The oak tree Tolstoy wrote about. The old oak tree, completely transformed, spread out like a tent of luscious

On a stormy autumn day, along a rutted dirt road to a long hut, in one half of which there was a postal station, and in the other a clean room where one could rest, eat and even spend the night, a mud-covered carriage with a half-raised top drove up. On the box of the tarantass sat a strong, serious man in a tightly belted overcoat, and in the tarantass - “a slender old military man in a large cap and in a Nikolaev gray overcoat with a beaver stand-up collar, still black-browed, but with a white mustache that was connected to the same sideburns; his chin was shaved and his whole appearance bore that resemblance to Alexander II, which was so common among the military during his reign; the look was also questioning, stern and at the same time tired.”
When the horses stopped, he got out of the tarantass, ran up to the porch of the hut and turned left, as the coachman told him.
The room was warm, dry and tidy, with a sweet smell of cabbage soup coming from behind the stove damper. The newcomer threw his overcoat onto the bench, took off his gloves and cap, and tiredly ran his hand through his slightly curly hair. There was no one in the upper room, he opened the door and called: “Hey, who’s there!”
A dark-haired woman, also black-browed and also still beautiful beyond her age, entered... with dark fluff on her upper lip and along her cheeks, light as she walked, but plump, with large breasts under a red blouse, with a triangular belly, like a goose’s, under black woolen skirt.” She greeted politely.
The visitor glanced at her rounded shoulders and light legs and asked for a samovar. It turned out that this woman was the owner of the inn. The visitor praised her for her cleanliness. The woman, looking at him inquisitively, said: “I love cleanliness. After all, Nikolai Alekseevich, Nikolai Alekseevich, grew up under the gentlemen, but he didn’t know how to behave decently.” "Hope! You? - he said hastily. - My God, my God!.. Who would have thought! How many years have we not seen each other? About thirty-five?” - “Thirty, Nikolai Alekseevich.” He is excited and asks her how she lived all these years.
How did you live? The gentlemen gave me freedom. She was not married. Why? Yes, because she loved him very much. “Everything passes, my friend,” he muttered. - Love, youth - everything, everything. The story is vulgar, ordinary. Over the years everything goes away.”
For others, maybe, but not for her. She lived it all her life. She knew that his former self had been gone for a long time, that it was as if nothing had happened to him, but she still loved him. It’s too late to reproach her now, but how heartlessly he abandoned her then... How many times did she want to kill herself! “And they deigned to read all the poems to me about all sorts of things” dark alleys“- she added with an unkind smile.” Nikolai Alekseevich remembers how beautiful Nadezhda was. He was good too. “And it was I who gave you my beauty, my fever. How can you forget this.” - “Ah! Everything passes.” “Everything is forgotten.” “Everything passes, but not everything is forgotten.” “Go away,” he said, turning away and approaching the window. “Go away, please.” Pressing the handkerchief to his eyes, he added: “If only God would forgive me.” And you, apparently, forgave." No, she did not forgive him and could never forgive him. She cannot forgive him.
He ordered the horses to be brought, moving away from the window with dry eyes. He, too, had never been happy in his life. Married by Great love, and she abandoned him even more insultingly than he abandoned Nadezhda. He placed so many hopes on his son, but he grew up to be a scoundrel, an insolent man, without honor, without conscience. She came up and kissed his hand, and he kissed hers. Already on the road, he remembered this with shame, and he felt ashamed of this shame.
The coachman says that she watched them from the window. She is a woman - a ward. Gives money in interest, but is fair.
“Yes, of course, the best moments... Truly magical! “The scarlet rose hips were blooming all around, there were dark linden alleys...” What if I had not left her? What nonsense! This same Nadezhda is not the innkeeper, but my wife, the mistress of my St. Petersburg house, the mother of my children?” And, closing his eyes, he shook his head.

Collection of stories “Dark Alleys” by I.A. Bunin wrote far from his homeland, while in France and worried about the consequences October revolution and the difficult years of the First World War. The works included in this cycle are filled with motifs tragic fate person, the inevitability of events and longing for native land. Central theme collection of short stories “Dark Alleys” is a love that turns out to be closely connected with suffering and fatal outcome.

Central to understanding the writer's intention is story of the same name collection "Dark Alleys". It was written in 1938 under the influence of a poem by N.P. Ogarev " An ordinary story", where the image of dark alleys is used, as well as philosophical thoughts L.N. Tolstoy that happiness in life is unattainable, and a person only catches its “lightnings” that need to be appreciated.

