Not far from Porto-Vecchio, in the depths of Corsica, there are lands covered with continuous thickets of poppies - a tall young shrub that has grown in fields cleared for grain crops or grazing for livestock. No one lives in maquis, except for shepherds and robbers. It has long been customary that the police do not enter poppies, preferring to keep their distance and wait until the next killer or robber descends into the city to replenish gunpowder, which happens quite rarely, because there is more than enough food and drink in poppies.

locals

They are not afraid of such a neighborhood and even help all criminals, therefore the capture of a fugitive for these lands is considered a significant achievement in the track record of the local police chief.

Not far from the maquis lives a wealthy Corsican, Matteo Falcone, a middle-aged man with a rather stern character. Among the neighbors, Matteo is known as an excellent shooter, as well as an honest and decent gentleman. Despite his fifty years of age, Matteo's hair is still black, and his eyes are still sharp, so not everyone dares to compete with him in accuracy.

Matteo is quite content with his life, his two beautiful daughters

Already married, and the ten-year-old son Fortunato shows considerable ability, both in shooting and in managing the household. Matteo's young wife loves him to the point of unconsciousness and is ready to follow the dictates of her husband in everything, in a word, Matteo's life goes the way he only dreamed of.

One summer morning, Matteo and his wife go to the maquis to visit the herds of cattle grazing there, leaving their young son at home. Left to his own devices, Fortunato stretches out in the hayloft and dreams of the weekend ahead. Suddenly, the boy is brought out of his state of sweet slumber by gunshots coming from the side of the maquis. Some time later, the famous robber Gianetto Sanpiero appears before Fortunato, who was caught by soldiers while trying to buy gunpowder.

Gianetto knows the boy's father well, therefore he asks him for asylum, to which he receives an indecisive refusal, having heard that the robber first threatens the impudent boy, and then bribes him with a gold coin. Tempted by such a payment for shelter, Fortunato offers the robber to stay in a haystack, for greater persuasiveness, bringing and placing a cat with kittens on top.

As soon as he does this, soldiers appear, whose commander, Sergeant Theodore Gamba, orders to search the house, simultaneously trying to find out from the boy where he hid the bandit. But Fortunato is not so easy to figure out, he is impudent to the soldiers and openly mocks them and their commander, who, by the way, is a distant relative of him. Family ties in Corsica are of great importance, because Fortunato constantly feels pangs of conscience about the deception he is committing, seeing this, Theodore Gamba offers the boy a reward for surrendering the criminal - a beautiful handmade gold watch.

Fortunato simply could not refuse such an offering, moving his hand with a watch several times, he nevertheless took it and reluctantly pointed to a bale of hay to the sergeant.

The soldiers immediately surrounded the hay and dragged out the resisting criminal, tying him securely and throwing him to the ground. Realizing how low he acted, Fortunato gives Gianetto the gold coin he received shortly before, but he refuses to touch it, with all his appearance showing obvious contempt for the boy's act.

While the soldiers were building a stretcher to carry the captured robber, Matteo himself and his wife appeared on the road to the house. Seeing the soldiers, Matteo became alert and prepared a gun, but recognizing his relative in the sergeant, lowered him and entered into a conversation, during which he was told the story of the capture of Gianetto and the role assigned to his son in this. The sergeant was delighted with Fortunato's act, endlessly praising the young man, he does not notice how dejected his father's face becomes.

Coming closer to the house, Matteo is convinced of what happened with his own eyes, which makes him even more despondent. In addition, the bound Gianetto spits on the threshold of Matteo's home and calls him a traitor, refusing to drink the milk served by Fortunato. Instead, the offender drinks plain water served to him by a soldier.

After finishing work on the stretcher, the soldiers take Gianetto away, leaving Matteo alone with his son. The latter, realizing that he has done something terrible, begins to cry, but the tears cannot soften the heart of his father, who realized that a traitor was born in his family for the first time.

Matteo calls his son to the poppies, takes him to a deep ravine and kills him, after which he returns to the house for a shovel to dig a decent grave. When asked by his wife about where he left his son, Matteo replies that he will order a memorial service for him, after which it is necessary to call the husband of the eldest daughter and offer him to settle on the estate, since now he becomes the full heir to all the property acquired by Matteo.

Year of writing:

1829

Reading time:

Description of the work:

The French writer Prosper Mérimée is a recognized master of short stories. He wrote his first novel, Matteo Falcone, in 1829. This work tells about betrayal and cowardice, about perseverance and firm principles. Merimee very accurately describes the unusual situations that characterize the main characters.

If you go from Porto-Vecchio into the depths of Corsica, you can go to the vast thickets of maquis - the homeland of shepherds and everyone who is at odds with justice. Corsican farmers burn part of the forest and harvest from this land. The roots of the trees left in the ground again start up frequent shoots. This dense, tangled growth several meters high is called maki. If you have killed a man, run to the maquis and you will live there safely with your weapons. The shepherds will feed you, and you will not be afraid of justice or revenge, unless you go down to the city to replenish your gunpowder.

Matteo Falcone lived half a mile from the maquis. He was a rich man and lived on the income from his many herds. At that time he was no more than fifty years old. He was a short, strong and swarthy man with curly black hair, an aquiline nose, thin lips, and large lively eyes. His accuracy was unusual even for this region of good shooters. Such unusually high art made Matteo famous. He was considered as good a friend as he was a dangerous enemy; however, he lived in peace with everyone in the district. It was said that he once shot his rival, but that story was hushed up, and Matteo married Giuseppe. She bore him three daughters and a son, whom he named Fortunato. The daughters were happily married off. The son was ten years old, and he already showed great promise.

