An extraordinary event, or a passage in a passage. Crocodile

This work was written by Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky in 1864, and published in 1865. The narrator of “Crocodile” told us this story.

"Crocodile": summary

In St. Petersburg Passage, to a store owned by a certain German, a large crocodile was brought for display. One afternoon, an official named Ivan Matveevich, his beautiful wife Elena Ivanovna and the narrator (their close friend) go to look at this crocodile. The amazing incident that happened in Passage is the subject of the story.

When Ivan Matveevich began to tickle the crocodile's nose with his glove, he somehow managed to swallow it. Then the rest of the discouraged spectators began to demand to “rip open” the crocodile’s belly, but the nasty German not only refused to do this, but began to demand monetary compensation from the guests, since they “fed” his crocodile with the affectionate name Karlchen such poison that he could die from it.

Since the air was filled with “Rip it up!” Rip it up!” which reminded the visitors of the Passage about the flogging of peasants, a bearer of “progressive” beliefs appeared in the shop, who began to talk about the inadmissibility of such a “retrograde” measure. Here Ivan Matveyevich suddenly spoke from the crocodile, who does not agree to rip open the crocodile’s belly without naming the amount of compensation to the owner, because “without economic compensation, it is difficult in our age of trade crisis to rip open the crocodile’s belly for nothing, and meanwhile the question seems inevitable: what will the owner take for his crocodile ? and with it another: who will pay? for you know I have no means.” At the same time, he claims that until the money issue is resolved, it is better for him to stay in his belly, since it is “warm and soft” here, although it smells like rubber.

The narrator takes Elena Ivanovna home, and she becomes very excited, looks even younger and more beautiful than usual, hints that she is now a widow... A little later she starts talking about divorce - since “a husband should live at home, not in a crocodile” .

The narrator goes for advice to his colleague Timofey Semyonovich. He speaks in the spirit that he had long assumed that something like this might happen, since Ivan Matveyevich always talked about some kind of “progress”, and therefore, because of his arrogance, he found himself in the crocodile’s belly. At the same time, he wisely advises not to talk about the crocodile at the service - after all, Ivan Matveyevich, as everyone knows, must go on vacation abroad for three months.

Various St. Petersburg newspapers are making a fuss about this extraordinary incident. They say that Russia has not yet learned how to treat animals humanely. Wanting to see how people perceive this incident, the narrator wraps himself in an overcoat and goes to Passage, where, as he has a presentiment, a stampede has formed...

This is the plot outline of this story. In it, Dostoevsky does not prefer a “violent” ending, but breaks off the narrative, giving free rein to the reader’s imagination.

“Crocodile” (Dostoevsky): analysis of the story

It is noteworthy that the narrator, on whose behalf the story is told, is a type of newspaper reporter scouring the city in search of news. At the same time, Dostoevsky slightly changes this type of newspaperman. This, of course, is not a direct participant in the events, it is an eyewitness who is near the main characters and observes what is happening to them. This is, so to speak, a “half-character” who interviews full-fledged characters. When the hero of the story, Ivan Matveevich, finds himself in the belly of a crocodile, he tells the narrator that he wants to use him as a secretary, thus defining the function that the narrator performs in this story.

In “Demons” and “The Brothers Karamazov” the same “half-character” (“I”) will also provide information about what happened. All of Dostoevsky's literature has the character of a news chronicle, which is also manifested in the image of the narrator.

His works 1862-1865 (“A bad joke”, “Winter notes on summer impressions”, “Notes from the Underground”, etc.) Dostoevsky published in the magazines “Time” and “Epoch” that he edited. All these works are marked by a polemical charge - they are imbued with irony and “feuilletonny”. "The Crocodile" (1865) belongs to the same series - this "fiction" prose clearly reflects the controversies and journalistic discussions of the time.

In Russia in the 1860s, which began to implement numerous social reforms (primarily the abolition of serfdom), there was a high degree of discussion, and, of course, educated people in St. Petersburg put forward a variety of theories, which are reflected in the fierce debate that magazines waged among themselves .

“Vremya” and then “Epoch” unfurled the banner of “pochvennichestvo” - a somewhat amorphous form of Russian patriotism. The “ears” of Dostoevsky the polemicist stick out everywhere in “Crocodile”. He could not be satisfied with the role of a magazine critic. Therefore, he summarized his opponents from the progressive “Contemporary” into one person, skillfully putting into his mouth the phraseology inherent in those topics and introducing it into the fabric of his anecdotal feuilleton narrative. The narrator repeatedly notes that Ivan Matveyevich’s voice from the belly of the crocodile sounds as if from afar, which was supposed to once again emphasize the separation of the “progressive party” from reality. In the speeches of the narrator himself, there are often newspaper quotes - long and producing a comic impression - which is an integral part of the author's intention. Scientists from the Institute of Russian Literature (“Pushkin House”) conducted detailed studies of the magazine polemics of those years and showed who exactly these or those barbs appearing in the speeches of the characters in the story were addressed to. From these comments it is clear that “Crocodile” is a work directed primarily against the progressives from Sovremennik.

The voice of Ivan Matveevich coming from the belly of the crocodile is a real public speech aimed at “improving the fate of all mankind.” It is clear that in this passage Dostoevsky ridicules the economist Chernyshevsky, the spiritual leader of Sovremennik, who was arrested by the authorities.

Immediately after the publication of “Crocodile,” rumors began to circulate that in this story Dostoevsky maliciously ridiculed the sufferer Chernyshevsky. Fyodor Mikhailovich completely denied this (“Diary of a Writer,” 1873, “Something Personal”), but it is clear that he had such an intention. The prototype of Elena Ivanovna, the wife of Ivan Matveevich, is Olga Chernyshevskaya.

Chernyshevsky expressed his ideas in the utopian novel “What is to be done?” (1863). In this work, he repeatedly emphasizes: all human behavior can be explained from the point of view of “benefit”; in order for a person’s life to become more joyful, one should only encourage him to perform actions consistent with this goal; If, in accordance with this principle, this understanding of “egoism” is given vent, then society will become healthy. Wasn’t it this optimistic utilitarianism that Dostoevsky mocked in Notes from Underground?

We see the continuation of this controversy in the caricature of Ivan Matveevich from “Crocodile”. His speeches addressed to all humanity, heard from the crocodile’s belly, perhaps parody Chernyshevsky, who wrote “What is to be done?” while in a prison cell.

The broken, feuilleton style of “Crocodile” overturns the reader’s established ideas about Dostoevsky. It is usually believed that Fyodor Mikhailovich is a purely serious writer who is busy discussing metaphysical problems. Of course, in the broad sense of the word, Dostoevsky is a writer whose work is centered on such religious problems as the salvation of man, the existence of God and the existence of science, etc. At the same time, he also has works of a more “down-to-earth” type, where the broken style dominates and where the writer aims to make the reader laugh. And this side was manifested quite clearly from the very beginning of his work.

When Dostoevsky was still at the very beginning of his writing career, he was attracted not only by the historical plays of Schiller and Pushkin, but also by vaudeville and feuilleton. He read with great pleasure the numerous vaudevilles published in the theater magazine with which his older brother Mikhail collaborated, and he also adored the feuilletonist Lucien, inspired by Balzac in Lost Illusions.

The inner world of an unlucky petty official rejected by his colleagues was the main interest of the young Dostoevsky (“Poor People”, “The Double”). But the material for this serious topic also included those petty street gossips that could be heard on the streets of St. Petersburg. And this was reflected in Dostoevsky’s literary preferences. “The Double” is written in a “heavenly” way—its style is exaggerated and unnatural. “Mr. Prokharchin” is in the style of an anecdote that suddenly makes the reader burst out laughing. And this is because Fyodor Mikhailovich liked vaudeville works. "Crocodile" continues this funny tradition of Dostoevsky.

The story "Crocodile"

The next work is Dostoevsky's short story "Crocodile", written in a satirical direction, which vividly paints a picture of social life.

The plot of the work is fantastic. The official, Ivan Matveevich, is swallowed by a crocodile, and he realizes that everything is not so bad. He can influence society in the skin of an animal because people pay attention to him. Ivan Matveevich says:

“But since it is difficult, even for a crocodile, to digest a person like me, then, of course, he must at the same time feel some heaviness in his stomach - which, however, he does not have - and that’s why, so as not to cause unnecessary pain to the monster, I rarely toss and turn from side to side; and even though I could toss and turn, I don’t do it out of humanity. This is the only drawback of my current position, and in an allegorical sense, Timofey Semyonitch is fair in calling me a couch potato. But I will prove that lying on your side - not only that - only lying on your side can you turn the fate of humanity around. All the great ideas and trends in our newspapers and magazines are obviously produced by couch potatoes; that's why they call them armchair ideas, but they don't care what they call it! "I will now invent a whole social system, and - you won't believe - how easy it is! You just have to retire somewhere far away in a corner or even get into a crocodile, close your eyes, and you will immediately invent a whole paradise for all mankind" (T. V C 197)

This passage gives two definitions of journalists. First: that they do not toss and turn in the mouth of a crocodile based on humanity. And the second: all journalistic ideas are “armchair”. As for the first, we can say that the crocodile is the government, and the media exist peacefully at their side, trying to toss and turn as little as possible, that is, to interfere with the government in any way. And the second conclusion of the author is a hint that journalistic ideas, for the most part, are “sucked out of thin air.” They lock themselves in their offices and wait for the information to come into their hands. They don’t search, they don’t investigate, they don’t go into the essence of what’s happening. Dostoevsky, in this passage, is very skeptical about the work of his colleagues.

