Bunin sunstroke print. Analysis of the story by I. A. Bunin Sunstroke
Ivan Bunin
After lunch, we walked out of the brightly and hotly lit dining room onto the deck and stopped at the railing. She closed her eyes, put her hand to her cheek with her palm facing outward, laughed a simple, charming laugh - everything was charming about this little woman - and said:
I think I'm drunk... Where did you come from? Three hours ago I didn’t even know you existed. I don't even know where you sat down. In Samara? But still... Is it my head that’s spinning, or are we turning somewhere?
There was darkness and lights ahead. From the darkness, a strong, soft wind beat in the face, and the lights rushed somewhere to the side: the steamer, with Volga panache, abruptly described a wide arc, running up to a small pier.
The lieutenant took her hand and raised it to his lips. The hand, small and strong, smelled of tan. And my heart sank blissfully and terribly at the thought of how strong and dark she must be under that light canvas dress after a whole month of lying under the southern sun, in the hot sea sand(she said she was coming from Anapa). The lieutenant muttered:
Let's go...
Where? - she asked in surprise.
On this pier.
He said nothing. She again put the back of her hand to her hot cheek.
Crazy…
“Let’s get off,” he repeated stupidly. - I beg you…
“Oh, do as you wish,” she said, turning away.
The runaway steamer hit the dimly lit dock with a soft thud, and they almost fell on top of each other. The end of the rope flew over their heads, then it rushed back, and the water boiled noisily, the gangway rattled... The lieutenant rushed to get his things.
A minute later they passed the sleepy office, came out onto sand deep as deep as the hub, and silently sat down in a dusty cab. The gentle climb uphill, among rare crooked streetlights, along a road soft with dust, seemed endless. But then they got up, drove out and crackled along the pavement, there was some kind of square, public places, a tower, the warmth and smells of a night summer provincial town... The cab stopped near the illuminated entrance, behind the open doors of which an old wooden staircase rose steeply, an old, unshaven footman in wearing a pink blouse and a frock coat, he took his things with displeasure and walked forward on his trampled feet. They entered a large, but terribly stuffy room, hotly heated by the sun during the day, with white drawn curtains on the windows and two unburnt candles on the mirror - and as soon as they entered and the footman closed the door, the lieutenant so impulsively rushed to her and both of them suffocated so frantically in a kiss , that for many years later they remembered this moment: neither one nor the other had ever experienced anything like this in their entire lives.
At ten o'clock in the morning, sunny, hot, happy, with the ringing of churches, with the bazaar on the square in front of the hotel, with the smell of hay, tar and again all that complex and odorous smell that a Russian district town smells of, she, this little nameless woman, who did not say her name, jokingly calling herself a beautiful stranger, left. We slept little, but in the morning, coming out from behind the screen near the bed, washing and dressing in five minutes, she was as fresh as she was at seventeen. Was she embarrassed? No, very little. She was still simple, cheerful and - already reasonable.
No, no, honey,” she said in response to his request to go further together, “no, you must stay until the next ship.” If we go together, everything will be ruined. This will be very unpleasant for me. I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think of me. Nothing even similar to what happened has ever happened to me, and there never will be again. The eclipse definitely hit me... Or, rather, we both got something like sunstroke...
And the lieutenant somehow easily agreed with her. In a light and happy spirit, he took her to the pier - just in time for the departure of the pink "Airplane", - kissed her on the deck in front of everyone and barely had time to jump onto the gangplank, which had already moved back.
Just as easily, carefree, he returned to the hotel. However, something has changed. The room without her seemed somehow completely different than it was with her. He was still full of her - and empty. It was strange! There was still the smell of her good English cologne, her half-drunk cup was still standing on the tray, but she was no longer there... And the lieutenant’s heart suddenly sank with such tenderness that the lieutenant hurried to light a cigarette and, slapping his boots with the glass, walked back and forth across the room several times.
Strange adventure! - he said out loud, laughing and feeling that tears were welling up in his eyes. - “I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think...” And she already left...