Analysis of the work by I.A. Bunin "Dark Alleys"

The plot of the work is based on the meeting of two already elderly people after many years of separation. To be precise, the story talks about 35 years from last parting. Nikolai Alekseevich arrives at the inn, where the owner Nadezhda meets him. The woman calls the hero by name, and he recognizes his former lover in her.

It's passed since then whole life, which the loved ones were destined to spend separately. The whole point is that Nikolai Alekseevich in his youth left a beautiful maid, who then received her freedom from the landowner and became the mistress of the inn. The meeting of two heroes raises a whole storm of feelings, thoughts and experiences inside them. However, the past cannot be returned and Nikolai Alekseevich leaves, imagining how life could have turned out differently if he had not neglected Nadezhda’s feelings. He is sure that he would be happy, he thinks about how she would become his wife, mother of children and mistress of the house in St. Petersburg. True, all this will remain so pipe dreams hero.

Thus, in the story “Dark Alleys” there are three main plot points:

  • The hero's stop at the inn
  • Meeting ex-lovers
  • Reflections on the way after the incident

The first part of the work is an episode before the characters recognize each other. It prevails here portrait characteristic characters. What is significant is social difference between people. For example, Nadezhda addresses the visitor “Your Excellency,” but the hero allows himself “Hey, who’s there.”

The pivotal moment is the meeting that marks the second part of the plot. Here we see a description of feelings, emotions and experiences. Social boundaries are dropped, allowing for greater knowledge characters, contrast their thoughts. For the hero, a meeting with Nadezhda is a rendezvous with his conscience. The reader understands that she has retained her inner integrity. Nikolai Alekseevich, on the contrary, feels his life is useless, aimless, he sees only its ordinariness and vulgarity.

The third part of the story is the actual departure and conversation with the coachman. Social boundaries are important for the hero, which he cannot neglect even for the sake of high feelings. Nikolai Alekseevich is ashamed of his words and revelations, regrets that he kissed the hand of the owner of the inn and ex-lover.

This structure of the plot makes it possible to imagine love and past feelings as a flash that unexpectedly illuminated the ordinary life of Nikolai Alekseevich, who was bored with himself. A story based on the hero's memories is artistic device, which allows the author to talk about familiar things more exciting and make an additional impression on the reader.

In the text of the work there are no instructive intonations, condemnation of the actions of the heroes or, conversely, manifestations of pity for them. The narration is based on a description of the feelings and emotions of the characters, which are revealed to the reader and it is he who has to evaluate what happened.

Characteristics of the main characters of the story “Dark Alleys”

The image of Nadezhda appears in a positive light. We don't learn much about her from the story, but it's enough to draw certain conclusions. The heroine is a former serf, who is now the mistress of a state-owned postal station. Having grown old, she continues to look beautiful, feel light and “beyond her age.” Nadezhda was able to get a good job in life thanks to her intelligence and honesty. The coachman, in a conversation with Nikolai Alekseevich, notes that she is “getting rich, giving money on interest,” i.e. on loan. The heroine is characterized by practicality and enterprise.

She had to go through a lot. The feelings from Nikolai Alekseevich’s act were so strong that Nadezhda admits that she wanted to commit suicide. However, she was able to overcome difficulties and become stronger.

The woman continues to love, but she was unable to forgive the betrayal of her beloved. She boldly declares this to Nikolai Alekseevich. The wisdom of Nadezhda evokes the reader’s sympathy. For example, to the general’s attempts to justify his past actions, she replies that youth passes for everyone, but love never does. These words of the heroine also say that she knows how and can truly love, but this does not bring her happiness.

The image of Nikolai Alekseevich is in many ways contrasted with Nadezhda. He is a nobleman and a general, a representative of high society. He made a good career, but in his personal life the hero is unhappy. His wife left him, and his son grew up impudent and dishonest person. The hero looks tired, while his former lover is full of strength and desire to act. He once gave up love a long time ago and never got to know it, spending his whole life without happiness and pursuing false goals. "Everything passes. Everything is forgotten” - this is the hero’s position in relation to happiness and love.

Nikolai Alekseevich is already about 60 years old, but when he meets Nadezhda, he blushes like a young man. The soldier remembers with shame that he abandoned his beloved, but does he have the strength to correct what happened? No. The hero again chooses the easiest path and leaves.

