Nikita now.

Having changed his shoes, Nikita put his feet into the sleigh, put on his mittens again, took the reins and turned his horse along the ravine. But they had not gone even a hundred paces, when the horse again balked. In front of her again was a ravine.

Nikita climbed out again and again went to climb in the snow. He walked for quite some time. Finally appeared from the opposite side from which he had gone.

Andreich, is he alive? he shouted.

Here! replied Vasily Andreevich. - Well?

You won't understand anyway. Dark. Some ravines. We must go back to the wind.

We arrived again, Nikita walked again, climbing in the snow. He sat down again, climbed again, and finally, out of breath, stopped by the sleigh.

Well? asked Vasily Andreevich.

Yes, I'm exhausted! Yes, and the horse becomes.

So what to do?

Yes, wait.

Nikita left again and soon returned.

Follow me,” he said, stepping in front of the horse.

Vasily Andreevich no longer ordered anything, but dutifully did what Nikita told him.

Here, follow me! Nikita shouted, moving quickly to the right and seizing Mukhortoy by the reins and guiding him downward into a snowdrift.

The horse at first rested, but then rushed, hoping to slip through the snowdrift, but did not master it and sat down in it up to the yoke.

Get out! Nikita shouted at Vasily Andreevich, who was still sitting in the sledge, and, grabbing one of the shafts, began to push the sleigh towards the horse. -

It's hard, brother, - he turned to Mukhortom, - but what to do, try hard! But, but, a little! he shouted.

The horse rushed once, twice, but still did not get out and again sat down, as if pondering something.

Well, brother, it’s so wrong, ”advised Nikita Mukhortoy. - Well, more!

Again Nikita dragged the shaft from his side; Vasili Andreevich did the same with the other. The horse moved its head, then suddenly took off.

Well! but! you won't drown! shouted Nikita.

A jump, another, a third, and finally the horse got out of the snowdrift and stopped, panting and shaking itself. Nikita wanted to lead on, but

Vasily Andreevich was so out of breath in his two fur coats that he could not walk and fell into the sleigh.

Let me breathe,” he said, unraveling the handkerchief with which he tied the collar of his fur coat in the village.

Nothing here, you lie down, - said Nikita, - I will spend, - and with Vasily

Andreevich in the sleigh led the horse by the bridle down about ten paces and then up a little and stopped.

The place where Nikita stopped was not in a hollow, where the snow, swept off the mounds and remaining, could completely cover them, but it was still partly protected from the wind by the edge of the ravine. There were moments when the wind seemed to subside a little, but this did not last long, and as if in order to make up for this rest, the storm swept in after that with tenfold force, tore and twisted even more angrily. Such a gust of wind struck the minute

Vassily Andreevich, recovering his breath, climbed out of the sledge and went up to Nikita to talk about what to do. Both involuntarily crouched down and waited to speak until the fury of the impulse had passed. Mukhorty also flattened his ears in displeasure and shook his head. As soon as a gust of wind passed a little, Nikita, taking off his mittens and tucking them into the sash, breathing into his hands, began to untie the leash from the bow.

What are you doing? asked Vasily Andreevich.

I pull back, what else can I do? I don’t have any urine,” Nikita answered, as if apologizing.

Why don't we go somewhere?

We will not leave, we will only torture the horse. After all, he, sincere, has become out of his mind, ”said Nikita, pointing to the horse obediently standing, ready for everything and heavily carried by steep and wet sides. “We must spend the night,” he repeated, as if he were going to spend the night at an inn, and began to untie the supon.

The pincers popped up.

Will we freeze? said Vasily Andreevich.

Well? And if you freeze, you won't refuse, - Nikita said.

Vasily Andreevich was quite warm in his two fur coats, especially after he had fiddled in the snowdrift; but a chill ran down his spine when he realized that he really needed to spend the night here. To calm down, he got into the sledge and began to get cigarettes and matches.

Meanwhile Nikita was unharnessing his horse. He untied the underbelly, the loincloth, loosened it, took off the tug, twisted the bow and, without ceasing to talk with the horse, encouraged it.

Well, come out, come out, - he said, leading her out of the shaft. - Yes, we'll tie you here. I’ll put straws in and unpack them, ”he said, doing what he said. - Eat, you'll have more fun.

But Mukhorty, obviously, was not calmed down by Nikita's speeches and was anxious; he shifted from foot to foot, pressed close to the sledge, standing with his back to the wind, and rubbed his head against Nikita's sleeve.

As if only in order not to refuse Nikita his treat with straw, which Nikita slipped under his snoring, Mukhorty once impetuously grabbed a bundle of straw from the sled, but immediately decided that now it was not a matter of straw, threw it away, and the wind instantly disheveled straw, carried it away and covered it with snow.

Now let's make a sign, ”said Nikita, turning the sled to face the wind, and, tying the shafts with a loincloth, he lifted them up and pulled them to the front.

