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Finally the carriage stopped at a high gate. Complex sentence with attributive clause (continuation of the topic)

If I ever get married, I will get married in this church,” Francine said.

We sat on the benches, knelt on the prayer mats, and stood reverently in front of the altar.

How beautiful,” said Francine.

Mr. Council reminded us that it was time to go, and we returned to the hotel. From there we went to the station where we caught the train to Preston Carstairs.

When we arrived, there was a carriage waiting for us, with an intricate coat of arms on it. Francine nudged me.

The Ewell coat of arms,” she whispered. - Our.

Mr. Council's ugly face showed obvious relief. He carried out the assignment flawlessly.

Francine was excited, but like me, she felt anxious. It was a lot of fun to joke about prison when you're a thousand miles away. But everything looks different when you are only one hour away from being locked up.

A stern coachman was waiting for us.

Mr. Council, sir,” he said, “are these the young ladies?”

Yes, confirmed Mr. Council.

The carriage has been delivered, sir.

He looked around us and his eyes fell on Francine. She was wearing a simple gray coat that her mother had worn, and on her head was a straw hat with a daisy in the center and a bow under the chin. She was dressed very simply, but she was as charming as always. His gaze shifted to me and then quickly returned to Francine.

“Come on in, young ladies,” he said. The horse's hooves clattered along the road, and we rode past iron fences and shady glades. Finally the carriage stopped in front of an iron gate. The gate was immediately opened by a boy who bowed to us, and we drove inside. The stroller stopped in front of the lawn and we got out.

We stood next to each other, my sister and I, holding hands tightly. I felt that Francine was afraid too. We saw it, this house, which our father hated so ardently and called a prison. It was huge and built of gray stone, living up to its name.

There were watchtowers on every corner. I noticed a battlemented wall with loopholes and a high arch through which I could see the backyard. It was very large, and I felt awe mixed with fear.

Francine squeezed my hand tightly, as if gathering courage. We walked together across the lawn to the large door, which was wide open. A woman in a starched cap stood next to her. The coachman had already left through the arch into the backyard, and the woman’s attention was occupied only with us.

The owner is ready to receive you immediately, Mr. Council,” she said.

“Come in,” Mr. Council smiled at us approvingly, and we went inside.

I will never forget the first time I crossed the threshold of this house. I was trembling all over with excitement mixed with fear and curiosity. Home of our ancestors! - I thought. And then - prison.

Oh, those thick stone walls, the coolness we felt when we entered, the grandeur of the huge hall with the vaulted ceiling, the stone floors and walls on which glittered the weapons of the long-dead Ewells - all this delighted me and frightened me at the same time. Our steps echoed loudly in the hall, and I tried to walk quietly. I noticed that Francine raised her head and took on a fighting look, which meant that she was worried, but did not want others to know about it.

The owner told you to go straight to him,” the woman repeated. She was quite plump, and her gray hair was combed back from her forehead and tucked under her cap. She had small eyes and tightly compressed lips. She fit very well into the atmosphere of the house.

This way, please, sir,” she told Mr. Council.

She turned and we followed her up the huge staircase. Francine was still holding my hand. We walked along the gallery and stopped at one of the doors. The woman knocked and a voice said:

We obeyed. What we saw will forever remain in my memory. I barely remember the dark room itself with heavy curtains and large dark furniture, because my grandfather reigned in it. He sat on a chair as if on a throne and looked like a biblical prophet. He was obviously a very large man, his arms folded across his chest. What struck me most was his long, luxurious beard, which ran down his chest and covered the lower part of his face. Next to him sat a middle-aged woman, unremarkable in any way. I guessed it was Aunt Grace. She was small, insignificant and modest, but perhaps it only seemed so in comparison with the majestic figure of her owner.

So, you brought my granddaughters, Mr. Council,” said the grandfather. - Come here.

The last one was directed at us, and Francine walked over, pulling me along with her.

Hmm,” Grandfather looked at us intently, which gave me the feeling that he was looking for some kind of flaw in us. And I was also amazed that he did not pay attention to Francine’s beauty.

I expected him to kiss us or at least shake hands. Instead, he looked at us with great hostility.

“I am your grandfather,” he said, “and this is your home.” I hope you will be worthy of it. Without a doubt, you will have a lot to learn. You have entered a civilized society. And you need to remember this well.

We have always lived in a civilized society,” Francine replied.

There was silence. I saw the woman sitting next to my grandfather shudder.

“I don’t agree with you here,” he said.

Then you are wrong,” Francine continued. I saw that she was very nervous, but my grandfather’s comments hurt my father, and my sister could not stand this. She immediately rebelled against the basic rule of the house - that grandfather is always right. He was so surprised that he didn’t immediately find what to answer.

Finally he said coldly,

You really have a lot to learn. I suspected we would encounter some roughness. Well, we're ready. Now, first of all, we will thank the Creator for your safe arrival and express the hope that those of us who need humility and a sense of gratitude will receive these virtues, and we will follow the righteous path that is the only acceptable one in this house.

We were completely confused. Francine was still indignant, and I became more and more depressed and afraid.

And so we, tired, hungry, embarrassed and scared, knelt on the cold floor in a dark room and thanked God for bringing us to this prison, and begged him for the humility and gratitude that grandfather demanded of us for the help he had given us. we get a cold shoulder.

Aunt Grace took us to our room. Poor Aunt Grace! We always called her poor Aunt Grace among ourselves. It seemed that life had worn her out. She was very thin, and her brown dress brought out the yellowness of her skin. Her hair, which might once have been beautiful, was combed up and pulled into a rather messy bun at the back of her head. She had beautiful eyes. They probably haven't changed. They were brown with fluffy long eyelashes - a little like Francine's eyes, only of a different color, but my sister's eyes were shining, and hers were dull and expressed complete hopelessness. Hopelessness! This word suited Aunt Grace very well.

