Write down all possible phrases and determine the type of subordinating connection: The next day she began to carry out her plan and sent. Pushkin Alexander Sergeevich Svetlana Guruleva, g

Note: This work is part of the cycle “The Tale of the Late Ivan Petrovich Belkin,” consisting of 5 stories and published by A.S. Pushkin without indicating his authorship.

Peasant young lady

In one of our remote provinces there was an estate of Ivan Petrovich Berestov. In his youth he served in the guard, retired at the beginning of 1797, went to his village and since then he has not left there. He was married to a poor noblewoman who died in childbirth while he was away in the field. Household exercises soon consoled him. He built a house according to his own plan, started a cloth factory, established an income and began to consider himself the smartest man in the entire neighborhood, which his neighbors, who came to visit him with their families and dogs, did not contradict him about. On weekdays he wore a corduroy jacket, on holidays he put on a frock coat made of homemade cloth; I wrote down the expenses myself and read nothing except the Senate Gazette. In general, he was loved, although he was considered proud. Only Grigory Ivanovich Muromsky, his closest neighbor, did not get along with him. This was a real Russian gentleman. Having squandered most of his estate in Moscow, and at that time widowed, he left for his last village, where he continued to play pranks, but in a new way. He planted an English garden, on which he spent almost all his other income. His grooms were dressed as English jockeys. His daughter had an English madam. He cultivated his fields according to the English method:

But Russian bread will not be born in someone else’s way,

and despite a significant reduction in expenses, Grigory Ivanovich’s income did not increase; Even in the village he found a way to enter into new debts; With all that, he was considered a not stupid person, for he was the first of the landowners of his province to think of mortgaging his estate in the Guardian Council: a turn that seemed at that time extremely complex and bold. Of the people who condemned him, Berestov responded most severely. Hatred of innovation was a distinctive feature of his character. He could not speak indifferently about his neighbor's Anglomania, and every minute he found an opportunity to criticize him. Did he show the guest his possessions in response to praise for his economic management: “Yes, sir!” he spoke with a sly smile; “My situation is different from that of my neighbor Grigory Ivanovich. Where can we go broke in English! If only we were at least full in Russian.” These and similar jokes, due to the diligence of the neighbors, were brought to the attention of Grigory Ivanovich with additions and explanations. The Angloman endured criticism as impatiently as our journalists. He was furious and called his zoil a provincial bear.

Such were the relations between these two owners, how Berestov’s son came to his village. He was brought up at the *** University and intended to enter military service, but his father did not agree to this. The young man felt completely incapable of civil service. They were not inferior to each other, and young Alexey began to live for the time being as a master, growing a mustache just in case.

Alexey was, in fact, a great guy. It would really be a pity if his slender figure was never pulled together by a military uniform, and if, instead of showing off on a horse, he spent his youth bent over office papers. Seeing how he always galloped first when hunting, without making out the way, the neighbors agreed that he would never make a good chief executive. The young ladies glanced at him, and others looked at him; but Alexey did little with them, and they believed that the reason for his insensitivity was a love affair. In fact, a list was circulating from hand to hand from the address of one of his letters: Akulina Petrovna Kurochkina, in Moscow, opposite the Alekseevsky Monastery, in the house of coppersmith Savelyev, and I humbly ask you to deliver this letter to A.N.R.

Those of my readers who have not lived in villages cannot imagine what a charm these county young ladies are! Brought up in the clean air, in the shade of their garden apple trees, they draw knowledge of light and life from books. Solitude, freedom and reading early develop in them feelings and passions unknown to our absent-minded beauties. For a young lady, the ringing of a bell is already an adventure, a trip to a nearby city is considered an era in life, and a visit to a guest leaves a long, sometimes eternal memory. Of course, everyone is free to laugh at some of their oddities; but the jokes of a superficial observer cannot destroy their essential merits, of which the main thing is character trait, originality(individualit?), without which, according to Jean-Paul, human greatness does not exist. In the capitals, women receive perhaps a better education; but the skill of light soon softens the character and makes souls as monotonous as hats. Let this be said not in court, and not in condemnation, but nota nostra manet, as one old commentator writes.

It is easy to imagine what impression Alexey must have made among our young ladies. He was the first to appear before them, gloomy and disappointed, the first to tell them about lost joys and about his faded youth; Moreover, he wore a black ring with the image of a death's head. All this was extremely new in that province. The young ladies went crazy for him.

But the most preoccupied with him was my Anglomaniac’s daughter, Lisa (or Betsy, as Grigory Ivanovich usually called her). The fathers did not visit each other, she had not yet seen Alexei, while all the young neighbors talked only about him. She was seventeen years old. Her dark eyes enlivened her dark and very pleasant face. She was the only and therefore spoiled child. Her agility and minute-by-minute pranks delighted her father and drove her Madame Miss Jackson, a forty-year-old prim girl, into despair, who bleached her hair and raised her eyebrows, re-read Pamela twice a year, received two thousand rubles for it, and died of boredom in this barbaric Russia.

Nastya followed Liza; she was older, but just as flighty as her young lady. Lisa loved her very much, revealed all her secrets to her, and thought over her ideas with her; in a word, Nastya was a much more significant person in the village of Priluchina than any confidante in the French tragedy.

Let me go visit today,” Nastya said one day, dressing the young lady.

Please; And where to?

To Tugilovo, to the Berestovs. The cook's wife is their birthday girl and yesterday she came to invite us to dinner.

Here! - said Lisa, - the gentlemen are in a quarrel, and the servants treat each other.

What do we care about gentlemen! - Nastya objected; - besides, I’m yours, not daddy’s. You haven’t quarreled with young Berestov yet; and let the old people fight if it’s fun for them.

Try, Nastya, to see Alexei Berestov, and tell me thoroughly what he is like and what kind of person he is.

Nastya promised, and Lisa eagerly awaited her return all day. In the evening Nastya appeared.

Well, Lizaveta Grigorievna,” she said, entering the room, “saw young Berestov; I've seen enough; We were together all day.

Like this? Tell me, tell me in order.

If you please, let's go, me, Anisya Egorovna, Nenila, Dunka...

Okay, I know. Well then?

Let me tell you everything in order. We arrived just before lunch. The room was full of people. There were the Kolbinskys, the Zakharyevskys, the clerk with her daughters, the Khlupinskys...

Well! and Berestov?

Wait, sir. So we sat down at the table, the clerk was in first place, I was next to her... and the daughters were sulking, but I don’t care about them...

Oh, Nastya, how boring you are with your eternal details!

How impatient you are! Well, we left the table... and we sat for three hours, and the dinner was delicious; a blanc-mange cake blue, red and striped... So we left the table and went into the garden to play burners, and the young master appeared here.

Well? Is it true that he is so good-looking?

Surprisingly good, handsome, one might say. Slender, tall, blush all over his cheek...

Right? And I thought that his face was pale. What? What did he look like to you? Sad, thoughtful?

What do you? I've never seen such a madman in my entire life. He decided to run with us into the burners.

Run into the burners with you! Impossible!

Very possible! What else did you come up with! He'll catch you and kiss you!

It's your choice, Nastya, you're lying.

It's your choice, I'm not lying. I got rid of him by force. He spent the whole day with us like that.

But how do they say, he’s in love and doesn’t look at anyone?

I don’t know, sir, but he looked at me too much, and at Tanya, the clerk’s daughter, too; and even Pasha Kolbinskaya, it’s a shame to say, he didn’t offend anyone, he’s such a spoiler!

It is amazing! What do you hear about him in the house?

The master, they say, is wonderful: so kind, so cheerful. One thing is not good: he likes to chase girls too much. Yes, for me, this is not a problem: it will settle down over time.

How I would like to see him! - Lisa said with a sigh.

What's so clever about that? Tugilovo is not far from us, only three miles: go for a walk in that direction or ride on horseback; you will surely meet him. Every day, early in the morning, he goes hunting with a gun.

No, it's not good. He might think I'm chasing him. Besides, our fathers are in a quarrel, so I still won’t be able to meet him... Oh, Nastya! Do you know what? I'll dress up as a peasant girl!

And indeed; put on a thick shirt, a sundress, and go boldly to Tugilovo; I guarantee you that Berestov will not miss you.

And I can speak the local language perfectly well. Oh, Nastya, dear Nastya! What a wonderful idea! - And Lisa went to bed with the intention of certainly fulfilling her cheerful assumption.

The next day she began to carry out her plan, sent to buy thick linen, blue Chinese clothes and copper buttons at the market, with Nastya’s help she cut herself a shirt and a sundress, set the whole girl’s room to sewing, and by evening everything was ready. Lisa tried on the new look and admitted in front of the mirror that she had never seemed so cute to herself. She repeated her role, bowed low as she walked and then shook her head several times, like clay cats, spoke in a peasant dialect, laughed, covering herself with her sleeve, and earned Nastya’s complete approval. One thing made it difficult for her: she tried to walk across the yard barefoot, but the turf pricked her tender feet, and the sand and pebbles seemed unbearable to her. Nastya helped her here too: she took the measurement of Liza’s leg, ran to the field to Trofim the shepherd and ordered him a pair of bast shoes according to that measurement. The next day, before dawn, Lisa had already woken up. The whole house was still asleep. Nastya was waiting for the shepherd outside the gate. The horn began to play and the village herd pulled past the manor's yard. Trofim, passing in front of Nastya, gave her small colorful bast shoes and received half a ruble from her as a reward. Lisa quietly dressed up as a peasant, gave Nastya her instructions regarding Miss Jackson in a whisper, went out onto the back porch and ran through the garden into the field.