Here's how to take us kind people to see by the shafts, dig out, - said

Nikita, patting his mittens and putting them on. That's how the old people taught.

Meanwhile, Vassily Andreevich, loosening his fur coat and covering himself with its skirts, was rubbing one sulfur match after another on a steel box, but his hands were trembling, and the matches that lit up one after another, either not yet flaring up, then at the very moment he brought it up to a cigarette, blown by the wind. At last one match caught fire and lit up for a moment the fur of his fur coat, his hand with a gold ring on index finger and oat straw, covered with snow, knocked out from under the rope, and the cigarette caught fire. Once or twice he greedily pulled, swallowed, blew smoke through his mustache, wanted to inhale more, but the tobacco was torn off with fire and carried away to the same place as the straw.

But even these few sips of tobacco smoke amused Vassily Andreevich.

To spend the night so to spend the night! he said decisively.

Wait a minute, I’ll make a flag, ”he said, picking up a handkerchief, which he, having removed from his collar, had thrown into the sledge, and, taking off his gloves, stood in the front of the sleigh and, stretching out to reach the loincloth, tied it with a tight knot to him a handkerchief beside the shafts.

The handkerchief immediately frayed desperately, now sticking to the shaft, then suddenly puffing, stretching and snapping.

You see, how cleverly, - said Vasily Andreevich, admiring his work, sinking into the sledge. “It would be warmer together, but we won’t sit down together,” he said.

I'll find a place, - answered Nikita, - only the horse needs to be covered, otherwise he cried out, cordial. Let me go,” he added, and going up to the sleigh, he pulled the rope from under Vasily Andreevich.

And, taking out the rope, he folded it in half, and, first throwing off his harness and taking off his saddle, he covered Mukhorty with it.

You'll be warmer and warmer, little fool," he said, falling again onto the horse's saddle and harness. - And you will not need a sackcloth? Yes, give me straws, ”said Nikita, having finished this business and again went up to the sledge.

And, taking both of them from under Vassily Andreevich, Nikita went behind the back of the sleigh, dug a hole for himself there in the snow, put straw in it, and, pulling his cap and wrapping himself in a caftan and covering himself with sackcloth, sat down on the spread straw, leaning against to the back of the sleigh, which protected it from wind and snow.

Vasily Andreevich shook his head disapprovingly at what Nikita was doing, how he generally disapproved of the peasants' ignorance and stupidity, and began to settle in for the night.

He leveled the remaining straw over the sled, put it thicker under his side, and, thrusting his hands into the sleeves, nestled his head into the corner of the sled, against the front that protected him from the wind.

He did not want to sleep. He lay and thought: he thought all about the same one thing, which was sole purpose, the meaning, joy and pride of his life - about how much he has made and can still make money; how many others famous people, have made and have money, and how these others have made and are making money, and how he, like them, can make a lot more money. Purchase

Goryachkinsky forest was a matter of great importance for him. He hoped to profit from this forest at once, maybe tens of thousands. And in his thoughts he began to evaluate the grove he saw in autumn, in which he counted all the trees on two acres.

"The oak will go on the runners. Log houses by themselves. Yes, thirty sazhens of firewood will all be on a tithe," he said to himself. fifty-six tens, and fifty-six tens, and fifty-six fives. He saw that it was more than twelve thousand, but without bills he could not figure out exactly how much. “I won’t give you ten thousand, after all, but eight thousand, so that minus the meadows. I’ll anoint the surveyor - a hundred, or even one and a half; he intends five acres of meadows for me. And for eight he will give. Now three thousand in the teeth. he thought, feeling the wallet in his pocket with the forearm of his hand. "And how they got off the turn, God knows! There should have been a forest and a gatehouse here. You should have heard the dogs. The damned don't bark like that when you need them." He pulled the collar away from his ear and began to listen; the same whistling of the wind was still audible, in the shafts the flapping and snapping of a handkerchief, and the lashing of falling snow on the sledge. It closed again.

“If I knew, I would have stayed the night. Well, it’s all the same, we’ll get there tomorrow too.

Just an extra day. In such weather they won't go either." And he remembered that by the ninth he had to get money for the valukhs from the butcher. "I wanted to come myself; will not find me - the wife will not be able to take the money. Very uneducated.

She doesn’t know how to deal with the present,” he continued to think, recalling how she could not manage with the police officer, who was visiting him at the holiday yesterday.

“It is known - a woman! Where did she see what? What kind of house was ours with our parents?

So-so, a rich village peasant: a rushka and an inn - and all the property is in that. What did I do when I was fifteen? A shop, two taverns, a mill, a dump, two estates for rent, a house with a barn under an iron roof, -

he remembered with pride. - Not like with a parent! Now who is thundering in the district? Brekhunov.

