What in Oblomov is more valuable than any mind. Stolz described Oblomov this way: “This is a crystal, transparent soul; such people are few; they are rare; these are pearls in the crowd.”

"There are practically no such heroes in modern cinema, now they are filming more about policemen, bandits, businessmen or best case scenario about models,” says actor Anatoly Bely, “On the Way to the Heart” is a film about a completely different hero of our time. About a man who did not change himself, no matter what, and with dignity survived all the vicissitudes of his fate. On such idealists and strong in spirit people and our land holds on. He is obsessed with the idea, it sits in him like a nail. I really wanted the image to be talented person, with a big dream in life, which he stubbornly strives to achieve and will definitely have to come someday.”

According to Maria Vardenga, “On the Way to the Heart” is a film about the intelligentsia, whose representatives are now practically never seen on television. However, they still remain in life. “This is a film about smart, accomplished men and a smart, accomplished woman. Their successes have nothing to do with business. In my opinion, the only sign of wealth is the ability to have your own outlook on life.”

A story of unfulfilled love

The main character is a woman who has been waiting for her fate for 10 years. When the producers asked the scriptwriter if she had seen such women in modern life, Masha replied that one of them is now sitting in front of them. "It was very important for me romantic look for love. A universal idealistic feeling of love, when a woman understands that this man is her destiny. When the heroine found her soul mate and they united, the integrity of the world was restored, and a discovery happened,” continues screenwriter Maria Vardenga. “I’m sure there are such people,” confirms Maria Poroshina, “U main character love is purely platonic and unrequited, and in our time this is probably a feat. But Yulia, first of all, is pure in her actions, she does not lie to herself."

At the turn of the era

The film takes place between 1981 and 2001. “This is a time of great change. Key period V modern history Russia, the era of breaking up the state machine and the destinies of millions of people. For me it was an attempt to compile some kind of “collection of life individuals", each character of which finds something of his own, close to him specifically. Many will see signs of history - from pioneers and party leaders, to psychics and the general transition to self-financing. I filmed these years with my attitude towards them, without feeling the desire to wax poetic or denigrate ; it was a different country, with its own status quo system, but all that was there." (director Abay Karpykov).

"The end of the 80s and 90s was a time of global choice, a reassessment of values. An era that unexpectedly befell my hero and greatly influenced his life. At the turn of the era, a person’s character is clearly revealed. Either he follows one path, choosing money, career, getting involved in the "gold rush" that swept the whole country. Or, like my hero, he remains true to his dream."(actor Anatoly Bely)

About the actors

The casting was not easy and lasted 4-5 months; the main thing, according to the filmmakers, was to create an ensemble of actors. The leading roles were played by wonderful actors Marat Basharov and Maria Poroshina, Anatoly Bely and Sergei Shakurov. “We rehearsed a lot, constantly came up with something together with our partners and the director. The team was wonderful, we understood each other perfectly, everyone’s eyes sparkled,” recalls Maria Poroshina

“It’s difficult to single out anyone, they’re all great guys.” At that time, Marat Basharov was filming an ice show on Channel One and came to our pavilion, tired from training, tracksuit, but always relieved the atmosphere on the set with his jokes,” recalls the film’s director Abai Karpykov.

Valentina Talyzina, Galina Polskikh, Sergei Astakhov, Vyacheslav Razbegaev and many other wonderful actors played small roles and episodes. "Dima Nagiyev played a small, but very bright role aging clown. For him, I think it's dramatic role- a fundamental change in image. He created a wonderful image; the fact that his hero was seriously ill was noticeable in his gait, his gaze, his smile filled with sadness and longing. Sveta Chuikina is a wonderful actress, absolutely perfect for the character. She played a provincial girl who came to conquer Moscow. Well, and, of course, Roman Madyanov. His hero went from a gynecologist in a provincial hospital to a false psychic charging water. And later he also mastered the financially advantageous role of a traffic cop" (director Abai Karpykov).