The screen had been pulled back, the bed had not yet been made. And he felt that he simply had no strength to look at this bed now. He covered it with a screen, closed the windows so as not to hear the market chatter and the creaking of wheels, lowered the white bubbling curtains, sat down on the sofa... Yes, that’s the end of this “road adventure”! She left - and now she’s already far away, probably sitting in the glass white salon or on the deck and looking at the huge river glistening in the sun, at the oncoming rafts, at the yellow shallows, at the shining distance of water and sky, at all this immeasurable Volga expanse... And forgive, and forever, forever... Because where can they meet now? “I can’t,” he thought, “I can’t, for no reason, no reason, come to this city, where her husband, her three-year-old girl, in general her whole family and all her usual life! And this city seemed to him like some kind of special, reserved city, and the thought that she would live her lonely life in it, often, perhaps, remembering him, remembering their chance, such a fleeting meeting, and he would never will not see her, this thought amazed and amazed him. No, this can't be! It would be too wild, unnatural, implausible! - And he felt such pain and such uselessness of his entire future life without her that he was overcome by horror and despair.
"What the hell! - he thought, getting up, again starting to walk around the room and trying not to look at the bed behind the screen. - What’s wrong with me? It seems that this is not the first time - and now... What’s special about her and what actually happened? In fact, it looks like some kind of sunstroke! And most importantly, how can I now spend the whole day in this outback without her?”
He still remembered all of her, with all her slightest features, he remembered the smell of her tan and canvas dress, her strong body, the lively, simple and cheerful sound of her voice... The feeling of the pleasures he had just experienced with all her feminine charm was still unusually alive in him, but now the main thing was still this second, completely new feeling - that strange, incomprehensible feeling that was not there at all while they were together, which he could not even imagine in himself, having started this yesterday, as he thought, only a funny acquaintance, and about which there was no one, no one to tell now! “And most importantly,” he thought, “you’ll never say again!” And what to do, how to live this endless day, with these memories, with this insoluble torment, in this godforsaken town above the very shining Volga along which this pink steamer carried her away!
“Sunstroke,” like most of Bunin’s prose from the emigration period, has a love theme. In it, the author shows that shared feelings can give rise to a serious love drama.
L.V. Nikulin in his book “Chekhov, Bunin, Kuprin: Literary Portraits” indicates that the story “Sunstroke” was originally called by the author “ Casual acquaintance", then Bunin changes the name to "Ksenia". However, both of these names were crossed out by the author, because did not create Bunin’s mood, “sound” (the first simply reported the event, the second named the potential name of the heroine).
The writer settled on the third, most successful option - “Sunstroke”, which figuratively conveys the state experienced by the main character of the story and helps to reveal the essential features of Bunin’s vision of love: suddenness, brightness, short-term feeling, instantly capturing a person and, as it were, burning him to the ground.
We learn little about the main characters in the story. The author does not indicate names or ages. With this technique, the writer seems to elevate his characters above the environment, time and circumstances. The story has two main characters - a lieutenant and his companion. They had only known each other for a day and could not imagine that an unexpected acquaintance could turn into a feeling that neither of them had experienced in their entire lives. But the lovers are forced to part, because... in the writer’s understanding, everyday life is contraindicated for love and can only destroy and kill it.
A direct polemic with one of the famous stories of A.P. is obvious here. Chekhov's "The Lady with the Dog", where the same unexpected meeting of the heroes and the love that visited them continues, develops over time, and overcomes the test of everyday life. The author of "Sunstroke" could not do this plot solution, because “ordinary life” does not arouse his interest and lies beyond his love concept.
The writer does not immediately give his characters the opportunity to realize everything that happened to them. The whole story of the heroes’ rapprochement is a kind of exposition of the action, preparation for the shock that will happen in the soul of the lieutenant later, and which he will not immediately believe. This happens after the hero, having seen off his companion, returns to the room. At first, the lieutenant is struck by a strange feeling of emptiness in his room.
IN further development action, the contrast between the absence of the heroine in the real surrounding space and her presence in the soul and memory of the protagonist gradually intensifies. Inner world The lieutenant is filled with a feeling of improbability, unnaturalness of everything that happened and the unbearable pain of loss.
The writer conveys the hero's painful love experiences through changes in his mood. At first, the lieutenant’s heart is compressed with tenderness, he grieves, while trying to hide his confusion. Then there is a kind of dialogue between the lieutenant and himself.