Early one morning, Matteo and his wife went to the maquis to look at their flocks. Fortunato was left alone at home. He was basking in the sun, dreaming about the next Sunday, when suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a gunshot from the direction of the plain. The boy jumped up. On the path leading to Matteo's house, a bearded man appeared, in rags and a cap, such as mountaineers wear. He was wounded in the thigh, and he could hardly move his legs, leaning on a gun. It was Gianetto Sanpiero, a bandit who, having gone to the city for gunpowder, was ambushed by Corsican soldiers. He fired furiously and eventually managed to get away.

Gianetto recognized Matteo Falcone's son in Fortunato and asked him to hide him. Fortunato hesitated, and Gianetto threatened the boy with a gun. But the gun could not frighten the son of Matteo Falcone. Gianetto reproached him, reminding him whose son he was. Having doubts, the boy demanded payment for his help. Gianetto handed him a silver coin. Fortunato took the coin and hid Gianetto in a haystack near the house. Then the cunning boy brought a cat with kittens and laid them on the hay so that it seemed that he had not been stirred for a long time. After that, he, as if nothing had happened, stretched out in the sun.

A few minutes later, six soldiers under the command of a sergeant were already standing in front of Matteo's house. The sergeant, Theodore Gamba, the menace of bandits, was a distant relative of Falcone, and in Corsica, more than anywhere else, kinship is considered. The sergeant approached Fortunato and began to ask if anyone had passed by. But the boy answered Gamba so boldly and mockingly that, having boiled over, he ordered the house to be searched and began to threaten Fortunato with punishment. The boy sat and calmly stroked the cat, not betraying himself in any way even when one of the soldiers approached and carelessly jabbed a bayonet into the hay. The sergeant, convinced that the threats did not make any impression, decided to test the power of bribery. He pulled a silver watch out of his pocket and promised to give it to Fortunatto if he betrayed the criminal.

Fortunatto's eyes lit up, but still he did not reach out for the clock. The sergeant brought the watch closer and closer to Fortunato. A struggle broke out in Fortunato's soul, and the clock swayed in front of him, touching the tip of his nose. Finally, Fortunato hesitantly reached for his watch, and it fell into his palm, although the sergeant still did not let go of the chain. Fortunato raised his left hand and pointed with his thumb at the haystack. The sergeant let go of the end of the chain, and Fortunato realized that the watch was now his. And the soldiers immediately began to scatter hay. Gianetto was found, captured and bound hand and foot. When Gianetto was already lying on the ground, Fortunato threw back his silver coin to him - he realized that he no longer had the right to it.

While the soldiers were constructing a stretcher on which the criminal could be carried to the city, Matteo Falcone and his wife suddenly appeared on the road. At the sight of the soldiers, Matteo became alert, although for ten years he had not pointed the muzzle of his gun at a man. He took aim at the gun and began to slowly approach the house. The sergeant, too, was somehow uneasy when he saw Matteo with a gun at the ready. But Gamba boldly went out to meet Falcone and called out to him. Recognizing his relative, Matteo stopped and slowly drew back the muzzle of his gun. The sergeant reported that they had just covered Giannetto Sanpiero and praised Fortunatto for his help. Matteo whispered a curse.

Seeing Falcone with his wife, Gianetto spat on the threshold of their house and called Matteo a traitor. Matteo raised his hand to his forehead like a heartbroken man. Fortunato brought a bowl of milk and, lowering his eyes, handed it to Gianetto, but the arrested man angrily rejected the offering and asked the soldier for water. The soldier gave a flask, and the bandit drank the water offered by the hand of the enemy. The sergeant signaled, and the squad moved towards the plain.

A few minutes passed, and Matteo remained silent. The boy glanced nervously at his mother and then at his father. Finally, Matteo spoke to his son in a calm voice, but terrible for those who knew this man. Fortunato wanted to rush to his father and fall on his knees, but Matteo screamed terribly, and he, sobbing, stopped a few steps away. Giuseppa saw the watch chain and asked sternly who had given it to Fortunato. "Uncle Sergeant," the boy replied. Matteo realized that Fortunatto had become a traitor, the first of the Falcone family.

Fortunato sobbed aloud, Falcone did not take his lynx eyes off him. Finally, he threw his gun over his shoulder and walked along the road to the maquis, ordering Fortunato to follow him. Giuseppa rushed to Matteo, glaring at him, as if trying to read what was in his soul, but in vain. She kissed her son and, crying, returned to the house. Meanwhile, Falcone descended into a small ravine. He ordered his son to pray, and Fortunato fell to his knees. Stumbling and crying, the boy read every prayer he knew. He begged for mercy, but Matteo threw up his gun and, taking aim, said: "God forgive you!" He fired. The boy fell dead.

Without even looking at the corpse, Matteo went to the house for a shovel to bury his son. He saw Giuseppa, alarmed by the shot. "What did you do?" - she exclaimed. “Did justice. He died a Christian. I'll order a memorial service for him. I must tell my son-in-law, Teodor Bianchi, to come to live with us,” Matteo replied calmly.

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Prosper Merimee

MATTEO FALCONE

If you go northwest from Porto Vecchio, deep into the island, then the terrain will begin to rise rather steeply, and after a three-hour walk along winding paths cluttered with large fragments of rocks and in some places crossed by ravines, you will come out to extensive thickets poppies. poppies- the birthplace of the Corsican shepherds and all those who are at odds with justice. It must be said that the Corsican farmer, not wanting to take the trouble of manuring his field, burns out part of the forest: it is not his concern if the fire spreads further than necessary; whatever it is, he is sure that he will get a good harvest on the land fertilized with the ashes of the burned trees. After the ears are harvested (the straw is left, as it is difficult to remove), the roots of the trees, remaining intact in the ground, start up frequent shoots the next spring; in a few years they reach a height of seven or eight feet. It is this dense growth that is called poppies. It consists of a wide variety of trees and shrubs, mixed up at random. Only with an ax in hand can a man cut a path through them; but there are poppies so thick and impenetrable that even mouflons cannot get through them.

