The story "Revel Tournament" as a romantic work. Alexander Bestuzhev-Marlinsky - Revel tournament

I

“You are used to seeing knights through the flowered glass of their castles, through the fog of antiquity and poetry. Now I will open the door to their homes for you, I will show them up close and in truth.”

“And, of course, he didn’t fill it with water, Doctor?”

- Without a doubt, Malvasia, Mister Baron. Don't you know that many substances flare up even more strongly when water is used? And your wild pepper, of course, is worth Greek fire.

The Baron had a commendable habit of agreeing with what he did not know. And therefore, with an important smile of approval, he answered the doctor: “I know... I know”; but by the way, not wanting to get burned by this Greek fire, he moved a mug of beer to Lonzius and invited him to put out the remains of yesterday’s fire.

“You’ll have plenty of work tomorrow,” he continued, turning the conversation to the tournament.

- Works, Baron? Am I a blacksmith? - answered the doctor, exchanging every word for a sip of beer. - Why do you need a surgeon when you break not ribs, but armor! Since these damned solid cuirasses were invented, our brother has to remember his experiences, like the fairy tale of the seven Semyons. Great is the courage to climb into an iron shell, and to stand in battle with an anvil! Really, the horses suffer more from your weapons than the enemies!..

- Stop, stop, Gustav, blaspheme our armor because it protects us from enemy swords and your lancets. Better ask the Russians, do they like them? Our men-at-arms are driving away the chainmailers by the thousands.

“That’s why the Russians don’t expect your horse loopholes, but love to catch you at home - in suede.” They say gloves made from it are very cheap in Novgorod!..

It’s no wonder: even if it was taken away by a penny, it’s cheaper than what was bought.

- Nonsense, Gustav, nonsense! I swear on my spurs that if the Russians had taken even a bridle from me, I would have caught up with the daredevils and cut out girths from their skins...

“They take away the horses of others with bridles, and not a single knight has ever seen girths made of such morocco.”

- Others... others!.. Others are not my orders. I am sure that the Russians will not forget meeting me near Magolm, near Pskov... near Narva!

“I remember this by heart too.” But why talk to us about past battles when we are talking about the upcoming tournament? Should I prepare a dressing for my venerable master? I would sincerely wish, Baron, that a beneficial blow would knock you out of the saddle, or that your horse, jealous of the glory of surgery, would break your arm or leg. You would then see the art of Lontius... and even if your dice were jumping like dice in a glass, I guarantee that in a month you yourself would be able to lift a cup to your mouth for my health.

“I’ll try to better preserve mine.” No, my dear Lonzius, Burtnek will no longer throw his opponents from their saddles! It’s inappropriate for him to measure shoulders with boys. Moreover, the summers weighed down my armor, and the strength of my arm flew away with its blows. No, I won’t go to a place I’m not sure where I’ll leave from. They wouldn’t have lured me to this feast if it weren’t for my daughter’s requests and the deal with Baron Ungern. The master promised to finish it one of these days.

- Just promised? That's not a lot. He has been promising me a pass to Moscow for two months and still does not give it, although I do not at all ask Mr. Germeister to take care of the health of my head, which, according to him, can catch a cold from the custom of taking off hats there a mile from the princely palace, but For those who forget, it’s as if they are nailed down so that they won’t be blown away by the wind. If it is as welcoming to fellow residents as it is to visitors, then you can safely hope that, having arrived here with the first larks, you will return home later than the time when the waders fly to the warm waters.

– Could this happen! My cause is as clear as my broadsword, as right as this right hand.

- But Baron Ungern, even with his left hand, holds tightly to the Germeister; they say he is akin to him...

– Aren’t I a brother in the Order with him? No, doctor, I have no doubt about justice; but I would like to get out of Revel as soon as possible. It’s not like in the village... feasts and dinners, from guests and visitors - and, look, money flies away like time, and debts hang like weights on my neck!.. I swear on my golden spurs, I will soon have nothing to swear to, because you'll have to pawn them. Do you, doctor, have any overseas medicine for money consumption?

“If it had existed, Baron, it would have remained unused; whoever has money does not need medicine, and whoever does not have it has nothing to buy it with. Through mental alchemy I learned that orvietan for pocket diseases is moderation.

Following this word, I don’t know whether it was intentionally or unintentionally, the doctor clattered his foot so loudly on the table that the bright sound of it seemed to say: “I’m empty.”

“I understand,” the knight said with a smile, “I understand this moral teaching; but, judging by our nature, it will remain without effect, just like your pills. By the way, dear doctor, shouldn’t we drink a bottle of Rhine wine, even though it’s contrary to our ritual? They say that every glass of Rhine wine taken at the right time takes away a thaler from the doctor.

“But each bottle gives him two.” Is your wine very old, Baron?

– A little younger than the flood, Mister Doctor; but you will see that it is not watery at all.

Bernhard whistled, and at that very moment, not a handsome page, as was usual with French knights, ran in, not a squire, as was the case with German paladins, but simply an Estonian servant, in a gray jacket, in elk trousers, with his hair flowing down to his shoulders, ran in and stood quietly at the doorpost with a slavishly questioning face.

- Drumme! - Bernhard told him, - tell the housekeeper Caroline to get one of the flat bottles with a green seal from the cellar. “I am sure that it is overgrown with moss and has taken root in the sand,” he continued, turning to Lonzius (who had already previously admired the appearance of the Rhine bottle, which he loved, according to him, only because it was very similar to a retort), “and We will prove to the doctor how old wine makes people look younger. Take that foot away, Drumme, do you hear, you fool?

Drumme, trembling, crept to the table and took hold of his foot so carefully, as if he was afraid of air spilling out of it.

-What are you afraid of, you idol! – the knight shouted menacingly. - This mug is empty, like your head... Where, unkempt animal, where?.. What are you waiting for, why are you looking at the doctor? Even without him, I will predict birch fever for your nonsense. Damn people! – Bernhard continued, following Drumme with a look of contempt. “You’d rather teach a bear to dance than an Estonian to behave like a human being.” Still, in the castle they are here and there, but in the city - out of nowhere; especially since the local Duma dared to cut off the head of the knight Iskul because he hanged his vassal for two hours within the walls of Revel.

“I must admit, I didn’t think that your ratsgers would have enough intelligence to invent, and enough determination to carry out such a law.”

– It’s not my job to argue whether it’s stupid or smart; I only know that it is useless. What is the law to me when I can fend off an accusation with a broadsword or wash away my own wrongdoing with blood! Moreover, without golden glasses, the law has no eyes; the hanged man is silent, but the living man is afraid of the noose

"Revel Tournament"

The ringing of bells from Olai the Great called parishioners to the evening sermon, and in Revel everything was noisy as if on a festive afternoon. The windows shone with lights, the streets were bustling with people, the chariots and horsemen did not leave.

At this time, the knight Bernhard von Burtneck was sitting calmly under the window in his Revel house, drinking a mug of beer, talking about tomorrow's tournament and admiring through the colored window the crowd of people that flowed in and out along the street, only in the name of the wide one. Judging by his beard, by his own expression, with a silver notch, that is, with gray hair, Burtnek was a man of about fifty, tall and once stately in stature. The features of his open face showed together both kindness and passions that knew neither bridle nor spur, natural imagination and acquired ignorance.

The hall in which he sat was lined with oak boards, on which time and worms had carved out wonderful patterns. In the corners, from all the panels, Arachne's lace fluttered in festoons. The stove, like a knight's castle, humbly stood in the corner, on its twelve legs. To the left, a door hung with a carpet led to the women's quarters through a three-step threshold. On the right wall, in place of family portraits, hung a huge pedigree sheet, on which the ancestor of the Burtnekovs, stretched out on the earth, admired a tree with multi-colored apples emanating from his bosom. The top apple, decorated with the name of Bernhard Burtneck, the rest of the representative of his family, was, by virtue of its ancestry, in relation to the others, like a month before the stars. Beside him, down to the left, was a mounded circle with the name of Minna von... The colorlessness of the future hid the rest, and gilded coats of arms and arabesques, like those with which our Vyazma gingerbreads shine, surrounded the tree of generations.

Have you had your fill, dear doctor? - Burtpek asked the Lyubian resident Loptsius entering the room, who came north to try his luck in Russia and remained in Revel, partly frightened by stories about the cruelty of the Muscovites, partly detained by the city Duma, which did not like to allow either doctors or educators into hostile Rus'. It must be said that with his warm disposition and funny mind he became an indispensable person in Burtnek’s house. No one was better at separating the turkeys at dinner, no one was better at uncorking bottles of Rhine wine, and the baron listened to the truth only from Lontius alone without becoming enraged. He amused the kids by imagining different things on the shadows with his fingers and making a hare out of a scarf. He felt the old aunt's pulse and praised the old days, and made his niece blush with a fire of pleasure, joking about someone cute.

Have you had your fill? - repeated the baron, wiping the foam from his mustache.

“I haven’t had a good time, Baron,” answered the cheerful doctor, unloading various plants from his pockets, as if from greenhouses. - Here are whole bunches of medicinal roots that I collected, and where would you think?.. on the Vyshny Novgorod fortifications!.. This wormwood, for example, healing in the form of gastric tinctures, I picked from a crack in the main tower; I pulled out this chamomile from the seed of one rusty tool, and I, of course, would have collected much more herbs on the wall if the commandant’s cows had not done botanical research there before me.

Well, what do our impregnable, formidable loopholes seem to you like?

Your dirty loopholes, Baron, seem to me impregnable for the garrison itself, because all the shoots have collapsed, and they are only formidable from afar;

half of the cannons are resting on the ground, lettuce is blooming on the ramparts, and in the towers I actually saw more stored potatoes than grapeshots.

Yes, yes... to say this is such a shame, but to conceal it is such a sin! It’s good that such an oversight was made by the sea. After all, how many times have I told the germeister to put all the cannons on their hind legs and not let the cannonballs be taken away to the kitchens.

Well said, Baron; It would be even better if it came true. Then the people of Revel would stop treating their friends, as the Russians treat them, with hot cannonballs in the form of pies. Just yesterday I forcibly doused the fire in my stomach that had flared up from such a firebrand.

And, of course, he didn’t fill it with water, Doctor?

Without a doubt, Malvasia, Monsieur Baron. Don't you know that many substances flare up even more strongly when water is used? And your wild pepper, of course, is worth Greek fire.

“You’ll have plenty of work tomorrow,” he continued, turning the conversation to the tournament.

Works, Baron? Am I a blacksmith? - answered the doctor, exchanging every word for a sip of beer. - Why do you need a surgeon when you break not ribs, but armor! Since these damned solid cuirasses were invented, our brother has to remember his experiences, like the fairy tale of the seven Semyons. Great is the courage to climb into an iron shell, and to stand in battle with an anvil! Really, the horses suffer more from your weapons than the enemies!..

Stop, stop, Gustav, blaspheme our armor because it protects us from enemy swords and your lancets. Better ask the Russians, do they like them? Our men-at-arms are driving away the chainmailers by the thousands.

That's why the Russians don't expect your horse loopholes, but love to catch you at home - in suede. They say gloves made from it are very cheap in Novgorod!..

It’s no wonder: even if it was taken away by a penny, it’s cheaper than what was bought.

Nonsense, Gustav, nonsense! I swear on my spurs that if the Russians had taken even a bridle from me, I would have caught up with the daredevils and cut out girths from their skins...

They also take away the horses of others with bridles, and not a single knight has ever seen girths made of such morocco.

Others... others!.. Others are not my decree. I am sure that the Russians will not forget meeting me near Magolm, near Pskov... near Narva!

I remember this by heart too. But why talk to us about past battles when we are talking about the upcoming tournament? Should I prepare a dressing for my venerable master? I would sincerely wish, Baron, that a beneficent blow would knock you out of the saddle, or that your horse, jealous of the glory of surgery, would break your arm or leg. You would then see the art of Lontius... and even if your dice were jumping like dice in a glass, I guarantee that in a month you yourself would be able to lift a cup to your mouth for my health.

I'll try to better preserve mine. No, my dear Lonzius, Burtnek will no longer throw his opponents from their saddles! It’s inappropriate for him to measure shoulders with boys. Moreover, the summers weighed down my armor, and the strength of my arm flew away with its blows. No, I won’t go to a place I’m not sure where I’ll leave from. They wouldn’t have lured me to this feast if it weren’t for my daughter’s requests and the deal with Baron Ungern. Germey-ster promised to finish it one of these days.

Just promised? That's not a lot. He has been promising me a pass to Moscow for two months and still does not give it, although I do not at all ask Mr. Germeister to take care of the health of my head, which, according to him, can catch a cold from the custom of taking off hats there a mile from the princely palace, but For those who forget, it’s as if they are nailed down so that they won’t be blown away by the wind.

If it is as welcoming to fellow residents as it is to visitors, then you can safely hope that, having arrived here with the first larks, you will return home later than the time when the waders fly to the warm waters.

Could this happen! My cause is as clear as my broadsword, as right as this right hand.

But Baron Ungern, even with his left hand, holds tightly to the Germeister;

they say he is akin to him...

But am I not a brother in the Order? No, doctor, I have no doubt about justice; but I would like to get out of Revel as soon as possible. Here it’s not like in the village... feasts and dinners, from guests and visitors - and, look, money flies away like time, and debts weigh like weights on my neck!.. I swear on my golden spurs, I will soon have nothing to swear on, because you will have to pawn them. Do you, doctor, have any overseas medicine for money consumption?

Even if it existed, Baron, it would remain unused; whoever has money does not need medicine, and whoever does not have it has nothing to buy it with. Through mental alchemy I learned that orvietan for pocket diseases is moderation.

Following this word, I don’t know whether it was intentionally or unintentionally, the doctor clattered his foot so loudly on the table that the bright sound of it seemed to say: “I’m empty.”

But each bottle gives him two. Is your wine very old, Baron?

A little younger than the flood, Mister Doctor; but you will see that it is not watery at all.

Drumme! - Bernhard told him, “tell the housekeeper Caroline to get one of the flat bottles with a green seal from the cellar.” “I am sure that it is overgrown with moss and has taken root in the sand,” he continued, turning to Lonzius (who had already previously admired the appearance of the Rhine bottle, which he loved, according to him, only because it was very similar to a retort), “and We will prove to the doctor how old wine makes people look younger. Take that foot away, Drumme,

Do you hear, fool?

Drumme, trembling, crept to the table and took hold of his foot so carefully, as if he was afraid of air spilling out of it.

What are you afraid of, you idol! - the knight shouted menacingly. - This mug is empty, like your head... Where, unkempt animal, where?.. What are you waiting for, what are you looking at the doctor? Even without him, I will predict birch fever for your nonsense. Damn people! - Bernhard continued, watching Drumme leave with a look of contempt. “You’d rather teach a bear to dance than an Estonian to behave like a human being.” Still, in the castle they are here and there, but in the city - out of nowhere;

especially since the local Duma dared to cut off the head of the knight Iskul because he hanged his vassal for two hours within the walls of Revel.

Frankly, I didn’t think that your ratsgers would have enough intelligence to invent, and enough determination to carry out such a law.

It’s not my job to say whether something is stupid or smart; I only know that it is useless. What is the law to me when I can fend off an accusation with a broadsword or wash away my own wrongdoing with blood! Moreover, without golden glasses, the law has no eyes; the hanged man is silent, but the living one is afraid of the noose (I ask the reader to remember feudal rights. - Author's note.). That is why we send our vassals away in the same way as you send away the sick - without response. To the health of the knights of the sword and the knights of the lancet! What's the wine, doctor?..

Much better than your customs. One more word, Baron: why do you sometimes resort to court in your grievances?

Oh, of course, not out of respect for the laws, but because the force cannot handle it any other way. That’s why I stained my fingers with ink in the Ungern case.

And, in all likelihood, in vain.

Still, probability is better than impossibility. Yes, that's enough; I can’t stand thinking with my head and not with my hands, and every time I happen to think, my head hurts as if I had two feet of Russian honey. Let’s better play a game or two of Pilkentafel: (A type of billiards.

And it will give you movement that is very good for your health. One can safely say about this game with Horace: utile dulci (Useful with pleasant - lat.).

Have mercy, have mercy, spare me from this paganism; with me you can safely hang it on a nail, because out of all Latin I only remember and love the word vale (Farewell - Latin).

So speaking, they left the hall.

On the rainbow of imagination He builds a castle in the air;

His love is in a dream...

But the moment of awakening strikes!

Minna, the only daughter of the knight Burtnek, was a most lovely girl.

In her time, Livonia abounded in beauty more than now, but these fair-haired beauties bore the stamp of dispassion. In the shadow of their maidens, they blossomed like lush tulips, shining but not fragrant.

