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Ivan Bunin

After dinner they left the brightly and hotly lit dining room on deck and stopped at the rail. She closed her eyes, put her hand to her cheek with her palm outward, laughed with a simple, charming laugh—everything was lovely about that little woman—and said:

- I'm completely drunk ... Actually, I'm completely crazy. Where did you come from? Three hours ago, I didn't even know you existed. I don't even know where you sat. In Samara? But anyway, you're cute. Is it my head spinning, or are we turning somewhere?

Ahead was darkness and lights. From the darkness a strong, soft wind beat in the face, and the lights rushed somewhere to the side: the steamer, with Volga panache, abruptly described a wide arc, running up to a small pier.

The lieutenant took her hand and raised it to his lips. The hand, small and strong, smelled of sunburn. And my heart sank blissfully and terribly at the thought of how strong and swarthy she must have been all under that light linen dress after a whole month of lying under the southern sun on the hot sea sand (she said she was coming from Anapa).

The lieutenant muttered:

- Let's go...

- Where? she asked in surprise.

- At this pier.

He said nothing. She again put the back of her hand to her hot cheek.

- Crazy…

"Let's go," he repeated stupidly. - I beg you…

“Oh, do as you please,” she said, turning away.

With a soft thud, the steamer hit the dimly lit pier, and they almost fell on top of each other. The end of the rope flew overhead, then it rushed back, and the water boiled with a noise, the gangway rattled ... The lieutenant rushed for things.

A minute later they passed the sleepy desk, stepped out onto the deep, hub-deep sand, and silently sat down in a dusty cab. The gentle ascent uphill, among the rare crooked lanterns, along the road soft from dust, seemed endless. But then they got up, drove off and crackled along the pavement, here was some kind of square, official places, a watchtower, warmth and smells of a summer district town at night ... The cabman stopped near the illuminated entrance, behind the open doors of which an old wooden staircase, an old, unshaven footman in a pink blouse and frock coat, took his things with displeasure and walked forward on his trampled feet. They entered a large, but terribly stuffy room, hotly heated during the day by the sun, with white curtains drawn down on the windows and two unburned candles on the under-mirror, and as soon as they entered and the footman closed the door, the lieutenant rushed to her so impetuously and both suffocated so frantically in a kiss that for many years they later remembered this moment: neither one nor the other had ever experienced anything like this in their entire lives.

At ten o'clock in the morning, sunny, hot, happy, with the ringing of churches, with a market on the square in front of the hotel, with the smell of hay, tar, and again all that complex and odorous smell of a Russian county town, she, this little nameless woman, and without saying her name, jokingly calling herself a beautiful stranger, she left. They slept little, but in the morning, coming out from behind the screen near the bed, having washed and dressed in five minutes, she was as fresh as at seventeen. Was she embarrassed? No, very little. She was still simple, cheerful and - already reasonable.

“No, no, dear,” she said in response to his request to go on together, “no, you must stay until the next boat. If we go together, everything will be ruined. It will be very unpleasant for me. I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think of me. There has never been anything even similar to what happened to me, and there will never be again. It’s like an eclipse hit me… Or rather, we both got something like a sunstroke…

And the lieutenant somehow easily agreed with her. In a light and happy spirit, he drove her to the pier - just in time for the departure of the pink "Airplane", - kissed her on deck in front of everyone and barely managed to jump onto the gangway, which had already moved back.

Just as easily, carefree, he returned to the hotel. However, something has changed. The room without her seemed somehow completely different than it was with her. He was still full of her - and empty. It was strange! There was still the smell of her good English cologne, her half-finished cup was still standing on the tray, but she was no longer there ... And the lieutenant's heart suddenly contracted with such tenderness that the lieutenant hurried to light a cigarette and, slapping his tops with a stack, several times walked up and down the room.

- Strange adventure! he said aloud, laughing and feeling tears welling up in his eyes. - “I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think ...” And she has already left ... An absurd woman!

The screen was drawn back, the bed had not yet been made. And he felt that he simply did not have the strength to look at this bed now. He closed it with a screen, closed the windows so as not to hear the bazaar talk and the creak of wheels, lowered the white bubbling curtains, sat on the sofa ... Yes, that's the end of this "road adventure"! She left - and now it’s already far away, probably sitting in a glassy white salon or on deck and looking at the huge river shining under the sun, at the oncoming rafts, at the yellow shallows, at the shining distance of water and sky, at all this immense expanse of the Volga ... And forgive, and already forever, forever. Because where can they meet now? “I can’t,” he thought, “I can’t come to this city for no reason at all, where her husband, her three-year-old girl, in general, her whole family and her whole ordinary life!” And this city seemed to him some kind of special, reserved city, and the thought that she would continue to live her lonely life in it, often, perhaps, remembering him, remembering their chance, such a fleeting meeting, and he would never will not see her, this thought amazed and struck him. No, it can't be! It would be too wild, unnatural, implausible! - And he felt such pain and such uselessness of his whole future life without her that he was seized with horror, despair.

"What the hell! he thought, getting up, again beginning to pace the room and trying not to look at the bed behind the screen. - What is it with me? It seems not for the first time - and now ... But what is special about her and what actually happened? In fact, just some kind of sunstroke! And most importantly, how can I now, without her, spend the whole day in this outback?