The dawn shone in the east, and the golden rows of clouds seemed to be waiting for the sun, like courtiers waiting for a sovereign; the clear sky, morning freshness, dew, breeze and birdsong filled Lisa's heart with infantile gaiety; afraid of some familiar meeting, she seemed not to walk, but to fly. Approaching the grove standing on the border of her father's property, Lisa walked more quietly. Here she was supposed to wait for Alexei. Her heart was beating strongly, without knowing why; but the fear that accompanies our young pranks is also their main charm. Lisa entered the darkness of the grove. A dull, rolling noise greeted the girl. Her gaiety died down. Little by little she indulged in sweet reverie. She thought... but is it possible to accurately determine what a seventeen-year-old young lady is thinking about, alone, in a grove, at six o’clock on a spring morning? And so she walked, lost in thought, along the road, shaded on both sides by tall trees, when suddenly a beautiful kicking dog barked at her. Lisa got scared and screamed. At the same time, a voice was heard: tout beau, Sbogar, ici... and a young hunter appeared from behind the bushes. “I suppose, honey,” he said to Lisa, “my dog ​​doesn’t bite.” Lisa had already recovered from her fright and knew how to immediately take advantage of the circumstances. “No, master,” she said, pretending to be half-frightened, half-shy, “I’m afraid: she’s so angry, you see; will rush again.” Alexey (the reader already recognized him) meanwhile was looking intently at the young peasant woman. “I will accompany you if you are afraid,” he told her; “Will you let me walk beside you?” - “Who’s stopping you?” Lisa answered; “To the free will, but the road is worldly.” - "Where are you from?" - “From Priluchin; I’m the daughter of Vasily the blacksmith, I’m going mushroom hunting” (Lisa was carrying the box on a string). “And you, master? Tugilovsky, or what?” “That’s right,” answered Alexey, “I am the young master’s valet.” Alexey wanted to level out their relationship. But Lisa looked at him and laughed. “You’re lying,” she said, “you’re not attacking a fool.” I see that you are a master yourself.” - “Why do you think so?” - “Yes, on everything.” - “However?” - “How can you not recognize the master and servant? And you’re dressed differently, and you act differently, and you don’t call the dog after us.” Alexey liked Liza more and more from hour to hour. Accustomed to not standing on ceremony with pretty village girls, he wanted to hug her; but Liza jumped away from him and suddenly assumed such a stern and cold look that although this made Alexei laugh, it kept him from further attempts. “If you want us to be friends in the future,” she said with importance, “then please don’t forget yourself.” - “Who taught you this wisdom?” Alexey asked, laughing: “Isn’t Nastinka, my friend, your young lady’s girlfriend? This is how enlightenment spreads!” Lisa felt that she was out of her role, and immediately recovered. “What do you think?” she said; “Don’t I ever go to the master’s courtyard? I suppose: I’ve heard and seen enough of everything. However,” she continued, “chatting with you, you can’t pick up mushrooms. Go one way, master, and I’ll go the other way. We ask for forgiveness...” Lisa wanted to leave, Alexey held her hand. “What is your name, my soul.” - “Akulina,” answered Lisa, trying to free her fingers from Alekseeva’s hand; “Let me go, master; It’s time for me to go home.” - “Well, my friend Akulina, I will certainly visit your father, Vasily the blacksmith.” - "What you?" Liza objected with liveliness, “For Christ’s sake, don’t come. If at home they find out that I chatted alone with the master in the grove, then I will be in trouble; my father, Vasily the blacksmith, will beat me to death.” - “Yes, I definitely want to see you again.” - “Well, someday I’ll come here again for mushrooms.” - “When?” - “Yes, even tomorrow.” - “Dear Akulina, I would kiss you, but I don’t dare. So tomorrow, at this time, isn’t it?” - "Yes Yes". - “And you won’t deceive me?” - “I won’t deceive you.” - “Swear to me.” - “Well, it’s Holy Friday, I’ll come.”

The young people separated. Lisa came out of the forest, crossed the field, crept into the garden and ran headlong to the farm, where Nastya was waiting for her. There she changed clothes, absentmindedly answering the questions of her impatient confidante, and appeared in the living room. The table was set, breakfast was ready, and Miss Jackson, already whitened and drinking, was cutting thin tartines. Her father praised her for her early walk. “There is nothing healthier,” he said, “than waking up at dawn.” Here he gave several examples of human longevity, drawn from English magazines, noting that all people who lived more than a hundred years did not drink vodka and got up at dawn in winter and summer. Lisa didn't listen to him. In her mind she repeated all the circumstances of the morning meeting, Akulina’s entire conversation with the young hunter, and her conscience began to torment her. In vain did she object to herself that their conversation did not go beyond the bounds of decency, that this prank could not have any consequences, her conscience grumbled louder than her reason. The promise she made for the next day worried her most of all: she was completely determined not to keep her solemn oath. But Alexey, having waited for her in vain, could go to look for the daughter of Vasily the blacksmith in the village, the real Akulina, a fat, pockmarked girl, and thus guess about her frivolous prank. This thought horrified Lisa, and she decided to appear in Akulina’s grove again the next morning.

For his part, Alexey was delighted; all day long he thought about his new acquaintance; At night and in his dreams, the image of a dark-skinned beauty haunted his imagination. Dawn had barely begun before he was already dressed. Without giving himself time to load the gun, he went out into the field with his faithful Sbogar and ran to the place of the promised meeting. About half an hour passed in unbearable anticipation for him; Finally, he saw a blue sundress flashing between the bushes, and rushed to meet sweet Akulina. She smiled at the delight of his gratitude; but Alexei immediately noticed traces of despondency and anxiety on her face. He wanted to know the reason for this. Lisa admitted that her action seemed frivolous to her, that she repented of it, that this time she did not want to break her word, but that this meeting would be the last, and that she asked him to end the acquaintance, which would lead to no good. can bring them. All this, of course, was said in peasant dialect; but the thoughts and feelings, unusual in a simple girl, amazed Alexei. He used all his eloquence to turn Akulina away from her intentions; he assured her of the innocence of his desires, promised never to give her cause for repentance, to obey her in everything, begged her not to deprive him of one joy: to see her alone, at least every other day, at least twice a week. He spoke the language of true passion, and at that moment he was definitely in love. Lisa listened to him in silence. “Give me your word,” she finally said, that you will never look for me in the village or ask about me. Give me your word not to look for other dates with me, except those that I myself make.” Alexey swore to her on Holy Friday, but she stopped him with a smile. “I don’t need an oath,” said Lisa, just your promise is enough.” After that, they talked amicably, walking together through the forest, until Lisa told him: it’s time. They parted, and Alexey, left alone, could not understand how a simple village girl managed to gain true power over him in two dates. His relations with Akulina had for him the charm of novelty, and although the instructions of the strange peasant woman seemed painful to him, the thought of not keeping his word did not even occur to him. The fact is that Alexey, despite the fatal ring, the mysterious correspondence and the gloomy disappointment, was a kind and ardent fellow and had a pure heart, capable of feeling the pleasures of innocence.

If I had only obeyed my desire, I would certainly have begun to describe in all detail the meetings of the young people, the growing mutual inclination and gullibility, activities, conversations; but I know that most of my readers would not share my pleasure with me. These details should generally seem cloying, so I’ll skip them, saying briefly that not even two months had passed, and my Alexey was already in love, and Liza was no more indifferent, although more silent than him. Both of them were happy in the present and thought little about the future. The thought of an unbreakable bond flashed through their minds quite often, but they never spoke about it to each other. The reason is clear; Alexey, no matter how attached he was to his dear Akulina, still remembered the distance that existed between him and the poor peasant girl; and Lisa knew what hatred existed between their fathers, and did not dare hope for mutual reconciliation. Moreover, her pride was secretly instigated by the dark, romantic hope of finally seeing the Tugilov landowner at the feet of the daughter of the Priluchinsky blacksmith. Suddenly an important incident almost changed their mutual relationship.

One clear, cold morning (one of those with which our Russian autumn is rich) Ivan Petrovich Berestov went out for a walk on horseback, just in case, taking with him three pairs of greyhounds, a stirrup and several yard boys with rattles. At the same time, Grigory Ivanovich Muromsky, tempted by the good weather, ordered his scanty filly to be saddled and rode at a trot near his anglicized possessions. Approaching the forest, he saw his neighbor, proudly sitting on horseback, wearing a checkman lined with fox fur, and a waiting hare, which the boys were driving out of the bushes with shouts and rattles. If Grigory Ivanovich could have foreseen this meeting, then of course he would have turned aside; but he ran into Berestov completely unexpectedly, and suddenly found himself within pistol shot distance of him. There was nothing to be done: Muromsky, like an educated European, drove up to his opponent and politely greeted him. Berestov answered with the same zeal with which a chained bear bows gentlemen on the orders of his leader. At this time, the hare jumped out of the forest and ran across the field. Berestov and the stirrup shouted at the top of their lungs, released the dogs and galloped after them at full speed. Muromsky's horse, which had never been hunting, got scared and bolted. Muromsky, who proclaimed himself an excellent horseman, gave her free rein and was internally pleased with the opportunity that saved him from an unpleasant interlocutor. But the horse, having galloped to a ravine that it had not previously noticed, suddenly rushed to the side, and Muromsky did not sit still. Having fallen rather heavily on the frozen ground, he lay cursing his short mare, which, as if having come to its senses, immediately stopped as soon as it felt itself without a rider. Ivan Petrovich galloped up to him, asking if he had hurt himself. Meanwhile, the stirrup brought the guilty horse, holding it by the bridle. He helped Muromsky climb onto the saddle, and Berestov invited him to his place. Muromsky could not refuse, for he felt obliged, and thus Berestov returned home with glory, having hunted the hare and leading his enemy wounded and almost a prisoner of war.

The neighbors chatted quite amicably while having breakfast. Muromsky asked Berestov for a droshky, because he admitted that due to the injury he was not able to ride home on horseback. Berestov accompanied him all the way to the porch, and Muromsky left not before taking his word of honor to come to Priluchino for a friendly dinner the next day (and with Alexei Ivanovich). Thus, the ancient and deeply rooted enmity seemed ready to end due to the timidity of the short filly.