And why? Because - I remember the matter, I try, not like others - lie down or do stupid things. And I don't sleep at night. A blizzard is not a blizzard - I'm going. Well, it's getting done. They think so, jokingly make money. No, you work hard and break your head. So spend the night in the field and don’t sleep at night. Like a pillow from a thought in the head tossing and turning, he thought with pride. - They think that people go out by luck. Vaughn, the Mironovs are in the millions now. And why? Work hard. God will give. If only God bless you."

And the idea that he, too, could be a millionaire like Mironov, who started from nothing, excited Vasili Andreevich so much that he felt the need to talk to someone. But there was no one to talk to... If he could get to Goryachkino, he would have talked to the landowner, put in his glasses.

"Look at you, it's blowing like that! It'll blow in such a way that we won't get out in the morning!" - he thought, listening to a gust of wind that blew into the front, bending it over, and whipped it with snow. He got up and looked around: in the white, wavering darkness, only the blackening head of Mukhorty and his back, covered with a fluttering cord, and his thick knotted tail were visible; all around, from all sides, in front, behind, there was everywhere the same monotonous white wavering darkness, sometimes as if a little brightening, sometimes even more thickening.

“And in vain I listened to Nikita,” he thought. “We should have gone, everyone would have left somewhere.

And then sit here all night. What, I mean, was good? Yes, what kind of work does God give, and not to loafers, couch potatoes or fools. Yes, and you need to smoke! ”He sat down, took out a cigarette box, lay down on his belly, covering the fire with a hollow from the wind, but the wind found a way and put out matches one after another. Finally he managed to light one and lit it. The fact that he achieved his goal was very pleased Although the wind smoked the cigarette more than he did, it still dragged on three times, and he again became more cheerful.

But suddenly, as if something pushed and woke him up. Whether Mukhorty pulled the straw from under him, or something inside him stirred him up - as soon as he woke up, his heart began to beat so quickly and so strongly that it seemed to him that the sleigh was shaking under him. He opened his eyes. Everything around him was the same, only it seemed brighter. "It's getting light," he thought, "it must, and it won't be long until morning." But at once he remembered that it became brighter only because the moon had risen. He got up and looked at the horse first. Mukhorty stood with his back to the wind and was shaking all over. The snow-covered rope turned upside down, the harness slid to one side, and the snow-covered head with flying bangs and mane was now more visible. Vasili Andreevich leaned over to the rear and looked behind him. Nikita was still sitting in the same position in which he had sat down.

The sackcloth with which he covered himself, and his legs were thickly covered with snow. “The peasant wouldn’t freeze; his clothes are bad. You’ll still answer for him. Such a stupid people. Truly ignorance,” thought Vasily Andreevich, and he wanted to take the rope off his horse and cover Nikita, but it was cold to get up and toss and turn, and the horse , I was afraid that it would freeze. "And what did I take it for? All her stupidity is one!" thought Vassily Andreevich, remembering his unloving wife, and again rolled over to his former place at the front of the sleigh. “So uncle once sat all night in the snow,” he recalled, “and nothing. Well, they dug up Sevastyan,” another case immediately presented itself to him, “so he died, froze all over, like a frozen carcass.

If I had stayed overnight in Grishkino, nothing would have happened." And, diligently wrapping himself up so that the warmth of the fur would not be wasted anywhere, but everywhere - in his neck, and in his knees, and in his feet - warmed him, he closed his eyes, trying again But no matter how hard he tried now, he could no longer forget himself, but, on the contrary, felt completely cheerful and animated. Again he began to count profits, debts for people, again began to brag to himself and rejoice at himself and at his position - but everything was now constantly interrupted by creeping fear and an annoying thought about why he did not stay the night in Grishkino. wind situation, but everything seemed awkward to him; he again got up, changed position, wrapped his legs, closed his eyes and calmed down.

But either his crooked legs in strong, felted boots began to whine, or it blew somewhere, and after lying down for a short time, he again recalled with annoyance at himself how he could now lie calmly in a warm hut in

Grishkin, and again he got up, tossed and turned, wrapped himself up, and again went to bed.

Once it seemed to Vassily Andreevich that he heard the cock crow in the distance. He was delighted, turned away his fur coat and began to listen intently, but no matter how hard he strained his hearing, nothing could be heard except the sound of the wind whistling in the shafts and ruffling the handkerchief, in the snow whipping the sledge sliver.

Nikita sat down from the evening, and sat all the time, not moving and not even answering Vasily Andreevich's appeals, who called out to him a couple of times. "He doesn't even have enough goryushka, he must be sleeping," Vasily Andreevich thought with annoyance, peering over the back of the sleigh at Nikita, who was thickly covered with snow.

Vasili Andreevich got up and went to bed twenty times. It seemed to him that there would be no end to this night. “Now it must be close to morning,” he thought once, getting up and looking around. “Let me look at the clock.