The character’s spiritual weakness, the inability to distinguish true feelings from “a vulgar, ordinary story” dooms him and Nadezhda to suffering. Nikolai Alekseevich can only remember the past, his love, which “gave him the best moments of his life.”

The love between Nadezhda and Nikolai Alekseevich turns out to be doomed, and the history of their relationship is full of drama. Why did everything happen like this? There are several reasons. This is also the weakness of the hero, who pushed away his loved one and did not see the future in his feelings for her. This is also the role of prejudices in society, which exclude the possibility of a relationship, and especially a marriage, between a nobleman and an ordinary maid.

The difference in views on love also predetermined the dramatic destinies of the heroes. If for Nadezhda, feelings for a loved one mean being true to yourself, driving force, inspiring and helping her in life, then for Nikolai Alekseevich love is a moment, a past story. The irony is that it was this moment, this part of life associated with a former lover, that became the most best moment for all the years.

In cold autumn weather, on one of the big Tula roads, flooded with rain and cut by many black ruts, to a long hut, in one connection there was a state postal station, and in the other a private room, where you could rest or spend the night, dine or ask for a samovar , a carriage covered in mud with the top half-raised, three rather simple horses with their tails tied up from the slush, rolled up. On the box of the tarantass sat a strong man in a tightly belted overcoat, serious and dark-faced, with a sparse pitch beard, looking like an old robber, and in the tarantass a slender old military man in a large cap and in a Nikolaev gray overcoat with a beaver stand-up collar, still black-browed, but with a white mustache that connected with the same sideburns; his chin was shaved and his whole appearance bore that resemblance to Alexander II, which was so common among the military during his reign; the look was also questioning, stern and at the same time tired. When the horses stopped, he threw his leg in a military boot with a straight top out of the tarantass and, holding the hem of his overcoat with his hands in suede gloves, ran up to the porch of the hut. “To the left, Your Excellency,” the coachman shouted rudely from the box, and he, bending slightly on the threshold from his tall, entered the hallway, then into the upper room to the left. The upper room was warm, dry and tidy: a new golden image in the left corner, under it a table covered with a clean, harsh tablecloth, behind the table there were cleanly washed benches; the kitchen stove, which occupied the far right corner, was new and white with chalk; Closer stood something like an ottoman, covered with piebald blankets, its blade resting against the side of the stove; from behind the stove damper there was a sweet smell of cabbage soup - boiled cabbage, beef and bay leaves. The newcomer threw off his overcoat on the bench and found himself even slimmer in just a uniform and boots, then he took off his gloves and cap and, with a tired look, ran his pale, thin hand over his head - White hair His hair was slightly curly at the temples and at the corners of his eyes; his handsome, elongated face with dark eyes bore here and there small traces of smallpox. There was no one in the upper room, and he shouted with hostility, opening the door to the hallway:- Hey, who's there? Immediately after that, a dark-haired woman, also black-browed and also still beautiful beyond her age, entered the room, looking like an elderly gypsy, with dark fluff on her upper lip and along her cheeks, light on her feet, but plump, with large breasts under a red blouse, with a triangular, goose-like belly under a black woolen skirt. “Welcome, Your Excellency,” she said. — Would you like to eat or would you like a samovar? The visitor glanced briefly at her rounded shoulders and light legs in worn red Tatar shoes and answered abruptly, inattentively: - Samovar. Is the mistress here or are you serving? - Mistress, Your Excellency. - So you’re holding it yourself? - Yes sir. Herself. - What’s so? Are you a widow, are you running the business yourself? - Not a widow, Your Excellency, but you have to live somehow. And I love to manage. - So-so. This is good. And how clean and pleasant your place is. The woman looked at him inquisitively all the time, squinting slightly. “And I love cleanliness,” she answered. “After all, I grew up under the masters, but I don’t know how to behave decently, Nikolai Alekseevich.” He quickly straightened up, opened his eyes and blushed. - Hope! You? - he said hastily. “I, Nikolai Alekseevich,” she answered. - My God, my God! - he said, sitting down on the bench and looking at her point-blank. - Who would have thought! How many years have we not seen each other? Thirty-five years old? - Thirty, Nikolai Alekseevich. I’m forty-eight now, and you’re nearly sixty, I think? - Like this... My God, how strange! - What's strange, sir? - But everything, everything... How don’t you understand! His fatigue and absent-mindedness disappeared, he stood up and walked decisively around the room, looking at the floor. Then he stopped and, blushing through his gray hair, began to say: “I haven’t known anything about you since then.” How did you get here? Why didn't you stay with the masters? “The gentlemen gave me my freedom soon after you.” -Where did you live later? - It's a long story, sir. - You say you weren’t married?