We followed her up the stairs. She walked silently ahead of us. Francine made a face. It was a nervous grimace. I thought it would be difficult for Francine to charm the inhabitants of this house.

Aunt Grace opened the door and walked into the room, stopping at the door and letting us pass first. We entered. It was a rather nice room, although the dark curtains covering the windows gave it a gloomy look.

“You will be here together,” said Aunt Grace. - Your grandfather decided that there was no point in occupying two rooms.

I was happy. I didn’t want to sleep alone in this creepy house. I remembered Francine saying that everything is never all bad... or all good. There should always be at least a little bit different. And now this thought calmed me.

There were two beds in the room.

“You can choose for yourself who will sleep where,” Aunt Grace said, and Francine later noted that she said it as if she was offering us all the world’s blessings.

Sections: Russian language

Class: 9

Lesson objectives:

To consolidate students' knowledge about complex sentences with attributive clauses;

find subordinate clauses in the IPP;

make (where possible and necessary) their synonymous replacement;

to use correctly in speech;

develop students' punctuation awareness.

I. Report the topic of the lesson.

II. Goal setting.

III. Vocabulary work. (Children pronounce words orally, memorize them and write them from memory.)

Athletics, health, stadium, Universe, astronaut, continent, result, civilization, navigate, applaud.

Make up phrases with vocabulary words (in rows)

I row - communication coordination

II row-communication control

III row-connection adjacency

Using phrases with the connection agreement, compose verbally an IPP with attributive clauses.

IV. Work on the topic of the lesson.

1. Tell us what you know about relative clauses. (Repetition of theoretical material)

2. Editing text. Text on each table. (Work in pairs).

Assignment: Read. Are the sentences constructed correctly? Correct by replacing one of the clauses with a separate definition.

1. We drove into the village, which was located in a ravine that began immediately behind the forest. 2. The trees near which we were located stood alone in the middle of an open field, which was sown with rye and buckwheat. 3. There was a bouquet of roses on the table, the aroma of which filled the room, which had a festive look.

Define , what part of the sentence is the word which.

Is it possible to replace subordinate clauses with separate definitions? Is it always advisable? (Caused by the need to avoid monotony of construction in the text)

A.S. Pushkin wrote:<<Причастия обыкновенно избегаются в разговоре. Мы не говорим: карета, скачущая по мосту, слуга, метущий комнату, мы говорим: которая скачет по мосту, который метет и пр., - заменяя краткость причастия вялым оборотом>>

3. Text analysis (attached on the tables).

Finally, the carriage stopped at a high gate decorated on both sides with the heads of lions from whose mouths streams of cold water flowed. To the right and left of the gate stretched a wall painted pink, behind which one could see the dense greenery of the garden. It set off pink clay vases with cacti and marble busts, blackened by time, placed along the wall. This was the entrance to an ancient estate which was now in charge of an old caretaker. (According to Maykov.)

1) Read the text.
2) Place punctuation marks.
3) Prove that it is part of a larger text.
4) Indicate the means of communication of sentences in the text.
5) Determine the type of speech.
6) Which style is indicated by a large number of participial phrases?

4. Schematic dictation. (Two students at the blackboard. One draws diagrams, the other determines the type of sentence.)

1. The sun had long since set, and a solid gray shadow lay over the whole earth. 2. Morozka lowered the bag and, cowardly, burying his head in his shoulders, ran to the horse. 3. The birches that were planted near the fence when I was there have grown and are now tall. 4. The forest is being cut down - the chips are flying.

Conclusion: punctuation marks in a complex sentence.

5. Work in groups. (Tasks are attached.)

Group I. Tasks:

2) Indicate the IPP with attributive clauses.
3) How are subordinate clauses attached to main clauses?
4) State the main idea of the passage.

Forests are gigantic laboratories that produce oxygen and trap toxic gases and dust. Anyone who has had to breathe the sun-warmed air of pine forests will certainly remember the amazing state of unaccountable joy and strength that engulfs us as soon as we enter the forests from stuffy city houses.

Places where the forest has been destroyed are subject to severe erosion from low waters and rains. A fairly thin layer of fertile soil is often washed away and rivers carry it out to sea. And what the rains spared is then blown away by the wind.

It is impossible to list all the disasters that the destruction of forests brings. In those places where forests have been destroyed, the land becomes sick with infertility and dry ulcers of ravines.

(According to K. Paustovsky.)

Group II. Tasks:

1) Place punctuation marks.
2) Perform a punctuation analysis of the IPP with a subordinate clause.
3) Determine the main idea of the text.

Love for the Motherland is impossible without love for the native word. Only he who values his native word can comprehend with his heart and mind the beauty and greatness of the Motherland.

A person who does not like the language of his mother, to whom his native word does not say anything, is a person without clan and tribe. (V. Sukhomlinsky.)

III group. Tasks: 1) Using subordinate modifiers or isolated participial phrases, give definitions of consonant sounds; endings; noun; name sentences.

IV group. Tasks: 1) Find punctuation errors and explain their reason.

I had sawing tools with which I made a beautiful frame. I did not learn the rule on the basis of which the problem was solved. We went on a tour during which I learned a lot.

2) Place punctuation marks in<< отрезках >> proposals.

... a vessel whose lid...
... a plastic shell whose purpose is ...
...a high fence along which...
... large houses in the lower floors of which...

V. Lesson summary.

Are you satisfied with your work in class?

What do I know well?

What could (could) have been done better?

What else remains unclear?