He still remembered her all, with all her slightest features, remembered the smell of her tan and canvas dress, her strong body, the lively, simple and cheerful sound of her voice ... The feeling of the just experienced pleasures of all her feminine charms was still unusually alive in him, but now the main thing was still this second, completely new feeling - that painful, incomprehensible feeling, which had not existed at all while they were together, which he could not even imagine in himself, starting yesterday, as he thought, only an amusing acquaintance, and about which there was no one, there was no one to tell now! “And most importantly,” he thought, “you can never tell! And what to do, how to live this endless day, with these memories, with this insoluble torment, in this godforsaken town above that very shining Volga, along which this pink steamer carried her away!

I had to escape, something to do, distract myself, somewhere to go. He resolutely put on his cap, took a stack, quickly walked, clinking his spurs, along an empty corridor, ran down a steep staircase to the entrance ... Yes, but where to go? At the entrance stood a cab driver, young, in a dexterous coat, calmly smoking a cigarette, obviously waiting for someone. The lieutenant looked at him in confusion and amazement: how is it possible to sit on the box so calmly, smoke, and in general be simple, careless, indifferent? "Probably, I'm the only one so terribly unhappy in this whole city," he thought, heading towards the bazaar.

The market has already left. For some reason, he walked through the fresh manure among the carts, among the carts with cucumbers, among the new bowls and pots, and the women sitting on the ground vied with each other to call him, take the pots in their hands and knock, ringing their fingers in them, showing their quality factor, peasants deafened him, shouted to him, “Here are the first-class cucumbers, your honor!” It was all so stupid, absurd that he fled from the market. He went into the cathedral, where they were already singing loudly, merrily and resolutely, with a sense of accomplishment of duty, then he walked for a long time, circled around the small, hot and neglected garden on the cliff of the mountain, over the boundless light-steel expanse of the river ... The shoulder straps and buttons of his tunic were so hot that they could not be touched. The band of the cap was wet with sweat inside, his face was on fire ... Returning to the hotel, he entered with pleasure into the large and empty cool dining room on the ground floor, took off his cap with pleasure and sat down at a table near open window, which smelled of heat, but still blew air, and ordered botvinia with ice. Everything was fine, there was boundless happiness in everything, great joy, even in this heat and in all the smells of the market, in all this unfamiliar town and in this old county inn there was this joy, and at the same time the heart was simply torn to pieces. He drank several glasses of vodka, eating lightly salted cucumbers with dill, and feeling that he would die without hesitation tomorrow if it were possible by some miracle to bring her back, to spend one more, this day with her - to spend only then, only then, in order to tell her and prove something, to convince her how painfully and enthusiastically he loves her ... Why prove it? Why convince? He didn't know why, but it was more necessary than life.

FIRST LOVE

From childhood memories

All this would be funny

When it wasn't so sad...

Dmitry Alekseevich!

Pale-faced dog!

Get up, finally!

I was already awake, but I tried to show that I had overslept terribly and did not understand what was the matter. Pulling the blanket that Petya and Lyova dragged from me with all my strength, I only mumbled and kicked my legs. But they did not let up and, having jumped off the window sill on which they were sitting (they climbed out of the garden through the window), they stopped near the bed.

That's what you are! Petya muttered indecisively. - What to do with him? We'll miss the dawn...

Let's go, - Lyova said in his usual, sharp and abrupt tone. - He is not a comrade, but a woman, an old prickly elk! Let's hit the fist and let's go!

I, brother, will slap you so hard that you ... die! I suddenly shouted, rising and waving my fist as if there was something in it. At that moment it seemed to me that I was unusually formidable and wild.

But Petya and Lyova, to my surprise, burst into the most good-natured laughter and held out their hands to me.

I, a little embarrassed, shook them, sullenly and reluctantly, and again fell on the pillow.

Well, let's go, let's go! - said Petya. - We really miss the dawn.

It was said so sincerely and seriously that I myself was afraid of the thought of missing the dawn. What this dawn was for us, why we gave each other our word to guard it - I really can’t explain it well now. But then I thought it was necessary. We terribly liked to leave the house than light, when the village, and the dark fields, and the distant dense forest were embraced. dead sleep and only in the east the sky is covered with silver, light stripes. Then it seemed to us that we were completely alone, and in the fresh, semi-dark forest everything was really mysterious and primitive. We, like real Indians, climbed into the very thicket of the garden and, waiting for the sunrise, sat in a circle and smoked the "peace pipe", or, in other words, the pipe stolen from my uncle. And although I was already twelve years old and understood perfectly well that all this was a game, and even a completely childish game, I liked it so much that I could not help but enjoy it.

So I immediately jumped up and began to pull on my stockings.

The sun hasn't risen yet, has it? I asked hastily.

You would take a nap until dinner, ”Leva answered,“ and then you would ask.

“Scares! It's not too late, I thought, going to the washbasin and shivering from the morning freshness that floated through the open window.

The cold jet of water made me shudder even more and finally wake up. Hastily washing my face, I was ready to go. We were supposed to set out today on a long journey, to the very end of a large meadow, which was behind our garden. A forest began there, and a wide meadow passed into narrow ravines, stony and pitted with spring water. Today we intended to smoke the last "peace pipe" there to say goodbye before the summer. It was the last day of the Easter holidays, and two days later I had to go to Oryol, to the gymnasium.