If you killed a man, run to poppies Porto-Vecchio, and you will live there in safety, with good weapons, gunpowder and bullets; do not forget to bring a brown hooded raincoat with you - it will replace both your blanket and bedding. The shepherds will give you milk, cheese, and chestnuts, and you have nothing to fear from justice or the relatives of the slain, unless it becomes necessary to go down to the city to resupply gunpowder.

When I visited Corsica in 18… the house of Matteo Falcone was half a mile away poppies. Matteo Falcone was a fairly wealthy man in the area; he lived honestly, that is, without doing anything, on the income from his numerous herds, which the nomadic shepherds grazed in the mountains, driving from place to place. When I saw him two years after the incident I am about to relate, he could not have been more than fifty years old. Imagine a man of small stature, but strong, with curly jet-black hair, an aquiline nose, thin lips, large, lively eyes, and a face the color of raw skin. The accuracy with which he fired a gun was unusual even for this region, where there are so many good shooters. Matteo, for example, never shot a mouflon with shot, but at a distance of one hundred and twenty paces he killed him on the spot with a shot in the head or in the shoulder blade - at his choice. By night he wielded weapons as freely as during the day. I was told of an example of his dexterity that might seem implausible to someone who had not been to Corsica. Eighty paces away, a lit candle was placed behind a sheet of translucent paper the size of a plate. He took aim, then the candle was extinguished, and a minute later in complete darkness he fired and pierced the paper three times out of four.

Such unusually high art brought Matteo Falcone great fame. He was considered as good a friend as he was a dangerous enemy; however, helpful to friends and generous to the poor, he lived in peace with everyone in the district of Porto-Vecchio. But it was said about him that in Korte, from where he took his wife, he brutally dealt with a rival who was reputed to be a dangerous person, both in war and in love; at least, Matteo was credited with a shot from a gun that overtook an opponent at the moment when he was shaving in front of a mirror hanging by the window. When this story was hushed up, Matteo got married. His wife Giuseppa bore him first three daughters (which infuriated him) and finally a son, whom he named Fortunato, the hope of the family and the successor of the family. The daughters were successfully married off: in which case the father could count on the daggers and carbines of his sons-in-law. The son was only ten years old, but he already showed great promise.

One early autumn morning, Matteo and his wife went to poppies look at their flocks that were grazing in the clearing. Little Fortunato wanted to go with them, but the pasture was too far away, someone had to stay behind to guard the house, and his father did not take him with him. From what follows it will be seen how he had to repent of that.

Several hours had passed since they left; little Fortunato was lying quietly in the very sun, and looking at the blue mountains, he thought that next Sunday he would go to dinner in the city with his uncle caporale, when suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a shot from a rifle. He jumped up and turned towards the plain where the sound had come from. Again, at irregular intervals, shots were heard, closer and closer; Finally, on the path leading from the plain to Matteo's house, a man appeared, covered with rags, overgrown with a beard, in a pointed hat, such as mountaineers wear. He could hardly move his legs, leaning on the gun. He had just been shot in the thigh.

It was a bandit who, having gone to the city at night for gunpowder, was ambushed by Corsican voltigeurs. He fired furiously and eventually managed to escape from the chase, hiding behind the ledges of rocks. But he was not much ahead of the soldiers: the wound did not allow him to run to poppies.

He approached Fortunato and asked:

Are you the son of Matteo Falcone?

I am Giannetto Sanpiero. The yellow collars are chasing me. Hide me, I can't go anymore.

“What will my father say if I hide you without his permission?”

He will say that you did well.

– How to know!

"Hide me quickly, they're coming here!"

“Wait until your father returns.

- Wait? Damn! Yes, they'll be here in five minutes. Come on, hide me quickly, or I'll kill you!

Fortunato answered him with complete composure:

“Your gun is unloaded, and there are no more cartridges in your carchera.

- I have a dagger.

“Where can you keep up with me!”

In one leap, he was out of danger.

- No, you are not the son of Matteo Falcone! Are you going to allow me to be captured outside your house?

This must have had an effect on the boy.

“What will you give me if I hide you?” he asked as he approached.

The bandit rummaged in a leather bag hanging from his belt and pulled out a five-franc coin, which he probably hid to buy gunpowder. Fortunato smiled at the sight of the silver coin; he seized her and said to Giannetto:

- Do not be afraid of anything.

Immediately he made a large hole in a haystack that stood near the house. Giannetto curled up in it, and the boy covered it with hay so that the air penetrated there and he had something to breathe. It would never have occurred to anyone that someone was hidden in the mop. In addition, with the cunning of a savage, he came up with another trick. He brought a cat with kittens and put it on the hay so that it looked as if it had not been stirred for a long time. Then, noticing traces of blood on the path near the house, he carefully covered them with earth and again, as if nothing had happened, stretched out in the sun.

A few minutes later, six riflemen in brown uniforms with yellow collars, under the command of a sergeant, were already standing in front of Matteo's house. This sergeant was a distant relative of Falcone. (It is known that in Corsica more than anywhere else they are considered kinship.) His name was Teodoro Gamba. He was a very active man, a storm of bandits, whom he caught quite a few.

- Hello, nephew! he said, going up to Fortunato. - How you grew up! Has anyone passed by here just now?

- Well, uncle, I'm not as big as you! The boy answered with a simple air.

- Grow up! Well, tell me: no one passed here?

Has anyone been through here?

“Yes, a man in a pointed velvet hat and a jacket embroidered in red and yellow.