VI. Homework. Select 10 SPPs with subordinate modifiers from literary texts or exercise No. 473 from the textbook.

The arrival of the guest woke up the little dogs, shining in the sun: shaggy Adele, constantly getting tangled in her own fur, and the male Popuri on thin legs. Both of them, barking, carried their tails in rings into the hallway, where the guest freed herself from her tuft and found herself in a dress of a fashionable pattern and color and long tails around her neck; jasmines flew throughout the room. As soon as the otherwise pleasant lady found out about the arrival of a simply pleasant lady, she already ran into the hallway. The ladies grabbed hands, kissed and screamed, as college girls scream when they meet soon after graduation, when their mothers have not yet had time to explain to them that one’s father is poorer and of lower rank than the other’s. The kiss took place loudly, because the dogs began to bark again, for which they were slapped with a handkerchief, and both ladies went into the living room, blue, of course, with a sofa, an oval table and even screens entwined with ivy; after them ran, grumbling, shaggy Adele and tall Popuri on thin legs. “Here, here, in this corner! - the hostess said, seating the guest in the corner of the sofa. - Like this! like this! here’s your pillow!” Having said this, she pushed a pillow behind her back, on which a knight was embroidered with wool in the same way as they are always embroidered on canvas: the nose came out like a ladder, and the lips like a quadrangle. “I’m so glad that you... I hear someone driving up, but I think to myself who could do it so early. Parasha says: “vice-governor,” and I say: “well, the fool has come to bother me again,” and I really wanted to say that I’m not at home...”

The guest was about to get down to business and break the news. But the exclamation that the lady, pleasant in all respects, uttered at that time, suddenly gave a different direction to the conversation.

What a cheerful chintz! - exclaimed a pleasant lady in all respects, looking at the dress of a simply pleasant lady.

Yes, very funny. Praskovya Fedorovna, however, finds that it would be better if the cells were smaller, and that the specks were not brown, but blue. They sent her sister a piece of cloth: it is such a charm that simply cannot be expressed in words; Imagine: the stripes are as narrow as the human imagination can imagine, the background is blue and through the stripes all the eyes and paws, eyes and paws, eyes and paws... In a word, incomparable! We can say decisively that there has never been anything like it in the world...

Well, what about our charmer? - Meanwhile, the lady, pleasant in all respects, said.

Oh my god! Why am I sitting like this in front of you! that's good! After all, you know, Anna Grigorievna, what I came to you with? - Here the guest’s breath choked, the words, like hawks, were ready to set off in pursuit one after another, and only one had to be as inhuman as a sincere friend was in order to decide to stop her.

No matter how you praise and extol him,” she said with more vivacity than usual, “but I will tell him straight, and I will tell him to his face that he is a worthless person, worthless, worthless, worthless.

Just listen to what I will reveal to you...

They spread rumors that he was good, but he is not good at all, not good at all, and he has a nose... the most unpleasant nose.

Let me, let me just tell you... darling, Anna Grigorievna, let me tell you! After all, this is history, you understand: history, sconapelle istoar,” said the guest with an expression of almost despair and a completely pleading voice...

What's the story?

Oh, my life, Anna Grigorievna, if you could only imagine the situation in which I was, imagine: the archpriest comes to me today - the archpriest, Kirila’s father’s wife - and what would you think: our humble one, a newcomer ours, what is it like?

How, did he really build chickens like his predecessor?

Ah, Anna Grigorievna, even if there were only chickens, that would be nothing; Just listen to what the archpriest told: the landowner Korobochka came to her, she says, frightened and pale as death, and she tells, and as she tells, just listen, a perfect romance: suddenly, in the dead of midnight, when everyone was already asleep in the house, there is a sound at the gate a knock, the most dangerous one imaginable; They shout: “Open, open, otherwise the gate will be broken down!” How will it feel to you? What is the charmer like after this?

But Korobochka, isn’t she young and pretty?

Not at all, old woman.

Oh, the delights! So he set to work on the old woman. Well, the taste of our ladies is good after that, they found someone to fall in love with.

But no, Anna Grigorievna, it’s not at all what you think. Just imagine something like Rinald Rinaldin, armed from head to toe, and demanding: “Sell,” he says, “all the souls that have died.” The box answers very reasonably, saying: “I can’t sell them because they are dead.” - “No, he says, they are not dead, it is my business, he says, to know whether they are dead or not, they are not dead, not dead, he shouts, not dead.” In a word, he created a terrible scandal: the whole village came running, the children were crying, everyone was screaming, no one understood anyone, well, just orrer, orrer, orrer!.. But you can’t imagine, Anna Grigorievna, how alarmed I was when I heard all this. “My dear lady,” Mashka tells me, “look in the mirror: you are pale.” - “There’s no time for the mirror, I say, I have to go tell Anna Grigorievna.” At that very moment I order the carriage to be laid: the coachman Andryushka asks me where to go, but I can’t say anything, I just look into his eyes like a fool; I think he thought I was crazy. Oh, Anna Grigorievna, if you could only imagine how worried I was!

“This, however, is strange,” said the pleasant lady in all respects, “what could these dead souls mean?” I admit, I understand absolutely nothing here. This is the second time I’ve heard everything about these dead souls; and my husband still says that Nozdryov is lying; Surely there is something...

The lady, pleasant in all respects, had her own thoughts about dead souls. In her opinion, dead souls are just a cover, and the whole point is that Chichikov wants to take away the governor’s daughter. Hearing this conclusion, the pleasant lady turned deathly pale and admitted that she could not even imagine such a thing.

“I cannot, however, understand,” said the simply pleasant lady, “how Chichikov, being a visiting person, could decide on such a brave passage. It cannot be that there are no participants here.

Do you think there are none?

Who do you think could help him?

