Alexander Kuprin - Gutta-percha boy. Stories by Russian writers for children. Alexander Kuprin: Stories for children Children's short works by A and Kuprin

Barbos was short in stature, but squat and broad-chested. Thanks to his long, slightly curly hair, there was a vague resemblance to a white poodle, but only to a poodle that had never been touched by soap, a comb, or scissors. In the summer, he was constantly strewn with thorny “burrs” from head to tail, but in the fall, the tufts of fur on his legs and stomach, rolling around in the mud and then drying out, turned into hundreds of brown, dangling stalactites. Barbos' ears always bore traces of "battles", and during particularly hot periods of dog flirting they actually turned into bizarre festoons. From time immemorial and everywhere dogs like him are called Barbos. Only occasionally, and even then as an exception, are they called Friends. These dogs, if I'm not mistaken, come from simple mongrels and shepherd dogs. They are distinguished by loyalty, independent character and keen hearing.

Zhulka also belonged to a very common breed of small dogs, those thin-legged dogs with smooth black fur and yellow markings above the eyebrows and on the chest, which retired officials love so much. The main feature of her character was delicate, almost shy politeness. This does not mean that she immediately rolls over on her back, starts smiling, or humiliatingly crawls on her stomach as soon as a person speaks to her (all hypocritical, flattering and cowardly dogs do this). No, she approached a kind man with her characteristic bold trustfulness, leaned on his knee with her front paws and gently extended her muzzle, demanding affection. Her delicacy was expressed mainly in her manner of eating. She never begged; on the contrary, she always had to beg to take a bone. If another dog or people approached her while she was eating, Zhulka would modestly step aside with an expression that seemed to say: “Eat, eat, please... I’m already completely full...”

Really, at these moments there was much less of a dog in her than in other respectable human faces during a good dinner. Of course, Zhulka was unanimously recognized as a lap dog.

As for Barbos, we children very often had to defend him from the just wrath of his elders and lifelong banishment to the courtyard. Firstly, he had a very vague concept of property rights (especially when it came to food supplies), and secondly, he was not particularly neat in the toilet. It was easy for this robber to gobble up in one sitting a good half of a roasted Easter turkey, raised with special love and fed only nuts, or to lie down, having just jumped out of a deep and dirty puddle, on the festive blanket of his mother’s bed, white as snow. In the summer they treated him leniently, and he usually lay on the sill of an open window in the pose of a sleeping lion, with his muzzle buried between his outstretched front paws. However, he was not sleeping: this was noticeable by his eyebrows, which did not stop moving all the time. Barbos was waiting... As soon as a dog's figure appeared on the street opposite our house. Barbos quickly rolled off the window, slid on his belly into the gateway and rushed at full speed towards the daring violator of territorial laws. He firmly remembered the great law of all martial arts and battles: hit first if you don’t want to be beaten, and therefore flatly refused all diplomatic techniques accepted in the dog world, such as preliminary mutual sniffing, threatening growling, curling the tail in a ring, and so on. Barbos, like lightning, overtook his opponent, knocked him off his feet with his chest and began to squabble. For several minutes, two dog bodies floundered in a thick column of brown dust, intertwined in a ball. Finally, Barbos won. While the enemy took flight, tucking his tail between his legs, squealing and cowardly looking back. Barbos proudly returned to his post on the windowsill. It is true that sometimes during this triumphal procession he limped greatly, and his ears were decorated with extra festoons, but probably the sweeter the victorious laurels seemed to him. A rare harmony and the most tender love reigned between him and Zhulka.

Perhaps Zhulka secretly condemned her friend for his violent temper and bad manners, but in any case, she never explicitly expressed this. She even then restrained her displeasure when Barbos, having swallowed his breakfast in several doses, brazenly licked his lips, approached Zhulka’s bowl and stuck his wet, furry muzzle into it.

In the evening, when the sun was not so hot, both dogs loved to play and tinker in the yard. They either ran from one another, or set up ambushes, or with a feigned angry growl pretended to be fiercely squabbling among themselves. One day a mad dog ran into our yard. Barbos saw her from his windowsill, but instead of rushing into battle, as usual, he only trembled all over and squealed pitifully. The dog rushed around the yard from corner to corner, causing panic fear in both people and animals with its very appearance. People hid behind the doors and timidly looked out from behind them. Everyone shouted, gave orders, gave stupid advice and egged each other on. Meanwhile, the mad dog had already bitten two pigs and torn apart several ducks. Suddenly everyone gasped in fear and surprise. From somewhere behind the barn, little Zhulka jumped out and, with all the speed of her thin legs, rushed across the mad dog. The distance between them decreased with amazing speed. Then they collided...
It all happened so quickly that no one even had time to call Zhulka back. From a strong push she fell and rolled on the ground, and the mad dog immediately turned towards the gate and jumped out into the street. When Zhulka was examined, not a single trace of teeth was found on her. The dog probably didn’t even have time to bite her. But the tension of the heroic impulse and the horror of the moments experienced were not in vain for poor Zhulka... Something strange, inexplicable happened to her.
If dogs had the ability to go crazy, I would say she was crazy. One day she lost weight beyond recognition; sometimes she would lie for hours at a time in some dark corner; Then she rushed around the yard, spinning and jumping. She refused food and did not turn around when her name was called. On the third day she became so weak that she could not get up from the ground. Her eyes, as bright and intelligent as before, expressed deep inner torment. By order of her father, she was carried to an empty woodshed so that she could die there in peace. (After all, it is known that only man arranges his death so solemnly. But all animals, sensing the approach of this disgusting act, seek solitude.)
An hour after Zhulka was locked up, Barbos came running to the barn. He was very excited and began to squeal and then howl, raising his head up. Sometimes he would stop for a minute to sniff, with an anxious look and alert ears, the crack of the barn door, and then again he would howl protractedly and pitifully. They tried to call him away from the barn, but it didn’t help. He was chased and even hit with a rope several times; he ran away, but immediately stubbornly returned to his place and continued to howl. Since children are generally much closer to animals than adults think, we were the first to guess what Barbos wanted.
- Dad, let Barbos into the barn. He wants to say goodbye to Zhulka. Please let me in, dad,” we pestered my father. At first he said: “Nonsense!” But we came at him so much and whined so much that he had to give in.
And we were right. As soon as the barn door was opened, Barbos rushed headlong to Zhulka, who was lying helplessly on the ground, sniffed her and, with a quiet squeal, began to lick her in the eyes, in the muzzle, in the ears. Zhulka weakly waved her tail and tried to raise her head, but she failed. There was something touching about the dogs saying goodbye. Even the servants, who were gawking at this scene, seemed touched. When Barbos was called, he obeyed and, leaving the barn, lay down on the ground near the door. He no longer worried or howled, but only occasionally raised his head and seemed to listen to what was happening in the barn. About two hours later he howled again, but so loudly and so expressively that the coachman had to take out the keys and open the doors. Zhulka lay motionless on her side. She died...
1897

Sapsan's thoughts about people, animals, objects and events

V. P. Priklonsky

I am Sapsan, a large and strong dog of a rare breed, red sand color, four years old, and weigh about six and a half pounds. Last spring, in someone else’s huge barn, where there were a little more than seven of us dogs locked up (I can’t count further), they hung a heavy yellow cake around my neck, and everyone praised me. However, the cake did not smell of anything.

I'm a Medellian! The owner's friend assures that this name is spoiled. We should say “weeks”. In ancient times, fun was organized for the people once a week: they pitted bears against dogs. Hence the word. My great-ancestor Sapsan I, in the presence of the formidable Tsar John IV, took the bear-vulture “in place” by the throat, threw it to the ground, where he was pinned by the korytnik. In honor and memory of him, the best of my ancestors bore the name Sapsan. Few granted counts can boast of such a pedigree. What brings me closer to representatives of ancient human families is that our blood, according to knowledgeable people, is blue. The name Sapsan is Kyrgyz, and it means a hawk.

The first creature in the whole world is the Master. I am not his slave at all, not even a servant or watchman, as others think, but a friend and patron. People, these naked animals, walking on their hind legs, wearing other people's skins, are ridiculously unstable, weak, awkward and defenseless, but they have some kind of incomprehensible to us, wonderful and slightly terrible power, and most of all - the Master. I love this strange power in him, and he appreciates in me strength, dexterity, courage and intelligence. This is how we live.

The owner is ambitious. When we walk side by side along the street - I’m at his right foot - we can always hear flattering remarks behind us: “What a dog... a whole lion... what a wonderful face” and so on. In no way do I let the Master know that I hear these praises and that I know to whom they apply. But I feel his funny, naive, proud joy being transmitted to me through invisible threads. Oddball. Let him amuse himself. I find him even sweeter with his little weaknesses.

I'm strong. I am stronger than all the dogs in the world. They will recognize it from afar, by my smell, by my appearance, by my gaze. From a distance I see their souls lying in front of me on their backs, with their paws raised up. The strict rules of dog fighting prevent me from the beautiful, noble joy of fighting. And how sometimes you want to!.. However, the big tiger mastiff from the next street completely stopped leaving the house after I taught him a lesson for impoliteness. And I, passing by the fence behind which he lived, no longer smelled him.

People are not the same. They always crush the weak. Even the Master, the kindest of people, sometimes hits so hard - not at all loudly, but cruelly - with the words of others, small and weak, that I feel ashamed and sorry. I quietly poke his hand with my nose, but he doesn’t understand and waves it away.

We dogs are seven and many times more subtle than people in terms of nervous sensitivity. People need external differences, words, voice changes, glances and touches to understand each other. I know their souls simply, with one inner instinct. I feel in secret, unknown, trembling ways how their souls blush, turn pale, tremble, envy, love, hate. When the Master is not at home, I know from afar whether happiness or misfortune has befallen him. And I'm happy or sad.