Removed not by custom, but by habit from men, because they had nothing to say to each other, their occupation was nothing but gossip; all their vanity was limited to their clothes, all their ambition did not aim higher than the top end at the table or the red chair at parties. Their heart was the fifth wheel in their chariot; the mind is such a coin that no one could evaluate or exchange;

and therefore they counted the eras of their lives from ball to ball and checked pleasant memories from their account books. Almost all Livonian beauties were like this, but Minna was not like this. Nature, according to her father, did not put the reed blade in such a beautiful sheath. This “I don’t know - something sweet” animated the features of her face, gave majesty to her steps, dexterity to her techniques, sweetness to her speeches. From her blue eyes, from under her long eyelashes, glances slid... but what glances! They would have set the ice on fire. In short, Minna was one of those beauties who amaze with their beauty and at the same time captivate with their charm. She lost her mother early, but Mother Nature took care of her. Reading did not enlighten her, but the book of light was in front of her, and some concept, replacing experience for girls, saved the innocent from the lures of wealth and the seduction of flattery. Minna soon noticed that she was not understood, that she was not loved as her exalted heart, condemned to beat without an answer, wanted; and this involuntarily solitary feeling drew her into daydreaming. Minna's imagination escaped from the boring circle of dressed-up dolls, from the noisy conversations of knights and painted her the brightest pictures of happiness;

her heart sighed for some vague but lovely ideal; and the heart at eighteen is gunpowder, one bold spark - and goodbye to peace.

While the baron and the doctor were arguing about which of them had the best shot, knocking down the towns of Pilkentafel, Minna was in the nearest room preparing outfits for tomorrow. In the corner behind the curtain, around a long table, three Estonian girls with beaded headbands and silver plaques on their chests were sitting, sewing something. Minna's old aunt was dozing in another corner under the shade of a winged cap, tired of scolding new fashions and her niece's inability to dress. Before Minna stood a blond, stately young man, the son of one of the richest merchants in Reval: he brought her the rich chain she had ordered yesterday.

His blue velvet spenzer was embroidered with gold thread; frequent through buttons hung like berries along the floors, golden fringe adorned the colored lapels of his suede boots, and only the lack of spurs showed that he was not a knight; although his bold posture and intelligent face gave him an advantage over many of them.

So do you like the color purple, dear Edwin? - said Minna, turning around in front of the mirror. - And you think this dress will suit me?

The adjective amiable even then was no longer flattering, referring to the lower; it also reminded Edwin of his condition, but it was sweet to his heart. However, he was silent, immersed in dreamy admiration of Minna’s beauty.

“Wake up, Edwin,” she said in a half-touched, half-kind voice.

So, I dreamed, Fraulein Minna; forgive me or, better yet, blame yourself for it. The sound of your voice makes him lose his mind before the words reach him.

It seems we were talking about colors, not sounds, Edwin!

Guilty once again, Fraulein Minna, I forgot that ladies love diversity more than harmony. To your question, however, I will also answer with a question... What outfit does not suit your slender figure, what color, what decoration can elevate or change your lovely face?

Edwin finished this greeting in a trembling voice, but was pleased that he said it, of course, more than the reader, whom I ask, at least for me, to forgive my hero: firstly, because he did not read a single French dictionary of compliments, and -secondly, he stood in front of a beautiful girl, to whom he was very partial. Oh! Who among us has not sometimes seemed like a disciple in front of secular beauties? who hasn't given them awkward praise? God knows why: when the heart gets angry, the wit hides so far away that it cannot be lured out either by pleas or threats. And whatever you say, I don’t believe in verbose love in novels.

Flattery is counterfeit gold, Edwin; I don't take it personally, -

Minpa said.

Flattery, but not sincerity, Minna! Isn’t that what I told you, what your trusty mirror assures you of, what (you see that I know how to tell the truth) you yourself do not doubt?

Is that why you consider me vain and self-loving?

I only know that modesty does not interfere with either sight or hearing...

Who will think about me tomorrow, when all the beauties for which Livonia is famous and Revel shines have come here!

And it’s not for nothing that it shines, Fraulein Minna. We have the right to be especially proud now: the first of them will grace tomorrow’s tournament with her presence and inspire everyone with her gaze.

Who is this first? - Minna asked in an unsteady voice. - And does it seem like this to everyone or just to you? Are your eyes not bribed by your heart?..

I think the opposite, Fraulein Minna: her eyes captivated my heart.

You talk about your feelings, but I would like to know her name, -

said Minna more coldly. - Can I hear it without touching your modesty?

Ah, Minna, you touched a tender chord!

Meanwhile, he looked at Minna so tenderly that it seemed that her cheeks were on fire from the flame of his gaze. Blushing, she lowered hers and was silent, but her heart spoke all the louder. Edwin was cheeky, ardent, skillful, Minna -

sensitive and lovely. He knew how to dream and feel, and the Livonian knights could only make people laugh and rarely, rarely amuse. She loved - he aroused lofty thoughts, spoke with fervor, if not with eloquence, and captivated, if not convinced. Traveling around Europe for two years, he learned social decency and education, and was far superior in dexterity to the knights of Livonia, who grew up hunting and matured in robberies, knights who were unfriendly with ladies, proud of everyone, arrogant among themselves, who preferred to drink to the health of the beauties in their circle than to spend time in their conversation. They thought to captivate Minna with stories about their love, their fidelity; Edwin told her about herself. They counted the heads of the animals and enemies they had killed, he recalled the hearts she had captured; they looked at her diamond earrings, he admired her eyes. The consequence is not difficult to guess, for fortunes are not invented for lovers, and love, like another color on a barren cliff, grows even in hopelessness. Father Edvinov’s shop was the first in the city, and, as luck would have it, it was opposite the windows of Burtnekov’s house. All expensive fabrics, all artificial products, pearls and valuable stones were there. The girls of that century loved to dress up no less than ours in the capital, and the beautiful Edwin’s shop was always full of visitors. Need I say that Minna went there often? And although this shop served for Revel instead of our English store (that is, a meeting place for young people), it was not just her passion for clothes that attracted her there, it was not just the desire to please everyone that kept her there. Either you need to buy velvet, then you need to remake a necklace, then a ring has come apart, or something wonderful has been brought from overseas. And every time, the friendly Edwin hurried to meet them, unfolded the damasks in front of his aunt, and sparkled his niece with diamonds and eyes.

He told her about the foreign land, listened to her with admiration; and usually a bitter sigh fluttered his shiny locks, and with tears in his eyes he followed his beloved with his eyes, did not take them off her window and languished in silence like a blade of grass. It is hard to love without hope of happiness, it is hard without hope of reciprocity; but it is incomparably harder to see yourself loved and not dare to evoke recognition with a word of love, to thirst for it as heavenly joy, and to flee as a crime of honor; do not have the right to be jealous and melt from fear of betrayal;

blame your coldness for her sorrows, multiply your own torments, now with reproaches against love, now against duty!.. Then the passions from the boiling heart fly into the mind in black vapors and poisonous despair gnaws into the soul!.. O friends, friends! Have pity on the one who loved in this way.

And you could say that curiosity alone inspired my question -

Minna finally said, raising her blue eyes with such a tenderly reproachful gaze that the stern expression on Edviyov’s face was mixed in an instant with a touching one, her voice froze, her heart seemed to be pierced, but this feeling was sweet, like the first waking breath after a terrible dream.

Their souls merged into one expressive, but inexpressible look.

Minna came to her senses.

So, dear Edwin, if you were a knight, what color would you choose for tomorrow's tournament?

Forever, forever, Fraulein Minna, I would choose the color of the first beauty;

a color composed of sky blue and earth decoration pink; I would choose,” he continued passionately, grabbing her hand, “the lovely, incomparable lilac color, your color, Minna!”

Minna's hand glowed and trembled; her head involuntarily leaned on Edvino’s shoulder...

Oh! why aren't you a knight? - she whispered. Edwin's castle in the air shattered.

Oh! Why am I not a knight! - he cried beside himself. - Why am I unhappy with my well-being!

And at the same time, a hot kiss of delight and a cold tear of hopelessness were imprinted on Minna’s hand.

Minna, Minna! - the father shouted from the other room.

Minna! - her aunt repeated in her sleep.

In love, gain and loss, My rights are in my damask steel.

Minna, hearing the call of her father, straightened her hair and, raising the cutter to hide the glow of her cheeks in it, went out into the hall.

Edwin followed her.

Thank the gentlemen of the council for the honor, dear Minna. You have been elected queen for tomorrow...” said the baron, rubbing his hands with pleasure. - Thank you; I gave my word for myself and for you...

One of the heralds in a dalmatic embroidered with coats of arms knelt down and handed her a golden crown of clubs on a velvet pillow, and Minna, embarrassed by the accident, took it, babbling something in response to the pompously stupid greeting of the heralds.

“I don’t congratulate you,” Edwin said quietly, putting his hand on his heart, “

you owned hearts even without a crown.

Minna blushed and was silent.

The heralds met at the door with the knight Donnerbatz, one of the most terrible fighters and the most zealous seekers of Minna.

“I congratulate the baron and kiss my queen’s hand,” he said, bowing awkwardly and jingling his spurs behind every word, as if reminding him by that (and only by that) that he was a knight... “With my falcon, Fraulein Minna, I swear that tomorrow for every the sparkle of your eyes will fly so sparks from the armor that the sky will become hot. You will see how I will distinguish myself before you; My horse is a sight for sore eyes: he dances along the thread and makes voltes on the thaler with a short gallop. Do me a favor, Fraulein Minna, let me put on a purple scarf - I’ve already ordered a purple saddle cloth.

Much honor... thank you for your attention... but I change my colors so often that you can unmistakably be surrounded by a rainbow.

And be a striped jester,” the doctor said quietly.

Great idea! - Donnerbatz exclaimed, clapping his hands. - That's what they call agreeing without saying yes. But I will make the purple stripe wider than the rest together.

Please sit down, gentlemen,” Burt-nek said to Donnerbatz and Edwin, whom he caressed with heart and gold. - You, knight, for this evening I grant you the minister of her beautiful Majesty - my daughter;

Explain to her the royal position, and you, dear Edwin, try so that the queen does not forget us, ordinary people. I need to talk about business.

The young people sat down in one corner near the aunt without speeches, and the doctor and Burtnek sat down at a table in the other.

“Welcome, old cuckoo,” said the Baron to the incoming Freulich, the Germeister’s messenger, “welcome, if your appearance does not portend evil!”

And, father, your high baronial mercy! “What do you think,” answered the short messenger, putting his gloves in his belt decorated with a badge and his whip in the mouth of his boot. “I’m like the wooden cuckoo that sits above the clock in the town hall, predicting profit just as often and just as accurately as it predicts loss.”

What's new, Freilich?

What's new in this old world, Mr. Baron? - continued the talkative German, untying his bag. “I don’t even have a hat for tomorrow’s holiday, even though I wore out my old one, diligently bowing to the gentlemen knights.”

Not only to us, you bow to all the walls of the intoxicated room. However, here are two kreuzers in exchange for your efforts.

Thank you humbly, noble knight. For each cross on these coins, I will put ten for your soul.

Wouldn't it be better to drink to my health? - said the baron, grinning, accepting the papers. - Of course, summons from the germmeister?

Orders, noble knight.

Orders?.. Why dare he order me?..

How do we know this, Mr. Baron? Why should we meddle in something other than our own business?

There is a sentry on the seal; yes, however, if the letter had been more transparent to Kirschwasser, I, an illiterate person, would have learned no more than I do now.

It’s true, it’s true,” Burtnek grumbled to himself, “you can judge the contents of letters just as much as my pointer dog can judge the taste of the quail he brings.” Go ahead, Freilich.

- “Ba... ba... to the baron... Bur... Bur...” Take the discourtesy of the writer and the handwriting of the scribe; it’s as coherent as a Hungarian digital recording; at least he could have written my title in big broken letters!

ABOUT! “Of course,” said Knight Donnerbatz, without listening to him.

Without a doubt,” the aunt added from another corner, counting the loops of the striped stocking she was knitting with needles.

“This is even more polite,” the doctor said with a grin, “the letter is written in broken language.”

“Your op is very flexible in arguments,” Burtnek objected, “let’s see his trot in action... read it, perhaps... My eyes are weak, I can’t make out: the letters are small, like poppy seeds, and it’s not for nothing that I’m getting drowsy from one line.

God grant that you can sleep peacefully from them,” said the doctor, running his eyes over the paper. - From the Hermeister of the Livonian Order, Reichard von Bruggeney, pre... at...

Take the glasses,” said the baron.

Be patient... - the doctor objected. - Your titles are as dark and long as a September night.

Not further, but back, Baron! We, like pilgrims of promise, take three steps forward and two steps back. So: "Germeister Bruggeney, to the noble knight of the Livonian Order of the Knights of the Cross, Baron Emmanuel Christopher Conrad... von Burtneck, born..."

You're crazy, doctor...

Sorry, I read too much. I’m so used to writing recipes for your arrogant ladies that their titles constantly ring in my ear. Would you believe that Frager Knips-Knops, when she was dying, did not want to take medicine for something that I did not put on the prescription: for nee so-and-so...

What need do I have before her birth and death and your mortal desire to weave my fairy tales into someone else’s business! No matter what, you are like my groom Dietrich, who used to love to weave ribbons into my horse’s mane when the harvest trumpet was already sounded...

You have climbed onto your horse, Baron, but a person on foot is not a companion to a horseman. However, we are close to the end. The order seems to be given in addition to the titles; he is all in four words: “fix your bridge over the Vaide swamp, which is on the high road to Dorpat.”

Let him move it himself with his glassine, but I really have nothing to do with it; I never go to visit that direction.

Don't go, there's no reason to. I only feel sorry for the poor travelers out of necessity, they are not cranes: they will not fly across the swamp.

This is their business, not mine.

But the high road is a worldly thing; and how does it go through your property...

Therefore, I have the right to do whatever I want in it, much less do nothing.

This means that where many do everything they want, everyone tolerates what they don’t want.

Another one, another one, doctor...

Perhaps the third,” said Lonzius, burning his foot.

“I’m talking about paper,” Burt-nek said with annoyance.

“I was thinking about the foot,” answered Lonzius with feigned simplicity, taking it off the candle.

- “Germeister...” and the like... “According to the complaint of the knight Baron von Burtnek against the Freiger Ungern about the land adjacent to the castle of Althofen and adjacent to the neighboring lands of the said Ungern, allegedly seized by him from the first without right and lawlessly, by raid and with an armed hand and violence and robbery, with threats of repeating them in the future, I, with the Vogts and commanders of the Order, having examined this matter, found..." An error against grammar! - cried the doctor, stopping.

“Tell me better, against the truth,” Burt-nek objected. - The Germeister only celebrates with the Vogts, but judges and displays his head...

- "... having examined it, I found, according to certificates and testimony of witnesses, that the said land (inventory on the back) was previously captured from Freiger Ungern’s father at different times and by various lies; and therefore we declare to everyone that Freiger Ungern had the right to use to return the property by force, without seeing satisfaction for amicable deals and our repeated demands, and that we recognize him as the legal owner of the said plot; and we order the knight Baron von Burtneck to immediately and unquestioningly cede to Ungern Milkental with all the pastures, runs, paddocks, meadow and forest dachas , cornfields and meadows, standing and living waters, with all lands and open spaces without exception, and lay a new border from the Kuremse stream to the Pigusa lake, to the creek where the horses are bathed, from there to the left past the red pine that was burned by lightning, to the Yumalova reap, and from there to the shootout to Poigina’s new bathhouse, and from there..."

Let him get the hell out of there! - the baron cried, jumping up from his chair... and his anger, ignited by every word, finally burst like fireworks, and abusive crackers flew in all directions... - That's justice! These are the laws!.. When I was strong and daring, when my spurs rang louder than others at feasts and my broadsword kissed its sheath less often, then not a single paragraph soul dared to show its nose to me and all these fat Vogts von bowed like that across the street. It used to be that even on the episcopal strip I stuck my spear instead of the face of a pillar, no one dared to make a word - but now, look, perhaps! These walking inkwells, these skull-skinned clerks decided to press the border to the very moat of the castle, so that Ungern, look, will demand payment from me for the shadow of the towers that will fall on his land, for every glass of water from the stream - and what water!

“You can do without water,” the doctor objected, raising his voice to force the baron to listen to the end of the definition. - “As a result, an official will soon dress up to bring the aforementioned Freiger Ungeria into possession...”

Just let him come to me... Just let him come... I’ll make him spin head over heels under the whips... I’ll ask him to taste the disputed water in the lake!..

- “And then, according to custom, having gathered healthy boys from the neighboring villages of both opponents, flog them at every noticeable place of the new demarcation, so that they would remember it and in disputes that might happen in the future could serve as obvious witnesses...”