Well, at least Nozdryov.

Is it really Nozdryov?

So what? after all, he will be on it. You know, he wanted to sell his own father or, even better, lose him at cards.

Oh, my God, what interesting news I learn from you! I could never imagine that Nozdryov would be involved in this story!

And I always assumed.

Just think, really, what doesn’t happen in the world! Well, was it possible to imagine when, remember, Chichikov had just arrived in our city, that he would make such a strange march in the world? Oh, Anna Grigorievna, if you only knew how worried I was! If it weren’t for your benevolence and friendship... now, for sure, I’m on the brink of death... where would I go? My Masha sees that I am pale as death. “Dear lady,” she tells me, “you are as pale as death.” - “Masha, I say, I have no time for that now.” So this is the case! So Nozdryov is here, I humbly ask!

The pleasant lady really wanted to find out further details about the abduction, that is, what time it was, etc., but she wanted a lot. In all respects, a pleasant lady directly responded with ignorance...

When the ladies were discussing the details of what had happened, the prosecutor entered the living room “with his eternally motionless face.” The ladies immediately began to tell him the latest news: about the purchase of dead souls, about Chichikov’s intention to take away the governor’s daughter. But the prosecutor could not understand anything, and continued to stand in one place, sweeping tobacco from his beard with a handkerchief and batting his left eye. “The two ladies left him there and each went in their own direction to riot the city,” and for this it took them about half an hour. Everything in the city “went into ferment,” although no one could understand anything. The ladies managed to “create such a fog” that all the officials were stunned - “the dead souls, the governor’s daughter and Chichikov got confused and mixed up in their heads in an unusually strange way,” and only after some time they began to separate one from the other and try at least something figure it out, and were angry because no one could really explain anything to them.

What kind of parable, really, what kind of parable are these dead souls? There is no logic in dead souls; how to buy dead souls? where would such a fool come from? and with what blind money will he buy them? and to what end, to what cause can these dead souls be pinned? and why did the governor’s daughter interfere here? If he wanted to take her away, then why buy dead souls for this? If you buy dead souls, then why take away the governor’s daughter? Did he want to give her these dead souls? What kind of nonsense was really being spread around the city? What kind of direction is this that you won’t have time to turn around, and then they’ll release the story, and at least there would be some meaning... However, they tore it apart, so there must have been some reason? What is the reason for dead souls? There's not even a reason. It turns out it’s simple: Androns are driving, nonsense, rubbish, soft-boiled boots! it's just damn it!.. In a word, there was talk and talk, and the whole city started talking about dead souls and the governor's daughter, about Chichikov and dead souls, about the governor's daughter and Chichikov, and everything that was there rose up. Like a whirlwind, the hitherto dormant city was thrown up! All the tyuryuks and boibaks, who had been lying in their dressing gowns for several years at home, crawled out of their holes, blaming either the shoemaker who sewed the narrow boots, or the tailor, or the drunken coachman. All those who had long ago ceased all acquaintances and knew only, as they say, the landowners Zavalishin and Polezhaev (famous terms derived from the verbs “lie down” and “fall over”, which are in great use in our Rus', just like the phrase: go to Sopikov and Khrapovitsky, meaning all sorts of dead dreams on the side, on the back and in all other positions, with snoring, nasal whistles and other accessories); all those who could not be lured out of the house even by an invitation for a five-hundred-ruble fish soup with two-arshine sterlets and all sorts of melt-in-your-mouth kulebyaks; in a word, it turned out that the city was crowded, and large, and properly populated. Some Sysoy Pafnutievich and McDonald Karlovich appeared, whom we had never heard of before; Sticking around in the living rooms was a long, long man with a bullet through his arm, so tall the likes of which had never even been seen. Covered droshky, unknown rulers, rattlers, wheel whistles appeared on the streets - and a mess started brewing.

In the bustle of the city, two completely opposite opinions emerged and two parties were formed: male and female. The men's party discussed dead souls, the women's party discussed the abduction of the governor's daughter. The pretty blonde had a serious conversation with her mother, after which many interrogations, reproaches and threats followed. The governor's wife ordered not to accept Chichikov under any circumstances. As for the men, some suggested that Chichikov was sent for inspection and the words “dead souls” meant patients who died in significant numbers from epidemic fever. At this time, an event occurred in the province that always puts officials in an alarming state - a new governor-general had just been appointed. Therefore, everyone, remembering their sins, saw what happened as a threat to themselves.

“As if on purpose, at a time when gentlemen officials were already in a difficult situation, two papers came to the governor at once”: one about a counterfeiter hiding under different names, and the other about an escaped robber. These papers confused everyone. And although they could not be directly connected with Chichikov, all the officials noticed that they did not know who he really was. They questioned those who sold him dead souls, but things didn’t become any clearer. They also learned a little from Petrushka and Selifan - that they served in the civil service and at customs. And to clarify the matter, they decided to meet with the police chief.