The following excerpt is presented to us by a conversation between the author and an official:

“My friend, what about freedom?” I said, wanting to fully know his opinion. “After all, you are, so to speak, in prison, while a person should enjoy freedom.”

“You’re stupid,” he answered. - Wild people love independence, wise people love order, but there is no order.

Ivan Matveich, have mercy and mercy!

Shut up and listen! - he squealed in annoyance that I interrupted him. “I have never been so inspired as I am now.” In my cramped refuge I am afraid of one thing - the literary criticism of thick magazines and the whistling of our satirical newspapers. I'm afraid that frivolous visitors, fools and envious people and nihilists in general will make me laugh. But I will take action. I look forward to tomorrow's public reviews, and most importantly, the newspapers' opinions. Report about the newspapers tomorrow" (T. V C. 198-199)

If we decided to take the image of a crocodile as the government, then it follows that it is afraid of journalistic opinion. It is very valuable and necessary for her, which is why the authorities subject the media to such pressure of censorship and control. And they are happy. “Wise people love order,” and who will arrange it for them except the king?

Dostoevsky writes that journalism is not free, its policies are too liberal, and it does not want to change. Corruption in this regard will only flourish.

Fedor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky

Crocodile

AN UNUSUAL EVENT, OR PASSAGE IN A PASSAGE, a fair story about how one gentleman, of a certain age and of a certain appearance, was swallowed alive by a passage crocodile, all without a trace, and what came of it.

Oh, Lambert! Ou est Lambert?

As-tu vu Lambert?

This thirteenth of January of the current sixty-fifth year, at half past twelve in the afternoon, Elena Ivanovna, the wife of Ivan Matveich, my educated friend, colleague and partly distant relative, wished to see the crocodile shown for a certain fee in the Passage. Having already in his pocket his ticket for traveling abroad (not so much because of illness as out of curiosity), and consequently, already considered on leave from work and, therefore, being completely free that morning, Ivan Matveich not only did not prevent the irresistible desire his wife, but even he himself was kindled with curiosity. “Great idea,” he said contentedly, “let’s examine the crocodile!” When going to Europe, it’s not a bad idea to get acquainted with the natives who inhabit it on the spot,” and with these words, taking his wife by the arm, he immediately went with her to Passage. I, as is my custom, stuck close to them - in the form of a house friend. Never before have I seen Ivan Matveich in a more pleasant mood than on that memorable morning for me - it is true that we do not know our fate in advance! Entering the Passage, he immediately began to admire the splendor of the building, and when he approached the store where the monster, newly brought to the capital, was displayed, he himself wanted to pay a quarter to the crocodile for me, which had never happened to him before. Entering the small room, we noticed that in addition to the crocodile, it also contained parrots from a foreign breed of cockatoo and, in addition, a group of monkeys in a special cabinet in the recess. At the very entrance, against the left wall, there stood a large tin box in the shape of a bathtub, covered with a strong iron mesh, and at the bottom there was an inch of water. In this shallow puddle, a huge crocodile was preserved, lying like a log, completely motionless and, apparently, having lost all its abilities from our damp climate, inhospitable to foreigners. This monster did not arouse any particular curiosity in any of us at first.

So it's a crocodile! - Elena Ivanovna said in a voice of regret and in a sing-song voice, “and I thought that he... was someone else!”

Most likely, she thought it was diamond. The German who came out to us, the owner, the owner of the crocodile, looked at us with an extremely proud look.

“He is right,” Ivan Matveich whispered to me, “for he realizes that he is the only one in all of Russia who is now showing a crocodile.”

I also attribute this completely nonsensical remark to the overly complacent mood that possessed Ivan Matveich, who in other cases was very envious.

It seems to me that your crocodile is not alive,” Elena Ivanovna said again, piqued by the owner’s intractability, and turning to him with a graceful smile in order to bow down this rude man, a maneuver so characteristic of women.

“Oh, no, madam,” he answered in broken Russian and immediately, lifting the mesh of the box halfway, began poking the crocodile in the head with a stick.

Then the insidious monster, in order to show its signs of life, slightly moved its paws and tail, raised its snout and let out something like a prolonged sniffle.

Well, don't be angry, Karlchen! - the German said affectionately, satisfied in his pride.

What a nasty crocodile! “I was even scared,” Elena Ivanovna stammered even more flirtatiously, “now I’ll see him in my dreams.”

But he won’t bite you in your sleep, madam,” the German picked up haberdashery and, first of all, laughed at the wit of his words, but none of us answered him.

Let’s go, Semyon Semyonich,” Elena Ivanovna continued, addressing exclusively me, “let’s take a look at the monkeys.” I really like monkeys; some of them are so sweet... and the crocodile is terrible.

“Oh, don’t be afraid, my friend,” Ivan Matveich shouted after us, pleasantly brave in front of his wife. “This sleepy inhabitant of the pharaoh’s kingdom will not do anything to us,” and remained by the box. Moreover, taking his glove, he began to tickle the crocodile’s nose with it, wanting, as he admitted later, to make him sniffle again. The owner followed Elena Ivanovna, like a lady, to the closet with monkeys.

Fedor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky

Crocodile

An extraordinary event, or Passage within Passage

a fair story about how one gentleman, of a certain age and a certain appearance, was swallowed alive by a passing crocodile, completely without a trace, and what came of it

Oh Lambert! Où est Lambert? As-tu vu Lambert? 1

1 Hey Lambert! Where is Lambert? Have you seen Lambert? (French)

A fair story about how one gentleman, of a certain age and a certain appearance, was swallowed alive by a passage crocodile, completely without a trace, and what came of it.

I

This thirteenth of January of the current sixty-fifth year, at half past twelve in the afternoon, Elena Ivanovna, the wife of Ivan Matveich, my educated friend, colleague and partly distant relative, wished to see the crocodile shown for a certain fee in the Passage. Having already in his pocket his ticket for traveling abroad (not so much due to illness as out of curiosity) - and consequently, already considered on leave from work and, therefore, being completely free that morning, Ivan Matveich not only did not prevent the insurmountable the desire of his wife, but even he himself was kindled with curiosity. “Great idea,” he said complacently, “let’s examine the crocodile!” When going to Europe, it’s not a bad idea to get acquainted with the natives who inhabit it on the spot,” and with these words, taking his wife by the arm, he immediately went with her to Passage. I, as is my custom, stuck close to them - in the form of a house friend. Never before have I seen Ivan Matveich in a more pleasant mood than on that memorable morning for me - it is true that we do not know our fate in advance! Entering the Passage, he immediately began to admire the splendor of the building, and approaching the store in which the monster, newly brought to the capital, was displayed, he himself wanted to pay a quarter to the crocodile for me, which had never happened to him before. Entering the small room, we noticed that in In addition to the crocodile, there are also parrots from a foreign breed of cockatoo and, in addition, a group of monkeys in a special cabinet in the recesses. At the very entrance, against the left wall, there was a large tin box in the shape of a bathtub, covered with a strong iron mesh, and at the bottom there was an inch of water. In this shallow puddle, a huge crocodile was preserved, lying like a log, completely motionless and, apparently, having lost all its abilities from our damp climate, inhospitable to foreigners. This monster did not arouse any particular curiosity in any of us at first.

Dostoevsky. Crocodile. Audiobook

- So it’s a crocodile! - Elena Ivanovna said in a voice of regret and in a sing-song voice, “and I thought that he... was someone else!”

Most likely, she thought it was diamond. The German who came out to us, the owner, the owner of the crocodile, looked at us with an extremely proud look.

“He’s right,” Ivan Matveich whispered to me, “for he realizes that he’s the only one in all of Russia who is now showing a crocodile.”

I also attribute this completely nonsensical remark to the overly complacent mood that possessed Ivan Matveich, who in other cases was very envious.

“It seems to me that your crocodile is not alive,” Elena Ivanovna said again, piqued by the owner’s intractability, and turning to him with a graceful smile in order to bow down this rude man, a maneuver so characteristic of women.

“Oh no, madam,” he answered in broken Russian and immediately, lifting the mesh of the box halfway, began poking the crocodile in the head with a stick.

Then the insidious monster, in order to show its signs of life, slightly moved its paws and tail, raised its snout and let out something like a long snore.

- Well, don’t be angry, Karlchen! – the German said affectionately, satisfied in his pride.

- What a disgusting crocodile! I was even scared, Elena Ivanovna stammered even more flirtatiously, “now I’ll see him in my dreams.”

“But he won’t bite you in your sleep, madam,” the German picked up haberdashery and, first of all, laughed at the wit of his words, but none of us answered him.

“Come on, Semyon Semyonich,” Elena Ivanovna continued, addressing exclusively me, “let’s take a look at the monkeys.” I really like monkeys; some of them are so sweet... and the crocodile is terrible.

“Oh, don’t be afraid, my friend,” Ivan Matveich shouted after us, pleasantly brave in front of his wife. “This sleepy inhabitant of the pharaoh’s kingdom will not do anything to us,” and remained by the box. Moreover, taking his glove, he began to tickle the crocodile’s nose with it, wanting, as he admitted later, to make him sniffle again. The owner followed Elena Ivanovna, like a lady, to the closet with monkeys.