- No, I wasn’t. - Why? With such beauty as you had? - I couldn’t do it. - Why couldn’t she? What do you want to say? - What is there to explain? You probably remember how much I loved you. He blushed to tears and, frowning, walked again. “Everything passes, my friend,” he muttered. - Love, youth - everything, everything. The story is vulgar, ordinary. Over the years everything goes away. How does it say this in the book of Job? “You will remember how water flowed through.” - What does God give to whom, Nikolai Alekseevich. Everyone's youth passes, but love is another matter. He raised his head and, stopping, smiled painfully: “You couldn’t love me all your life!” - So, she could. No matter how much time passed, she lived alone. I knew that you had not been the same for a long time, that it was as if nothing had happened for you, but... It’s too late to reproach me now, but, really, you abandoned me very heartlessly - how many times did I want to lay hands on myself out of resentment from one , not to mention everything else. After all, there was a time, Nikolai Alekseevich, when I called you Nikolenka, and you remember me? And they deigned to read all the poems to me about all sorts of “dark alleys,” she added with an unkind smile. - Oh, how good you were! - he said, shaking his head. - How hot, how beautiful! What a figure, what eyes! Do you remember how everyone looked at you? - I remember, sir. You were also excellent. And it was I who gave you my beauty, my passion. How can you forget this? - A! Everything passes. Everything is forgotten. “Everything passes, but not everything is forgotten.” “Go away,” he said, turning away and going to the window. - Please go away. And, taking out the handkerchief and pressing it to his eyes, he added quickly: - If only God would forgive me. And you, apparently, have forgiven. She walked to the door and paused: - No, Nikolai Alekseevich, I didn’t forgive you. Since our conversation touched on our feelings, I’ll say frankly: I could never forgive you. Just as I didn’t have anything more valuable than you in the world at that time, so I didn’t have anything later. That's why I can't forgive you. Well, why remember, they don’t carry the dead from the graveyard. “Yes, yes, there’s no need, order the horses to be brought,” he answered, moving away from the window with a stern face. - I’ll tell you one thing: I’ve never been happy in my life, please don’t think about it. Sorry that I may be hurting your pride, but I’ll tell you frankly, I loved my wife madly. And she cheated on me, abandoned me even more insultingly than I did you. He adored his son, and while he was growing up, he didn’t have any hopes for him! And what came out was a scoundrel, a spendthrift, an insolent person, without a heart, without honor, without a conscience... However, all this is also the most ordinary, vulgar story. Be healthy, dear friend. I think that I, too, have lost in you the most precious thing I had in life. She came up and kissed his hand, and he kissed hers. - Order it served... When we drove on, he thought gloomily: “Yes, how lovely she was! Magically beautiful! With shame I remembered my last words and that he kissed her hand, and was immediately ashamed of his shame. “Isn’t it true that she gave me the best moments of my life?” Towards sunset the pale sun appeared. The coachman trotted along, constantly changing the black ruts, choosing less dirty ones, and also thought something. Finally he said with serious rudeness: “And she, Your Excellency, kept looking out the window as we left.” That's right, how long have you known her?- It's been a long time, Klim. - Baba is a crazy person. And everyone, they say, is getting richer. Gives money in growth. - This means nothing. - It doesn’t mean that! Who doesn't want to live better! If you give with conscience, there is little harm. And she, they say, is fair about this. But cool! If you didn’t give it on time, you blame yourself. - Yes, yes, blame yourself... Please hurry, so as not to be late for the train... The low sun shone yellow on the empty fields, the horses splashed smoothly through the puddles. He looked at the flashing horseshoes, knitting his black eyebrows, and thought: “Yes, blame yourself. Yes, of course, the best moments. And not the best, but truly magical! “The scarlet rose hips were blooming all around, there were dark linden alleys...” But, my God, what would have happened next? What if I hadn't left her? What nonsense! This same Nadezhda is not the innkeeper, but my wife, the mistress of my St. Petersburg house, the mother of my children?” And, closing his eyes, he shook his head. October 20, 1938

Title of the work: Dark alleys
Ivan Alekseevich Bunin
Year of writing: 1938
Genre of the work: story
First publication: 1943, New York
Main characters: innkeeper Hope and an elderly military man Nikolai Alekseevich

Ivan Alekseevich Bunin is known as a master of love prose, storyline one of a whole series romantic works will reveal summary story “Dark Alleys” for a reader’s diary.