Take it, - Leva commanded, - bows as soon as possible.

We immediately put on our bows and climbed out the window onto the dewy grass of the garden.

The sun was just rising. The cold matte silver of dew lay on the grass, but along the paths the earth was already damp and blackened. The bright, mirror-like pond smoked faintly. But the reflections of the tall, slender aspens were still motionless and clear; the nightingale clicked especially sonorously in the young greenery. The morning was just beginning.

We walked down to the pond, along a wide coastal alley. Leva was the leader. He always liked to be the first, liked to command us, although he was two years younger than me and Petya. He looked out still quite a boy; short-cropped white hair sticking out at the top of her head; the constitution was still quite childish.

"Sunstroke"

After dinner they left the brightly and hotly lit dining room on deck and stopped at the rail. She closed her eyes, put her hand outward to her cheek, laughed with a simple, charming laugh—everything was lovely about that little woman—and said:

I'm completely drunk ... Actually, I'm completely crazy. Where did you come from? Three hours ago, I didn't even know you existed. I don't even know where you sat. In Samara? But anyway, you're cute. Is it my head spinning, or are we turning somewhere?

The lieutenant muttered:

Let's get off...

Where? she asked in surprise.

At this pier.

He said nothing. She again put the back of her hand to her hot cheek.

Crazy...

Let's go," he repeated dully. - I beg you...

Oh, do as you please,” she said, turning away.

With a soft thud, the steamer hit the dimly lit pier, and they almost fell on top of each other. The end of the rope flew over their heads, then it rushed back, and the water boiled with noise, the gangway rattled ... The lieutenant rushed for things.

A minute later they passed the sleepy desk, stepped out onto the deep, hub-deep sand, and silently sat down in a dusty cab. The gentle ascent uphill, among the rare crooked lanterns, along the road soft from dust, seemed endless. But then they got up, drove out and crackled along (the pavement, here is some kind of square, official places, a tower, warmth and smells of a summer district town at night ... The cabman stopped near the illuminated entrance, behind the open doors of which an old wooden staircase rose steeply, old, an unshaven footman in a pink blouse and a frock coat discontentedly took the things and walked forward on his trampled feet. they entered and the footman closed the door, the lieutenant rushed to her so impetuously and both choked so frenziedly in the kiss that for many years they later recalled this moment: neither one nor the other had ever experienced anything like it in their whole life.

At ten o'clock in the morning, sunny, hot, happy, with the ringing of churches, with a bazaar on the square in front of the hotel, with the smell of hay, tar, and again all that complex odorous self that smells like a Russian county town, she, this little nameless woman, and without saying her name, jokingly calling herself a beautiful stranger, she left. They slept little, but in the morning, coming out from behind the screen near the bed, having washed and dressed in five minutes, she was as fresh as at seventeen. Was she embarrassed? No, very little. She was still simple, cheerful and - already reasonable.

No, no, dear, - she said in response to his request to go further together, - no, you must stay until the next boat. If we go together, everything will be ruined. It will be very unpleasant for me. I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think of me. There has never been anything even similar to what happened to me, and there will never be again. It's like an eclipse hit me... Or rather, we both got something like a sunstroke...

And the lieutenant somehow easily agreed with her. In a light and happy spirit, he drove her to the pier - just in time for the departure of the pink Airplane - kissed her on deck in front of everyone and barely managed to jump onto the gangway, which had already moved back.

Just as easily, carefree, he returned to the hotel. However, something has changed. The room without her seemed somehow completely different than it was with her. He was still full of her - and empty. It was strange! There was still the smell of her good English cologne, her half-finished cup was still on the tray, but she was no longer there ... And the lieutenant's heart suddenly contracted with such tenderness that the lieutenant hurried to light a cigarette and, slapping his tops with a stack, several times walked up and down the room.

Strange adventure! he said aloud, laughing and feeling that tears were welling up in his eyes. - "I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think ..." And she has already left ... An absurd woman!

The screen was drawn back, the bed had not yet been made. And he felt that he simply did not have the strength to look at this bed now. He closed it with a screen, shut the windows so as not to hear the market talk and the creak of wheels, lowered the white bubbling curtains, sat down on the sofa ... Yes, that's the end of this "road adventure"! She left - and now it’s already far away, probably sitting in a glassy white salon or on deck and looking at the huge river shining under the sun, at the oncoming rafts, at the yellow shallows, at the shining distance of water and sky, at all this immense expanse of the Volga. .. And forgive, and already forever, forever. - Because where can they meet now? “I can’t, he thought, I can’t come to this city for no reason at all, where her husband, her three-year-old girl, in general, her whole family and her whole ordinary life!” And this city seemed to him some kind of special, reserved city, and the thought that she would continue to live her lonely life in it, often, perhaps, remembering him, remembering their chance, such a fleeting meeting, and he would never will not see her, this thought amazed and struck him. No, it can't be! It would be too wild, unnatural, implausible! - And he felt such pain and such uselessness of his whole future life without her that he was seized with horror, despair.

