Essay on the topic: Jargon and argot as speech of limited use
Jargon should be understood as such vocabulary, specifically limited in use, which is an emotionally expressive expression of stylistically neutral words. Jargon is the speech of people who make up separate groups who are united by a common profession. Jargons do not represent a complete system. The specificity of jargons lies in their vocabulary. Many words in them have a special meaning and sometimes differ in form from commonly used words.
Professional jargons are used by people of the same profession, mainly when communicating in production themes. In pilots' jargon, the bottom of an airplane's fuselage is called the belly, the figures aerobatics- barrel, slide, loop. In the speech of doctors, for example, the words brilliant green, castor oil, and injections are slang.
Social jargon is the speech of a socially isolated group of people. Often the emergence of social jargon is dictated by the needs of the functioning and livelihoods of a social group. An example is the argot ofen that existed in pre-revolutionary Russia. Ofenya is a wandering merchant of small goods, a peddler. It happened that peddlers were attacked, money and goods were taken from them, so they were forced to hide their intentions and actions from outsiders. They were helped in this by a specially developed “language” that was incomprehensible to others. Some elements of the beggar, thief and Ofen jargons have been preserved in our time, and some words have become commonly used, having lost their slang connotation and undergone semantic changes: double-dealer (beggars called that one who collected alms with both hands), linden (fake) , rogue, nimble.
In the modern Russian language there are no such jargons that would be created with the special purpose of encrypting a method of communication. Nowadays, such groups of jargons are common that reflect specific associations of people by interests (“fans”, “car enthusiasts”, “film buffs”, etc.).
In many languages, there are youth slangs - school and student (ancestors, spurs, tail, peck). Sometimes, when describing speech, representatives of various social strata use the terms: slang, pidgin, koike.
Slang is a collection of slang words that make up a layer of colloquial vocabulary, reflecting a rudely familiar, sometimes humorous attitude towards the subject of speech.
Pidgins are structural and functional types of languages that do not have a group of native speakers and developed by simplifying the structure of the source language. Pidgin are languages widely spoken in former colonies: in Southeast Asia, India, Bangladesh, where they speak pidgin English. This is "spoiled" English. In African countries, when communicating with foreigners, the population speaks pidgin French and pidgin Portuguese.
Koike is a functional type of language used as the main means of everyday communication and used in various communicative areas.
The issue of foreign language borrowings is connected with the general problem of the historical formation of the vocabulary of the modern Russian language. From a stylistic point of view, the conditions and expediency of using such words in different styles speech.
According to F. Engels, such words in most cases - generally accepted scientific and technical terms - would not be necessary if they could be translated. Translation often only distorts the meaning. V. G. Belinsky said: “Of necessity, many foreign words entered the Russian language, because many foreign concepts and ideas entered Russian life. Therefore, with a new concept that one takes from another, he takes the very word that expresses this concept.” M. Gorky adhered to the same point of view.
...All these sounds merge into a deafening symphony of a working day. The boat rushed off again, silently and easily maneuvering among the ships. 1935 edition:
...All these sounds merge into the deafening music of a working day. The boat rushed off again, turning silently and easily among the ships.
Nominative and stylistic functions are performed by exotic vocabulary (words that characterize everyday life different nations).
A. S. Pushkin: Throw off your mantilla, dear angel; Panna cries and grieves; Delibash is already at its peak. Barbarisms (words from foreign languages) play a dual function. On the one hand, they are introduced into the Russian text (sometimes in a foreign language spelling) to convey relevant concepts and create “local flavor.” A. S. Pushkin in “Eugene Onegin”: wearing a wide bolivar; and far niente my law...
Barbarisms serve as a means of satire to ridicule people who subservient to foreigners. Speech saturated with barbarisms is called macaronic; most often it takes a poetic form (macaronic verses). For example, the comic poem by I. P. Myatlev “Sensations and remarks of Mrs. Kurdyukova”: Adyu, adyu, I am leaving, Lyuan maiden I will live, Me sepandan I will try to keep the souvenir maiden... In the “Concise Dictionary of Foreign Words” of 1955 it is explained the meaning of new foreign words, used by some motorists. Those who have visited Germany say: “autobahn” is a wide highway for high-speed traffic. A Russian driver will simply say: highway, concrete, without thinking that the first word is foreign, and the second is native.
Most of our common names are Greek; they began to be used in Rus' from the end of the 10th century, after its baptism. In Greek, these names had a special symbolic meaning. For example: Nikita – “winner”
In our time, the main evil is the unjustified replacement of understandable Russian words with borrowed, scientific-like and sometimes not entirely clear ones.
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Using similar “visual and expressive means,” the author of the parody published in Literaturnaya Gazeta, M. Rozovsky, created the following narrative based on the plot of “Little Red Riding Hood”:
Comments, as they say, are unnecessary. Any of you, my readers, will be able to appreciate the “beauty” of this style.All the way, slithering through the forest with terrible force, the Gray Wolf was glued to a colossal woman in a stunning Little Red Riding Hood. She immediately realized that the Gray Wolf was a weakling and suffocated, and began to tell him about his sick grandmother. “Listen, baby, take your pill,” Gray Wolf said. “This is not a fountain, millet and not a vein.” “It’s rubbish,” said Little Red Riding Hood. “Be healthy.”
Etc.
Unfortunately, in the works of some modern writers There are colloquial and vulgar expressions used without stylistic need such as “extremely grateful”, “be calm”, etc. (albeit in the speech of the characters).
As you can see, not everything that is found in literary prose is worthy of imitation.
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“Provincial” morals and “decadent” tastesSource of clogging literary language There is also unjustified individual “word creation”. Considering our title (phrases taken from a school essay), we point out that in the Russian language there is a word provincial, but the word “provincial” does not exist; there are words decadent(For example, decadent literature) And depressive(For example, depressive moods) but there is no word "decadent", formed as a hybrid of the first two words.
Compare other examples from student essays: "Unprincipled - Oblomov's character trait" ("hybrid" from the noun integrity and adjective unscrupulous):“The Young Guards showed miracles heroism(connected noun heroism and adjective heroic).
Unjustified word creation also occurs among writers. M. Gorky, examining the language of Ilyenkov’s novel “The Leading Axle,” wrote that words such as “kicked up,” “collapsed,” “fluttered,” “grunted,” “boruzdil” and similar “badly invented words” are “all “This is not even chaff, not straw, but a harmful weed, and there is a danger that its seeds will sprout abundantly and clog our rich, juicy, strong literary language.”
Do not imitate, my readers, some writers in this regard.
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"Walkers strongly lost weight»The student who wrote this phrase and others like it (for example, “At this news they had a panic”) used a dialect word. Obviously, in the surrounding language environment this phenomenon is not uncommon, although it is on the decline. But doubts arise about the appropriateness of using such words in the speech of a schoolchild or applicant, since dialect vocabulary is outside the boundaries of the literary language.
Even in relation to the language of fiction, the issue of using dialectisms is not so easily resolved. On the one hand, we must not forget that with their help, that local flavor is created, without which literary work may be outside of time and space. The great role of dialectisms is as a means of artistic depiction, speech characteristics of characters in the works of I. S. Turgenev, L. N. Tolstoy, M. Sholokhov, F. Gladkov, F. Panferov, G. Nikolaeva, S. Babaevsky, S. Antonov, V. Tendryakov and other writers. However, some young writers write as if for “their” local readers, and then the words of M. Gorky are forgotten: “If the word “khryndugi” is used in the Dmitrov district, it is not necessary that the population of the remaining eight hundred districts understand what this word means... In every province and even in many districts we have our own “dialects”, our own words, but a writer must write in Russian, and not in Vyatka, not in robes.”
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Another – editHis name is bureaucracy. At first glance, it may seem that clerical words and expressions are in no way inherent to anyone, and in any case to you, who are so far from the manifestation of bureaucracy in any area of life. Are the above not enough? – isms: vulgarisms, jargons (they are also called argotisms, i.e. words used within a narrow social group), unjustified individual neologisms (new words), dialectisms - to characterize the sources of clogging of the literary language in general and your speech in particular? Is there still a need to talk about clericalisms (words characteristic of the style business papers)? It turns out that it is needed.
Writers and journalists use clerical expressions to create a comic effect or for satirical purposes. For example, in feuilletons: What about my mother's dental implants?(M. Koltsov); Just this year, my ex-wife made two expenses without my consent... I understand that a young woman may have a need for sweets. So let her inform her husband about this, and the husband will satisfy her need in an organized manner.(S. Nariñani).
The same means of creating a comic effect is the inclusion of terminological vocabulary in a context that is alien in style, for example: A few days later, a young doctor was walking with a girl along very rough terrain on the seashore(I. Ilf and E. Petrov).
It is also justified to use professional words and phrases in works of art to create the desired stylistic coloring, for example: I met a young woman... I roll up to her from the starboard beam and drum like a sailor: - Let me cruise with you(N. Novikov-Priboy).
All this is true, you say, but what does this have to do with us, students and applicants? Do we use bureaucratic language in our speech? Unfortunately, yes. You can evaluate for yourself the style of the sentences below, taken from the written works of your peers: “After Onegin’s departure, Tatyana throws all his strength into understand his character"; “Based on the current situation, The Young Guards decided to cross the front line one by one.”
It turns out that, unbeknownst to you, you are becoming victims of word usage that is still found in our newspapers. In them you can read: “The work of a kindergarten manager regarding export an extremely large amount of work has been done for children at the dacha”; “A lot of educational work is being done at the plant like a line trade union organizations, and along the line Komsomol"; "There is a place lag due to weakness cultural work."
Officeism deprives speech of the necessary simplicity, liveliness, and emotionality, giving it an “official” character. The writer K. Chukovsky wrote about this: “How can one, for example, believe that we admire Nekrasov’s artistic style, if about this very Nekrasov we write the following words: “The creative processing of the image of the courtyard goes along the line of enhancing the display of the tragedy of his fate.” Hence, as the writer puts it, “departmental, standard jargon” arises, and with it appears a disease of the language – “clericalism”.
We find the same outlandish stylistic structure in cases where, instead of simple colloquial speech, some kind of gibberish is created - the result of the inclusion of purely bookish, sometimes sophisticated expressions in everyday conversation. An example of such a speech was given in the Literary Gazette in the form of a dialogue between a boy and his father. Here is the beginning of the text:
- Dad, can I not eat for breakfast? oatmeal?
- No, you can’t. As already indicated by mom, in view of the decrease in air temperature, you should eat oatmeal, because this will cause your body temperature to rise. In addition, given the above temperature conditions, you should wear gloves knitted by your grandmother and a wool-lined jacket.
– Can I sprinkle sugar on the oatmeal?
– The absence of sugar in this vessel was previously stated by the pope. However, this substance has already been delivered by the mother from the appropriate container located in the kitchen.
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« Should note following facts"Such combinations occur quite often in different texts, complementing examples of stylistically inferior sentences. Their disadvantage, not always noticed by the writer or speaker, is the so-called tautologies– repetition of the same or similar words.
Examples from student work: "The portrayed image clearly shows..."; “In the fight against the fascist occupiers, the population united together";“In the poem “Dead Souls” Gogol captured their impressions...";"All thoughts and aspirations Pavel Vlasova aspired to the revolution"; “The novel “The Young Guard” shows the features characters, typical for enemies"; "Clarity goals allows Pavel Korchagin purposefully achieve what you set out to do."
On this occasion, M. Gorky wrote: “We must avoid frequent repetition of monotonous words in close proximity to one another... Frequent repetition of the same word, no matter how pleasant it may be to you personally, should bore the reader.”
At the same time, repetition of the same or cognate words is often used by writers as a special stylistic device to emphasize certain details in the description, to create expressiveness, etc. Thus, in L. N. Tolstoy’s novel “Resurrection” we read: A wonderful, clean, courteous cab driver took him[Nekhlyudova] past beautiful, polite, clean policemen, along the beautiful, cleanly watered pavement, past beautiful, clean houses to that house on the ditch in which Mariette lived.
The following example can be given:
Strength has proven strength!
Strength is no match for strength.
There is metal stronger than metal,
There is fire worse than fire.
(A. Tvardovsky.)
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…plus savingsLanguage resources should be used sparingly. If “brevity is the sister of talent” (A.P. Chekhov), then verbosity is the enemy of clarity.
Often there are combinations of words that are so close in the concept they express that some of these words become completely redundant. For example, “getting acquainted for the first time” (it is no longer possible to get acquainted “for the second time”; the phrase probably arose under the influence of the phrase meet for the first time);“we value every minute of time” (an extra word time; combinations are allowed every minute of working time, every minute of study time etc.); “return in the month of April” (extra word month);“ten rubles of money” (an extra word money);“wrote his autobiography” (in the word autobiography the concept has already been concluded own);“step back two steps” (extra word back, since they do not retreat forward), etc. Linguists call this phenomenon pleonasm(excess).