This will not happen... I swear by my spurs, it will not happen!.. Everyone knows that for a just cause I would not spare my vassals... but in this case, am I a villain to agree to turn their backs with a memorial book for headless judges? .

What will the germmeister say to this?

What I will not obey... Why should I value his favor, his weathervane friendship? I would rather have two open enemies in front of me than one such friend behind me! Uygern will not see the promised land like yesterday; for that matter, he won’t get it without a fight, even for a flower pot. Letters are not soldiers, but I have a living palisade with iron tops to greet the uninvited guest and not one pair of strong hands to show him the way home.

So the irritated baron exclaimed, stamping his feet, and his voice rang louder and louder, to the point that the glasses and goblets standing in the old cabinet rang against each other.

This hurricane caught the old auntie in the middle of a yawn and turned it into a sign of surprise. Knight Donnerbatz, who drank to Minna's health as a compliment, did not bring the goblet to his lips, and the goblet, bending halfway, dripped precious moisture little by little onto the floor. Only Edwin and Minna stood up, moved by participation.

Good Lontius, having thrown off the playful expression from his face, listened restlessly to the baron and followed his movements with his eyes.

Yes, yes,” continued Burtnek, “I will prove it to both Ungern and the Germeister...

that Burtnek did not live and die without friends.

I swear on my honor,” Edwin cried from the bottom of his heart. - You have them, Burtnek!..

My gold is yours.

“Have me,” said Donperbats, staggering, “every day before lunch, and always my daredevils.”

Thank you... thank you sincerely... - answered the touching baron, shaking hands with them. - But the morning is wiser than the evening, and tomorrow we will talk about business... My God!.. Tomorrow is the tournament, and Ungern will probably still snatch the award, and my daughter will have to crown my villain!.. Damn the word... I can’t refuse, but I can’t stand it... I won’t survive the robber’s ridicule of this gray hair, and where? Before the whole Revel, before all the nobility and knighthood? Friends!.. Friend Donnerbatz! You alone can save the old man from shame; you are strong and huge and will break Ungeria like a reed. Only laziness prevented you from measuring yourself with him until now... But now... Listen, Donnerbatz, I know that you like my Minna... but only the winner of Ungern will be her husband... Here is my hand, my knightly word, that friend or foe, whoever knocks Ungern out of the saddle, I give him my daughter and my eternal gratitude.

A hand and a word, Baron,” Donnerbatz cried joyfully, striking his hand with his hand, “and let witches of all colors make me their hobby, if I leave even a drop of soul in Ungern, as in this cup, if I don’t crush it in the same way!”

With this word, the silver cup, crumpled into a ball, flew to the floor.

Father, dear father! - exclaimed the frightened Minna.

Minna... I don't like repetition and contradiction. My command must be your will, and my will must be your desire: what is said is sacred.

The winner of Ungern will be a good husband for you and a good protector for me.

Minna, turning pale, sank into a chair. Edwin stood in the middle of the room, his eyes sparkling; his chest was agitated, his right hand seemed to be clutching the hilt of a sword, and suddenly, like a lion, he proudly shook his curls... and disappeared.

Where, where, dear Edwin? - Burtnek shouted after him; but there was no answer. “Eccentric!.. and nice fellow,” he said, “say the word, and Edwin gives everything without interest or mortgage.”

Well done,” Donnerbatz repeated, “even though he’s not a knight, you can’t fool him with the teeth of a horse.”

“The clever one,” the doctor added, “although she argues with me about the essence of life, she has one belief that the world was born from an egg...

"A wonderful young man, a priceless man!" - thought the half-dead Minna, but she did not say it out loud.

I write in haste, and if a stain

Be on this sheet "its not what it appears,

My eyeballs burn and throb, but have no tears.

(I write in a hurry, and if there is a spot on this page, it is not what it seems: my eyes burn and tremble, but there are no tears in them. Byron

Edwin ran home like crazy.

The cloak fell to the floor. The bedroom door shattered from the blow of his foot, and he heartily tore the candle from the hands of the senior servant...

It’s over... It’s decided... - he said, gnashing his teeth. - Tournament and Minna

People, people!.. Fans of prejudices!.. Oh, why can’t I stand with a spear at her threshold and challenge to battle every daring person who wants her hand!

Hermann! “I’m coming,” he cried to his servant.

Where? - he asked in amazement.

Who dares to ask where? I'm going, and that's enough; the wind is good;

there are many ships: get ready.

Roasting the young man's first love; But how bitter is the first loss!

Edwin sat for a long time, leaning his elbows on the table and covering his burning face with both hands. Passions swirled in his chest, and finally they poured out in a disorderly letter; here it is:

“Everything has been decided for me. I am writing to you because I would not be able to talk to you tomorrow, and I should not write after the tournament - then your hand will belong to someone else; someone else... I am a madman, a madman! From what hope , by what right did you dare to raise your gaze to the best flower of Livonia!.. Or did you think that an ardent, loyal heart is worth a knight’s coat of arms? Did you think...

No, I didn’t think anything, I could only feel, only love. A moment's sleep of happiness! I am crying dearly for you in reality... Do you know, lovely Minna, what the poison of jealousy is, have you experienced the pangs of hopeless, desperate love? I pray to God that you never feel it!.. Despair has visited me for a long time, and it seems that all the hours, all the days, lost in distraction, flashed by in delight, have now swirled into minutes, into endless minutes!.. Behind every heartbeat , for you only beating, thousands of annoying thoughts, one after another, one blacker than the other, already manage to torment my soul, and every drop of blood slowly pours poison into my veins.

I feel that I am writing nonsense... Forgive my madness and insolence that I am writing to you, kind, dear Minna; or not, I ask you, I beg you, be angry with me, pour out your just anger on the guilty one: then it will be easier for me to leave you, to be separated from my adored Minna, to flee that homeland where I am forbidden to earn with the sword a dear one, whose reciprocity I have earned with my heart.

Be angry and unforgiving, otherwise the meek gaze of your heavenly eyes will turn my resolve into smoke, another glance, like today... and I am fascinated - and then what? My vengeance may be as excessive as my passion is immense.

Save me with your indignation, incomparable one! I’ll just wait for the tournament, I’ll just find out the lucky one who will have my luck, and at that very moment the ship will take me away, wherever the wind blows, and the better the further... I will wander around the world in order to forget myself, not in order to forget you ... No! I could not do this, even if I wanted to. The memories and grief of my former love will be my joy... I will live with them until I die from them. Be happy, dear Minna, and believe the heartfelt, although not chivalrous, word that no one can wish this for you more sincerely than me, just as no one could love more purer and more ardently. Goodbye Miina! You will not hear anything more from me or about me.

Edwin raised his hand twice to throw a farewell letter, and hesitated in indecision... Finally, his heart sinking, he threw across the street the apple to which the letter was tied, and it fell on the floor of Minna’s bedroom with the sound of broken glass.

"Amour aux dames, honneur aux braves!"

(Love to the ladies, honor to the brave! (French))

Flies like a whirlwind, like fire Before the motionless formation; And the golden-maned horse fluffs beneath the future hero.

This was in the month of May; The bright sun rolled toward noon in the transparent ether, and only in the distance did the canopy of the sky touch the water with a silver-cloud fringe. The light spokes of the Revel bell towers burned across the bay, and the gray loopholes of Vyshgorod, leaning on the cliff, seemed to grow into the sky and, as if overturned, pierced the depths of the mirror waters. Playful pigeons, excited by the noise and ringing of bells, circled over the steep roofs; everything was alive, everything was breathing with joy, everything was celebrating the return of spring, the resurrection of nature.

At dawn, Lang and Breitstrasse - the two roads leading to Domplatz in Vyshgorod - were blocked by crowds of people. Estonians and German handicraftsmen, servants and townspeople hurried to take a place to watch the knightly tournament;

however, few have achieved this honor. The small area barely provided space for the fighters, and around the houses there were places for people of honor.

All the windows were open, laid with pillows, and hung with carpets. Ribbons and colorful fabrics were wafting from everywhere; the diversity of houses, outfits and decorations presented a strange but pleasant sight to the eyes. Finally, an hour before noon, trumpets sounded throughout the city, and in one minute the windows began to boil with spectators, the amphitheater was filled with the best merchants and old knights.

Under the canopy sat the Germeister, in a white velvet robe with a black cross on the left shoulder, in a half-caftan with slits lined with clasps, and in boots with lace overhangs descending from the knees. The gold embroidered collar of the shirt lay on the iron mantle that knights wore then, so that their rank could be seen even in their home clothes. The lining of the dress, boots and gloves was crimson. A gold chain with an order cross showed his dignity, and two feathers proudly rose above his head, as he did above the heads of others. On the hilt of the sword hung a garnet rosary, as if an emblem of the combination of spiritual and military power, for then the power of the bishops had already been destroyed. On his left hand sat the queen of the holiday, Minna, in a lek, in a lilac dress with ruffles, with gold lace, in a scarf embroidered with silk, studded with pearls, and large curls scattered over her shoulders, intertwined with a smoky blanket. She timidly moved her gaze, and languid sadness was visible on her face, as if the one-day queen of beauty felt that she was serving as a living image of the short-term reign of beauty!

While the spectators ceremoniously sat down on the benches, arguing for the honor of the seats more than for their convenience, Loncius and Edwin stood at the entrance, from where they could see the entire circumference, and out of the kindness of their hearts they sorted out neighbors and neighbors. Often, emotional grief, irritated by the general fun in which we cannot participate, pours out bitter ridicule; the same thing happened to Edwin: his bile evaporated with slander, and, as is usual in such circumstances, caustic, but rarely witty.

“I’m sorry for poor Minna,” said the doctor, to whom everything seemed funny. - Your master, who is so proud of his coats of arms, which really look very much like a bakery sign, is afraid of losing his symmetrical position, and she has no one to judge her neighbors with: to notice that so-and-so’s collar is poorly starched, that so-and-so’s feathers are disheveled, or the mustache is too waxed. What a contradiction - the Germeister and Minna!

This is not a contradiction, but proof that joy and boredom are the closest neighbors,” answered Edwin. - But, doctor, you asked me to show you some of the women and men of Revel - follow mine with your views. This dressed-up lady, for example, very similar to a ship statue, is the wife of the rats-ger Klaus; she, they say, really turns the helm of our thought and has more than once run our course aground. Next to her is an exemplary couple: Burgomaster Fegezak with his dearest half; they burn with one passion - for glass, that is, he for the glass, and she for the mirror. This pocket lady, who, talking incessantly, hangs herself around the neck of her fat husband, like a bell around the neck of an ox, is the noblewoman Segefels. They say he took a little wife so that she wouldn’t bother leading him by the nose, but now it hurts his ears. Speaking of ears... That young fellow, it seems, hides their length in his tall cutter - this is Landrat Ezelkranz; behind him sits the singer Fraulein Liliendorff; experts say that her voice is a mixture of a nightingale and an owl; and her ethereal neighbor, whose face and dress blossomed like a rainbow, is Baroness Hertzfisch. She should have left our sky long ago.

Full, full, Edwin, about women. I know that there is nothing to say about the modest ones, there is nothing to say about the pretty ones, and I am bored with the others. Now it's the gentlemen's turn. To whom, for example, does this head belong, lying on a huge Spanish milling cutter, like an apple on a platter?

To anyone, to anyone, doctor!.. He gives her away to keep her for a reasonable price. This is the squandered nobleman Luft; he composes gravestone inscriptions and wedding songs, plans for knights to enter the land of enemies and to meet with the wives of friends; looks horses in the mouth, brings merchants together and treats hunting dogs... This is the brightest head in all of Revel.

No wonder there is a calico glow around her. But who is this knight, dressed to the nines... with a falcon on his arm, hung with ribbons and buttons, like a wedding horse?

This is a martyr and an example of panache... Vogt von Tu-lein... In his wardrobe, it seems, he did not consult with the decree of Plettenberg: (Ger. Plettenberg in 1503 issued, in order to maintain luxury, a decree in which he prescribed simplicity in dress and attire of all classes; but this remained without effect. - Note.

Well, and the one with the snipe figure is short?

And a short person? This is a corrupt soul, witzbe-treiber Rabeshntral. But then the knights arrive. In their head is Wesenberg's commander Hartknoch: he is as simple as an ostrich, whose feathers he boasts so much about; next to him the Dorpat Vogt Zwiebel gallops on a Gothic horse; through its transparency (Seine

Durchlaucht. His lordship, his transparency is a German title. - Note.

Behind them is the fat Frager Fresser on a horse so skinny that you could hang a hat on its bones and mistake it for the rider’s shadow... He pawned his wife’s necklace to make silver horseshoes for his horse... More...

Edwin would not have finished his biographical satire if Knight Burtnek had not separated him from the doctor, calling him to him.

The knights, at the sound of trumpets and kettledrums, rode two by two behind the bars, spun their heavy horses, bowed to the ladies, and bowed their spears before the hermeister.

Their cuirasses were not distinguished by their pleasant design; shields and crests and long blankets of horses were decorated with such heraldic birds, animals and herbs that would drive all the naturalists of the world crazy. But all this glitter of armor, the diversity of feathers and scarves, the sewing of saddle blankets and blankets, the neighing of horses, the strumming of harness and the splashing and diversity all around - everything was amazing in its strangeness, it was wild, but captivating.

And so the heralds read the regulations of the tournament, and the knights galloped out, leaving room for battle. The trumpet sounds again, and already the spears are breaking on the opponents’ chests, and the knocked out knights are crawling in the dust from the weight of their armor more than from the force of the blows. Often the willful horses carry them apart, and the spears strike the air;

Often, having bumped their foreheads, they get tangled in the other’s harness and, like roosters, catch the enemy’s mistake. Now the Riga knight Grotenhelm has twice remained the winner and took a golden scarf as a prize from the hands of the queen of beauty. The trumpets thundered for him,

The people cheered. Then the proud Ungern just left, who seemed to despise easy victories and was waiting for another to be crowned with them to decorate his triumph. They flew together, collided, and Grotenhelm rolled over his head with his spear. The funniest thing of all was the blow of Ungernov's spear: he turned Grotenhelm's helmet to the left in a circle, and he, jumping on the yoga, could not free himself from it for a long time, gasping for breath and seeing nothing. Laughter and applause flew from all sides. Ungern remained, waiting for opponents.

Throwing away the reins and leaning on his spear, he stood majestically in the middle of the square.

The trumpets thundered, the heralds called the hunters, but the knight's strength was terrifying, -

no one showed up.

All the ladies, all the spectators exclaimed: “Give Ungern the award, give it to the best, the bravest!”

Open it! - shouted the unknown knight, approaching, - and at the same moment, without waiting for the bars to be opened, he grabbed his horse in his spurs and flew over it like an arrow.

The tail of the besieged horse lay on the ground, but the knight did not move in the saddle, only the feathers from his helmet rolled over his shoulders and stood up again from the blow. For a minute he stood rooted to the spot, slightly playing with the reins, as if wanting to look around and let himself be seen, and then quietly, with a manege step, he rode around the lists, greeting the assembly with a bow of his head. Its casing was lowered, the shield was without a coat of arms, the armor was blued with gold notching. His horse, fiery in color and pace, snored and snorted and was all in the wind, as if he was walking on a cloud of dust blown up by his feet.

What a handsome man! - Fraulein Louise von Klocken said, squinting, to her brother as the unknown person drove by.

What a stallion! - exclaimed her brother, - in all respects, - even the tail is a pipe. This picture is not a horse. The sacrum - at least sleep on it, the legs are thinner than those of the Italian Brencelli... and let them shoot me like peas if he dances no better than Vogt Tulane... just doesn’t speak.

“Only donkeys have this privilege,” said Tulane, who happened to be sitting in the back, with annoyance.

“I see that now,” von Kloken answered laughing. - But who is this unknown daredevil?

Did he really manage to dry his head so quickly? I left him for the sixth bottle of Hungarian at breakfast at Ratsger Lid's.

Meanwhile, the knight rode up to the hermeister, bowed his spear, bowed low and low to Minna - and suddenly raised his horse on its hind legs, threw it to the right and galloped at full speed towards Ungern. Everyone gasped, afraid of the blow, but he immediately reined in his horse so close that the mouthpiece sounded against the mouthpiece...

What does it mean? - Ungern said with annoyance, amazed at such audacity.

If a knight wants to take a lesson in heraldry from me,” the unknown man answered mockingly, “then throwing a glove means a challenge to battle.”

Knight, I have been driving out spurs with this pointer for a long time, and more than one has lost stirrups from it!

Ungern! We came together not to boast about our exploits, but to accomplish them. I challenge you to a duel to the death.