Lisa ran out to meet Grigory Ivanovich. “What does this mean, dad?” she said in surprise; “Why are you limping? Where is your horse? Whose droshky is this? “You’ll never guess, my dear,” Grigory Ivanovich answered her, and told her everything that happened. Lisa couldn't believe her ears. Grigory Ivanovich, without allowing her to come to her senses, announced that both Berestovs would be dining with him tomorrow. "What are you saying!" she said, turning pale. “The Berestovs, father and son! Tomorrow we have lunch! No, dad, as you wish: I will never show myself.” - “Why are you crazy?” the father objected; “How long ago have you become so shy, or do you have a hereditary hatred for them, like the heroine of a novel? That's enough, don't be foolish..." - "No, dad, not for anything in the world, not for any treasures, will I appear before the Berestovs." Grigory Ivanovich shrugged his shoulders and did not argue with her anymore, because he knew that contradiction would not get anything out of her, and went to take a break from his interesting walk.

Lizaveta Grigorievna went to her room and called Nastya. Both talked for a long time about tomorrow's visit. What will Alexey think if he recognizes his Akulina in the well-bred young lady? What opinion will he have about her behavior and rules, about her prudence? On the other hand, Lisa really wanted to see what impression such an unexpected date would make on him... Suddenly a thought flashed through her mind. She immediately handed it to Nastya; both were delighted with it as a find, and decided to carry it out without fail.

The next day at breakfast, Grigory Ivanovich asked his daughter if she still intended to hide from the Berestovs. “Dad,” answered Lisa, “I will accept them, if it pleases you, only with an agreement: no matter how I appear before them, no matter what I do, you will not scold me and will not give any sign of surprise or displeasure.” - “Again some mischief!” said Grigory Ivanovich laughing. “Well, okay, okay; I agree, do what you want, my black-eyed minx.” With that word, he kissed her forehead and Lisa ran to get ready.

At two o'clock sharp, a carriage of homework, drawn by six horses, drove into the yard and rolled around the dense green turf circle. Old Berestov ascended the porch with the help of two livery lackeys of Muromsky. Following him, his son arrived on horseback and together with him entered the dining room, where the table was already set. Muromsky received his neighbors as kindly as possible, invited them to examine the garden and menagerie before dinner, and led them along paths carefully swept and strewn with sand. Old Berestov internally regretted the lost labor and time on such useless whims, but remained silent out of politeness. His son shared neither the displeasure of the prudent landowner, nor the admiration of the proud Anglomaniac; he was impatiently awaiting the appearance of the master's daughter, about whom he had heard a lot, and although his heart, as we know, was already occupied, the young beauty always had the right to his imagination.

Returning to the living room, the three of them sat down: the old men remembered the old times and anecdotes of their service, and Alexey thought about what role he should play in the presence of Lisa. He decided that cold absent-mindedness was, in any case, the most decent thing and, as a result, got ready. The door opened, he turned his head with such indifference, with such proud negligence that the heart of the most inveterate coquette would certainly have shuddered. Unfortunately, instead of Lisa, old Miss Jackson came in, whitewashed, tight-haired, with downcast eyes and a little curtsy, and Alekseevo’s wonderful military movement was wasted. Before he had time to gather his strength again, the door opened again, and this time Lisa entered. Everyone stood up; the father began to introduce the guests, but suddenly stopped and hastily bit his lips... Lisa, his dark Lisa, was whitewashed to her ears, more than Miss Jackson herself; false curls, much lighter than her own hair, were fluffed up like a Louis XIV wig; sleeves? l'imb?cile stuck out like Madame de Pompadour's hose ; her waist was cinched like an X, and all her mother's diamonds, not yet pawned at the pawnshop, shone on her fingers, neck and ears. Alexey could not recognize his Akulina in this funny and brilliant young lady. His father approached her hand, and he followed him with annoyance; when he touched her little white fingers, it seemed to him that they were trembling. Meanwhile, he managed to notice a leg, deliberately exposed and shod with all kinds of coquetry. This reconciled him somewhat with the rest of her outfit. As for the white and antimony, in the simplicity of his heart, I must admit, he did not notice them at first glance, and did not even suspect them after. Grigory Ivanovich remembered his promise and tried not to show any surprise; but his daughter’s prank seemed so funny to him that he could hardly restrain himself. The prim Englishwoman was not amused. She guessed that the antimony and white had been stolen from her chest of drawers, and a crimson blush of annoyance made its way through the artificial whiteness of her face. She cast fiery glances at the young prankster, who, postponing any explanations until another time, pretended not to notice them.

We sat at the table. Alexey continued to play the role of absent-minded and thoughtful. Lisa affected herself, spoke through clenched teeth, in a sing-song voice, and only in French. My father stared at her every minute, not understanding her purpose, but finding it all very funny. The Englishwoman was furious and silent. Ivan Petrovich alone was at home: he ate for two, drank to his own measure, laughed at his own laughter, and hour by hour he talked and laughed more amiably.

Finally they got up from the table; the guests left, and Grigory Ivanovich gave vent to laughter and questions: “What did you think of fooling them?” he asked Lisa. “Do you know what? The whitewash is right for you; I don’t go into the secrets of the ladies’ toilet, but if I were you, I would start whitening myself; Of course, not too much, but slightly.” Lisa was delighted with the success of her invention. She hugged her father, promised him to think about his advice, and ran to appease the irritated Miss Jackson, who forcibly agreed to unlock her door and listen to her excuses. Liza was ashamed to appear such a dark creature in front of strangers; she did not dare to ask... she was sure that kind, dear Miss Jackson would forgive her... and so on, and so on. Miss Jackson, making sure that Lisa was not thinking of making her laugh, calmed down, kissed Lisa and, as a pledge of reconciliation, gave her a jar of English whitewash, which Lisa accepted with an expression of sincere gratitude.

The reader will guess that the next morning Liza was not slow in appearing in the rendezvous grove. “Did you, master, have an evening with our gentlemen?” she immediately said to Alexei; “What did the young lady seem like to you?” Alexei replied that he did not notice her. “It’s a pity,” Lisa objected. - “Why?” Alexey asked. - “But because I would like to ask you, is it true what they say...” - “What do they say?” - “Is it true that they say that I look like a young lady?” - “What nonsense! she’s a freak in front of you.” - “Oh, master, it’s a sin to tell you this; Our young lady is so white, such a dandy! How can I compare with her! Alexey swore to her that she was better than all kinds of little white ladies, and in order to completely calm her down, he began to describe her mistress with such funny features that Lisa laughed heartily. “However,” she said with a sigh, “even though the young lady may be funny, I’m still an ignorant fool in front of her.” - "AND!" said Alexey, “there is something to lament about! If you want, I’ll teach you to read and write right away.” “But really,” said Lisa, “shouldn’t we really try?” - “If you please, dear; let’s start now.” They sat down. Alexey took a pencil and notebook out of his pocket, and Akulina learned the alphabet surprisingly quickly. Alexey could not be surprised at her understanding. The next morning she wanted to try and write; At first the pencil did not obey her, but after a few minutes she began to draw letters quite decently. “What a miracle!” Alexey spoke. “Yes, our teaching proceeds faster than according to the Lancastrian system.” In fact, in the third lesson, Akulina was already sorting “Natalia the Boyar’s Daughter” into pieces, interrupting her reading with remarks from which Alexey was truly amazed, and marred the round sheet with aphorisms selected from the same story.

A week passed, and correspondence began between them. The post office was established in the hollow of an old oak tree. Nastya secretly improved her position as a postman. Alexey would bring letters written in large handwriting there, and there he would find his beloved’s scribbles on plain blue paper. Akulina apparently got used to the better way of speaking, and her mind noticeably developed and formed.

Meanwhile, the recent acquaintance between Ivan Petrovich Berestov and Grigory Ivanovich Muromsky became more and more strengthened and soon turned into friendship, for the following reasons: Muromsky often thought that after the death of Ivan Petrovich all his estate would pass into the hands of Alexei Ivanovich; that in this case Alexey Ivanovich will be one of the richest landowners of that province, and that there is no reason for him not to marry Liza. Old Berestov, for his part, although he recognized some extravagance in his neighbor (or, in his expression, English stupidity), however, did not deny many excellent qualities in him, for example: rare resourcefulness; Grigory Ivanovich was a close relative of Count Pronsky, a noble and strong man; the count could be very useful to Alexei, and Muromsky (so Ivan Petrovich thought) would probably rejoice at the opportunity to give away his daughter in an advantageous manner. The old men each thought about it all to themselves until they finally talked to each other, hugged each other, promised to handle the matter in order, and each began to fuss about it on his own behalf. Muromsky was faced with a difficulty: to persuade his Betsy to get to know Alexei, whom she had not seen since that memorable dinner. They didn't seem to like each other very much; at least Alexey no longer returned to Priluchino, and Liza went to her room every time Ivan Petrovich honored them with a visit. But, thought Grigory Ivanovich, if Alexey is with me every day, then Betsy will have to fall in love with him. This is par for the course. Time will sort everything out.

Ivan Petrovich was less worried about the success of his intentions. That same evening, he called his son into his office, lit a pipe, and after a short silence, said: “Why haven’t you been talking about military service for a long time, Alyosha? Or the hussar uniform no longer seduces you! “No, father,” answered Alexey respectfully, “I see that you don’t want me to join the hussars; It’s my duty to obey you.” “Okay,” answered Ivan Petrovich, “I see that you are an obedient son; This is comforting to me; I don’t want to force you either; I am not forcing you to enter... immediately... into civil service; In the meantime, I intend to marry you.”

Who is it on, father? - asked the amazed Alexey.

To Lizaveta Grigoryevna Muromskaya,” answered Ivan Petrovich; - the bride anywhere; is not it?

Father, I’m not thinking about marriage yet.

You don’t think so, I thought for you and changed my mind.

Your will. I don't like Liza Muromskaya at all.

You'll like it afterwards. He will endure it, he will fall in love.

I don't feel capable of making her happy.

It is not your grief that is her happiness. What? Is this how you respect your parents’ will? Good!

As you wish, I don’t want to get married and I won’t get married.

You get married, or I will curse you, and property is holy as God! I’ll sell it and squander it, and I won’t leave you half a dime. I’ll give you three days to think about it, but in the meantime don’t dare show your face to me.