Bunin pays especially close attention to the hero’s gestures, his facial expressions and glances. His impressions are also important, manifested in the form of phrases spoken out loud, quite elementary, but percussive. Only occasionally is the reader given the opportunity to find out the thoughts of the hero. In this way, Bunin builds his psychological author’s analysis - both secret and overt.
The hero tries to laugh, to drive away sad thoughts, but he fails. Every now and then he sees objects that remind him of the stranger: a rumpled bed, a hairpin, an unfinished cup of coffee; smells her perfume. This is how torment and melancholy arise, leaving no trace of the former lightness and carelessness. Showing the abyss that lies between the past and the present, the writer emphasizes the subjective and lyrical experience of time: the momentary present spent with the heroes together and that eternity into which time without his beloved grows for the lieutenant.
Having parted with the heroine, the lieutenant realizes that his life has lost all meaning. It is even known that in one of the editions of “Sunstroke” it was written that the lieutenant was persistently contemplating suicide. So, literally before the reader’s eyes, a kind of metamorphosis takes place: in the place of a completely ordinary and unremarkable army lieutenant, a man appeared who thinks in a new way, suffers and feels ten years older.
Difficult life Ivan Alekseevich left its mark on his works, but in spite of everything, the theme of love runs like a red stripe through all his work.
In 1924, Bunin began to write a series of works that were very closely related to each other. These were separate stories, each of which was an independent work. These stories are united by one theme - the theme of love. Bunin combined five of his works in that cycle: “Mitya’s Love”, “Sunstroke”, “Ida”, “Mordovian Sundress”, “The Case of Cornet Elagin”. They describe five different cases love appears out of nowhere. That very love that strikes to the very heart, overshadowing the mind and subjugating the will.
This article will focus on the story “Sunstroke”. It was written in 1925, when the writer was in the Maritime Alps. The writer later told Galina Kuznetsova, one of his lovers, how the story originated. She, in turn, wrote it all down in her diary.
A connoisseur of human passions, a man capable of erasing all boundaries in the face of a wave of feelings, a writer who mastered words with perfect grace, inspired by a new feeling, easily and naturally expressed his thoughts as soon as any idea arose. The stimulator could be any object, any event or natural phenomenon. The main thing is not to waste the resulting sensation, and to fully surrender to the description, without stopping, and perhaps without fully controlling yourself.
Plot of the story
The storyline of the story is quite simple, although we should not forget that the action takes place a hundred years ago, when morals were completely different, and it was not customary to write about it openly. On a wonderful warm night, a man and a woman meet on a ship. They are both warmed up with wine, there are magnificent views around, the mood is good and romance emanates from everywhere. They communicate, then spend the night together in a nearby hotel and leave when morning comes.
The meeting is so amazing, fleeting and unusual for both that the main characters did not even recognize each other’s names. This madness is justified by the author: “neither one nor the other has ever experienced anything like this in his entire life.”
The fleeting meeting impressed the hero so much that he could not find a place for himself after parting the next day. The lieutenant realizes that only now he understands what happiness can look like when the object of all desires is nearby. After all, for a moment, even this night, he was the most happy man on the ground. The tragedy of the situation was also added by the realization that most likely he would not see her again.
At the beginning of their acquaintance, the lieutenant and the stranger did not exchange any information; they did not even recognize each other’s names. As if dooming himself in advance to one and only communication. The young people secluded themselves with one single purpose. But this does not discredit them; they have a serious justification for their actions. The reader learns about this from the words of the main character. After spending the night together, she seems to conclude: “It’s as if an eclipse has come over me... Or, rather, we both got something like sunstroke...” And this sweet young woman wants to believe.
The narrator manages to dispel any illusions regarding the possible future of the wonderful couple and reports that the stranger has a family, a husband and a little daughter. A main character When he came to his senses, assessed the situation and decided not to lose such a beloved object of personal preference, he suddenly realizes that he cannot even send a telegram to his night lover. He knows nothing about her, neither name, nor surname, nor address.
Although the author did not pay attention detailed description women, the reader likes her. I want to believe that the mysterious stranger is beautiful and smart. And this incident should be perceived as sunstroke, nothing more.