20 years on screen

The actors had a difficult task - to play their characters for 20 years of their lives. Of course, the makeup and costumes helped. But the main thing is that the actors are all quite flexible, because it was necessary to create images that initially included not only a change in appearance, but also in character. “My character has been living on the screen for two decades. It’s wildly interesting. You have to be able to show yourself as a reckless 20-year-old graduate of a medical university, and a 30-year-old man overcome by internal quests, and a man in his forties who has already achieved something certain. Make-up artists, of course they helped, they specially applied different shades of makeup for different years, a little gray hair at an older age. After all, we are a little smaller than the heroes at the end of the film, so we didn’t have to age us much. And in order to look like we were in our 20s, Marat and I were given rejuvenating apples"- jokes actor Anatoly Bely

“The time range was large - you had to play the character when you are airy and cheerful and tired, studied and lonely. Of course, stylists helped, who did different hairstyles and age-appropriate makeup. And our wonderful costume designers changed depending on age color scheme and styles of dresses,” adds Maria Poroshina

Filming a story over 20 years is quite difficult. During the filming of Moscow in the 80s we had to clean up with the help of computer graphics outdoor and illuminated advertising on streets and rooftops. When there were cars passing, they blocked the traffic so that only cars of that time would appear in the frame and modern foreign cars would not appear. And to create the atmosphere of those years, the film “On the Way to the Heart” used a special technology of interspersing documentary chronicles into the artistic narrative; the documentary footage was processed on a computer, subjected to color correction, and as a result, in the cinema they are no different from a modern picture.

“The 80s, not so distant, but still the past, so our cinema can rightfully be called historical. And the production designer, let’s say, had enough work,” notes Viktor Petrov. – A lot was filmed in the pavilions at Mosfilm - the professor’s apartment, operating rooms, hospital wards, the main character’s apartment, the prison. I had to collect great amount props. The work was incredible. They asked friends for something, rented something from hospitals. It is very important for me when interiors look organically in the frame. If it is not noticeable that this is scenery, if the atmosphere is created, then the work was a success!”

The costume designer also had to work hard - many dresses and suits were made to order. They even made medical gowns 80s, as they have changed a lot since then

Provincial city it was easier to photograph - already 100 km from Moscow everything was preserved almost unchanged. " Russian province we filmed in Torzhok and in the scenery at Mosfilm. The winter was warm, and we waited a very long time for the scenery at Mosfilm to be covered with snow,” recalls director Abai Karpykov.

How to hold a scalpel

The actors playing the roles of heart surgeons had a lot to learn. “We inevitably come across doctors in life, including surgeons. In addition, I once had the opportunity to take part in a documentary project about a famous surgeon, and I was in the operating room, watching the doctors’ hands and how they did it,” - says Sergei Shakurov.

“We had a consultant work on the project - Doctor of Science, a practicing surgeon. He said that for authenticity in the frame during the operation, the scalpel must be held so that there is a minimum of movements. All movements during the operation are for something, and not just for the sake of it "You need to turn your hand very succinctly, cut it in one movement, and pass the tools in a split second," adds Anatoly Bely.

There are people who are attracted to my inner normalcy. There are very few such people, but they exist. Each such person and I are like two planets that float in dark space towards each other, drawn by some very natural force, approach each other and also naturally fly apart, each in its own orbit. These people come to me, enter into relationships with me - only to one day disappear from my life forever. They become mine best friends, mistresses, and even wives. Some even manage to become my antipodes. But no matter how things work out, the day comes and they leave me. Some - disappointed, some - despair, some - without saying a word (like a tap without water - even if you turn it off, you won’t get a single drop) - they all disappear.

Don't judge or be offended by people. No matter what they do to you, don't hate anyone. Everyone acts according to what he is taught and what character he has. Not many have kindness and reasoning.

Love what you have, don't wait perfect moment, try to live every day to the fullest, do not lose heart, no matter how difficult it is, believe in the future - this is happiness.