Alexey knew that if his father took something into his head, then, as Taras Skotinin put it, you couldn’t knock it out of him even with a nail; but Alexey was like a priest, and it was just as difficult to argue with him. He went to his room and began to think about the limits of his parents’ power, about Lizaveta Grigorievna, about his father’s solemn promise to make him a beggar, and finally about Akulin. For the first time he saw clearly that he was passionately in love with her; The romantic idea of ​​marrying a peasant woman and living by his own labors came into his head, and the more he thought about this decisive action, the more prudence he found in it. For some time, meetings in the grove were stopped due to rainy weather. He wrote a letter to Akulina in the clearest handwriting and the wildest style, announcing to her the death that threatened them, and immediately offering her his hand. He immediately took the letter to the post office, to the hollow, and went to bed quite pleased with himself.

The next day, Alexey, firm in his intention, went to Muromsky early in the morning in order to frankly explain himself to him. He hoped to incite his generosity and win him over to his side. “Is Grigory Ivanovich at home?” he asked, stopping his horse in front of the porch of the Priluchinsky castle. “No way,” answered the servant; “Grigory Ivanovich deigned to leave in the morning.” - “How annoying!” thought Alexey. “Is Lizaveta Grigorievna at home at least?” - “At home, sir.” And Alexey jumped off the horse, gave the reins into the hands of the footman, and went without a report.

“Everything will be decided,” he thought, approaching the living room; “I’ll explain it to her myself.” - He came in... and was dumbfounded! Liza... no Akulina, sweet dark Akulina, not in a sundress, but in a white morning dress, sat in front of the window and read his letter; She was so busy that she didn’t hear him enter. Alexey could not resist a joyful exclamation. Lisa shuddered, raised her head, screamed and wanted to run away. He rushed to hold her. “Akulina, Akulina!..” Lisa tried to free herself from him... “ Mais laissez-moi donc, monsieur; mais?tes-vous fou? “she repeated, turning away. “Akulina! my friend, Akulina!” he repeated, kissing her hands. Miss Jackson, witnessing this scene, did not know what to think. At that moment the door opened and Grigory Ivanovich entered.

“Yeah!” said Muromsky, “Yes, it seems that things are already completely coordinated with you...”

Readers will relieve me of the unnecessary obligation to describe the denouement.

THE END OF I. P. BELKIN’S STORIES

(A.S. Pushkin. Tale. 1830)

Source

eyebrows, re-read Pamela twice a year, received two thousand rubles for it and died of boredom in this barbaric Russia.

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Nastya followed Liza; she was older, but just as flighty as her young lady. Lisa loved her very much, revealed all her secrets to her, and thought over her ideas with her; in a word, Nastya was a much more significant person in the village of Priluchina than any confidante in the French tragedy.

Let me go visit today,” Nastya said one day, dressing the young lady.

Please; And where to?

To Tugilovo, to the Berestovs. The cook's wife is their birthday girl and yesterday she came to invite us to dinner.

Here! - said Lisa, - the gentlemen are in a quarrel, and the servants treat each other.

What do we care about gentlemen! - Nastya objected, - besides, I’m yours, not daddy’s. You haven’t quarreled with young Berestov yet; and let the old people fight if it’s fun for them.

Try, Nastya, to see Alexei Berestov, and tell me thoroughly what he is like and what kind of person he is.

Nastya promised, and Lisa eagerly awaited her return all day. In the evening Nastya appeared.

Well, Lizaveta Grigorievna,” she said, entering the room, “saw young Berestov: she’s had enough of a look; We were together all day.

Like this? Tell me, tell me in order.

If you please, sir; let's go, me, Anisya Egorovna, Nenila, Dunka...

Okay, I know. Well then?

Let me tell you everything in order. We arrived just before lunch. The room was full of people. There were the Kolbinskys, the Zakharyevskys, the clerk with her daughters, the Khlupinskys...

Well! and Berestov?

Wait, sir. So we sat down at the table, the clerk was in first place, I was next to her... and the daughters were sulking, but I don’t care about them...

Oh, Nastya, how boring you are with your eternal details!

How impatient you are! Well, we left the table... and we sat for three hours, and the dinner was delicious; a blancmange cake blue, red and striped... So we left the table and went into the garden to play burners, and the young master appeared here.

Well? Is it true that he is so good-looking?

Surprisingly good, handsome, one might say. Slender, tall, blush all over his cheek...

Right? And I thought that his face was pale. What? What did he look like to you? Sad, thoughtful?

What do you? I've never seen such a madman in my entire life. He decided to run with us into the burners.

Run into the burners with you! Impossible!

Very possible! What else did you come up with! He'll catch you and kiss you!

It's your choice, Nastya, you're lying.

It's your choice, I'm not lying. I got rid of him by force. He spent the whole day with us like that.

Why, they say, he’s in love and doesn’t look at anyone?

I don’t know, sir, but he looked at me too much, and at Tanya, the clerk’s daughter, too; and to Pasha Kolbinskaya, yes, it’s a shame to say, he didn’t offend anyone, such a spoiler!

It is amazing! What do you hear about him in the house?

The master, they say, is wonderful: so kind, so cheerful. One thing is bad: he likes to chase girls too much. Yes, for me, this is not a problem: it will settle down over time.

How I would like to see him! - Lisa said with a sigh.

What's so clever about that? Tugilovo is not far from us, only three miles: go for a walk in that direction or ride on horseback; you will probably meet him. Every day, early in the morning, he goes hunting with a gun.

No, it's not good. He might think I'm chasing him. Besides, our fathers are in a quarrel, so I still won’t be able to meet him... Oh, Nastya! Do you know what? I'll dress up as a peasant girl!

And indeed; put on a thick shirt, a sundress, and go boldly to Tugilovo; I guarantee you that Berestov will not miss you.

And I can speak the local language perfectly well. Oh, Nastya, dear Nastya! What a wonderful idea! - And Lisa went to bed with the intention of certainly fulfilling her cheerful assumption.

The next day she began to carry out her plan, sent to buy thick linen, blue Chinese clothes and copper buttons at the market, with Nastya’s help she cut herself a shirt and a sundress, set the whole girl’s room to sewing, and by evening everything was ready. Lisa tried on the new look and admitted in front of the mirror that she had never seemed so cute to herself. She repeated her role, bowed low as she walked and then shook her head several times, like clay cats, spoke in a peasant dialect, laughed, covering herself with her sleeve, and earned Nastya’s complete approval.

PEASANT GIRL

You, Darling, look good in all your outfits.
Bogdanovich.