Thus, everything went perfectly, and nothing could be foreseen. Elena Ivanovna even enjoyed herself to the point of playfulness with the monkeys and seemed to give herself entirely to them. She screamed with pleasure, constantly turning to me, as if not wanting to pay any attention to the owner, and laughed at the similarity she noticed between these monkeys and her short acquaintances and friends. I was also amused, because the similarity was undeniable. The German owner did not know whether to laugh or not, and therefore in the end he completely frowned. And at that very moment, suddenly a terrible, I might even say, unnatural scream shook the room. Not knowing what to think, I froze on the spot at first; but, noticing that Elena Ivanovna was already screaming, he quickly turned around and - what did I see! I saw - oh my God! - I saw the unfortunate Ivan Matveich in the terrible jaws of a crocodile, intercepted by them across the body, already lifted horizontally into the air and desperately dangling his legs in it. Then a moment - and he was gone. But I will describe it in detail, because I stood motionless the whole time and managed to see the entire process taking place in front of me with such attention and curiosity that I don’t even remember. “For,” I thought at that fateful moment, “what if all this had happened to me instead of Ivan Matveich - what a nuisance it would have been for me!” But to the point. The crocodile began by turning poor Ivan Matveich in his terrible jaws towards himself with his feet, and first swallowed the very feet; then, burping a little Ivan Matveich, who was trying to jump out and was clinging to the box with his hands, again pulled him into himself above the waist. Then, burping again, he swallowed again and again. Thus, Ivan Matveich apparently disappeared before our eyes. Finally, having finally swallowed, the crocodile absorbed all of my educated friend, and this time without a trace. On the surface of the crocodile one could notice how Ivan Matveich with all his forms walked through its interior. I was already getting ready to scream again, when suddenly fate once again wanted to play a treacherous joke on us: the crocodile strained, probably choking from the enormity of the object he had swallowed, again opened his entire terrible mouth, and from it, in the form of a last belch, suddenly jumped out for one second the head of Ivan Matveich, with a desperate expression on his face, and his glasses instantly fell off his nose to the bottom of the box. It seemed that this desperate head jumped out just to take one last look at all the objects and mentally say goodbye to all worldly pleasures. But she did not have time in her intention: the crocodile again gathered his strength, took a sip - and instantly she disappeared again, this time forever. This appearance and disappearance of a still living human head was so terrible, but at the same time - whether from the speed and unexpectedness of the action or as a result of glasses falling off the nose - it contained something so funny that I suddenly and completely unexpectedly snorted; but, realizing that it was indecent for me to laugh at such a moment as a family friend, he immediately turned to Elena Ivanovna and said to her with a sympathetic look:

- Now kaput our Ivan Matveich!

I can’t even think of expressing how strong Elena Ivanovna’s excitement was throughout the entire process. At first, after the first cry, she seemed to freeze in place and looked at the chaos that appeared to her, apparently indifferently, but with extremely bulging eyes; then she suddenly burst into a tearing scream, but I grabbed her hands. At that moment the owner, who at first was also stupefied with horror, suddenly clasped his hands and shouted, looking at the sky:

- Oh my crocodile, oh mein allerlibster Karlchen! Mutter, mutter, mutter!

At this cry, the back door opened and a mutter appeared, in a cap, ruddy, elderly, but disheveled, and with a squeal she rushed to her German.

It was then that the sodomy began: Elena Ivanovna shouted out, like a frenzy, only one word: “Rip up!” rip!" - and rushed to the owner and to the mutter, apparently begging them - probably in self-forgetfulness - to cut someone up for something. The owner and the mutter did not pay attention to any of us: they both howled like calves near the box.

“He’s a loser, he’s going to gobble up now, because he swallowed a ganz official!” - the owner shouted.

- Unser Karlchen, unser allerlibster Karlchen vird sterben! - howled the hostess.

- We are orphans and without help! – the owner picked up.

- Rip, rip, rip! - Elena Ivanovna burst into tears, clutching the German’s frock coat.

- He teased the crocodile, - why did your husband tease the crocodile! - the German shouted, fighting back, - you will pay if Karlchen vird lopal, - das var mein zone, das var mein Einziger zone!

I admit, I was in terrible indignation, seeing such selfishness of a visiting German and dryness of heart in his disheveled mutter; nevertheless, Elena Ivanovna’s continuously repeated cries: “Rip up, rip up!” - aroused my anxiety even more and finally captivated all my attention, so that I was even frightened... I will say in advance that these strange exclamations were completely misunderstood by me: it seemed to me that Elena Ivanovna had lost her mind for a moment, but nevertheless, wanting to note the death of her beloved Ivan Matveich, offered, in the form of satisfaction that followed, to punish the crocodile with rods. Meanwhile, she meant something completely different. Not without embarrassment, looking at the door, I began to beg Elena Ivanovna to calm down and, most importantly, not to use the sensitive word “rip.” For such a retrograde desire here, in the very heart of the Passage and educated society, two steps from the very hall where, perhaps at that very moment, Mr. Lavrov was giving a public lecture, was not only impossible, but even unthinkable from the moment to a moment could attract the whistles of education and caricatures of Mr. Stepanov. To my horror, I was immediately proven right in my fearful suspicions: suddenly the curtain that separated the crocodile room from the entrance closet in which quarters were collected was parted, and a figure with a mustache, a beard and a cap in his hands appeared on the threshold, bending very strongly with his upper body forward and very prudently tried to keep her feet outside the threshold of the crocodile room in order to preserve the right not to pay for the entrance.

“Such a retrograde desire, madam,” said the stranger, trying not to somehow fall over to us and stand behind the threshold, “does not honor your development and is caused by a lack of phosphorus in your brains.” You will immediately be booed in the chronicles of progress and in our satirical sheets...

But he did not finish: the owner, who came to his senses, was horrified to see a man speaking in the crocodile room and not paying anything for it, furiously rushed at the progressive stranger and pushed him into the neck with both fists. For a minute both disappeared from our eyes behind the curtain, and only then did I finally realize that the whole mess had come out of nothing; Elena Ivanovna turned out to be completely innocent: she did not at all think, as I already noted above, to subject the crocodile to retrograde and humiliating punishment with rods, but simply simply wished that his belly would be ripped open with a knife and thus Ivan Matveich would be freed from his entrails.

- How! You're going to let my crocodile go to waste! - the owner screamed as he ran in again, - no, let your husband first be lost, and then the crocodile! Everyone will show the crocodile! I am a ganz from Europe, but you are an unknown ganz from Europe and he is paying me a fine.

- I, I! - the evil German woman picked up, - we won’t let you in, fine, when Karlchen gobbled it up!

“And it’s useless to tear it up,” I added calmly, wanting to distract Elena Ivanovna to go home as quickly as possible, “for our dear Ivan Matveich, in all likelihood, is now floating somewhere in the empyrean.”

“My friend,” Ivan Matveich’s voice rang out at that moment completely, unexpectedly, amazing us to the extreme, “my friend, my opinion is to act directly through the warden’s office, because a German will not understand the truth without the help of the police.”

These words, spoken firmly, with weight and expressing an extraordinary presence of mind, at first amazed us so much that we all refused to believe our ears. But, of course, they immediately ran up to the crocodile box and listened to the unfortunate prisoner with as much reverence as they did with incredulity. His voice was muffled, thin and even loud, as if coming from a considerable distance from us. It was like when some joker, going into another room and covering his mouth with an ordinary sleeping pillow, begins to scream, wanting to present to the audience remaining in the other room how two men call to each other in the desert or being separated from each other by a deep ravine - that I I had the pleasure of hearing it once from my friends at Christmas time.

- Ivan Matveich, my friend, so you’re alive! - Elena Ivanovna babbled.

“Alive and healthy,” answered Ivan Matveich, “and thanks to the Almighty, he was swallowed without any damage.” My only concern is how the authorities will look at this episode; because, having received a ticket abroad, he fell into a crocodile, which is not even witty...

“But, my friend, don’t worry about wit; “First of all, we need to somehow get you out of here,” Elena Ivanovna interrupted.

- They're picking! - the owner cried, - I won’t let the crocodile pick at it. Now the public will walk around more, and I will ask for fufzig kopecks, and Karlchen will stop eating.

- How strange it all is! - she interrupted, after listening for some time, - stop it, you disgusting one; what nonsense are you talking... Tell me, am I very red?

– You are beautiful, not red! – I remarked, taking the opportunity to pay a compliment.

- Naughty! – she stammered smugly. “Poor Ivan Matveich,” she added a minute later, coquettishly tilting her head onto her shoulder, “I really feel sorry for him, oh my God!” - she suddenly cried out, - tell me, how will he eat there today and... and... how will he... if he needs anything?

“An unexpected question,” I answered, also puzzled. To be honest, it never even occurred to me, women are so much more practical than us men when solving everyday problems!

“Poor thing, how did he fall in love so much... and there’s no entertainment and it’s dark... what a shame that I don’t have his photographic card left... So, now I’m like a widow,” she added with a seductive smile, obviously interested in her new position, “hm...” I still feel sorry for him!..

In a word, a very understandable and natural longing of a young and interesting wife for her dead husband was expressed. I finally brought her home, calmed her down and, having had lunch with her, after a cup of aromatic coffee, I went to Timofey Semyonitch at six o’clock, hoping that at that hour all the family people of certain occupations were sitting or lying at home.