We’ll harness it.” Vasily Andreevich knew in the depths of his soul that it couldn’t be morning yet, but he grew more and more shy and wanted to check and deceive himself at the same time. "He dug for a long time until he reached his waistcoat. Forcibly, he pulled out his silver watch with enamel flowers and began to look. Without fire, nothing could be seen. He again lay face down on his elbows and knees, just as when he lit a cigarette, he took out matches and began to light it. Now he set to work more carefully, and, feeling with his fingers the match with the largest amount of phosphorus, he lit it the first time. Putting the dial under the light, he looked and could not believe his eyes ... It was only ten minutes past one. The whole night was still ahead.

"Oh, the night is long!" thought Vasily Andreevich, feeling a chill run down his back, and buttoning up again and hiding himself, he pressed himself against the corner of the sledge, intending to wait patiently. Suddenly, because of the monotonous noise of the wind, he clearly heard some new, lively sound. The sound gradually increased and, having reached perfect clarity, began to weaken just as uniformly. There was no doubt that it was a wolf. And this wolf howled so close that it was clearly audible in the wind how he, moving his jaws, changed the sounds of his voice, Vasily Andreevich threw back his collar and listened attentively. Mukhorty also listened intently, moving his ears, and when the wolf finished his knee, he moved his legs and snorted warningly. After that, Vasily Andreevich could not only fall asleep, but even calm down. No matter how hard he tried to think about his calculations, grandfathers and about his fame and his dignity and wealth, fear took possession of him more and more, and the thought of why he did not stay the night in Grishkin prevailed over all thoughts and mixed with all thoughts.

"God is with him, with the forest, without him, thank God. Oh, to spend the night! -

he said to himself. “They say drunk people freeze,” he thought. “And I drank.”

And, listening to his sensation, he felt that he began to tremble, not knowing himself why he was trembling - from cold or from fear. He tried to close and lie down as before, but he could no longer do it. He could not remain still, he wanted to get up, to do something in order to drown out the fear rising in him, against which he felt powerless. He again took out cigarettes and matches, but there were only three matches left, and all of them were worse. All three oshmura-gali without catching fire.

"Ah, damn you, damned, you're out!" he cursed, not knowing whom, and threw the crumpled cigarette. He wanted to throw the matchbox as well, but he stopped the movement of his hand and put it in his pocket. He was so uneasy that he could no longer remain where he was. He got out of the sleigh and, standing with his back to the wind, began to gird himself tightly and low again.

“Why lie down, wait for death! To sit on horseback - and march,” it suddenly occurred to him. “The horse will not ride. He,” he thought to Nikita,

Still die. What is his life! He does not feel sorry for life, but, thank God, I have something to live ... "

And he, untying the horse, threw the reins around her neck and wanted to jump on her, but the fur coats and boots were so heavy that he broke loose. Then he got up on the sleigh and wanted to get off the sleigh. But the sleigh swayed under his weight, and he broke off again. Finally, for the third time, he pushed the horse towards the sleigh, and, carefully standing on its edge, succeeded in lying with his belly across the horse's back. After lying like that, he leaned forward once, twice, and finally threw his leg over the horse's back and sat down, resting his feet on the shoulder strap of the harness. The jolt of the staggering sleigh woke Nikita, and he got up, and it seemed to Vassily Andreevich that he was saying something.

Listen to you fools! Well, disappear like that, for nothing? - shouted

Vasili Andreevich, adjusting the fluttering flaps of his fur coat under his knees, turned his horse and drove it away from the sledge in the direction in which he assumed that there should be a forest and a gatehouse.

Nikita, from the moment he sat down, covered with sackcloth, behind the back of the sleigh, sat motionless. He, like all people who live with nature and know the need, was patient and could calmly wait for hours, even days, without experiencing any anxiety or irritation. He heard the owner calling him, but did not answer, because he did not want to move and respond. Although he was still warm from drinking tea and from moving a lot, climbing over snowdrifts, he knew that this warmth would not last long, and that he would no longer be able to warm himself by movement, because he felt as tired as he feels a horse, when it becomes, cannot, in spite of any whip, go further, and the owner sees that it is necessary to feed it so that it can work again. One of his feet, in a torn boot, had grown cold, and he no longer sensed on it. thumb. And besides, his whole body was getting colder and colder. The thought that he might and even, in all likelihood, should die that night came to him, but this thought seemed to him neither particularly unpleasant nor especially terrible. This thought did not seem particularly unpleasant to him, because his whole life was not a constant holiday, but, on the contrary, was an incessant service, from which he began to tire. This thought was not especially terrible, because, apart from those masters, like Vasily Andreevich, whom he served here, he always felt in this life depending on the main master, the one who sent him into this life, and he knew that and dying, he will remain in the power of the same owner, and that this owner will not offend. "It's a pity to leave the habitual, habitual? Well, what can you do, and you have to get used to the new."

“Sins?” he thought, and remembered his drunkenness, drunken money, insults to his wife, swearing, not going to church, non-observance of fasts, and everything that the priest reprimanded him for in confession. “It is known, sins. did he put them on himself? Apparently, God made me like that. Well, and sins! Where are you going to go?"