Plot

Autumn. A chaise with a gangster-looking cab driver and an elderly military man in the passenger seat stops near a small inn in search of accommodation for the night.

Travelers find themselves in a clean, bright and cozy room. At the call of master Nikolai Alekseevich, the hostess of the guest hut, Nadezhda, came out: no longer young, but still very pleasant in appearance. During a casual conversation, it turned out that the master and the hostess were old acquaintances.

More than 30 years ago, Nikolai Alekseevich and Nadezhda met, they were connected tender feelings, but shared different social status in society. She is a simple courtyard girl, and he is a young scion from a noble family. The young master loved, but did not marry, a commoner. Nadezhda remained alone all her life, unable to forget her lover and their romantic dates. She did not forgive him for the offense and, as it turned out in a further conversation, life for broken heart Nikolai Alekseevich’s girls were punished in full. He never found happiness: his wife left him, and his son grew up to be a scoundrel. Saying goodbye, Nadezhda and the master kissed each other’s hands. Nikolai Alekseevich realized that better days in his life they passed next to this simple woman. And Nadezhda looked at the trail of the retreating cart for a long time.

Conclusion (my opinion)

History teaches the reader to understand how insignificant social inequalities are, public opinion and other obstacles when it comes to love. A wrong choice can make a person unhappy for the rest of his life, as happened with the heroes of the story.

Option 1

On a stormy autumn day, along a rutted dirt road to a long hut, in one half of which there was a postal station, and in the other a clean room where one could rest, eat and even spend the night, a mud-covered carriage with a half-raised top drove up. On the box of the tarantass sat a strong, serious man in a tightly belted overcoat, and in the tarantass - “a slender old military man in a large cap and in a Nikolaev gray overcoat with a beaver stand-up collar, still black-browed, but with a white mustache that was connected to the same sideburns; his chin was shaved and his whole appearance bore that resemblance to Alexander II, which was so common among the military during his reign; the look was also questioning, stern and at the same time tired.”
When the horses stopped, he got out of the tarantass, ran up to the porch of the hut and turned left, as the coachman told him.
The room was warm, dry and tidy, with a sweet smell of cabbage soup coming from behind the stove damper. The newcomer threw his overcoat onto the bench, took off his gloves and cap, and tiredly ran his hand through his slightly curly hair. There was no one in the upper room, he opened the door and called: “Hey, who’s there!”
A dark-haired woman, also black-browed and also still beautiful beyond her age, entered... with dark fluff on her upper lip and along her cheeks, light as she walked, but plump, with large breasts under a red blouse, with a triangular belly, like a goose’s, under black woolen skirt.” She greeted politely.
The visitor glanced at her rounded shoulders and light legs and asked for a samovar. It turned out that this woman was the owner of the inn. The visitor praised her for her cleanliness. The woman, looking at him inquisitively, said: “I love cleanliness. After all, Nikolai Alekseevich, Nikolai Alekseevich, grew up under the gentlemen, but he didn’t know how to behave decently.” "Hope! You? - he said hastily. - My God, my God!.. Who would have thought! How many years have we not seen each other? About thirty-five?” - “Thirty, Nikolai Alekseevich.” He is excited and asks her how she lived all these years.
How did you live? The gentlemen gave me freedom. She was not married. Why? Yes, because she loved him very much. “Everything passes, my friend,” he muttered. - Love, youth - everything, everything. The story is vulgar, ordinary. Over the years everything goes away.”
For others, maybe, but not for her. She lived it all her life. She knew that his former self had been gone for a long time, that it was as if nothing had happened to him, but she still loved him. It’s too late to reproach her now, but how heartlessly he abandoned her then... How many times did she want to kill herself! “And they deigned to read all the poems to me about all sorts of “dark alleys,” she added with an unkind smile.” Nikolai Alekseevich remembers how beautiful Nadezhda was. He was good too. “And it was I who gave you my beauty, my passion. How can you forget this?” - "A! Everything passes. Everything is forgotten.” - “Everything passes, but not everything is forgotten.” “Go away,” he said, turning away and going to the window. “Go away, please.” Pressing the handkerchief to his eyes, he added: “If only God would forgive me. And you, apparently, have forgiven.” No, she did not forgive him and could never forgive him. She can't forgive him. He ordered the horses to be brought, moving away from the window with dry eyes. He, too, had never been happy in his life. He married for great love, and she abandoned him even more insultingly than he abandoned Nadezhda. He placed so many hopes on his son, but he grew up to be a scoundrel, an insolent man, without honor, without conscience. She came up and kissed his hand, and he kissed hers. Already on the road, he remembered this with shame, and he felt ashamed of this shame. The coachman says that she watched them from the window. She is a woman - a ward. Gives money in interest, but is fair. “Yes, of course, the best moments... Truly magical! “The scarlet rose hips were blooming all around, there were dark linden alleys...” What if I had not left her? What nonsense! This same Nadezhda is not the innkeeper, but my wife, the mistress of my St. Petersburg house, the mother of my children?” And, closing his eyes, he shook his head.

