Krylov years of life fable. Childhood and youth I.A. Krylova

Artworks Ivan Krylov

A week later, Pierre gave his wife a power of attorney to manage all the Great Russian estates, which accounted for more than half of his fortune, and left alone for St. Petersburg.

Two months passed after receiving news in the Bald Mountains about the battle of Austerlitz and the death of Prince Andrei, and despite all the letters through the embassy and all the searches, his body was not found, and he was not among the prisoners. The worst thing for his relatives was that there was still the hope that he had been raised by the inhabitants on the battlefield, and perhaps he was recovering or dying somewhere alone, among strangers, and unable to give news of himself. In the newspapers, from which the old prince first learned about the defeat of Austerlitz, it was written, as always, very briefly and vaguely, that the Russians, after brilliant battles, had to retreat and made a retreat in perfect order. The old prince understood from this official news that ours had been defeated. A week after the newspaper that brought the news of the Battle of Austerlitz, a letter arrived from Kutuzov, who informed the prince about the fate that befell his son.
“Your son, in my eyes,” wrote Kutuzov, with a banner in his hands, ahead of the regiment, fell a hero worthy of his father and his fatherland. To the general regret of me and the whole army, it is still unknown whether he is alive or not. I flatter myself and you with the hope that your son is alive, because otherwise, among the officers found on the battlefield, about whom the list was submitted to me through parliamentarians, and he would have been named.
Having received this news late in the evening, when he was alone at. in his study, the old prince, as usual, the next day went for his morning walk; but he was silent with the clerk, the gardener, and the architect, and, although he looked angry, he said nothing to anyone.
When, at the usual time, Princess Mary came in to see him, he stood behind the machine and sharpened, but, as usual, did not look back at her.
- BUT! Princess Mary! he suddenly said unnaturally and dropped the chisel. (The wheel was still spinning from its swing. Princess Marya remembered for a long time this dying creak of the wheel, which merged for her with what followed.)
Princess Mary moved towards him, saw his face, and something suddenly sank into her. Her eyes couldn't see clearly. She saw from her father’s face, not sad, not killed, but angry and unnaturally working on herself, that now, now, a terrible misfortune, the worst in life, a misfortune that she had not yet experienced, an irreparable, incomprehensible misfortune, hung over her and crushed her. the death of the one you love.
– Mon pere! Andre? [Father! Andrei?] - Said the ungraceful, awkward princess with such an inexpressible charm of sadness and self-forgetfulness that her father could not stand her gaze, and turned away with a sob.
- Got the message. None were taken prisoner, none were killed. Kutuzov writes, - he shouted piercingly, as if wanting to drive the princess away with this cry, - killed!
The princess did not fall, she did not become faint. She was already pale, but when she heard these words, her face changed, and something shone in her radiant, beautiful eyes. As if joy, the highest joy, independent of the sorrows and joys of this world, spilled over the strong sorrow that was in it. She forgot all her fear of her father, went up to him, took his hand, pulled him towards her and hugged his dry, sinewy neck.
“Mon pere,” she said. Don't turn away from me, let's cry together.
- Scoundrels, scoundrels! the old man shouted, pulling his face away from her. - Destroy the army, destroy the people! For what? Go, go, tell Lisa. The princess sank helplessly into an armchair beside her father and wept. She saw her brother now at the moment he was saying goodbye to her and to Liza, with his gentle and at the same time arrogant air. She saw him at the moment when he tenderly and mockingly put the icon on himself. “Did he believe? Did he repent of his unbelief? Is he there now? Is it there, in the abode of eternal peace and bliss? she thought.
– Mon pere, [Father,] tell me how it was? she asked through tears.
- Go, go, killed in the battle in which they led to kill the Russians the best people and Russian glory. Go, Princess Mary. Go and tell Lisa. I will come.
When Princess Mary returned from her father, the little princess was sitting at work, and with that special expression of an inward and happily calm look, peculiar only to pregnant women, she looked at Princess Mary. It was evident that her eyes did not see Princess Marya, but looked deep into herself - into something happy and mysterious that was happening in her.
“Marie,” she said, moving away from the hoop and waddling back, “give me your hand here.” - She took the hand of the princess and put it on her stomach.
Her eyes smiled expectantly, the sponge with the mustache rose, and childishly happily remained raised.
Princess Mary knelt before her and hid her face in the folds of her daughter-in-law's dress.
- Here, here - do you hear? It's so strange to me. And you know, Marie, I will love him very much,” said Lisa, looking at her sister-in-law with sparkling, happy eyes. Princess Mary could not raise her head: she was crying.
- What's wrong with you, Masha?
“Nothing ... I felt so sad ... sad about Andrei,” she said, wiping her tears on her daughter-in-law's knees. Several times, during the morning, Princess Marya began to prepare her daughter-in-law, and each time she began to cry. These tears, for which the little princess did not understand the reason, alarmed her, no matter how observant she was. She didn't say anything, but looked around uneasily, looking for something. Before dinner, the old prince, whom she had always feared, entered her room, now with a particularly restless, angry face, and, without saying a word, went out. She looked at Princess Marya, then thought with that expression of eyes of inward-turning attention that pregnant women have, and suddenly burst into tears.
Did you get anything from Andrew? - she said.
- No, you know that the news could not come yet, but mon pere is worried, and I'm scared.
- Oh nothing?
“Nothing,” said Princess Marya, looking firmly at her daughter-in-law with radiant eyes. She decided not to tell her and persuaded her father to hide the terrible news from her daughter-in-law until her permission, which was supposed to be the other day. Princess Marya and the old prince, each in his own way, carried and hid their grief. The old prince did not want to hope: he decided that Prince Andrei had been killed, and despite the fact that he sent an official to Austria to look for his son's trace, he ordered a monument to him in Moscow, which he intended to erect in his garden, and told everyone that his son is killed. He tried not to change his former way of life, but his strength betrayed him: he walked less, ate less, slept less, and became weaker every day. Princess Mary hoped. She prayed for her brother as if she were alive, and waited every minute for news of his return.