Having written this first chapter in a style appropriate to the event described, I intend to further use a style, although not so sublime, but more natural, which I inform the reader in advance.

II

The venerable Timofey Semenych greeted me somewhat hastily and as if a little confused. He led me into his cramped office and closed the door tightly: “So that the children don’t interfere,” he said with visible concern. Then he sat me down on a chair by the desk, sat down in the chair himself, pulled the tails of his old cotton robe around him and, just in case, assumed some kind of official, even almost stern look, although he was not at all my or Ivan Matveich’s boss, but was still considered an ordinary colleague and even an acquaintance.

“First of all,” he began, “take into account that I am not the boss, but just a subordinate person, just like you, like Ivan Matveich... I’m a party, sir, and I don’t intend to get involved in anything.”

I was surprised that he apparently already knew all this. Despite the fact, I told him the whole story again with details. I even spoke with emotion, for at that moment I was fulfilling the duty of a true friend. He listened without much surprise, but with a clear sign of suspicion.

“Imagine,” he said, after listening, “I always believed that this would certainly happen to him.”

- Why, sir, Timofey Semenych, the case itself is quite unusual, sir...

- Agree. But Ivan Matveich, throughout his entire service, tended towards this result. Fast, sir, even arrogant. All “progress” and different ideas, sir, but this is where progress leads!

– But this is a most unusual case, and it cannot be made a general rule for all progressives...

- No, that’s how it is, sir. This, you see, comes from excessive education, believe me, sir. For overly educated people meddle in every place, sir, and mainly in places where they are not asked at all. However, maybe you know more,” he added, as if offended. – I am not so educated and old; I started with soldiers’ children, and my service marks its fiftieth anniversary this year, sir.

- Oh no, Timofey Semenych, have mercy. On the contrary, Ivan Matveich craves your advice, craves your leadership. Even, so to speak, with tears, sir.

- “So to speak, with tears, sir.” Hm. Well, these are crocodile tears, and you can’t quite trust them. Well, why, tell me, did he go abroad? And with what money? After all, he doesn’t have any money?

“For the accumulated money, Timofey Semenych, from the last rewards,” I answered plaintively. – I wanted to go for just three months – to Switzerland... to the homeland of William Tell.

– William Tell? Hm!

– I wanted to meet spring in Naples, sir. Explore the museum, customs, animals...

- Hm! animals? But in my opinion, it’s just out of pride. What animals? Animals? Don't we have enough animals? There are menageries, museums, camels. Bears live right next to St. Petersburg. Yes, he himself got stuck in the crocodile...

“Timofey Semyonich, for mercy, a man is in misfortune, a man comes running as to a friend, as to an older relative, he yearns for advice, and you reproach him... At least have pity on the unfortunate Elena Ivanovna!”

– Are you talking about your wife, sir? “An interesting lady,” said Timofey Semenych, apparently softening and taking a sniff of tobacco with appetite. - She's a delicate person. And how full she is, and her head is all on its side, on its side... very pleasant, sir. Andrei Osipych mentioned it three days ago.

- Did you mention it?

– I mentioned it, sir, and in very flattering terms. Bust, he says, look, hairstyle... Sweetie, he says, not a lady, and they immediately laughed. They are still young people. - Timofey Semenych blew his nose with a bang. - And yet here is a young man, and what kind of career are they planning for themselves...

- But this is completely different, Timofey Semyonitch.

- Of course, of course, sir.

- So what about it, Timofey Semenych?

- What can I do?

- Advise, sir, guide, like an experienced person, like a relative! What to do? Should I go with my boss or...

- By the authorities? “Not at all, sir,” Timofey Semyonitch said hastily. – If you want advice, then first of all you need to hush up this matter and act, so to speak, as a private individual. The case is suspicious, sir, and unprecedented. The main thing is that it’s unprecedented, there was no example, sir, and it’s a bad recommendation... Therefore, caution first of all... Let him lie there. We must wait, wait...

- How can we wait, Timofey Semyonitch? Well, what if he suffocates there?

- Why not, sir? After all, I think you said that he even settled down with contented comfort?

I told everything again. Timofey Semenych thought.

- Hm! - he said, twirling the snuffbox in his hands, - in my opinion, it’s even good that he’ll lie there for a while, instead of going abroad, sir. Let him think at his leisure; Of course, you don’t need to choke, and therefore you need to take the appropriate measures to preserve your health: well, there, beware of coughing and other things... And as for the German, then, in my personal opinion, he is in his right, and even more than the other side, because they got into his crocodile without asking, but he didn’t get into Ivan Matveichev’s crocodile without asking, who, however, as far as I remember, didn’t have his own crocodile. Well, sir, a crocodile is property, therefore, you cannot cut it open without compensation, sir.

– For the salvation of humanity, Timofey Semenych.

- Well, that’s a matter for the police, sir. This is where it should be taken.

- But we might need Ivan Matveich too. They may require it, sir.

- Will you need Ivan Matveich? hehe! Besides, he’s supposed to be on vacation, so we can ignore it, and let him inspect European lands there. It’s another matter if he doesn’t show up after the deadline, well then we’ll ask and make inquiries...

- Three months! Timofey Semenych, have mercy!

- It's my own fault, sir. Well, who put it there? So, perhaps, he will have to hire a government nanny, sir, and this is not even required by the state. And most importantly, the crocodile is property, therefore, here the so-called economic principle is already in action. And the economic principle comes first, sir. Just three days ago, at Luka Andreich’s party, Ignatius Prokofich said, do you know Ignatius Prokofich? A capitalist, in business, sir, and you know, he says this smoothly: “We need, he says, industry, we don’t have enough industry. We need to give birth to her. We need to give birth to capital, which means we need to give birth to the middle class, the so-called bourgeoisie. And since we don’t have capital, it means we need to attract them from abroad. It is necessary, firstly, to give way to foreign companies to buy up plots of our lands, as is now approved everywhere abroad. Communal property is poison, he says, death! - And, you know, he says so passionately; well, it suits them: they are capital people... and not employees. “With the community,” he says, neither industry nor agriculture will rise. It is necessary, he says, for foreign companies to buy up, if possible, all of our land in parts, and then split, split, crush as much as possible into small plots, and you know - he pronounces it decisively: crush, he says, and then sell it as personal property. And don’t sell, just rent. When, he says, all the land is in the hands of the foreign companies involved, then it means that you can set any price for rent. Therefore, the man will work three times over from one daily bread, and he can be driven away at any time. This means that he will feel, will be submissive, diligent and will work three times for the same price. And now what does he need in the community! He knows that he won’t die of hunger, so he’s lazy and gets drunk. Meanwhile, money will be attracted to us, capital will be created, and the bourgeoisie will come. Look, the English political and literary newspaper The Times, when examining our finances, responded the other day that this is why our finances are not growing, because we don’t have a middle class, we don’t have big wallets, there are no helpful proletarians...” Ignatius Prokofich says well. Speaker, sir. The authorities themselves want to submit a review and then publish it in Izvestia. These are not poems, like Ivan Matveich...

- So what about Ivan Matveich? – I screwed up, letting the old man chat. Timofey Semenych sometimes liked to chat and thereby show that he had not lagged behind and knew all this.

- How is Ivan Matveich? So that’s what I’m getting at, sir. We ourselves are busy trying to attract foreign capital to our fatherland, but just judge: as soon as the capital of the attracted crocodile operator doubled through Ivan Matveich, we, in order to protect the foreign owner, on the contrary, are trying to rip open the belly of the fixed capital itself. Well, is this appropriate? In my opinion, Ivan Matveich, as a true son of the fatherland, should still rejoice and be proud of the fact that he doubled, and perhaps even tripled, the value of a foreign crocodile. This is necessary for attraction, sir. If one succeeds, you see, another will come with a crocodile, and the third will bring two or three at a time, and capital is grouped around them. Here comes the bourgeoisie. We need to encourage it, sir.

- For mercy, Timofey Semenych! - I cried, - but you demand almost unnatural self-sacrifice from poor Ivan Matveich!

“I don’t demand anything, sir, and first of all I ask you - as I asked before - to understand that I am not the boss and, therefore, I cannot demand anything from anyone. I speak as a son of the fatherland, that is, I speak not as “Son of the fatherland,” but simply as a son of the fatherland. Again, who told him to get into the crocodile? A respectable man, a man of well-known rank, legally married, and suddenly - such a step! Is this appropriate?

- But this step happened by accident, sir.

- Who knows? And, tell me, how much money should I pay the crocodile?

- Is it on account of the salary, Timofey Semyonitch?

- Will it be enough, sir?

“It won’t be enough, Timofey Semenych,” I answered sadly. “At first the crocodile man was afraid that the crocodile would burst, and then, when he was convinced that everything was fine, he became self-important and was glad that he could double the price.

- Triple, maybe quadruple! The public will now come, and the crocodiles are clever people. Moreover, he is a meat eater and has a penchant for amusements, and therefore, I repeat, first of all, let Ivan Matveich observe incognito, let him not rush. Let everyone probably know that he is in the crocodile, but they don’t know officially. In this regard, Ivan Matveich is even in particularly favorable circumstances, because he is registered abroad. They will say it’s in a crocodile, but we won’t believe it. It can be summed up like this. The main thing is to let him wait, and why should he rush?

- Well, what if...

- Don’t worry, he’s built thick, sir...