They say about us: such and such a dog is good or such and such is evil. No. Only a person can be angry or kind, brave or cowardly, generous or stingy, trusting or secretive. And according to him, the dogs living with him under the same roof.

I let people pet me. But I prefer if they offer me an open hand first. I don't like paws with claws up. Many years of canine experience teaches that a stone may be hidden in it. (The Master’s youngest daughter, my favorite, does not know how to pronounce “stone”, but says “cabin”.) A stone is a thing that flies far, hits accurately and hits painfully. I've seen this on other dogs. It’s clear that no one will dare throw a stone at me!

What nonsense people say, as if dogs cannot stand the human gaze. I can look into the eyes of the Master for the whole evening without stopping. But we avert our eyes out of disgust. Most people, even young ones, have a tired, dull and angry look, like old, sick, nervous, spoiled, wheezing mozzies. But children's eyes are clean, clear and trusting. When children caress me, I can hardly restrain myself from licking one of them right on the pink face. But the Master does not allow it, and sometimes even threatens him with a whip. Why? I don't understand. Even he has his own quirks.

About the bone. Who doesn't know that this is the most fascinating thing in the world. Veins, cartilage, the inside is spongy, tasty, soaked in brain. You can happily work on this entertaining puzzle from breakfast to lunch. And I think so: a bone is always a bone, even the most used one, and therefore it’s always not too late to have fun with it. And that’s why I bury it in the ground in the garden or vegetable garden. In addition, I think: there was meat on her and there is none; why, if he does not exist, should he not exist again?

And if anyone - a person, a cat or a dog - passes by the place where she is buried, I get angry and growl. What if they figure it out? But more often I forget the place myself, and then I’m out of sorts for a long time.

The Master tells me to respect the Mistress. And I respect. But I don't like it. She has the soul of a pretender and a liar, small, small. And her face, when viewed from the side, is very similar to that of a chicken. Just as preoccupied, anxious and cruel, with a round, incredulous eye. In addition, she always smells very badly of something sharp, spicy, acrid, suffocating, sweet - seven times worse than the most fragrant flowers. When I smell it strongly, I lose the ability to understand other smells for a long time. And I keep sneezing.

Only Serge smells worse than her. The owner calls him a friend and loves him. My master, so smart, is often a big fool. I know that Serge hates the Master, fears him and envies him. And Serge is ingratiating himself with me. When he extends his hand to me from afar, I feel a sticky, hostile, cowardly trembling coming from his fingers. I will growl and turn away. I will never accept any bones or sugar from him. While the Master is not at home, and Serge and the Mistress hug each other with their front paws, I lie on the carpet and look at them, intently, without blinking. He laughs tightly and says: “Sapsan looks at us as if he understands everything.” You're lying, I don't understand everything about human meanness. But I foresee all the sweetness of that moment when the Master’s will will push me and I will grab your fat caviar with all my teeth. Arrrrr... ghrr...

After the Master, “Little” is closest to my dog’s heart - that’s what I call His daughter. I wouldn’t forgive anyone but her if they decided to drag me by the tail and ears, sit astride me or harness me to a cart. But I endure everything and squeal like a three-month-old puppy. And it makes me happy to lie motionless in the evenings when she, having run around for the day, suddenly dozes off on the carpet, her head resting on my side. And when we play, she also doesn’t get offended if I sometimes wave my tail and knock her to the floor.

Sometimes we mess with her, and she starts laughing. I love it very much, but I can’t do it myself. Then I jump up with all four paws and bark as loud as I can. And they usually drag me out into the street by my collar. Why?

In the summer there was such an incident at the dacha. The “little one” could barely walk and was very funny. The three of us were walking. She, me and the nanny. Suddenly everyone began to rush around - people and animals. In the middle of the street a dog was racing, black with white spots, with its head down, tail hanging, covered in dust and foam. The nanny ran away screaming. The “little one” sat down on the ground and squealed. The dog was rushing straight towards us. And this dog immediately gave me a sharp smell of madness and boundless, rabid anger. I trembled with horror, but overcame myself and blocked “Little” with my body.

This was not a single combat, but death for one of us. I curled up into a ball, waited for a short, precise moment, and with one push I knocked the motley one over to the ground. Then he lifted him up into the air by the collar and shook him. She lay down on the ground without moving, so flat and now not at all scary.

I don’t like moonlit nights, and I have an unbearable desire to howl when I look at the sky. It seems to me that someone very big is guarding from there, larger than the Owner himself, the one whom the Owner so incomprehensibly calls “Eternity” or something else. Then I vaguely have a presentiment that my life will someday end, just as the lives of dogs, beetles and plants end. Will the Master come to me then, before the end? - I don't know. I would really like that. But even if he doesn’t come, my last thought will still be about him.

Starlings

It was mid-March. Spring this year turned out to be smooth and friendly. Occasionally there were heavy but short rains. We have already driven on wheels on roads covered with thick mud. The snow still lay in drifts in the deep forests and in the shady ravines, but in the fields it settled, became loose and dark, and from under it, in some places, black, greasy soil steaming in the sun appeared in large bald patches. The birch buds are swollen. The lambs on the willows turned from white to yellow, fluffy and huge. The willow blossomed. The bees flew out of the hives for the first bribe. The first snowdrops timidly appeared in the forest clearings.

We were looking forward to seeing old friends fly into our garden again - starlings, these cute, cheerful, sociable birds, the first migratory guests, the joyful messengers of spring. They need to fly many hundreds of miles from their winter camps, from the south of Europe, from Asia Minor, from the northern regions of Africa. Others will have to travel more than three thousand miles. Many will fly over the seas: Mediterranean or Black.

There are so many adventures and dangers along the way: rains, storms, dense fogs, hail clouds, birds of prey, shots from greedy hunters. How much incredible effort a small creature weighing about twenty to twenty-five spools must use for such a flight. Truly, the shooters who destroy the bird during the difficult journey, when, obeying the mighty call of nature, it strives to the place where it first hatched from the egg and saw sunlight and greenery, have no heart.

Animals have a lot of their own wisdom, incomprehensible to people. Birds are especially sensitive to weather changes and predict them long ago, but it often happens that migratory wanderers in the middle of a vast sea are suddenly overtaken by a sudden hurricane, often with snow. The coast is far away, the strength is weakened by the long flight... Then the entire flock dies, with the exception of a small part of the strongest. Happiness for the birds if they encounter a sea vessel in these terrible moments. In a whole cloud they descend on the deck, on the wheelhouse, on the rigging, on the sides, as if entrusting their little lives in danger to the eternal enemy - man. And stern sailors will never offend them, will not offend their reverent gullibility. A beautiful sea legend even says that inevitable misfortune threatens the ship on which the bird that asked for shelter was killed.

Coastal lighthouses can sometimes be disastrous. Lighthouse keepers sometimes find in the mornings, after foggy nights, hundreds and even thousands of bird corpses in the galleries surrounding the lantern and on the ground around the building. Exhausted from the flight, heavy from the sea moisture, the birds, having reached the shore in the evening, unconsciously rush to where they are deceptively attracted by light and warmth, and in their fast flight they smash their chests against thick glass, iron and stone. But an experienced, old leader will always save his flock from this misfortune by taking a different direction in advance. Birds also hit telegraph wires if for some reason they fly low, especially at night and in fog.

Having made a dangerous crossing across the sea plain, starlings rest all day and always in a certain, favorite place from year to year. I once saw one such place in Odessa, in the spring. This is a house on the corner of Preobrazhenskaya Street and Cathedral Square, opposite the cathedral garden. This house was then completely black and seemed to be all stirring from the great multitude of starlings that settled everywhere: on the roof, on the balconies, cornices, window sills, trim, window visors and on the moldings. And the sagging telegraph and telephone wires were closely strung with them, like large black rosaries. My God, there was so much deafening screaming, squeaking, whistling, chattering, chirping and all sorts of bustle, chatter and quarrel. Despite their recent fatigue, they certainly could not sit still for a minute. Every now and then they pushed each other, falling up and down, circling, flying away and returning again. Only old, experienced, wise starlings sat in important solitude and sedately cleaned their feathers with their beaks. The entire sidewalk along the house turned white, and if a careless pedestrian happened to gape, then trouble threatened his coat and hat. Starlings make their flights very quickly, sometimes making up to eighty miles per hour. They will fly to a familiar place early in the evening, feed themselves, take a short nap at night, in the morning - before dawn - a light breakfast, and again set off, with two or three stops in the middle of the day.

So, we waited for the starlings. We fixed old birdhouses that had become warped from the winter winds and hung new ones. Three years ago we had only two of them, last year five, and now twelve. It was a little annoying that the sparrows imagined that this courtesy was being done for them, and immediately, at the first warmth, the birdhouses took over. This sparrow is an amazing bird, and everywhere it is the same - in the north of Norway and on the Azores: nimble, rogue, thief, bully, brawler, gossip and the most impudent one. He will spend the whole winter, ruffled under a fence or in the depths of a dense spruce, eating what he finds on the road, and as soon as spring comes, he climbs into someone else’s nest, which is closer to home - into a birdhouse or swallow. And they kick him out, as if nothing had happened... He flutters, jumps, sparkles with his little eyes and shouts to the whole universe: “Alive, alive, alive! Alive, alive, alive!

Please tell me what good news for the world!

Finally, on the nineteenth, in the evening (it was still light), someone shouted: “Look - starlings!”

Indeed, they sat high on the branches of poplars and, after the sparrows, seemed unusually large and too black. We began to count them: one, two, five, ten, fifteen... And next to the neighbors, among the transparent spring-like trees, these dark motionless lumps easily swayed on flexible branches. That evening there was no noise or fuss among the starlings. This always happens when you return home after a long, difficult journey. On the road you fuss, hurry, worry, but when you arrive, you’re suddenly all softened from the same fatigue: you sit and don’t want to move.