So he thought at first about what might happen to him that night, and then he did not return to these thoughts and gave himself up to those memories that spontaneously came to his mind. Now he recalled the arrival of Marfa, and the drunkenness of the workers, and his refusals of wine, now the present trip, and Tarasov's hut, and talk about divisions, now about his little one, and about Mukhort, who will now warm himself under a blanket, then about the owner, who creaks now the sleigh, tossing and turning in them.

“Also, I’m tea, my heart, I’m not glad that I went,” he thought. “I don’t want to die from such a life. Not like our brother.” And all these memories began to intertwine, interfere in his head, and he fell asleep.

When Vasily Andreevich, as he mounted his horse, rocked the sleigh, and the back, against which Nikita was resting his back, completely recoiled, and his back was hit by the runner, he woke up and, willy-nilly, was forced to change his position. FROM

straightening his legs with difficulty and showering snow from them, he got up, and immediately a painful cold permeated his whole body. Realizing what was going on, he wanted to

Vasili Andreevich left him a rope, now unnecessary for the horse, to cover himself with, and shouted to him about it.

But Vasily Andreevich did not stop and disappeared into the snow dust.

Left alone, Nikita thought for a moment what he should do. He felt unable to go looking for a place to live. It was no longer possible to sit in the old place -

it was all covered in snow. And in the sleigh, he felt that he would not get warm, because he had nothing to cover himself with, his caftan and fur coat now did not warm him at all. He was so cold, as if he was wearing only a shirt. He became terrified. "Father, heavenly father!" - he said, and the realization that he was not alone, but someone heard him and would not leave him, calmed him. He took a deep breath and, without removing the sackcloth from his head, climbed into the sleigh and lay down in it in the place of the owner.

But even in the sleigh he could not keep warm. At first he trembled all over, then the trembling passed, and he gradually began to lose consciousness. Whether he was dying or falling asleep, he did not know, but he felt equally ready for both.

Meanwhile Vasili Andreevich was driving the horse with both feet and the ends of the reins to where, for some reason, he assumed a forest and a gatehouse. The snow blinded his eyes, and the wind seemed to want to stop him, but he, leaning forward and constantly wrapping his fur coat and tucking it between himself and the cold saddle that prevented him from sitting, did not stop driving the horse. The horse, although with difficulty, but obediently, walked at an amble to where he sent it.

For about five minutes he rode, as it seemed to him, all straight ahead, seeing nothing but the horse's head and the white desert, and hearing nothing but the whistle of the wind near the horse's ears and the collar of his fur coat.

Suddenly something blackened in front of him. His heart beat joyfully in him, and he rode this black one, already seeing in it the walls of the houses of the village. But this black was not motionless, but everything was moving, and it was not a village, but a tall chernobyl that had grown up on the boundary, sticking out from under the snow and desperately dangling under the pressure of the wind that bent it all in one direction and whistled in it. And

For some reason, the sight of this Chernobyl, tormented by the merciless wind, made Vasily Andreevich shudder, and he hurriedly began to urge the horse, not noticing that, approaching the Chernobyl, he had completely changed his previous direction and was now driving the horse in a completely different direction, all the same. still imagining that he was going in the direction where the gatehouse should have been. But the horse kept turning to the right, and therefore he kept turning it to the left.

Something blackened ahead of him again. He was delighted, sure that now it must be a village. But it was again a boundary, overgrown with Chernobyl. Again the dry weeds fluttered just as desperately, for some reason inspiring fear in Vasily Andreevich. But not only was it the same weeds, - near him was a horse trail, blown by the wind. Vassily Andreevich stopped, bent down, and looked closely: it was a horse's track, slightly covered, and could not have been anyone else's than his own. He was obviously circling, and in a small space. "I'll be lost like this!" - he thought, but in order not to succumb to fear, he began to drive the horse even more vigorously, peering into the white snowy mist, in which he seemed to see luminous points, which immediately disappeared as soon as he peered into them. Once it seemed to him that he heard the barking of dogs or the howling of wolves, but these sounds were so weak and indefinite that he did not know whether he heard something, or whether it only seemed to him, and he stopped and began to listen intently.

Suddenly, some terrible, deafening scream rang out near his ears, everything trembled and fluttered under him. Vasily Andreevich grabbed the horse's neck, but the horse's neck was shaking all over, and the terrible cry became even more terrible. For several seconds Vasily Andreevich could not come to his senses and understand what had happened. BUT

all that happened was that Mukhorty, whether encouraging himself or calling on someone to help, neighed in his loud, effervescent voice. "Pah you abyss! scared as damned!" Vasili Andreevich said to himself. But even having understood the true cause of fear, he could no longer disperse it.

"We need to think again, settle down," he said to himself, and at the same time he could not resist and kept driving the horse, not noticing that he was now riding with the wind, and not against it. His body, especially at a walk, where it was open and touched the saddle, shivered and ached, his arms and legs trembled, and his breathing was erratic. He sees that he is lost in this terrible snowy desert, and sees no means of salvation.