Bunin probably created the image femme fatale, which represented his own ideal. And although there is no detail either in appearance or in the internal filling of the heroine, we know that she has a simple and charming laugh, long hair, since she uses stilettos. The woman has a strong and elastic body, strong little hands. The fact that a subtle aroma of perfume can be felt close to her can indicate that she is well-groomed.
Semantic load
In his work, Bunin did not elaborate. There are no names or titles in the story. The reader does not know what ship the main characters were on, or in what city they stopped. Even the names of the heroes remain unknown. Probably, the writer wanted the reader to understand that names and titles are not important when it comes to such a sublime feeling as falling in love and love. It cannot be said that the lieutenant and the married lady have a great secret love. The passion that flared up between them was most likely initially perceived by both as an affair during the trip. But something happened in the soul of the lieutenant, and now he finds no place for himself from the surging feelings.
From the story you can see that the writer himself is a personality psychologist. This is easy to track by the behavior of the main character. At first, the lieutenant parted with his stranger with such ease and even joy. However, after some time, he wonders what it is about this woman that makes him think about her every second, why now the whole wide world is not nice to him.
The writer managed to convey all the tragedy of unfulfilled or lost love.
Structure of the work
In his story, Bunin described, without affectation or embarrassment, a phenomenon that the common people call treason. But he was able to do it very subtly and beautifully, thanks to his writing talent. In fact, the reader becomes a witness of the greatest feeling that has just been born - love. But it happens in reverse chronological order. Standard scheme: looking after, getting to know each other, walks, meetings, dinners - all this is thrown aside. Only the acquaintance of the main characters immediately leads them to the climax in the relationship between a man and a woman. And only after parting does satisfied passion suddenly give birth to love.
“The feeling of the pleasures he had just experienced was still alive in him, but now the main thing was a new feeling.”
The author conveys feelings in detail, placing emphasis on such little things as smells and sounds. For example, the story describes in detail the morning when the market square is open, with its smells and sounds. And the ringing of bells can be heard from the nearby church. It all seems happy and bright, and contributes to unprecedented romance. At the end of the work, all the same things seem unpleasant, loud and irritable to the hero. The sun no longer warms, but scorches, and you want to hide from it.
In conclusion, one sentence should be quoted:
“The dark summer dawn faded far ahead, gloomily, sleepily and multi-coloredly reflected in the river... and the lights floated and floated back, scattered in the darkness around”
This is what reveals the author’s concept of love. Bunin himself once said that there is no happiness in life, but there are some happy moments that you need to live and appreciate. After all, love can appear suddenly and disappear forever. As sad as it may be, in Bunin’s stories the characters constantly break up. Perhaps he wants to tell us that there is great meaning in separation, because of it, love remains deep in the soul and diversifies human sensitivity. And all this really looks like sunstroke.
After lunch, we walked out of the brightly and hotly lit dining room onto the deck and stopped at the railing. She closed her eyes, put her hand to her cheek with her palm facing outwards, laughed a simple, charming laugh - everything was charming about this little woman - and said:
“I’m completely drunk... Actually, I’m completely crazy.” Where did you come from? Three hours ago I didn’t even know you existed. I don't even know where you sat down. In Samara? But still, you're cute. Is it my head that’s spinning, or are we turning somewhere?
There was darkness and lights ahead. From the darkness, a strong, soft wind beat in the face, and the lights rushed somewhere to the side: the steamer, with Volga panache, abruptly described a wide arc, running up to a small pier.
The lieutenant took her hand and raised it to his lips. The hand, small and strong, smelled of tan. And her heart sank blissfully and terribly at the thought of how strong and dark she must be under this light canvas dress after a whole month of lying under the southern sun, on the hot sea sand (she said that she was coming from Anapa).
The lieutenant muttered:
- Let's go...
- Where? – she asked in surprise.
- On this pier.
He said nothing. She again put the back of her hand to her hot cheek.
- Crazy…
“Let’s get off,” he repeated stupidly. - I beg you…
“Oh, do as you wish,” she said, turning away.
The runaway steamer hit the dimly lit dock with a soft thud, and they almost fell on top of each other. The end of the rope flew over their heads, then it rushed back, and the water boiled noisily, the gangway rattled... The lieutenant rushed to get his things.