At ten o'clock on a dark September evening, the zemstvo doctor Kirilov's only son, six-year-old Andrei, died of diphtheria. When the doctor knelt down in front of the bed of the deceased child and was overcome by the first attack of despair, a bell rang sharply in the hallway.
Due to diphtheria, all the servants were sent out of the house in the morning. Kirilov, as he was, without a frock coat, in an unbuttoned vest, without wiping his wet face and hands, burned with carbolic acid, went to open the door himself. It was dark in the hall, and in the man who entered one could only distinguish between average height, a white muffler and a large, extremely pale face, so pale that it seemed that the appearance of this face in the hall became brighter...
- Is the doctor at home? - the newcomer quickly asked.
“I’m at home,” Kirilov answered. - What do you want?
- Oh, is that you? I am glad! - the man who entered was delighted and began to look for the doctor’s hand in the darkness, found it and squeezed it tightly in his hands. - Very... very glad! We know each other!.. I am Abogin... I had the pleasure of seeing you at Gnuchev’s in the summer. I’m very glad that I found you... For God’s sake, don’t refuse to go with me now... My wife is dangerously ill... And the crew is with me...
It was clear from the voice and movements of the newcomer that he was in a highly excited state. As if frightened by a fire or a mad dog, he could hardly restrain his rapid breathing and spoke quickly, in a trembling voice, and something genuinely sincere, childishly cowardly sounded in his speech. Like everyone who is frightened and stunned, he spoke in short, abrupt phrases and uttered many unnecessary words that were not at all relevant to the point.
“I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you,” he continued. - While I was driving to you, my soul was tormented... Get dressed and go, for God's sake... It happened this way. Papchinsky, Alexander Semenovich, whom you know, comes to me... We talked... then we sat down to drink tea; suddenly the wife screams, grabs her heart and falls back in her chair. We carried her to the bed and... I already rubbed her temples with ammonia and sprinkled water... she lies as if dead... I'm afraid it's an aneurysm... Let's go... Her father died of an aneurysm ...
Kirilov listened and was silent, as if he did not understand Russian speech.
When Abogin once again mentioned Papchinsky and his wife’s father and once again began to search for his hand in the darkness, the doctor shook his head and said, apathetically drawing out each word:
- Sorry, I can’t go... About five minutes ago, my son... died...
- Really? - Abogin whispered, taking a step back. - My God, what an evil hour I have found myself in! Amazingly miserable day... amazing! What a coincidence... and how on purpose!
Abogin took hold of the door handle and hung his head in thought. He apparently hesitated and did not know what to do: leave or continue to ask the doctor.
“Listen,” he said hotly, grabbing Kirilov by the sleeve, “I understand your situation perfectly well!” God knows, I’m ashamed that at such moments I’m trying to capture your attention, but what should I do? Judge for yourself, who will I go to? After all, besides you, there is no other doctor here. Let's go for God's sake! I'm not asking for myself... It's not me who is sick!
There was silence. Kirilov turned his back to Abogin, stood and slowly walked out of the hallway into the hall. Judging by his unsteady, mechanical gait, by the attention with which he straightened the shaggy lampshade on the unlit lamp in the hall and looked into the thick book lying on the table, at those moments he had neither intentions, nor desires, nor was he talking about anything. did not think and probably no longer remembered that a stranger was standing in his hallway. The twilight and silence of the hall apparently increased his stupor. Walking from the hall to his office, he raised his right leg higher than he should, looked for the door frames with his hands, and at this time some kind of bewilderment was felt throughout his whole figure, as if he had ended up in someone else’s apartment or had gotten drunk for the first time in his life and now he gave himself over to his new sensation with bewilderment. Along one wall of the office, through the cabinets with books, stretched a wide strip of light; together with the heavy, stale smell of carbolic acid and ether, this light came from the slightly open door leading from the office to the bedroom... The doctor sank into a chair in front of the table; He looked drowsily at his illuminated books for a minute, then got up and went to the bedroom.
Here in the bedroom there was dead peace. Everything down to the last detail spoke eloquently of the storm recently experienced, of fatigue, and everything was resting. A candle standing on a stool in a crowd of glass, boxes and jars, and a large lamp on the chest of drawers brightly illuminated the whole room. On the bed, right next to the window, lay a boy with open eyes and a surprised expression on his face. He did not move, his open eyes seemed to become darker and darker with every moment and went inside his skull. With her hands on his torso and her face hidden in the folds of the bed, his mother knelt in front of the bed. Like a boy, she did not move, but how much living movement was felt in the bends of her body and in her hands! She fell to the bed with all her being, with strength and greed, as if she was afraid to disturb the calm and comfortable position that she had finally found for her tired body. Blankets, rags, basins, puddles on the floor, brushes and spoons scattered everywhere, a white bottle of lime water, the air itself, suffocating and heavy - everything froze and seemed immersed in peace.
The doctor stopped near his wife, put his hands in his trouser pockets and, tilting his head to the side, fixed his gaze on his son. His face expressed indifference, only from the dewdrops glistening on his beard, and it was noticeable that he had recently cried.
That repulsive horror that people think of when they talk about death was absent from the bedroom. In the general tetanus, in the mother’s pose, in the indifference of the doctor’s face, there was something attractive, touching the heart, precisely that subtle, barely perceptible beauty of human grief, which will not soon be learned to understand and describe and which, it seems, only music can convey. Beauty was felt even in the gloomy silence; Kirilov and his wife were silent, did not cry, as if, in addition to the severity of the loss, they were also aware of the whole lyricism of their situation: just as once, in their time, their youth had passed, so now, together with this boy, it was passing forever into eternity and their right to have children! The doctor is 44 years old, he is already gray and looks like an old man; his faded and sick wife is 35 years old. Andrey was not only the only one, but also the last.