In one of our remote provinces there was an estate of Ivan Petrovich Berestov. In his youth he served in the guard, retired at the beginning of 1797, went to his village and since then he has not left there. He was married to a poor noblewoman who died in childbirth while he was away in the field. Household exercises soon consoled him. He built a house according to his own plan, started a cloth factory, established an income and began to consider himself the smartest man in the entire neighborhood, which his neighbors, who came to visit him with their families and dogs, did not contradict him about. On weekdays he wore a corduroy jacket, on holidays he put on a frock coat made of homemade cloth; I wrote down the expenses myself and read nothing except the Senate Gazette. In general, he was loved, although he was considered proud. Only Grigory Ivanovich Muromsky, his closest neighbor, did not get along with him. This was a real Russian gentleman. Having squandered most of his estate in Moscow, and at that time widowed, he left for his last village, where he continued to play pranks, but in a new way. He planted an English garden, on which he spent almost all his other income. His grooms were dressed as English jockeys. His daughter had an English madam. He cultivated his fields according to the English method.
But Russian bread will not be born in someone else’s manner, and despite the significant reduction in expenses, Grigory Ivanovich’s income did not increase; Even in the village he found a way to enter into new debts; With all that, he was considered a not stupid person, for he was the first of the landowners of his province to think of mortgaging his estate in the Guardian Council: a turn that seemed at that time extremely complex and bold. Of the people who condemned him, Berestov responded most severely. Hatred of innovation was a distinctive feature of his character. He could not speak indifferently about his neighbor's Anglomania, and every minute he found an opportunity to criticize him. Did he show the guest his possessions, in response to praise for his economic management: “Yes, sir!” he spoke with a sly smile; “I don’t have the same thing as my neighbor Grigory Ivanovich. Where can we go broke in English! If only we were at least well-fed in Russian.” These and similar jokes, due to the diligence of the neighbors, were brought to the attention of Grigory Ivanovich with additions and explanations. The Angloman endured criticism as impatiently as our journalists. He got mad and called his zoil the provincial bear. Such were the relations between these two owners, how Berestov’s son came to his village. He was brought up at the *** University and intended to enter military service, but his father did not agree to this. The young man felt completely incapable of civil service. They were not inferior to each other, and young Alexey began to live for the time being as a master, growing a mustache just in case. Alexey was, in fact, a great guy. It would really be a pity if his slender figure was never pulled together by a military uniform, and if, instead of showing off on a horse, he spent his youth bent over office papers. Seeing how he always galloped first when hunting, without making out the way, the neighbors agreed that he would never make a good chief executive. The young ladies glanced at him, and others looked at him; but Alexey did little with them, and they believed that the reason for his insensitivity was a love affair. In fact, a list was circulating from hand to hand from the address of one of his letters: Akulina Petrovna Kurochkina, in Moscow, opposite the Alekseevsky Monastery, in the house of the coppersmith Savelyev, and I humbly ask you to deliver this letter to A. N. R. Those of my readers who They didn’t live in the villages, they can’t imagine what a charm these county young ladies are! Brought up in the clean air, in the shade of their garden apple trees, they draw knowledge of light and life from books. Solitude, freedom and reading early develop in them feelings and passions unknown to our absent-minded beauties. For a young lady, the ringing of a bell is already an adventure, a trip to a nearby city is considered an era in life, and a visit to a guest leaves a long, sometimes eternal memory. Of course, everyone is free to laugh at some of their oddities; but the jokes of a superficial observer cannot destroy their essential merits, of which the main thing is character, originality (individuality), without which, according to Jean-Paul, human greatness does not exist. In the capitals, women receive perhaps a better education; but the skill of light soon softens the character and makes souls as monotonous as hats. Let this be said not in court, and not in condemnation, but nota nostra manet, as one old commentator writes. It is easy to imagine what impression Alexey must have made among our young ladies. He was the first to appear before them, gloomy and disappointed, the first to tell them about lost joys and about his faded youth; Moreover, he wore a black ring with the image of a death's head. All this was extremely new in that province. The young ladies went crazy for him. But the most preoccupied with him was my Anglomaniac’s daughter, Lisa (or Betsy, as Grigory Ivanovich usually called her). The fathers did not visit each other, she had not yet seen Alexei, while all the young neighbors talked only about him. She was seventeen years old. Her dark eyes enlivened her dark and very pleasant face. She was the only and therefore spoiled child. Her agility and minute-by-minute pranks delighted her father and drove her Madame Miss Jackson, a forty-year-old prim girl, into despair, who bleached her hair and raised her eyebrows, re-read Pamela twice a year, received two thousand rubles for it, and died of boredom in this barbaric Russia. Nastya followed Liza; she was older, but just as flighty as her young lady. Lisa loved her very much, revealed all her secrets to her, and thought over her ideas with her; in a word, Nastya was a much more significant person in the village of Priluchina than any confidante in the French tragedy. “Let me go visit today,” Nastya said one day, dressing the young lady. "If you please; where to?" “In Tugilovo, to the Berestovs. The cook’s wife is their birthday girl, and yesterday she came to invite us to dinner.” "Here!" said Lisa, “The gentlemen are quarreling, and the servants are calming each other down.” “What do we care about gentlemen!” Nastya objected; “besides, I’m yours, not daddy’s. You haven’t fought with young Berestov yet; let the old people fight if it’s fun for them.” “Try, Nastya, to see Alexei Berestov, and tell me well what he is like and what kind of person he is.” Nastya promised, and Lisa eagerly awaited her return all day. In the evening Nastya appeared. “Well, Lizaveta Grigorievna,” she said, entering the room, “saw young Berestov: she had enough of a look; we were together all day.” - “How is this? Tell me, tell me in order.” “If you please, let’s go, me, Anisya Egorovna, Nenila, Dunka...” - “Okay, I know. Well then?” “Let me tell you everything in order. So we came just before dinner. The room was full of people. There were the Kolbinskys, the Zakharyevskys, the clerk with her daughters, the Khlupinskys...” - “Well! And the Berestovs?” “Wait, sir. So we sat down at the table, the clerk was in first place, I was next to her... and the daughters were sulking, but I don’t care about them...” - “Oh Nastya, how boring you are with your eternal details!” “How impatient you are! Well, we left the table... and we sat for three hours and the dinner was delicious; the blanc-mange cake was blue, red and striped... So we left the table and went into the garden to play burners, and the young master appeared here.” - “Well? Is it true that he is so good-looking?” “Surprisingly handsome, handsome, one might say. Slender, tall, blush all over his cheek...” - “Really? And I thought that his face was pale. Well? What did he look like to you? Sad, thoughtful?” “What are you talking about? I’ve never seen such a madman in my life. He decided to run into the burners with us.” - “Running into the burners with you! Impossible!” “Very possible! What else did you come up with! He’ll catch you and kiss you!” - “Your will, Nastya, you’re lying.” “It’s your choice, I’m not lying. I got rid of him by force. He messed around with us all day.” - “Why, they say, he’s in love and doesn’t look at anyone?” “I don’t know, sir, but he looked at me too much, and at Tanya, the clerk’s daughter, too; and at Pasha Kolbinskaya, but it’s a shame he didn’t offend anyone, such a spoiler!” - “This is amazing! What do you hear about him in the house?” “The master, they say, is wonderful: so kind, so cheerful. One thing is not good: he likes to chase girls too much. Yes, for me, this is not a problem: in time he will settle down.” - “How I would like to see him!” Lisa said with a sigh. “What’s so tricky about this? Tugilovo is not far from us, only three miles: go for a walk in that direction, or ride on horseback; you’ll definitely meet him. Every day, early in the morning, he goes hunting with a gun.” - “No, it’s not good. He might think that I’m chasing him. Besides, our fathers are in a quarrel, so I still won’t be able to meet him... Oh, Nastya! Do you know what? I’ll dress up as a peasant girl.” !" “And indeed; put on a thick shirt, a sundress, and go boldly to Tugilovo; I guarantee you that Berestov will not miss you.” - “And I can speak the local language perfectly. Oh, dear Nastya! What a glorious invention!” And Lisa went to bed with the intention of certainly fulfilling her cheerful assumption. The next day she began to carry out her plan, sent to buy thick linen, blue Chinese clothes and copper buttons at the market, with Nastya’s help she cut herself a shirt and a sundress, set the whole girl’s room to sewing, and by evening everything was ready. Lisa tried on the new look and admitted in front of the mirror that she had never seemed so cute to herself. She repeated her role, bowed low as she walked and then shook her head several times, like clay cats, spoke in a peasant dialect, laughed, covering herself with her sleeve, and earned Nastya’s complete approval. One thing made it difficult for her: she tried to walk across the yard barefoot, but the turf pricked her tender feet, and the sand and pebbles seemed unbearable to her. Nastya helped her here too: she took the measurement of Liza’s leg, ran to the field to Trofim the shepherd and ordered him a pair of bast shoes according to that measurement. The next day, before dawn, Lisa had already woken up. The whole house was still asleep. Nastya was waiting for the shepherd outside the gate. The horn began to play and the village herd pulled past the manor's yard. Trofim, passing in front of Nastya, gave her small colorful bast shoes and received half a ruble from her as a reward. Lisa quietly dressed up as a peasant, gave Nastya her instructions regarding Miss Jackson in a whisper, went out onto the back porch and ran through the garden into the field. The dawn shone in the east, and the golden rows of clouds seemed to be waiting for the sun, like courtiers waiting for a sovereign; the clear sky, morning freshness, dew, breeze and birdsong filled Lisa's heart with infantile gaiety; afraid of some familiar meeting, she seemed not to walk, but to fly. Approaching the grove standing on the border of her father's property, Lisa walked more quietly. Here she was supposed to wait for Alexei. Her heart was beating strongly, without knowing why; but the fear that accompanies our young pranks is also their main charm. Lisa entered the darkness of the grove. A dull, rolling noise greeted the girl. Her gaiety died down. Little by little she indulged in sweet reverie. She thought... but is it possible to accurately determine what a seventeen-year-old young lady is thinking about, alone, in a grove, at six o’clock on a spring morning? And so she walked, lost in thought, along the road, shaded on both sides by tall trees, when suddenly a beautiful kicking dog barked at her. Lisa got scared and screamed. At the same time, a voice was heard: tout beau, Sbogar, ici... and a young hunter appeared from behind the bushes. “I suppose, honey,” he said to Lisa, “my dog ​​doesn’t bite.” Lisa had already recovered from her fright and knew how to immediately take advantage of the circumstances. “No, master,” she said, pretending to be half-frightened, half-shy, “I’m afraid: she’s so angry, you see; she’ll attack again.” Alexey (the reader already recognized him) meanwhile was looking intently at the young peasant woman. “I will accompany you if you are afraid,” he told her; "Will you let me walk beside you?" - “Who’s stopping you?” Lisa answered; "To the free will, but the road is worldly." - "Where are you from?" - “From Priluchin; I am the daughter of Vasily the blacksmith, I’m going mushroom hunting” (Lisa carried the box on a string). “And you, master? Tugilovsky, or what?” “That’s right,” Alexey answered, “I’m the young master’s valet.” Alexey wanted to level out their relationship. But Lisa looked at him and laughed. “You’re lying,” she said, “you’re not attacking a fool.” I see that you are a master yourself." - "Why do you think so?" - "Yes, by all means." - "However?" - "But how can you not recognize the master and the servant? And he’s dressed differently, and you act differently, and your dog’s name is not ours.” From time to time, Alexei liked Liza more and more. Accustomed to not standing on ceremony with pretty village girls, he wanted to hug her; but Liza jumped away from him and suddenly accepted she looked so stern and cold that although it made Alexei laugh, it kept him from further attempts. “If you want us to be friends in the future,” she said with gravity, “then please don’t forget yourself.” - “Who are you?” taught this wisdom?" Alexey asked, laughing: "Isn’t Nastinka, my friend, your young lady’s girlfriend? These are the ways in which enlightenment spreads!" Lisa felt that she had gone out of her role, and immediately corrected herself. "What do you think?" she said; "don't I ever go to the manor's courtyard? I suppose: I’ve heard and seen enough of everything. However,” she continued, “you can’t pick up mushrooms just by chatting with you. Go one way, master, and I’ll go the other way. We ask for forgiveness..." Lisa wanted to leave, Alexey held her hand. "What is your name, my soul." - "Akulina," answered Lisa, trying to free her fingers from Alekseeva's hand; "let me go, master; It’s time for me to go home.” “Well, my friend Akulina, I will certainly visit your father, Vasily the blacksmith.” “What are you doing?” Liza objected with liveliness, “For Christ’s sake, don’t come. If at home they find out that I chatted alone with the master in the grove, then I will be in trouble; My father, Vasily the blacksmith, will beat me to death." - “Yes, I definitely want to see you again." - “Well, someday I’ll come here again to buy mushrooms.” - “When?” - “Yes, even tomorrow.” - “Dear Akulina, I would kiss you, but I don’t dare. So tomorrow, at this time, isn’t it?” "Yes Yes". - “And you won’t deceive me?” - “I won’t deceive you.” - “Word.” - “Well, it’s Holy Friday, I’ll come.” The young people separated. Lisa came out of the forest, crossed the field, crept into the garden and ran headlong to the farm, where Nastya was waiting for her. There she changed clothes, absentmindedly answering the questions of her impatient confidante, and appeared in the living room. The table was set, breakfast was ready, and Miss Jackson, already whitened and drinking, was cutting thin tartines. Her father praised her for her early walk. “There’s nothing healthier,” he said, “than waking up at dawn.” Here he gave several examples of human longevity, drawn from English magazines, noting that all people who lived more than a hundred years did not drink vodka and got up at dawn in winter and summer. Lisa didn't listen to him. In her mind she repeated all the circumstances of the morning meeting, Akulina’s entire conversation with the young hunter, and her conscience began to torment her. In vain did she object to herself that their conversation did not go beyond the bounds of decency, that this prank could not have any consequences, her conscience grumbled louder than her reason. The promise she made for the next day worried her most of all: she was completely determined not to keep her solemn oath. But Alexey, having waited for her in vain, could go to look for the daughter of Vasily the blacksmith in the village, the real Akulina, a fat, pockmarked girl, and thus guess about her frivolous prank. This thought horrified Lisa, and she decided to appear in Akulina’s grove again the next morning. For his part, Alexey was delighted; all day long he thought about his new acquaintance; At night and in his dreams, the image of a dark-skinned beauty haunted his imagination. Dawn had barely begun before he was already dressed. Without giving himself time to load the gun, he went out into the field with his faithful Sbogar and ran to the place of the promised meeting. About half an hour passed in unbearable anticipation for him; Finally, he saw a blue sundress flashing between the bushes, and rushed to meet sweet Akulina. She smiled at the delight of his gratitude; but Alexei immediately noticed traces of despondency and anxiety on her face. He wanted to know the reason for this. Lisa admitted that her action seemed frivolous to her, that she repented of it, that this time she did not want to break her word, but that this meeting would be the last, and that she asked him to end the acquaintance, which would lead to no good. can bring them. All this, of course, was said in peasant dialect; but the thoughts and feelings, unusual in a simple girl, amazed Alexei. He used all his eloquence to turn Akulina away from her intentions; he assured her of the innocence of his desires, promised never to give her cause for repentance, to obey her in everything, begged her not to deprive him of one joy: to see her alone, at least every other day, at least twice a week. He spoke the language of true passion, and at that moment he was definitely in love. Lisa listened to him in silence. “Give me your word,” she said at last, “that you will never look for me in the village or ask about me. Give me your word not to seek other dates with me, except those that I myself make.” Alexey swore to her on Holy Friday, but she stopped him with a smile. “I don’t need an oath,” said Lisa, “your promise is enough.” After that, they talked amicably, walking together through the forest, until Lisa told him: it’s time. They parted, and Alexey, left alone, could not understand how a simple village girl managed to gain true power over him in two dates. His relations with Akulina had for him the charm of novelty, and although the instructions of the strange