A minute later they passed the sleepy office, came out onto sand deep as deep as the hub, and silently sat down in a dusty cab. The gentle climb uphill, among rare crooked streetlights, along a road soft with dust, seemed endless. But then they got up, drove out and crackled along the pavement, there was some kind of square, public places, a tower, the warmth and smells of a night summer provincial town... The cab stopped near the illuminated entrance, behind the open doors of which an old wooden staircase rose steeply, an old, unshaven footman in wearing a pink blouse and a frock coat, he took his things with displeasure and walked forward on his trampled feet. They entered a large, but terribly stuffy room, hotly heated by the sun during the day, with white drawn curtains on the windows and two unburnt candles on the mirror - and as soon as they entered and the footman closed the door, the lieutenant so impulsively rushed to her and both of them suffocated so frantically in a kiss , that for many years later they remembered this moment: neither one nor the other had ever experienced anything like this in their entire lives.
At ten o'clock in the morning, sunny, hot, happy, with the ringing of churches, with the market on the square in front of the hotel, with the smell of hay, tar and again all that complex and odorous smell that a Russian district town smells of, she, this little nameless woman, who did not say her name, jokingly calling herself a beautiful stranger, left. We slept little, but in the morning, coming out from behind the screen near the bed, washing and dressing in five minutes, she was as fresh as she was at seventeen. Was she embarrassed? No, very little. She was still simple, cheerful and - already reasonable.
“No, no, honey,” she said in response to his request to go further together, “no, you must stay until the next ship.” If we go together, everything will be ruined. This will be very unpleasant for me. I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think of me. Nothing even similar to what happened has ever happened to me, and there never will be again. The eclipse definitely hit me... Or, rather, we both got something like sunstroke...
And the lieutenant somehow easily agreed with her. In a light and happy spirit, he took her to the pier - just in time for the departure of the pink Airplane - kissed her on the deck in front of everyone and barely had time to jump onto the gangplank, which had already moved back.
Just as easily, carefree, he returned to the hotel. However, something has changed. The room without her seemed somehow completely different than it was with her. It was still full of her - and empty. It was strange! There was still the smell of her good English cologne, her half-drunk cup was still standing on the tray, but she was no longer there... And the lieutenant’s heart suddenly sank with such tenderness that the lieutenant hurried to light a cigarette and, slapping his boots with the glass, walked back and forth across the room several times.
- A strange adventure! - he said out loud, laughing and feeling tears welling up in his eyes. - “I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think...” And she already left... Ridiculous woman!
The screen had been pulled back, the bed had not yet been made. And he felt that he simply had no strength to look at this bed now. He covered it with a screen, closed the windows so as not to hear the market chatter and the creaking of wheels, lowered the white bubbling curtains, sat down on the sofa... Yes, that’s the end of this “road adventure”! She left - and now she’s already far away, probably sitting in the glass white salon or on the deck and looking at the huge river glistening in the sun, at the oncoming rafts, at the yellow shallows, at the shining distance of water and sky, at all this immeasurable Volga expanse... And forgive me, and forever, forever. - Because where can they meet now? “I can’t,” he thought, “I can’t, for no reason, no reason, come to this city, where her husband, her three-year-old girl, in general, her whole family and her whole ordinary life!” And this city seemed to him like some kind of special, reserved city, and the thought that she would live her lonely life in it, often, perhaps, remembering him, remembering their chance, such a fleeting meeting, and he would never will not see her, this thought amazed and amazed him. No, this can't be! It would be too wild, unnatural, implausible! - And he felt such pain and such uselessness of his entire future life without her that he was overcome by horror and despair.
"What the hell! - he thought, getting up, again starting to walk around the room and trying not to look at the bed behind the screen. - What’s wrong with me? It seems that this is not the first time - and now... What’s special about her and what actually happened? In fact, it looks like some kind of sunstroke! And most importantly, how can I now spend the whole day in this outback without her?”
He still remembered all of her, with all her slightest features, he remembered the smell of her tan and canvas dress, her strong body, the lively, simple and cheerful sound of her voice... The feeling of the pleasures he had just experienced with all her feminine charm was still unusually alive in him, but now the main thing was still this second, completely new feeling - that painful, incomprehensible feeling that was completely absent while they were together, which he could not even imagine in himself, starting yesterday this, as he thought, only a funny acquaintance, and about which there was no one, no one to tell now! “And most importantly,” he thought, “you’ll never be able to tell!” And what to do, how to live this endless day, with these memories, with this insoluble torment, in this godforsaken town above the very shining Volga along which this pink steamer carried her away!