For two days the starlings seemed to be gaining strength and kept visiting and inspecting last year’s familiar places. And then the eviction of sparrows began. I did not notice any particularly violent clashes between starlings and sparrows. Usually, starlings sit in twos high above the birdhouses and, apparently, chatter carelessly about something among themselves, while they themselves gaze downwards with one eye, sideways. It's scary and difficult for the sparrow. No, no - he sticks his sharp, cunning nose out of the round hole - and back. Finally, hunger, frivolity, and perhaps timidity make themselves felt. “I’m flying off,” he thinks, “for a minute and right back.” Maybe I'll outwit you. Maybe they won’t notice.” And as soon as it has time to fly away a fathom, the starling drops like a stone and is already at home. And now the sparrow’s temporary economy has come to an end. Starlings guard the nest one by one: one sits while the other flies on business. Sparrows would never think of such a trick: a windy, empty, frivolous bird. And so, out of chagrin, great battles begin between the sparrows, during which fluff and feathers fly into the air.

And the starlings sit high in the trees and even tease: “Hey, black-headed one. You won’t be able to overcome that yellow-chested one forever and ever.” - "How? To me? Yes, I’ll take him now!” - “Come on, come on...” And there will be a landfill. However, in the spring all the animals and birds and even the boys fight much more than in the winter. Having settled in the nest, the starling begins to carry all kinds of construction nonsense there: moss, cotton wool, feathers, fluff, rags, straw, dry blades of grass. He makes the nest very deep, so that a cat does not crawl in with its paw or a raven sticks its long predatory beak through it. They cannot penetrate further: the entrance hole is quite small, no more than five centimeters in diameter. And then soon the ground dried up and the fragrant birch buds blossomed. Fields are plowed, vegetable gardens are dug up and loosened. How many different worms, caterpillars, slugs, bugs and larvae crawl into the light of day! It's such an expanse! In the spring, a starling never looks for its food, either in the air in flight, like swallows, or on a tree, like a nuthatch or woodpecker. Its food is on the ground and in the ground. And do you know how many insects it destroys during the summer, if you count it by weight? A thousand times its own weight! But he spends his entire day in continuous movement.

It is interesting to watch when he, walking between the beds or along the path, hunts for his prey. His gait is very fast and slightly clumsy, with a sway from side to side. Suddenly he stops, turns to one side, then to the other, bows his head first to the left, then to the right. It will quickly bite and run on. And again, and again... His black back shimmers in the sun with a metallic green or purple color, his chest is speckled with brown, and during this business there is so much in him of something businesslike, fussy and funny that you look at him for a long time and involuntarily smile .

It is best to observe the starling early in the morning, before sunrise, and for this you need to get up early. However, an old clever saying says: “He who gets up early doesn’t lose.” If you sit quietly in the morning, every day, without sudden movements somewhere in the garden or vegetable garden, then the starlings will soon get used to you and will come very close. Try throwing worms or bread crumbs to the bird, first from afar, then decreasing the distance. You will achieve the fact that after a while the starling will take food from your hands and sit on your shoulder. And when he arrives next year, he will very soon resume and conclude his former friendship with you. Just don't betray his trust. The only difference between both of you is that he is small and you are big. The bird is a very smart, observant creature: it is extremely memorable and grateful for all kindness.

And the real song of the starling should be listened to only in the early morning, when the first pink light of dawn colors the trees and with them the birdhouses, which are always located with an opening to the east. The air warmed up a little, and the starlings had already scattered on high branches and began their concert. I don’t know, really, whether the starling has his own motives, but you will hear enough of anything alien in his song. There are pieces of nightingale trills, and the sharp meow of an oriole, and the sweet voice of a robin, and the musical babbling of a warbler, and the thin whistling of a titmouse, and among these melodies such sounds are suddenly heard that, sitting alone, you can’t help but laugh: a hen cackles on a tree , the sharpener's knife will hiss, the door will creak, the children's military trumpet will blow. And, having made this unexpected musical retreat, the starling, as if nothing had happened, without a break, continues his cheerful, sweet, humorous song. One starling I knew (and only one, because I always heard it in a certain place) amazingly faithfully imitated a stork. I just imagined this venerable white black-tailed bird, when it stands on one leg on the edge of its round nest, on the roof of a Little Russian hut, and beats out a ringing shot with its long red beak. Other starlings did not know how to do this thing.

In mid-May, the mother starling lays four to five small, bluish, glossy eggs and sits on them. Now the father starling has a new duty - to entertain the female in the mornings and evenings with his singing throughout the incubation period, which lasts about two weeks. And, I must say, during this period he no longer mocks or teases anyone. Now his song is gentle, simple and extremely melodic. Maybe this is the real, only starling song?

By the beginning of June, the chicks had already hatched. The starling chick is a true monster, which consists entirely of the head, but the head only consists of a huge, yellow-edged, unusually voracious mouth. The most troublesome time has come for caring parents. No matter how much you feed the little ones, they are always hungry. And then there’s the constant fear of cats and jackdaws; It’s scary to be far from the birdhouse.

But starlings are good companions. As soon as jackdaws or crows get into the habit of circling around the nest, a watchman is immediately appointed. The starling on duty sits on the top of the tallest tree and, whistling quietly, vigilantly looks in all directions. As soon as the predators appear close, the watchman gives a signal, and the entire starling tribe flocks to protect the younger generation.

I once saw how all the starlings who were visiting me chased three jackdaws at least a mile away. What a vicious persecution this was! The starlings soared easily and quickly over the jackdaws, fell on them from a height, scattered to the sides, closed again and, catching up with the jackdaws, climbed up again for a new blow. The jackdaws seemed cowardly, clumsy, rude and helpless in their heavy flight, and the starlings were like some kind of sparkling, transparent spindles flashing in the air. But it’s already the end of July. One day you go out into the garden and listen. No starlings. You didn’t even notice how the little ones grew up and how they learned to fly. Now they have left their native homes and are leading a new life in the forests, in winter fields, near distant swamps. There they gather in small flocks and learn to fly for a long time, preparing for the autumn migration. Soon the young people will face their first, great exam, from which some will not come out alive. Occasionally, however, starlings return for a moment to their abandoned father's homes. They will fly in, circle in the air, sit on a branch near the birdhouses, frivolously whistle some newly picked up motif and fly away, sparkling with their light wings.

But the first cold weather has already set in. It's time to go. By some mysterious order of mighty nature, unknown to us, the leader gives a sign one morning, and the air cavalry, squadron after squadron, soars into the air and rapidly rushes south. Goodbye, dear starlings! Come in the spring. The nests are waiting for you...

Elephant

The little girl is unwell. Doctor Mikhail Petrovich, whom she has known for a long, long time, visits her every day. And sometimes he brings with him two more doctors, strangers. They turn the girl over on her back and stomach, listen to something, putting her ear to her body, pull her eyelids down and look. At the same time, they snort somehow importantly, their faces are stern, and they speak to each other in an incomprehensible language.

Then they move from the nursery to the living room, where their mother is waiting for them. The most important doctor - tall, gray-haired, wearing gold glasses - tells her about something seriously and at length. The door is not closed, and the girl can see and hear everything from her bed. There is a lot she doesn’t understand, but she knows that this is about her. Mom looks at the doctor with big, tired, tear-stained eyes.

Saying goodbye, the chief doctor says loudly:

The main thing is not to let her get bored. Fulfill all her whims.

Ah, doctor, but she doesn’t want anything!

Well, I don’t know... remember what she liked before, before her illness. Toys... some treats. ..

No, doctor, she doesn't want anything...

Well, try to entertain her somehow... Well, at least with something... I give you my word of honor that if you manage to make her laugh, cheer her up, it will be the best medicine. Understand that your daughter is sick with indifference to life, and nothing else. Goodbye, madam!

“Dear Nadya, my dear girl,” says my mother, “would you like anything?”

No, mom, I don’t want anything.

Do you want me to put all your dolls on your bed? We will supply an armchair, a sofa, a table and a tea set. The dolls will drink tea and talk about the weather and the health of their children.

Thank you, mom... I don't feel like it... I'm bored...

Okay, my girl, no need for dolls. Or maybe I should invite Katya or Zhenechka to come to you? You love them so much.

No need, mom. Really, it's not necessary. I don't want anything, nothing. I am so bored!

Would you like me to bring you some chocolate?

But the girl does not answer and looks at the ceiling with motionless, sad eyes. She doesn't have any pain and doesn't even have a fever. But she is losing weight and weakening every day. No matter what they do to her, she doesn’t care, and she doesn’t need anything. She lies like that all days and whole nights, quiet, sad. Sometimes she dozes off for half an hour, but even in her dreams she sees something gray, long, boring, like autumn rain.

When the door to the living room is open from the nursery, and from the living room further into the office, the girl sees her dad. Dad walks quickly from corner to corner and smokes and smokes. Sometimes he comes to the nursery, sits on the edge of the bed and quietly strokes Nadya’s legs. Then he suddenly gets up and goes to the window. He whistles something, looking down at the street, but his shoulders are shaking. Then he hastily applies a handkerchief to one eye, then to the other, and, as if angry, goes to his office. Then he again runs from corner to corner and smokes, smokes, smokes... And the office becomes all blue from tobacco smoke.

But one morning the girl wakes up a little more cheerful than usual. She saw something in a dream, but she can’t remember what exactly, and looks long and carefully into her mother’s eyes.

Do you need something? - asks mom.

But the girl suddenly remembers her dream and says in a whisper, as if in secret:

Mom... can I have... an elephant? Just not the one drawn in the picture... Is it possible?

Of course, my girl, of course you can.

She goes to the office and tells dad that the girl wants an elephant. Dad immediately puts on his coat and hat and leaves somewhere. Half an hour later he returns with an expensive, beautiful toy. This is a large gray elephant, which itself shakes its head and wags its tail; there is a red saddle on the elephant, and on the saddle there is a golden tent, and three little men are sitting in it. But the girl looks at the toy as indifferently as at the ceiling and walls, and says listlessly:

No, that's not it at all. I wanted a real, living elephant, but this one is dead.