“What the hell!” he thought, getting up, again beginning to walk around the room and trying not to look at the bed behind the screen. “But what is it with me? special and what actually happened? In fact, just like some kind of sunstroke! And most importantly, how can I now, without her, spend the whole day in this outback? "

He still remembered her all, with all her slightest features, remembered the smell of her tan and canvas dress, her strong body, the lively, simple and cheerful sound of her voice ... The feeling of the just experienced pleasures of all her feminine charms was still unusually alive in him. , but now the main thing was still this second, completely new feeling - that painful, incomprehensible feeling, which had not existed at all while they were together, which he could not even imagine in himself, starting yesterday, as he thought, only amusing an acquaintance, and about which there was no one, there was no one to tell now! “And most importantly, he thought, you can never tell! And what to do, how to live this endless day, with these memories, with this insoluble torment, in this godforsaken town above that very radiant Volga, along which this pink ship!

The market has already left. For some reason, he walked through the fresh manure among the carts, among the carts with cucumbers, among the new bowls and pots, and the women sitting on the ground vied with each other to call him, take the pots in their hands and knock, ringing their fingers in them, showing their quality factor, peasants stunned him, shouted to him "Here are the first grade cucumbers, your honor!" It was all so stupid, absurd that he fled from the market. He went into the cathedral, where they were already singing loudly, merrily and resolutely, with a sense of accomplishment of duty, then he walked for a long time, circled around the small, hot and neglected garden on the cliff of the mountain, above the boundless light-steel expanse of the river ... Shoulder straps and buttons of his tunic so hot that they could not be touched. The band of the cap was wet inside with sweat, his face was on fire ... Returning to the hotel, he entered with pleasure into the large and empty cool dining room on the ground floor, took off his cap with pleasure and sat down at a table near the open window, which smelled of heat, but that was all. There was a breath of air, and I ordered botvinya with ice. Everything was fine, there was boundless happiness in everything, great joy, even in this heat and in all the smells of the market, in all this unfamiliar town and in this old county inn there was this joy, and at the same time the heart was simply torn to pieces. He drank several glasses of vodka, eating lightly salted cucumbers with dill, and feeling that he would die without hesitation tomorrow if it were possible by some miracle to bring her back, to spend one more, this day with her - to spend only then, only then, in order to tell her and prove something, to convince her how painfully and enthusiastically he loves her ... Why prove it? Why convince? He didn't know why, but it was more necessary than life.

The nerves have gone wild! - he said, pouring his fifth glass of vodka.

He pushed the botvinia away from him, asked for black coffee. I began to smoke and thought hard: what should he do now, how to get rid of this sudden, unexpected love? But to get rid of - he felt it too vividly - was impossible. And he suddenly got up again quickly, took a cap and a stack, and, asking where the post office was, hurriedly went there with the phrase of a telegram already ready in his head: "From now on, my life is forever, to the grave, yours, in your power." - But, having reached the old thick-walled house, where there was a post office and a telegraph office, he stopped in horror: he knew the city where she lives, knew that she had a husband and a three-year-old daughter, but did not know either her last name or her first name! He asked her about it several times yesterday at dinner and at the hotel, and each time she laughed and said:

Why do you need to know who I am? I am Marya Marevna, princess from overseas... Isn't that enough for you?

On the corner, near the post office, there was a photographic display case. He looked at large portrait some kind of military man in thick epaulettes, with bulging eyes, with a low forehead, with amazingly magnificent sideburns and the broadest chest, entirely decorated with orders ... , he now understood this - this terrible "sunstroke", too much love, too much happiness! He glanced at the newlywed couple - a young man in a long frock coat and white tie, with crew cut, stretched out to the front arm in arm with a girl in wedding gauze - he turned his eyes to the portrait of some pretty and perky young lady in a student cap on one side ... Then, languishing with tormenting envy of all these unknown to him, not suffering people, he began to stare intently along the street.

Where to go? What to do?

The street was completely empty. The houses were all the same, white, two-storied, merchants', with large gardens, and it seemed that there was not a soul in them; thick white dust lay on the pavement; and all this was blinding, everything was flooded with a hot, fiery and joyful, but here, as if aimless, sun. In the distance the street rose, stooped and rested against a cloudless, grayish, gleaming sky. There was something southern in it, reminiscent of Sevastopol, Kerch ... Anapa. It was especially unbearable. And the lieutenant, with lowered head, squinting from the light, intently looking at his feet, staggering, stumbling, clinging to spur with spur, walked back.

He returned to the hotel so overwhelmed with fatigue, as if he had made a huge transition somewhere in Turkestan, in the Sahara. He is collecting last strength, entered his large and empty room. The room was already tidied up, devoid of the last traces of her - only one hairpin, forgotten by her, lay on the night table! He took off his tunic and looked at himself in the mirror: his face - the usual officer's face, gray from sunburn, with a whitish mustache burned out from the sun and bluish whiteness of the eyes, which seemed even whiter from sunburn - now had an excited, crazy expression, and in There was something youthful and profoundly unhappy about a thin white shirt with a stand-up starched collar. He lay down on the bed, on his back, put his dusty boots on the dump. The windows were open, the curtains were lowered, and from time to time a light breeze blew them in, blew into the room the heat of the heated iron roofs and all this luminous and now completely empty silent world of the Volga. He lay with his hands behind the back of his head, staring intently into space in front of him. Then he clenched his teeth, closed his eyelids, feeling the tears roll down his cheeks from under them, and finally fell asleep, and when he opened his eyes again, the evening sun was already reddish yellow behind the curtains. The wind died down, it was stuffy and dry in the room, like in an oven ... And yesterday and this morning I remembered as if they were ten years ago.