I needed to save myself, do something, distract myself, go somewhere. He resolutely put on his cap, took the stack, quickly walked, jingling his spurs, along the empty corridor, ran down the steep stairs to the entrance... Yes, but where to go? At the entrance stood a cab driver, young, in a smart suit, and calmly smoking a cigarette, obviously waiting for someone. The lieutenant looked at him in confusion and amazement: how can you sit so calmly on the box, smoke and generally be simple, careless, indifferent? “I’m probably the only one so terribly unhappy in this whole city,” he thought, heading towards the bazaar.
The market was already leaving. For some reason he walked through the fresh manure among the carts, among the carts with cucumbers, among the new bowls and pots, and the women sitting on the ground vied with each other to call him, took the pots in their hands and knocked, rang them with their fingers, showing their good quality, men they stunned him, shouted to him, “Here are the first-class cucumbers, your honor!” It was all so stupid and absurd that he fled from the market. He entered the cathedral, where they were singing loudly, cheerfully and decisively, with the consciousness of a fulfilled duty, then he walked for a long time, circling around the small, hot and neglected garden on the cliff of a mountain, above the boundless light steel expanse of the river... The shoulder straps and buttons of his jacket were so burned that they could not be touched. The inside of his cap was wet from sweat, his face was burning... Returning to the hotel, he entered with pleasure into the large and empty cool dining room on the ground floor, took off his cap with pleasure and sat down at a table near the open window, through which there was a heat, but still there was a whiff of air, and ordered a botvina with ice. Everything was good, there was immense happiness in everything, great joy, even in this heat and in all the market smells, in this whole unfamiliar town and in this old county hotel there was it, this joy, and at the same time the heart was simply torn to pieces. He drank several glasses of vodka while eating lightly salted cucumbers with dill and feeling that he, without hesitation, would die tomorrow, if by some miracle he could return her, spend another, this day, with her - spend only then, only then, to tell her something prove, convince how painfully and enthusiastically he loves her... Why prove? Why convince? He didn’t know why, but it was more necessary than life.
- My nerves are completely gone! - he said, pouring his fifth glass of vodka.
He pushed his shoe away from him, asked for black coffee and began to smoke and think intensely: what should he do now, how to get rid of this sudden, unexpected love? But getting rid of it - he felt it too vividly - was impossible. And he suddenly stood up quickly again, took his cap and riding stack, and, asking where the post office was, hurriedly went there with the phrase of the telegram already prepared in his head: “From now on, my life is forever, to the grave, yours, in your power.” - But, having reached the old thick-walled house where there was a post office and telegraph, he stopped in horror: he knew the city where she lived, he knew that she had a husband and a three-year-old daughter, but he did not know her last name or first name! He asked her about this several times yesterday at dinner and at the hotel, and each time she laughed and said:
- Why do you need to know who I am? I am Marya Marevna, an overseas princess... Isn’t that enough for you?
On the corner, near the post office, there was a photographic showcase. He looked for a long time at a large portrait of some military man in thick epaulets, with bulging eyes, a low forehead, with amazingly magnificent sideburns and a wide chest, completely decorated with orders... How wild, how absurd, scary is everything everyday, ordinary, when the heart is struck, - yes, he was amazed, he now understood it, - by this terrible “sunstroke”, too great love, too much happiness! He looked at the newlywed couple - a young man in a long frock coat and white tie, with a crew cut, stretched out in front arm in arm with a girl in a wedding gauze - he turned his eyes to the portrait of some pretty and perky young lady in a student’s cap at an askew... Then, languishing in painful Envy of all these people unknown to him, not suffering, he began to look intently along the street.
- Where to go? What to do?
The street was completely empty. The houses were all the same, white, two-story, merchant houses, with large gardens, and it seemed that there was not a soul in them; white thick dust lay on the pavement; and all this was blinding, everything was flooded with hot, fiery and joyful, but here it seemed aimless, sun. In the distance the street rose, hunched over and rested on a cloudless, grayish sky with a reflection. There was something southern about it, reminiscent of Sevastopol, Kerch... Anapa. This was especially unbearable. And the lieutenant, with his head bowed, squinting from the light, intently looking at his feet, staggering, stumbling, clinging spur to spur, walked back.