Money cannot change people, it can only help them become who they really are.

People are like wine - if they get better over the years, then they are of very high quality.

When one day is like the next, people stop noticing the good things that happen in their lives every day after sunrise.

And they sit with their backs to each other, each believing that they have won, not realizing that they both lost.

Treat everyone with kindness and respect, even those who are rude to you. Not because they worthy people, but because you are a worthy person.

It is difficult for me to say why I like or admire certain people, but I can say for sure that the people I love have one thing in common - they know how to make me smile from the bottom of their hearts.

Just remember what happened a year ago and what is now. How many people do you not communicate with now, although they swore to be with you until the end: they don’t write now, they have more important people. And you forget, and let go, but don’t forget those who are still with you, who believe in you, no matter what the circumstances and no matter how life changes you.

–– Do you want me to tell you why he is dear to you, why you love him?

She nodded her head in agreement.

– For what is more valuable in him than any mind: an honest, faithful heart! This is his natural gold; he carried it through life unharmed. He fell from the tremors, cooled down, fell asleep, finally, killed, disappointed, having lost the strength to live, but did not lose honesty and loyalty.

None false note his heart did not make noise, no dirt stuck to it. No elegant lie will seduce him, and nothing will lure him onto a false path; let a whole ocean of rubbish and evil swirl around him, let the whole world be poisoned with poison and go topsy-turvy - Oblomov will never bow to the idol of lies, his soul will always be pure, bright, honest...

This is crystal transparent soul; there are few such people; they are rare; These are pearls in the crowd! Nothing can bribe his heart; you can rely on him anywhere and everywhere. This is what you have remained faithful to and why taking care of him will never be difficult for me.

I knew many people from high qualities, but I have never met a purer, brighter and simpler heart; I loved many, but no one as firmly and ardently as Oblomov.

Once you know him, you can’t stop loving him. Is that so? Did you guess right?

Olga was silent, looking down at her work. Andrey thought about it.
– Isn’t everything here? What else? Ah!.. – having woken up, he added cheerfully later. –– I completely forgot “dove tenderness”...

Olga laughed, quickly left her sewing, ran up to Andrey, threw her arms around his neck, looked directly into his eyes with radiant eyes for several minutes, then fell into thought, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder.

In her memory, Oblomov’s meek, thoughtful face was resurrected, his gentle gaze, humility, then his smile, with which he responded to her reproach during separation... and she felt so hurt, so sorry for him...

Stolz went straight to the goal, that is, to Olga.

And what about Olga? Was she oblivious to his situation or was she insensitive to him?

She could not help but notice this: and not such subtle women as she know how to distinguish friendly devotion and pleasing from the tender manifestation of another feeling. Coquetry cannot be allowed in her due to a correct understanding of true, unhypocritical morality, not inspired by anyone. She was above this vulgar weakness.

All that remains is to assume that she liked it, without any practical types, this is the continuous worship of a person like Stolz, filled with MIND and PASSION. Of course, she liked it: this worship restored her offended pride and little by little put her back on the pedestal from which she had fallen; little by little her pride was restored.

But how did she think: how should this worship be resolved? It cannot always be expressed in this eternal struggle between Stolz’s inquisitiveness and its stubborn silence. At least, did she have a presentiment that all this struggle of his was not in vain, that he would win the case into which he had put so much will and character? Is he wasting this flame and shine in vain? Will the image of Oblomov and that TRUE love drown in the rays of this brilliance?..

She didn’t understand any of this, didn’t recognize it clearly, and struggled desperately with these questions, with herself, and didn’t know how to get out of the chaos.

What should she do? It is impossible to remain in an indecisive position: someday from this silent game and the struggle of feelings locked in the chest it will come to words - what will she answer about the past! What will he call him and what will he call what he feels for Stolz?

If she loves Stolz, what was THAT love? –– coquetry, frivolity or worse? She felt hot and flushed with shame at this thought. She will not bring such an accusation upon herself.