He slowly got up, slowly washed himself, raised the curtains, rang the bell and asked for the samovar and the bill, and drank tea with lemon for a long time. Then he ordered a cab to be brought in, things to be carried out, and, getting into the cab, on its red, burnt-out seat, he gave the lackey a whole five rubles.

And it seems, your honor, that it was I who brought you at night! - the driver said cheerfully, taking up the reins.

When they went down to the pier, the blue summer night was already turning blue over the Volga, and already many multi-colored lights were scattered along the river, and the lights hung on the masts of the approaching steamer.

Delivered exactly! said the driver ingratiatingly.

The lieutenant gave him five rubles too, took a ticket, went to the pier... Just like yesterday, there was a soft knock on its pier and a slight dizziness from unsteadiness underfoot, then a flying end, the noise of water boiling and running forward under the wheels a little back of the steamer that was moving forward ... And it seemed unusually friendly, good from the crowd of this steamer, already lit everywhere and smelling of kitchen.

The dark summer dawn was dying away far ahead, gloomy, sleepy and multi-colored reflected in the river, which still shone here and there in trembling ripples far below it, under this dawn, and the lights scattered in the darkness all around floated and floated back.

The lieutenant sat under a canopy on the deck, feeling ten years older.

Maritime Alps. 1925

See also Bunin Ivan - Prose (stories, poems, novels ...):

Compatriot
This Bryansk peasant was brought to Moscow as a boy from a village where...

Pines
I Evening, the silence of a snow-covered house, a noisy forest blizzard outside ......