Just look, Nadya,” says dad. “We’ll start him up now, and he’ll be just like alive.”

The elephant is wound with a key, and he, shaking his head and wagging his tail, begins to step with his feet and slowly walks along the table. The girl is not at all interested in this and is even bored, but in order not to upset her father, she whispers meekly:

I thank you very, very much, dear dad. I think no one has such an interesting toy... Only... remember... you promised for a long time to take me to the menagerie, to look at a real elephant... And you were never lucky.

But listen, my dear girl, understand that this is impossible. The elephant is very big, it reaches the ceiling, it won’t fit in our rooms... And then, where can I get it?

Dad, I don’t need such a big one... Bring me at least a small one, just a living one. Well, at least something like this... At least a baby elephant.

Dear girl, I am glad to do everything for you, but I cannot do this. After all, it’s the same as if you suddenly told me: Dad, get me the sun from the sky.

The girl smiles sadly:

How stupid you are, dad. Don't I know that you can't reach the sun because it burns! And the moon is also not allowed. But, I would like an elephant... a real one.

And she quietly closes her eyes and whispers:

I'm tired... Excuse me, dad...

Dad grabs his hair and runs into the office. There he flashes from corner to corner for some time. Then he resolutely throws the half-smoked cigarette on the floor (for which he always gets it from his mother) and shouts loudly to the maid:

Olga! Coat and hat!

The wife comes out into the hall.

Where are you going, Sasha? - she asks.

He breathes heavily, buttoning his coat buttons.

I myself, Mashenka, don’t know where... Only, it seems that by this evening I will actually bring a real elephant here, to us.

His wife looks at him worriedly.

Honey, are you okay? Do you have a headache? Maybe you didn't sleep well today?

“I didn’t sleep at all,” he replies angrily. - I see you want to ask if I'm crazy. Not yet. Goodbye! In the evening everything will be visible.

And he disappears, loudly slamming the front door.

Two hours later, he sits in the menagerie, in the first row, and watches how the learned animals, on the orders of the owner, make various things. Smart dogs jump, tumble, dance, sing to music, and form words from large cardboard letters. Monkeys - some in red skirts, others in blue pants - walk on a tightrope and ride on a large poodle. Huge red lions jump through burning hoops.

A clumsy seal shoots from a pistol. At the end the elephants are brought out. There are three of them: one big, two very small, dwarfs, but still much taller than a horse. It’s strange to watch how these huge animals, so clumsy and heavy in appearance, perform the most difficult tricks that even a very dexterous person cannot do. The largest elephant is especially distinctive. He first stands on his hind legs, sits down, stands on his head, feet up, walks on wooden bottles, walks on a rolling barrel, turns the pages of a large cardboard book with his trunk and finally sits down at the table and, tied with a napkin, has dinner, just like a well-bred boy .

The show ends. The spectators disperse. Nadya's father approaches the fat German, the owner of the menagerie. The owner stands behind a plank partition and holds a large black cigar in his mouth.

Excuse me, please,” Nadya’s father says. - Can you let your elephant go to my house for a while?

The German opens his eyes and even his mouth wide in surprise, causing the cigar to fall to the ground. Groaning, he bends down, picks up the cigar, puts it back in his mouth and only then says:

Let go? An elephant? Home? I do not understand.

It is clear from the German’s eyes that he also wants to ask if Nadya’s father has a headache... But the father hastily explains what the matter is: his only daughter Nadya is sick with some strange disease, which even the doctors do not understand properly. She has been lying in her crib for a month now, losing weight, getting weaker every day, not interested in anything, bored and slowly fading away. The doctors tell her to entertain her, but she doesn't like anything; They tell her to fulfill all her wishes, but she has no desires. Today she wanted to see a live elephant. Is it really impossible to do this?

Well... I, of course, hope that my girl will recover. But... but... what if her illness ends badly... what if the girl dies?.. Just think: all my life I will be tormented by the thought that I did not fulfill her last, very last wish!..

The German frowns and scratches his left eyebrow with his little finger in thought. Finally he asks:

Hm... How old is your girl?

Six.

Hm... My Lisa is also six. But, you know, it will cost you dearly. You will have to bring the elephant at night and only take it back the next night. During the day you can't. The public will gather and there will be a scandal... Thus, it turns out that I am losing the whole day, and you must return the loss to me.

Oh, of course, of course... don't worry about it...

Then: will the police allow one elephant into one house?

I'll arrange it. Will allow.

One more question: will the owner of your house allow one elephant into his house?

Will allow. I am the owner of this house myself.

Yeah! This is even better. And then one more question: what floor do you live on?

In the second.

Hmm... This is not so good... Do you have a wide staircase, a high ceiling, a large room, wide doors and a very strong floor in your house? Because my Tommy is three arshins and four inches high, and five and a half arshins long*. In addition, it weighs one hundred and twelve pounds.

Nadya's father thinks for a minute.

Do you know what? - he says. - Let's go to my place now and look at everything on the spot. If necessary, I will order the passage in the walls to be widened.

Very good! - the owner of the menagerie agrees.

At night, an elephant is taken to visit a sick girl. In a white blanket, he strides importantly along the very middle of the street, shaking his head and twisting and then developing his trunk. There is a large crowd around him, despite the late hour. But the elephant does not pay attention to her: every day he sees hundreds of people in the menagerie. Only once did he get a little angry. Some street boy ran up to his very feet and began to make faces for the amusement of onlookers.

Then the elephant calmly took off his hat with its trunk and threw it over a nearby fence studded with nails. The policeman walks among the crowd and persuades her:

Gentlemen, please leave. And what do you find so unusual here? I'm surprised! It’s as if we’ve never seen a live elephant on the street.

They approach the house. On the stairs, as well as along the entire path of the elephant, all the way to the dining room, all the doors were wide open, for which it was necessary to beat off the door latches with a hammer.

But in front of the stairs the elephant stops and becomes stubborn in anxiety.

We need to give him some treat... - says the German. - Some sweet bun or something... But... Tommy! Wow... Tommy!

Nadine's father runs to a nearby bakery and buys a large round pistachio cake. The elephant discovers a desire to swallow it whole along with the cardboard box, but the German only gives him a quarter. Tommy likes the cake and reaches out with his trunk for a second slice. However, the German turns out to be more cunning. Holding a delicacy in his hand, he rises up from step to step, and the elephant, with an outstretched trunk and outstretched ears, inevitably follows him. On the set, Tommy gets his second piece.

Thus, he is brought to the dining room, from where all the furniture has been removed in advance, and the floor is thickly covered with straw... The elephant is tied by the leg to a ring screwed into the floor. Fresh carrots, cabbage and turnips are placed in front of him. The German is located nearby, on the sofa. The lights are turned off and everyone goes to bed.

V

The next day the girl wakes up at dawn and first of all asks:

What about the elephant? He came?

“I’ve come,” my mother answers. - But only he ordered Nadya to wash herself first, and then eat a soft-boiled egg and drink hot milk.

Is he kind?

He is kind. Eat up, girl. Now we will go to him.

Is he funny?

A little bit. Put on a warm blouse.

The egg was eaten and the milk was drunk. Nadya is put in the same stroller in which she rode when she was still so small that she could not walk at all. And they take us to the dining room.

The elephant turns out to be much larger than Nadya thought when she looked at it in the picture. He is only slightly taller than the door, and in length he occupies half the dining room. His skin is rough, with heavy folds. The legs are thick, like pillars. A long tail with something like a broom at the end. The head is full of big bumps. The ears are large, like mugs, and hang down. The eyes are very tiny, but smart and kind. The fangs are trimmed. The trunk is like a long snake and ends in two nostrils, and between them a movable, flexible finger. If the elephant had stretched out its trunk to its full length, it would probably have reached the window.

The girl is not scared at all. She is only a little amazed by the enormous size of the animal. But the nanny, sixteen-year-old Polya, begins to squeal in fear.

The owner of the elephant, a German, comes up to the stroller and says:

Good morning, young lady! Please don't be afraid. Tommy is very kind and loves children.

The girl extends her small, pale hand to the German.

Hello. How are you? - she answers. - I'm not at all afraid. And what is his name?

Tommy.

“Hello, Tommy,” the girl says and bows her head. Because the elephant is so big, she does not dare to speak to him on a first name basis. - How did you sleep last night?

She extends her hand to him too. The elephant carefully takes and shakes her thin fingers with his mobile strong finger and does it much more tenderly than Doctor Mikhail Petrovich. At the same time, the elephant shakes its head, and its small eyes are completely narrowed, as if laughing.

Surely he understands everything? - the girl asks the German.

Oh, absolutely everything, young lady.

But he's the only one who doesn't speak?

Yes, but he doesn't speak. You know, I also have one daughter, just as small as you. Her name is Liza. Tommy is a great, great friend of hers.

Have you, Tommy, already had tea? - asks the girl.

The elephant again stretches out its trunk and blows warm, strong breath right into the girl’s face, causing the light hair on the girl’s head to fly in all directions.

Nadya laughs and claps her hands. The German laughs loudly.

He himself is as big, fat and good-natured as an elephant, and Nadya thinks that they both look alike. Maybe they are related?

No, he didn't drink tea, young lady. But he happily drinks sugar water. He also loves buns very much.

They bring a tray of bread rolls. A girl treats an elephant. He deftly grabs the bun with his finger and, bending his trunk into a ring, hides it somewhere down under his head, where his funny, triangular, furry lower lip moves. You can hear the roll rustling against dry skin. Tommy does the same with another bun, and with a third, and with a fourth, and with a fifth, and nods his head in gratitude, and his small eyes narrow even more with pleasure. And the girl laughs joyfully.