If it was the first, pure love, what is her relationship to Stolz? Again a game, a deception, a subtle calculation to lure him into marriage and thereby cover up the frivolity of his behavior?.. She was thrown into the cold, and she turned pale at the very thought.

And not a game, not deception, not calculation - so... love again?
She was at a loss from this assumption: second love – seven, eight months after the first! Who will believe her? How will she mention her without causing amazement, maybe... contempt! She doesn’t even dare to think, she has no right!

She rummaged through her experience: no information was found there about her second love. I remembered the authorities of aunts, old maids, various clever women, and finally writers, “thinkers about love” - from all sides I heard an inexorable sentence: “A woman truly loves only once.” And Oblomov pronounced his sentence like this. I remembered Sonechka, how she would respond to a second love, but I heard from visitors from Russia that her friend had moved on to a third...

No, she doesn’t have love for Stolz, she decided, and it can’t be! She loved Oblomov, and this love didn’t suck! She has only friendship for Stolz, based on his brilliant qualities, then on his friendship for her, on attention, on trust.

Now I know for sure: they love not “for their brilliant qualities,” but simply because their heart is filled to the brim with tenderness.
Only MARRIAGE is created on respect and friendship, on passion and trust – a false, invented “happiness”.
And in marriage there is no place for Truth, Love and Beauty. And HAPPINESS is possible only where two hearts are connected by True TENDERNESS and the Rainbow of Living Love and Beauty.))

Other articles in the literary diary:

09/29/2013. What if it works?
09/28/2013. Gibraltar-Labrador
09/27/2013. Diamond roads
09/26/2013. It's elementary, Watson!
09.25.2013. Do you love me?
09/23/2013. Sic transit gloria mundi!
09.22.2013. Comrade Bender! Where are you going?
09.21.2013. The magical power of the arts!
09.20.2013. Is there life on the march?
09/19/2013. If you don't have an aunt...
09/18/2013. Simply Maria
09.17.2013. Waltz for Maria
09/16/2013. Love for three oranges
09.15.2013. Red sun
09.14.2013. Mary Poppins, goodbye! Lullaby for Tanya
09.13.2013. Introduction to Science
12.09.2013. But happiness is still possible
11.09.2013.

Don't you still love him? - Andrei asked jokingly.

No! - Olga said not jokingly, thoughtfully, as if looking into the past. - I don’t love him the same, but there is something that I love in him, to which I seem to have remained faithful and will not change, like others...

Who are the others? Tell me, poisonous snake, bite, sting: am I, or what? You're wrong. And if you want to know the truth, I taught you to love him and almost brought him to goodness. Without me, you would have walked past him without noticing. I let you understand that he has no less intelligence than others, only he is buried, crushed by all sorts of rubbish and fell asleep in idleness. Do you want me to tell you why he is dear to you, why you still love him?

She nodded her head in agreement.

For what is more valuable in him than any mind: an honest, faithful heart! This is his natural gold, he carried it through life unharmed. He fell from the tremors, cooled down, fell asleep, finally, killed, disappointed, having lost the strength to live, but did not lose honesty and loyalty. His heart did not emit a single false note, nor did any dirt stick to it. No elegant lie will seduce him, and nothing will lure him onto a false path, let a whole ocean of rubbish, evil swirl around him, let the whole world be poisoned with poison and go topsy-turvy - Oblomov will never bow to the idol of lies, his soul will always be pure, bright, honestly... This is a crystal, transparent soul, such people are few, they are rare, they are pearls in the crowd! You can’t bribe his heart with anything; you can rely on him anywhere and everywhere. This is what you have remained faithful to and why taking care of him will never be difficult for me. I knew many people with high qualities, but I never met a purer, brighter and simpler heart, I loved many, but no one as firmly and ardently as Oblomov. Once you know him, you can’t stop loving him. Is that so? Did you guess right?

Olga was silent, looking down at her work. Andrey thought about it.