stories -
Ivan Bunin
Sunstroke
After dinner they left the brightly and hotly lit dining room on deck and stopped at the rail. She closed her eyes, put her hand to her cheek with her palm outward, laughed with a simple, charming laugh—everything was lovely about that little woman—and said:
- I'm completely drunk ... Actually, I'm completely crazy. Where did you come from? Three hours ago, I didn't even know you existed. I don't even know where you sat. In Samara? But anyway, you're cute. Is it my head spinning, or are we turning somewhere?
Ahead was darkness and lights. From the darkness a strong, soft wind beat in the face, and the lights rushed somewhere to the side: the steamer, with Volga panache, abruptly described a wide arc, running up to a small pier.
The lieutenant took her hand and raised it to his lips. The hand, small and strong, smelled of sunburn. And my heart sank blissfully and terribly at the thought of how strong and swarthy she must have been all under that light linen dress after a whole month of lying under the southern sun on the hot sea sand (she said she was coming from Anapa).
The lieutenant muttered:
- Let's go...
- Where? she asked in surprise.
- At this pier.
- For what?
He said nothing. She again put the back of her hand to her hot cheek.
- Crazy…
"Let's go," he repeated stupidly. - I beg you…
“Oh, do as you please,” she said, turning away.
With a soft thud, the steamer hit the dimly lit pier, and they almost fell on top of each other. The end of the rope flew overhead, then it rushed back, and the water boiled with a noise, the gangway rattled ... The lieutenant rushed for things.
A minute later they passed the sleepy desk, stepped out onto the deep, hub-deep sand, and silently sat down in a dusty cab. The gentle ascent uphill, among the rare crooked lanterns, along the road soft from dust, seemed endless. But then they got up, drove out and crackled along the pavement, here was some kind of square, official places, a tower, warmth and smells of a summer district town at night ... The cabman stopped near the illuminated entrance, behind the open doors of which an old wooden staircase rose steeply, an wearing a pink blouse and a frock coat, he took his things with displeasure and walked forward on his trampled feet. They entered a large, but terribly stuffy room, hotly heated during the day by the sun, with white curtains drawn down on the windows and two unburned candles on the under-mirror, and as soon as they entered and the footman closed the door, the lieutenant rushed to her so impetuously and both suffocated so frantically in a kiss that for many years they later remembered this moment: neither one nor the other had ever experienced anything like this in their entire lives.
At ten o'clock in the morning, sunny, hot, happy, with the ringing of churches, with a market on the square in front of the hotel, with the smell of hay, tar, and again all that complex and odorous smell of a Russian county town, she, this little nameless woman, and without saying her name, jokingly calling herself a beautiful stranger, she left. They slept little, but in the morning, coming out from behind the screen near the bed, having washed and dressed in five minutes, she was as fresh as at seventeen. Was she embarrassed? No, very little. She was still simple, cheerful and - already reasonable.
“No, no, dear,” she said in response to his request to go on together, “no, you must stay until the next boat. If we go together, everything will be ruined. It will be very unpleasant for me. I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think of me. There has never been anything even similar to what happened to me, and there will never be again. It’s like an eclipse hit me… Or rather, we both got something like a sunstroke…
And the lieutenant somehow easily agreed with her. In a light and happy spirit, he drove her to the pier - just in time for the departure of the pink "Airplane", - kissed her on deck in front of everyone and barely managed to jump onto the gangway, which had already moved back.
Just as easily, carefree, he returned to the hotel. However, something has changed. The room without her seemed somehow completely different than it was with her. He was still full of her - and empty. It was strange! There was still the smell of her good English cologne, her half-finished cup was still standing on the tray, but she was no longer there ... And the lieutenant's heart suddenly contracted with such tenderness that the lieutenant hurried to light a cigarette and, slapping his tops with a stack, several times walked up and down the room.
- Strange adventure! he said aloud, laughing and feeling tears welling up in his eyes. - “I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think ...” And she has already left ... An absurd woman!
The screen was drawn back, the bed had not yet been made. And he felt that he simply did not have the strength to look at this bed now. He closed it with a screen, closed the windows so as not to hear the bazaar talk and the creak of wheels, lowered the white bubbling curtains, sat on the sofa ... Yes, that's the end of this "road adventure"! She left - and now it’s already far away, probably sitting in a glassy white salon or on deck and looking at the huge river shining under the sun, at the oncoming rafts, at the yellow shallows, at the shining distance of water and sky, at all this immense expanse of the Volga ... And forgive, and already forever, forever. Because where can they meet now? “I can’t,” he thought, “I can’t come to this city for no reason at all, where her husband, her three-year-old girl, in general, her whole family and her whole ordinary life!” And this city seemed to him some kind of special, reserved city, and the thought that she would continue to live her lonely life in it, often, perhaps, remembering him, remembering their chance, such a fleeting meeting, and he would never will not see her, this thought amazed and struck him. No, it can't be! It would be too wild, unnatural, implausible! - And he felt such pain and such uselessness of his whole future life without her that he was seized with horror, despair.
"What the hell! he thought, getting up, again beginning to pace the room and trying not to look at the bed behind the screen. - What is it with me? It seems not for the first time - and now ... But what is special about her and what actually happened? In fact, just some kind of sunstroke! And most importantly, how can I now, without her, spend the whole day in this outback?
He still remembered her all, with all her slightest features, remembered the smell of her tan and canvas dress, her strong body, the lively, simple and cheerful sound of her voice ... The feeling of the just experienced pleasures of all her feminine charms was still unusually alive in him, but now the main thing was still this second, completely new feeling - that painful, incomprehensible feeling, which had not existed at all while they were together, which he could not even imagine in himself, starting yesterday, as he thought, only an amusing acquaintance, and about which there was no one, there was no one to tell now! “And most importantly,” he thought, “you can never tell! And what to do, how to live this endless day, with these memories, with this insoluble torment, in this godforsaken town above that very shining Volga, along which this pink steamer carried her away!
I had to escape, something to do, distract myself, somewhere to go. He resolutely put on his cap, took a stack, quickly walked, clinking his spurs, along an empty corridor, ran down a steep staircase to the entrance ... Yes, but where to go? At the entrance stood a cab driver, young, in a dexterous coat, calmly smoking a cigarette, obviously waiting for someone. The lieutenant looked at him in confusion and amazement: how is it possible to sit on the box so calmly, smoke, and in general be simple, careless, indifferent? "Probably, I'm the only one so terribly unhappy in this whole city," he thought, heading towards the bazaar.