When all the buns are eaten, Nadya introduces the elephant to her dolls:

Look, Tommy, this elegant doll is Sonya. She is a very kind child, but she is a little capricious and does not want to eat soup. And this is Natasha, Sonya’s daughter. She is already starting to learn and knows almost all the letters. And this is Matryoshka. This is my very first doll. You see, she has no nose, and her head is glued on, and there is no more hair. But still, you can’t kick the old lady out of the house. Really, Tommy? She used to be Sonya’s mother, and now she serves as our cook. Well, let's play, Tommy: you will be the dad, and I will be the mom, and these will be our children.

Tommy agrees. He laughs and takes Matryoshka by the neck and drags it into his mouth. But this is just a joke. After lightly chewing the doll, he again places it on the girl’s lap, albeit a little wet and dented.

Then Nadya shows him a large book with pictures and explains:

This is a horse, this is a canary, this is a gun... Here is a cage with a bird, here is a bucket, a mirror, a stove, a shovel, a crow... And this, look, this is an elephant! It really doesn't look like it at all? Are elephants really that small, Tommy?

Tommy finds that there are never such small elephants in the world. In general, he doesn’t like this picture. He grabs the edge of the page with his finger and turns it over.

It's time for lunch, but the girl can't be torn away from the elephant. A German comes to the rescue:

Let me arrange everything. They will have lunch together.

He orders the elephant to sit down. The elephant obediently sits down, causing the floor in the entire apartment to shake, dishes rattling in the cupboard, and plaster falling from the ceiling of the lower residents. A girl sits opposite him. A table is placed between them. A tablecloth is tied around the elephant's neck, and the new friends begin to dine. The girl eats chicken soup and cutlet, and the elephant eats various vegetables and salad. The girl is given a tiny glass of sherry, and the elephant is given warm water with a glass of rum, and he happily pulls this drink out of the bowl with his trunk. Then they get sweets: the girl gets a cup of cocoa, and the elephant gets half a cake, this time a nut one. At this time, the German is sitting with his dad in the living room and drinking beer with the same pleasure as an elephant, only in larger quantities.

After dinner, some of my father’s acquaintances come; Even in the hall they are warned about the elephant so that they do not get scared. At first they don’t believe it, and then, seeing Tommy, they crowd towards the door.

Don't be afraid, he is kind! - the girl calms them down.

But the acquaintances hastily go into the living room and, without sitting for even five minutes, leave.

Evening is coming. Late. It's time for the girl to go to bed. However, it is impossible to pull her away from the elephant. She falls asleep next to him, and she, already sleepy, is taken to the nursery. She doesn't even hear how they undress her.

That night Nadya dreams that she married Tommy and they have many children, little cheerful elephants. The elephant, which was taken to the menagerie at night, also sees a sweet, affectionate girl in a dream. In addition, he dreams of large cakes, walnut and pistachio, the size of gates...

In the morning the girl wakes up cheerful, fresh and, as in the old days, when she was still healthy, shouts to the whole house, loudly and impatiently:

Mo-loch-ka!

Hearing this cry, mom hurries joyfully. But the girl immediately remembers yesterday and asks:

And the elephant?

They explain to her that the elephant went home on business, that he has children who cannot be left alone, that he asked to bow to Nadya and that he is waiting for her to visit him when she is healthy. The girl smiles slyly and says: “Tell Tommy that I’m already completely healthy!”
1907

Kuprin A.I. - famous Russian writer. The heroes of his works are ordinary people who, despite social order and injustice, do not lose faith in goodness. For those who want to introduce their child to the writer’s work, below is a list of Kuprin’s works for children with a brief description.

Anathema

The story “Anathema” reveals the theme of the opposition of the church against Leo Tolstoy. At the end of his life he often wrote on the topic of religion. The church ministers did not like what Tolstoy expounded, and they decided to anathematize the writer. The case was entrusted to Protodeacon Olympius. But the protodeacon was a fan of Lev Nikolaevich’s work. The day before, he read the author’s story, and was so delighted with it that he even cried. As a result, instead of anathema, Olympius wished Tolstoy “Many years!”

White poodle

In the story "White Poodle" the author describes the story of a traveling troupe. The old organ grinder, along with the boy Seryozha and the poodle Artaud, earned money by performing numbers in front of the public. After a whole day of unsuccessful walking around local dachas, luck finally smiled on them: in the last house there were spectators who wanted to see the performance. It was the spoiled and capricious boy Trilly. Seeing the dog, he wished it for himself. However, his mother received a categorical refusal, because friends are not sold. Then she stole the dog with the help of a janitor. That same night Seryozha returned his friend.

Swamp

Kuprin’s work “Swamp” tells how land surveyor Zhmakin and his student assistant returned after surveying. Since the way home is long, they had to go to spend the night with the forester, Stepan. During the road, student Nikolai Nikolaevich entertained Zhmakin with a conversation, which only irritated the old man. When they had to walk through the swamp, both were afraid of the quagmire. If it weren’t for Stepan, it’s unknown whether they would have gotten out. Stopping at his place for the night, the student saw the meager life of a forester.

The story “In the Circus” tells about the cruel fate of the circus strongman - Arbuzov. He will have a fight in the arena with an American. Reber is perhaps inferior to him in strength and agility. But today Arbuzov is not able to show all his dexterity and skill. He is seriously ill and cannot fight on equal terms. Unfortunately, this is noticed only by the doctor, who considered the wrestler’s appearance on stage dangerous to the athlete’s health. The rest just want spectacle. As a result, Arbuzov is defeated.

Inquiry

“Inquiry” is one of the author’s first stories. It tells about the investigation of a theft for which a Tatar soldier is accused. The investigation is conducted by Second Lieutenant Kozlovsky. There was no serious evidence against the thief. Therefore, Kozlovsky decides to get a confession from the suspect with a cordial attitude. The method was successful, and the Tatar confessed to the theft. However, the second lieutenant began to doubt the fairness of his action in relation to the accused. On this basis, Kozlovsky had a quarrel with another officer.

Emerald

The work “Emerald” talks about human cruelty. The main character is a four-year-old stallion participating in horse racing, whose feelings and emotions are described in the story. The reader knows what he is thinking about, what experiences he is experiencing. In the stable where he is kept, there is no harmony between his brothers. Emerald's already difficult life worsens when he wins a race. People accuse horse owners of cheating. And after long examinations and investigations, Emerald is simply poisoned to death.

Lilac bush

In the story “The Lilac Bush” the author describes the relationship between a married couple. Husband - Nikolai Evgrafovich Almazov, studies at the Academy of the General Staff. While drawing up a map of the area, he made a mark, which he covered up, depicting bushes in that place. Since in reality there was no vegetation there, the professor did not believe Almazov and rejected the work. His wife Vera not only reassured her husband, but also corrected the situation. She did not spare her jewelry, paying with it for the purchase and planting of a lilac bush in that same ill-fated place.

Lenochka

The work “Lenochka” is a story about a meeting of old acquaintances. Colonel Voznitsyn, heading to Crimea on a ship, met a woman whom he knew in his youth. Then her name was Lenochka, and Voznitsyn had tender feelings for her. They were swirled in a whirlpool of memories of youth, reckless actions and a kiss at the gate. Having met many years later, they hardly recognized each other. Seeing Elena’s daughter, who was very similar to her young self, Voznitsyn felt sad.

Moonlit night

“On a Moonlit Night” is a work that tells about one event. On a warm June night, two acquaintances were returning from visiting as usual. One of them is the narrator of the story, the other is a certain Gamow. Returning home after attending an evening at Elena Alexandrovna’s dacha, the heroes walked along the road. The usually silent Gamow was surprisingly talkative on this warm June night. He told about the murder of the girl. His interlocutor realized that Gamow himself was the culprit of the incident.

Moloch

The hero of the work “Moloch” is steel mill engineer Andrei Ilyich Bobrov. He was disgusted with his job. Because of this, he began taking morphine, as a result of which he suffered from insomnia. The only bright moment in his life was Nina, one of the daughters of the warehouse manager at the factory. However, all his attempts to get closer to the girl ended in nothing. And after the owner of the plant, Kvashin, arrived in the city, Nina was matched with someone else. Svezhevsky became the girl’s fiancé and the new manager.

Olesya

The hero of the work “Olesya” is a young man who talks about his stay in the village of Perebrod. There is not much entertainment in such a remote area. In order not to get bored at all, the hero goes hunting with his servant Yarmola. One day they got lost and found a hut. An old witch lived in it, about whom Yarmola had previously spoken. A romance breaks out between the hero and the old woman's daughter Olesya. However, the hostility of local residents separates the heroes.

Duel

The story “The Duel” is about second lieutenant Romashov and his affair with Raisa Alexandrovna Peterson. He soon decided to end his relationship with the married woman. The offended lady promised to take revenge on the second lieutenant. It is unknown from whom, but the deceived husband learned about his wife’s affair with Romashov. Over time, a scandal broke out between the second lieutenant and Nikolaev, whom he visited, which resulted in a duel. As a result of the fight, Romashov dies.

Elephant

The work “Elephant” tells the story of a girl, Nadya. One day she fell ill, and a doctor, Mikhail Petrovich, was called to see her. After examining the girl, the doctor said that Nadya had “indifference to life.” To heal the child, the doctor advised to cheer her up. Therefore, when Nadya asked to bring an elephant, her father did everything possible to fulfill her wish. After the girl and the elephant had tea together, she went to bed, and the next morning she got up completely healthy.

Wonderful doctor

The story “The Wonderful Doctor” is about the Mertsalov family, who began to be haunted by troubles. First, my father got sick and lost his job. All the family's savings were spent on treatment. Because of this, they had to move to a damp basement. After which the children began to get sick. One girl died. My father's attempts to find funds led nowhere until he met Dr. Pirogov. Thanks to him, the lives of the remaining children were saved.