“A man in a pointed velvet hat and a jacket embroidered in red and yellow?”

Prosper Merimee

"Matteo Falcone"

If you go from Porto-Vecchio deep into Corsica, you can go to the vast thickets of maquis - the homeland of shepherds and everyone who is in trouble with justice. Corsican farmers burn part of the forest and harvest from this land. The roots of the trees left in the ground again start up frequent shoots. This dense, tangled growth several meters high is called maki. If you have killed a man, run to the maquis and you will live there safely with your weapons. The shepherds will feed you, and you will not be afraid of justice or revenge, unless you go down to the city to replenish your gunpowder.

Matteo Falcone lived half a mile from the maquis. He was a rich man and lived on the income from his many herds. At that time he was no more than fifty years old. He was a short, strong and swarthy man with curly black hair, an aquiline nose, thin lips, and large lively eyes. His accuracy was unusual even for this region of good shooters. Such unusually high art made Matteo famous. He was considered as good a friend as he was a dangerous enemy; however, he lived in peace with everyone in the district. It was said that he once shot his rival, but that story was hushed up, and Matteo married Giuseppe. She bore him three daughters and a son, whom he named Fortunato. The daughters were happily married off. The son was ten years old, and he already showed great promise.

Early one morning, Matteo and his wife went to the maquis to look at their flocks. Fortunato was left alone at home. He was basking in the sun, dreaming about the next Sunday, when suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a gunshot from the direction of the plain. The boy jumped up. On the path leading to Matteo's house, a bearded man appeared, in rags and a cap, such as mountaineers wear. He was wounded in the thigh, and he could hardly move his legs, leaning on a gun. It was Gianetto Sanpiero, a bandit who, having gone to the city for gunpowder, was ambushed by Corsican soldiers. He fired furiously and eventually managed to get away.

Gianetto recognized Matteo Falcone's son in Fortunato and asked him to hide him. Fortunato hesitated, and Gianetto threatened the boy with a gun. But the gun could not frighten the son of Matteo Falcone. Gianetto reproached him, reminding him whose son he was. Having doubts, the boy demanded payment for his help. Gianetto handed him a silver coin. Fortunato took the coin and hid Gianetto in a haystack near the house. Then the cunning boy brought a cat with kittens and laid them on the hay so that it seemed that he had not been stirred for a long time. After that, he, as if nothing had happened, stretched out in the sun.

A few minutes later, six soldiers under the command of a sergeant were already standing in front of Matteo's house. The sergeant, Theodore Gamba, the menace of bandits, was a distant relative of Falcone, and in Corsica, more than anywhere else, kinship is considered. The sergeant approached Fortunato and began to ask if anyone had passed by. But the boy answered Gamba so boldly and mockingly that, having boiled over, he ordered the house to be searched and began to threaten Fortunato with punishment. The boy sat and calmly stroked the cat, not betraying himself in any way even when one of the soldiers approached and carelessly jabbed a bayonet into the hay. The sergeant, convinced that the threats did not make any impression, decided to test the power of bribery. He pulled a silver watch out of his pocket and promised to give it to Fortunatto if he betrayed the criminal.

Fortunatto's eyes lit up, but still he did not reach out for the clock. The sergeant brought the watch closer and closer to Fortunato. A struggle broke out in Fortunato's soul, and the clock swayed in front of him, touching the tip of his nose. Finally, Fortunato hesitantly reached for his watch, and it fell into his palm, although the sergeant still did not let go of the chain. Fortunato raised his left hand and pointed with his thumb at the haystack. The sergeant let go of the end of the chain, and Fortunato realized that the watch was now his. And the soldiers immediately began to scatter hay. Gianetto was found, captured and bound hand and foot. When Gianetto was already lying on the ground, Fortunato threw back his silver coin to him - he realized that he no longer had the right to it.

While the soldiers were constructing a stretcher on which the criminal could be carried to the city, Matteo Falcone and his wife suddenly appeared on the road. At the sight of the soldiers, Matteo became alert, although for ten years he had not pointed the muzzle of his gun at a man. He took aim at the gun and began to slowly approach the house. The sergeant, too, was somehow uneasy when he saw Matteo with a gun at the ready. But Gamba boldly went out to meet Falcone and called out to him. Recognizing his relative, Matteo stopped and slowly drew back the muzzle of his gun. The sergeant reported that they had just covered Giannetto Sanpiero and praised Fortunatto for his help. Matteo whispered a curse.

Seeing Falcone with his wife, Gianetto spat on the threshold of their house and called Matteo a traitor. Matteo raised his hand to his forehead like a heartbroken man. Fortunato brought a bowl of milk and, lowering his eyes, handed it to Gianetto, but the arrested man angrily rejected the offering and asked the soldier for water. The soldier gave a flask, and the bandit drank the water offered by the hand of the enemy. The sergeant signaled, and the squad moved towards the plain.

A few minutes passed, and Matteo remained silent. The boy glanced nervously at his mother and then at his father. Finally, Matteo spoke to his son in a calm voice, but terrible for those who knew this man. Fortunato wanted to rush to his father and fall on his knees, but Matteo screamed terribly, and he, sobbing, stopped a few steps away. Giuseppa saw the watch chain and asked sternly who had given it to Fortunato. "Uncle Sergeant," the boy replied. Matteo realized that Fortunatto had become a traitor, the first of the Falcone family.

Fortunato sobbed aloud, Falcone did not take his lynx eyes off him. Finally, he threw his gun over his shoulder and walked along the road to the maquis, ordering Fortunato to follow him. Giuseppa rushed to Matteo, glaring at him, as if trying to read what was in his soul, but in vain. She kissed her son and, crying, returned to the house. Meanwhile, Falcone descended into a small ravine. He ordered his son to pray, and Fortunato fell to his knees. Stumbling and crying, the boy read every prayer he knew. He begged for mercy, but Matteo threw up his gun and, taking aim, said: "God forgive you!" He fired. The boy fell dead.