Suddenly the horse hooted somewhere under him and, stuck in a snowdrift, began to thrash and fall on its side. Vasily Andreevich jumped off it, pulling off to one side the harness on which his leg rested, and twisting the saddle on which he was holding on as he jumped off. As soon as Vasily Andreevich jumped off it, the horse managed, rushed forward, made a jump, then another, and, again neighing and dragging the rope and harness dragging behind it, disappeared from view, leaving Vasily

Andreich alone in a snowdrift. Vasily Andreevich rushed after her, but the snow was so deep and the coats on it were so heavy that, bogging down with each leg above the knee, he, after taking no more than twenty steps, was out of breath and stopped. "A grove, heaps, rent, a shop, taverns, an iron-covered house and a barn, an heir," he thought,

How will it all stay? What is it? It can't be!" - flashed through his head. And for some reason he remembered the Chernobyl plant swaying from the wind, which he had passed twice, and such horror came over him that he did not believe in the reality of what had happened to him. He thought: “Is this all a dream?” and he wanted to wake up, but there was nowhere to wake up. indeed a desert, the one in which he now remained alone, like that Chernobyl, waiting for inevitable, quick and senseless death.

"Queen of heaven, to the holy hierarch Father Nicholas, abstinence to the teacher" -

he remembered yesterday's prayers, and the image with a black face in a golden robe, and the candles that he sold to this image and which were immediately brought back to him and which he, slightly burned, hid in a box. And he began to ask this same Nicholas the Wonderworker to save him, promised him a prayer service and candles. But right away he clearly, undoubtedly understood that this face, the robe, the candles, the priest, the prayers - all this was very important and necessary there, in the church, but that here they could not do anything to him, that between these candles and prayers and there is not and cannot be any connection with his present disastrous situation. "We must not be discouraged," he thought.

came to his mind. - She will lead, and then I will catch. Just take your time, otherwise you will dawn and you will get worse. "But, despite the intention to go quietly, he rushed forward and ran, constantly falling, rising and falling again. The horse's track was already becoming slightly noticeable in those places where the snow was shallow,

"I'm lost," thought Vasily Andreevich, "I'll lose the trail, and I won't overtake the horse."

But at that very moment, looking ahead, he saw something black. This was

Mukhorty, and not only Mukhorty alone, but also a sleigh and shafts with a handkerchief. Mukhorty, with his harness and rope knocked to one side, was no longer standing on same place, but closer to the shafts and shook his head, which the interceding rein pulled him down.

It turned out that Vasily Andreevich got stuck in the same hollow in which they got stuck with Nikita, that the horse was carrying him back to the sledge, and that he jumped off it no more than fifty paces from where the sleigh was.

Having reached the sledge, Vassily Andreevich grabbed hold of it and stood motionless for a long time, trying to calm down and catch his breath. She was in Nikita's former place, but something was lying in the sleigh, already covered with snow, and Vasily Andreevich guessed that it was Nikita. Vasili Andreevich's fear was now completely gone, and if he was afraid of anything, it was only that terrible state of fear that he experienced on the horse, and especially when he was left alone in a snowdrift. It was necessary at all costs not to allow this fear to reach oneself, and in order not to allow it, one had to do something, to do something. And

therefore, the first thing he did was that, standing with his back to the wind, he loosened his fur coat. Then, as soon as he caught his breath a little, he shook the snow out of his boots, out of his left glove, the right one was hopelessly lost and must have been somewhere two-quarters under the snow; then again, tight and low, as he pulled himself up when he went out of the shop to buy bread brought from the carts by the peasants, he dragged on his sash and got ready for work. The first thing that presented itself to him was to free the horse's leg. Vasily Andreevich did this, and, releasing the reins, tied Mukhortoy again to the iron brace at the front to the old place and began to go behind the horse in order to straighten the harness, saddle and rope on it; but at that moment he saw that something stirred in the sleigh, and from under the snow with which it was covered, Nikita's head rose.

Obviously, with great effort, Nikita, who was already freezing, got up and sat down and, in a strange way, as if driving away flies, waving his hand in front of his nose. He waved his hand and said something, as it seemed to Vasili Andreevich, calling him. Basil

Andreich left the rope without adjusting it, and went up to the sleigh.

What are you? - He asked, - What are you talking about?

I remember-mi-peace, that's what, - with difficulty, in a broken voice, he uttered

Nikita. - Healed small give Ali Baba, all the same.

Well, al chilled? asked Vasily Andreevich.

I feel my death ... forgive me, for Christ's sake ... - said Nikita in a weeping voice, continuing, as if fanning flies, waving his hands in front of his face.