peasant woman seemed painful to him, the thought of not keeping his word did not even occur to him. The fact is that Alexey, despite the fatal ring, the mysterious correspondence and the gloomy disappointment, was a kind and ardent fellow and had a pure heart, capable of feeling the pleasures of innocence. If I had only obeyed my desire, I would certainly have begun to describe in all detail the meetings of the young people, the growing mutual inclination and gullibility, activities, conversations; but I know that most of my readers would not share my pleasure with me. These details should generally seem cloying, so I’ll skip them, saying briefly that not even two months had passed, and my Alexey was already in love, and Liza was no more indifferent, although more silent than him. Both of them were happy in the present and thought little about the future. The thought of an unbreakable bond flashed through their minds quite often, but they never spoke about it to each other. The reason is clear; Alexey, no matter how attached he was to his dear Akulina, still remembered the distance that existed between him and the poor peasant girl; and Lisa knew what hatred existed between their fathers, and did not dare hope for mutual reconciliation. Moreover, her pride was secretly instigated by the dark, romantic hope of finally seeing the Tugilov landowner at the feet of the daughter of the Priluchinsky blacksmith. Suddenly an important incident almost changed their mutual relationship. One clear, cold morning (one of those with which our Russian autumn is rich) Ivan Petrovich Berestov went out for a walk on horseback, just in case, taking with him three pairs of greyhounds, a stirrup and several yard boys with rattles. At the same time, Grigory Ivanovich Muromsky, tempted by the good weather, ordered his scanty filly to be saddled and rode at a trot near his anglicized possessions. Approaching the forest, he saw his neighbor, proudly sitting on horseback, wearing a checkman lined with fox fur, and a waiting hare, which the boys were driving out of the bushes with shouts and rattles. If Grigory Ivanovich could have foreseen this meeting, then of course he would have turned aside; but he ran into Berestov completely unexpectedly, and suddenly found himself within pistol shot distance of him. There was nothing to be done: Muromsky, like an educated European, drove up to his opponent and politely greeted him. Berestov answered with the same zeal with which a chained bear bows to his masters on the orders of his leader. At this time, the hare jumped out of the forest and ran across the field. Berestov and the stirrup shouted at the top of their lungs, released the dogs and galloped after them at full speed. Muromsky's horse, which had never been hunting, got scared and bolted. Muromsky, who proclaimed himself an excellent horseman, gave her free rein and was internally pleased with the opportunity that saved him from an unpleasant interlocutor. But the horse, having galloped to a ravine that it had not previously noticed, suddenly rushed to the side, and Muromsky did not sit still. Having fallen rather heavily on the frozen ground, he lay cursing his short mare, which, as if having come to its senses, immediately stopped as soon as it felt itself without a rider. Ivan Petrovich galloped up to him, asking if he had hurt himself. Meanwhile, the stirrup brought the guilty horse, holding it under its lips. He helped Muromsky climb onto the saddle, and Berestov invited him to his place. Muromsky could not refuse, for he felt obliged, and thus Berestov returned home with glory, having hunted the hare and leading his enemy wounded and almost a prisoner of war. The neighbors chatted quite amicably while having breakfast. Muromsky asked Berestov for a droshky, because he admitted that due to the injury he was not able to ride home on horseback. Berestov accompanied him all the way to the porch, and Muromsky left not before taking his word of honor to come to Priluchino for a friendly dinner the next day (and with Alexei Ivanovich). Thus, the ancient and deeply rooted enmity seemed ready to end due to the timidity of the short filly. Lisa ran out to meet Grigory Ivanovich. "What does this mean, dad?" she said in surprise; "Why are you limping? Where is your horse? Whose droshky is this?" “You’ll never guess, my dear,” Grigory Ivanovich answered her, and told her everything that happened. Lisa couldn't believe her ears. Grigory Ivanovich, without allowing her to come to her senses, announced that both Berestovs would be dining with him tomorrow. "What are you saying!" she said, turning pale. “The Berestovs, father and son! Tomorrow we will have dinner! No, dad, as you wish: I will never show myself.” - “Why are you crazy?” the father objected; “How long ago have you become so shy, or do you have a hereditary hatred for them, like a romantic heroine? Come on, don’t be foolish...” - “No, dad, not for anything in the world, not for any treasure, will I appear before the Berestovs.” . Grigory Ivanovich shrugged his shoulders and did not argue with her anymore, because he knew that contradiction would not get anything out of her, and went to take a break from his interesting walk. Lizaveta Grigorievna went to her room and called Nastya. Both talked for a long time about tomorrow's visit. What will Alexey think if he recognizes his Akulina in the well-bred young lady? What opinion will he have about her behavior and rules, about her prudence? On the other hand, Lisa really wanted to see what impression such an unexpected date would make on him... Suddenly a thought flashed through her mind. She immediately handed it to Nastya; both were delighted with it as a find, and decided to carry it out without fail. The next day at breakfast, Grigory Ivanovich asked his daughter if she still intended to hide from the Berestovs. “Dad,” answered Lisa, “I will accept them, if it pleases you, only with an agreement: no matter how I appear before them, no matter what I do, you will not scold me and will not give any sign of surprise or displeasure.” - “Again some mischief!” said Grigory Ivanovich laughing. “Well, okay, okay; I agree, do what you want, my black-eyed minx.” With that word, he kissed her forehead and Lisa ran to get ready. At two o'clock sharp, a carriage of homework, drawn by six horses, drove into the yard and rolled around the densely green turf circle. Old Berestov ascended the porch with the help of two livery lackeys of Muromsky. Following him, his son came on horseback and together with him entered the dining room, where the table was already set. Muromsky received his neighbors as kindly as possible, invited them to examine the garden and menagerie before dinner, and led them along paths carefully swept and strewn with sand. Old Berestov internally regretted the lost labor and time on such useless whims, but remained silent out of politeness. His son shared neither the displeasure of the prudent landowner, nor the admiration of the proud Anglomaniac; he was impatiently awaiting the appearance of the master's daughter, about whom he had heard a lot, and although his heart, as we know, was already occupied, the young beauty always had the right to his imagination. Returning to the living room, the three of them sat down: the old men remembered the old times and anecdotes of their service, and Alexey thought about what role he should play in the presence of Lisa. He decided that cold absent-mindedness was, in any case, the most decent thing and, as a result, got ready. The door opened, he turned his head with such indifference, with such proud negligence that the heart of the most inveterate coquette would certainly have shuddered. Unfortunately, instead of Lisa, old Miss Jackson came in, whitewashed, tight-haired, with downcast eyes and a little curtsy, and Alekseevo’s wonderful military movement was wasted. Before he had time to gather his strength again, the door opened again, and this time Lisa entered. Everyone stood up; the father began to introduce the guests, but suddenly stopped and hastily bit his lips... Liza, his dark Liza, was whitewashed up to her ears, more than Miss Jackson herself; false curls, much lighter than her own hair, were fluffed up like a Louis XIV wig; the sleeves of the "imbécile" stuck out like Madame de Pompadour's hose; the waist was tied like the letter X, and all her mother's diamonds, not yet pawned in the pawnshop, shone on her fingers, neck and ears. Alexey could not recognize his Akulina in this funny and brilliant young lady. His father approached her hand, and he followed him with annoyance; when he touched her little white fingers, it seemed to him that they were trembling. Meanwhile, he managed to notice a leg, deliberately exposed and shod with all kinds of coquetry. This reconciled him somewhat with the rest of her outfit. As for the whitewash and antimony, in the simplicity of his heart, I must admit, he did not notice them at first glance, and even then did not suspect them. Grigory Ivanovich remembered his promise and tried not to show it. surprise; but his daughter's prank seemed so funny to him that he could hardly restrain himself. The prim Englishwoman was not amused. She guessed that the antimony and white had been stolen from her chest of drawers, and a crimson blush of annoyance made its way through the artificial whiteness of her face. She cast fiery glances at the young prankster, who, postponing any explanations until another time, pretended not to notice them. We sat at the table. Alexey continued to play the role of absent-minded and thoughtful. Lisa affected herself, spoke through clenched teeth, in a sing-song voice, and only in French. My father stared at her every minute, not understanding her purpose, but finding it all very funny. The Englishwoman was furious and silent. Ivan Petrovich alone was at home: he ate for two, drank to his own measure, laughed at his own laughter, and hour by hour he talked and laughed more amiably. Finally they got up from the table; the guests left, and Grigory Ivanovich gave vent to laughter and questions: “What did you think of fooling them?” he asked Lisa. “Do you know what? Whitewash is right for you; I don’t go into the secrets of the ladies’ toilet, but if I were you, I would start whitewashing; of course, not too much, but slightly.” Lisa was delighted with the success of her invention. She hugged her father, promised him to think about his advice, and ran to appease the irritated Miss Jackson, who forcibly agreed to unlock her door and listen to her excuses. Liza was ashamed to appear such a dark creature in front of strangers; she did not dare to ask... she was sure that kind, dear Miss Jackson would forgive her... and so on, and so on. Miss Jackson, making sure that Lisa was not thinking of making her laugh, calmed down, kissed Lisa and, as a pledge of reconciliation, gave her a jar of English white, which Lisa accepted with an expression of sincere gratitude. The reader will guess that the next morning Liza was not slow in appearing in the rendezvous grove. “Did you, master, have an evening with our gentlemen?” she immediately said to Alexei; “What did the young lady seem like to you?” Alexei replied that he did not notice her. “It’s a pity,” Lisa objected. - “Why?” Alexey asked. - “And because I would like to ask you, is it true what they say...” - “What do they say?” - “Is it true that they say that I look like a young lady?” - “What nonsense! She’s a freak in front of you.” - “Oh, master, it’s a sin to tell you this; our young lady is so white, such a dandy! How can I compare with her!” Alexey swore to her that she was better than all kinds of little white ladies, and in order to completely calm her down, he began to describe her mistress with such funny features that Lisa laughed heartily. “However,” she said with a sigh, “even though the young lady may be funny, I’m still an ignorant fool in front of her.” - "AND!" said Alexei, “There is something to lament about! Yes, if you want, I will immediately teach you to read and write.” “But really,” said Lisa, “shouldn’t we really try?” - “If you please, dear; let’s start now.” They sat down. Alexey took a pencil and notebook out of his pocket, and Akulina learned the alphabet surprisingly quickly. Alexey could not be surprised at her understanding. The next morning she wanted to try and write; At first the pencil did not obey her, but after a few minutes she began to draw letters quite decently. "What a miracle!" Alexey spoke. “Yes, our teaching proceeds faster than according to the Lancastrian system.” In fact, in the third lesson, Akulina was already sorting out "Natalia the Boyar's Daughter" from piece to piece, interrupting her reading with remarks that truly amazed Alexei, and she blotted out the round sheet of paper with aphorisms selected from the same story. A week passed, and correspondence began between them. The post office was established in the hollow of an old oak tree. Nastya secretly corrected the postman's position. Alexey would bring letters written in large handwriting there, and there he would find his beloved’s scribbles on plain blue paper. Akulina apparently got used to the better way of speaking, and her mind noticeably developed and formed. Meanwhile, the recent acquaintance between Ivan Petrovich Berestov and Grigory Ivanovich Muromsky became more and more strengthened and soon turned into friendship, for the following reasons: Muromsky often thought that after the death of Ivan Petrovich all his estate would pass into the hands of Alexei Ivanovich; that in this case Alexey Ivanovich will be one of the richest landowners of that province, and that there is no reason for him not to marry Liza. Old Berestov, for his part, although he recognized some extravagance in his neighbor (or, in his expression, English stupidity), however, did not deny many excellent qualities in him, for example: rare resourcefulness; Grigory Ivanovich was a close relative of Count Pronsky, a noble and strong man; the count could be very useful to Alexei, and Muromsky (so Ivan Petrovich thought) would probably rejoice at the opportunity to give away his daughter in an advantageous manner. The old men each thought about it all to themselves until they finally talked to each other, hugged each other, promised to handle the matter in order, and each began to fuss about it for his part. Muromsky was faced with a difficulty: to persuade his Betsy to get to know Alexei, whom she had not seen since that memorable dinner. They didn't seem to like each other very much; at least Alexey no longer returned to Priluchino, and Liza went to her room every time Ivan Petrovich honored them with a visit. But, thought Grigory Ivanovich, if Alexey is with me every day, then Betsy will have to fall in love with him. This is par for the course. Time will sort everything out. Ivan Petrovich was less worried about the success of his intentions. That same evening, he called his son into his office, lit a pipe, and after a short silence, said: “Why haven’t you been talking about military service for a long time, Alyosha? Or the hussar uniform no longer seduces you! " - “No, father,” answered Alexei respectfully, “I see that you do not want me to join the hussars; It’s my duty to obey you.” “Okay,” answered Ivan Petrovich, “I see that you are an obedient son; This is comforting to me; I don’t want to force you either; I am not forcing you to enter... immediately... into civil service; In the meantime, I intend to marry you." "Who is it, father?" asked the amazed Alexey. "To Lizaveta Grigorievna of Muromskaya," answered Ivan Petrovich; "the bride is anywhere; Isn't that true?" "Father, I'm not thinking about marriage yet." - "You don't think so, I thought for you and changed my mind." "Your choice, I don't like Liza Muromskaya at all." - "I'll like it later. She will endure it, she will fall in love." "I don't feel capable of making her happy." - "It's not your grief that's her happiness. What? Is this how you respect your parents’ will? Good!” “As you wish, I don’t want to get married and I won’t get married.” - “You get married, or I’ll curse you, and property is holy as God! I’ll sell it and squander it, and I won’t leave you half a dime. I’ll give you three days to think about it, but in the meantime don’t dare show your face to me.” Alexey knew that if his father took something into his head, then, as Taras Skotinin put it, you couldn’t knock it out of him even with a nail; but Alexey was like a father. , and it was just as difficult to argue with him. He went into his room and began to think about the limits of his parents’ power, about Lizaveta Grigorievna, about his father’s solemn promise to make him a beggar, and finally about Akulin. For the first time he saw clearly that he was in her passionately in love; the romantic idea of ​​marrying a peasant woman and living by his labors came to his mind, and the more he thought about this decisive action, the more he found prudence in it. For some time, meetings in the grove were stopped due to rainy weather. He wrote to Akulina letter in the clearest handwriting and the most frenzied syllable, announced to her the destruction that threatened them, and immediately offered her his hand. He immediately took the letter to the post office, in a hollow, and went to bed, very pleased with himself. The next day, Alexey, firm in his intention , early in the morning I went to Muromsky in order to have a frank explanation with him. He hoped to incite his generosity and win him over to his side. “Is Grigory Ivanovich at home?” he asked, stopping his horse in front of the porch of the Priluchinsky castle. “No way,” answered the servant; “Grigory Ivanovich deigned to leave in the morning.” "How annoying!" thought Alexey. “Is Lizaveta Grigorievna at home at least?” - “At home, sir.” And Alexey jumped off the horse, gave the reins into the hands of the footman, and went without a report. “Everything will be decided,” he thought, approaching the living room; “I’ll explain it to her myself.” - He came in... and was dumbfounded! Liza... no Akulina, sweet dark Akulina, not in a sundress, but in a white morning dress, sat in front of the window and read his letter; She was so busy that she didn’t hear him enter. Alexey could not resist a joyful exclamation. Lisa shuddered, raised her head, screamed and wanted to run away. He rushed to hold her. “Akulina, Akulina!..” Lisa tried to free herself from him... “Mais laissez-moi donc, monsieur; mais ktes-vous fou?” she repeated, turning away. "Akulina! my friend, Akulina!" he repeated, kissing her hands. Miss Jackson, witnessing this scene, did not know what to think. At that moment the door opened and Grigory Ivanovich entered. "Yeah!" said Muromsky, “yes, it seems that the matter is already completely coordinated...” Readers will relieve me of the unnecessary obligation to describe the denouement.