Without even looking at the corpse, Matteo went to the house for a shovel to bury his son. He saw Giuseppa, alarmed by the shot. "What did you do?" - she exclaimed. “Did justice. He died a Christian. I'll order a memorial service for him. I must tell my son-in-law, Theodore Bianchi, to move to live with us, ”Matteo replied calmly. retold Natalia Bubnova

On the border with the maquis in the outback of Corsica lived the shepherd Mateo Falcone with his family. Poppies were famous for the fact that any criminal could hide in them. Representatives of justice did not meddle there, waiting for criminals on their way to the city, when they went to replenish gunpowder stocks, and the shepherds did not give them away - such was an immutable rule. Once Mateo and his wife went to the maquis to their herds, leaving their 10-year-old son Fortunatto at home. Fortunatto was sunbathing on the front lawn when the wounded fugitive Gianetto Sanpiero appeared on the threshold. Gianetto knew the Falcone family and asked his son Mate to hide him. Fortunatto refused, he was not even afraid of the gun with which Gianetto threatened him, but for a silver coin the boy hid it in a haystack and arranged a cat with kittens on top.

When six soldiers came to Falcone's house and asked the boy about the criminal, he assured them with an indifferent face that no one was there. Neither persuasion nor threats helped Sergeant Gamba get Fortunatto to talk. The same technique that Gianetto used also helped. The silver watch bribed the boy and he pointed to the haystack. When Gianetto was seized and tied up, Fortunatto returned the coin to him.

Fortunatto's returned parents were informed of the detained criminal and Sergeant Gambipo thanked Mateo for his son's help in this matter. When Gianetto Sanpiero was taken away, he stopped at Falcone, spat in the direction of his porch and called him a traitor. Mateo talked for a long time with his son, trying to find out how it all happened, and when he found out that Fortunatto did it for a silver watch, he declared that he had disgraced Falcone and became the first traitor in the family.

Fortunatto asked for forgiveness, sobbed, knelt, but the father only raised his gun, went to the maquis and ordered his son to follow him. Mother Fortunatto rushed to her husband and son, but received no answer, only kissed the boy and returned to the house.

Matteo, reached a small ravine, ordered his son to pray. The boy read all the prayers he knew, interrupted only when he asked his father for forgiveness. Mateo shot his son, without looking at the body, returned home. He told his wife that his son died a Christian and he would order a memorial service for him. He took a shovel and went to bury the boy's body.

Compositions

The image of Matteo Falcone in P. Merime's story "Matteo Falcone" Review of the short story by P. Merimee "Matteo Falcone"

If you go northwest from Porto-Vecchio 1, into the interior of the island, then the terrain will begin to rise rather steeply, and after a three-hour walk along winding paths cluttered with large fragments of rocks and in some places crossed by ravines, you will come to extensive thickets of maquis. Maquis is the birthplace of the Corsican shepherds and all those who are at odds with justice. It must be said that the Corsican farmer, not wanting to take the trouble of manuring his field, burns out part of the forest: it is not his concern if the fire spreads further than necessary; whatever it is, he is sure that he will get a good harvest on the land fertilized with the ashes of the burned trees. After the ears are harvested (the straw is left, as it is difficult to remove), the roots of the trees, remaining intact in the ground, start up frequent shoots the next spring; in a few years they reach a height of seven or eight feet. It is this dense growth that is called poppies. It consists of a wide variety of trees and shrubs, mixed up at random. Only with an ax in hand can a man cut a path through them; and there are poppies so thick and impenetrable that even mouflons 2 cannot get through them.

If you have killed a man, run to the maquis of Porto-Vecchio, and you will live there in safety, with good weapons, gunpowder and bullets; do not forget to bring a brown cloak with a hood - it will replace both your blanket and bedding. The shepherds will give you milk, cheese, and chestnuts, and you have nothing to fear from justice or the relatives of the slain, unless it becomes necessary to go down to the city to resupply gunpowder.

When I visited Corsica in 18 ... , the house of Matteo Falcone was half a mile from this maquis. Matteo Falcone was a fairly wealthy man in the area; he lived honestly, that is, without doing anything, on the income from his numerous herds, which the nomadic shepherds grazed in the mountains, driving from place to place. When I saw him two years after the incident I am about to relate, he could not have been more than fifty years old. Imagine a man of small stature, but strong, with curly jet-black hair, an aquiline nose, thin lips, large, lively eyes, and a face the color of raw skin. The accuracy with which he fired a gun was unusual even for this region, where there are so many good shooters. Matteo, for example, never shot a mouflon with shot, but at a distance of one hundred and twenty paces he killed him on the spot with a shot in the head or in the shoulder blade - at his choice. By night he wielded weapons as freely as during the day. I was told of an example of his dexterity that might seem implausible to someone who had not been to Corsica. Eighty paces away, a lighted candle was placed behind a sheet of translucent paper the size of a plate. He took aim, then the candle was extinguished, and a minute later in complete darkness he fired and pierced the paper three times out of four.

Such unusually high art brought Matteo Falcone great fame. He was considered as good a friend as he was a dangerous enemy; however, helpful to friends and generous to the poor, he lived in peace with everyone in the district of Porto-Vecchio. But it was said about him that in Korte, from where he took his wife, he brutally dealt with a rival who was reputed to be a dangerous person, both in war and in love; at least, Matteo was credited with a shot from a gun that overtook an opponent at the moment when he was shaving in front of a mirror hanging by the window. When this story was hushed up, Matteo got married. His wife Giuseppa bore him first three daughters (which infuriated him) and finally a son, whom he named Fortunato, the hope of the family and the successor of the family. The daughters were successfully married off: in which case the father could count on the son-in-law's daggers and carbines. The son was only ten years old, but he already showed great promise.