The market has already left. For some reason, he walked through the fresh manure among the carts, among the carts with cucumbers, among the new bowls and pots, and the women sitting on the ground vied with each other to call him, take the pots in their hands and knock, ringing their fingers in them, showing their quality factor, peasants deafened him, shouted to him, “Here are the first-class cucumbers, your honor!” It was all so stupid, absurd that he fled from the market. He went into the cathedral, where they were already singing loudly, merrily and resolutely, with a sense of accomplishment of duty, then he walked for a long time, circled around the small, hot and neglected garden on the cliff of the mountain, over the boundless light-steel expanse of the river ... The shoulder straps and buttons of his tunic were so hot that they could not be touched. The band of the cap was wet with sweat inside, his face was on fire ... Returning to the hotel, he entered with pleasure into a large and empty cool dining room on the ground floor, took off his cap with pleasure and sat down at a table near the open window, which smelled of heat, but still blew air, and ordered botvinya with ice. Everything was fine, there was boundless happiness in everything, great joy, even in this heat and in all the smells of the market, in all this unfamiliar town and in this old county inn there was this joy, and at the same time the heart was simply torn to pieces. He drank several glasses of vodka, eating lightly salted cucumbers with dill, and feeling that he would die without hesitation tomorrow if it were possible by some miracle to bring her back, to spend one more, this day with her - to spend only then, only then, in order to tell her and prove something, to convince her how painfully and enthusiastically he loves her ... Why prove it? Why convince? He didn't know why, but it was more necessary than life.
- The nerves are completely gone! he said, pouring his fifth glass of vodka.
He pushed the botvinia away from him, asked for black coffee and began to smoke and think hard: what should he do now, how to get rid of this sudden, unexpected love? But to get rid of - he felt it too vividly - was impossible. And he suddenly got up again quickly, took a cap and a stack, and, asking where the post office was, hurriedly went there with the telegram phrase already ready in his head: “From now on, my life is forever, to the grave, yours, in your power.” - But, having reached the old thick-walled house, where there was a post office and a telegraph office, he stopped in horror: he knew the city where she lives, knew that she had a husband and a three-year-old daughter, but did not know her name or surname! He asked her about it several times yesterday at dinner and at the hotel, and each time she laughed and said:
"Why do you need to know who I am?" I am Marya Marevna, princess from overseas... Isn't that enough for you?
On the corner, near the post office, there was a photographic display case. He looked for a long time at a large portrait of some military man in thick epaulettes, with bulging eyes, with a low forehead, with amazingly magnificent sideburns and the broadest chest, completely decorated with orders ... How wild, how absurd, how terrible everything is everyday, ordinary, when the heart is struck, - yes, amazed, he now understood this - this terrible "sunstroke", too much love, too much happiness! He glanced at the newlywed couple—a young man in a long frock coat and white tie, with a buzz cut, stretched out to the front arm in arm with a girl in wedding gauze—transferred his eyes to the portrait of some pretty and playful young lady in a student cap on one side... envy of all these unknown to him, not suffering people, he began to look intently along the street.
- Where to go? What to do?
The street was completely empty. The houses were all the same, white, two-storied, merchants', with large gardens, and it seemed that there was not a soul in them; thick white dust lay on the pavement; and all this was blinding, everything was flooded with a hot, fiery and joyful, but here, as if aimless, sun. In the distance the street rose, stooped and rested against a cloudless, grayish, gleaming sky. There was something southern in it, reminiscent of Sevastopol, Kerch ... Anapa. It was especially unbearable. And the lieutenant, with lowered head, squinting from the light, intently looking at his feet, staggering, stumbling, clinging to spur with spur, walked back.
He returned to the hotel so overwhelmed with fatigue, as if he had made a huge transition somewhere in Turkestan, in the Sahara. Gathering the last of his strength, he entered his large and empty room. The room was already tidied up, devoid of the last traces of her - only one hairpin, forgotten by her, lay on the night table! He took off his tunic and looked at himself in the mirror: his face - the usual officer's face, gray from sunburn, with a whitish mustache burned out from the sun and bluish whiteness of the eyes, which seemed even whiter from sunburn - now had an excited, crazy expression, and in There was something youthful and profoundly unhappy about a thin white shirt with a stand-up starched collar. He lay down on the bed, on his back, put his dusty boots on the dump. The windows were open, the curtains were lowered, and from time to time a light breeze blew them in, blew into the room the heat of the heated iron roofs and all this luminous and now completely empty silent world of the Volga. He lay with his hands behind the back of his head, staring intently into space in front of him. Then he clenched his teeth, closed his eyelids, feeling the tears roll down his cheeks from under them, and finally fell asleep, and when he opened his eyes again, the evening sun was already reddish yellow behind the curtains. The wind died down, it was stuffy and dry in the room, like in an oven ... And I remembered yesterday and this morning as if they were ten years ago.
He slowly got up, slowly washed himself, raised the curtains, rang the bell and asked for the samovar and the bill, and drank tea with lemon for a long time. Then he ordered a cab to be brought in, things to be carried out, and, getting into the cab, on its red, burnt-out seat, he gave the lackey a whole five rubles.
- And it seems, your honor, that it was I who brought you at night! said the driver cheerfully, taking hold of the reins.
When they went down to the pier, the blue summer night was already turning blue over the Volga, and already many multi-colored lights were scattered along the river, and the lights hung on the masts of the approaching steamer.
- Delivered exactly! said the driver ingratiatingly.
The lieutenant gave him five rubles, took a ticket, went to the pier ... Just like yesterday, there was a soft knock on its pier and a slight dizziness from unsteadiness underfoot, then a flying end, the noise of water boiling and running forward under the wheels of a steamboat moving a little back ... And it seemed unusually friendly, good from the crowd of this steamer, already lit everywhere and smelling of kitchen.
A minute later they ran on, up, to the same place where they had taken her this morning.
The dark summer dawn was dying away far ahead, gloomy, sleepy and multi-colored reflected in the river, which still shone here and there in trembling ripples far below it, under this dawn, and the lights scattered in the darkness all around floated and floated back.
The lieutenant sat under a canopy on the deck, feeling ten years older.
Maritime Alps. 1925