M. Gorky, in his advice to beginning writers, repeatedly gave examples of how the same idea can be expressed more briefly and more economically. Thus, considering the sentence “Don’t poke his nose where it shouldn’t,” he remarks in the margins of the manuscript: “Is it really possible to poke someone else’s nose?” In the combinations “one’s own family”, “silently, without words”, “licking droplets from the hair of the mustache” M. Gorky notes the doubling of the concept: its own– this is “native”; silently– means “without words”; mustache- This is “hair on the upper lip.” Correcting the manuscript sent to him, M. Gorky puts extra words in brackets: “Days and weeks flew by (by) ...”; “Everything was thought out down to (the) smallest detail.” “If he writes verbosely, this also means that he himself does not understand well what he is talking about,” Gorky argued.
Verbosity easily turns into idle talk. Let's take this example: “Our commander is still 15 minutes before his death was alive" (the sentence is taken from a comic song of French soldiers of the early 16th century). Such examples are characterized not only by comic absurdity and the expression of self-evident truth, but also by their inherent verbosity: after all, it is clear that a person lives until his own (and not someone else’s) death.
Compare other similar “profound” phrases: “To cook scrambled eggs you need to have at least one egg”; “He passed away on Wednesday; If he had lived one more day, he would have died on Thursday.” About the creators of such truths, A. S. Pushkin wrote: “Our critics usually say: it’s good because it’s beautiful; and this is bad because it’s bad.”
So, more thoughts, fewer words. “The art of writing is the art of cutting,” said A.P. Chekhov.
Extra words indicate not only stylistic negligence, they also indicate the unclearness of the author’s ideas about the subject of the statement.
* * *
Well, you can imagine that someone like that, that is, Captain Kopeikin, suddenly found himself in a capital city, which, so to speak, has nothing like it in the world. Suddenly there was a light in front of him, so to speak, a certain field of life, a fabulous Scheherazade. Suddenly, some kind of, you can imagine, Nevsky Prospekt, or, you know, some kind of Gorokhovaya, damn it! or there’s some kind of Foundry there; there's some kind of spitz in the air; the bridges there hang like hell, you can imagine, without any, that is, touching - in a word, Semiramis, sir, that’s it!
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"It is forbidden negligite their responsibilities"It is not difficult to see the inappropriateness of the use of the word in this sentence neglate: the point is not only in its outdated nature, but also in the unjustified use of a word of foreign origin instead of a Russian word that is quite suitable for the given context neglect.
Sometimes our youth flaunts the use of such words, showing their “learnedness.” For example: "Identical the decision was made by students in a parallel class"; "Young woman confidentially admitted to her friends that she changed her name Katya to Carmen because the latter impresses her appearance"; "Among those gathered prevailed youth representatives"; “At the last competitions, our football team suffered complete fiasco";"The new season opens great opportunities for further evolution individual sports."
There is also abuse of foreign words in the language of print, for example: “The general attention was attracted by a new announcement, posted on front door institutions"; "Cardinal point of disagreement between the participants in the discussion by compromise was reduced to nothing"; "No reasons had no effect on the stubborn arguer, and no arguments they couldn’t convince him”; “The speaker spoke in a very pompous manner, which made the audience negative effect."
The desire to give more “weight” to a text by introducing foreign words into it sometimes leads to funny things. The author of the newspaper article “The Polar Sun” writes that, once in Norilsk, he looked “at the city, at galaxy its mines, mines and factories." But galaxy- this is “a group of outstanding figures in any field in one era,” and no matter how industrially significant the mines, mines and factories of Norilsk are, they still will not fall into the corpse of outstanding figures.
In the above examples, there is evidence of the contamination of the Russian language with other people's words, which V.I. Lenin sharply opposed. In the note “On cleaning up the Russian language,” he wrote: “We are spoiling the Russian language. We use foreign words unnecessarily. We use them incorrectly. Why say “defects” when you can say shortcomings or shortcomings or gaps?... Isn’t it time for us to declare war on the use of foreign words unnecessarily?” (Complete collected works, vol. 40. p. 49.)
Indicative in this regard are the corrections that M. Gorky made to his works when they were republished.
An example of an author's edit associated with the replacement of foreign words with Russian or more common and understandable foreign ones can be individual sentences from the story “Chelkash”.
Publication of the story 1895
1...All these sounds merge into a deafening symphony of a working day.
2. The boat rushed off again, silently and easily maneuvering among the ships. Suddenly she emerged from their labyrinth.
Edition of the story 1935
A.P. Chekhov carried out similar work on clearing the text of foreign words. For example, in his early stories we find the following substitutions: instead of something specific - something special; instead of nothing extraordinary - nothing special; instead of indifferent - indifferent; instead of for balance - for balance; instead of simulate - act out; instead of ignore – not notice; instead of ordinary - ordinary and others like that.All these sounds merge into the deafening music of a working day.
The boat rushed off again, turning silently and easily among the ships. Suddenly she broke away from their crowd.
It follows from V.I. Lenin’s instructions and from the practice of his editorial work that words of foreign language origin should not be used unnecessarily, but this does not mean avoiding such words altogether. V. G. Belinsky rightly wrote: “Of necessity, many foreign words entered the Russian language, because many foreign concepts and ideas entered Russian life. This phenomenon is not new... Inventing your own terms to express other people’s concepts is very difficult, and in general this work is rarely successful. Therefore, with a new concept that one takes from another, he takes the very word that expresses this concept.” V. G. Belinsky also wrote that “an unsuccessfully invented Russian word to express a concept is not only not better, but decidedly worse than a foreign word.” For example, the compiler of the “Explanatory Dictionary of the Living Great Russian Language” V. I. Dal came up with the words (shirokolitsa, kolozemitsa) (atmosphere),"dexterity" (gymnastics),"sky-earth, eye" (horizon),"Rozhekorcha" (grimace),"self-made, self-made" (egoist) and similar ones, but they did not take hold in the Russian language, did not enter its vocabulary.
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“What river is so wide, How Oka?This sentence shows that an ill-considered selection of words, in this case words with the unfortunate juxtaposition of identical sounds, can make speech dissonant.
Compare also “Parking available and ae roporta" (a cluster of vowels, the so-called gaping); "You can't spend all your time having fun. and and and grah" (same thing); "Built here is the building the building has not yet been put into operation” (accumulation of the same combinations of consonants); “Danko was proud and brave, he called them all into battle” (the cacophony is caused by the abundance of monosyllabic words in the sentence, most of them under stress).
M. Gorky paid great attention to the euphony of speech. In a letter to one worker correspondent, he wrote: “The Russian language is quite rich. But it has its drawbacks, and one of them is hissing sound combinations: - lice, - lice, - lice, - cabbage soup, - cabbage soup. On the first page of your story lice crawling in large quantities: “arrived”, “worked”, “speaking”. It’s quite possible to do without insects.”
M. Gorky adhered to this principle when working on the language of his own works. You can give the following example of an author's edit related to the elimination of unnecessary participial forms from the text of the story “Chelkash”:
First edition
It was such a vague, ripening, annoying feeling, independent of his will, swarming somewhere deep and preventing him from concentrating and thinking about everything that needed to be done that night.
Final edition
Gorky also pointed out the need to avoid the sound coincidence of the final syllable of one word with the same initial syllable of the next word, for example: “Nochlezhka is a stone skull” (two are underlined ka);"The dust is rising for eyes, for collar, in the mouth" (two adjacent ones are underlined for);"Working How convict" (about the proximity of two last words Gorky wrote that “this is bad”).A vague, slowly brewing, annoying feeling was swirling somewhere deep and prevented him from concentrating and thinking about what needed to be done that night.
A.P. Chekhov spoke in the same spirit: “In general, ugly, discordant words should be avoided. I don’t like words with a lot of hissing and whistling sounds, I avoid them.”
The requirements for the sound side of speech apply not only to fiction, but also to texts of other styles. There is a well-known example of V.I. Lenin’s mocking remark on the commission’s draft program of the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party. In § 13 of the draft it was said: “In Russia, next to capitalism, which is rapidly expanding the area of its dominance and becoming more and more the predominant method of production, at every step there are still remnants of our old, pre-capitalist social order...” Regarding this paragraph, V.I. Lenin made the remark: “I bow and thank you for the tiny step towards me. But "becoming, predominant"... cabbage soup... cabbage soup - fi, fi!" (vol. 6, p. 250).
Although you and I, my readers, are not engaged in a dialogue, I foresee a question-objection from you: what about the accumulation of participles among poets? And here’s an example from N. A. Nekrasov:
From the jubilant, idly chattering,
Hands stained with blood,
Lead me to the camp of the lost
For a great cause of love.
To this example, to strengthen your argument, I can add another one - from A. Tvardovsky:
Let us remember those who retreated with us,
Those who fought for a year or an hour,
Fallen, missing,
Who have we met at least once?
Those who saw off, who met again,
Those who gave us water to drink,
Those who prayed for us.
It is not difficult to see that in the last passage from “Vasily Terkin” the participles, which have turned into nouns, like book forms, with their accumulation enhance the pathetic solemnity of speech, that their inclusion in poetry is the result of the conscious use of a special stylistic device. When we talk about cacophony (cacophony, a combination of sounds that grates on the ear), we mean the repetition of the same sounds, in particular those hissing in participles, due to an oversight, not related to the stylistic task. Such cases were wittily used to create a parody by the satirical writer V. Ardov in the feuilleton “The Cloth Language”:
On the other hand, the repetition of the same sounds is used for the so-called sound recording (sound orchestration), the essence of which lies in the correspondence of the phonetic composition of the phrase to the one depicted. life situation. For example, repeating sounds w, p And n from A. S. Pushkin: The hiss of foamy glasses and the blue flame of punch. Compare also in “Tales of Italy” by M. Gorky: the silken rustle of the sea, cheerful green waves ringing, wine flowing into a yellow cup, flowing and sounding etc.Persons walking on the grass growing behind the separating grate, breaking and tearing out with rakes, as well as pushing, pestering people walking, throwing themselves at those using growing plants, tripping up visitors, spitting on those passing and sitting, frightening existing children, riding bicycles, having animals those who pollute and bite, tear out flowers and litter are fined.
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"Running breaking my head"
A prominent place in our speech is occupied by phraseological units - meaningful, stable phrases that usually figuratively convey the meaning contained in them. Their advantage over individual words or free combinations of words is that they are easily reproduced in the form of ready-made speech formulas, save time and effort, facilitate the communication process, give speech figurativeness and expressiveness. For example: keep a stone in your bosom- “to have secretly evil intentions towards someone” you won't find it during the day with fire- "hard to find" make an elephant out of a molehill- "to exaggerate" out of the frying pan into the fire- “to get from one misfortune to another, worse one”, not worth a penny- “has no value.” This also includes figurative expressions such as shot sparrow, poisoned wolf, office rat, disservice, warmongers, cold war, the last spoke in the chariot and many others.
Using phraseological phrases, you should reproduce them exactly, in the form in which they are fixed in the language. This requirement is violated in the above heading, where instead of the accepted headlong The incorrect word “breaking your head” was used. There is obviously no need to remind that this phraseological unit, like others, should not be interpreted literally.
In speech, phraseological units are often found in a distorted form. For example: “In the works of Turgenev, the landscape plays great value " (instead of plays a big role or is of great importance; from two expressions play a role And matter the third is incorrectly formed, in which the verb is taken from one combination, and the noun from another); "Red line in the novel "The Young Guard" the idea of the leading role of the party in the Great Patriotic War" (instead of red thread);“In bourgeois literature, party affiliation and nationality - two big differences"(there are no two differences); “The play “At the Depths” has been translated into many languages and produced big resonance on readers" (from two combinations: make an impression And get resonance);“A smart, extraordinary man, Pechorin just can’t find using your hands" (instead of use of one's powers).
Distortion of phraseological units, unfortunately, is also found in the press, for example: “He took for himself the lion's share"(instead of the lion's share);“Everyone unanimously demanded raise the curtain over this strange story" (instead of lift the veil);“A good leader must show sample to his subordinates" (instead of serve as a model or show an example).
The reorganization of phraseological units encountered among writers may have the character of a special stylistic device, the purpose of which is to update the expression used. For example, from M. E. Saltykov-Shchedrin: Censorship is accustomed to poking its stinking nose into the very sanctuary of a writer’s thoughts(word inserted stinking); from A.P. Chekhov: Looked at the world from the heights of his meanness(instead of from the height of his greatness); The first pancake I gave seemed to come out lumpy(word inserted given); from V. Mayakovsky: I tremble for her like the apple of my eye(instead of for the apple of my eye); With all my puppy strength...(word inserted puppy ones).