Pit

The story “The Pit” is about the life of women of easy virtue. All of them are kept in an institution run by Anna Markovna. One of the visitors, Lichonin, decides to take one of the girls under his guardianship. In this way he wanted to save the unfortunate Lyuba. However, this decision led to many problems. As a result, Lyubka returned to the establishment. When Anna Markovna was replaced by Emma Eduardovna, a series of troubles began. Finally, the establishment was looted by soldiers.

On wood grouse

In the work “On the Wood Grouse” the narration is told in the first person. Panych tells how he went on a wood grouse hunt. He took as his companion a government forester, Trofim Shcherbaty, who knows the forest well. The hunters spent the first day on the road, and in the evening they stopped. The next morning, before dawn, Trofimych led the master through the forest in search of wood grouse. Only with the help of the forester and his knowledge of the habits of birds did the main character manage to shoot a capercaillie.

Overnight

The main character of the work “Overnight” is Lieutenant Avilov. He and the regiment went on big maneuvers. On the way, he felt bored and indulged in daydreams. At the halt, he was given overnight accommodation in the clerk's house. While falling asleep, Avilov witnessed a conversation between the owner and his wife. It was clear that even in her youth the girl was dishonored by a young man. Because of this, the owner beats his wife every evening. When Avilov realizes that it was he who ruined a woman’s life, he becomes ashamed.

Autumn flowers

The story “Autumn Flowers” ​​is a letter from a woman to her former lover. They were once happy together. They were connected by tender feelings. Having met again many years later, the lovers realized that their love had died. After the man suggested visiting his ex-lover, she decided to leave. So as not to be influenced by sensuality and not to discredit past memories. So she wrote a letter and got on the train.

Pirate

The work “Pirate” is named after a dog who was a friend to a poor old man. Together they gave performances in taverns, which is how they earned their living. Sometimes the “artists” left with nothing and remained hungry. One day a merchant, having seen the performance, wanted to buy the Pirate. Starkey resisted for a long time, but could not resist and sold his friend for 13 rubles. After that, he was sad for a long time, tried to steal the dog and eventually hanged himself out of grief.

River of life

The story “River of Life” describes the way of life in furnished rooms. The author tells about the owner of the establishment, Anna Fridrikhovna, her fiance and children. One day, in this “kingdom of vulgarity,” an emergency occurs. An unfamiliar student rents a room and locks himself there to write a letter. Being a participant in the revolutionary movement, he is interrogated. The student chickened out and betrayed his comrades. Because of this, he could no longer live and committed suicide.

The work “Starlings” tells the story of migratory birds that are the first to return to their native lands after winter. It tells about the difficulties encountered on the way of wanderers. For the birds' return to Russia, people prepare birdhouses for them, which are quickly occupied by sparrows. Therefore, upon arrival, starlings have to evict uninvited guests. After which new residents move in. After living for a certain period of time, the birds fly south again.

Nightingale

The narration in the work “The Nightingale” is told in the first person. After finding an old photo, memories came flooding back to the hero. Then he lived in Salzo Maggiorre, a resort located in Northern Italy. One evening he dined with a table d'hote company. Among them were four Italian singers. When a nightingale sang not far from the company, they admired its sound. At the end, the company got so excited that everyone started singing a song.

From the street

The work “From the Street” is a confession of a criminal about how he turned into what he is now. His parents drank heavily and beat the boy. The apprentice Yushka was involved in raising the former criminal. Under his influence, the hero learned to drink, smoke, gamble and steal. He failed to graduate from high school, and he went to serve as a soldier. There he reveled and walked. After the hero seduced the wife of the lieutenant colonel, Marya Nikolaevna, he was kicked out of the regiment. At the end, the hero tells how he and his friend killed a man and surrendered to the police.

Garnet bracelet

The work “Garnet Bracelet” describes the secret love of a certain Zheltkov for a married woman. One day he gives Vera Nikolaevna a garnet bracelet for her birthday. Her husband and brother visit the unhappy lover. After an unexpected visit, Zhelkov commits suicide, since his life consisted only of the woman he loved. Vera Nikolaevna understands that such a feeling is very rare.

Kuprin's works are imbued with deep respect and sympathy
to the surrounding world. In his creations, the author provides detailed, realistic descriptions of nature. The theme of love for the motherland continues
in the descriptions of its places. Describing the landscapes of Russia, Kuprin admires them, shows the reader their amazing features and memorable images, tries to tell as much and better as possible about the country’s magnificent and beautiful country. While in exile outside Russia,
the author does not stop writing about her, already remembering the works he wrote
and individual paintings of places, he creates new works. He also gives descriptions of pictures of the places he visited outside his homeland.
These descriptions, in their realism, respect and sympathy, are nothing
do not differ from descriptions of the nature of Russia. For example, in his essays “Côte d’Azur” and in the story “The Wheel of Time” Kuprin
describes Marseille as a city " ... noisy, colorful and colorful
to decorative...» .

Subject nature is very common in Kuprin’s works. Quite often it is found in works in the background, where colorful descriptions emphasize the image of the created theme and complement it. One of these works was the story “Olesya”, where the mood and state of mind of the main characters is conveyed through descriptions of nature. The feeling ripening in the hero’s soul is shown against the backdrop of the coming spring; the romantic atmosphere of a declaration of love is created by the image of a moonlit night. The last date ends with the pre-storm tension of nature, and the finale is a terrible hail that killed the residents of the city who offended the heroine.

However, the theme of nature in Kuprin’s work was not always in second place. Kuprin loved and admired nature. He wrote not only about the lives of ordinary people, he was significantly interested in the interests and lives of representatives of the surrounding world. He was convinced that animals also deserve people's attention, as well as respect and understanding. Among Kuprin's works there are many stories telling about the lives of animals. In them, Kuprin looks at the characters as individuals significant to society, and in their abilities equates them to people. When talking about animals, Kuprin does not try to show their insignificance, limited by their capabilities, but most likely, against this contrasting background of limitations, he tries to show their advantages, their emotions
and experiences. By creating vivid images of pets or stray animals, the author emphasizes the importance of these animals through descriptions
their distinctive character traits and appearance, behavior and communication
with people, as well as through their actions, which allow us to call them heroes. Kuprin talks about animals in their natural environment: in the owner’s house, in the circus, on the street and other places where they stay.

The realism of the images of heroes and landscapes, the emotionality of the characters, as well as the simplicity of the language and style - all this attracts the attention of child readers whose interests include understanding the world around them.

In his works about animals, Kuprin combined his love
towards children and deep respect for the surrounding world, the natural world. Addressing the life difficulties of the heroes of the works and showing how they overcome them, how they help their brothers or people, Kuprin gives the young reader such life lessons as the ability to be devoted, to provide help, to love the world around him - he turns to the inner world of the child, changing it, developing in it the necessary traits of spirituality, morality, ethics, compassion, love and respect for the entire world around us.

Through stories about animals, Kuprin gives hope to young readers
the ability to overcome life's difficulties in the future. For example, in the story “The Elephant” (1907), a seriously ill girl is saved by a day spent with a real live elephant.

The story “Yu-yu” (1927), which tells about the life of a sensitive and affectionate cat, stands out for its richness of descriptions of nature and gratitude for devotion
and the warmth that communication with an animal brings into a person’s life.

No less interesting in its structure and plot is Kuprin’s story “Peregrine Falcon” (1921), which is narrated from the point of view of a dog. The image of a powerful dog, aware of its strength, good-natured and tolerant, as well as a philosophizing dog, is as close as possible to the human image. Sapsan's heroism is expressed in his action: he shields his owner's daughter with his body, saving her from a rabid dog.

In the story “Barbos and Zhulka” (1897), Kuprin tells about the friendship of two dogs with different characters, showing their spiritual closeness, which, according to Kuprin, is necessary for the full moral development of a child.

Nature is contrasting and colorful in the descriptions given in the stories “The White Poodle” (1904) and “In the Bowels of the Earth” (1899). In them, the author conveys children’s affection for animals, mutual assistance, the purity of a child’s soul and the ability of little people to achieve feats.

Kuprin's story "The White Poodle" fully and completely expresses the trend in children's literature of the early 20th century. The characters in the story are filled with worldly wisdom, good nature, humor (Grandfather Lodyshkin), courage and the boy’s sense of affection for his four-legged friend, the poodle Artaud. The story contrasts two worlds: the lives of wandering musicians and rich people, their thinking and moral values.

The key point of the story is the conflict that arose over a small poodle between a rich lady with her son and traveling artists. This conflict emphasizes the difference in psychology, in ethical
and moral ideas of representatives of different parties. For the rich, the poodle is a thing that can be bought and sold, and for wandering artists, the dog is a friend and breadwinner, for whom the boy is ready to do great deeds.

The dramatic and tense scene of the rescue of the poodle is complemented by descriptions of nature that highlight the boy's experiences.
Nature, pleasant and gentle during the day, becomes alarming for him
and reproaching: “ Everything was scary, mysterious, fabulously beautiful in the garden, as if filled with fragrant dreams.<…>Slender, dark, fragrant cypress trees slowly nodded their sharp tops with a thoughtful
and a reproachful expression" Through the boy’s feat, Kuprin conveys the purity of the child’s moral sense, opposed to the evil of life.

At the end of the story, when the poodle ends up with the artists, the author, through the old man’s speech, conveys to the readers a lesson in morality, folk morality, the essence of which is that there are values ​​that are not for sale.

No less interesting for the young reader are the actions and habits of the four-legged friend of the traveling artists, described by Kuprin with great skill.
In these descriptions, Kuprin resembles such an “expert” of animals as Jack London.

Tension and dynamic development of the plot, descriptiveness
and heroism, contrast of humor, expressiveness and precision of language, a happy ending that marked the victory of the human, moral principle - all these qualities make the story “The White Poodle” an outstanding work of children's literature.