Option 2

On a stormy autumn day, along a rutted dirt road to a long hut, in one half of which there was a postal station, and in the other a clean room where one could rest, eat and even spend the night, a mud-covered carriage with a half-raised top drove up. On the box of the tarantass sat a strong, serious man in a tightly belted overcoat, and in the tarantass - “a slender old military man in a large cap and a Nikolaev gray overcoat with a beaver stand-up collar, still black-browed, but with a white mustache that was connected to the same sideburns; his chin was shaved and his whole appearance bore that resemblance to Alexander II, which was so common among the military during his reign; the look was also questioning, stern and at the same time tired.”
When the horses stopped, he got out of the tarantass, ran up to the porch of the hut and turned left, as the coachman told him. The room was warm, dry and tidy, with a sweet smell of cabbage soup coming from behind the stove damper. The newcomer threw his overcoat onto the bench, took off his gloves and cap, and tiredly ran his hand through his slightly curly hair. There was no one in the upper room, he opened the door and called: “Hey, who’s there!” A dark-haired woman, also black-browed and also still beautiful beyond her age, entered... with dark fluff on her upper lip and along her cheeks, light as she walked, but plump, with large breasts under a red blouse, with a triangular belly, like a goose’s, under a black woolen blouse. skirt." She greeted politely.
The visitor glanced briefly at her rounded shoulders and light legs and asked for a samovar. It turned out that this woman was the owner of the inn. The visitor praised her for her cleanliness. The woman, looking at him inquisitively, said: “I love cleanliness. After all, Nikolai Alekseevich, Nikolai Alekseevich, grew up under the gentlemen, but he didn’t know how to behave decently.” "Hope! You? - he said hastily. - My God, my God!.. Who would have thought! How many years have we not seen each other? About thirty-five?” - “Thirty, Nikolai Alekseevich.” He is excited and asks her how she lived all these years. How did you live? The gentlemen gave me freedom. She was not married. Why? Yes, because she loved him very much. “Everything passes, my friend,” he muttered. - Love, youth - everything, everything. The story is vulgar, ordinary. Over the years everything goes away." For others, maybe, but not for her. She lived it all her life. She knew that his former self had been gone for a long time, that it was as if nothing had happened to him, but she still loved him. It’s too late to reproach her now, but how heartlessly he abandoned her then... How many times did she want to kill herself! “And they deigned to read all the poems to me about all sorts of ‘dark alleys,’” she added with an unkind smile.” Nikolai Alekseevich remembers how beautiful Nadezhda was. He was good too. “And it was I who gave you my beauty, my passion. How can you forget this?” - "A! Everything passes. Everything is forgotten." - “Everything passes, but not everything is forgotten.” “Go away,” he said, turning away and going to the window. “Go away, please.” Pressing the handkerchief to his eyes, he added: “If only God would forgive me. And you, apparently, have forgiven.” No, she did not forgive him and could never forgive him. She can't forgive him. He ordered the horses to be brought, moving away from the window with dry eyes. He, too, had never been happy in his life. He married for great love, and she abandoned him even more insultingly than he abandoned Nadezhda. He placed so many hopes on his son, but he grew up to be a scoundrel, an insolent man, without honor, without conscience. She came up and kissed his hand, and he kissed hers. Already on the road, he remembered this with shame, and he felt ashamed of this shame. The coachman says that she watched them from the window. She is a woman - a ward. Gives money in interest, but is fair. “Yes, of course, the best moments... Truly magical! “The scarlet rose hips were blooming all around, there were dark linden alleys…” What if I hadn’t abandoned her? What nonsense! This same Nadezhda is not the innkeeper, but my wife, the mistress of my St. Petersburg house, the mother of my children?” And, closing his eyes, he shook his head.