One early autumn morning, Matteo and his wife went to the maquis to look at their herds, which were grazing in the clearing. Little Fortunato wanted to go with them, but the pasture was too far away, someone had to stay behind to guard the house, and his father did not take him with him. From what follows it will be seen how he had to repent of that.

Several hours had passed since they left; little Fortunato was lying quietly in the very sun, and looking at the blue mountains, he thought that next Sunday he would go to dinner in the city with his uncle caporale, when suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a shot from a rifle. He jumped up and turned towards the plain where the sound had come from. Again, at irregular intervals, shots were heard, closer and closer; Finally, on the path leading from the plain to Matteo's house, a man appeared, covered with rags, overgrown with a beard, in a pointed hat, such as mountaineers wear. He could hardly move his legs, leaning on the gun. He had just been shot in the thigh.

It was a bandit who, having gone to the city at night for gunpowder, was ambushed by Corsican voltigeurs. He fired furiously and eventually managed to escape from the chase, hiding behind the ledges of rocks. But he was not far ahead of the soldiers: the wound did not allow him to reach the maquis.

He approached Fortunato and asked:

Are you Matteo Falcone's son?

I am Giannetto Sanpiero. The yellow collars are chasing me. Hide me, I can't go anymore.

What will my father say if I hide you without his permission?

He will say that you did well.

How to know!

Hide me quickly, they're coming here!

Wait until your father comes back.

Wait? Damn! Yes, they'll be here in five minutes. Come on, hide me quickly, or I'll kill you!

Fortunato answered him with complete composure:

Your gun is unloaded, and there are no more cartridges in your carchera.

I have a dagger.

Where can you follow me!

In one leap, he was out of danger.

No, you are not the son of Matteo Falcone! Are you going to allow me to be captured outside your house?

This must have had an effect on the boy.

What will you give me if I hide you? he asked, approaching.

The bandit rummaged in a leather bag hanging from his belt and pulled out a five-franc coin, which he probably hid to buy gunpowder. Fortunato smiled at the sight of the silver coin; he seized her and said to Giannetto:

Don't be afraid of anything.

Immediately he made a large hole in a haystack that stood near the house. Giannetto curled up in it, and the boy covered it with hay so that the air penetrated there and he had something to breathe. It would never have occurred to anyone that someone was hidden in the mop. In addition, with the cunning of a savage, he came up with another trick. He brought a cat with kittens and put it on the hay so that it looked as if it had not been stirred for a long time. Then, noticing traces of blood on the path near the house, he carefully covered them with earth and again, as if nothing had happened, stretched out in the sun.

A few minutes later, six riflemen in brown uniforms with yellow collars, under the command of a sergeant, were already standing in front of Matteo's house. This sergeant was a distant relative of Falcone. (It is known that in Corsica more than anywhere else they are considered kinship.) His name was Teodoro Gamba. He was a very active man, a storm of bandits, whom he caught quite a few.

Hello, nephew! he said, going up to Fortunato. - How did you grow up! Has anyone passed by here just now?

Well, uncle, I'm not as big as you yet! - answered the boy with a simple-hearted look.

Grow up! Well, tell me: no one passed here?

Has anyone been through here?

Yes, a man in a pointed velvet hat and a jacket embroidered in red and yellow.

A man in a pointed velvet cap and jacket embroidered in red and yellow?

Yes. Answer quickly and do not repeat my questions.

This morning a priest rode past us on his horse Pierrot. He asked how his father was doing, and I answered him ...

Ah, rogue! You are cunning! Answer quickly, where did Giannetto go, we are looking for him. He walked this path, I'm sure of it.

How much do I know?

How much do you know? And I know that you saw him.

Do you see passers-by when you sleep?

You haven't slept, you bastard! The shots woke you up.

Do you think, uncle, that your guns fire so loudly? Father's carbine shoots much louder.

Damn you, you damned brat! I'm sure you saw Giannetto. Maybe even hid it. Guys! Enter the house, look for our fugitive there. He hobbled on one paw, and this bastard has too much common sense to try to walk to the maquis with a limp. Yes, and traces of blood end here.

What will the father say? asked Fortunato mockingly. - What will he say when he finds out that without him they entered our house?

Scammer! - said Gamba, grabbing his ear. - I only have to want, and you will sing in a different way! It should, perhaps, give you a dozen or two blows with a flat saber so that you finally speak.

And Fortunato continued to laugh.

My father is Matteo Falcone! he said significantly.

Do you know, rascal, that I can take you to Corte 4 or Bastia 5, throw you in jail on straw, shackle you and cut off your head, if you do not tell me where Giannetto Sanpiero is?

The boy burst out laughing at such a ridiculous threat. He repeated:

My father is Matteo Falcone.

Sergeant! one of the voltigeurs said softly. - No need to quarrel with Matteo.

Gamba was clearly in trouble. He spoke in an undertone to the soldiers, who had already inspected the entire house. This did not take much time, because the Corsican's dwelling consists of one square room. A table, benches, a chest, household utensils and hunting accessories - that's all its furnishings. Little Fortunato meanwhile was stroking the cat, and seemed to be mocking at the embarrassment of the voltigeurs and the uncle.

One of the soldiers approached the haystack. He saw the cat, and carelessly jabbing his bayonet into the hay, shrugged his shoulders, as if realizing that such a precaution was absurd. Nothing moved, the boy's face did not show the slightest emotion.

The sergeant and his squad were losing patience; they were already looking at the plain, as if about to return to where they came from, but then their boss, making sure that the threats did not make any impression on the son of Falcone, decided to make a last attempt and test the power of affection and bribery.