Isn't everyone here? What else? Ah!.. - having woken up, he added cheerfully later. - I completely forgot “dove tenderness”...

Olga laughed, quickly left her sewing, ran up to Andrei, threw her arms around his neck, looked directly into his eyes with radiant eyes for several minutes, then fell into thought, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder. In her memory, Oblomov’s meek, thoughtful face was resurrected, his tender gaze, humility, then his pitiful, bashful smile, with which he responded to her reproach during separation... and she felt so hurt, so sorry for him...

You won't leave him, won't you abandon him? - she said, without taking her hands away from her husband’s neck.

Never! Will some kind of abyss suddenly open up between us, a wall will rise...

She kissed her husband.

In St. Petersburg will you take me to see him?

He remained hesitantly silent.

Yes? Yes? - she insistently demanded an answer.

Listen, Olga,” he said, trying to free his neck from the ring of her hands, “first you need to...

No, say: yes, promise, I won’t leave you behind!

“Perhaps,” he answered, “but not the first time, but the second time: I know what will happen to you if he...

Don’t talk, don’t talk!.. - she interrupted. - Yes, you take me: together we will do everything. You won’t be able to do it alone, you won’t want to!

Let it be so, but you will be upset, and perhaps for a long time,” he said, not entirely happy that Olga forced his consent.

Remember,” she concluded, sitting down in her place, “that you will retreat only when “an abyss opens or a wall rises between him and you.” I won't forget these words.

Peace and silence rest over the Vyborg side, over its unpaved streets, wooden sidewalks, over meager gardens, over ditches overgrown with nettles, where under the fence some goat, with a torn rope around its neck, diligently nibbles the grass or dozes dully, and at noon they will knock dandy, high heels a clerk passing along the sidewalk, the muslin curtain in the window will move and an official will look out from behind the bushes, or suddenly over the fence, in the garden, she will instantly jump out and at that very moment hide fresh face girls, after him another similar face will jump out and also disappear, then the first one will appear again and be replaced by the second, the squealing and laughter of the girls swinging on the swings is heard.

Everything is quiet in Pshenitsyna’s house. You will enter the courtyard and be enveloped in a living idyll: chickens and roosters will fuss and run to hide in the corners, the dog will begin to jump on a chain, bursting into barking, Akulina will stop milking the cow, and the janitor will stop chopping wood, and both will look at the visitor with curiosity.

Who do you want? - he will ask and, hearing the name of Ilya Ilyich or the mistress of the house, silently indicate the porch and begin to chop wood again, and the visitor will go along a clean, sand-strewn path to the porch, on the steps of which a simple, clean rug is laid, and pulls the copper, brightly cleaned handle ring a bell, and the door will be opened by Anisya, the children, sometimes the hostess herself, or Zakhar - Zakhar after all.

Everything in Pshenitsyna’s house breathed with such abundance and completeness of economy as had never happened before, when Agafya Matveevna lived in the same house with her brother.

The kitchen, closets, buffet - everything was installed by the suppliers with dishes, large and small, round and oval dishes, gravy boats, cups, piles of plates, cast iron, copper and clay pots.

Arranged in the cabinets were Oblomov’s and his own silver, bought back a long time ago and now never pawned.

Whole rows of huge, pot-bellied and miniature teapots and several rows of porcelain cups, simple, with paintings, with gilding, with mottos, with flaming hearts, with Chinese. Large glass jars with coffee, cinnamon, vanilla, crystal teapots, containers with oil, with vinegar.

Then whole shelves were cluttered with packs, bottles, boxes with home medicines, with herbs, lotions, plasters, alcohols, camphor, with powders, with incense, there was soap, potions for cleaning lace, removing stains, etc., etc. - everything , which you will find in any house of any province, with any housewife.

When Agafya Matveevna suddenly opens the door of the closet filled with all these accessories, she herself cannot resist the bouquet of all the narcotic smells and at first turns her face away for a minute.