Ha! Ha! Ha! You challenge me to a fight to the death... No, brother, this is too funny!

Why are you laughing, proud man? I haven’t tickled you with my spear yet;

Be careful that they don’t cry for you for your laughter.

Oh, you nameless braggart! You deserve to be trampled under the shoes of my horse.

Insolent and idle talker! Pick up your glove or get out of the tournament.

I will drive you out of the world, you madman! - cried the irritated Ungern, thrusting his spear into the enemy’s glove. - And I will also stick your head on a spear.

Feel better to see if yours is screwed on tightly. For life and death, Ungern!

This is your verdict... Bow to the rooster on the Olaev bell tower for the last time - you will never see each other again...

And you prepare a congratulatory speech to Satan...

Let's see what color the blood is that moves this impudent tongue!

Let’s see what kind of lining this inflated heart has,” the knights said as they parted.

And so the heralds divided the light and the wind in half, leveled the spears, and put a trumpet to their lips to conduct battle. Standing up, leaning forward, everyone breathes slightly, moves their eyes slightly. The hearts of ladies beat with fear, the hearts of men with curiosity; Everyone's gaze is intensely attentive. Ungern gathers and heats up his horse in order to tear it off instantly; sits in the saddle and twirls his spear. The stranger stands motionless, the sun does not play on his armor, not a hair of the mane of his horse moves...

The pipe is thundering.

The opponents rushed at each other like a whirlwind - once, twice, and there were no spears, but the blow was so strong that the stranger staggered, fell on the horse’s neck, and the feathers of the helmet mixed with the horse’s plume, and the runner carried him around the lists. Loud splashes filled the air, the ladies waved their scarves in Ungern's approval.

This is how people are, this is how women are: they are always on the winning side.

Nice, nice, fellow countryman! - the Revelites shouted to him. - You sit so tightly in the saddle, as if you were cast from the same piece as the horse.

“This is hardly true,” said Lonzius to Burtnek, who was neither alive nor dead waiting for the end of the battle.

Now he knows what it’s like to pick forget-me-nots from Ungernov’s spear, -

added another.

“I’m tea, such stars sparkle in his eyes that you wouldn’t see them in your dreams,” said the third.

Print out his cover! - many shouted.

But the knight woke up, and the ridicule aroused new strength in him. This is how water smokes and boils from a drop of acid, this is how a dying flame flares up from a few grains of gunpowder.

Again, with new spears, the knights rushed towards: one with confidence in victory, the other with the malice of vengeance... They fought, and Ungern fell.

Heated, the stranger jumped off his horse and, stepping on the chest of the half-dead Ungern, prostrate in the dust, lifted his shoulder with the tip of his sword, pointed the sword at his chest and leaned on him.

Well, Ungern, who is the winner?

“Fate,” he answered barely intelligibly.

And death, if you don’t confess; who defeated you?

You, you! - answered Ungern, gnashing his teeth.

This is not enough. You took the land from Burtnek by untruth. Give it up, or in a minute the earth that you are now covering with your body will be enough for you. Yes or no?..

I agree to everything!

Do you hear, heralds and knights! I give him life only on this condition.

Like an electric shock, delight overwhelmed the audience, hitherto silent, either out of fear for Ungern, or out of sympathy for the stranger.

Glory to the magnanimous, reward and honor to the winner! - rang out in a thunder of applause. - He, he has a reward! - everyone exclaimed.

The unknown knight won the gold cup! - the judges of the tournament decided, and the heralds proclaimed it.

Bowing majestically in all directions, the knight approached the dais where the hermeister was sitting with the queen of beauty; bowed to them and leaned on the sword in silence.

Noble knight,” said Hermeister Bruggeney, standing, “you have shown your strength, your art and generosity; show us your victorious face to accept the reward!

Dear Germeister! important reasons forbid me to satisfy your curiosity.

These are the tournament regulations.

In this case, I renounce my rights and sincerely thank the judges for an honor that I cannot use.

Having said this, the unknown man turned away from the Germeister with a bow...

Brave paladin! - Minna said then, trembling at her fate, filling the goblet with Hungarian wine. - Will you really refuse to answer my greetings for the health of the winner?.. As the queen of the holiday, I demand obedience, as a lady, I ask you...

She took a sip and brought the cup to the stranger.

No no! - he said, moving his glass away with his hand; it was clear that passions were fighting in him - he hesitated. - Minna! - he finally exclaimed, grabbing the cup, - let it be!.. I would drink death from the cup that you touched with your lips... Leaders and knights! For the health and happiness of the queen of beauty!

With the thunder of the pipes, the stranger lifted the casing...

You will not rise from the centuries-old dust, You will not shine under the banner of the cross.

The heavy sword of the heirs of Rohrbach, the beautiful beauty of Livonia.

N. Yazykov

(Rohrbach was the first master of the Order of the Livonian Sword Bearers

The incident that I present now took place in 1538, that is, fifteen years after the introduction of the Lutheran faith.

The Order of the Livonian Crusaders had recently lost its head in the Prussian Order, devoted to Sigismund, and was already decrepit in terrible loneliness.

The long peace with Russia rusted the sword, terrible for her in the hand of Plettepberg.

The knights, having indulged in luxury, only knew what to fly and celebrate, and only rare skirmishes with Novgorod riders and Swedish Varangians kept their warlike spirit alive. However, if they did not inherit the courage of their ancestors, their pride grew higher and higher every year. The spirit of that age divided the metals themselves into noble and base; Is it any wonder that, while assuring others, the knights themselves, from the pure soul, were convinced that they were made of at least noble porcelain clay. It must be said that the nobility, which was then formed from land owners, contributed a lot to this. It sought to merge with chivalry, therefore, it aroused in it a desire exclusively to retain its benefits, which, God knows why, it called rights, and to morally humiliate new rivals.

Meanwhile, the merchants, generally the most active, honest and useful class of all the inhabitants of Livonia, flattered by the ease of becoming nobles through the purchase of real estate or incited to outshine the nobles with pomp, rushed into luxury. The nobles, in order to be inferior to them and compare with the knights, depleted their newly acquired estates. The knights, in the fight against both of them, mortgaged castles, completely ruined their vassals... and the disastrous consequence of such an unnatural supremacy of classes was inevitable and not far away. Discord reigned everywhere; the weak undermined the strong, and the rich envied them.

The military-trading society of the Blackheads (Schwarzen-Haupter), like the city militia of Revel, enjoyed almost knightly advantages, and therefore was hated by the knights. The turning point was approaching: Livonia resembled a desert, but its cities and castles shone with the bright colors of abundance, like an autumn leaf before falling. There were feasts everywhere; tournaments called all the youth, all the beauties together, and the Order noisily lived out its glory, wealth and very existence. Where did we stop?

What will be will be, what will be will be, and what will be is what God wills.

Bogdan Khmelpitspiy

Slowly the unfamiliar knight opened his pale face and fell unconscious at the feet of the astonished Minna, fell from exhaustion and the first blow.

Edwin! - exclaimed Minna.

Merchant! - the ladies and knights shouted, and a murmur of excitement spread through the assembly.

Such impudence is worth punishment... This insult deserves revenge! -

was heard from everywhere, and knights, nobles, and Schwarzenheupters poured into the lists.

Throw out, beat, kill this impostor! - the knights shouted.

He is not ours.

He will be ours! - the Schwarzenheupters objected, huddling in a circle around the emotionless Edwin. - We won’t let you touch him with a hair...

Who won't? Who won't allow it? Who? Is it not by our grace that you were admitted into the circle of knights? - the nobles made noise.

Not out of mercy, but by right.

He who gave the rights can also take them.

You sold them to us, not gave them as a gift. We are the same gentlemen as you in Revel, which we have more than once redeemed with our gold and saved with our blood.

Old songs, old fairy tales!.. Your courage swings on the scale, and honor, like a shorn gold coin, has greatly fallen in price...

Thunder and storm! We will print such coins on your foreheads that you will never wear out the stamp...

Arshinniks, robbers! - flew towards each other, and both sides were full of battle, when the Wenden Vogt von Delwig jumped onto the railing and said in a thunderous voice:

Nobles and knights! This is the consequence of our kindness! Whenever we had not allowed the Schwarzenheupters and the first citizens to interfere with us, this merchant would not have trampled on our brother and the advantages of the Order, and would not have offended us all in the person of Ungern. But let the past be a lesson to us for the future. Let it be from now on and forever forbidden for everyone, without exception, who does not bear the rank of knight or nobleman, to enter the tournament grid.

Let it be, let it be, the nobles and knights thundered, and the heralds, with the sound of trumpets, proclaimed that no one except the nobles and knights could henceforth break spears with them in the tournament.

So we will break them in battle! - the Schwarzenheupters, offended by such an exception, made a noise, drawing their swords.

A! If so, beat the blackheads! - the knights shouted.

Chop up the emptyheads! - the Schwarzenheupters exclaimed, rushing towards them, and instantly the swords jumped on their armor and the battle began.

The screams of women, the oaths of opponents, the thunder of weapons filled the air.

The crowded conditions multiplied the anxiety, horsemen and footmen, men-at-arms and unarmed, fighters and peacekeepers were mixed, and all the weapons, from hands to spears, were in use. Offended pride and unwavering pride incited the combatants, wine and anger blinded everyone, bitterness grew. In vain did the Germeister ask, persuade, and command; in vain, shouting and stamping his feet, he threw his staff, even his hat and robe, onto the lists as a sign of the closing of the tournament - no one listened, no one noticed him. Finally, fatigue did what neither the prayers of the wives nor the orders of the elders could accomplish. Both sides bowed to the admonitions of the good burgomaster Fegezak, and the opponents dispersed, threatening each other with swords and gazes. The deserted carnage was strewn with feathers and spurs, knights' and ladies' jewelry. Fortunately, the close quarters prevented any long-range killing, for the battle became a struggle; They say that few people paid Yashz for this toy.

Edwin was still lying in a mortal swoon from a severe bruise and a storm of feelings. Beside him, the lovely Minna was kneeling, having forgotten the whole world for her sweetheart and not listening to anything except the barely audible beating of his pulse;

Lontius, courting Edwin, persuaded the frantic Burtnek, who swore with all the then known light that he would not give Edwin his daughter, although he remained the winner.

But your word, Baron, your knightly word!

But my ancestors, Mr. Doctor, my ancestors! It's better not to keep your word to support the name. In short, Edwin intended very highly; I will never marry Minna to a man without a glorious name.

But with good fame.

For a person who has a pedigree in the account book, who does not have a coat of arms.

He has thousands of them, Baron, and all on a golden field.

Even if it were all scattered in chervonets, I will not agree to split

(Ecarteler is a heraldic expression. - Author's note.) your own shield with a sign.

Remember, Baron, that Edwin gave you back with blood what Ungern had taken away; will you really pay for your generosity with ingratitude?

Virtue is not a title...

We are promoting him to Commander of the Schwarzenheupter! - the elders of this class proudly objected. - He earned this dignity through courage.

Do you hear?.. - said the doctor. - This is almost knightly dignity!

Father,” Minna finally cried out, as if inspired, “he is coming to life, my Edwin is coming to life.” Forgive me,” she continued, shedding her father’s chest with bitter tears, “I love Edwin, I cannot live without him... You are free in my hand, but my heart forever belongs to Edwin.

It seemed that she had exhausted all the strength of her soul and body to utter these words, and, having said them, like a lily, she bowed her head and fell unconscious on her father’s shoulder.

This touched Burtnek more than all the arguments. There was no heart in his coat of arms, but it beat in his father’s chest. With tender care, supporting his daughter with his left hand, he fanned the feathers of his hat over her, wanted to call life into her with a kiss, and even a tear flashed on an unusual eyelash.

Meanwhile, good Lontius pressed harder and harder on him:

He is rich, handsome, commander and brave; this will stop evil tongues...

Do you really want to kill your daughter and deprive your friend of happiness by breaking your word?

Moreover, your daughter’s love is known throughout the city...

Let me think for at least a day, at least an hour...

You will never come up with a better idea than what your heart tells you... So, Edwin is your son-in-law?

Son-in-law and son... Edwin and Minna, my dear children, awaken to a new life!

Bright and joyful, Edwin galloped from the tournament next to his bride’s chariot, not taking his eyes off her and constantly kissing her hand.

Descending from Blocksberg, they met Donnerbatz in full armor and with a spear in his hand...

Where are you going, dear Donnerbatz? - asked Burtnek.

“To the tournament,” he answered, rubbing his eyes.

You overslept him... Let’s go to my place for the wedding,” Edwin said with a grin.

For your wedding - really with Fraulein Minna?.. Isn’t this a dream?

God forbid you not wake up from such a happy dream!

The train rushed noisily past, and Donnerbatz stood for a long time on the street with his mouth open in surprise.

Alexander Bestuzhev-Marlinsky - Revel Tournament, read the text

See also Alexander Bestuzhev-Marlinsky - Prose (stories, poems, novels...):

A Novel in Seven Letters
I had a dream that was not all a dream. Byron I had a dream... not all in...

Roman and Olga
An old story (The flow of my story lies between the halves of 1...

Bestuzhev-Marlinsky Alexander

Revel tournament

ALEXANDER BESTUZHEV-MARLINSKY

Revel tournament

At this time, the knight Bernhard von Burtjek was sitting calmly under the window in his Revel house, drinking a mug of beer, talking about tomorrow's tournament and admiring through the colored window the crowd of people that flowed in and out along the street, only in the name of the wide one. Judging by his beard, by his own expression, with a silver notch, that is, with gray hair, Burtnek was a man of about fifty, tall and once stately in stature. The features of his open face showed together both kindness and passions that knew neither bridle nor spur, natural imagination and acquired ignorance.

Have you had your fill? - repeated the baron, wiping the foam from his mustache.

Well, what do our impregnable, formidable loopholes seem to you like?

Your dirty loopholes, Baron, seem to me impregnable for the garrison itself, because all the shoots have collapsed, and they are only formidable from afar; half of the cannons are resting on the ground, lettuce is blooming on the ramparts, and in the towers I actually saw more stored potatoes than grapeshots.

And, of course, he didn’t fill it with water, Doctor?

Without a doubt, Malvasia, Monsieur Baron. Don't you know that many substances flare up even more strongly when water is used? And your wild pepper, of course, is worth Greek fire.

“You’ll have plenty of work tomorrow,” he continued, turning the conversation to the tournament.

That's why the Russians don't expect your horse loopholes, but love to catch you at home - in suede. They say gloves made from it are very cheap in Novgorod!..

It’s no wonder: even if it was taken away by a penny, it’s cheaper than what was bought.

Nonsense, Gustav, nonsense! I swear on my spurs that if the Russians had taken even a bridle from me, I would have caught up with the daredevils and cut out girths from their skins...

They also take away the horses of others with bridles, and not a single knight has ever seen girths made of such morocco.

Others... others!.. Others are not my decree. I am sure that the Russians will not forget meeting me near Magolm, near Pskov... near Narva!