Nephew! he said. - You seem like a nice boy. You will go far. But, damn it, you are playing a bad game with me, and if it were not for the fear of upsetting my brother Matteo, I would have taken you with me.

What more!

But when Matteo comes back, I will tell him everything, and for your lies he will give you a good beating.

We'll see!

You'll see... But listen: be smart, and I'll give you something.

And I, uncle, will give you advice: if you hesitate, Giannetto will go into the maquis, and then it will take a few more youngsters like you to catch up with him.

The sergeant pulled out of his pocket a silver watch, which cost a good ten crowns, and, noticing that the eyes of little Fortunato lit up at the sight of it, he said to him, holding the watch hanging by the end of the steel chain:

Rogue! You would probably like to wear such a watch on your chest, you would walk proudly through the streets of Porto-Vecchio, like a peacock, and when passers-by would ask you: “What time is it?” - you would answer: "Look at my watch."

When I grow up, my uncle corporal will give me a watch.

Yes, but your uncle's son already has a watch... though not as beautiful as this one... and he's younger than you.

The boy sighed.

Well, do you want this watch, nephew?

Fortunato, glancing askance at his watch, was like a cat being offered a whole chicken. Feeling that he is being teased, he does not dare to stick his claws into him, from time to time he averts his eyes to resist the temptation, licks his lips every minute and with his whole appearance seems to say to the owner: “How cruel your joke is!”

However, Sergeant Gamba seemed to really decide to give him a watch. Fortunato did not extend his hand behind them, but said to him with a bitter smile:

Why are you laughing at me?

Oh god, I'm not laughing. Just tell me where Giannetto is, and the watch is yours.

Fortunato smiled incredulously, his black eyes fixed on the sergeant's, he tried to read in them how much he could believe his words.

Let them take off my epaulettes, - cried the sergeant, - if you don’t get a watch for this! The soldiers will be witnesses that I will not go back on my words.

As he spoke, he brought the watch closer and closer to Fortunato, almost touching the boy's pale cheek with it. Fortunato's face clearly reflected the struggle that had flared up in his soul between the passionate desire to receive a watch and the duty of hospitality. His bare chest heaved heavily - it seemed that he was about to suffocate. And the clock swayed in front of him, spinning, now and then touching the tip of his nose. Finally, Fortunato hesitantly reached for the watch, the fingers of his right hand touched it, the watch lay on his palm, although the sergeant still did not let go of the chain ... Blue dial ... Brightly polished cover ... It burns with fire in the sun ... The temptation was too great.

Fortunato raised his left hand and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the haystack he was leaning against. The sergeant understood immediately. He let go of the end of the chain, and Fortunato felt like he was the sole owner of the watch. He jumped up faster than a doe and ran ten paces away from the shock, which the voltigeurs immediately began to scatter.

The hay stirred, and a bloodied man with a dagger in his hand crawled out of the hay; he tried to stand on his feet, but the clotted wound prevented him from doing so. He fell. The sergeant rushed at him and pulled out the dagger. He was immediately tied hand and foot, despite resistance.

Lying on the ground, twisted like a bundle of brushwood, Giannetto turned his head towards Fortunato, who approached him.

- …a son! he said more contemptuously than angrily.

The boy tossed him a silver coin which he had given him—he knew he no longer had any right to it—but the culprit seemed to take no notice of it. With complete composure, he said to the sergeant:

Dear Gamba! I can't go; you have to carry me to the city.

You just ran faster than a goat, objected the cruel conqueror. “But be calm: for joy that you finally fell into my hands, I would carry you on my own back for a mile without feeling tired. However, friend, we will make a stretcher for you out of branches and your cloak, and we will find horses at the Crespoli farm.

All right, - said the prisoner, - just add a little straw to the stretcher, so that I can be more comfortable.

While the voltigeurs were busy, some preparing a stretcher from chestnut branches, some dressing Giannetto's wound, Matteo Falcone and his wife suddenly appeared at the turn of the path that led to the maquis. The woman walked with difficulty, bent under the weight of a huge bag of chestnuts, while the husband walked lightly with one gun in his hands and the other behind his back, for no burden but a weapon is unworthy of a man.

At the sight of the soldiers, Matteo first of all thought that they had come to arrest him. Where does such an idea come from? Did Matteo have any trouble with the authorities? No, his name was well known. He was, as they say, a well-intentioned philistine, but at the same time a Corsican and a mountaineer, and which of the Corsican mountaineers, having carefully rummaged through his memory, will not find some sin in his past: a shot from a rifle, a blow with a dagger, or some similar trifle ? Matteo's conscience was clearer than anyone's, for it had been ten years since he had turned the muzzle of his gun on a man, but he was still on his guard and prepared to defend himself staunchly if necessary.

Wife! he said to Giuseppe. - Put down the bag and be ready.

She immediately obeyed. He handed her a gun that hung behind him and could interfere with him. He took aim at the second gun and began to slowly approach the house, keeping close to the trees that bordered the road, ready at the slightest hostile action to take cover behind the thickest trunk, from where he could shoot from behind cover. Giuseppa followed him, holding a second gun and a bandolier. The duty of a good wife is to load a gun for her husband during a fight.

The sergeant, too, felt somewhat uncomfortable when he saw Matteo slowly approaching with a rifle at the ready and a finger on the trigger.

“But what,” he thought, “if Matteo is a relative or friend of Giannetto and wants to protect him? Then two of us will surely get bullets from his guns like letters from the post office. Well, what if he aims at me, despite our relationship? .. "

Finally, he made a bold decision - to meet Matteo and, like an old acquaintance, tell him about everything that happened. However, the short distance separating him from Matteo seemed terribly long to him.