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My friend, Arkady Nikolaevich, don’t speak beautifullyThese words of Bazarov from I. S. Turgenev’s novel “Fathers and Sons,” which have become popular, remind us of the need to observe a sense of proportion in the use of figurative means of language, and not to deprive speech of naturalness and simplicity. Almost all styles use epithets, comparisons, metaphors, etc., but we should not forget that their purpose is not just to serve as an external decoration, but to help convey the content of the statement more deeply and vividly.
A. S. Pushkin and L. N. Tolstoy, A. P. Chekhov and M. Gorky spoke about the simplicity of language as its dignity. The desire to write or speak “beautifully” often leads to results that are directly opposite to those that the author expects: the reader discovers artificiality, deliberateness in the author’s words and loses interest in the content of what is written or said.
M. Gorky said: “There is no need to write so ‘beautifully’. This is out of place. And, in general, when it’s so beautiful, it’s funny to read.”
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Isolation of agreed definitions Isolation (set off with commas) of agreed definitions depends on several factors: a) on the part of speech of the defined (main) word; b) from the position of the definition in relation to the defined (main) word - before the main word, after the main word; c) from the presence of additional shades of meaning in the definition (adverbial, explanatory); d) on the degree of distribution and method of expression of the definition.
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Conditions for isolating agreed definitions A) The word being defined is a pronoun 1. Definitions that relate to personal pronouns (I, you, we, you, he, she, it, they) are isolated. The degree of distribution of the definition, the method of its expression (participle, adjective), position in relation to the main word usually do not play a role: I, taught by experience, will be more attentive to it. Tired, she fell silent and looked around. And, tired of his happiness, he immediately fell asleep. 2. Definitions that relate to negative pronouns (nobody, nothing), indefinite pronouns (someone, something, someone, something) are usually not isolated, since they form a single whole with pronouns: Nothing written can compare with this novel by the author earlier. Something like a smile flashed across his face.
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Notes 1) With a less close connection, if there is a pause after an indefinite pronoun, the attributive phrase is isolated. For example: And someone, sweating and out of breath, runs from store to store (Panova). 2) Adjectives or participles with or without dependent words, associated with the attributive pronoun all, are not isolated if the adjective or participle acts as the main word, and the pronoun all acts as a dependent attribute. For example: Everyone who was late for the lecture stood in the corridor. (cf.: Those who were late for the lecture stood in the corridor). If the main word is the pronoun all, and the attributive phrase explains or clarifies it, then such a phrase is isolated. For example: Everything connected with the railway is still covered in the poetry of travel for me (cf.: Everything is still covered in the poetry of travel for me).
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B) The word being defined is a noun 1. A common definition (participle or adjective with dependent words), homogeneous single definitions are separated if they appear after the defined noun. Such definitions are usually not isolated if they appear before the noun being defined. Wed: The clearings, strewn with leaves, were full of sun. – The leaf-strewn meadows were full of sun; I especially liked the eyes, big and sad. – I especially liked the big and sad eyes.
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2) A single adjective after a noun is usually not isolated. For example: A young man cannot understand the worries of an old man. A single definition can be isolated only if it has an additional adverbial meaning (it can be replaced with a subordinate clause with conjunctions if, when, because, although, etc.). In oral speech, isolated single definitions are necessarily pronounced with pauses. For example: It is impossible for a young man in love not to spill the beans (Turgenev). – It is impossible for a young man, if he is in love, not to spill the beans; People, amazed, became like stones (M. Gorky). “The people became like stones because they were amazed.” However, such a selection is always the author’s (!).
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2. Before the defined noun there is a common definition (participle or adjective with dependent words), homogeneous single definitions are isolated only if they have an additional adverbial meaning (they can be asked why? in spite of what?, etc.; they can be replaced by adverbial subordinate clauses with conjunctions because, although, etc.). In oral speech, such definitions are necessarily distinguished by pauses. Wed: Always cheerful, lively, the nurses now moved intently and silently around Tanya (Kazakov). “Although the nurses had always been cheerful and lively, now they moved intently and silently around Tanya.
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However, such separation is usually optional and not mandatory. And depending on the intonation (the presence of pauses or their absence), the same definition in the position before the main word - the noun will be isolated or not isolated. Wed: Wounded in the head, the scout could not crawl (Since the scout was wounded in the head, he could not crawl - pause after the noun in the head). – The scout wounded in the head could not crawl (pause after the noun scout).
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3. Common and single definitions are isolated if they are torn off from the defined noun by other members of the sentence (regardless of whether they are located before the main word or after it). For example: 1. Kashtanka stretched, yawned and, angry, gloomy, walked around the room (Chekhov). Homogeneous single definitions angry, gloomy refer to the noun Kashtanka and are separated from it by the predicates stretched, yawned. 2. The sounds of a bell came towards me, clean and clear, as if washed by the morning cool (Turgenev). The definitions are clean and clear, as if washed by the morning cool, the sounds stand before the noun being defined, but are separated from it by other members of the sentence - they were brought to the predicate.
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1) If a separate definition is in the middle of a sentence, then it is separated by commas on both sides. The clearings strewn with leaves were full of sun. 2) The attributive phrase that comes after the coordinating conjunction (and, or, a, but, etc.), but is not associated with it, is separated by a comma from the conjunction according to general rule. Kashtanka stretched, yawned and, angry and gloomy, walked around the room. The conjunction connects homogeneous predicates and has nothing to do with separate definitions. The definitions can be removed, but the union can be preserved: Kashtanka stretched, yawned and walked around the room. Therefore, a comma is placed after the conjunction and. .
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But a comma is not placed between the conjunction (usually the conjunction a) and the attributive phrase if, when the clause is omitted, a restructuring of the sentence is required. The ball floats on the surface of the pool, and when immersed in water, it quickly floats up. In this case, it is impossible to remove the attributive phrase without the conjunction a. The ball rests on the surface of the pool, but quickly floats up 3) The adjective and participle associated with the verb - the predicate - are not definitions, but the nominal part of the predicate. Such adjectives and participles do not obey the rules mentioned above. Wed: We reached the hut wet; She came running from the club excited and joyful.
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Exercise. Find isolated or non-isolated definitions in the sentences. Add missing punctuation marks. 1. The weather, which had been gloomy since the morning, began to gradually clear up (Arsenyev). 2. He had already opened his mouth and stood up a little from the bench, but suddenly, struck by horror, he closed his eyes and fell off the bench (M. Gorky). 3. Seized by evil despair, I saw around only these waves with whitish manes (M. Gorky). 4. Seized by some vague premonition, Korchagin quickly got dressed and went out into the street (N. Ostrovsky). 5. Meresyev sat silent and anxious (Polevoy). 6. A stoker who looked like a black man passed by and did not close the door near me (Bunin). 7. While the carriage, accompanied by barking, rolls with a roar along the bridges over the ravines, I look at the piles of bricks left from the burnt house and drowned in the weeds and think about what old Kologrivov would do if he saw impudent people jumping around the yard of his estate (Bunin) .
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8. Pavel went into her room and sat down tiredly on a chair (Polevoy). 9. The fire of a bomb exploding near him instantly illuminated two people standing above and the white foam of greenish waves cut by the steamer (L. Tolstoy). 10. A heavy roar, unheard of by anyone, shook the air (A.N. Tolstoy). 11. Chichikov only noticed through the thick blanket of pouring rain something similar to a roof (Gogol). 12. The badger, frightened by the noise, rushed to the side and disappeared from sight (Arsenyev).
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Test yourself 1. The weather, which had been gloomy since the morning, began to gradually clear up (the definition comes before the noun). 2. He had already opened his mouth and stood up a little from the bench, but suddenly, struck by horror, he closed his eyes... (the definition refers to a personal pronoun and is separated from it by other members of the sentence). 3. Seized by evil despair, I (the definition refers to the personal pronoun) saw around only these waves with whitish manes (the singular definition comes before the noun). 4. Seized by some vague premonition, Korchagin quickly got dressed and went out into the street (a common definition comes before the noun, but has an additional adverbial meaning of reason, cf.: Since Korchagin was gripped by some kind of premonition, he quickly got dressed...) . 5. Meresyev sat silent and anxious (cf.: Meresyev was silent and anxious). 6. A stoker who looked like a black man passed by and did not close the door near me (the definition comes after the noun).
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7. While the tarantass, accompanied by barking, rolls with a roar along the bridges over the ravines, I look at the piles of bricks left from the burnt house and drowned in the weeds, and think about what old Kologrivov would do if he saw impudent people jumping around the yard his estate (all definitions come after nouns). 8. Pavel went out to her room and, tired, sat down on a chair (the single definition is separated from the word being defined by other members of the sentence; the conjunction connects the predicates, cf.: Pavel went out and sat down). 9. The fire of a bomb that exploded near him (the definition comes before the noun) instantly illuminated two people standing above (the definition comes after the noun) and the white foam of greenish waves cut by the steamer (the definition comes after the noun). 10. A heavy, unheard roar shook the air ( homogeneous definitions they are not separated before a noun, but are separated by a comma).
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11. Chichikov only noticed through the thick blanket (single adjective stands before the noun) the pouring rain (single attribute stands before the noun) something similar to a roof (attributive phrase refers to an indefinite pronoun and forms a complete combination with it). 12. Frightened by the noise, the badger rushed to the side and disappeared from sight (a common definition comes before the noun, but has an additional adverbial meaning of cause, cf.: Since the badger was frightened by the noise, he rushed to the side and disappeared from sight).
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Exercise 19. Place the missing punctuation marks. 1. The girl picked a twig from a currant bush and, delighted with the aroma of the buds, caught up with her companion and gave him the twig (Prishvin). 2. In the archpriest’s father’s long beard and in his small mustache connecting to the beard at the corners of his mouth, several black hairs flash, giving it the appearance of silver trimmed with niello (Leskov). 3. His eyes are brown, bold and clear (Leskov). 4. The sky is almost not reflected in the water cut by the blows of the oars of steamboat propellers by the sharp keels of Turkish feluccas and other ships plowing the narrow harbor in all directions (M. Gorky). 5. A long dam lined with silver poplars closed this pond (Turgenev). 6. She was wearing a white robe stained with blood and a scarf tied tightly to her eyebrows (A.N. Tolstoy). 7. Long, grasping arms raised the pine trees and they are trying to hold on to the clouds (Kuranov). 8. Angry in appearance, he was kind at heart (Fadeev).
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9. Energetic, tall, a little angry and mocking, he stands as if rooted to the logs, and in a tense pose, ready to turn the rafts every second, he vigilantly looks ahead (M. Gorky). 10. The blue southern sky, darkened by dust, is cloudy (M. Gorky). 11. Mountains protruded from behind the sea, looking like a flock of clouds, and clouds like snowy mountains swirled behind them (Krymov). 12. The ringing of anchor chains, the roar of coupled cars delivering cargo, the metallic scream of iron sheets falling from somewhere on the stone pavement, the dull knock of wood, the rattling of cab carts, the whistles of steamships, sometimes piercingly sharp, sometimes the dull roaring cries of loaders, sailors and customs soldiers - all these sounds merge into the deafening music of labor of the day (M. Gorky). 13. And the people themselves who originally gave birth to this noise are funny and pitiful: their dusty, tattered, nimble figures, bent under the weight of goods lying on their backs, fussily run here and there in clouds of dust in a sea of heat and sounds, they are insignificant compared to the iron ones surrounding them
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colossal piles of goods, rattling carriages and everything that they created (M. Gorky). 14. Long, bony, slightly stooped, he slowly walked along the stones (M. Gorky). 15. He is a very kind person, but with rather strange concepts and habits (Turgenev). 16. But suddenly paying two hundred and three hundred rubles for something even most necessary seemed almost suicide to them (Goncharov). 17. The next day we learned that Soviet intelligence entered the city but, shocked by the monstrous picture of the escape, stopped at the descent to the port and did not open fire (Paustovsky). 18. Obviously, depressed by memories, Arzhanov fell silent for a long time (Sholokhov). 19. He looked around and saw that an overturned truck lying by the road, long since torn apart in parts, was smoking and quickly flaring up (Polevoy). 20. Dawn came, and Kazbek (Zabolotsky), encased in snow with a double-headed fragment of crystal, caught fire. 21. And enclosed in a regular square, he either rushes about and rushes for the fence, or silently flies around the garden (Shefner). 22. I never entered the house, sat on a bench and left unnoticed by anyone (Nikitin
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Exercise 19 1. The girl picked a twig from a currant bush and, delighted with the aroma of the buds, caught up with her companion and gave him the twig. 2. In the long beard of the archpriest’s father and in his small mustache, connecting with the beard at the corners of his mouth, several black hairs flash, giving it the appearance of silver trimmed with niello. 3. His eyes are brown, bold and clear. 4. The sky is almost not reflected in the water, cut by the blows of oars, steamship propellers, sharp keels of Turkish feluccas and other ships plowing the cramped harbor in all directions. 5. A long dam lined with silver poplars closed this pond. 6. She was wearing a white robe, stained with blood, and a scarf tied tightly to her eyebrows. 7. Long, grasping, wide arms raised up the pine trees and they all cling to the clouds, trying to hold them. 8. Angry in appearance, he was kind at heart. 9. Energetic, tall, a little angry and mocking, he stands as if rooted to the logs, and in a tense pose, ready to turn the rafts every second, vigilantly looks ahead.