He returned to the hotel so overwhelmed with fatigue, as if he had made a huge trek somewhere in Turkestan, in the Sahara. He, gathering his last strength, entered his large and empty room. The room was already tidy, devoid of the last traces of her - only one hairpin, forgotten by her, lay on the night table! He took off his jacket and looked at himself in the mirror: his face - an ordinary officer’s face, gray from the tan, with a whitish mustache, bleached from the sun and bluish white eyes, which seemed even whiter from the tan - now had an excited, crazy expression, and in There was something youthful and deeply unhappy about the thin white shirt with a standing starched collar. He lay down on the bed, on his back, and put his dusty boots on the dump. The windows were open, the curtains were drawn, and a light breeze blew them in from time to time, blowing into the room the heat of heated iron roofs and all this luminous and now completely empty silent Volga world. He lay with his hands under the back of his head and gazed intently into the space in front of him. Then he clenched his teeth, closed his eyelids, feeling the tears rolling down his cheeks from under them, and finally fell asleep, and when he opened his eyes again, the evening sun was already turning reddish yellow behind the curtains. The wind died down, the room was stuffy and dry, like in an oven... And yesterday and this morning were remembered as if they were ten years ago.
He slowly got up, slowly washed his face, raised the curtains, rang the bell and asked for the samovar and the bill, and drank tea with lemon for a long time. Then he ordered a cab driver to be brought, things to be taken out, and, sitting in the cab, on its red, faded seat, he gave the footman five whole rubles.
- And it looks like, your honor, that it was I who brought you at night! - the driver said cheerfully, taking the reins.
When we went down to the pier, the blue summer night was already shining over the Volga, and many colorful lights were already scattered along the river, and the lights were hanging on the masts of the approaching steamship.
- Delivered it right! - the cab driver said ingratiatingly.
The lieutenant gave him five rubles, took a ticket, walked to the pier... Just like yesterday, there was a soft knock on its pier and slight dizziness from the unsteadiness underfoot, then a flying end, the sound of water boiling and running forward under the wheels of a steamer that pulled back a little. ... And the crowd of people on this ship, already lit everywhere and smelling of kitchen, seemed unusually friendly and good.
The dark summer dawn faded far ahead, gloomily, sleepily and multi-coloredly reflected in the river, which in some places still glowed like trembling ripples in the distance beneath it, under this dawn, and the lights floated and floated back, scattered in the darkness around.
The lieutenant sat under a canopy on the deck, feeling ten years older.
Maritime Alps. 1925
They meet on the deck of the ship. She is a lovely little woman, he is a military man. She returns home along the Volga from Anapa. Three hours ago she did not know about his existence, however, she accepts his offer to get off at the nearest pier. They stay at a hotel in a small provincial town.
The next morning, without a hint of embarrassment, the main character leaves her lover, refusing to continue the journey together, so as not to spoil the memory of their wonderful romance. Recklessness is unusual for her; nothing like this has ever happened to her before and never will happen. Their adventure is an eclipse, a sunstroke. He accompanies her to the pier and says goodbye to her forever.
The young man is left alone. He returns to the hotel room, where everything reminds him of her, for some reason wanders around the bazaar, where everything seems stupid and absurd, enters the cathedral in search of solace, has dinner, but nothing returns him to his usual peace. An unexpected acquaintance caused a storm of emotions: happiness, melancholy, jealousy happy couples whom he sees in photographs in the window of a photo studio. Realizing that he cannot get rid of the sudden surge of feeling, the lieutenant is ready to send a telegram to the stranger and inform him that from now on his life is at her mercy. However, he does not know her name. He only knows that she is married and has a three-year-old daughter.
After wandering around the city, the main character returns to his room with an expression of love madness in the look of his light blue eyes, throws himself on the bed and falls asleep in tears. Waking up in the morning, he leisurely drinks tea with lemon, and the events of yesterday seem to him to have happened a decade ago. Continuing the journey brings relief, but lost among the numerous passengers of the ship and admiring the expanses of the river, he feels ten years older. Nothing passes without a trace.
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