In contrast to his wife, the doctor was one of those natures who, during times of mental pain, feel the need to move. After standing near his wife for about five minutes, he, raising his right leg high, walked from the bedroom into a small room, half occupied by a large, wide sofa; From here I went into the kitchen. After wandering around the stove and the cook's bed, he bent down and went out through the small door into the hallway.
Then he again saw a white muffler and a pale face.
- Finally! - Abogin sighed, taking hold of the door handle. - Let's go, please!
The doctor shuddered, looked at him and remembered...
- Listen, I already told you that I can’t go! - he said, perking up. - How strange!
- Doctor, I’m not an idol, I understand your situation perfectly... I sympathize with you! - Abogin said in a pleading voice, putting his hand to his muffler. - But I’m not asking for myself... My wife is dying! If you heard this cry, saw her face, you would understand my persistence! My God, I thought you had gone to get dressed! Doctor, time is precious! Let's go, please!
- I can’t go! - Kirilov said with emphasis and stepped into the hall.
Abogin followed him and grabbed him by the sleeve.
“You’re in grief, I understand, but I’m not inviting you to treat teeth, not to become an expert, but to save human life!” - he continued to beg like a beggar. - This life is above any personal grief! Well, I ask for courage, feat! In the name of humanity!
- Philanthropy is a double-edged sword! - Kirilov said irritably. - In the name of the same love for humanity, I ask you not to take me away. And how strange, by God! I can barely stand on my feet, and you frighten me with your love for humanity! I’m not fit to go anywhere now... I won’t go for anything, and who am I going to leave my wife for? No no...
Kirilov waved his hands and stepped back.
- And... and don’t ask! - he continued fearfully. - Excuse me... According to Volume XIII of the laws, I am obliged to go, and you have the right to drag me by the collar... If you please, drag me, but... I’m not fit... I’m not even able to speak... Sorry.. .
- It’s in vain, doctor, you talk to me in such a loud voice! - said Abogin, again taking the doctor by the sleeve. - God bless him, happy volume XIII! I have no right to force your will. If you want, go, if you don’t want, God be with you, but I’m not appealing to your will, but to your feeling. A young woman is dying! Now, you say, your son has died, who, if not you, can understand my horror?
Abogin's voice trembled with excitement; there was much more conviction in this trembling and tone than in the words. Abogin was sincere, but it’s remarkable that no matter what phrases he said, they all came out stilted, soulless, inappropriately flowery and seemed to even insult both the air of the doctor’s apartment and a woman dying somewhere. He himself felt this, and therefore, fearing to be misunderstood, he tried his best to give his voice softness and tenderness, so as to capture, if not in words, then at least the sincerity of the tone. In general, a phrase, no matter how beautiful and deep it may be, affects only the indifferent, but cannot always satisfy those who are happy or unhappy; That is why the highest expression of happiness or unhappiness is most often silence; lovers understand each other better when they are silent, and a hot, passionate speech spoken at the grave touches only strangers, but to the widow and children of the deceased it seems cold and insignificant.
Kirilov stood and was silent. When Abogin said a few more phrases about the high calling of a doctor, about self-sacrifice, etc., the doctor asked gloomily:
- Go far away?
- Something about 13-14 versts. I have great horses, Doctor! I give you my word of honor that I will get you there and back in one hour. Only one hour!
The last words had a stronger effect on the doctor than references to humanity or the calling of a doctor. He thought and said with a sigh:
- Okay, let's go!
He quickly, with a confident gait, went to his office and a little later returned in a long frock coat. Mincing finely next to him and shuffling his feet, the delighted Abogin helped him put on his coat and left the house with him.
It was dark outside, but lighter than in the hallway. In the darkness, the tall, stooped figure of a doctor with a long, narrow beard and an aquiline nose was already clearly visible. Abogin, in addition to his pale face, was now visible with his large head and a small student cap that barely covered the crown of his head. The muffler was white only in front, but behind it was hidden behind long hair.
“Believe me, I will be able to appreciate your generosity,” muttered Abogin, lifting the doctor into the wheelchair. - We'll get home quickly. You, Luka, my dear, go as soon as possible! Please!
The coachman was driving fast. At first there was a row of nondescript buildings standing along the hospital yard; It was dark everywhere, only in the depths of the courtyard from someone’s window, through the front garden, a bright light was breaking through, and the three windows of the upper floor of the hospital building seemed paler than air. Then the carriage drove into the thick darkness; there was a smell of mushroom dampness and the whispering of the trees was heard; the crows, awakened by the noise of the wheels, scurried about in the foliage and raised an alarming, plaintive cry, as if they knew that the doctor’s son had died and Abogin’s wife was sick. But then individual trees and bushes flashed; the pond sparkled gloomily, on which large black shadows slept, and the carriage rolled along the smooth plain. The cry of the crows could already be heard muffledly, far behind, and soon fell completely silent.
Kirilov and Abogin were silent almost the entire way. Only once Abogin took a deep breath and muttered:
- A painful condition! You never love your loved ones more than when you risk losing them.
And when the carriage was quietly crossing the river, Kirilov suddenly started up, as if the splash of water had frightened him, and began to move.
“Listen, let me go,” he said sadly. - I’ll come to you later. I just wish I could send a paramedic to my wife. After all, she is alone!
Abogin was silent. The stroller, swaying and knocking on the stones, passed the sandy shore and rolled on. Kirilov tossed about in anguish and looked around him. Behind, through the meager light of the stars, the road and the coastal willows disappearing in the darkness were visible. To the right lay a plain, as level and boundless as the sky; Far away on it, here and there, probably in the peat bogs, dim lights burned. To the left, parallel to the road, stretched a hill, curly with small bushes, and above the hill a large crescent moon stood motionless, red, slightly shrouded in fog and surrounded by small clouds, which seemed to be looking at it from all sides and guarding it so that it would not leave.