In the pantry, hams were hung from the ceiling so that mice would not spoil them, cheeses, loaves of sugar, hanging fish, bags of dried mushrooms, and nuts bought from a Chukhon.

On the floor there were tubs of butter, large covered pots of sour cream, baskets of eggs - and something was missing! It takes the pen of another Homer to count in completeness and detail everything that was accumulated in all the corners, on all the shelves of this little ark of home life.

The kitchen was a true palladium of the work of the great housewife and her worthy assistant, Anisya. Everything was in the house and everything was at hand, in its place, everything was orderly and clean, one could say, if there had not been one corner in the whole house, where neither a ray of light nor a stream had ever penetrated fresh air, neither the mistress’s eye, nor Anisya’s nimble, all-sweeping hand. This is Zakhar's corner or nest.

His room had no window, and the eternal darkness contributed to the construction of a dark hole out of human habitation. If Zakhar sometimes found the landlady there with some plans for improvements and cleansing, he firmly announced that it was not a woman’s business to sort out where and how brushes, polish and boots should be stored, that no one cared about why his dress was in the in a heap on the floor, and the bed is in the corner behind the stove, covered in dust, that he wears a dress and sleeps on this bed, not she. As for the broom, boards, two bricks, the bottom of a barrel and two logs, which he keeps in his room, he cannot do without them in the household, and why - he did not explain, further, that dust and spiders do not bother him and , in a word, that he doesn’t stick his nose into their kitchen, and therefore doesn’t want to be touched either.

He showered Anisya, whom he once found there, with such contempt and shook his elbow so seriously in the chest that she was afraid to look at him. When the matter was transferred to a higher authority, at the discretion of Ilya Ilyich, the master went to inspect and deal with it properly, more strictly, but, sticking one head into Zakhar’s door and looking for a minute at everything that was there, he only spat and did not say not a word.

What, did you take it? - Zakhar said to Agafya Matveevna and Anisye, who came with Ilya Ilyich, hoping that his participation would lead to some kind of change. Then he grinned in his own way, all over his face, so that his eyebrows and sideburns moved to the sides.

In the other rooms, everything was light, clean and fresh. The old, faded curtains disappeared, and the windows and doors of the living room and study were overshadowed with blue and green draperies and muslin curtains with red scallops - all the work of Agafya Matveevna.

The pillows were white as snow and rose like a mountain almost to the ceiling, the blankets were silk and quilted.

For whole weeks, the hostess’s room was cluttered with several card tables spread out and placed one next to the other, on which these blankets and Ilya Ilyich’s robe were spread.

Agafya Matveevna cut them out with her own hands, lined them with cotton wool and quilted them, falling to the work with her strong chest, digging into it with her eyes, even with her mouth when she had to bite off the thread, and worked with love, with tireless diligence, modestly rewarding herself with the thought that the robe and blankets will clothe, warm, undead and give rest to the magnificent Ilya Ilyich.

He spent whole days, lying on his sofa, admiring how her bare elbows moved back and forth, following the needle and thread. More than once he dozed off to the hiss of thread being threaded and the crack of thread being bitten off, as happened in Oblomovka.

Stop working, you'll get tired! - he calmed her down.

God loves work! - she answered, without taking her eyes and hands away from her work.

The coffee was served to him just as carefully, cleanly and deliciously as at first, when he moved into this apartment several years ago. Soup with giblets, pasta with Parmesan, kulebyaka, botvinya, their own chickens - all this was replaced in a strict line by one another and pleasantly diversified the monotonous days of the small house.

A joyful ray of sun beat through the windows from morning to evening, half a day on one side, half a day on the other, unobstructed by anything thanks to vegetable gardens on both sides.

The canaries chirped merrily, the eranium and sometimes the hyacinths brought by the children from the count's garden emitted a strong smell in the small room, pleasantly mixed with the smoke of a clean Havana cigar and cinnamon or vanilla, which the hostess pounded, energetically moving her elbows.