Kuprin’s story “In the Bowels of the Earth” (1899) combines the author’s attitude to the theme of difficult childhood and descriptions of nature. The hero of the story, the boy Vaska, lives with the miners in the barracks. The naive village boy is torn by conflicting feelings, why should he be surprised - the rude morals of the barracks or the size and complexity of the mining business. In contrast to this background of the severity of a child’s life among miners and the boy’s contradictions, the beautiful steppe nature is depicted. As in “The White Poodle,” the hero of the story turns out to be capable of decisive action and saves a comrade from slaughter. The feat binds comrades with strong bonds. On this note, filled with hope for friendship and understanding, Kuprin ends his story.

In his stories about animals Kuprin “ with fascinating examples
and intricate stories, where each animal character is unique in its portrait and psychological characteristics", wishes " convince the reader how unfair people are sometimes in their judgments when they,
for example, they say “stupid as a goose” or when they say that “a cat becomes attached not to a person, but to a home”» .

In terms of their design, simplicity of language, choice of characters and appeal to them, as well as the impact they have on the reader, Kuprin’s stories “Elephant”, “Yu-Yu”, “Peregrine Falcon”, “Barbos and Zhulka”, “White Poodle”
and “In the Bowels of the Earth” are suitable for young readers in the middle age category. However, their importance for children's literature, as well as the interests of readers, increases significantly when they are addressed to children of primary school age.

For young readers of the middle age category, the stories “Emerald”, “Ralph” and a number of other works united by the theme of the animal and plant world are of greatest interest.

Kuprin's story "Emerald", which tells about the life of a racing horse, took one of the first places among the works of Russian classics about animals.

The artistic texture of the story is determined through the feelings of the hero of the work. In his story, Kuprin did not try to reveal the “inner world” of the horse, but showed the reality represented by the hero of the story through his sensations and images. However, the artist endows Emerald with some “movements of the soul” characteristic of people: fear of an opponent
and maintaining self-esteem. The author – barely noticeably – adds characteristics “from himself” to the flow of the hero’s sensations.

Describing grooms and riders, the author seems to “miss”
their characteristics through the sensations of the stallion. By the same principle
The story shows nature. The complex phenomena of reality and its diversity “passed” through the primary sensations of the hero in no case create in the reader the impression of implausibility or unnaturalness. On the contrary, a picture of nature, despite the limited visual possibilities, is full of charm, clarity and purity, and has a calming effect.

The main artistic quality of the story “Emerald” is the clarity, purity and “visibility” of descriptions. The precision of detail shows
How masterfully the writer uses words. An example of such a detail is pauses
in the old man’s speech, indicated in the text by ellipses: “ Look, you greedy beast... But, oh, you’ll have time... Oh, for you... Poke me in the face some more.
Now I'm going to poke you really hard" The old man’s movements are not visible, but his pauses are full of movement.

Kuprin's story "Emerald" ends with the tragic death of a good
and a beautiful creature. However, such a tragic end is brightened up by the absence of grave hopelessness: the reader is saddened by the death of the hero,
but this feeling is smoothed out by the thoughts that the stallion has lived a full, interesting life.

Back in 1930, Kuprin was concerned that “ There are almost no dogs or horses left in literature" The writer’s desire to fill the gap was reflected in his work. In recent years, he conceived a whole book about animals - “Friends of Man”. But the writer did not have time to realize his plan. Only one story was created from the planned cycle - “Ralph”.

In his story, Kuprin reveals the uniqueness of a dog named Ralph. The uniqueness of Ralph is revealed through the spaces associated with the hero of the work, through the relationship between Ralph and Balakhnin (the dog’s owner), through the form of Balakhnin’s address to Ralph (the polite form of “you”).

The author of the story emphasizes the unusualness of the dog, telling about
that Ralph perceives not only black and white, but also a number of other primary colors (blue, green, yellow, red), which makes him exceptional among all dogs. We also learn from the author’s speech,
that Ralph has a job. Having a job equates to a dog
to working people and sets him apart from his blood brothers, dogs.

However, standing out among his relatives, Ralph does not leave their world, he only stands out as a real, almost human person. Proof that Ralph belongs to the world of dogs is his observance of " immutable laws"of their relatives.

Thus, Kuprin’s story “Ralph” accurately and completely reflects the author’s idea about the book “Friends of Man.” The story shows
not the emotions of the heroes or their vision of the world, but the dignity and uniqueness of the dog, a representative of the animal world. This story, created by the author in order to show his colleagues the importance of the topic of animals for literature, fully met expectations.

In terms of their design, appeal to the reader, artistic texture, appeal to the psychological world of the characters and description of nature, Kuprin’s stories “Emerald” and “Ralph” are suitable for both children’s readers and adult readers.

Among Kuprin’s stories about nature, “Starlings” stands out.
and “In the Menagerie.”

The story “Starlings” tells about the migration of starlings. In the story, Kuprin describes nature and the habitats of birds. The realism of the images is based on the author's memories. He admires the courage and strength of these little birds, talks about the difficulties of their long journey, writes with delight about returning home, colorfully describes their imitations of other birds, not forgetting to emphasize the starlings’ own song. Descriptions of starlings are filled with the author's delight, movements and restlessness of the birds. Talking about starlings, A. Kuprin compares them with sparrows. The author writes about sparrows: “ windy, empty, frivolous bird", and admires starlings. The story is filled with vivid descriptions; the author writes with special humor about sparrows, about stupid, naive children, cunning and fussy.
In the story, the writer addresses the readers, advises them to help the starlings, appreciate them and protect them. At the end of the story, “sending off” the starlings on a long journey, Kuprin says goodbye to them: “ Goodbye, dear starlings! Come in the spring. The nests are waiting for you...» .

In the story “In the Menagerie,” Kuprin showed magnificent natural landscapes against the contrasting background of those horrors, fears, despair and humility
and the freedom of captive animals. In the story, the author talks about the life of animals imprisoned by people in a cage, their thoughts and dreams, as well as human greed.

Kuprin wrote many stories about animals. He knew the character well
and habits of birds. The realism of his stories about animals is due to his affection for animals: he trained them, treated them and saved them when they were in mortal danger. The famous tamer Anatoly Durov wrote about Kuprin in his posters dedicated to animals:

Kuprin himself is a writer
We had a friend with us.

Kuprin's stories about the animal and plant world have become firmly established
into the children's literature program. This was facilitated by the realistic descriptions and emotionality of the characters, simple and expressive language, the presentation of animals as equal to humans, as well as the triumph of goodness. Kuprin's stories about the animal and plant world develop the necessary psychological, ethical and moral traits in a child, teach lessons about life, morality, understanding of values, and give hope for overcoming life's difficulties, creating a contrast to a difficult childhood
and hopelessness, happy endings.

3. CONCEPT FOR PUBLISHING A COLLECTION OF STORIES
ABOUT THE NATURE A.I. KUPRINA

Related information.

Stories by A. Kuprin

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A large and strong dog named Sapsan reflects on life and what surrounds him in this life. The peregrine falcon got its name from its ancient ancestors, one of whom defeated the bear in a fight, clinging to its throat. The Peregrine Falcon thinks about the Master, condemns his bad habits, and rejoices at how he is praised when he and the Master walk. Sapsan lives in a house with the Owner, his daughter Little and a cat. They are friends with the cat, Little Peregrine protects her, doesn’t hurt anyone and allows her things that he wouldn’t allow anyone else. Sapsan also loves bones and often gnaws them or buries them to gnaw on later, but sometimes he forgets the place. Although Sapsan is the strongest dog in the world, he does not gnaw at defenseless and weak dogs. Often Sapsan looks into the sky and knows that there is someone there who is stronger and smarter than the Master and someday this someone will take Sapsan to eternity. Sapsan really wants the Master to be nearby at this moment, even if he is not there, Sapsan’s last thought will be about him.

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Stories by A. Kuprin

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Kuprin's story "Elephant" is an interesting story about a little girl who fell ill and not a single doctor could cure her. They only said that she had apathy and indifference to life, and she herself lay in bed for a whole month with a poor appetite, she was very bored. The mother and father of the sick girl were at their wit's end, trying to cure the child, but it was impossible to interest her in anything. The doctor advised her to fulfill her every whim, but she didn’t want anything. Suddenly the girl wanted an elephant. Dad immediately ran to the store and bought a beautiful wind-up elephant. But Nadya was not impressed by this toy elephant; she wanted a real live elephant, not necessarily a big one. And dad, after thinking for a while, went to the circus, where he agreed with the owner of the animals to bring the elephant home to them for the whole day at night, because during the day crowds of people would flock to the elephant. In order for the elephant to be able to enter their apartment on the 2nd floor, the doors were specially widened. And then at night the elephant was brought. The girl Nadya woke up in the morning and was very happy about him. They spent the whole day together, even had lunch at the same table. Nadya fed the elephant buns and showed him her dolls. So she fell asleep next to him. And at night she dreamed of an elephant. Waking up in the morning, Nadya did not find the elephant - he was taken away, but she gained an interest in life and recovered.

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Stories by A. Kuprin

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- Dad, tell me some story... But listen to what I’m telling you, daddy...

At the same time, seven-year-old Kotik (his name was Konstantin), sitting on Kholshchevnikov’s lap, tried with both hands to turn his father’s head towards him. The boy was surprised and even a little worried why dad had been looking at the fire of the lamp for five whole minutes with such strange eyes, motionless, as if smiling and wet.

“Yes, dad,” said Kitty tearfully. “Why aren’t you talking to me?”

Ivan Timofeevich heard the impatient words of his son, but could not shake off that terrible fascination that takes over a person who stares at a shiny object. In addition to the bright light of the lamp, this charm was mixed with the charm of a quiet, warm summer evening, and the coziness of a small but nice country terrace, woven with wild grapes, the motionless greenery of which, under artificial light, acquired a fantastic, pale and harsh hue.