There was something hopeless and sick in all of nature; the earth, like a fallen woman who sits alone in a dark room and tries not to think about the past, languished with memories of spring and summer and apathetically awaited the inevitable winter. Everywhere you looked, nature seemed like a dark, infinitely deep and cold pit, from which neither Kirilov, nor Abogin, nor the red crescent could escape...
The closer to the goal the carriage was, the more impatient Abogin became. He moved, jumped up, peered ahead over the coachman's shoulder. And when, finally, the carriage stopped at the porch, beautifully draped with striped canvas, and when he looked at the illuminated windows of the second floor, you could hear how his breathing trembled.
“If something happens, then... I won’t survive,” he said, entering the hallway with the doctor and rubbing his hands in excitement. “But you can’t hear any commotion, which means it’s still safe,” he added, listening to the silence.
There were no voices or footsteps in the hall, and the whole house seemed asleep, despite the bright lighting. Now the doctor and Abogin, who had been in the dark until now, could see each other. The doctor was tall, stooped, dressed sloppily and had an ugly face. Something unpleasantly harsh, unkind and stern was expressed by his thick lips, like a black man’s, his aquiline nose and his sluggish, indifferent gaze. His unkempt head, sunken temples, premature gray hairs on his long, narrow beard, through which his chin showed through, pale gray skin color and careless, angular manners - all this, with its callousness, suggested the thought of experienced poverty, lack of contentment, and weariness with life and people. Looking at his entire dry figure, it was impossible to believe that this man had a wife so that he could cry about a child. Abogin pretended to be something else. It was tight; a respectable blond man, with a large head and large but soft features, dressed elegantly, in the latest fashion. In his posture, in his tightly buttoned frock coat, in his mane and face, there was something noble, leonine; he walked with his head straight and his chest thrust forward, he spoke in a pleasant baritone, and the manner with which he took off his muffler or straightened the hair on his head showed a subtle, almost feminine grace. Even the pallor and childish fear with which he looked up the stairs as he undressed did not spoil his posture and did not detract from the satiety, health and aplomb that his whole figure exuded.
“There’s no one and you can’t hear anything,” he said, walking up the stairs. - There is no fuss. God forbid!
He led the doctor through the hallway into a large hall, where there was a dark piano and a chandelier in a white case; From here they both went into a small, very cozy and beautiful living room, full of pleasant pink twilight.
“Well, sit here, doctor,” said Abogin, “and I... now.” I'll go take a look and let you know.
Kirilov was left alone. The luxury of the living room, the pleasant twilight and his very presence in a strange, unfamiliar house, which had the character of an adventure, apparently did not touch him. He sat in a chair and looked at his hands, burnt by carbolic acid. He only caught a glimpse of a bright red lampshade, a cello case, and, glancing sideways in the direction where the clock was ticking, he noticed a stuffed wolf, as respectable and well-fed as Abogin himself.
It was quiet... Somewhere far away in the neighboring rooms, someone loudly said “ah”!, a glass door, probably a closet, rang, and again everything was quiet. After waiting about five minutes, Kirilov stopped looking at his hands and looked up at the door behind which Abogin had disappeared.
At the threshold of this door stood Abogin, but not the one who came out. The expression of satiety and subtle grace disappeared on him, his face, hands, and posture were distorted by a disgusting expression of either horror or excruciating physical pain. His nose, lips, mustache, all his features moved and seemed to be trying to tear themselves away from his face, while his eyes seemed to laugh from pain...
Abogin took a heavy and wide step into the middle of the living room, bent over, groaned and shook his fists.
- I deceived you! - he shouted, pressing hard on the syllable well. - I deceived you! Gone! She got sick and sent me to the doctor just to run away with that buffoon Papchinsky! My God!
Abogin took a heavy step towards the doctor, extended his white soft fists to his face and, shaking them, continued to scream:
- Gone!! I deceived you! Well, why this lie?! My God! My God! Why this dirty, cheating trick, this devilish, snake game? What did I do to her? Gone!
Tears flowed from his eyes. He turned over on one leg and walked across the living room. Now in his short frock coat, in fashionable tight trousers, in which his legs seemed thin beyond his body, with his large head and mane, he looked extremely like a lion. The doctor's indifferent face lit up with curiosity. He stood up and looked at Abogin.
- Excuse me, where is the patient? - he asked.
- Sick! Sick! - Abogin shouted, laughing, crying and still shaking his fists. - This is not a sick woman, but a cursed one! Meanness! Meanness, the nastiest things could not have been invented, it seems, by Satan himself! She sent me away then to run, to run with the jester, the stupid clown, the gigolo! Oh God, it would be better if she died! I can't stand it! I can't stand it!
The doctor straightened up. His eyes began to blink and filled with tears, and his thin beard moved left and right along with his jaw.
- Excuse me, how is this? - he asked, looking around curiously. - My child died, my wife is in anguish, she’s alone in the whole house... I myself can barely stand on my feet, I haven’t slept for three nights... so what? They force me to act in some vulgar comedy, to play the role of a prop! No... I don't understand!
Abogin unclenched one fist, threw the crumpled note on the floor and stepped on it like an insect that you want to crush.
- And I didn’t see... I didn’t understand! - he said through clenched teeth, shaking one fist near his face and with such an expression as if he had been stepped on a callus. - I didn’t notice that he travels every day, I didn’t notice that he arrived in a carriage today! Why in the carriage? And I didn't see it! Cap!
- No... I don’t understand! - the doctor muttered. - After all, what is this! After all, this is a mockery of personality, a mockery of human suffering! This is something impossible... I see it for the first time in my life!
With the dull surprise of a man who had just begun to realize that he had been seriously insulted, the doctor shrugged his shoulders, spread his arms and, not knowing what to say or what to do, sank exhausted into a chair.