Ilya Ilyich lived as if in a golden frame of life, in which, as if in a diorama, only the usual phases of day and night and seasons changed; there were no other changes, especially major accidents that disturb the entire sediment from the bottom of life, often bitter and muddy.

Since Stolz rescued Oblomovka from his brother’s thieves’ debts, as the brother and Tarantyev left completely, everything hostile from Ilya Ilyich’s life also disappeared with them. He was now surrounded by such simple, kind, loving faces, who all agreed to support his life with their existence, to help him not notice it, not feel it.

Agafya Matveevna was at the zenith of her life, she lived and felt that she lived fully, as she had never lived before, but she could never express it, as before, or, better yet, it never occurred to her. She only prayed to God to extend Ilya Ilyich’s life and to deliver him from all “sorrow, anger and need,” and she surrendered herself, her children and the whole house to God’s will. But her face constantly expressed the same happiness, complete, satisfied and without desires, therefore rare and impossible with any other nature.

Ordinary readers, they themselves know this.

Yes, these are funny people, like Rakhmetov, very funny. It’s for them that I say that they are funny, I say it because I feel sorry for them; I say this for those noble people who are fascinated by them: do not follow them, noble people, I say, because the path to which they call you is poor in personal joys: but noble people do not listen to me and say: no, it is not poor, it is very rich, and even if it were poor in another place, it is not long, We will have the strength to go through this place, to reach endless places rich in joy. So you see, insightful reader, I am not saying this for you, but for another part of the public, that people like Rakhmetov are ridiculous. And to you, astute reader, I will tell you that these are not bad people; otherwise you probably won’t understand it yourself; yes, not bad people. There are few of them, but with them the life of all flourishes; without them it would have stalled, gone sour; There are few of them, but they allow all people to breathe, without them people would suffocate. There are a great number of honest and good people, and there are few such people; but they are in it - theine in tea, the bouquet in noble wine; from them its strength and aroma; this is the color the best people, these are the engines of the engines, this is the salt of the earth (121).

“Well,” the astute reader thinks, now Rakhmetov will be the main person and will outshine everyone, and Vera Pavlovna will fall in love with him, and soon the same story will begin with Kirsanov as it was with Lopukhov.” None of this will happen, discerning reader; Rakhmetov will spend the evening talking with Vera Pavlovna; I will not hide a word from you from their conversation, and you will soon see that if I did not want to convey this conversation to you, then it would be very easy not to convey it, and the course of events in my story would not have changed at all because of this silence , and I’m telling you in advance that when Rakhmetov, after talking with Vera Pavlovna, leaves, he will completely leave this story, and that he will be neither the main nor the non-main, not at all actor in my novel. Why is it included in the novel and described in such detail? Try it, astute reader, can you guess it? And this will be told to you on the following pages, immediately after Rakhmetov’s conversation with Vera Pavlovna; as soon as he leaves, I’ll tell you this at the end of the chapter, guess now what will be said there: it’s not difficult to guess if you have even the slightest idea about artistry, which you love to talk about so much - but where are you going! Well, I’ll tell you more than half the answer: Rakhmetov was bred to fulfill the most important, most fundamental requirement of artistry, solely to satisfy it; well, well, guess now, at least now guess what this demand is, and what had to be done to satisfy it, and how it is satisfied through the fact that the figure of Rakhmetov is shown to you, remaining without any influence and participation in the course of the story ; Well, guess what. The reader and the simple reader, who do not talk about artistry, they know this, but try to guess, sage. This is why time is given to you, and, in fact, this is why a long and thick line is placed between the lines: see how I care about you. Stop and think about it and see if you can guess it.

Mertsalova arrived, pushed, consoled, said that she would happily start working on the workshop, she didn’t know if she could, and again she began to push and console, helping in dismantling things. Rakhmetov, asking the neighbor’s maid to go to the bakery, put the samovar on, served it, and began to drink tea; Rakhmetov sat with the ladies for half an hour, drank five glasses of tea, and with them