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10. The blue southern sky, darkened with dust, is cloudy. 11. Mountains protruded from behind the sea, looking like a flock of clouds, and clouds like snowy mountains swirled behind them. 12. The ringing of anchor chains, the roar of coupled wagons delivering cargo, the metallic scream of iron sheets falling from somewhere on the stone pavement, the dull knock of wood, the rattling of cab carts, the whistles of steamships, sometimes piercingly sharp, sometimes dull roars, the cries of loaders, sailors and customs soldiers - all these sounds merge into the deafening music of a working day. 13. And the people themselves, who originally gave birth to this noise, are funny and pitiful: their figures, dusty, ragged, nimble, bent under the weight of goods lying on their backs, fussily run here and there in clouds of dust, in a sea of heat and sounds , they are insignificant compared to the iron colossi around them, the piles of goods, the rattling carriages and everything that they created. 14. Long, bony, slightly stooped, he walked slowly along the stones. 15. He is a very kind person, but with rather strange concepts and habits.
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16. But suddenly paying two hundred or three hundred rubles for something, even the most necessary, seemed almost suicide to them. 17. The next day we learned that Soviet intelligence entered the city, but, shocked by the monstrous picture of the escape, stopped at the descent to the port and did not open fire. 18. Obviously depressed by memories, Arzhanov fell silent for a long time. 19. He looked around and saw that an overturned truck lying near the road, long since torn apart in parts, was smoking and quickly flaring up. 20. Dawn came, and Kazbek, shackled in snow, caught fire with a double-headed fragment of crystal. 21. And, enclosed in a regular square, it either rushes about and rushes for the fence, or silently flies around the garden. 22. I never entered the house, sat on a bench and, unnoticed by anyone, left. 23. But besides the song, we also had something good, something we loved and, perhaps, replaced the sun for us. 24. He stood, surprised by the unexpected meeting, and, also embarrassed, was about to leave.
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25. Soft and silvery, it [the sea] merged there with the blue southern sky and sleeps soundly, reflecting the transparent fabric of cirrus clouds, motionless and not hiding the golden patterns of stars.
The blue southern sky, darkened with dust, is cloudy; the hot sun looks into the greenish sea, as if through a thin gray veil. It is almost not reflected in the water, cut by the blows of oars, steamship propellers, the sharp keels of Turkish feluccas and other ships plowing the cramped harbor in all directions. The waves of the sea, encased in granite, are suppressed by huge weights sliding along their ridges, hitting the sides of ships, the shores, beating and grumbling, foamed, polluted with various rubbish. The ringing of anchor chains, the roar of clutches of cars delivering cargo, the metallic scream of iron sheets falling from somewhere on the stone pavement, the dull knock of wood, the rattling of cab carts, the whistles of steamships, sometimes piercingly sharp, sometimes dully roaring, the cries of loaders, sailors and customs soldiers all these sounds merge into the deafening music of a working day and, rebelliously swaying, stand low in the sky above the harbor, more and more new waves of sounds rise up from the ground towards them sometimes dull, rumbling, they sternly shake everything around, sometimes sharp, thundering , tearing through the dusty, sultry air. Granite, iron, wood, harbor pavement, ships and people - everything breathes with the powerful sounds of a passionate hymn to Mercury. But the voices of people, barely audible in it, are weak and funny. And the people themselves, who originally gave birth to this noise, are funny and pitiful: their figures, dusty, ragged, nimble, bent under the weight of goods lying on their backs, fussily run here and there in clouds of dust, in a sea of heat and sounds, they insignificant compared to the iron colossuses around them, the piles of goods, the rattling carriages and everything they created. What they created enslaved and depersonalized them. Standing under steam, the heavy giant steamships whistle, hiss, sigh deeply, and in every sound born of them one can see a mocking note of contempt for the gray, dusty figures of people crawling along their decks, filling the deep holds with the products of their slave labor. The long lines of porters carrying thousands of pounds of bread on their shoulders into the iron bellies of ships in order to earn a few pounds of the same bread for their stomachs are funny to tears. Ragged, sweaty people, dull from fatigue, noise and heat, and powerful machines, shining in the sun with stature, created by these people, machines that, in the end, were not set in motion by steam, but by the muscles and blood of their creators, in This juxtaposition was a whole poem of cruel irony. The noise was overwhelming, the dust, irritating the nostrils, blinded the eyes, the heat baked the body and exhausted it, and everything around seemed tense, losing patience, ready to burst into some kind of grandiose catastrophe, an explosion, after which the air refreshed by it would breathe freely and easily, silence will reign on the earth, and this dusty noise, deafening, irritating, leading to melancholy rage, will disappear, and then in the city, on the sea, in the sky it will become quiet, clear, glorious... Twelve measured and ringing strikes of the bell rang out. When the last brass sound died away, the wild music of labor already sounded quieter. A minute later it turned into a dull, dissatisfied murmur. Now the voices of people and the splash of the sea have become more audible. It's lunch time.Maxim Gorky
Chelkash
The blue southern sky, darkened with dust, is cloudy; the hot sun looks into the greenish sea, as if through a thin gray veil. It is almost not reflected in the water, cut by the blows of oars, steamship propellers, the sharp keels of Turkish feluccas and other ships plowing the cramped harbor in all directions. The waves of the sea, encased in granite, are suppressed by huge weights sliding along their ridges, hitting the sides of ships, the shores, beating and grumbling, foamed, polluted with various rubbish. The ringing of anchor chains, the roar of clutches of cars delivering cargo, the metallic scream of iron sheets falling from somewhere on the stone pavement, the dull knock of wood, the rattling of cab carts, the whistles of steamships, sometimes piercingly sharp, sometimes dully roaring, the cries of loaders, sailors and customs soldiers - all these sounds merge into the deafening music of a working day and, swaying rebelliously, stand low in the sky above the harbor - more and more new waves of sounds rise up to them from the ground - now dull, rumbling, they sternly shake everything around, then sharp, thundering, tearing through the dusty, sultry air. Granite, iron, wood, harbor pavement, ships and people - everything breathes with the powerful sounds of a passionate hymn to Mercury. But the voices of people, barely audible in it, are weak and funny. And the people themselves, who originally gave birth to this noise, are funny and pitiful: their figures, dusty, ragged, nimble, bent under the weight of goods lying on their backs, fussily run here and there in clouds of dust, in a sea of heat and sounds, they insignificant compared to the iron colossuses around them, the piles of goods, the rattling carriages and everything that they created. What they created enslaved and depersonalized them. Standing under steam, the heavy giant steamships whistle, hiss, sigh deeply, and in every sound born of them, one can see a mocking note of contempt for the gray, dusty figures of people crawling along their decks, filling the deep holds with the products of their slave labor. The long lines of porters carrying thousands of pounds of bread on their shoulders into the iron bellies of ships in order to earn a few pounds of the same bread for their stomachs are funny to tears. Ragged, sweaty people, dull from fatigue, noise and heat, and the powerful machines, shining in the sun with corpulence, created by these people - machines that, in the end, were set in motion not by steam, but by the muscles and blood of their creators - there was a whole poem of cruel irony in this juxtaposition. The noise was overwhelming, the dust, irritating the nostrils, blinded the eyes, the heat baked the body and exhausted it, and everything around seemed tense, losing patience, ready to erupt in some kind of grandiose catastrophe, an explosion, after which in the air it had refreshed there would be breathe freely and easily, silence will reign on the earth, and this dusty noise, deafening, irritating, leading to melancholy rage, will disappear, and then in the city, on the sea, in the sky it will become quiet, clear, glorious. .. Twelve measured and ringing strikes of the bell were heard. When the last brass sound died away, the wild music of labor already sounded quieter. A minute later it turned into a dull, dissatisfied murmur. Now the voices of people and the splash of the sea have become more audible. It's lunch time. When the stevedores, having given up work, scattered around the harbor in noisy groups, buying various foodstuffs from the traders and sitting down to dine right there on the pavement, in shady corners, Grishka Chelkash appeared, an old poisoned wolf, well known to the Havana people, an inveterate drunkard and a clever , brave thief. He was barefoot, in old, threadbare corduroy trousers, without a hat, in a dirty cotton shirt with a torn collar, revealing his dry and angular bones, covered in brown leather. It was clear from his tousled black and gray hair and his crumpled, sharp, predatory face that he had just woken up. There was a straw sticking out of one of his brown mustaches, another straw was tangled in the stubble of his left shaved cheek, and he had tucked a small, freshly plucked linden branch behind his ear. Long, bony, slightly stooped, he slowly walked along the stones and, moving his humped, predatory nose, cast sharp glances around him, glistening with cold gray eyes and looking for someone among the movers. His brown mustache, thick and long, twitched every now and then, like a cat’s, and his hands behind his back rubbed each other, nervously twisting their long, crooked and tenacious fingers. Even here, among hundreds of sharp tramp figures just like him, he immediately attracted attention with his resemblance to a steppe hawk, his predatory thinness and this aiming gait, smooth and calm in appearance, but internally excited and vigilant as a year old. the bird of prey he resembled. When he reached one of the groups of tramp loaders sitting in the shade under a pile of baskets of coal, a stocky fellow with a stupid, purple-spotted face and a scratched neck, who must have been recently beaten, stood up to meet him. He stood up and walked next to Chelkash, saying in a low voice: “The navy has missed the two places of manufacture... They are looking.” -- Well? - Chelkash asked, calmly measuring him with his eyes. - What - well? They are looking, they say. Nothing more. - Did they ask me to help look? And Chelkash looked with a smile at where the warehouse of the Voluntary Fleet stood. - Go to hell! The comrade turned back. - Hey, wait! Who decorated you? Look how they ruined the sign... Have you seen the bear here? - I haven’t seen you for a long time! - he shouted, leaving to join his comrades. Chelkash walked on, greeted by everyone as if he were a well-known person. But he, always cheerful and caustic, was obviously not in a good mood today and answered questions abruptly and sharply. From somewhere, due to the riot of goods, a customs guard turned out, dark green, dusty and militantly straight. He blocked Chelkash's path, standing in front of him in a defiant pose, grabbing the handle of the cutlass with his left hand, and trying to take Chelkash by the collar with his right hand. - Stop! Where are you going? Chelkash took a step back, raised his eyes to the watchman and smiled dryly. The red, good-natured, cunning face of the serviceman tried to portray a menacing face, for which it puffed up, became round, purple, moved its eyebrows, widened its eyes and was very funny. “I told you, don’t you dare go into the harbor, I’ll break your ribs!” And you again? - the watchman shouted menacingly. - Hello, Semenych! “We haven’t seen each other for a long time,” Chelkash calmly greeted him and extended his hand. - I wish I wouldn’t see you again for a century! Go, go!.. But Semenych still shook the outstretched hand. “Tell me what,” Chelkash continued, not letting go of Semyonich’s hand from his tenacious fingers and shaking it in a friendly, familiar manner, “have you seen Mishka?” - What kind of bear? I don’t know any Mishka! Get out, brother, get out! otherwise the warehouse guy will see, he’s the one... “Ryzhiy, with whom I worked last time at Kostroma,” Chelkash stood his ground. - With whom you steal together, that’s how you say it! They took him to the hospital, your Mishka, his leg was crushed by a cast iron bayonet. Come, brother, while they are asking for honor, come, otherwise I’ll hit you in the neck!.. - Yeah, look! and you say - I don’t know Mishka... You know. Why are you so angry, Semenych?.. - That’s it, don’t talk your teeth into me, but go!.. The watchman began to get angry and, looking around, tried to snatch his hand from Chelkash’s strong hand. Chelkash calmly looked at him from under his thick eyebrows and, without letting go of his hand, continued to talk: “Don’t rush me.” I'll talk to you enough and leave. Well, tell me, how are you living?.. are your wife and children healthy? - And, his eyes sparkling, he bared his teeth with a mocking smile and added: - I’m going to visit you, but I don’t have time - I’m drinking everything... - Well, well, - you give it up! Don't joke, you bony devil! I, brother, really...Are you really going to rob the houses and the streets? -- For what? And here there is enough goodness for our lifetime. By God, that's enough, Semenych! Do you hear, you’ve sacked two manufacturing places again?.. Look, Semenych, be careful! Don’t get caught somehow!.. The indignant Semenych shook, splashing saliva and trying to say something. Chelkash let go of his hand and calmly walked with his long legs back to the gates of the harbor. The watchman, cursing