- Well, then, when will he wait?

- Well, I won’t hide from you that the case is extremely unfortunate. It’s impossible to figure it out, sir, and, most importantly, it’s harmful that there hasn’t been an example of this before. If we had an example, we could still be guided somehow. How will you decide? You will begin to think, but the matter will drag on.

A happy thought flashed through my head.

“Is it not possible to arrange it this way,” I said, “so that if he is destined to remain in the depths of the monster and, by the will of Providence, his stomach is preserved, is it not possible to submit a petition to him to be included in the service?”

- Hm... perhaps in the form of vacation and without salary...

- No, sir, is it possible with a salary, sir?

- On what basis? - In the form of a business trip...

– Which one and where?

- Yes, into the bowels, the crocodile bowels... So to speak, for information, to study the facts on the spot. Of course, this will be new, but it is progressive and at the same time will show concern for enlightenment, sir...

Timofey Semenych thought.

“To send a special official,” he finally said, “to the bowels of a crocodile for special assignments, in my personal opinion, is absurd, sir.” Not required by state. And what orders might there be?

– Yes, for the natural, so to speak, study of nature on the spot, live, sir. Nowadays everything has gone to natural sciences, botany... He would live there and report, sir... well, about digestion or simply about morals. For the accumulation of facts, sir.

– That is, this is part of the statistics. Well, I’m not good at this, and I’m not a philosopher either. You say: facts - we are already overwhelmed with facts and don’t know what to do with them. Moreover, these statistics are dangerous...

- What then, sir?

- Dangerous, sir. And besides, you must admit, he will report the facts, so to speak, lying on his side. Is it possible to serve while lying on your side? This is again an innovation, and a dangerous one at that; and again there was no such example. Now, if we had at least some example, then, in my opinion, perhaps we could go on a business trip.

“But they haven’t brought live crocodiles yet, Timofey Semenych.”

“Um, yes...” he thought again. – If you want, this objection of yours is fair and could even serve as a basis for further proceedings in the case. But again, take the fact that if, with the appearance of live crocodiles, employees begin to disappear and then, on the basis of the fact that it is warm and soft there, they demand business trips there, and then lie on their sides... you yourself will agree - a bad example, sir. After all, perhaps everyone will go there to take money for nothing.

- Please, Timofey Semenych! By the way, Ivan Matveich asked me to give you a card debt, seven rubles, in the mess, sir...

- Oh, he lost the other day, at Nikifor Nikiforitch’s! I remember, sir. And how cheerful he was then, he made me laugh, and lo!..

The old man was sincerely touched.

- Please, Timofey Semenych.

- I’ll bother, sir. I will speak on my own behalf, privately, in the form of a certificate. But, by the way, find out, unofficially, from the outside, exactly what price would the owner agree to take for his crocodile?

Timofey Semenych has apparently gotten better.

“Certainly, sir,” I answered, “and I will immediately come to you with a report.”

- Is your wife... alone now? Bored?

- You should visit, Timofey Semenych.

“I’ll visit you, sir, I was thinking just now, and it’s a convenient opportunity... And why, why did he want to look at the crocodile?” However, I would like to see it myself.

- Visit the poor man, Timofey Semyonitch.

- I’ll visit you, sir. Of course, I don’t want to inspire hope with this step. I will arrive as a private person... Well, goodbye, I’m back to Nikifor Nikiforitch; will you?

- No, sir, I’m going to see the prisoner.

- Yes, sir, now to the prisoner!.. Eh, frivolity!

I said goodbye to the old man. Various thoughts went through my head. Timofey Semyonich is a kind and honest man, and when I left him, I was, however, glad that it was already his fiftieth birthday and that Timofey Semyonychs are now a rarity among us. Of course, I immediately flew to Passage to tell poor Ivan Matveich everything. Yes, and curiosity filled me: how did he get settled in the crocodile and how can one live in a crocodile? And is it really possible to live in a crocodile? At times, it really seemed to me that this was all some kind of monstrous dream, especially since it was all about a monster...

III

And yet, this was not a dream, but a real, undoubted reality. Otherwise, would I even begin to tell! But I continue...

I got to Passage already late, about nine o’clock, and was forced to enter the crocodile shop from the back door, because the German had locked the store this time earlier than usual. He walked around at home in some greasy old frock coat, but he was still three times happier than he had been that morning. It was clear that he was no longer afraid of anything and that “the publicum walked a lot.” Mutter came out later, obviously to keep an eye on me. The German and the Mutter often whispered to each other. Even though the store was already locked, he still took the quarter from me. And what unnecessary neatness!

– You will pay every time; the public will be paid a ruble, and you will be paid one quarter, for you are the good friend of your good friend, and I honor the friend...

- Is my educated friend alive, is he alive! - I cried loudly, approaching the crocodile and hoping that my words would reach Ivan Matveich from afar and flatter his pride.

“Alive and well,” he answered, as if from a distance or as if from under the bed, although I was standing next to him, “alive and well, but more about that later... How are you?”

As if deliberately not hearing the question, I began to ask him with sympathy and haste: how is he, what is he, and what is it like in a crocodile, and what is it like inside a crocodile in general? This was required by both friendship and ordinary politeness. But he interrupted me capriciously and with annoyance.

- How are you? - he shouted, commanding me as usual, in his shrill voice, which this time was extremely disgusting.

I told my entire conversation with Timofey Semyonich down to the last detail. While telling the story, I tried to show a somewhat offended tone.

“The old man is right,” Ivan Matveich decided as sharply as he always did when talking to me. – I love practical people and do not tolerate sweet mumbo-jumbo. However, I am ready to admit that your idea about a business trip is not completely ridiculous. Indeed, I can tell you a lot both scientifically and morally. But now all this is taking on a new and unexpected form and it’s not worth bothering with just a salary. Listen carefully. You are sitting?

- No, I’m standing.

– Sit on something, at least on the floor, and listen carefully.

Angrily, I took the chair and in my heart, as I set it up, I slammed it on the floor.

“Listen,” he began imperiously, “a whole lot of people came today.” By evening there was not enough space, and the police showed up to bring order. At eight o'clock, that is, earlier than usual, the owner even found it necessary to lock the store and stop the show in order to count the money raised and more conveniently prepare for tomorrow. I know that tomorrow there will be a whole fair. Thus, it must be assumed that all the most educated people of the capital, ladies of high society, foreign envoys, lawyers and others stay here. Moreover, they will come from the many-sided provinces of our vast and curious empire. As a result, I am in full view of everyone, and although hidden, I am the leader. I will teach the idle crowd. Taught by experience, I will present myself as an example of greatness and humility before fate! I will, so to speak, be the pulpit from which I will begin to teach humanity. Even the natural scientific information that I can impart about the monster I inhabit is precious. And therefore, not only do I not complain about this current case, but I firmly hope for the most brilliant of careers.

– Wouldn’t it get boring? – I remarked venomously.

What angered me the most was that he had almost completely stopped using personal pronouns—he had become so self-important. Still, the whole thing confused me. “Why, why is this frivolous head swaggering! – I rasped in a whisper to myself. “We need to cry here, not show off.”

- No! - he answered sharply to my remark, - because I am all imbued with great ideas, only now can I dream in my spare time about improving the fate of all mankind. Now truth and light will come out of the crocodile. I will undoubtedly invent my own new theory of new economic relations and will be proud of it - which I could not hitherto due to lack of time at work and in the vulgar entertainments of the world. I will refute everything and become a new Fourier. By the way, did you give seven rubles to Timofey Semenych?

“From my own,” I answered, trying to express in my voice that I paid from my own.

“We’ll settle,” he answered arrogantly. “I’m definitely waiting for a salary increase, because who should give it to me if not me?” My benefits are now endless. But to the point. Wife?

– You are probably asking about Elena Ivanovna?

- Wife?! - he shouted, even with some kind of squeal this time.

There was nothing to do! Humbly, but again gnashing my teeth, I told how I left Elena Ivanovna. He didn't even listen to the end.

“I have special plans for her,” he began impatiently, “If I’m famous here, I want her to be famous there.” Scientists, poets, philosophers, visiting mineralogists, statesmen, after a morning conversation with me, will visit her salon in the evenings. Starting next week, she should start having salons every evening. A double salary will provide funds for the reception, and since the reception should be limited to one tea and hired lackeys, then that’s the end of the matter. Both here and there they will talk about me. For a long time I longed for an opportunity for everyone to talk about me, but could not achieve it, shackled by small importance and insufficient rank. Now all this has been achieved with the most ordinary gulp of a crocodile. Every word of mine will be listened to, every saying will be pondered, transmitted, and published. And I will let myself be known! They will finally understand what abilities were allowed to disappear in the depths of the monster. “This man could be a foreign minister and rule the kingdom,” some will say. “And this man did not rule a foreign kingdom,” others will say. Well, why, why am I any worse than some Garnier-Pagesishka or whatever their name is?.. My wife should be my pandan - I have intelligence, she has beauty and courtesy. “She is beautiful, that’s why she is his wife,” some will say. “She is beautiful because she is his wife,” others will correct. Just in case, let Elena Ivanovna tomorrow buy an encyclopedic dictionary, published under the editorship of Andrei Kraevsky, so that she can talk about all subjects. Most often, let the premier politician “S. – Petersburg News”, checking every day with “Volos”. I believe that the owner will sometimes agree to bring me, along with the crocodile, to my wife’s brilliant salon. I will stand in a box in the middle of a magnificent living room and will sprinkle with witticisms that I have picked up in the morning. I will inform the statesman about my projects; I will speak to the poet in rhyme; I will be funny and morally sweet with the ladies, since I am completely safe for their spouses. I will serve as an example to everyone else of submission to fate and the will of providence. I will make my wife a brilliant literary lady; I will bring it forward and explain it to the public; as my wife, she should be full of the greatest virtues, and if Andrei Alexandrovich is rightly called our Russian Alfred de Musset, then it will be even more fair when they call her our Russian Eugenia Tour.