- Well, I fell out of love, fell in love with someone else - God bless you, but why the deception, why this vile, treacherous trick? - Abogin said in a crying voice. - For what? And for what? What did I do to you? Listen, doctor,” he said hotly, approaching Kirilov. “You were an involuntary witness to my misfortune, and I will not hide the truth from you.” I swear to you that I loved this woman, I loved him religiously, like a slave! For her, I sacrificed everything: I quarreled with my relatives, gave up work and music, forgave her what I could not forgive my mother or sister... I never looked askance at her... I didn’t give any reason! What is this lie for? I don't demand love, but why this vile deception? If you don’t love me, then tell me directly, honestly, especially since you know my views on this matter...
With tears in his eyes, trembling all over, Abogin sincerely poured out his soul to the doctor. He spoke warmly, pressing both hands to his heart, exposed his family secrets without the slightest hesitation and seemed even glad that at last these secrets had burst out of his chest. If he had talked like this for an hour or two, poured out his soul, and, undoubtedly, he would have felt better. Who knows, if the doctor had listened to him, sympathized with him in a friendly manner, perhaps, as often happens, he would have come to terms with his grief without protest, without doing unnecessary stupid things... But it happened differently. While Abogin spoke, the offended doctor noticeably changed. The indifference and surprise on his face little by little gave way to an expression of bitter resentment, indignation and anger. His facial features became even sharper, callous and unpleasant. When Abogin brought to his eyes the card of a young woman with a beautiful, but dry and expressionless face, like a nun’s, and asked whether, looking at this face, one could assume that it was capable of expressing a lie, the doctor suddenly jumped up, flashed his eyes and said, Roughly minting each word:
- Why are you telling me all this? I don't want to listen! I don't want to! - he shouted and slammed his fist on the table. “I don’t need your vulgar secrets, damn them!” Don't you dare tell me these vulgarities! Or do you think I haven't been insulted enough yet? That I am a lackey who can be insulted to the end? Yes?
Abogin backed away from Kirilov and stared at him in amazement.
- Why did you bring me here? - continued the doctor, shaking his beard. - If you get married with fat, get mad and act out melodramas, then what have I got to do with it? What do I have in common with your novels? Leave me alone! Practice noble kulaks, show off your humane ideas, play (the doctor glanced sideways at the cello case) - play the double basses and trombones, get fat like capons, but don’t dare mock the individual! If you don’t know how to respect her, then at least spare her from your attention!
- Excuse me, what does this all mean? - asked Abogin, blushing.
- And that means that it’s low and mean to play like that with people! I am a doctor, you consider doctors and workers in general, who do not smell of perfume and prostitution, as your lackeys and bad manners 1, well, consider it, but no one gave you the right to make a sham out of a person who is suffering!
- How dare you tell me this? - Abogin asked quietly, and his face jumped again and this time it was already clear with anger.
- No, how did you, knowing that I was in grief, dare to bring me here to listen to vulgarities? - the doctor shouted and again slammed his fist on the table. -Who gave you the right to mock someone else’s grief like that?
-Are you crazy? - Abogin shouted. - Not generous! I myself am deeply unhappy and... and...
“Unhappy,” the doctor grinned contemptuously. - Don’t touch this word, it doesn’t concern you. Rogues who cannot find money for a bill also call themselves unhappy. A capon that is weighed down by excess fat is also unhappy. Insignificant people!
- Dear Sir, you are forgetting yourself! - Abogin squealed. - For such words... they beat you! Do you understand?
Abogin hurriedly reached into his side pocket, pulled out his wallet and, taking out two pieces of paper, threw them on the table.
- Here's to you for your visit! - he said, wiggling his nostrils. - You've been paid!
- Don't you dare offer me money! - the doctor shouted and swept the pieces of paper off the table onto the floor. - They don’t pay for insulting with money!
Abogin and the doctor stood face to face and in anger continued to inflict undeserved insults on each other. It seems that never in their lives, even in their delirium, have they said so many unfair, cruel and absurd things. In both, the selfishness of the unfortunates was strongly reflected. The unfortunate are selfish, evil, unjust, cruel and less able to understand each other than fools. Misfortune does not unite, but separates people, and even where, it would seem, people should be united by the homogeneity of grief, much more injustices and cruelties are committed than in a relatively happy environment.
- Please send me home! - the doctor shouted, gasping for breath.
Abogin called sharply. When no one came to his call, he rang again and angrily threw the bell on the floor; he thuddedly hit the carpet and let out a plaintive, like a dying groan. The footman appeared.
- Where the hell did you hide?! - the owner attacked him, clenching his fists. - Where were you now? Go, tell this gentleman to give him a carriage, and tell him to lay the carriage for me! Wait! - he shouted when the footman turned to leave. - Tomorrow so that not a single traitor remains in the house! Everyone out! Hiring new ones! Reptiles!
While waiting for the carriages, Abogin and the doctor were silent. The expression of satiety and subtle grace have already returned to the first. He walked around the living room, gracefully shook his head and was obviously planning something. His anger had not yet cooled, but he tried to show that he did not notice his enemy... The doctor stood, held one hand on the edge of the table and looked at Abogin with that deep, somewhat cynical and ugly contempt with which only grief can look and lack of contentment, when they see satiety and grace in front of them.
When a little later the doctor got into the carriage and drove off, his eyes still continued to look contemptuously. It was dark, much darker than an hour ago. The red crescent had already gone behind the hill, and the clouds guarding it lay like dark spots near the stars. A carriage with red lights clattered down the road and overtook the doctor. It was Abogin who was coming to protest, to do stupid things...
All the way the doctor thought not about his wife, not about Andrei, but about Abogin and the people who lived in the house he had just left. His thoughts were unfair and inhumanly cruel. He condemned Abogin, and his wife, and Papchinsky, and everyone living in the pink twilight and smelling of perfume, and all the way he hated them and despised them until his heart hurt. And a strong conviction formed in his mind about these people.
Time will pass, and Kirilov’s grief will pass, but this conviction, unfair, unworthy of the human heart, will not pass and will remain in the doctor’s mind until his grave.