Hey buddy! he shouted. - How are you, buddy? It's me, Gamba, your relative!

Matteo stopped without saying a word; while the sergeant spoke, he slowly raised the muzzle of his gun so that it was pointing skyward at the moment the sergeant approached.

Good afternoon brother! said the sergeant, holding out his hand. - We haven't seen each other for a long time.

Good afternoon brother!

I came by to say hello to you and Sister Peppa. Today we made a fair finish, but we have too noble booty, and we cannot complain of fatigue. We just covered Giannetto Sanpiero.

God bless! Giuseppa screamed. “He stole a dairy goat from us last week.

These words delighted Gamba.

Poor fellow! Matteo replied. - He was hungry!

That scoundrel defended himself like a lion,” continued the sergeant, a little annoyed. “He killed one of my shooters and crushed Corporal Chardon's arm; Well, yes, this is not a big problem: after all, Chardon is French ... And then he hid so well that the devil himself would not have found him. If not for my nephew Fortunato, I would never have found him.

Fortunato? exclaimed Matteo.

Fortunato? repeated Giuseppa.

Yes! Giannetto hid in that haystack over there, but his nephew discovered his trick. I will tell his uncle the corporal about this, and he will send him a good gift as a reward. And I will mention both him and you in the report addressed to the prosecutor.

Damn! Matteo spoke softly.

They approached the group. Giannetto was lying on a stretcher, they were going to carry him away. Seeing Matteo next to Gamba, he somehow grinned strangely, and then, turning to face the house, spat on the threshold and said:

Traitor's home!

Only a man doomed to death could dare to call Falcone a traitor. A blow from a dagger would immediately repay the insult, and such a blow would not have to be repeated.

However, Matteo raised only his hand to his forehead, like a heartbroken man.

Fortunato, seeing his father, went into the house. Soon he reappeared with a bowl of milk in his hands and, lowering his eyes, handed it to Giannetto.

Then, turning to one of the voltigeurs, he said:

Comrade! Give me a drink.

The soldier handed him a flask, and the bandit drank the water offered by the hand of the man with whom he had just exchanged shots. Then he asked not to twist his hands behind his back, but to tie them in a cross on his chest.

I like to lie comfortably,” he said.

His request was readily granted; then the sergeant signaled to start, said goodbye to Matteo, and, receiving no answer, moved quickly towards the plain.

About ten minutes passed, and Matteo remained silent. The boy glanced anxiously first at his mother, then at his father, who, leaning on his gun, looked at his son with an expression of restrained anger.

Good start! Matteo finally said in a calm voice, but terrible for those who knew this man.

Father! - cried the boy; his eyes filled with tears, he took a step forward, as if about to fall on his knees before him.

But Matteo shouted:

And the boy, sobbing, stopped motionless a few paces from his father.

Giuseppa arrived. She noticed the watch chain, the end of which stuck out from under Fortunato's shirt.

Who gave you this watch? she asked sternly.

Uncle Sgt.

Falcone snatched out the watch and, throwing it with force against a stone, smashed it to smithereens.

Wife! - he said. - Is this my child?

Giuseppa's swarthy cheeks were brick red.

Watch out, Matteo! Think about who you're talking to!

So this child is the first in our family to become a traitor.

Fortunato's sobs and sobs intensified, and Falcone still fixed his lynx eyes on him. Finally, he banged his butt on the ground and, throwing his gun over his shoulder, went along the road to the maquis, ordering Fortunato to follow him. The boy obeyed.

Giuseppa rushed to Matteo and grabbed his arm.

After all, this is your son! she cried in a trembling voice, glaring her black eyes into her husband's eyes and as if trying to read what was going on in his soul.

Leave me, - said Matteo. - I'm his father!

Giuseppa kissed her son and, crying, returned to the house. She threw herself on her knees in front of the image of the Mother of God and began to pray fervently. Meanwhile, Falcone, having walked two hundred paces along the path, descended into a small ravine. After testing the earth with a butt, he was convinced that the earth was loose and that it would be easy to dig it. The place seemed to him suitable for the fulfillment of his plan.

Fortunato! Stand by that big stone.

Fulfilling his order, Fortunato fell to his knees.

Father! Father! Do not kill me!

Pray! repeated Matteo menacingly.

Stuttering and crying, the boy read "Our Father" and "I believe." The father at the end of each prayer firmly said "Amen".

Do you know more prayers?

Father! I also know the Mother of God and the litany that my aunt taught me.

It is very long… Well, anyway, read on.

The boy finished the litany without a sound.

Are you finished?

Father, have mercy! Forgive me! I will never again! I'll ask Uncle Corporal to pardon Giannetto!

He babbled something else; Matteo raised his gun and, taking aim, said:

God forgive you!

Fortunato made a desperate effort to get up and fall at his father's feet, but he did not succeed. Matteo fired and the boy fell dead.

Without even looking at the corpse, Matteo went along the path to the house for a shovel to bury his son. Before he had gone a few steps, he saw Giuseppa: she was running, alarmed by the shot.

What did you do? - she exclaimed.

He did justice.

In the ravine. I will bury him now. He died a Christian. I will order a memorial service for him. I must tell my son-in-law, Theodore Bianchi, to come live with us.

1 Porto-Vecchio is a city and port on the southeast coast of Corsica.

2 Mouflons are a breed of wild sheep, larger than domestic ones, and with coarser wool.

3 When in the year 18… I visited Corsica… - in fact, Merimee, while working on the novella, had never been to Corsica; he visited this island only in September 1839 (which he told in Notes on a Voyage in Corsica, 1840).

4 Corte is a city in the center of Corsica.

5 Bastia is a city and port on the northeast coast of Corsica.