furiously, moved after him. Chelkash became cheerful; he whistled quietly through his teeth and, with his hands in his pants pockets, walked slowly, making caustic laughs and jokes right and left. He was paid the same. - Look, Grishka, the authorities are so protective of you! - someone shouted from the crowd of movers who had already had lunch and were lying on the ground, resting. “I’m barefoot, so Semenych is watching so that he doesn’t hurt my leg,” Chelkash answered. We approached the gate. Two soldiers groped Chelkash and gently pushed him out into the street. Chelkash crossed the road and sat down on the bedside table opposite the doors of the tavern. A line of loaded carts rumbled out of the harbor gates. Empty carts with cab drivers jumping on them rushed towards them. The harbor was spewing out howling thunder and acrid dust... In this frantic commotion, Chelkash felt great. A solid income was ahead of him, requiring a little work and a lot of dexterity. He was sure that he had enough dexterity, and, squinting his eyes, dreamed of how he would go on a spree tomorrow morning, when credit notes would appear in his pocket... I remembered my comrade, Mishka, - he would be very useful tonight if I didn't break my leg. Chelkash swore under his breath, thinking that he probably wouldn’t be able to handle the matter alone, without Mishka. What will the night be like?.. He looked at the sky and along the street. About six paces from him, by the sidewalk, on the pavement, leaning his back against a bedside table, sat a young guy in a blue motley shirt, matching pants, bast shoes and a tattered red cap. Near him lay a small knapsack and a scythe without a handle, wrapped in a bundle of straw, neatly twisted with a rope. The guy was broad-shouldered, stocky, fair-haired, with a tanned and weather-beaten face and large blue eyes that looked at Chelkash trustingly and good-naturedly. Chelkash bared his teeth, stuck out his tongue and, making a terrible face, stared at him with wide eyes. The guy, at first perplexed, blinked, but then suddenly burst out laughing and shouted through his laughter: “Oh, eccentric!” - and, almost without getting up from the ground, he awkwardly rolled from his bedside table to Chelkash’s bedside table, dragging his knapsack through the dust and tapping the heel of his braid on the stones. “What a great walk, brother, apparently!” he turned to Chelkash, tugging at his trouser leg. - It was a thing, sucker, it was such a thing! - Chelkash confessed, smiling. He immediately liked this healthy, good-natured guy with childish bright eyes. - From the cornfield, or what? - Of course!.. They mowed a mile away - they mowed down a penny. Things are bad! There are a lot of people! This same starving man trudged along - they knocked down the price, don’t worry about it! They paid six hryvnia in Kuban. Deeds!.. And before, they say, the price was three rubles, four, five!.. - Previously!.. Previously, they paid three rubles for just looking at a Russian person. About ten years ago I did this very thing. When you come to the village, I’m Russian, they say! Now they will look at you, touch you, marvel at you and - get three rubles! Let them drink and feed. And live as long as you want! The guy, listening to Chelkash, at first opened his mouth wide, expressing bewildered admiration on his round face, but then, realizing that the ragamuffin was lying, he slapped his lips and laughed. Chelkash kept a serious face, hiding a smile in his mustache. - Oddball, you seem to be telling the truth, but I listen and believe... No, by God, before there... - Well, what am I talking about? After all, I also say that, they say, there before... - Go away!.. - the guy waved his hand. - Shoemaker, or what? Ali a tailor?.. Are you? - Me? - Chelkash asked again and, after thinking, said: - I’m a fisherman... - Fish-ak! Look! Well, are you fishing?.. - Why fish? The local fishermen catch more than one fish. More drowned people, old anchors, sunken ships - everything! There are such fishing rods for this... - Lie, lie!.. Of those fishermen, perhaps, who sing to themselves: We cast nets Along dry banks, Yes, along barns, in cages!.. - Have you seen such people? - Chelkash asked, looking at him with a grin. - No, you can see where! I heard... - Do you like it? - Are they? Of course!.. It’s okay guys, free, free... - What do you mean - freedom?.. Do you really love freedom? - But how can it be? You are your own boss, go wherever you want, do whatever you want... Of course! If you manage to keep yourself in order, and there are no stones on your neck, that’s the first thing! Walk as you please, just remember God... Chelkash spat contemptuously and turned away from the guy. “Now this is my business...” he said. “My father has died, my farm is small, my mother is an old woman, the land has been sucked out, what should I do?” You have to live. How? Unknown. I'll go to my son-in-law nice house . OK. If only they singled out their daughter!.. No, the devil father-in-law won’t single her out. Well, I’ll be bothering him... for a long time... Years! Look, what's going on! And if I could earn a hundred and a half rubles, I would now get up on my feet and - Antipas - bite, bite! Do you want to highlight Marfa? No? No need! Thank God, she is not the only girl in the village. And that means I would be completely free, on my own... No, yes! - The guy sighed. “And now there’s nothing you can do except become a son-in-law.” I thought: I’ll go to Kuban, grab two hundred rubles, it’s a sabbath! master!.. AN didn’t burn out. Well, you’ll go to work as a farm laborer... I won’t improve with my farming, not at all! Ehe-he!.. The guy really didn’t want to become a son-in-law. Even his face grew sad. He shifted heavily on the ground. Chelkash asked: “Now where are you going?” - But where? you know, home. - Well, brother, I don’t know this, maybe you’re planning to go to Turkey. “To Tu-Turkey!..” the guy drawled. - Who of the Orthodox goes there? He said that too!.. - What a fool you are! - Chelkash sighed and turned away from his interlocutor again. This healthy village guy awakened something in him... A vague, slowly brewing, annoying feeling was swarming somewhere deep and prevented him from concentrating and thinking about what needed to be done that night. The scolded guy muttered something in a low voice, occasionally casting sidelong glances at the tramp. His cheeks puffed out funny, his lips protruded, and his narrowed eyes blinked somehow too often and funny. He obviously did not expect that his conversation with this mustachioed ragamuffin would end so quickly and offensively. The ragged man paid no more attention to him. He whistled thoughtfully, sitting on the nightstand and beating time with his bare, dirty heel. The guy wanted to get even with him. - Hey you, fisherman! How often do you drink it? - he began, but at the same moment the fisherman quickly turned his face to him, asking him: - Listen, sucker! Do you want to work with me tonight? Speak quickly! - Why work? - the guy asked incredulously. - Well, what!.. Why will I make you... Let's go catch fish. You will row... - So... What then? Nothing. You can work. Only now... I wouldn’t want to get into trouble with you. You’re painfully convoluted... you’re dark... Chelkash felt something like a burn in his chest and said in a low voice with cold anger: “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.” I’ll hit you in the head, then it will lighten up in you... He jumped off the bedside table, pulled his mustache with his left hand, clenched his right hand into a hard, sinewy fist, and his eyes sparkled. The guy was scared. He quickly looked around and, blinking timidly, also jumped up from the ground. Measuring each other with their eyes, they were silent. -- Well? - Chelkash asked sternly. He seethed and shuddered from the insult inflicted on him by this young calf, whom he had despised during the conversation with him, and now immediately hated because he had such pure blue eyes, a healthy tanned face, short strong hands , for the fact that he has a village somewhere there, a house in it, for the fact that a wealthy man invites him to be his son-in-law - for his entire life, past and future, and most of all for the fact that he, this child, Compared to him, Chelkash, he dares to love freedom, which he does not know the price of and which he does not need. It is always unpleasant to see that a person whom you consider inferior and inferior to you loves or hates the same things as you, and thus becomes like you. The guy looked at Chelkash and felt the owner in him. “After all, I... wouldn’t mind...” he began. - I’m looking for work. I don’t care who I work for, you or someone else. I just said that you don’t look like a working man, you’re too... tattered. Well, I know that this can happen to anyone. Lord, I haven’t seen any drunkards! Oh, so many!.. and not even people like you. - Well, okay, okay! Agree? - Chelkash asked more softly. - Me? Aida!.. with my pleasure! Tell me the price. - My price is based on my work. What kind of work will it be? What a catch, then... You can get a fiver. Understood? But now it was about money, and here the peasant wanted to be precise and demanded the same accuracy from the employer. The guy's distrust and suspicion flared up again. - This is not my hand, brother! Chelkash got into character: “Don’t talk, wait!” Let's go to the tavern! And they walked down the street next to each other, Chelkash with an important face of the owner, twirling his mustache, the guy with an expression of complete readiness to obey, but still full of mistrust and fear. -What's your name? - asked Chelkash. - Gavril! - the guy answered. When they arrived at the dirty and smoky tavern, Chelkash, going up to the buffet, in the familiar tone of a regular, ordered a bottle of vodka, cabbage soup, roasted meat, tea and, having listed what was required, briefly said to the bartender: “On credit for everything!” - to which the barman silently nodded his head. Here Gavrila was immediately filled with respect for his master, who, despite his appearance as a swindler, enjoys such fame and trust. - Well, now we’ll have a bite and talk properly. While you sit, I'll go somewhere. He left. Gavrila looked around. The tavern was located in the basement; it was damp, dark, and the whole place was full of the suffocating smell of burnt vodka, tobacco smoke, tar and something else pungent. Opposite Gavrila, at another table, sat a drunken man in a sailor's suit, with a red beard, covered in coal dust and tar. He purred, hiccupping every minute, a song, all of some interrupted and broken words, sometimes terribly hissing, sometimes guttural. He was obviously not Russian. Two Moldavian women fit behind him; ragged, black-haired, tanned, they also creaked the song in drunken voices. Then different figures emerged from the darkness, all strangely disheveled, all half-drunk, loud, restless... Gavrila felt terrified. He wanted the owner to come back soon. The noise in the tavern merged into one note, and it seemed that it was some huge animal growling, it, possessing a hundred different voices, was irritated, blindly rushing out of this stone pit and did not find a way out... Gavrila felt as if his body was absorbed by something intoxicating and painful, which made his head spin and his eyes blurred, running around the tavern with curiosity and fear... Chelkash came, and they began to eat and drink, talking. After the third glass, Gavrila became drunk. He felt happy and wanted to say something nice to his master, who is a nice man! - treated him so deliciously. But the words, which poured into his throat in waves, for some reason did not leave his tongue, which suddenly became heavy. Chelkash looked at him and, smiling mockingly, said: “I got drunk!.. Eh, prison!” from five glasses!.. how will you work?.. - Friend!.. - Gavrila babbled. - Don't be afraid! I will respect you!.. Let me kiss you!.. huh?.. - Well, well!.. Here, take another bite! Gavrila drank and finally got to the point where everything in his eyes began to fluctuate with even, wave-like movements. It was unpleasant and it made me sick. His face became stupidly delighted. Trying to say something, he smacked his lips funny and hummed. Chelkash, looking intently at him, as if remembering something, twirled his mustache and kept smiling gloomily. And the tavern roared with drunken noise. The red-haired sailor was sleeping with his elbows on the table. - Come on, let's go! - said Chelkash, getting up. Gavrila tried to get up, but couldn’t and, cursing loudly, laughed the senseless laughter of a drunk. - It's fun! - said Chelkash, again sitting down on the chair opposite him. Gavrila kept laughing, looking at the owner with dull eyes. And he looked at him intently, vigilantly and thoughtfully. He saw before him a man whose life had fallen into his wolf's clutches. He, Chelkash, felt able to turn her this way and that way. He could break it like playing card, and could help her establish herself within a strong peasant framework. Feeling like the master of another, he thought that this guy would never drink such a cup as fate had given him, Chelkash, to drink... And he envied and regretted this young life, laughed at her and was even upset for her, imagining, that she could once again fall into hands like his... And all Chelkash’s feelings eventually merged into one thing - something fatherly and economic. I felt sorry for the little one, and the little one was needed. Then Chelkash took Gavrila under the armpits and, lightly pushing him from behind with his knee, led him out into the tavern yard, where he piled firewood on the ground in the shade of a woodpile, and he sat down next to him and lit a pipe. Gavrila fidgeted a little, hummed and fell asleep. - Well, are you ready? - Chelkash asked Gavrila in a low voice, who was fiddling with the oars. -- Now! The oarlock is wobbly, can I hit it with the oar once? - No, no! No noise! Press it harder with your hands, and it will go into place. Both of them were quietly busy with the boat, tied to the stern of one of a whole flotilla of sailing barges loaded with oak staves, and large Turkish feluccas, occupied by palm, sandal and thick ridges of cypress. The night was dark, thick layers of shaggy clouds moved across the sky, the sea was calm, black and thick, like oil. It breathed a damp salty aroma and sounded tenderly, splashing from the sides of the ships on the shore, slightly rocking Chelkash’s boat. The dark skeletons of ships rose from the sea to a distant space from the shore, piercing sharp masts with multi-colored lanterns on the tops into the