A. A. Bestuzhev-Marlinsky

Revel tournament

OCR: Pirat Add. edit: V. Esaulov, September 2004 “You are used to seeing knights through the colored glass of their castles, through the fog of antiquity and poetry. Now I will open the door to their homes for you, I will show them up close and in truth.” The ringing of bells from Olai the Great called parishioners to the evening sermon, and in Revel everything was noisy as if on a festive afternoon. The windows shone with lights, the streets were bustling with people, the chariots and horsemen did not leave. At this time, the knight Bernhard von Burtneck was sitting calmly under the window in his Revel house, drinking a mug of beer, talking about tomorrow's tournament and admiring through the colored window the crowd of people that flowed in and out along the street, only in the name of the wide one. Judging by his beard, by his own expression, with a silver notch, that is, with gray hair, Burtnek was a man of about fifty, tall and once stately in stature. The features of his open face showed together both kindness and passions that knew neither bridle nor spur, natural imagination and acquired ignorance. The hall in which he sat was lined with oak boards, on which time and worms had carved out wonderful patterns. In the corners, from all the panels, Arachne's lace fluttered in festoons. The stove, like a knight's castle, humbly stood in the corner, on its twelve legs. To the left, a door hung with a carpet led to the women's quarters through a three-step threshold. On the right wall, in place of family portraits, hung a huge pedigree sheet, on which the ancestor of the Burtnekovs, stretched out on the ground, admired a tree with multi-colored apples emanating from his womb. The top apple, decorated with the name of Bernhard Burtneck, the rest of the representative of his family, was, in relation to others, magnified by its corpulence as a moon before the stars. Beside him, down to the left, was a crowned circle with the name of Minna von... The colorlessness of the future hid the rest, and gilded coats of arms and arabesques, like those with which our Vyazma gingerbreads shine, surrounded the tree of generations. -Have you had your fill, dear doctor? - Burtnek asked the Lyubchanian Loptius entering the room, who came north to try his luck in Russia and remained in Revel, partly frightened by stories about the cruelty of the Muscovites, partly detained by the city Duma, which did not like to allow either doctors or educators into hostile Rus'. It must be said that with his warm disposition and funny mind he became an indispensable person in Burtnek’s house. No one was better at separating the turkeys at dinner, no one was better at uncorking bottles of Rhine wine, and the baron listened to the truth only from Lontius alone without becoming enraged. He amused the kids by imagining different things on the shadows with his fingers and making a hare out of a scarf. He felt the old aunt's pulse and praised the old days, and made his niece blush with a fire of pleasure, joking about someone cute. -Have you had your fill? - repeated the baron, wiping the foam from his mustache. “I’ve had a lot of fun, Baron,” answered the cheerful doctor, unloading various plants from his pockets, as if from greenhouses. - Here are whole bunches of medicinal roots that I collected, and where would you think?.. on the Vyshny Novgorod fortifications!.. This wormwood, for example, healing in the form of gastric infusions, I picked from a crack in the main tower; I pulled out this chamomile from the seed of one rusty tool, and I, of course, would have collected much more herbs on the wall if the commandant’s cows had not done botanical research there before me. “Well, what do our impregnable, formidable loopholes seem like to you?” “Your dirty loopholes, Baron, seem to me impregnable for the garrison itself, because all the shoots have collapsed, and they are only formidable from afar; half of the cannons are resting on the ground, lettuce is blooming on the ramparts, and in the towers I actually saw more stored potatoes than grapeshots. - Yes, yes... to say this is such a shame, but to conceal it is such a sin! It’s good that such an oversight was made by the sea. After all, how many times have I told the germeister to put all the cannons on their hind legs and not let the cannonballs be taken away to the kitchens. - Well said, Baron; It would be even better if it came true. Then the people of Revel would stop treating their friends, as the Russians treat them, with hot cannonballs in the form of pies. Just yesterday I forcibly doused the fire in my stomach that had flared up from such a firebrand. - And, of course, he didn’t fill it with water, doctor? - Without a doubt, Malvasia, Mister Baron. Don't you know that many substances flare up even more strongly when water is used? And your wild pepper, of course, is worth Greek fire. The Baron had a commendable habit of agreeing with what he did not know. And therefore, with an important smile of approval, he answered the doctor: “I know... I know”; but by the way, not wanting to get burned by this Greek fire, he moved a mug of beer to Lonzius and invited him to put out the remains of yesterday’s fire. “You’ll have plenty of work tomorrow,” he continued, turning the conversation to the tournament. - Work, Baron? Am I a blacksmith? - answered the doctor, exchanging every word for a sip of beer. - Why do you need a surgeon when you break not ribs, but armor! Since these damned solid cuirasses were invented, our brother has to remember his experiences, like the fairy tale of the seven Semyons. Great is the courage to climb into an iron shell, and to stand in battle with an anvil! Really, the horses suffer more from your weapons than the enemies!.. - Completely, completely, Gustav, blaspheme our armor because it protects us from enemy swords and your lancets. Better ask the Russians, do they like them? Our men-at-arms are driving away the chainmailers by the thousands. “That’s why the Russians don’t expect your horse loopholes, but love to catch you at home - in suede.” They say that gloves made from it are very cheap in Novgorod!.. It’s no wonder: what was taken away even by a penny is cheaper than what was bought. - Nonsense, Gustav, nonsense! I swear by my spurs that if the Russians had taken even a bridle from me, I would have caught up with the daredevils and cut out girths from their skins... - Others with bridles they take away horses, and not a single knight has ever seen girths from such morocco. - Others... others!.. Others are not my order. I am sure that the Russians will not forget meeting me near Magolm, near Pskov... near Narva! - I remember this by heart too. But why talk to us about past battles when we are talking about the upcoming tournament? Should I prepare a dressing for my venerable master? I would sincerely wish, Baron, that a beneficial blow would knock you out of the saddle, or that your horse, jealous of the glory of surgery, would break your arm or leg. You would then see the art of Lontius... and even if your dice were jumping like dice in a glass, I guarantee that in a month you yourself would be able to lift a cup to your mouth for my health. “I’ll try to better preserve what’s mine.” No, my dear Lonzius, Burtnek will no longer throw his opponents from their saddles! It’s inappropriate for him to measure shoulders with boys. Moreover, the summers weighed down my armor, and the strength of my arm flew away with its blows. No, I won’t go to a place I’m not sure where I’ll leave from. They wouldn’t have lured me to this feast if it weren’t for my daughter’s requests and the deal with Baron Ungern. Germey-ster promised to finish it one of these days. - Just promised? That's not a lot. He has been promising me a pass to Moscow for two months and still does not give it, although I do not at all ask Mr. Germeister to take care of the health of my head, which, according to him, can catch a cold from the custom of taking off hats there a mile from the princely palace, but For those who forget, it’s as if they are nailed down so that they won’t be blown away by the wind. If it is as welcoming to fellow residents as it is to visitors, then you can safely hope that, having arrived here with the first larks, you will return home later than the time when the waders fly to the warm waters. - Can this happen? My cause is as clear as my broadsword, as right as this right hand. - But Baron Ungern, even with his left hand, holds tightly to the Germeister; they say he is related to him... - Aren’t I his brother in the Order? No, doctor, I have no doubt about justice; but I would like to get out of Revel as soon as possible. Here it’s not like in the village... feasts and dinners, from guests and visitors - and, look, money flies away like time, and debts weigh on my neck like weights!.. I swear on my golden spurs, I will soon have nothing to swear by , because you will have to pawn them. Do you, doctor, have any overseas medicine for money consumption? “If it had existed, Baron, it would have remained unused; whoever has money does not need medicine, and whoever does not have it has nothing to buy it with. Through mental alchemy I learned that orvietan for pocket diseases is moderation. Following this word, I don’t know whether it was intentionally or unintentionally, the doctor clattered his foot so loudly on the table that the bright sound of it seemed to say: “I’m empty.” “I understand,” said the knight with a smile, “I understand this moral teaching; but, judging by our nature, it will remain without effect, just like your pills. By the way, dear doctor, shouldn’t we drink a bottle of Rhine wine, even though it’s contrary to our ritual? They say that every glass of Rhine wine taken at the right time takes away a thaler from the doctor. - But each bottle gives him two. Is your wine very old, Baron? - A little younger than the flood, Mister Doctor; but you will see that it is not watery at all. Bernhard whistled, and at that very moment, not a handsome page, as was usual with French knights, ran in, not a squire, as was the case with German paladins, but simply an Estonian servant, in a gray jacket, in elk trousers, with his hair flowing down to his shoulders, ran in and stood quietly at the doorpost with a slavishly questioning face. - Drumme! - Bernhard told him, - tell the housekeeper Caroline to get one of the flat bottles with a green seal from the cellar. “I am sure that it is overgrown with moss and has taken root in the sand,” he continued, turning to Lonzius (who had already previously admired the appearance of the Rhine bottle, which he loved, according to him, only because it was very similar to a retort), “ - and we will prove to the doctor how old wine makes people younger. Take that foot away, Drumme, do you hear, you fool? Drumme, trembling, crept to the table and took hold of his foot so carefully, as if he was afraid of air spilling out of it. - What are you afraid of, you idol! - the knight shouted menacingly. - This mug is as empty as your head. ..Where, unkempt animal, where?..What are you waiting for, why are you looking at the doctor? Even without him, I will predict birch fever for your nonsense. Damn people! - Bernhard continued, following Drumme with a look of contempt. “You’d rather teach a bear to dance than an Estonian to behave like a human being.” Still, in the castle they are here and there, but in the city - out of nowhere; especially since the local Duma dared to cut off the head of the knight Iskul because he hanged his vassal for two hours within the walls of Revel. “I must admit, I didn’t think that your ratsgers would have enough intelligence to invent, and enough determination to carry out such a law.” “It’s not my job to judge whether it’s stupid or smart; I only know that it is useless. What is the law to me when I can fend off an accusation with a broadsword or wash away my own wrongdoing with blood! Moreover, without golden glasses, the law has no eyes; the hanged man is silent, but the living one is afraid of the noose [I ask the reader to remember feudal rights. -- Note. author.]. That is why we send our vassals away in the same way as you send away the sick - without response. To the health of the knights of the sword and the knights of the lancet! What is the wine, doctor?.. - Much better than your customs. One more word, Baron: why do you sometimes resort to court in your grievances? - Oh, of course, not out of respect for the laws, but because power cannot handle it any other way. That’s why I stained my fingers with ink in the Ungern case. - And, in all likelihood, in vain. - Still, probability is better than impossibility. Yes, that's enough; I can’t stand thinking with my head and not with my hands, and every time I happen to think, my head hurts as if I had two feet of Russian honey. Let’s better play a game or two of Pilkentafel: [A type of billiards. -- Note. author.] this will spread your overseas learning and amuse my knightly heart. - And it will give movement, which is very beneficial for health. About this game we can safely say with Horace: utile dulci [Useful with pleasant - lat.]. - Have mercy, have mercy, spare me from this paganism; with me you can safely hang it on a nail, because out of all Latin I only remember and love the word vale [Farewell - Latin]. So speaking, they left the hall.

On the rainbow of imagination
He builds a castle in the air;
His love is in a dream...
But the moment of awakening strikes!

I guess the curiosity of many of my readers, but about the apple of the knowledge of good and evil, but about the apple of the genealogy, decorated with the name of Minna - and I hasten to satisfy it, firstly, because I want to please my readers, and secondly: I’m not hiding - - I love to talk about beautiful people, although I don’t know how to talk to them. Listen. Minna, the only daughter of the knight Burtnek, was a most lovely girl. In her time, Livonia abounded in beauty more than now, but these fair-haired beauties bore the stamp of dispassion. In the shadow of their maidens, they blossomed like lush tulips, shining but not fragrant. Removed not by custom, but by habit from men, because they had nothing to say to each other, their occupation was nothing but gossip; all their vanity was limited to their clothes, all their ambition did not aim higher than the top end at the table or the red chair at parties. Their heart was the fifth wheel in their chariot; the mind is such a coin that no one could evaluate or exchange; and therefore they counted the eras of their lives from ball to ball and checked pleasant memories from their account books. Almost all Livonian beauties were like this, but Minna was not like this. Nature, according to her father, did not put the reed blade in such a beautiful sheath. This “I don’t know - something sweet” animated the features of her face, gave majesty to her steps, dexterity to her techniques, sweetness to her speeches. From her blue eyes, from under her long eyelashes, glances slid... but what glances! They would have set the ice on fire. In short, Minna was one of those beauties who amaze with their beauty and at the same time captivate with their charm. She lost her mother early, but Mother Nature took care of her. Reading did not enlighten her, but the book of light was in front of her, and some concept, replacing experience for girls, saved the innocent from the lures of wealth and the seduction of flattery. Minna soon noticed that she was not understood, that she was not loved as her exalted heart, condemned to beat without an answer, wanted; and this involuntarily solitary feeling drew her into daydreaming. Minna's imagination escaped from the boring circle of dressed-up dolls, from the noisy conversations of knights and painted her the brightest pictures of happiness; her heart sighed for some vague but lovely ideal; and the heart at eighteen is gunpowder, one bold spark - and goodbye to peace. While the baron and the doctor were arguing about which of them had the best shot, knocking down the towns of Pilkentafel, Minna was in the nearest room preparing outfits for tomorrow. In the corner behind the curtain, around a long table, three Estonian girls with beaded headbands and silver plaques on their chests were sitting, sewing something. Minna's old aunt was dozing in another corner under the shade of a winged cap, tired of scolding new fashions and her niece's inability to dress. Before Minna stood a blond, stately young man, the son of one of the richest merchants in Reval: he brought her the rich chain she had ordered yesterday. His blue velvet spenzer was embroidered with gold thread; frequent through buttons hung like berries along the floors, golden fringe adorned the colored lapels of his suede boots, and only the lack of spurs showed that he was not a knight; although his bold posture and intelligent face gave him an advantage over many of them. “So you like the color lilac, dear Edwin?” - said Minna, turning around in front of the mirror. “And you think this dress will suit me?” The adjective amiable even then was no longer flattering, referring to the lower; it also reminded Edwin of his condition, but it was sweet to his heart. However, he was silent, immersed in dreamy admiration of Minna’s beauty. “Wake up, Edwin,” she said in a half-touched, half-kind voice. “So, I dreamed, Fraulein Minna; forgive me or, better yet, blame yourself for it. The sound of your voice makes him lose his mind before the words reach him. “It seems we were talking about colors, not sounds, Edwin!” “I’m sorry again, Fraulein Minna, I forgot that ladies love diversity more than harmony.” To your question, however, I will also answer with a question... What outfit does not suit your slender figure, what color, what decoration can elevate or change your lovely face? Edwin finished this greeting in a trembling voice, but was pleased that he said it, of course, more than the reader, whom I ask, at least for me, to forgive my hero: firstly, because he did not read a single French dictionary of compliments, and -secondly, he stood in front of a beautiful girl, to whom he was very partial. Oh! Who among us has not sometimes seemed like a disciple in front of secular beauties? who hasn't given them awkward praise? God knows why: when the heart gets angry, the wit hides so far away that it cannot be lured out either by pleas or threats. And whatever you say, I don’t believe in verbose love in novels. “Flattery is counterfeit gold, Edwin; “I don’t take it personally,” Minpa said. - Flattery, but not sincerity, Minna! Isn’t that what I told you, what your trusty mirror assures you of, what (you see that I know how to tell the truth) you yourself do not doubt? “Is that why you consider me vain and self-loving?” “I only know that modesty does not interfere with either vision or hearing.” .. Tomorrow thousands of voices will tell you a million times more than mine. “Who will think about me tomorrow, when all the beauties for whom Livonia is famous and Revel shines have come here!” “And it’s not for nothing that it shines, Fraulein Minna.” We have the right to be especially proud now: the first of them will grace tomorrow’s tournament with her presence and inspire everyone with her gaze. - Who is this first? - asked Minna in an unsteady voice. - And does it seem like this to everyone or just to you? Are your eyes captivated by your heart?.. - I think the opposite, Fraulein Minna: her eyes captivated my heart. “You are talking about your feelings, but I would like to know her name,” said Minna more coldly. - Can I hear it without disturbing your modesty? - Oh, Minna, you touched a tender chord! Meanwhile, he looked at Minna so tenderly that it seemed that her cheeks were on fire from the flame of his gaze. Blushing, she lowered hers and was silent, but her heart spoke all the louder. Edwin was cheeky, ardent, skillful, Minna was sensitive and charming. He knew how to dream and feel, and the Livonian knights could only make people laugh and rarely, rarely amuse. She loved - he aroused lofty thoughts, spoke with fervor, if not with eloquence, and captivated, if not convinced. Traveling around Europe for two years, he learned social decency and education, and was far superior in dexterity to the knights of Livonia, who grew up hunting and matured in robberies, knights who were unfriendly with ladies, proud of everyone, arrogant among themselves, who preferred to drink to the health of the beauties in their circle than to spend time in their conversation. They thought to captivate Minna with stories about their love, their fidelity; Edwin told her about herself. They counted the heads of the animals and enemies they had killed, he recalled the hearts she had captured; they looked at her diamond earrings, he admired her eyes. The consequence is not difficult to guess, for fortunes are not invented for lovers, and love, like another color on a barren cliff, grows even in hopelessness. Father Edvinov’s shop was the first in the city, and, as luck would have it, it was opposite the windows of Burtnekov’s house. All expensive fabrics, all artificial products, pearls and valuable stones were there. The girls of that century loved to dress up no less than ours in the capital, and the beautiful Edwin’s shop was always full of visitors. Need I say that Minna went there often? And although this shop served for Revel instead of our English store (that is, a meeting place for young people), it was not just her passion for clothes that attracted her there, it was not just the desire to please everyone that kept her there. Either you need to buy velvet, then you need to remake a necklace, then a ring has come apart, or something wonderful has been brought from overseas. And every time, the friendly Edwin hurried to meet them, unrolled the damasks in front of his aunt, sparkling his niece with diamonds and eyes. He told her about the foreign land, listened to her with admiration; and usually a bitter sigh fluttered his shiny locks, and with tears in his eyes he followed his beloved with his eyes, did not take them off her window and languished in silence like a blade of grass. It is hard to love without hope of happiness, it is hard without hope of reciprocity; but it is incomparably harder to see yourself loved and not dare to evoke recognition with a word of love, to thirst for it as heavenly joy, and to flee as a crime of honor; do not have the right to be jealous and melt from fear of betrayal; blame your coldness for her sorrows, multiply your own torments, now with reproaches against love, now against duty!.. Then the passions from the boiling heart fly into the mind in black vapors and poisonous despair gnaws into the soul!.. O friends, friends! Have pity on the one who loved in this way. “And you could say that curiosity alone inspired my question,” Minna finally said, raising her blue eyes with such a tenderly reproachful gaze that the stern expression on Edviyov’s face mixed in an instant with a touching one, her voice froze, her heart seemed to it was pierced, but this feeling was sweet, like the first sigh in reality after a terrible dream. Their souls merged into one expressive, but inexpressible look. Minna came to her senses. “So, dear Edwin, if you were a knight, what color would you choose for tomorrow’s tournament?” “Forever, forever, Fraulein Minna, I would choose the color of the first beauty; a color composed of sky blue and earth decoration - pink; “I would choose,” he continued passionately, grabbing her hand, “the lovely, incomparable lilac color, your color, Minna!” Minna's hand glowed and trembled; her head involuntarily leaned on Edvino's shoulder... - Ah! why aren't you a knight? - she whispered. Edwin's castle in the air shattered. - Ah! Why am I not a knight! - he cried beside himself. - Why am I unhappy with my well-being! And at the same time, a hot kiss of delight and a cold tear of hopelessness were imprinted on Minna’s hand. - Minna, Minna! - the father shouted from the other room. - Minna! - repeated her aunt in her sleep.