The lieutenant muttered:

- Let's go...

- Where? she asked in surprise.

- At this pier.

He said nothing. She again put the back of her hand to her hot cheek.

- Crazy…

"Let's go," he repeated stupidly. - I beg you…

“Oh, do as you please,” she said, turning away.

A minute later they passed the sleepy desk, stepped out onto the deep, hub-deep sand, and silently sat down in a dusty cab. The gentle ascent uphill, among the rare crooked lanterns, along the road soft from dust, seemed endless. But then they got up, drove out and crackled along the pavement, here was some kind of square, official places, a tower, warmth and smells of a summer district town at night ... The cabman stopped near the illuminated entrance, behind the open doors of which an old wooden staircase rose steeply, an wearing a pink blouse and a frock coat, he took his things with displeasure and walked forward on his trampled feet. They entered a large, but terribly stuffy room, hotly heated during the day by the sun, with white curtains drawn down on the windows and two unburned candles on the under-mirror, and as soon as they entered and the footman closed the door, the lieutenant rushed to her so impetuously and both suffocated so frantically in a kiss that for many years they later remembered this moment: neither one nor the other had ever experienced anything like this in their entire lives.

The market has already left. For some reason, he walked through the fresh manure among the carts, among the carts with cucumbers, among the new bowls and pots, and the women sitting on the ground vied with each other to call him, take the pots in their hands and knock, ringing their fingers in them, showing their quality factor, peasants deafened him, shouted to him, “Here are the first-class cucumbers, your honor!” It was all so stupid, absurd that he fled from the market. He went into the cathedral, where they were already singing loudly, merrily and resolutely, with a sense of accomplishment of duty, then he walked for a long time, circled around the small, hot and neglected garden on the cliff of the mountain, over the boundless light-steel expanse of the river ... The shoulder straps and buttons of his tunic were so hot that they could not be touched. The band of the cap was wet with sweat inside, his face was on fire ... Returning to the hotel, he entered with pleasure into a large and empty cool dining room on the ground floor, took off his cap with pleasure and sat down at a table near the open window, which smelled of heat, but still blew air, and ordered botvinya with ice. Everything was fine, there was boundless happiness in everything, great joy, even in this heat and in all the smells of the market, in all this unfamiliar town and in this old county inn there was this joy, and at the same time the heart was simply torn to pieces. He drank several glasses of vodka, eating lightly salted cucumbers with dill, and feeling that he would die without hesitation tomorrow if it were possible by some miracle to bring her back, to spend one more, this day with her - to spend only then, only then, in order to tell her and prove something, to convince her how painfully and enthusiastically he loves her ... Why prove it? Why convince? He didn't know why, but it was more necessary than life.

- The nerves are completely gone! he said, pouring his fifth glass of vodka.

He pushed the botvinia away from him, asked for black coffee and began to smoke and think hard: what should he do now, how to get rid of this sudden, unexpected love? But to get rid of - he felt it too vividly - was impossible. And he suddenly got up again quickly, took a cap and a stack, and, asking where the post office was, hurriedly went there with the telegram phrase already ready in his head: “From now on, my life is forever, to the grave, yours, in your power.” - But, having reached the old thick-walled house, where there was a post office and a telegraph office, he stopped in horror: he knew the city where she lives, knew that she had a husband and a three-year-old daughter, but did not know her name or surname! He asked her about it several times yesterday at dinner and at the hotel, and each time she laughed and said:

"Why do you need to know who I am?" I am Marya Marevna, princess from overseas... Isn't that enough for you?

On the corner, near the post office, there was a photographic display case. He looked for a long time at a large portrait of some military man in thick epaulettes, with bulging eyes, with a low forehead, with amazingly magnificent sideburns and the broadest chest, completely decorated with orders ... How wild, how absurd, how terrible everything is everyday, ordinary, when the heart is struck, - yes, amazed, he now understood this - this terrible "sunstroke", too much love, too much happiness! He glanced at the newlywed couple—a young man in a long frock coat and white tie, with a buzz cut, stretched out to the front arm in arm with a girl in wedding gauze—transferred his eyes to the portrait of some pretty and playful young lady in a student cap on one side... envy of all these unknown to him, not suffering people, he began to look intently along the street.

- Where to go? What to do?

He returned to the hotel so overwhelmed with fatigue, as if he had made a huge transition somewhere in Turkestan, in the Sahara. Gathering the last of his strength, he entered his large and empty room. The room was already tidied up, devoid of the last traces of her - only one hairpin, forgotten by her, lay on the night table! He took off his tunic and looked at himself in the mirror: his face - the usual officer's face, gray from sunburn, with a whitish mustache burned out from the sun and bluish whiteness of the eyes, which seemed even whiter from sunburn - now had an excited, crazy expression, and in There was something youthful and profoundly unhappy about a thin white shirt with a stand-up starched collar. He lay down on the bed, on his back, put his dusty boots on the dump. The windows were open, the curtains were lowered, and from time to time a light breeze blew them in, blew into the room the heat of the heated iron roofs and all this luminous and now completely empty silent world of the Volga. He lay with his hands behind the back of his head, staring intently into space in front of him. Then he clenched his teeth, closed his eyelids, feeling the tears roll down his cheeks from under them, and finally fell asleep, and when he opened his eyes again, the evening sun was already reddish yellow behind the curtains. The wind died down, it was stuffy and dry in the room, like in an oven ... And I remembered yesterday and this morning as if they were ten years ago.

- And it seems, your honor, that it was I who brought you at night! said the driver cheerfully, taking hold of the reins.

- Delivered exactly! said the driver ingratiatingly.

The lieutenant gave him five rubles, took a ticket, went to the pier ... Just like yesterday, there was a soft knock on its pier and a slight dizziness from unsteadiness underfoot, then a flying end, the noise of water boiling and running forward under the wheels of a steamboat moving a little back ... And it seemed unusually friendly, good from the crowd of this steamer, already lit everywhere and smelling of kitchen.

The lieutenant sat under a canopy on the deck, feeling ten years older.

Maritime Alps. 1925