And according to people here, I can say it very well. Oh, Nastya, dear Nastya! What a nice idea! - And Lisa went to bed with the intention of certainly fulfilling her cheerful assumption.

The next day she began to carry out her plan, sent to buy thick linen, blue Chinese clothes and copper buttons at the market, with Nastya’s help she cut herself a shirt and a sundress, set the whole girl’s room to sewing, and by evening everything was ready. Lisa tried on the new look and admitted in front of the mirror that she had never seemed so nice to herself. She repeated her role, bowed as she walked and then shook her head several times, like clay cats, spoke in a peasant dialect, laughed behind her sleeve, and earned Nastya’s complete approval. One thing made it difficult for her: she tried to walk across the yard barefoot, but the turf pricked her tender feet, and the sand and pebbles seemed unbearable to her. Nastya helped her here too: she took the measurement of Liza’s leg, ran into the field to see Trofim the shepherd and gave him a pair of bast shoes according to that measurement. The next day, before dawn, Lisa had already woken up. The whole house was still asleep. Nastya was waiting for the shepherd outside the gate. The horn began to play and the village herd pulled past the manor's yard. Trofim, passing in front of Nastya, gave her small motley bast shoes and received half a dime as a reward. Liza quietly dressed up as a peasant woman, gave Nastya her instructions in a whisper regarding Miss Jackson, went out onto the back porch and ran through the garden into the field