In love, gain and loss
My rights are in my damask steel.

Who has not read romances of chivalry, who does not know the custom of choosing a beauty, who was given the title of queen of love and beauty, to distribute awards at tournaments? In nothing else, but in vanity, the Livonian knights were not inferior to anyone in the world and always - for better or worse - imitated German etiquette. There cannot be a tournament without a queen - this is an axiom: so the elected judges of the tournament met in the Ritterhaus. As usual, they put an inkwell and bottles on the table, went through all the written and oral traditions about the method of election, made some noise, argued about who to elect, and when, from the whirling of a goat’s leg [Cups in the shape of a wild goat’s leg were in great fashion among the Revel knights— in honor of Revel, whose name they derive from the word Ree-fall - the fall of a chamois - note. author.] their heads were spinning and their legs were swollen, they agreed (to the credit of their taste or wine, I really don’t know) to elect Minna von Burtneck as queen. Minna, hearing the call of her father, straightened her hair and, raising the cutter to hide the glow of her cheeks in it, went out into the hall. Edwin followed her. - Thank the gentlemen of the council for the honor, dear Minna. You have been elected queen for tomorrow...” said the baron, rubbing his hands with pleasure. - Thank you; I gave my word for myself and for you... One of the heralds in a dalmatic embroidered with coats of arms knelt and handed her a golden crown of clubs on a velvet pillow, and Minna, embarrassed by the accident, took it, babbling something in response to the magnificently stupid greeting of the heralds . “I don’t congratulate you,” Edwin said quietly, putting his hand on his heart, “you ruled hearts even without a crown.” Minna blushed and was silent. The heralds met at the door with the knight Donnerbatz, one of the most terrible fighters and the most zealous seekers of Minna. “I congratulate the baron and kiss my queen’s hand,” he said, bowing awkwardly and jingling his spurs behind every word, as if reminding him by that (and only by that) that he is a knight... “With my falcon, Fraulein Minna, I swear, that tomorrow, for every spark from your eyes, sparks from your armor will fly so much that the sky will become hot. You will see how I will distinguish myself before you; My horse is a sight for sore eyes: he dances along the thread and makes voltes on the thaler with a short gallop. Do me a favor, Fraulein Minna, let me put on a purple scarf—I’ve already ordered a purple saddle cloth. - Much honor... thank you for your attention... but I change my colors so often that you can unmistakably be surrounded by a rainbow. “And be a striped jester,” the doctor said quietly. - A noble thought! - exclaimed Donnerbatz, clapping his hands. “That’s what they call agreeing without saying yes.” But I will make the purple stripe wider than the rest together. “Please sit down, gentlemen,” said Burt-nek to Donnerbatz and Edwin, whom he caressed with heart and gold. - You, knight, for this evening I grant you the minister of her beautiful Majesty - my daughter; Explain to her the royal position, and you, dear Edwin, try so that the queen does not forget us, ordinary people. I need to talk about business. The young people sat down in one corner near the aunt without speeches, and the doctor and Burtnek sat down at a table in the other. “Welcome, old cuckoo,” said the Baron to the incoming Freulich, the Germeister’s messenger, “welcome, if your appearance does not portend evil!” - And, father, your high-baronial mercy! “What do you think,” answered the short messenger, putting his gloves in his belt decorated with a badge and his whip in the mouth of his boot. “I’m like the wooden cuckoo that sits above the clock in the town hall, predicting profit just as often and just as accurately as it predicts loss.” - What's new, Freilich? “What’s new in this old world, Mr. Baron?” - continued the talkative German, untying his bag. “I don’t even have a hat for tomorrow’s holiday, even though I wore out my old one, diligently bowing to the gentlemen knights.” - Not only to us, you bow to all the walls of the intoxicated room. However, here are two kreuzers in exchange for your efforts. - Thank you humbly, noble knight. For each cross on these coins, I will put ten for your soul. “Wouldn’t it be better to drink to my health?” - said the baron, grinning, accepting the papers. - Of course, summons from the germmeister? - Orders, noble knight. - Orders?.. Why does he dare to order me?.. - How do we know this, Mr. Baron - should we meddle in something other than our own business! There is a sentry on the seal; yes, however, if the letter had been more transparent to Kirschwasser, I, an illiterate person, would have learned no more than I do now. “It’s true, it’s true,” Burtnek grumbled to himself, “you can judge the contents of letters just as much as my pointer dog can judge the taste of the quail he brings.” Go ahead, Freilich. (Reads.) - “Ba... ba... to the baron... Bur... Bur...” Take the discourtesy of the writer and the handwriting of the scribe; it’s as coherent as a Hungarian digital recording; at least he could have written my title in big broken letters! -- ABOUT! “Of course,” said Knight Donnerbatz, without listening to him. “Without a doubt,” the aunt added from another corner, counting the loops of the striped stocking she was knitting with needles. “This is even more polite,” the doctor said with a grin, “the letter is written in broken language.” “Your op is very flexible in arguments,” Burtnek objected, “let’s see his trot in action... read it, perhaps... My eyes are weak, I can’t make it out: the letters are small, like poppy seeds, and It’s not for nothing that one line makes me drowsy. “God grant that you can sleep peacefully from them,” said the doctor, running his eyes over the paper. “From the Herald of the Livonian Order, Reichard von Bruggeney, pre... at...” “Take the glasses,” said the baron. “Be patient...” objected the doctor. “Your titles are as dark and long as a September night.” - Next, next? - Not further, but back, Baron! We, like pilgrims of promise, take three steps forward and two steps back. So: “Germeister Bruggeney, to the noble knight of the Livonian Order of the Knights of the Cross, Baron Emmanuel Christopher Conrad... von Burtneck, born...” - You’re crazy, doctor... - Sorry, I read too much. I’m so used to writing recipes for your arrogant ladies that their titles constantly ring in my ear. Would you believe that Frager Knips-Knops, when she was dying, did not want to take medicine for something that I did not put on the prescription: for nee so-and-so... - What need do I have before her birth and death and your mortal desire to weave my fairy tales to someone else's business! No matter what, you are like my groom Dietrich, who used to love to weave ribbons into the mane of my horse when the muster was already sounded... - You climbed onto your horse, Baron, but a man on foot is not a companion to a horseman. However, we are close to the end. The order seems to be given in addition to the titles; he is all in four words: “fix your bridge over the Vaide swamp, which is on the high road to Dorpat.” “Let him move it himself with his glassine, but I really have nothing to do with it; I never go to visit that direction. - Don’t go, there’s no need. I only feel sorry for the poor travelers out of necessity, they are not cranes: they will not fly across the swamp. “That’s their business, not mine.” “But the high road is a worldly thing; and how it goes through your property... - Therefore, I have the right to do whatever I want in it, and especially not to do anything. - This means that where many do everything they want, everyone tolerates what they don’t want. “Another, another, doctor...” “Perhaps a third,” said Lonzius, scorching his foot. “I’m talking about paper,” Burt-nek said with annoyance. “I was thinking about the foot,” answered Lonzius with feigned simplicity, taking it off the candle. (Reads.) - “Germeister...” and the like... “According to the complaint of the knight Baron von Burtnek against the freiger Ungern about the land adjacent to the castle of Althofen and adjacent to the neighboring lands of the said Ungern, allegedly seized by him from the first without rights and lawlessness, by assault and with an armed hand and violence and robbery, with threats of repeating them in the future, I with the Vogts and commanders of the Order, having examined this matter, found. .." An error against grammar! - cried the doctor, stopping. - Say better, against the truth - objected Burt-nek. - The Germeister only celebrates with the Vogts, but judges and arranges his head... - ". .. having examined it, I found, according to certificates and testimony of witnesses, that the said land (inventory on the back) was previously seized from the father of Frager Ungern at different times and by various lies; and therefore we declare to each and every one that Frager Ungern had the right to use force to return the property, without seeing satisfaction for amicable deals and his repeated demands, and that we recognize him as the legal owner of the said plot; and we order the knight Baron von Burtnek to immediately and unquestioningly cede Milkental to Ungern with all pastures, runs, corrals, meadow and forest dachas, cornfields and meadows, standing and living waters, with all lands and freedoms without exception, and to establish a new border from the Kuremse stream to the lake Pigus, to the creek where the horses are bathed, from there to the left past the red pine that was burned by lightning, to Yumalova's harvest, and from there for a shootout to Poigina's new bathhouse, and from there..." - Let him get the hell out of there! - cried the baron, jumping up from his chair... and his anger, ignited by every word, finally burst like a firecracker, and abusive crackers flew in all directions... - Here is justice! Here are the laws!.. When I was strong and daring, when my spurs rang louder than others at feasts and my broadsword kissed its sheath less often, then not a single paragraph soul dared to show its nose to me and all these fat Vogts von bowed like that across the street. It happened, even on the bishop's strip, I would stick my spear instead of the face of a pillar , no one dares to make a word - but now, look, perhaps! These walking inkwells, these skull-skinned clerks decided to press the border to the very moat of the castle, so that Ungern, look, will demand payment from me for the shadow of the towers that will fall on his land, for every glass of water from the stream - and what water! “You can do without water,” the doctor objected, raising his voice to force the baron to listen to the end of the definition. - “As a result, an official will soon dress up to bring the aforementioned Freiger Ungeria into possession...” - Just let him come to me... Just let him come... I’ll make him spin head over heels under the whips... I’ll ask him to taste the controversial water in the lake!.. - “And then, according to custom, having gathered healthy boys from the neighboring villages of both opponents, flog them at every noticeable place of the new demarcation, so that they would remember it and in future disputes they could serve as obvious witnesses. .." - This will not happen... I swear by my spurs, it will not happen!.. Everyone knows that for a just cause I would not spare my vassals... but in this case, am I a villain to agree to turn their backs with a memorial book for headless judges?.. - And what will the hermeister say to this? - What I will not listen to... Why should I value his favor, his weathervane friendship? I would rather have two open enemies in front of me than behind one such a friend! Wygern won’t see the promised land like yesterday; for that matter, he won’t get it without a fight, even for a flower pot. The letters are not soldiers, but I have a living palisade with iron tops and pe "One pair of strong hands will show him the way home. So the irritated baron exclaimed, stamping his feet, and his voice rang louder and louder, until the glasses and goblets standing in the old cabinet clinked against each other. This hurricane caught the old woman in the middle yawn and turned it into a sign of surprise. Knight Donnerbatz, who drank to Minna's health as a compliment, did not bring the goblet to his lips, and the goblet, bending halfway, dripped precious moisture little by little onto the floor. Only Edwin and Minna stood up, moved by participation. Good Lontius, having thrown off the playful expression from his face, listened restlessly to the baron and followed his movements with his eyes. “Yes, yes,” Burtnek continued, “I will prove to both Ungern and the Germeister... that Burtnek did not live and die without friends.” “I swear on my honor,” cried Edwin from the bottom of his heart. - You have them, Burtnek!.. My gold is yours. “Have me,” said Donperbats, staggering, “every day before lunch, and always my daredevils.” “Thank you... thank you sincerely...” answered the touching baron, offering them his hands. “But the morning is wiser than the evening, and tomorrow we will talk about the matter... My God!.. Tomorrow is the tournament, and Ungern will probably still snatch the award, and my daughter will have to crown my villain!.. Damn the word...” ... I can’t refuse, but I can’t stand it... I won’t survive the robber’s ridicule of this gray hair, and where? Before the whole Revel, before all the nobility and knighthood? Friends!.. Friend Donnerbatz! You alone can save the old man from shame; you are strong and huge and will break Ungeria like a reed. Only laziness prevented you from measuring yourself with him until now... But now... Listen, Donnerbatz, I know that you like my Minna... but only the winner of Ungern will be her husband... Here is my hand, my knightly word, that friend or foe, whoever knocks Ungern out of the saddle, I give him my daughter and my eternal gratitude. “A hand and a word, Baron,” Donnerbatz cried joyfully, striking his hand with his hand, “and let witches of all colors make me their hobby, if I leave even a drop of soul in Ungern, as in this cup, if not the same.” I'll crush it! With this word, the silver cup, crumpled into a ball, flew to the floor. - Father, dear father! - exclaimed the frightened Minna. - Minna... I don't like repetitions and contradictions. My command must be your will, and my will must be your desire: what is said is sacred. The winner of Ungern will be a good husband for you and a good protector for me. Minna, turning pale, sank into a chair. Edwin stood in the middle of the room, his eyes sparkling; his chest was agitated, his right hand seemed to be clutching the hilt of a sword, and suddenly, like a lion, he proudly shook his curls... and disappeared. -Where, where, dear Edwin? - Burtnek shouted after him; but there was no answer. “Oddball!.. and nice fellow,” he said, “say the word, and Edwin will give everything without interest or mortgage.” “Well done,” repeated Donnerbatz, “even though he’s not a knight, you can’t fool him with the teeth of a horse.” “The clever one,” added the doctor, “although she argues with me about the essence of life, she has one belief that the world was born from an egg... “A wonderful young man, a priceless man!” - thought the half-dead Minna, but she did not say it out loud.

I write in haste, and if a stain
Be on this sheet "its not what it appears,
My eyeballs burn and throb, but have no tears.
Byron

[I am writing in a hurry, and if there is a stain on this page, it is not what it seems: my eyes burn and tremble, but there are no tears in them. Byron (English).] Edwin ran home like mad. The cloak fell to the floor. The bedroom door shattered from the blow of his foot, and he heartily tore the candle from the hands of the senior servant... “It’s over... It’s decided...” he said, grinding his teeth. - Tournament and Minna - people, people! Hermann! “I’m going,” he cried to his servant. -- Where? - he asked in amazement. - Who dares to ask where? I'm going, and that's enough; the wind is good; there are many ships: get ready. Roasting the young man's first love; But how bitter is the first loss! Edwin sat for a long time, leaning his elbows on the table and covering his burning face with both hands. Passions swirled in his chest, and finally they poured out in a disorderly letter; here it is: “Everything has been decided for me. I am writing to you because I would not be able to talk to you tomorrow, and I should not write after the tournament - then your hand will belong to someone else; someone else... I am a madman, a madman !Out of what hope, by what right did you dare to raise your gaze to the best flower of Livonia!.. Or did you think that an ardent, faithful heart is worth a knight's coat of arms? Did you think... No, I didn't think anything, I could only feel, only to love. A minute's dream of happiness! I cry dearly for you in reality... Do you know, lovely Minna, what the poison of jealousy is, have you experienced the pangs of hopeless, desperate love? I pray to God that you never feel it!.. Despair How long ago did it visit me, and it seems that all the hours, all the days, lost in distraction, flashed by in delight, have now swirled into minutes, into endless minutes!.. Behind every beat of the heart, which for you is only beating, thousands of annoying thoughts one after another, one blacker than the other, they already manage to torment my soul, and every drop of blood slowly pours poison into my veins. I feel that I am writing nonsense... Forgive my madness and insolence that I am writing to you, kind, dear Minna; or not, I ask you, I beg you, be angry with me, pour out your just anger on the guilty one: then it will be easier for me to leave you, to be separated from my adored Minna, to flee that homeland where I am forbidden to earn with the sword a dear one, whose reciprocity I have earned with my heart. Be angry and unforgiving, otherwise the meek gaze of your heavenly eyes will turn my resolve into smoke, another glance, like today... and I am fascinated - and then what? My vengeance may be as excessive as my passion is immense. Save me with your indignation, incomparable one! I’ll just wait for the tournament, I’ll just find out the lucky one who will have my luck, and at that very moment the ship will take me away, wherever the wind blows, and the better the further... I will wander around the world in order to forget myself, not in order to forget you... No! I could not do this, even if I wanted to. The memories and grief of my former love will be my joy... I will live with them until I die from them. Be happy, dear Minna, and believe the heartfelt, although not chivalrous, word that no one can wish this for you more sincerely than me, just as no one could love more purer and more ardently. Goodbye Miina! You will not hear anything more from me or about me.