sky. The sea reflected the lights of the lanterns and was dotted with a mass of yellow spots. They fluttered beautifully on his velvet, soft, matte black. The sea slept in the healthy, sound sleep of a worker who was very tired during the day. - Let's go! - said Gavrila, lowering the oars into the water. -- Eat! - Chelkash, with a strong blow of the rudder, pushed the boat into the strip of water between the barges, it quickly floated along the slippery water, and the water under the blows of the oars lit up with a bluish phosphorescent glow - its long ribbon, sparkling softly, curled behind the stern. - Well, what about your head? hurts? - Chelkash asked affectionately. - Passion!.. like cast iron hums... I’ll wet it with water now. -- For what? Just soak your insides, maybe you’ll come to your senses sooner,” and he handed Gavrila the bottle. - Oh? God bless!.. A quiet gurgling sound was heard. - Hey you! happy?.. Will be! - Chelkash stopped him. The boat rushed off again, silently and easily turning among the ships... Suddenly it broke away from their crowd, and the sea - endless, powerful - unfolded before them, going into the blue distance, where from its waters mountains of clouds rose into the sky - lilac -gray-gray, with yellow downy edges, greenish, color sea water , and those boring, leaden clouds that cast such dreary, heavy shadows. The clouds crawled slowly, now merging, now overtaking each other, mixing their colors and shapes, absorbing themselves and re-emerging in new shapes, majestic and gloomy... There was something fatal in this slow movement of soulless masses. It seemed that there, at the edge of the sea, there were an infinite number of them and they would always so indifferently crawl into the sky, setting the evil goal of never allowing it to ever again shine over the sleepy sea with millions of their golden eyes - multi-colored stars, alive and dreamily shining, exciting the high desires in people who cherish their pure brilliance. - Is the sea good? - asked Chelkash. -- Nothing! “It’s just scary in him,” Gavrila answered, striking the water evenly and firmly with his oars. The water rang and splashed faintly under the blows of the long oars, and everything sparkled with the warm blue light of phosphorus. - Scary! What a fool!.. - Chelkash growled mockingly. He, a thief, loved the sea. His seething nervous nature, greedy for impressions, was never satiated by the contemplation of this dark breadth, endless, free and powerful. And he was offended to hear such an answer to the question about the beauty of what he loved. Sitting in the stern, he cut the water with the rudder and looked ahead calmly, full of desire to ride long and far along this velvet surface. At sea, a broad, warm feeling always arose in him - embracing his entire soul, it cleansed it a little from everyday filth. He appreciated this and loved to see himself as the best here, among the water and air, where thoughts about life and life itself always lose - the former - their sharpness, the latter - their value. At night, the soft sound of his sleepy breath floats smoothly over the sea, this immense sound infuses calm into a person’s soul and, gently taming its evil impulses, gives birth to powerful dreams in it... - Where is the tackle? - Gavrila suddenly asked, looking around the boat restlessly. Chelkash shuddered. - Tackle? She's on my stern. But he felt offended to lie in front of this boy, and he felt sorry for those thoughts and feelings that this guy destroyed with his question. He got angry. The familiar sharp burning sensation in his chest and throat shuddered at him, and he said impressively and harshly to Gavrila: “That’s what you’re doing – you’re sitting, just sit!” Don't stick your nose into your own business. They hired you to row, and row. And if you wag your tongue, it will be bad. Do you understand?.. For a minute the boat trembled and stopped. The oars remained in the water, foaming it, and Gavrila fidgeted restlessly on the bench. - Row! A sharp curse shook the air. Gavrila waved his oars. The boat seemed to be frightened and moved with quick, nervous jerks, noisily cutting through the water. - More evenly!.. Chelkash stood up from the stern, without letting go of the oars in his hands and fixing his cold eyes on Gavrila’s pale face. Curved and leaning forward, he looked like a cat ready to jump. You could hear the angry grinding of teeth and the timid clicking of some knuckles. - Who is screaming? - a stern shout came from the sea. - Well, devil, row!.. be quiet!.. I’ll kill the dog!.. Come on, row!.. One, two! Just make a sound!.. I’ll tear it apart!.. - Chelkash hissed. “Theotokos... virgin...” whispered Gavrila, trembling and exhausted from fear and effort. The boat turned smoothly and went back to the harbor, where the lights of the lanterns crowded into a multi-colored group and the trunks of the masts were visible. -- Hey! who's yelling? - it came again. Now the voice was further away than the first time. Chelkash calmed down. - You’re the one yelling! - he said in the direction of the screams and then turned to Gavrila, who was still whispering a prayer: - Well, brother, happiness is yours! If these devils chased us, you would be finished. Can you hear it? I would take you straight to the fishes!.. Now, when Chelkash spoke calmly and even good-naturedly, Gavrila, still trembling with fear, begged: “Listen, let me go!” I ask Christ, let me go! Drop me off somewhere! Ay-ay-ay!.. I'm completely lost!.. Well, remember God, let go! What am I to you? I can’t do this!.. I’ve never been in such cases... First time... Lord! I'll be lost! How did you, brother, bypass me? A? It's a sin for you!.. You're ruining your soul!.. Well, what's going on... - What's going on? - Chelkash asked sternly. -- A? Well, what's up? He was amused by the guy’s fear, and he enjoyed both Gavrila’s fear and the fact that this is what he, Chelkash, is a formidable person. - Dark things, brother... Let it go for God's sake!.. What am I to you?.. huh?.. Darling... - Well, shut up! If you weren't needed, I wouldn't take you. Understood? - well, shut up! -- God! - Gavrila sighed. - Well, well!.. bite me! - Chelkash interrupted him. But now Gavrila could no longer restrain himself and, quietly sobbing, cried, blew his nose, fidgeted around the bench, but rowed strongly, desperately. The boat rushed like an arrow. Again the dark hulls of ships stood on the road, and the boat got lost in them, spinning like a top in the narrow strips of water between the sides. - Hey you! Listen! If anyone asks you about anything, keep quiet if you want to be alive! Understood? - Ehma!.. - Gavrila sighed hopelessly in response to the stern order and added bitterly: - My fate is lost!.. - Don’t whine! - Chelkash whispered impressively. From this whisper, Gavrila lost the ability to think anything and died, overcome by a cold foreboding of trouble. He automatically lowered the oars into the water, leaned back, took them out, threw them again and all the time stubbornly looked at his sandals. The sleepy sound of the waves hummed gloomily and was scary. Here is the harbor... Behind its granite wall one could hear human voices, the splashing of water, a song and thin whistles. - Stop! - Chelkash whispered. - Drop the oars! Put your hands against the wall! Hush, damn it!.. Gavrila, clinging to the slippery stone with his hands, led the boat along the wall. The boat moved without a rustle, sliding its side over the mucus that had grown on the stone. - Stop!.. Give me the oars! Give it here! Where is your passport? In a knapsack? Give me the knapsack! Well, come on quickly! This, dear friend, is so that you don’t run away... Now you won’t run away. Without oars you could somehow escape, but without a passport you’ll be afraid. Wait! But look, if you make a sound, I’ll find you at the bottom of the sea!.. And suddenly, clinging to something with his hands, Chelkash rose into the air and disappeared on the wall. Gavrila shuddered... It happened so quickly. He felt that damned weight and fear that he felt with this mustachioed, thin thief falling off him, sliding away... Run now!.. And he, sighing freely, looked around. To the left stood a black building without masts - some kind of huge coffin, deserted and empty... Each blow of a wave in his sides gave birth to a dull, echoing echo in him, similar to a heavy sigh. To the right, over the water, the damp stone wall of the pier stretched like a cold, heavy snake. Some black skeletons were also visible behind, and in front, through the hole between the wall and the side of this coffin, the sea was visible, silent, deserted, with black clouds above it. They moved slowly, huge, heavy, exuding horror from the darkness and ready to crush a person with their weight. Everything was cold, black, ominous. Gavrila became scared. This fear was worse than the fear inspired by Chelkash; he wrapped his arms around Gavrila's chest, squeezed him into a timid ball and chained him to the bench of the boat... And everything around was silent. Not a sound except the sighs of the sea. The clouds crawled across the sky as slowly and boringly as before, but more and more of them rose from the sea, and one could, looking at the sky, think that it was also a sea, only a sea agitated and overturned over another, sleepy, calm and smooth. The clouds looked like waves rushing down to the ground in curly gray ridges, and like abysses from which these waves were torn out by the wind, and like nascent ramparts, not yet covered with the greenish foam of rage and anger. Gavrila felt crushed by this gloomy silence and beauty and felt that he wanted to see the owner as soon as possible. What if he stays there? .. Time passed slowly, slower than the clouds crawling across the sky... And the silence, over time, became more and more ominous... But behind the wall of the pier a splashing, rustling and something similar to a whisper was heard. It seemed to Gavrila that he was going to die... - Hey! Are you sleeping? Hold it!.. be careful!.. - Chelkash’s dull voice rang out. Something cubical and heavy was coming down from the wall. Gavrila took it into the boat. Another one like that came down. Then the long figure of Chelkash stretched across the wall, oars appeared from somewhere, his knapsack fell at Gavrila’s feet, and Chelkash, breathing heavily, sat down at the stern. Gavrila smiled joyfully and timidly, looking at him. -- Tired? he asked. - Not without that, calf! Come on, good combs! Blow with all your might!.. Well done, brother! Half the battle done. Now you just have to swim between the devils' eyes, and then get the money and go to your Masha. Do you have a Masha? Hey baby? - N-no! - Gavrila tried with all his might, working with his chest like bellows and his arms like steel springs. The water rumbled under the boat, and the blue stripe behind the stern was now wider. Gavrila was drenched in sweat, but continued to row with all his might. Having experienced such fear twice that night, he was now afraid to experience it a third time and wanted one thing: to quickly finish this damned work, go down to earth and run away from this man before he actually killed him or brought him to prison. He decided not to talk to him about anything, not to contradict him, to do everything he ordered, and, if he could safely get rid of him, to serve a prayer service to St. Nicholas the Wonderworker tomorrow. A passionate prayer was ready to pour out of his chest. But he restrained himself, puffed like a steam engine, and was silent, casting glances from under his brows at Chelkash. And he, dry, long, bent forward and looking like a bird ready to fly somewhere, looked into the darkness ahead of the boat with hawk eyes and, moving his predatory, humped nose, tenaciously held the steering wheel with one hand, and with the other fiddled with his mustache, which trembled with smiles , which curled his thin lips. Chelkash was pleased with his luck, with himself and with this guy, who was so intimidated by him and turned into his slave. He watched how Gavrila tried, and he felt sorry and wanted to encourage him. -- Hey! - He spoke quietly, grinning. - What, are you really scared? A? “N-nothing!..” Gavrila gasped and grunted. - Well, now don’t put too much weight on the oars. Now the Sabbath. There’s just one more place to go... Take a rest... Gavrila obediently stopped, wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt sleeve and lowered the oars into the water again. - Well, row more quietly so that the water doesn’t talk. One gate must be passed. Hush, hush... Otherwise, brother, the people here are serious... They can just play pranks with a gun. They'll get such a bump on your forehead that you won't even groan. The boat now crept through the water almost completely silently. Only blue drops dripped from the oars, and when they fell into the sea, at the place where they fell, a blue spot also flashed for a short time. The night became darker and more silent. Now the sky no longer resembled a troubled sea - the clouds spread across it and covered it with an even, heavy canopy, hanging low above the water and motionless. And the sea became even calmer, blacker, smelled stronger of a warm, salty smell and no longer seemed as wide as before. - Oh, if only it would rain! - Chelkash whispered. - So we would have passed, as if behind a curtain. To the left and right of the boat, some buildings rose out of the black water - barges, motionless, gloomy and also black. On one of them there was a fire moving, someone was walking with a lantern. The sea, stroking their sides, sounded pleading and dull, and they answered it with an echo, loud and cold, as if they were arguing, not wanting to give in to him on something. - Cordons!.. - Chelkash whispered barely audibly. From the moment he ordered Gavrila to row more quietly, Gavrila was again seized by an acute expectant tension. He leaned forward, into the darkness, and it seemed to him that he was growing - the bones and veins stretched out in him with a dull pain, his head, filled with one thought, ached, the skin on his back trembled, and small, sharp and cold ones pierced his legs. needles. His eyes ached from intensely looking at the darkness, from which - he was waiting - something was about to rise and bark at them: “Stop, thieves!..” Now, when Chelkash whispered “cordons!”, Gavrila trembled: a sharp, burning thought passed through him, passed through and touched his tightly stretched nerves - he wanted to shout, call people to help him... He had already opened his mouth and stood up a little on the bench, stuck out his chest, took in a lot of air and opened his mouth - - but suddenly, struck