A lamp under a green matte lampshade cast a bright, even circle on the tablecloth... Ivan Timofeevich saw in this circle two closely bowed heads: one - a woman’s, blond, with delicate and delicate features, the other - the proud and beautiful head of a young man, with black wavy hair fell carelessly on the shoulders, on the dark bold forehead and on the large black eyes, such hot, expressive, truthful eyes. On his cheeks and on his neck, Kholshchevnikov felt the touch of Kotik’s gentle hands and his warm breath, he even heard the smell of his hair, slightly faded over the summer in the sun and reminiscent of the smell of the feathers of a small bird. All this merged together into such a harmonious, such a joyful and bright impression that Kholshchevnikov’s eyes involuntarily began to sting with grateful tears.

The two heads, bowed near the lamp and almost touching their hair, belonged to Kholshchevnikov’s wife and Grigory Bakhanin, his best friend and student. Ivan Timofeevich treated this ardent and chaotic young man with sincere, ardent and caring love, in whose paintings the experienced eye of the teacher had long since discerned the gift of a broad and daring brush of enormous talent. There was no envy in Kholshchevnikov’s soul, so characteristic of the stormy and vulgar environment of artists. On the contrary, he was proud that the future celebrity - Bakhanin - took his first lessons and that his wife, Lydia, was the first to recognize and appreciate his student.

Bakhanin, silently and without stopping, drew with a pencil on a sheet of Bristol paper lying in front of him, and from under his hand came caricatures, vignettes, animals in human costumes, gracefully intertwined initials, parodies of paintings exhibited at the Academy of Arts, thin female profiles... These careless sketches, in which every stroke impressed with courage and talent, quickly replaced one after another, causing either intense attention or a cheerful smile on the face of Lydia Lvovna, who was carefully following the artist’s pencil.

- Well, that's what you are, dad. You promise, but now you’re silent,” Kitty drawled touchily. At the same time, he pouted his lips, lowered his head low and, fiddling with his fingers, shook his legs.

Kholshchevnikov turned to him and, to make amends, hugged him.

- Well, okay, okay, Kitty. I'll tell you a fairy tale now. Don’t be angry... Just... What should I tell you?..

He thought about it.

– About a bear whose paw was cut off? - said Kotik, sighing with relief. - Only I already know that.

Suddenly, an inspired thought flashed in Kholshchevnikov’s head. Couldn't his life serve as a theme for a good, touching fairy tale? How long has it been? - just twelve years ago - when he, a poor, unknown artist, bullied by his superiors, insulted by self-adoration, ignorance and advertising of mediocrity, more than once weakened, lost his head in a cruel struggle with life and cursed the hour when he took up his brush. At this difficult time, Lydia met on his way. She was much younger than him, she was dazzlingly beautiful, smart, surrounded by admirers. He, poor, homely, sickly, frightened of life, did not dare to dream of the love of this supreme, charming being. But she was the first to believe in him, the first to extend her hand to him. When, tired of failures and poverty, having lost strength and hope, he lost heart, she encouraged him with affection, tender care, and a cheerful joke. And her love triumphed... Now the name Kholshchevnikov is known to every literate person, his paintings adorn the galleries of crowned heads - he is the only academician who is adored by the young artists who do not believe in anything... There is nothing to say about material success... Both he and Lydia have plenty rewarded for long humiliating years of brutal austerity, almost beggary.

At that disastrous time, Ivan Timofeevich could not have imagined all this quiet charm, this contented life, warmed by the constant affection of his beautiful wife and the tender love of his dear Kotik, this joyful consciousness of family, to which his strong friendship with Bakhanin gave even greater depth and meaning. The theme of the tale quickly took shape in his head.

“Well, okay, listen, Kitty,” he began, stroking his son’s soft, thin hair. “Just don’t interrupt... Well, that’s it, sir.” In a certain kingdom, in a certain state, there lived a king and a queen.

“And they didn’t have children?” asked Kotik in a thin voice.

- No, Kotik, they had children... Don’t interrupt, please... On the contrary, they had an extremely large number of children. There were so many children that when the king divided his wealth among all his sons, the youngest son got nothing. As if there was nothing to eat, no clothes, no horses, no houses, no servants... Nothing... Yes... Well, when the king felt that his end was near, he called his sons and said to them: “Dear children, maybe I I will die soon and therefore I want to choose an heir from among you... but certainly the most worthy... You know that on the border of my kingdom there is a large, large dense forest... And in the very middle of the forest there is a marble palace. It's just very difficult to get there. Many tried to do this, but never returned. They were devoured by wild animals, tickled to death by mermaids, bitten by poisonous snakes... But you go boldly forward... Let neither fear, nor the prudent advice of loved ones, nor the temptation of safety stop you... At the gates of the marble palace you will see three lions chained: one the name is Envy, another is Poverty, the third is Doubt. The lions will rush at you with a deafening roar. But you go straight and straight. In the palace, in the silver room, on a golden tripod strewn with stars, an eternal sacred fire burns. So, remember my words: whoever of you lights a lamp from this fire and returns home with it, he will be the heir of my kingdom.”

Ivan Timofeevich, without letting Kitty out of his arms, lit a cigarette. Bakhanin and Lydia, apparently, listened to his tale with interest; Bakhanin even put his palm with an umbrella to his eyes, trying to see Kholshchevnikov from the light, sitting in a dark corner in a rocking chair. “Well, okay,” Kholshchevnikov continued, “the royal sons set off on their journey.” The younger prince also went. The courtiers tried to dissuade him, dissuaded him: you are young, and weak, and sickly, where should you follow your elders? But he answered them: “No, and I want to be in the marble palace and light my lamp by the sacred fire.”

And I went. Well, okay. Whether it was long or short, the brothers only reached the forest. This is what the elders say:

“It’s scary, difficult, and far to drive through the forest, let’s go around, maybe we’ll find another road.” And the younger one says: “You, brothers, do as you wish, but I will go straight, because there is no other road through the forest.” The brothers answer him: “You know, Ivanushka is a fool, there’s no point in talking to you; wild animals will eat you in the forest or you yourself will die of hunger.” Yes. Well, the youngest son is coming, he goes one day, he goes another, he goes a third. And the forest is getting denser and denser. The thorny bushes whip their branches into his face, tear his clothes, wolves howl after him, ghouls chase after him, and still he goes. Mermaids with green hair are swinging in the trees and beckoning to him: “Come to us. Where are you driving? And there is no marble palace. All these are just fairy tales, inventions of fools and dreamers. Come to us. You will live cheerfully and carefree, we will delight your ears with music and singing. Come to us". But he doesn't listen and goes further and further. Finally his horse fell... And the forest grew thicker and thicker; at every step there are impassable swamps, steep ravines, thickets of forest... The prince did not have enough strength... He fell onto the damp ground and already thought that the end was coming for him. “It’s true,” he thinks, there really isn’t any marble palace. It would be better if I didn’t come here at all or stayed with the mermaids along the way. Otherwise, now I will die for nothing, and there is no one to even bury me...” He was just thinking this, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a fairy in snow-white robes appears in front of him and says to him: “Why do you, prince, despair and complain? Take my hand and go." And as soon as he touched her hand, he immediately felt relief, got up and walked along with the beautiful fairy. And when along the way he weakened and was ready to fall from fatigue, the fairy squeezed his hand more and more tightly. And he gathered his courage and walked, overcoming fatigue. Kholshchevnikov stopped.

- The prince came to the palace. He was not afraid of the terrible lions: Doubt, Poverty and Envy, sitting on chains at the gate, because he had a beautiful fairy with him. He lit a sacred fire from a golden altar studded with diamond stars, and went home with it to his kingdom. And when he returned from the palace, the lions lay at the gate like tame dogs and licked the traces of his feet, the forest parted to the sides, forming a wide smooth road, and the beautiful fairy turned into a princess (she had previously been bewitched by an evil sorceress) and from then on she never left the prince again. As for the rest of the brothers, some were afraid of the difficult road and stopped in the middle, while others returned home, and the whole state laughed at them. And the younger prince and his beautiful princess began to live, live, and make good things. That's right, my Kitty.

- That's it, my boy. Better go to bed now, my little prince. Say goodbye to mommy and Grisha.

“It’s not a good fairy tale,” the boy said, but he obediently stood up, kissed Lydia Lvovna, who carefully and carefully crossed him, then kissed Bakhanin and, taking his father’s hand, went to the nursery.

With the help of the nanny, he undressed the cat and put him to bed. It was dark in the nursery. The pink lamp flickered faintly near the image, reflecting with trembling naive sparks on the golden robe of the dark-faced saint. The cat lay down on his right side, placing his folded palms under his cheek, and asked:

-Did you, dad, tell me this whole story? To end?

- Everything, Kitty. And what?

- Yes, yes. Where is this son now?

- Son? The son has not yet become a king, but he married a fairy, and they have a little son, like my Kotik... Only Kotik does not like to take dictation, but the prince’s son writes with pleasure.

- Why, dad, did they call him Ivanushka the Fool?

“Because, my dear, he was very simple and poor.” Yes, he really would have been a fool if he had not met a beautiful fairy. If he got lost, his wild animals would...

Kitty's deep and even breathing indicated that he fell asleep without hearing the answer to his question. Kholshchevnikov, with a tender and touched heart, crossed his son and, quietly stepping in his kid shoes, walked out of the nursery onto the terrace. Neither Lydia nor Bakhanin heard his steps. She lay on his shoulder and, throwing her head back, with half-open, laughing, wet lips, avoided his kisses. Black curls and ashen curls mixed together... It was clear that Lydia’s resistance worried both of them: she turned pale, and Bakhanin’s dark face became covered with pink spots and took on a pleading expression. Finally, as if exhausted, with a passionate sigh, like a moan, she pressed her lips to his and impulsively wrapped her beautiful half-naked hand around his neck...

The fairy tale is over...