The dawn shone in the east, and the golden rows of clouds seemed to be waiting for the sun, like courtiers waiting for a sovereign; the clear sky, morning freshness, dew, breeze and birdsong filled Lizy's heart with infantile gaiety; Afraid of some familiar encounter, she seemed to be flying rather than walking. Approaching the grove standing on the border of her father's property, Lisa walked more quietly. Here she should have waited for Alexei. Her heart was beating strongly, without knowing why; but the fear that accompanies our young lepers is also their main charm. Lisa entered the darkness of the grove. A dull, rolling noise greeted the girl. Her gaiety has subsided. Little by little she indulged in sweet reverie. She thought... but is it possible to accurately determine what a seventeen-year-old young lady is thinking, alone, in a grove, at six o’clock on a spring morning? And so she walked, thoughtfully, along the road, shaded on both sides by tall trees, when suddenly a beautiful kicking dog barked at her. Lisa got scared and screamed. At the same time, a voice was heard: tout beu, Sbogr, ici... and a young hunter appeared from behind the bushes. “I suppose, dear,” said Liza, “my dog ​​doesn’t bite.” Liza had already recovered from her fright and knew how to immediately take advantage of the circumstances. “No, master,” she said, pretending to be half-frightened, half-shy, “I’m afraid: she’s so angry, you see; will rush again.” Alexey (the reader already recognized him) meanwhile was looking intently at the young peasant woman. “I will accompany you if you are afraid,” he said to her; “Are you going to let me walk beside you?” - “Is someone interfering? - answered Lisa; “The free will is free, but the road is worldly.” - “Where are you from?” - “From Priluchin; I’m the daughter of Vasily the blacksmith, I’m walking along the mushrooms” (Lisa was carrying the box on a string “And you, master? Tugilovsky, or what?” - “That’s right,” Alexey answered, “I’m the young master’s valet.” Alexey wanted to level out their relationship. But Lisa looked at him and laughed. “But you’re lying,” she said, “you weren’t foolish. I see that you’re a master yourself.” - “Why do you think so?” - “Yes, about everything.” - “However? " - “But how can you not recognize the master and the servant? And he’s dressed differently, and you act differently, and the dog’s name is not ours.” At the time, Alexei liked Liza more. Having gotten used to not standing on ceremony with the pretty villagers, he wanted to hug her; but Liza pushed him away and suddenly assumed such a stern and cold look that although it made Alexei laugh, it deterred him from further attempts. “If you want us to be beaten forward by our friends,” she said with importance, “ So please don’t bother.” - “Who taught you this wisdom? - Alexey asked, laughing, “isn’t Nastinka, my friend, your lady’s girlfriend?” This is how enlightenment spreads!” Lisa felt that she was out of her role, and immediately recovered. “What do you think? - she said; - Don’t I ever beat you in the master’s yard? I suppose: I’ve heard enough and seen enough of everything. However,” she continued, “you can’t pick mushrooms by chatting with you.” Go to one side, master, and I’ll go to the other. We ask for forgiveness...” Lisa wanted to leave, Alexey held her hand. “What is your name, my soul? " “Akulina,” answered Lisa, trying to free her fingers from Alekseeva’s hands; - let me go, master; It’s crumpled and it’s time to go home.” - “Well, my friend Akulina, I will certainly visit your father, Vasily the blacksmith.” - “What are you doing? - Lisa objected with liveliness, - for Christ’s sake, don’t come. When at home they find out that I was chatting alone with the master in the grove, then there will be trouble; my father, Vasily the blacksmith, will beat me to death.” - “Yes, I definitely want to see you again.” - “Well, someday I’ll come here again to buy mushrooms.” - “When?” - “Yes, even tomorrow.” - “Dear Akulina, I would kiss you, but I don’t dare. So tomorrow, at this time, isn’t it?” - "Yes Yes". - “And you won’t deceive me?” - “I won’t deceive you.” - “Please swear.” - “Well, it’s Holy Friday, I’ll come.”

The young people separated. Lisa came out of the forest, crossed the field, crept into the garden and ran headlong to the farm, where Nastya was waiting for her. There she changed clothes, absentmindedly answering the questions of her impatient confidante, and appeared in the living room. The table was set, breakfast was being prepared, and Miss Jackson, already whitewashed and drinking, was slicing thin tartines. Her father praised her for her early walk. “There is nothing healthier,” said Vaughn, “than waking up at dawn.” Here he cited several examples of human longevity, drawn from English magazines, noting that all people who lived more than a hundred years did not drink vodka and got up at dawn in winter and flight. Lisa didn't listen to him. She mentally repeated all the circumstances of the morning meeting, the entire conversation between Akulini and the young hunter, and her conscience began to torment her. In vain did she object to herself that their conversation did not exceed the bounds of decency, that this prank could not have any consequences, her conscience grumbled louder than her reason. The promise she made for the next day worried her most of all: she was completely determined not to keep her solemn oath. But Alexey, having waited for her in vain, could have gone to look for the daughter of Vasily the blacksmith in the village, the real Akulina, a fat, pockmarked girl, and thus guessed about her frivolous mischief. This thought terrified Lisa, and she decided to appear in Akulina’s grove again the next morning.

For his part, Alexei was in admiration, thinking about his new acquaintance all day long; At night, the image of a dark-skinned beauty haunted his imagination in his dreams. Dawn had barely begun to study before he was already dressed. He didn’t give himself time to load the gun, he hung out in the field with his faithful Sbogar and ran to the place of the promised meeting. About half an hour passed in unbearable anticipation for him; Finally, he saw a glimpse of a blue sundress at the borders of the bushes, and rushed to meet sweet Akulini. She smiled at the delight of his gratitude; but Alexey immediately noticed traces of humiliation and anxiety on her face. Vaughn wanted to know why. Lisa admitted that her action seemed frivolous to her, that she repented of it, that this time she did not want to break her word, but that this meeting would be the last, and that she asked him to end the acquaintance, which was not good for anything. can bring them. All this, of course, was said in peasant dialect; but thoughts and feelings, unusual in a simple girl, struck Alexei. Vaughn used all his eloquence in order to ward off Akulina’s intentions; he assured her of the innocence of his desires, promised to never give her a reason to repent, to obey her in everything, he conjured her not to leave him alone and to give her a consolation: to see her alone, even every other day, even twice a week. He spoke in the language of true passion, and at that moment he seemed as if he was in love. Lisa listened to him in silence. “Give me my word,” she finally said, “that you will never look for me in the woods or ask about me. Give me your word not to look for second dates with me, except for those that I myself appoint.” Alexei swore to her on Holy Friday, but she stopped him with a smile. “I don’t need an oath,” said Lisa, “your promise is enough.” After that, they talked amicably, walking together through the forest, until Lisa told him: it’s time. They parted, and Alexey, left alone, could not understand how a simple village girl managed to get the true love over him in two dates. His relations with Akulina had the charms of novelty for him, and although the instructions of the strange peasant woman seemed burdensome to him, the thought of not keeping his word did not even cross his mind. The fact is that Alexey, despite the fatal ring, the mysterious correspondence and the gloomy disappointment, was kind and hearty and had a pure heart, capable of feeling the pleasures of innocence.

Assumption.

The next day she began to carry out her plan, sent to buy thick linen, blue Chinese clothes and copper buttons at the market, with Nastya’s help she cut herself a shirt and a sundress, set the whole girl’s room to sewing, and by evening everything was ready. Lisa tried on the new look and admitted in front of the mirror that she had never seemed so cute to herself. She repeated her role, bowed low as she walked and then shook her head several times, like clay cats, spoke in a peasant dialect, laughed, covering herself with her sleeve, and earned Nastya’s complete approval. One thing made it difficult for her: she tried to walk across the yard barefoot, but the turf pricked her tender feet, and the sand and pebbles seemed unbearable to her. Nastya helped her here too: she took the measurement of Liza’s leg, ran to the field to Trofim the shepherd and ordered him a pair of bast shoes according to that measurement. The next day, before dawn, Lisa had already woken up. The whole house was still asleep. Nastya was waiting for the shepherd outside the gate. The horn began to play and the village herd pulled past the manor's yard. Trofim, passing in front of Nastya, gave her small colorful bast shoes and received half a ruble from her as a reward. Lisa quietly dressed up as a peasant, gave Nastya her instructions regarding Miss Jackson in a whisper, went out onto the back porch and ran through the garden into the field.

The dawn shone in the east, and the golden rows of clouds seemed to be waiting for the sun, like courtiers waiting for a sovereign; the clear sky, morning freshness, dew, breeze and birdsong filled Lisa's heart with infantile gaiety; afraid of some familiar meeting, she seemed not to walk, but to fly. Approaching the grove standing on the border of her father's property, Lisa walked more quietly. Here she was supposed to wait for Alexei. Her heart was beating strongly, without knowing why; but the fear that accompanies our young pranks is also their main charm. Lisa entered the darkness of the grove. A dull, rolling noise greeted the girl. Her gaiety died down. Little by little she indulged in sweet reverie. She thought... but is it possible to accurately determine what a seventeen-year-old young lady is thinking about, alone, in a grove, at six o’clock on a spring morning? And so she walked, lost in thought, along the road, shaded on both sides by tall trees, when suddenly a beautiful kicking dog barked at her. Lisa got scared and screamed. At the same time, a voice was heard: tout beau, Sbogar, ici... and a young hunter appeared from behind the bushes. “I suppose, honey,” he said to Lisa, “my dog ​​doesn’t bite.” Lisa had already recovered from her fright and knew how to immediately take advantage of the circumstances. “No, master,” she said, pretending to be half-frightened, half-shy, “I’m afraid: she’s so angry, you see; will rush again.” Alexey (the reader already recognized him) meanwhile was looking intently at the young peasant woman. “I will accompany you if you are afraid,” he told her; “Will you let me walk beside you?” - “Who’s stopping you? - answered Lisa; “There is free will, but the road is worldly.” - "Where are you from?" - “From Priluchin; I’m the daughter of Vasily the blacksmith, I’m going mushroom hunting” (Lisa was carrying the box on a string). “And you, master? Tugilovsky, or what?” “That’s right,” answered Alexey, “I am the young master’s valet.” Alexey wanted to level out their relationship. But Lisa looked at him and laughed. “You’re lying,” she said, “you’re not attacking a fool.” I see that you are a master yourself.” - “Why do you think so?” - “Yes, on everything.” - “However?” - “How can you not recognize the master and servant? And you’re dressed differently, and you act differently, and you don’t call the dog after us.” Alexey liked Liza more and more from hour to hour. Accustomed to not stand on ceremony with pretty village girls, he was