I admit, although all this game was somewhat similar to the usual Ivan Matveich, it still occurred to me that he was now in a fever and delirious. It was still the same ordinary and everyday Ivan Matveich, but observed through glass, magnifying twenty times.

“My friend,” I asked him, “do you hope for longevity?” And in general, tell me: are you healthy? How do you eat, how do you sleep, how do you breathe? I am your friend, and you must agree that the case is too supernatural, and therefore my curiosity is too natural.

“Idle curiosity and nothing more,” he answered sententiously, “but you will be satisfied.” You ask how I settled down in the depths of the monster? Firstly, the crocodile, to my surprise, turned out to be completely empty. Its interior consists of a huge empty bag made of rubber, like those rubber products that are common here in Gorokhovaya, Morskaya and, if I’m not mistaken, on Voznesensky Prospekt. Otherwise, think about it, could I fit in it?

- Is it possible to? – I cried out in understandable amazement. – Is the crocodile completely empty?

“Absolutely,” Ivan Matveich confirmed sternly and impressively. – And, in all likelihood, it is designed this way according to the laws of nature itself. The crocodile has only a mouth equipped with sharp teeth, and in addition to the mouth, a much longer tail - that’s all, for real. In the middle, between these two ends, there is an empty space, surrounded by something like rubber, most likely actually rubber.

- And the ribs, and the stomach, and the intestines, and the liver, and the heart? – I interrupted even with anger.

– N-nothing, absolutely none of this exists and probably never happened. All this is the idle fantasy of frivolous travelers. Just as one inflates a hemorrhoidal pillow, so I am now inflating a crocodile with myself. It stretches beyond belief. Even you, as a house friend, could fit next to me if you had the generosity - and even with you there would still be enough room. I’m even thinking, as a last resort, to discharge Elena Ivanovna here. However, such an empty device of a crocodile is completely in accordance with natural sciences. For, let’s say, for example, you have been given the opportunity to create a new crocodile - naturally the question arises to you: what is the main property of a crocodile? The answer is clear: swallow people. How can you use a device to reach a crocodile so that it swallows people? The answer is even clearer: by making it empty. Physics has long ago decided that nature does not tolerate a vacuum. Likewise, the inside of a crocodile must be empty, so as not to tolerate emptiness, but, consequently, to continuously swallow and be filled with everything that is at hand. And this is the only reasonable reason why all the crocodiles swallow our brother. This is not the case in the human structure: the emptyer, for example, a human head is, the less it feels the desire to be filled, and this is the only exception to the general rule. All this is now clear to me as day, I comprehended all this with my own mind and experience, being, so to speak, in the depths of nature, in her retort, listening to the beating of her pulse. Even the etymology agrees with me, for the very name crocodile means gluttony. Crocodile, Crocodillo, is a word, obviously Italian, contemporary, perhaps, with the ancient Egyptian pharaohs and, obviously, originating from the French root: croquer, which means to eat, eat and generally consume. I intend to read all this in the form of the first lecture to the public gathered in Elena Ivanovna’s salon, when I am brought there in a box.

“My friend, shouldn’t you at least take a laxative now!” – I cried out involuntarily. “He’s got a fever, he’s got a fever, he’s got a fever!” – I repeated to myself in horror.

- Nonsense! - he answered contemptuously, - and besides, in my current situation it is completely inconvenient. However, I partly knew that you would talk about laxatives.

- My friend, how... how do you eat food now? Did you have lunch today or not?

- No, but I’m full and, most likely, now I’ll never eat food again. And this is also completely understandable: by filling the crocodile’s entire insides with myself, I make him full forever. Now you don’t have to feed him for several years. On the other hand, having had enough of me, he will naturally convey to me all the vital juices from his body; it’s like how some sophisticated coquettes cover themselves and all their forms with raw cutlets at night and then, after taking a morning bath, they become fresh, elastic, juicy and seductive. Thus, by feeding the crocodile with myself, I, in return, receive nutrition from him; therefore, we mutually feed each other. But since it is difficult, even for a crocodile, to digest a person like me, then, of course, he should feel some heaviness in his stomach - which, however, he does not have - and that’s why, so as not to cause unnecessary pain monster, I rarely turn from side to side; and even though I could toss and turn, I don’t do this out of humanity. This is the only drawback of my current position, and in an allegorical sense, Timofey Semyonovich is fair when he calls me a couch potato. But I will prove that even lying on your side, not only that, but only by lying on your side can you turn the fate of humanity around. All the great ideas and trends of our newspapers and magazines are obviously produced by couch potatoes; That’s why they call them armchair ideas, but I don’t care what they call it! Now I will invent a whole social system, and - you won’t believe - how easy it is! You just have to retire somewhere far away in a corner or even get into a crocodile, close your eyes, and you will immediately invent a whole paradise for all mankind. Just after you left, I immediately began to invent and have already invented three systems, now I am making a fourth. True, everything must first be refuted; but from the crocodile it is so easy to refute; Moreover, it’s as if all this becomes clearer from the crocodile... However, in my situation there are also disadvantages, albeit minor ones: the inside of the crocodile is somewhat damp and as if covered with mucus, and, on top of that, it still smells somewhat like gum, exactly like my last year's galoshes. That's all, there are no more shortcomings.

“Ivan Matveich,” I interrupted, “all these are miracles that I can hardly believe.” And really, really, don’t you intend to have lunch all your life?

“What nonsense are you worrying about, you careless, idle head!” I’m telling you about great ideas, and you... Know that I’m already full of the great ideas that illuminated the night that surrounded me. However, the good-natured owner of the monster, in agreement with the kindest mutter, decided among themselves that every morning they would push a curved metal tube into the crocodile’s mouth, like a pipe, through which I could draw in coffee or broth with white bread soaked in it. The pipe has already been ordered from the neighborhood; but I believe that this is an unnecessary luxury. I hope to live at least a thousand years, if it is true that crocodiles live for that many years, which, fortunately I reminded you, look up tomorrow in some natural history and let me know, because I could have been mistaken by mixing a crocodile with some other fossils. Just one consideration somewhat confuses me: since I am dressed in cloth and have boots on my feet, the crocodile obviously cannot digest me. Moreover, I am alive and therefore I resist digestion with all my will, for it is clear that I do not want to turn into what all food turns into, since that would be too humiliating for me. But I am afraid of one thing: within a thousand years, the cloth of my coat, unfortunately a Russian product, may decay, and then I, left without clothes, despite all my indignation, will perhaps begin to digest; and although during the day I will never allow this and will not allow it, at night, in my sleep, when the will flies away from a person, the most humiliating fate of some potato, pancakes or veal can befall me. This idea makes me furious. For this reason alone, it would be necessary to change the tariff and encourage the import of English cloth, which is stronger, and therefore longer, will resist nature in case you get into a crocodile. At the first opportunity, I will communicate my thoughts to one of the government officials, and at the same time to the political observers of our daily St. Petersburg newspapers. Let them shout. I hope that this is not the only thing they will now borrow from me. I foresee that every morning a whole crowd of them, armed with editorial quarters, will crowd around me in order to catch my thoughts about yesterday’s telegrams. In short, the future appears to me in the most rosy light.

“Fever, fever!” – I whispered to myself.

- My friend, what about freedom? – I said, wanting to fully know his opinion. - After all, you are, so to speak, in prison, while a person should enjoy freedom.

“You are stupid,” he answered. - Wild people love independence, wise people love order, but there is no order...

- Ivan Matveich, have mercy and mercy!

- Shut up and listen! – he squealed in annoyance that I interrupted him. “I have never been so inspired as I am now.” In my cramped refuge I am afraid of one thing - the literary criticism of thick magazines and the whistling of our satirical newspapers. I'm afraid that frivolous visitors, fools and envious people and nihilists in general will make me laugh. But I will take action. I look forward to tomorrow's public reviews, and most importantly, the opinions of the newspapers. Report the newspapers tomorrow.

“Okay, tomorrow I’ll bring a whole bunch of newspapers here.”

– Tomorrow is too early to expect newspaper reviews, because advertisements are published only on the fourth day. But from now on, every evening, come through the inner passage from the yard. I intend to use you as my secretary. You will read newspapers and magazines to me, and I will dictate my thoughts to you and give you instructions. In particular, don’t forget telegrams. Every day so that all European telegrams are here. But enough; you probably want to sleep now. Go home and don’t think about what I just said about criticism: I’m not afraid of it, because it itself is in a critical situation. You just have to be wise and virtuous, and you will certainly stand on a pedestal. If not Socrates, then Diogenes, or both together, and this is my future role in humanity.