by the horror that hit him like a whip, he closed his eyes and fell off the bench. ... Ahead of the boat, far on the horizon, a huge fiery blue sword rose from the black water of the sea, rose, cut through the darkness of the night, slid its tip across the clouds in the sky and lay on the chest of the sea in a wide, blue stripe. He lay down, and into the band of his radiance, ships that had been invisible until that time floated out of the darkness, black, silent, hung with a lush darkness of the night. It seemed that they had been at the bottom of the sea for a long time, drawn there by the mighty force of the storm, and now they rose from there at the behest of the fiery sword born of the sea - they rose to look at the sky and at everything that was above the water. .. Their rigging hugged the masts and seemed like tenacious algae rising from the bottom along with these black giants entangled in their network. And he again rose upward from the depths of the sea, this terrible blue sword, rose, sparkling, again cut through the night and again lay down in a different direction. And where he lay down, the skeletons of ships, invisible before his appearance, again surfaced. Chelkash's boat stopped and wavered on the water, as if perplexed. Gavrila lay on the bottom, covering his face with his hands, and Chelkash pushed him with his foot and hissed furiously, but quietly: “Fool, this is a customs cruiser... This is an electric lantern!.. Get up, you dumbass!” After all, they will throw light on us now!.. You will destroy both yourself and me, devil! Well!.. And finally, when one of the blows of the heel of his boot landed harder than the others on Gavrila’s back, he jumped up, still afraid to open his eyes, sat down on the bench and, gropingly grabbing the oars, moved the boat. -- Quiet! I'll kill you! Well, be quiet!.. What a fool, damn you!.. What are you afraid of? Well? Kharya!.. A lantern - that's all. Quiet the oars!.. Sour devil!.. They are monitoring the smuggling. They won't hit us - they've sailed far. Don't be afraid, they won't hurt you. Now we... - Chelkash looked around triumphantly. - It’s over, we swam out! He could not believe Chelkash that it was only a lantern. The cold blue light that cut through the darkness, making the sea glow with a silver sheen, had something inexplicable in it, and Gavrila again fell into the hypnosis of melancholy fear. He rowed like a machine, and kept shrinking, as if expecting a blow from above, and there was nothing, no desire in him anymore - he was empty and soulless. The unrest of that night finally ate everything human out of him. And Chelkash was triumphant. His nerves, accustomed to shock, had already calmed down. His mustache twitched voluptuously and a twinkle flared in his eyes. He felt great, whistled through his teeth, deeply inhaled the moist air of the sea, looked around and smiled good-naturedly when his eyes rested on Gavril. The wind rushed and awakened the sea, which suddenly began to sparkle with frequent swells. The clouds seemed to become thinner and more transparent, but the entire sky was covered with them. Despite the fact that the wind, although still light, rushed freely over the sea, the clouds were motionless and seemed to be thinking about some kind of gray, boring Duma. - Well, brother, come to your senses, it’s time! Look at you - it’s as if all the spirit has been squeezed out of your skin, only a bag of bones remains! It's the end of everything. Hey!.. Gavrila was still pleased to hear a human voice, even though it was Chelkash who spoke. “I hear,” he said quietly. - That's it! Crumb... Well, sit on the steering wheel, and I’ll take the oars, I’m tired, go ahead! Gavrila automatically changed his place. When Chelkash, changing places with him, looked into his face and noticed that he was staggering on trembling legs, he felt even more sorry for the guy. He patted him on the shoulder. - Well, well, don’t be shy! But he made good money. I will reward you richly, brother. Do you want to get a quarter ticket? A? - I don’t need anything. If only I could go ashore... Chelkash waved his hand, spat and began to row, throwing the oars far back with his long arms. The sea has woken up. It played with small waves, giving birth to them, decorating them with a fringe of foam, pushing them against each other and breaking them into fine dust. The foam melted, hissed and sighed - and everything around was filled with musical noise and splashing. The darkness seemed to become more alive. “Well, tell me,” said Chelkash, “you will come to the village, get married, start digging the earth, sowing grain, your wife will give birth to children, there will not be enough food; Well, you'll be trying your best all your life... Well, so what? Is there a lot of gusto in this? - What a relish! - Gavrila answered timidly and shuddering. Here and there the wind broke through the clouds, and blue pieces of the sky with one or two stars on them looked out from the gaps. Reflected by the playing sea, these stars jumped on the waves, then disappearing, then shining again. - Keep to the right! - said Chelkash. - We'll be there soon. Nah!.. Finished. The work is important! You see how?.. One night - and I snatched half a thousand! - Half a thousand?! - Gavrila drawled incredulously, but immediately got scared and quickly asked, pushing the bales in the boat with his foot: “What kind of thing will this be?” - This is an expensive thing. Anyway, if you sell it at a price, it will be enough for a thousand. Well, I'm not precious... Clever? “N-yes?...” Gavrila drawled questioningly. - If only I could do this! - he sighed, immediately remembering the village, the wretched household, his mother and everything distant, dear, for which he went to work, for which he was so exhausted that night. He was overcome by a wave of memories of his village, running down a steep mountain to a river hidden in a grove of birches, willows, rowan trees, bird cherry trees... - Eh, that would be important!.. - he sighed sadly. - N-yes!.. I think you would go home right now... The girls at home would love you, oh, how!.. Take any one! I would ruin my house - well, let’s say there’s not enough money for a house... - That’s true... there’s not enough money for a house. The forest is dear to us. - Well then? The old one would have been corrected. How's the horse? There is? -- Horse? She is, but she’s too old, damn it. - Well, that means it’s a horse. Hahahaha horse! A cow... Sheep... Various birds... Eh? - Don’t talk!.. Oh, my God! I wish I could live! - Well, brother, life would be wow... I also understand a lot about this matter. There once was a nest... My father was one of the first rich people in the village... Chelkash rowed slowly. The boat swayed on the waves, playfully splashing against its sides, barely moved through the dark sea, and it played more and more frolicly. Two people dreamed, swaying on the water and looking around them thoughtfully. Chelkash began to make Gavrila think about the village, wanting to cheer him up and calm him down a little. At first he spoke, chuckling into his mustache, but then, giving remarks to his interlocutor and reminding him of the joys of peasant life, in which he himself had long been disappointed, forgot about them and remembered only now - he gradually got carried away and instead of asking the guy about the village and its affairs, unbeknownst to himself, he began to tell him: “The main thing in peasant life is, brother, freedom!” You are your own boss. You have your house - it’s worth nothing - but it’s yours. You have your own land - and even a handful of it - but it’s yours! You are a king on your own land!.. You have a face... You can demand respect from everyone for you... Is that right? - Chelkash finished enthusiastically. Gavrila looked at him with curiosity and was also inspired. During this conversation, he had already forgotten who he was dealing with, and saw before him a peasant like himself, stuck forever to the earth after many generations, connected with it by childhood memories, voluntarily separated from it and from worries about it and suffered due punishment for this absence. - This, brother, is true! Oh, how true! Look at yourself, what are you now without land? You will not forget the earth, brother, like your mother for a long time. Chelkash came to his senses... He felt this irritating burning sensation in his chest, which always appeared as soon as his pride - the pride of a reckless daredevil - was hurt by someone, and especially by someone who had no value in his eyes. - Grinded!.. - he said fiercely, - you might have thought that I was serious about all this... Keep your pocket wider! “What an eccentric man!” Gavrila again became shy. - Am I talking about you? Tea, there are a lot of people like you! Oh, how many unfortunate people there are in the world!.. Staggering... - Sit down, seal, in the oars! - Chelkash briefly commanded, for some reason holding back a whole stream of hot abuse that rushed to his throat. They changed places again, and Chelkash, climbing over the bales to the stern, felt a strong desire to give Gavrila a kick so that he would fly into the water. The short conversation fell silent, but now even from Gavrila’s silence, Chelkash smelled of the village... He recalled the past, forgetting to steer the boat, which had been turned by the excitement and was sailing somewhere out to sea. The waves understood for sure that this boat had lost its target, and, throwing it higher and higher, they easily played with it, flashing under the oars with its gentle blue fire. And in front of Chelkash, pictures of the past, the distant past, separated from the present by an entire wall of eleven years of tramp life, quickly flashed. He managed to see himself as a child, his village, his mother, a red-cheeked, plump woman with kind gray eyes, his father - a red-bearded giant with a stern face; he saw himself as a groom and saw his wife, black-eyed Anfisa, with a long braid, plump, soft, cheerful, again himself, a handsome man, a guards soldier; again the father, already gray-haired and bent by work, and the mother, wrinkled, sagging to the ground; I also looked at the picture of the village greeting him when he returned from service; I saw how proud my father was in front of the whole village of his Gregory, a mustachioed, healthy soldier, a dexterous handsome man... Memory, this scourge of the unfortunate, revives even the stones of the past and even adds drops of honey to the poison once drunk... Chelkash felt himself covered in reconciling , a gentle stream of native air, which brought to his ears the tender words of his mother, and the respectable speeches of a devout peasant father, many forgotten sounds and a lot of the rich smell of mother earth, just thawed, just plowed and just covered with emerald winter silk ... He felt alone, torn out and thrown out forever from the order of life in which the blood that flows in his veins was developed. -- Hey! where are we going? - Gavrila suddenly asked. Chelkash trembled and looked around with the anxious gaze of a predator. - Damn it!.. The combs should be thicker... - Thinking? - Gavrila asked, smiling. - Tired... - So now we won’t get caught with this? - Gavrila poked his foot into the bales. - No... Be calm. Now I’ll rent it out and get the money... Nah! - Five hundred? - No less. - This, that, is the amount! If only I, I grieve!.. Oh, and I would play a song with them!.. - For the peasantry? - No more! Now... And Gavrila flew on the wings of a dream. But Chelkash was silent. His mustache drooped, his right side, overwhelmed by the waves, was wet, his eyes were sunken and lost their shine. Everything predatory in his figure went limp, obscured by the humiliated thoughtfulness that looked even from the folds of his dirty shirt. He turned the boat sharply and directed it towards something black protruding from the water. The sky was again completely covered with clouds, and rain began to fall, fine, warm, tinkling cheerfully as it fell on the crests of the waves. - Stop! Quiet! - Chelkash commanded. The boat hit its bow against the hull of the barge. “Are the devils asleep, or what?...” Chelkash grumbled, clinging to some ropes hanging down from the side with his hook. - Come on!.. It’s still raining, it couldn’t have happened sooner! Hey you sponges!.. Hey!.. - Is this Selkash? - a gentle purring came from above. - Well, lower the ladder! - Kalimera, Selkash! - Lower the ladder, smoked devil! - Chelkash roared. - Oh, the angry one came today... Elou! - Climb, Gavrila! - Chelkash turned to his comrade. In a minute they were on the deck, where three dark bearded figures, animatedly chatting with each other in a strange lisping language, looked overboard into Chelkash’s boat. The fourth, wrapped in a long robe, approached him and silently shook his hand, then looked suspiciously at Gavrila. “Save some money for the morning,” Chelkash told him briefly. “Now I’m going to bed.” Gavrila, let's go! Do you want to eat? “I wish I could sleep...” answered Gavrila and five minutes later he was snoring, and Chelkash, sitting next to him, tried on someone’s boot on his foot and, thoughtfully spitting to the side, whistled sadly through his teeth. Then he stretched out next to Gavrila, putting his hands under his head, twirling his mustache. The barge quietly swayed on the playing water, somewhere a tree creaked with a plaintive sound, rain fell softly on the deck, and waves splashed against the sides... Everything was sad and sounded like a lullaby of a mother who has no hope for the happiness of her son... Chelkash, baring his teeth, raised his head, looked around and, whispering something, lay down again... Spreading his legs, he looked like large scissors. He woke up first, looked around anxiously, immediately calmed down and looked at Gavrila, who was still sleeping. He snored sweetly and in his sleep smiled at something with his whole childish, healthy, tanned face. Chelkash sighed and climbed up the narrow rope ladder. A lead piece of sky looked into the hole in the hold. It was light, but dull and gray like autumn. Chelkash returned about two hours later. His face was red, his mustache was twisted dashingly upward. He was dressed in long strong boots, a jacket, leather pants and looked like a hunter. His entire suit was shabby, but strong, and suited him very well, making his figure wider, hiding his bonyness and giving him a warlike appearance. “Hey, calf, get up!” he nudged Gavrila with his foot. He jumped up and, not recognizing him from his sleep, stared at him in fear with dull eyes. Chelkash laughed. “Look, what are you!..” Gavrila finally