The cold wind whipped the curls of Udvin, who, leaning against the frame of the open window, looked at Minna's windows in bitter thoughtfulness. Through the glass and the curtain the beam of a dim lamp flickered there, and the imagination populated the darkness with the ghosts of memories; but they dragged on like a funeral procession. Edwin raised his hand twice to throw a farewell letter, and hesitated in indecision... Finally, his heart sinking, he threw across the street the apple to which the letter was tied, and it fell on the floor of Minna’s bedroom with the sound of broken glass.

"Amour aux dames, honneur aux braves!"
[Love to the ladies, honor to the brave! (French)]
Flies like a whirlwind, like fire
Before the immovable system;
And the golden-maned horse fluffs
Under the future hero.

This was in the month of May; The bright sun rolled towards noon in the transparent ether, and only in the distance the canopy of the sky touched the water with a silver-cloud fringe. The light spokes of the Revel bell towers burned across the bay, and the gray loopholes of Vyshgorod, leaning on the cliff, seemed to grow into the sky and, as if overturned, pierced the depths of the mirror waters. Playful pigeons, excited by the noise and ringing of bells, circled over the steep roofs; everything was alive, everything was breathing with joy, everything was celebrating the return of spring, the resurrection of nature. At dawn, Lang and Breitstrasse - the two roads leading to Domplatz in Vyshgorod - were blocked by crowds of people. Estonians and German handicraftsmen, servants and townspeople hurried to take a place to watch the knightly tournament; however, few have achieved this honor. The small area barely provided space for the fighters, and around the houses there were places for people of honor. All the windows were open, laid with pillows, and hung with carpets. Ribbons and colorful fabrics were wafting from everywhere; the diversity of houses, outfits and decorations presented a strange but pleasant sight to the eyes. Finally, an hour before noon, trumpets sounded throughout the city, and in one minute the windows began to boil with spectators, the amphitheater was filled with the best merchants and old knights. Under the canopy sat the Germeister, in a white velvet robe with a black cross on the left shoulder, in a half-caftan with slits lined with clasps, and in boots with lace overhangs descending from the knees. The gold embroidered collar of the shirt lay on the iron mantle that knights wore then, so that their rank could be seen even in their home clothes. The lining of the dress, boots and gloves was crimson. A gold chain with an order cross showed his dignity, and two feathers proudly rose above his head, as he did above the heads of others. On the hilt of the sword hung a garnet rosary, as if an emblem of the combination of spiritual and military power, for then the power of the bishops had already been destroyed. On his left hand sat the queen of the holiday, Minna, in a lek, in a lilac dress with ruffles, with gold lace, in a scarf embroidered with silk, studded with pearls, and large curls scattered over her shoulders, intertwined with a smoky blanket. She timidly moved her gaze, and languid sadness was visible on her face, as if the one-day queen of beauty felt that she was serving as a living image of the short-term reign of beauty! While the spectators ceremoniously sat down on the benches, arguing for the honor of the seats more than for their convenience, Loncius and Edwin stood at the entrance, from where they could see the entire circumference, and out of the kindness of their hearts they sorted out neighbors and neighbors. Often, emotional grief, irritated by the general fun in which we cannot participate, pours out bitter ridicule; the same thing happened to Edwin: his bile evaporated with slander, and, as is usual in such circumstances, caustic, but rarely witty. “I’m sorry for poor Minna,” said the doctor, to whom everything seemed funny. - Your master, who is so proud of his coats of arms, which really look very much like a bakery sign, is afraid of losing his symmetrical position, and she has no one to judge her neighbors with: to notice that so-and-so’s collar is poorly starched, that so-and-so’s feathers are disheveled or the mustache is too waxed. What a contradiction - the Germeister and Minna! “This is not a contradiction, but proof that joy and boredom are the closest neighbors,” answered Edwin. “But, doctor, you asked me to show you some of the women and men of Revel, so follow mine with your views.” This dressed up lady, for example, very similar to a ship statue, is the wife of Ratger Klaus; she, they say, really turns the helm of our thought and has more than once run our course aground. Next to her is an exemplary couple: Burgomaster Fegezak with his dearest half; they burn with one passion - for glass, that is, he for the glass, and she for the mirror. This pocket lady, who, talking incessantly, hangs herself around the neck of her fat husband, like a bell around the neck of an ox, is the noblewoman Segefels. They say he took a little wife so that she wouldn’t bother leading him by the nose, but now it hurts his ears. Speaking of ears... That young fellow, it seems, hides their length in his tall cutter - this is Landrat Ezelkrantz; behind him sits the singer Fraulein Liliendorf; experts say that her voice is a mixture of a nightingale and an owl; and her airy neighbor, whose face and dress bloomed with a rainbow, is Baroness Hertzfisch. She should have left our sky long ago. Next you can see Commander Zangheim's mistress... Don't be surprised that she sits higher than his wife: this is not uncommon among us. There are two sisters... - P O ok, p O Well, Edwin, about women. I know that there is nothing to say about the modest ones, there is nothing to say about the pretty ones, and I am bored with the others. Now it's the gentlemen's turn. To whom, for example, does this head belong, lying on a huge Spanish milling cutter, like an apple on a platter? - To anyone, to anyone, doctor!.. He gives her away to keep her for a reasonable price. This is the squandered nobleman Luft; he composes gravestone inscriptions and wedding songs, plans for knights to enter the land of enemies and to meet with the wives of friends; looks horses in the mouth, brings merchants together and treats hunting dogs... This is the brightest head in all of Revel. “It’s not for nothing that there’s a calico glow around her.” But who is this knight, dressed to the nines... with a falcon on his arm, hung with ribbons and buttons, like a wedding horse? - This is a martyr and an example of panache... Vogt von Tulane... In his wardrobe, it seems, he did not consult Plettenberg’s decree: [Ger. In 1503, Plettenberg issued a decree to maintain luxury, in which he prescribed simplicity in dress and attire for all classes; but this remained without action. -- Note. author.] his neck chain weighs exactly thirty pounds, and look at the rings his fingers are shackled with! He has weight between the knights. - Well, and the one with the snipe figure is short? - And a short man? This is a corrupt soul, Witsbetraber Rabeshntral. But then the knights arrive. In their head is Wesenberg's commander Hartknoch: he is as simple as an ostrich, whose feathers he boasts so much about; next to him the Dorpat Vogt Zwiebel gallops on a Gothic horse; through its transparency you can see the stars in the sky and on its shield, but not in your head. Behind them is the fat Frager Fresser on a horse so skinny that you could hang a hat on its bones and mistake it for the rider’s shadow... He pawned his wife’s necklace to make silver horseshoes for his horse... Further... Edwin would not have finished his biographical satire , if knight Burtnek had not separated him from the doctor, calling him to him. The knights, at the sound of trumpets and kettledrums, rode two by two behind the bars, spun their heavy horses, bowed to the ladies, and bowed their spears before the hermeister. Their cuirasses were not distinguished by their pleasant design; shields and crests and long blankets of horses were decorated with such heraldic birds, animals and herbs that would drive all the naturalists of the world crazy. But all this glitter of armor, the diversity of feathers and scarves, the sewing of saddle blankets and blankets, the neighing of horses, the strumming of harness and the splashing and diversity all around - everything was amazing in its strangeness, it was wild, but captivating. And so the heralds read the regulations of the tournament, and the knights galloped out, leaving room for battle. The trumpet sounds again, and already the spears are breaking on the opponents’ chests, and the knocked out knights are crawling in the dust from the weight of their armor more than from the force of the blows. Often the willful horses carry them apart, and the spears strike the air; Often, having bumped their foreheads, they get tangled in the other’s harness and, like roosters, catch the enemy’s mistake. Now the Riga knight Grotenhelm has twice remained the winner and took a golden scarf as a prize from the hands of the queen of beauty. The trumpets thundered for him, and the people greeted him with shouts. Then the proud Ungern just left, who seemed to despise easy victories and was waiting for another to be crowned with them to decorate his triumph. They flew together, collided, and Grotenhelm rolled over his head with his spear. The funniest thing of all was the blow of Ungernov's spear: he turned Grotenhelm's helmet to the left in a circle, and he, jumping on the yoga, could not free himself from it for a long time, gasping for breath and seeing nothing. Laughter and applause flew from all sides. Ungern remained, waiting for opponents. Throwing away the reins and leaning on his spear, he stood majestically in the middle of the square. The trumpets thundered, the heralds called the hunters, but the strength of the knight was terrifying - no one appeared. All the ladies, all the spectators exclaimed: “Give Ungern the award, give it to the best, the bravest!” - Open it! - shouted the unknown knight, approaching, - and at the same moment, without waiting for the bars to be opened, he grabbed his horse in his spurs and flew over it like an arrow. The tail of the besieged horse lay on the ground, but the knight did not move in the saddle, only the feathers from his helmet rolled over his shoulders and stood up again from the blow. For a minute he stood rooted to the spot, slightly playing with the reins, as if wanting to look around and let himself be seen, and then quietly, with a manege step, he rode around the lists, greeting the assembly with a bow of his head. Its casing was lowered, the shield was without a coat of arms, the armor was blued with gold notching. His horse, fiery in color and pace, snored and snorted and was all in the wind, as if he was walking on a cloud of dust blown up by his feet. - What a handsome man! - Fraulein Louise von Klocken said, squinting, to her brother as the unknown person drove by. - What a stallion! - exclaimed her brother, - in all respects, - even the tail is a pipe. This picture is not a horse. The sacrum - at least sleep on it, the legs are thinner than those of the Italian Brencelli... and let them shoot me like peas if he dances no better than Vogt Tulane... just doesn’t speak. “Only donkeys have this privilege,” said Tulane, who happened to be sitting in the back, with annoyance. “I see that now,” von Klocken answered laughing. - But who is this unknown daredevil? - This is Donnerbatz! - answered many voices. - Did he really manage to dry his head so quickly? I left him for the sixth bottle of Hungarian at breakfast at Ratsger Lid's. Meanwhile, the knight rode up to the hermeister, bowed his spear, bowed low and low to Minna - and suddenly raised his horse on its hind legs, threw it to the right and galloped at full speed towards Ungern. Everyone gasped, afraid of the blow, but he immediately reined in his horse so close that the mouthpiece sounded against the mouthpiece... - What does this mean? - Ungern said with annoyance, amazed at such audacity. “If a knight wants to take a lesson in heraldry from me,” the unknown man answered mockingly, “then throwing a glove means a challenge to battle.” “Knight, I’ve been driving out spurs with this pointer for a long time, and more than one has lost their stirrups because of it!” - Ungern! We came together not to boast about our exploits, but to accomplish them. I challenge you to a duel to the death. - Ha! Ha! Ha! You challenge me to a fight to the death... No, brother, this is too funny! - Why are you laughing, proud man? I haven’t tickled you with my spear yet; Be careful that they don’t cry for you for your laughter. - Oh, you nameless braggart! You deserve to be trampled under the shoes of my horse. - Insolent and idle talker! Pick up your glove or get out of the tournament. - I will drive you out of the world, you madman! - cried the irritated Ungern, plunging his spear into the enemy’s glove. “And I will also stick your head on a spear.” - Feel better to see if yours is screwed on tightly. For life and death, Ungern! - This is your sentence... Bow for the last time to the rooster on the Olaev bell tower - you will never see each other again... - And you prepare a congratulatory speech to Satan... - Let's see what color the blood is that moves this impudent tongue ! “Let’s see what kind of lining this inflated heart has,” said the knights, leaving. And so the heralds divided the light and the wind in half, leveled the spears, and put a trumpet to their lips to conduct battle. Standing up, leaning forward, everyone breathes slightly, moves their eyes slightly. The hearts of ladies beat with fear, the hearts of men with curiosity; Everyone's gaze is intensely attentive. Ungern gathers and heats up his horse in order to tear it off instantly; sits in the saddle and twirls his spear. The stranger stands motionless, the sun does not play on his armor, not a hair of his horse’s mane moves... The trumpet thunders. The opponents rushed at each other like a whirlwind - once, twice, and there were no spears, but the blow was so strong that the stranger staggered, fell on the horse’s neck, and the feathers of the helmet mixed with the horse’s plume, and the runner carried him around the lists. Loud splashes filled the air, the ladies waved their scarves in Ungern's approval. This is how people are, this is how women are: they are always on the winning side. - Nice, nice, fellow countryman! - the Revelites shouted to him. - You sit so tightly in the saddle, as if you were cast from the same piece as a horse. “This is hardly true,” said Lonzius to Burtnek, who was neither alive nor dead waiting for the end of the battle. “Now he knows what it’s like to tear forget-me-nots from Ungernov’s spear,” added another. “I’m tea, such stars sparkle in his eyes that you wouldn’t see them in your dreams,” said the third. - Print out his casing! - many shouted. But the knight woke up, and the ridicule aroused new strength in him. This is how water smokes and boils from a drop of acid, this is how a dying flame flares up from a few grains of gunpowder. Again, with new spears, the knights rushed towards: one with confidence in victory, the other with the malice of vengeance... They fought, and Ungern fell. Heated, the stranger jumped off his horse and, stepping on the chest of the half-dead Ungern, prostrate in the dust, lifted his shoulder with the tip of his sword, pointed the sword at his chest and leaned on him. - Well, Ungern, who is the winner? “Fate,” he answered barely intelligibly. “And death, if you don’t confess; who defeated you? - You, you! - answered Ungern, gnashing his teeth. - That's not enough. You took the land from Burtnek by untruth. Give it up, or in a minute the earth that you are now covering with your body will be enough for you. Yes or no?.. - I agree to everything! - Do you hear, heralds and knights! I give him life only on this condition. Like an electric shock, delight overwhelmed the audience, hitherto silent, either out of fear for Ungern, or out of sympathy for the stranger. - Glory to the magnanimous, reward and honor to the winner! - rang out in a thunder of applause. - He, he has a reward! - everyone exclaimed. -- An unknown knight won the golden cup! - the judges of the tournament decided, and the heralds proclaimed it. Bowing majestically in all directions, the knight approached the dais where the hermeister was sitting with the queen of beauty; bowed to them and leaned on the sword in silence. “Noble knight,” said Hermeister Bruggeneus, standing, “you have shown your strength, your art and generosity; show us your victorious face to accept the reward! - Dear Germeister! important reasons forbid me to satisfy your curiosity. - These are the rules of the tournament. “In this case, I renounce my rights and sincerely thank the judges for an honor that I cannot use.” Having said this, the unknown man turned away from the Germeister with a bow... - Brave paladin! - said then Minna, trembling at her fate, filling the goblet with Hungarian wine. - Will you really refuse to answer my greetings for the health of the winner?.. As the queen of the holiday, I demand obedience, as a lady, I ask you... She took a sip and brought the cup to the stranger. -- No no! - he said, moving his glass away with his hand; it was clear that passions were fighting in him - he hesitated. - Minna! - he finally exclaimed, grabbing the goblet, - let it be!.. I would drink death from the cup that you touched with your lips... Leaders and knights! For the health and happiness of the queen of beauty! With the thunder of the pipes, the stranger lifted the casing...