Vassily Andreevich stood silent and motionless for half a minute, then suddenly, with the same determination with which he struck his hands at a bargain, he took a step back, rolled up the sleeves of his fur coat, and with both hands began to shovel the snow from Nikita and from the sleigh. Having shoveled the snow, Vasily Andreevich hurriedly unbelted himself, straightened his fur coat, and, pushing Nikita, lay down on him, covering him not only with his fur coat, but with his whole warm, overheated body. Having tucked the skirts of the fur coat between the sledge and Nikita with his hands, and grabbing its hem with his knees, Vassily Andreevich lay prone, resting his head on the front of the sledge, and now he no longer heard either the movement of the horse or the whistle of the storm, but only listened to Nikita's breathing. At first Nikita lay motionless for a long time, then sighed loudly and stirred.

But something, and you say - you're dying. Lie down, warm yourself, we're like this ... -

Vasili Andreevich began.

But then, to his great surprise, he could not speak, because tears came into his eyes and his lower jaw quickly jumped. He stopped talking and only swallowed whatever came up to his throat. "I was terrified, evidently weakened altogether," he thought to himself. But this weakness of his, not only was not unpleasant to him, but gave him some kind of special joy, never experienced before.

"That's how we are," he said to himself, experiencing some special solemn emotion. For a long time he lay like that in silence, wiping his eyes on the fur of his fur coat and tucking under his knees the entire right half of his fur coat, which was wrapped in the wind.

But he so passionately wanted to tell someone about his joyful state.

Mikita! - he said.

Good, warm, - answered him from below.

So, brother, I was lost. And you would freeze, and I would...

But here again his cheekbones trembled, and his eyes again filled with tears, and he could no longer speak.

"Well, nothing," he thought. "I know about myself that I know."

And he shut up. So he lay for a long time.

He was warm from below from Nikita, warm from above from his fur coat; only the hands with which he held the skirts of the fur coat on Nikita's sides, and the legs from which the wind constantly rolled up the fur coat, began to feel chilly. Especially chilly right hand without a glove. But he did not think about his legs or arms, but thinking only about how to warm the man lying under him.

Several times he glanced at the horse and saw that its back was open and the rope with the harness was lying on the snow, that it was necessary to get up and cover the horse, but he could not decide for a minute to leave Nikita and disturb the joyful state in which he was . He no longer felt any fear.

"Probably won't get out," he said to himself about the fact that he would warm the peasant, with the same boastfulness with which he spoke about his purchases and sales.

So Vassily Andreevich lay for an hour, and another, and a third, but he did not see how the time passed. At first, in his imagination, the impressions of a blizzard, a shaft and a horse under an arc, shaking before his eyes, were carried, and he remembered

Nikita, lying under him; then memories of the holiday, the wife, the camp, candle box, and again about Nikita, who was lying under this box, began to be mixed in;

then peasants began to introduce themselves, selling and buying, and white walls, and houses covered with iron, under which Nikita lay; then it all mixed up, one entered into the other, and, like the colors of the rainbow, combining into one white light, all the different impressions converged into one nothingness, and he fell asleep. He slept for a long time, without dreams, but before dawn the dreams came again. It seemed to him that he was standing as if at a candle box and Tikhonov's woman was demanding a five-kopeck candle from him for the holiday, and he wanted to take a candle and give it to her, but his hands did not rise, but were squeezed in his pockets. He wants to go around the box, and his legs do not move, and the galoshes, new, cleaned, are rooted to the stone floor, and you cannot lift them and you cannot take them out. And suddenly the candle box becomes not a candle box, but a bed, and

Vasily Andreevich sees himself lying on his belly on a candle box, that is, on his bed, in his house. And he was lying on the bed and could not get up, but he had to get up, because Ivan Matveich, the policeman, would immediately come in after him, and with

Ivan Matveich must go either to trade in the grove, or to fix the helmet on

Mukhort. And he asks his wife: "Well, Mikolavna, didn't you come in?" - "Not, -

he says, “I didn’t come in.” And he hears that someone is driving up to the porch.

He must. No, by. "Mikolavna, but Mikolavna, well, is everything gone?" - "There is not".

And he lies on the bed and still cannot get up, and everything is waiting, and this expectation is both terrifying and joyful. And suddenly the joy is complete: the one he was waiting for arrives, and this is no longer Ivan Matveich, the guard, but someone else, but the very one he is waiting for. He came and calls him, and this one, the one who calls him, is the one who called him and told him to lie on Nikita. And Vasily Andreevich is glad that this someone has come for him. "Coming!" he shouts joyfully, and this cry wakes him up. And

he wakes up, but wakes up completely different from the way he fell asleep. He wants to get up - and he can't, he wants to move his hand - he can't, his foot - he can't either.

He wants to turn his head, but he can't. And he wonders; but he is not at all upset by this. He understands that this is death, and is not at all upset by this either. And he remembers that Nikita is lying under him and that he is warm and alive, and it seems to him that he is Nikita, and Nikita is he, and that his life is not in himself, but in Nikita. He strains his ears and hears breathing, even Nikita's faint snoring.