smiled broadly. - Became a master! - We'll have it soon. Well, you are shy! How many times were you going to die last night? - Judge for yourself, this is the first time I’ve done something like this! After all, you could ruin your soul for life! - Well, would you go again? A? - More?.. But this is - how can I tell you? Because of what self-interest?..that’s what! - Well, what if there were two rainbow ones? - Two hundred rubles, then? Nothing... It's possible... - Stop! How can you ruin your soul?.. - But maybe... you won’t ruin it! - Gavrila smiled. “You won’t ruin it, but you’ll become a man for the rest of your life.” Chelkash laughed merrily. -- OK! there will be jokes. We go to the shore... And here they are again in the boat. Chelkash at the helm, Gavrila at the oars. Above them the sky is gray, evenly covered with clouds, and the muddy green sea plays with the boat, noisily tossing it on the waves, which are still small, cheerfully throwing light, salty splashes into the sides. Far along the bow of the boat you can see a yellow strip of sandy shore, and behind the stern the sea stretches into the distance, pockmarked by flocks of waves, covered with lush white foam. There, in the distance, many ships can be seen; far to the left - a whole forest of masts and white piles of city houses. From there, a dull rumble pours across the sea, rumbling and, together with the splash of the waves, creating good, strong music... And a thin veil of ashen fog is thrown over everything, distancing objects from each other... - Eh, it will play out in the good evening! - Chelkash nodded his head to the sea. - Storm? - asked Gavrila, powerfully plowing the waves with oars. He was already wet from head to toe from these sprays scattered across the sea by the wind. “Hey!..” confirmed Chelkash. Gavrila looked at him inquisitively... - Well, how much did they give you? - he asked finally, seeing that Chelkash was not going to start a conversation. -- Here! - said Chelkash, handing Gavrila something he had taken out of his pocket. Gavrila saw the colorful pieces of paper, and everything in his eyes took on bright, rainbow shades. - Eh!.. But I thought: you lied to me!.. How much is this? - Five hundred and forty! “S-clever!” Gavrila whispered, his greedy eyes following the five hundred and forty, again hidden in his pocket. - E-eh-ma!.. If only I had that kind of money!.. - And he sighed dejectedly. - We'll party with you, boy! - Chelkash cried out with admiration. - Eh, that's enough... Don't think, I'll separate you, brother... I'll separate forty! A? Are you satisfied? Do you want me to give it to you now? - If you’re not offended, then what? I'll accept! Gavrila was trembling all over with the keen anticipation that was sucking at his chest. - Oh, you damn doll! I'll accept it! Accept it, brother, please! I beg you very much, accept it! I don’t know what to do with such a lot of money! Spare me, accept me!.. Chelkash handed Gavrila several pieces of paper. He took them with a trembling hand, threw the oars and began to hide them somewhere in his bosom, greedily narrowing his eyes, noisily sucking in the air, as if he was drinking something burning. Chelkash looked at him with a mocking smile. And Gavrila had already grabbed the oars again and rowed nervously, hastily, as if frightened by something and lowered his eyes. His shoulders and ears trembled. “You’re greedy!.. Not good... However, what then?.. Peasant...” Chelkash said thoughtfully. “But what can you do with money!” exclaimed Gavrila, suddenly flaring up with passionate excitement. And he abruptly, in a hurry, as if catching up with his thoughts and grasping words on the fly, began talking about life in the village with and without money. Honor, contentment, fun!.. Chelkash listened to him attentively, with a serious face and with eyes narrowed by some kind of thought. From time to time he smiled a satisfied smile. - We've arrived! - he interrupted Gavrila’s speech. The wave picked up the boat and deftly pushed it into the sand. - Well, brother, it's over now. The boat needs to be pulled far away so that it doesn’t get washed away. They'll come for her. And you and I - goodbye!.. From here to the city it’s about eight miles. Are you going back to the city again? A? A good-natured, cunning smile shone on Chelkash’s face, and he had the appearance of a man who had conceived something very pleasant for himself and unexpected for Gavrila. He put his hand in his pocket and rustled the papers there. “No... I... won’t go... I...” Gavrila was choking and choking on something. Chelkash looked at him. - What is this making you cringe? he asked. “So...” But Gavrila’s face either reddened or turned gray, and he hesitated in place, either wanting to rush at Chelkash, or torn by another desire, which was difficult for him to fulfill. Chelkash felt uneasy at the sight of such excitement in this guy. He waited for it to explode. Gavrila began to laugh in a strange way, a laugh that resembled a sob. His head was lowered, Chelkash could not see the expression of his face, only Gavrila’s ears were vaguely visible, now reddening, now pale. - Well, to hell with you! - Chelkash waved his hand. -You fell in love with me, or what? Wrinkles like a girl!.. Are you sick of parting with me? Hey sucker! Tell me what are you? Otherwise I’ll leave!.. - Are you leaving?! - Gavrila shouted loudly. The sandy and deserted shore trembled from his cry, and the yellow waves of the sand washed up by the waves of the sea seemed to stir. Chelkash also trembled. Suddenly Gavrila jumped out of his seat, rushed to Chelkash’s feet, hugged them with his arms and pulled them towards him. Chelkash staggered, sat down heavily on the sand and, gritting his teeth, sharply waved his long hand clenched into a fist in the air. But he didn’t have time to strike, stopped by Gavrila’s bashful and pleading whisper: “Darling!.. Give me this money!” Give, for Christ's sake! What are they to you?.. After all, one night - just one night... But I need years... Give me - I will pray for you! Eternally - in three churches - about the salvation of your soul!.. After all, you would throw them to the wind... and I would - to the ground! Eh, give them to me! What is in them for you?.. Is it precious to you? One night - and rich! Do a good deed! Lost, after all, you... There is no way for you... And I would - oh! Give them to me! Chelkash, frightened, amazed and embittered, sat on the sand, leaning back and resting his hands on it, sat silent and terribly gawked at the guy who buried his head in his knees and whispered, breathless, his pleas. He pushed him away, finally jumped to his feet and, putting his hand in his pocket, threw the pieces of paper at Gavrila. - Here! Eat... - he shouted, trembling with excitement, acute pity and hatred for this greedy slave. And, throwing the money, he felt like a hero. “I myself wanted to give you more.” Yesterday I felt sorry, I remembered the village... I thought: let me help the guy. I was waiting for what you would do, ask - no? And you... Oh, felt! Beggar!.. Is it possible to torture yourself like that because of money? Fool! Greedy devils!.. They don’t remember themselves... You’re selling yourself for a nickel!.. - Darling!.. Christ save you! After all, what do I have now?.. I am now... a rich man!.. - Gavrila squealed in delight, shuddering and hiding the money in his bosom. - Oh, dear!.. I will never forget!.. Never!.. I’ll order it for my wife and children - pray! Chelkash listened to his joyful cries, looked at his shining face, distorted by the delight of greed, and felt that he - a thief, a reveler, cut off from everything dear to him - would never be so greedy, low, and not remembering himself. He will never become like this!.. And this thought and feeling, filling him with the consciousness of his freedom, kept him near Gavrila on the deserted seashore. - You made me happy! - Gavrila shouted and, grabbing Chelkash’s hand, poked it in his face. Chelkash was silent and bared his teeth like a wolf. Gavrila kept pouring out: “What was I thinking?” We're going here... I think... I'll grab him - you - with an oar... right!.. the money - for myself, him - in the sea... you... huh? Who, they say, will miss him? And they will find it, they won’t ask how and who. He’s not the kind of person, they say, to make a fuss about him!.. Unnecessary on earth! Who should stand up for him? “Give me the money here!” Chelkash barked, grabbing Gavrila by the throat... Gavrila rushed once, twice, - Chelkash’s other hand wrapped itself like a snake around him... The crack of a torn shirt - and Gavrila lay on the sand, madly eyes wide, fingers clawing at the air and legs flailing. Chelkash, straight, dry, predatory, bared his teeth angrily, laughed with a small, caustic laugh, and his mustache nervously jumped on his angular, sharp face. Never in his entire life had he been beaten so painfully, and he had never been so embittered. - What, are you happy? - he asked Gavrila through laughter and, turning his back to him, walked away towards the city. But he had not taken five steps when Gavrila bent like a cat, jumped to his feet and, swinging widely in the air, threw a round stone at him, angrily shouting: “Rraz!” Chelkash grunted, grabbed his head with his hands, swung forward, turned to Gavrile and fell face down into the sand. Gavrila froze, looking at him. So he moved his leg, tried to raise his head and stretched out, trembling like a string. Then Gavrila rushed to run into the distance, where a shaggy black cloud hung over the foggy steppe and it was dark. The waves rustled, running up onto the sand, merging with it and running up again. The foam hissed and splashes of water flew through the air. It began to rain. At first rare, it quickly turned into dense, large, pouring from the sky in thin streams. They wove a whole network of threads of water - a network. immediately covering the distance of the steppe and the distance of the sea. Gavrila disappeared behind her. For a long time nothing was visible except the rain and a long man lying on the sand by the sea. But then the running Gavrila appeared again from the rain, he was flying like a bird; running up to Chelkash, he fell in front of him and began tossing him over on the ground. His hand plunged into the warm red slime... He trembled and stumbled back with a crazed, pale face. - Brother, get up! - he whispered to the sound of rain in Chelkash’s ear. Chelkash woke up and pushed Gavrila away from him, hoarsely saying: “Go away!” .. -- Brother! Forgive me!.. the devil is me...” Gavrila whispered trembling, kissing Chelkash’s hand. “Go... Go...” he wheezed. - Take the sin off your soul!.. Dear! Sorry!.. - About... go away!.. go to the devil! - Chelkash suddenly shouted and sat down on the sand. His face was pale, angry, his eyes were dull and closed, as if he really wanted to sleep. -What else do you want? Did your job...go! Let's go! - And he wanted to push the grief-stricken Gavrila with his foot, but he could not and would have fallen again if Gavrila had not held him back, hugging him by the shoulders. Chelkash's face was now on a level with Gavrila's face. Both were pale and scary. - Ugh! - Chelkash spat into the wide open eyes of his worker. He humbly wiped himself with his sleeve and whispered: “Do whatever you want... I won’t answer in a word.” Forgive for Christ! “Vile!.. And you don’t know how to fornicate!..” Chelkash shouted contemptuously, tore off his shirt from under his jacket and silently, occasionally grinding his teeth, began tying his head. - Did you take the money? - he muttered through his teeth. - I didn’t take them, brother! I don’t need it!.. the trouble is from them!.. Chelkash put his hand in the pocket of his jacket, pulled out a wad of money, put one rainbow piece of paper back in his pocket, and threw the rest to Gavrila. - Take it and go! - I won’t take it, brother... I can’t! Sorry! “Take it, I say!” Chelkash roared, rolling his eyes terribly. “Sorry!.. Then I’ll take it...” Gavrila said timidly and fell at Chelkash’s feet on the damp sand, generously watered by rain. - You're lying, you'll take it, you vile thing! - Chelkash said confidently, and, with an effort, lifting his head by the hair, he shoved the money in his face. - Take it! take it! It didn’t work for nothing! Take it, don't be afraid! Don't be ashamed that you almost killed a man! Nobody will punish people like me. They will also say thank you when they find out. Here, take it! Gavrila saw that Chelkash was laughing, and he felt better. He squeezed the money tightly in his hand. -- Brother! will you forgive me? Don't you want it? A? - he asked tearfully. “Darling!..” Chelkash answered him in the same tone, rising to his feet and swaying. -- For what? My pleasure! Today you take me, tomorrow I take you... - Eh, brother, brother!.. - Gavrila sighed mournfully, shaking his head. Chelkash stood in front of him and smiled strangely, and the rag on his head, gradually turning red, became like a Turkish fez. The rain poured down like buckets. The sea murmured dully, the waves beat against the shore madly and angrily. The two people were silent. - Well, goodbye! - Chelkash said mockingly, setting off on his way. He staggered, his legs trembled, and he held his head so strangely, as if he was afraid of losing it. “Forgive me, brother!” Gavrila asked again. -- Nothing! - Chelkash answered coldly, setting off on his way. He walked, staggering and still supporting his head with the palm of his left hand, and quietly tugging at his brown mustache with his right. Gavrila looked after him until he disappeared in the rain, which was pouring thicker and thicker from the clouds in thin, endless streams and enveloping the steppe in an impenetrable steel-colored haze. Then Gavrila took off his wet cap, crossed himself, looked at the money clutched in his palm, sighed freely and deeply, hid it in his bosom and with wide, firm steps walked along the bank in the direction opposite to where Chelkash had disappeared. The sea howled, throwing large, heavy waves onto the coastal sand, breaking them into spray and foam. The rain zealously whipped the water and the earth... the wind roared... Everything around was filled with howling, roaring, roaring... Behind the rain, neither the sea nor the sky was visible. Soon the rain and splashes of the waves washed away the red spot where Chelkash lay, washed away the traces of Chelkash and the traces of the young guy on the coastal sand... And on the deserted seashore there was nothing left in memory of the little drama that played out between two people. Source of text: M. Gorky. Selected works. M., Fiction, 1986 .