You will not rise from the centuries-old dust,
You will not shine under the banner of the cross.
Heavy sword of the heirs of Rohrbach,
Livonia is a beautiful beauty.
N. Yazykov

[Rohrbach was the first Master of the Order of the Livonian Sword Bearers (Schwert-Briider). -- Note. author.] The incident that I present now took place in 1538, that is, fifteen years after the introduction of the Lutheran faith. The Order of the Livonian Crusaders had recently lost its head in the Prussian Order, devoted to Sigismund, and was already decrepit in terrible loneliness. The long peace with Russia rusted the sword, terrible for her in the hand of Plettepberg. The knights, having indulged in luxury, only knew what to fly and celebrate, and only rare skirmishes with Novgorod riders and Swedish Varangians kept their warlike spirit alive. However, if they did not inherit the courage of their ancestors, their pride grew higher and higher every year. The spirit of that age divided the metals themselves into noble and base; Is it any wonder that, while assuring others, the knights themselves, from the pure soul, were convinced that they were made of at least noble porcelain clay. It must be said that the nobility, which was then formed from land owners, contributed a lot to this. It sought to merge with chivalry, therefore, it aroused in it a desire exclusively to retain its benefits, which, God knows why, it called rights, and to morally humiliate new rivals. Meanwhile, the merchants, generally the most active, honest and useful class of all the inhabitants of Livonia, flattered by the ease of becoming nobles through the purchase of real estate or incited to outshine the nobles with pomp, rushed into luxury. The nobles, in order not to be outdone and compared with the knights, depleted their newly acquired estates. The knights, in the fight against both of them, mortgaged castles, completely ruined their vassals... and the disastrous consequence of such an unnatural arrogance of the classes was inevitable and not far off. Discord reigned everywhere; the weak undermined the strong, and the rich envied them. The military-trading society of the Blackheads (Schwarzen-Haupter), like the city militia of Revel, enjoyed almost knightly advantages, and therefore was hated by the knights. The turning point was approaching: Livonia resembled a desert, but its cities and castles shone with the bright colors of abundance, like an autumn leaf before falling. There were feasts everywhere; tournaments called all the youth, all the beauties together, and the Order noisily lived out its glory, wealth and very existence. Where did we stop?

What will be, will be, what will be,
it will be, and what God wills will be.
Bohdan Khmelnytsky

Slowly the unfamiliar knight opened his pale face and fell unconscious at the feet of the astonished Minna, fell from exhaustion and the first blow. - Edwin! - exclaimed Minna. - Merchant! - cried the ladies and knights, and a murmur of excitement spread through the assembly. - Such impudence is worth punishment... This insult deserves revenge! - was heard from everywhere, and knights, nobles, and Schwarzenheipters poured into the lists. - Throw out, beat, kill this impostor! - the knights shouted. - He's not ours. - He will be ours! - the Schwarzenheupters objected, huddling in a circle around the unconscious Edwin. - We won’t let anyone touch him with a hair... - Who won’t? Who won't allow it? Who? Is it not by our grace that you were admitted into the circle of knights? - the nobles made noise. - Not out of mercy, but by right. - He who gave the rights can take them. - You sold them to us, and didn’t give them as a gift. We are the same gentlemen as you in Revel, which we have more than once redeemed with our gold and saved with our blood. - Old songs, old fairy tales!.. Your courage swings on the scale, and honor, like a shorn gold coin, has greatly fallen in price... - Thunder and storm! We will print such coins on your foreheads that you will never wear out the stamp... - Arshinniks, robbers! - flew towards each other, and both sides were full of battle, when the Wenden Vogt von Delwig jumped onto the railing and said in a thunderous voice: - Nobles and knights! This is the consequence of our kindness! Whenever we had not allowed the Schwarzenheupters and the first citizens to interfere with us, this merchant would not have trampled on our brother and the advantages of the Order, and would not have offended us all in the person of Ungern. But let the past be a lesson to us for the future. Let it be from now on and forever forbidden for everyone, without exception, who does not bear the rank of knight or nobleman, to enter the tournament grid. “Let it be, let it be,” thundered the nobles and knights, and the heralds, with the sound of trumpets, proclaimed that no one except the nobles and knights could henceforth break spears with them in the tournament. - So we will break them in battle! - the Schwarzenheupters, offended by such an exception, made a noise, drawing their swords. -- A! If so, beat the blackheads! - the knights shouted. - Chop down the empty-headed ones! - the Schwarzenheupters exclaimed, rushing towards them, and instantly the swords jumped on their armor and the battle began. The screams of women, the oaths of opponents, the thunder of weapons filled the air. The crowded conditions multiplied the anxiety, horsemen and footmen, men-at-arms and unarmed, fighters and peacekeepers were mixed, and all the weapons, from hands to spears, were in use. Offended pride and unwavering pride incited the combatants, wine and anger blinded everyone, bitterness grew. In vain did the Germeister ask, persuade, and command; in vain, shouting and stamping his feet, he threw his staff, even his hat and robe, onto the lists as a sign of the closing of the tournament - no one listened, no one noticed him. Finally, fatigue did what neither the prayers of the wives nor the orders of the elders could accomplish. Both sides bowed to the admonitions of the good burgomaster Fegezak, and the opponents dispersed, threatening each other with swords and gazes. The deserted carnage was strewn with feathers and spurs, knights' and ladies' jewelry. Fortunately, the close quarters prevented any long-range killing, for the battle became a struggle; They say that few paid with their lives for this toy. Edwin was still lying in a mortal swoon from a severe bruise and a storm of feelings. Beside him, the lovely Minna was kneeling, having forgotten the whole world for her sweetheart and not listening to anything except the barely audible beating of his pulse; Lontius, courting Edwin, persuaded the frantic Burtnek, who swore with all the then known light that he would not give Edwin his daughter, although he remained the winner. - But your word, Baron, your knightly word! - But my ancestors, Mr. Doctor, my ancestors! It's better not to keep your word to support the name. In short, Edwin intended very highly; I will never marry Minna to a man without a glorious name. - But with good fame. - For a person who has a pedigree in the account book, who does not have a coat of arms. “He has thousands of them, Baron, and all on a golden field.” “Even if it’s all scattered in ducats, I won’t agree to split my shield with a sign in two.” “Remember, Baron, that Edwin gave you back with blood what Ungern had taken away; will you really pay for your generosity with ingratitude?” - Virtue is not a title... - We are promoting him to Commander of the Schwarzenheupter! - the elders of this class proudly objected. “He earned this dignity through courage.” “Do you hear?..” said the doctor. - This is almost knightly dignity! “Father,” Minna finally cried out, as if inspired, “he is coming to life, my Edwin is coming to life.” Forgive me,” she continued, shedding her father’s chest with bitter tears, “I love Edwin, I cannot live without him... You are free in my hand, but my heart forever belongs to Edwin. It seemed that she had exhausted all the strength of her soul and body to utter these words, and, having said them, like a lily, she bowed her head and fell unconscious on her father’s shoulder. This touched Burtnek more than all the arguments. There was no heart in his coat of arms, but it beat in his father’s chest. With tender care, supporting his daughter with his left hand, he fanned the feathers of his hat over her, wanted to call life into her with a kiss, and even a tear flashed on an unusual eyelash. Meanwhile, good Lontius pressed on him harder and harder: “He is rich, handsome, commander and brave; this will stop evil tongues... Do you really want to kill your daughter and deprive your friend of happiness by breaking your word? Moreover, the love of your daughter is known to the whole city... - Let me think for at least a day, at least an hour... - You will never come up with something better than what your heart tells you... So, Edwin is your son-in-law? - Son-in-law and son... Edwin and Minna, my dear children, awaken to a new life! Bright and joyful, Edwin galloped from the tournament next to his bride’s chariot, not taking his eyes off her and constantly kissing her hand. Descending from Blocksberg, they met Donnerbatz in full armor and with a spear in his hand... -Where are you going, dear Donnerbatz? - asked Burtnek. “To the tournament,” he answered, rubbing his eyes. “You slept through it... Let’s go to my wedding,” Edwin said with a grin. - For your wedding - really with Fraulein Minna?.. Isn’t this a dream? - God forbid you don’t wake up from such a happy dream! The train rushed noisily past, and Donnerbatz stood for a long time on the street with his mouth open in surprise.

Class 8 Lesson 39 Date __________________

Subject . Russian romantic prose of the first third of the 19th century: A.A. Bestuzhev-Marlinsky. “Revel Tournament”, “Terrible Fortune Telling”; V.F. Odoevsky. "Princess Mimi"

Goals: 1. Introduce students to the authors of romantic prose works. Review of romantic works. 2. Develop skill identify the features of romanticism in a literary work. 3. B cultivate respect for world history and culture, a sense of humanism,

tolerance.

During the classes

I. Motivational-target stage.

1. Org. moment.

Updating previous knowledge.

In previous lessons we got acquainted with the works of romanticism. Today we will continue this work. We are about to get acquainted with Russian romantic prose.

Announcement of the topic of the lesson by the teacher.

Let us formulate the expected results:

we will prove that the story of A.A. Bestuzhev-Marlinsky “Revel Tournament” is a romantic work;

we can name the signs of a romantic hero, landscape, plot;

II. Operational-cognitive stage.

Romantic trends affected not only poetry, but also prose, which from year to year became increasingly popular among readers. Romantics generously introduce into literature fairy-tale images and plots born from the poetic imagination of the people.

The world of folk tales and legends, romantic in its spirit, was an important, but not the only source of the emergence and development of fantastic stories.

In an effort to capture pictures of human passions and manifestations of the “national spirit,” writers turned to the facts and features of real life. With the expansion of factual material, the writer's worldview gradually changed: events and phenomena of modern life are gradually becoming the main subject of the image.

One of the most popular prose writers of the romantic period of the development of Russian literature was the DecembristAlexander Alexandrovich Bestuzhev(1797–1837), who published under the pseudonym Marlinsky.

Born on October 23 (November 3, n.s.) in St. Petersburg into a noble but impoverished noble family. He was educated at home, and from 1806 he studied at the Mountain Cadet Corps. From his youth he showed interest in literary creativity. In 1819, without completing the course of study, he entered the Life Guards Dragoon Regiment as a cadet and a year later was promoted to officer. The regiment was stationed near Peterhof, in the town of Marly (hence the later pseudonym - Marlinsky). Literary activity began here: he made his debut in print with translations of poetic and historical works, and then with critical articles.

Joining the “Free Society of Lovers of Russian Literature” (1820) brought him closer to Kuchelbecker, Ryleev and others. Since 1823, together with Ryleev, he has published the almanac “Polar Star”. Along with Kuchelbecker and Vyazemsky, he was the most prominent literary critic of the early 20s and a supporter of romanticism.

In the 20s, the stories “Roman and Olga”, “The Revel Tournament” and others were published, which laid the foundation for romantic prose in Russian literature. He also performed as a poet.

Decembrist sentiments were embodied in the fighting “Propaganda Songs,” written together with Ryleyev just before the uprising. He was admitted to the Northern Society in 1823.

Bestuzhev, a participant in the uprising on December 14, led the Moscow regiment to Senate Square. After the defeat of the rebels, he himself appeared at the guardhouse of the Winter Palace. While under arrest, he wrote a letter to Nicholas I, which was in the nature of a treatise and testified both to his courage and deep knowledge of the social state of the country. He was sentenced to 20 years of hard labor, then limited to exile in Siberia. Until July 1829 he was in a settlement in Yakutsk; from August he was assigned as a private in the active army to the Caucasus, where he showed extraordinary fearlessness. The emperor refused each time when he was nominated for awards, and only in 1836 was he given the rank of officer.

In the Caucasus, Bestuzhev wrote his most famous works in prose: “Test” (1830), “Lieutenant Belozor” (1831), “Ammalat-Bek” (1832), “Mulla-Nur” (1836), etc. He published them from 1830 in St. Petersburg and Moscow magazines under the pseudonym A. Marlinsky, as well as war stories and Caucasian essays.

In the battle for Cape Adler, A. Bestuzhev-Marlinsky was killed. His body was not found.

3.1. Contents of the story “Revel Tournament”. Signs of romanticism in the story.

A) Contents of the story. Student survey.

Why did the litigation break out between the knights of Burtnek and Ungern?

B) Signs of romanticism.

The hero of the work suffers from love, wants to be understood and accepted into the world of knights. He strives for the unusual, rejecting everyday reality. Disguised as a knight, he wins the battle and wins the daughter of the knight Burtnek Minna.

3.2. The main idea of the story.

3.3. Edwin is a romantic hero.

Describe Edwin's appearance. Page 140-141.

His attitude towards Minnie (He is in love with her. For her sake, he does a fantastic act).

What fantastic act does Edwin perform? (pp. 145-146).

Can we call Edwin a romantic hero of prose?

4. Work on the story “Terrible fortune telling.”

A) Brief summary of the story “Terrible fortune-telling.”

The story is told from the perspective of a young, brave military man. His whole heart, all his thoughts, all his passion, warmth and love were concentrated around a single woman - Polina. The reciprocal feeling was clouded only by the fact that the young woman was married. And even strong feelings could not overcome her severity. The lovers decided that for the common good they needed to separate and never see each other again. Such a decision could have saved Polina’s good name, but it clearly tore apart hearts bound by emotion.

With heavy thoughts, on the eve of the New Year, the narrator is caught in the garrison by a friend who invites him to a ball. In addition to all other delights, the friend indicates in the letter that Polina will also be present at the festive evening. Of course, the young heart cannot stand it and is tempted to see the lovely features once again, to breathe the same air, to say goodbye for the last time. And the young man decides to go on a date.

A young village guy decides to carry the military man on a gallant three horses. Speed, the ringing of bells, the wind in the face, snow above the knee - all this pleases travelers until they lose their way and a village boy recognizes an enchanted lake in the vicinity. People saw mermaids, goblins and devils here. From here the men returned numb and numb. More than one traveler stayed here forever.

In addition to the fact that the place was enchanted, the travelers lost their way and lost their bearings. A young guy who loved life literally began to say goodbye to the white light. But the horse's saving trail led them onto the road and into the village. Instead of a cheerful ball and a date with his beloved, the narrator finds himself at village gatherings with red-haired girls and young boys. Everything goes simply and peacefully until a strange guest appears.

The young, cheeky, handsome merchant is completely saturated with vice. After his appearance in the peasant house, quarrels, drinking, and stories about evil spirits begin. Finally, our hero receives an invitation from a young, strong guy to join him in a terrible fortune telling. Our brave man agrees, partly out of curiosity. The roots of this fortune telling go deep into ancient paganism and you can periodically hear about such rituals in different parts of Europe.

Having gone to the cemetery with a full set of ritual objects, the young military man and his companion only want to find out what awaits them in the future. And after drawing the magic circle and killing the rooster, our hero almost heard the tramp of evil spirits, and a terrible horror gripped his heart. But it turned out to be just a new acquaintance who sowed confusion in the village house. The young merchant offered to take the hero to the ball to see Polina.

Such a proposal could not but please the hero, and he happily, forgetting all the horrors of that night, set off to meet love. How his heart rejoiced when he saw the object of his adoration, heard her voice, closed his hands on her figure while dancing, and caught a tender glance. It seemed that bliss was here and would last forever with the two lovers.

But a wife cannot give her love to anyone except her husband. And, of course, the jealous person rushes into the room where the couple is secluded for revenge. It seemed impossible to escape until a strange new acquaintance appeared. He appeared exactly where needed and at the right moment. The lovers decide to run away from everyone and start a new life, far from human prejudices and a hateful husband. Of course, the severity of the decision made overshadows happiness, and it’s as if it doesn’t exist. The lovers can no longer be happy with each other. And in the pursuit, a tragedy occurs that will forever poison their existence.

B) Conversation based on the story.

– What literary movement can this story belong to? (This is a romantic work, because there is a lot of fantasy in the story. In the work, the author showed his love for Russian folklore: witchcraft, fortune telling, manifestations of evil spirits. This terrible Christmas story with national identity mixes images of werewolves, mermaids, ghosts and evil spirits with real events. But in the author’s usual manner, at the end of the story all the fantastic moments receive a rational explanation).

5.Work based on the story by V.F. Odoevsky "Princess Mimi".

The most common genre in the 1830s was the so-called “secular story,” which arose during the development of romantic prose. The life of secular society, the depiction of the harmful effects of its prejudices on the personality of an extraordinary hero, the dependence of private life

people from the dominant way of social life were embodied in the stories and stories of V.F. Odoevsky, O.M. Somov, A.A. Bestuzhev (Marlinsky), N.F. Pavlov, N.A. Polevoy, V.A. Sollogub, I.I. Panaev and others.

Prince Vladimir Fedorovich Odoevsky - famous Russian writer and public figure. A man of the most versatile and deep education, a thoughtful and receptive thinker, a talented and original writer, Odoevsky was sensitive to all the phenomena of contemporary scientific and social life.

“Princess Mimi” is a story from social life, full of evil irony. The story is a mirror reflection of the vicious morals that reign in Secular society, and also raises a number of pressing issues for that time, such as the so-called “Women's Question”. Mimi is an embittered gossip. In “Mimi” the author asks the question - why are there people whose whole calling, all their pleasure is to sow disaster, to arouse disgust for humanity in high souls. The work depicts the life of a young lady of that time, growing up under the complete control of her mothers, in accordance with the main ideals of society - somehow she would not get married. Those who fail to do this are not accepted by society. Even 30-year-old callous Mimi suffers from this. Perhaps this embitterment pushes her to take frankly unpleasant steps, which she takes against the more successful Baroness Dauerthal.

III. Control and evaluation stage.

Lesson summary.

What new did you learn in the lesson?

What features are characteristic of romantic prose?

Was it interesting?

Assessment.

Homework.