So frivolously and obsessively (though in a fever) Ivan Matveich was in a hurry to speak out to me, like those weak-willed women about whom the proverb says that they cannot keep a secret. And everything that he told me about the crocodile seemed very suspicious to me. How is it possible for a crocodile to be completely empty? I bet he boasted about this out of vanity and partly to humiliate me. True, he was sick, and a sick person must be respected; but, I admit frankly, I always could not stand Ivan Matveich. All my life, starting from childhood, I wanted and could not get rid of his tutelage. A thousand times I wanted to completely split with him, and each time I was drawn to him again, as if I was still hoping to prove something to him and celebrate him for something. This friendship is a strange thing! I can say positively that nine-tenths of my friendship with him was out of spite. This time we said goodbye, however, with feeling.

“Your friend is a very smart man,” the German said to me in a low voice, getting ready to see me off; he diligently listened to our conversation the whole time.

“A propos,” I said, “so as not to forget, how much would you take for your crocodile, in case you decided to buy it from you?”

Ivan Matveich, who heard the question, waited with curiosity for the answer. Apparently he didn’t want the German to take too little; at least he grunted somehow especially when I asked.

At first the German didn’t even want to listen, he even got angry.

- Nobody dares to buy my own crocodile! - he cried furiously and turned red like boiled crayfish. – I don’t want to sell crocodile. I won’t take a million thalers for a crocodile. I took one hundred and thirty dollars from the public today, and tomorrow I collected ten thousand dollars, and then I collected one hundred thousand dollars every day. I don't want to sell!

Ivan Matveich even giggled with pleasure.

Reluctantly, coolly and judiciously - for I was fulfilling the duty of a true friend - I hinted to the extravagant German that his calculations were not entirely correct, that if he collected a hundred thousand every day, then in four days he would have all of Petersburg and then there will be no one to collect from, that God is free in the belly and in death, that the crocodile may somehow burst, and Ivan Matveich will get sick and die, and so on, and so on.

The German thought about it.

“I’ll give him drops from the pharmacy,” he said, thinking about it, “and your friend won’t die.”

“Drops drop by drop,” I said, “but take into account the fact that a lawsuit may start.” Ivan Matveich's wife may demand her legal spouse. You intend to get rich, but do you intend to assign at least some kind of pension to Elena Ivanovna?

- No, not mereval! – the German answered decisively and sternly.

- No, don’t merevale! – the mutter picked up, even angrily.

- So, isn’t it better for you to take something now, at once, although moderate, but faithful and solid, than to indulge in the unknown? I consider it my duty to add that I am not asking you out of idle curiosity alone.

The German took the mutter and retired with it for a conference in the corner, where there was a cabinet with the largest and ugliest monkey in the entire collection.

- You will see! - Ivan Matveich told me.

As for me, at that moment I was burning with the desire, firstly, to beat the German painfully, secondly, to beat the Mutter even more, and thirdly, to beat Ivan Matveich harder and more painfully than anyone else for the boundlessness of his pride. But all this meant nothing in comparison with the answer of the greedy German.

After consulting with his mutter, he demanded for his crocodile fifty thousand rubles in tickets for the last domestic loan with a lottery, a stone house in Gorokhovaya and with it his own pharmacy and, in addition, the rank of Russian colonel.

- You see! - Ivan Matveich shouted triumphantly, - I told you! Apart from the last insane desire to be promoted to colonel, he is absolutely right, for he fully understands the current value of the monster he is showing. Economic principle first!

- Have mercy! - I furiously shouted to the German, - why do you need a colonel? What feat have you accomplished, what service have you earned, what military glory have you achieved? Well, aren't you crazy after that?

- Crazy! - the German cried out, offended, - no, I’m a very smart man, but I’m a very stupid person! I deserve a colonel, because I showed a crocodile, and there was a living gof-rat sitting in it, but the Russian couldn’t show a crocodile, and there was a living gof-rat sitting in it! I’m an extremely smart guy and I really want to be a Colonel!

- So goodbye, Ivan Matveich! - I cried, trembling with rage, and almost ran out of the crocodile room. I felt that another minute and I would no longer be able to answer for myself. The unnatural hopes of these two fools were unbearable. The cold air, refreshing me, somewhat moderated my indignation. Finally, having energetically spat up to fifteen times in both directions, I took a cab, arrived home, undressed and threw myself into bed. The most annoying thing was that I ended up as his secretary. Now die there of boredom every evening, fulfilling the duty of a true friend! I was ready to beat myself up for this, and indeed, having already put out the candle and covered myself with a blanket, I hit myself several times with my fist on the head and other parts of the body. This relieved me somewhat, and I finally fell asleep, even quite soundly, because I was very tired. All night I dreamed only of monkeys, but in the morning I dreamed of Elena Ivanovna...

IV

I dreamed about the monkeys, as I guess, because they were kept in the crocodile keeper’s closet, but Elena Ivanovna wrote a special article.

I will say in advance: I loved this lady; but I hasten - and I hasten in express mail - to make a reservation: I loved her like a father, no more, no less. I conclude this because many times I had an uncontrollable desire to kiss her on the head or on her rosy cheek. And although I never put this into practice, I confess - I would not refuse to kiss her even on the lips. And not just her lips, but her teeth, which always stood out so charmingly, like a row of pretty, selected pearls, when she laughed. She laughed surprisingly often. Ivan Matveich called her, in affectionate cases, his “cute absurdity” - a name that is extremely fair and characteristic. It was a candy lady and nothing more. Therefore, I don’t understand at all why the same Ivan Matveich now decided to imagine our Russian Evgenia Tur in his wife? In any case, my dream, not taking into account the monkeys, made a most pleasant impression on me, and, turning over in my head over a morning cup of tea all the incidents of yesterday, I decided to immediately go to Elena Ivanovna, on the way to work, which, however, , had to do it as a house friend.

In a tiny room, in front of the bedroom, in what they called their small living room, although their large living room was also small, Elena Ivanovna was sitting on a small elegant sofa, at a small tea table, in some kind of fluffy morning vest, and from a small cup, in which she dipped a tiny cracker and ate coffee. She was seductively pretty, but she also seemed to me to be thoughtful.

- Oh, it's you, naughty! - she greeted me with an absent-minded smile, - sit down, flighty, drink coffee. Well, what did you do yesterday? Have you been to a masquerade ball?

- Were you there? I’m not traveling... besides, I visited our prisoner yesterday...

I sighed and put on a pious face as I took the coffee.

- Whom? What kind of prisoner is this? Oh yes! Poor thing! Well, is he bored? You know... I wanted to ask you... I can ask for a divorce now, right?

- Divorce! – I screamed indignantly and almost spilled my coffee. "This is a black man!" – I thought to myself with rage.

There was a dark-haired man with a mustache who worked in the construction department, who came to them too often and was extremely good at making Elena Ivanovna laugh. I admit, I hated him, and there was no doubt that he had already seen Elena Ivanovna yesterday, either at the masquerade, or, perhaps, here, and told her all sorts of nonsense!

“Well,” Elena Ivanovna suddenly hurried, as if she had been trained, “why will he sit there in the crocodile and, perhaps, won’t come all his life, and I’ll wait for him here!” A husband should live at home, not in a crocodile...

“But this is an unforeseen event,” I began in very understandable excitement.

- Oh, no, don’t say, I don’t want, I don’t want! – she shouted, suddenly becoming completely angry. - You are always opposite me, so worthless! You can’t do anything with you, you can’t advise anything! Strangers are already telling me that they will give me a divorce, because Ivan Matveich will no longer receive a salary.

- Elena Ivanovna! Can I hear you? – I screamed pathetically. – What villain could explain this to you! And divorce for such an unfounded reason as salary is completely impossible. And poor, poor Ivan Matveich, so to speak, is all ablaze with love for you, even in the depths of the monster. Moreover, it melts with love like a piece of sugar. Just yesterday evening, when you were having fun in a masquerade, he mentioned that, as a last resort, he might decide to sign you into his depths as his legal wife, especially since the crocodile turns out to be very roomy not only for two, but even for three persons...

And then I immediately told her this whole interesting part of my conversation yesterday with Ivan Matveich

- How how! - she cried in surprise - Do you want me to also climb there, to Ivan Matveich? What fiction! And how can I climb, wearing a hat and a crinoline? Lord, what stupidity! And what kind of figure will I make when I climb there, and someone else will probably look at me... This is funny! And what will I eat there?.. and... and how will I be there when..., oh my God, what did they come up with!.. And what kind of entertainment is there?.. Are you saying that it smells like gum rubber there? And how will I, if we quarrel with him there, still lie next to him? Ugh, how disgusting!

“I agree, I agree with all these arguments, my dear Elena Ivanovna,” I interrupted, trying to speak out with that understandable passion that always takes possession of a person when he feels that the truth is on his side, “but you did not appreciate one thing in all this; you did not appreciate the fact that he, therefore, cannot live without you if he calls you there; it means there is love here, passionate, faithful, striving love... You did not appreciate love, dear Elena Ivanovna, love!

- I don’t want, I don’t want, and I don’t want to hear anything! - she waved him off with her small, pretty hand, on which her pink marigolds, freshly washed and brushed, shone. - Nasty! You will bring me to tears. Climb yourself if it pleases you. After all, you are a friend, so you lie down there next to him out of friendship, and argue all your life about some boring sciences...

“It’s in vain that you laugh so much at this assumption,” I stopped the frivolous woman with importance, “Ivan Matveich called me there anyway.” Of course, you are attracted there by duty, but I am attracted only by generosity; but, telling me yesterday about the extraordinary extensibility of the crocodile, Ivan Matveich made a very clear hint that not only you both, but even me as a house friend could fit in with you, the three of us, especially if I wanted it, and therefore...