"I'm alive, Nikita, so I'm alive too," he says triumphantly to himself.

And he remembers about money, about a shop, a house, purchases, sales and millions

Mironovs; it is difficult for him to understand why this man, whose name was Vasily

Brekhunov, did everything he did. “Well, he didn’t know what the matter was,” he thinks about Vasily Brekhunov. “I didn’t know, but now I know.

Now there is no error. Now I know." And again he hears the call of the one who has already called out to him. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" - joyfully, tenderly says his whole being. And he feels that he is free and nothing is holding him anymore.

And I didn’t see anything anymore, and I didn’t hear, and I didn’t feel anything in this world

Vasily Andreevich.

Everything was still smoking all around. The same whirlwinds of snow were spinning, falling asleep fur coat dead Vasily Andreich, but the whole trembling Mukhorty, and the already barely visible sleigh, and in the depths of them, Nikita, already warmed up, lying under the dead owner.

Nikita woke up before morning. He was woken up by the cold that had begun to pierce his back again. He dreamed that he was driving from the mill with a cart of the master's flour and, crossing the stream, he took it past the bridge and tied the cart. And he sees that he crawled under the cart and lifts it, straightening his back. But an amazing thing! The wagon does not move and sticks to his back, and he can neither lift the wagon nor get out from under it. The entire lower back was crushed. Yes, and cold! Obviously, you need to get out.

"So be it," he says to someone who is crushing his back with a cart. "Take out the bags!" But the cart presses him colder and colder, and suddenly something special knocks, and he wakes up completely and remembers everything. A cold cart is a dead, frozen owner lying on it. And Mukhorty knocked it, hitting the sled twice with his hoof.

Andreich, and Andreich! - cautiously, already anticipating the truth, calls out

Nikita is the host, straining his back.

But Andreich does not respond, and his belly and legs are strong, and cold, and heavy, like weights.

"It's over, it should. The kingdom of heaven!" Nikita thinks.

He turns his head, digs the snow in front of him with his hand, and opens his eyes. Light; the wind whistles in the shafts in the same way, and the snow pours in the same way, with the only difference being that it no longer whips the sledge against the splint, but the sleigh and the horse silently fall asleep higher and higher, and neither the movement nor the breathing of the horse is heard anymore. "He must be frozen, too," Nikita thinks of Mukhortoy. And

indeed, those hoof-beats on the sled that woke Nikita were the dying efforts of Mukhortoy, who had already completely frozen, to stay on his feet.

“Lord, father, it’s clear that you are calling me,” Nikita says to himself. “Your holy will. It’s terrible.

Just hurry up...” And he again hides his hand, closing his eyes, and forgets himself, quite sure that now he is probably and completely dying.

Already at lunchtime the next day, the peasants dug up Vasily Andreevich and Nikita with shovels, thirty sazhens from the road and half a verst from the village.

The snow had covered the sledges, but the shafts and the scarf on them were still visible.

Mukhorty, up to his belly, in the snow, with a harness and rope strayed from his back, stood all white, pressing his dead head to his stiff Adam's apple; the nostrils were frozen with icicles, the eyes were frosty and also frozen over as if with tears. He lost weight in one night so that only bones and skin remained on him. Vasily Andreevich froze like a frozen carcass, and as his legs were spread apart, so, squatting, they rolled him off Nikita. His hawkish bulging eyes were frosted over, and his open mouth, under his clipped mustache, was clogged with snow.

Nikita was alive, although he was completely frostbitten. When Nikita was awakened, he was sure that now he had already died and that what was happening to him now was happening not in this world, but in the next world. But when he heard the screaming peasants digging him up and dumping Vasily Andreevich, stiffened, from him, he was at first surprised that in the other world the peasants and the same body were screaming in the same way, but when he realized that he was still here, in this world, he was rather upset. this, which made him happy, especially when he felt that his fingers on both legs were frostbitten.

Nikita lay in the hospital for two months. Three fingers were taken away from him, and the rest healed, so that he could work, and continued to live for another twenty years.

First in the workers, and then, in old age, in the guards. He died only this year at home, as he wished, under the saints and with a lit wax candle in his hands. Before his death, he asked for forgiveness from his old woman and forgave her for the cooper; he said goodbye to his little one and his grandchildren, and died, truly rejoicing that by his death he was saving his son and daughter-in-law from the burden of excess bread, and he himself was already truly moving from this bored life to that other life, which every year and hour became him everything is clearer and more tempting.

Better or worse for him where he is, after this real death, woke up?

Was he disappointed, or did he find there what he expected? - we'll all find out soon.

Leo Tolstoy - Master and worker, read text

The owner and employee summary. In the story "The Master and the Worker" the characteristic features of the artistic manner of the late Tolstoy are clearly manifested.

OWNER AND WORKER

I

II

"Master and Worker"

See also Leo Tolstoy - Prose (stories, poems, novels...):