- How so, three of us? – Elena Ivanovna cried, looking at me in surprise. - So how can we... will all three of us be there together? Ha ha ha! How stupid you both are! Ha ha ha! I’ll definitely be pinching you there all the time, you wretch, ha-ha-ha! Ha ha ha!

And she, leaning back on the sofa, laughed until she burst into tears. All this - both tears and laughter - was so seductive that I could not stand it and enthusiastically rushed to kiss her hands, which she did not resist, although she lightly tore my ears as a sign of reconciliation.

Then we both cheered up, and I told her in detail all of Ivan Matveich’s plans yesterday. She really liked the idea of ​​receptions and an open salon.

“But we will need a lot of new dresses,” she noted, “and therefore Ivan Matveich needs to send as quickly as possible and as much salary as possible... Only... just how can this be,” she added thoughtfully, “how can this be his will they bring it to me in a box? This is very funny. I don't want my husband to be carried around in a box. I will be very ashamed in front of the guests... I don’t want, no, I don’t want.

- By the way, so as not to forget, was Timofey Semyonitch with you last night?

- Oh, there was; He came to console me, and, imagine, we played our trump cards with him. He wants candy, and if I lose, he kisses my hands. So worthless and, imagine, he almost went to the masquerade with me. Right!

- Passion! - I noticed, - and who wouldn’t be carried away by you, seductive one!

- Come on, let's go with your compliments! Wait, I'll pinch you on the way. I've gotten terribly good at pinching now. Well, what is it like! Yes, by the way, you say, Ivan Matveich often spoke about me yesterday?

- N-n-no, not that much... I confess to you, he now thinks more about the fate of all mankind and wants...

- Well, let him! Negotiate! That's right, terrible boredom. I'll visit him sometime. I'll definitely go tomorrow. Just not today; my head hurts, and besides, there will be so many people there... They will say: this is his wife, they will shame me... Goodbye. You're... there in the evening, aren't you?

- He has it, he has it. He told me to come and bring newspapers. Well that's just wonderful. And go to him and read. Don't come to see me today. I'm not well, but maybe I'll go visit. Well, goodbye, naughty guy.

“This is a black -fashioned one in her in the evening,” I thought to myself.

In the office, of course, I did not even show that I was being consumed by such worries and troubles. But I soon noticed that some of our most progressive newspapers somehow especially quickly that morning passed from hand to hand of my colleagues and were read with extremely serious expressions on their faces. The first one I came across was “Leaflet,” a newspaper without any special direction, but only generally humane, for which it was mostly despised among us, although it was read. Not without surprise I read the following in it:

“Yesterday, extraordinary rumors spread in our vast capital, adorned with magnificent buildings. A certain N., a well-known gastronome from high society, probably bored with the cuisine of Borel and the Club, entered the Passage building, to the place where the huge crocodile that had just been brought to the capital is displayed, and demanded that it be prepared for him for lunch. Having bargained with the owner, he immediately began to devour him (that is, not the owner, a very quiet and careful German, but his crocodile) - still alive, cutting off juicy pieces with a penknife and swallowing them with extreme haste. Little by little, the entire crocodile disappeared into its fat bowels, so that he was even going to start eating ichneumon, the crocodile’s constant companion, probably believing that it would be just as tasty. We are not at all against this new product, which has long been known to foreign gastronomes. We even predicted this in advance. English lords and travelers catch crocodiles in whole parties in Egypt and eat the backbone of the monster in the form of a steak, with mustard, onions and potatoes. The French, who traveled with Lesseps, prefer paws baked in hot ashes, which they do, however, to spite the British, who laugh at them. We will probably appreciate both. For our part, we welcome a new branch of industry, which our strong and diverse fatherland largely lacks. Following this first crocodile, which disappeared into the depths of a St. Petersburg grocery store, probably not even a year will pass before hundreds of them will be brought to us. And why not acclimatize the crocodile here in Russia? If the Neva water is too cold for these interesting strangers, then in the capital there are ponds, and outside the city there are rivers and lakes. Why not, for example, breed crocodiles in Pargolovo or Pavlovsk, or in Moscow in Presnensky Ponds and Samotek? By delivering pleasant and healthy food to our sophisticated gastronomes, they could at the same time entertain the ladies walking on these ponds and teach children about natural history. Cases, suitcases, cigarette cases and wallets could be made from crocodile skin, and, perhaps, more than one thousand Russian merchants in greasy credit cards, mainly preferred by merchants, would have settled in crocodile skin. We hope to return to this interesting subject more than once.”

This is what I read in the passage shown in “Hair”: “Everyone knows that we are progressive and humane and want to keep up with Europe in this. But, despite all our efforts and the efforts of our newspaper, we are still far from “ripe”, as evidenced by the outrageous fact that happened yesterday in Passage and which we predicted in advance. A foreign owner comes to the capital and brings with him a crocodile, which he begins to show to the public in Passage. We immediately hastened to welcome a new branch of useful industry, which our strong and varied fatherland generally lacks. Suddenly, yesterday, at half past five in the afternoon, someone of extraordinary thickness and drunkenness appears in the shop of a foreign owner, pays the entrance fee and immediately, without any prior notice, climbs into the mouth of a crocodile, which, of course, was forced to swallow him, at least out of a sense of self-preservation, so as not to choke. Having fallen into the inside of the crocodile, the stranger immediately falls asleep. Neither the cries of the foreign owner, nor the cries of his frightened family, nor the threat to turn to the police make any impression. From inside the crocodile, only laughter and a promise to deal with rods are heard (sic), and the poor mammal, forced to swallow such a mass, sheds tears in vain. An uninvited guest is worse than a Tatar, but, despite the proverb, an impudent visitor does not want to leave. We don’t know how to explain such barbaric facts, which testify to our immaturity and tarnish us in the eyes of foreigners. The sweeping nature of Russian nature has found its worthy use. The question is, what did the uninvited visitor want? Warm and comfortable room? But in the capital there are many beautiful houses with cheap and very comfortable apartments, with Neva water and gas-lit staircases, where the owners often have a doorman. We also draw the attention of our readers to the very barbarity of treatment of domestic animals: it is, of course, difficult for a visiting crocodile to digest such a mass at once, and now he lies, swollen with a mountain, and awaits death in unbearable suffering. In Europe, those who treat inhumane animals inhumanely have long been prosecuted . But, despite European lighting, European sidewalks, European construction of houses, we will not lag behind our cherished prejudices for a long time.

The houses are new, but the prejudices are old -

and even the houses are not new, at least the stairs. We have already mentioned more than once in our newspaper that on the Petersburg side, in the house of the merchant Lukyanov, the winder steps of the wooden staircase have rotted, fallen through and have long been a danger to those in his service. soldier Afimya Skapidarova, who was often forced to climb the stairs with water or an armful of firewood. Finally, our predictions came true: last night at half past eight in the afternoon, soldier Afimya Skapidarova fell through with a soup cup and broke her leg. We don’t know whether Lukyanov will now repair his staircase; The Russian man is strong in hindsight, but the Russian victim has probably already been taken to the hospital. In the same way, we will not tire of asserting that the street cleaners cleaning dirt from the wooden sidewalks on Vyborgskaya should not dirty the feet of passers-by, but should put the dirt in piles, just as in Europe when cleaning boots... etc., etc. d."

“What is this,” I said, looking in some bewilderment at Prokhor Savvich, “what is this?”

- What, sir?

- For goodness sake, why would they regret Ivan Matveich, they regret the crocodile.

- What then, sir? Even an animal, a mammal, was pitied. Why not Europe, sir? They also feel very sorry for crocodiles there. Hee hee hee!

Having said this, the eccentric Prokhor Savvich buried himself in his papers and did not say another word.

“Volos” and “Leaflet” I hid in my pocket and, in addition, I collected as many old “Izvestia” and “Volos” as I could find for Ivan Matveich’s evening entertainment, and although the evening was still far away, this time I slipped out of the house early office in order to visit Passage and at least from afar see what is going on there, listen to different opinions and trends. I had a presentiment that there would be a whole crush there, and just in case, I wrapped my face tightly in the collar of my overcoat, because I was a little ashamed of something - we were so unaccustomed to publicity. But I feel that I have no right to convey my own, prosaic feelings in view of such a wonderful and original event.

Hey Lambert! Where is Lambert? Have you seen Lambert? (French)– The history of the emergence and spread in France of this popular humorous appeal, devoid of meaning, is set out in the article by M. P. Alekseev “On one epigraph in Dostoevsky” (see: Problems of theory and history of literature. M., 1971. pp. 367–373 ). This exclamation, which, according to E. Goncourt’s definition, is a “mechanical refrain,” invariably caused laughter precisely because of its absurdity, and as an epigraph to the story, it emphasized the paradoxical nature of the narrative. Dostoevsky could have learned about this “last and brilliant flower of French wit” from Russian newspapers. About this, see: Ornatskaya T.I. “Crocodile” (Additions to the commentary) // Dostoevsky: Materials and research. L., 1987. Issue. 7. pp. 169–171.

…o mein allerlibster Karlchen! Mutter...(German: O mein allerliebster Karlchen! Mutter!) - oh my dear Karlchen! Mother!