- Ma bonne amie, [My good friend,] - said the little princess on the morning of March 19 after breakfast, and her sponge with a mustache rose from the old habit; but as in all not only smiles, but the sounds of speeches, even gaits in this house, from the day the terrible news was received, there was sadness, even now the smile of the little princess, who succumbed to the general mood, although she did not know its cause, was such that she even more reminiscent of the general sadness.
- Ma bonne amie, je crains que le fruschtique (comme dit Fock - cook) de ce matin ne m "aie pas fait du mal. [My friend, I'm afraid that the current frischtik (as the chef Fock calls it) would not make me feel bad. ]
What about you, my soul? You are pale. Oh, you are very pale, said Princess Marya in fright, running up to her daughter-in-law with her heavy, soft steps.
“Your Excellency, why not send for Marya Bogdanovna?” - said one of the maids who were here. (Marya Bogdanovna was a midwife from a district town, who had been living in Lysy Gory for another week.)
“And indeed,” Princess Marya picked up, “perhaps, for sure. I will go. Courage, mon ange! [Don't be afraid, my angel.] She kissed Lisa and wanted to leave the room.
- Oh, no, no! - And besides pallor, the face of the little princess expressed a childish fear of inevitable physical suffering.
- Non, c "est l" estomac ... dites que c "est l" estomac, dites, Marie, dites ..., [No, this is the stomach ... tell Masha that this is the stomach ...] - and the princess began to cry childishly, suffering, capriciously and even somewhat feignedly, breaking their little arms. The princess ran out of the room after Marya Bogdanovna.
— Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! [My God! My God!] Oh! she heard behind her.
Rubbing her full, small, white hands, the midwife was already walking towards her, with a considerably calm face.
- Maria Bogdanovna! It seems to have begun, ”said Princess Marya, looking at her grandmother with frightened open eyes.
“Well, thank God, princess,” said Marya Bogdanovna without adding a step. You girls don't need to know about this.
“But why hasn’t the doctor arrived from Moscow yet?” - said the princess. (At the request of Lisa and Prince Andrei, they were sent to Moscow for an obstetrician by the deadline, and they were waiting for him every minute.)
“It’s okay, princess, don’t worry,” said Marya Bogdanovna, “and without a doctor everything will be fine.”
Five minutes later the princess heard from her room that something heavy was being carried. She looked out - for some reason the waiters were carrying into the bedroom a leather sofa that stood in Prince Andrei's office. There was something solemn and quiet on the faces of the carrying people.
Princess Marya sat alone in her room, listening to the sounds of the house, occasionally opening the door when they passed by, and looking closely at what was going on in the corridor. Several women walked to and fro with quiet steps, looked back at the princess and turned away from her. She did not dare to ask, shut the door, returned to her room, and either sat down in her chair, or took up her prayer book, or knelt before the kiot. To her misfortune and surprise, she felt that prayer did not calm her excitement. Suddenly the door of her room quietly opened and on the threshold appeared her old nurse, Praskovya Savishna, tied with a handkerchief, who almost never, due to the prince's prohibition, did not enter her room.
“I came to sit with you, Mashenka,” said the nanny, “yes, she brought the prince’s wedding candles in front of the saint to light, my angel,” she said with a sigh.
“Oh, how glad I am, nanny.
“God is merciful, dove. - Nanny lit candles entwined with gold in front of the icon-case and sat down at the door with a stocking. Princess Mary took the book and began to read. Only when footsteps or voices were heard did the princess look frightened, inquiringly, and the nanny looked at each other reassuringly. At all ends of the house, the same feeling that Princess Mary experienced while sitting in her room was overflowing and possessed everyone. According to the belief that the fewer people know about the sufferings of the puerperal, the less she suffers, everyone tried to pretend to be ignorant; no one talked about it, but in all people, except for the usual degree and respectfulness of good manners that reigned in the prince's house, there was one kind of general concern, softened heart and consciousness of something great, incomprehensible, happening at that moment.
There was no laughter in the big girls' room. In the waiter's room, all the people sat in silence, ready for something. On the courtyard they burned torches and candles and did not sleep. The old prince, stepping on his heel, walked around the study and sent Tikhon to Marya Bogdanovna to ask: what? - Just tell me: the prince ordered to ask what? and come and tell me what she will say.
“Report to the prince that the birth has begun,” said Marya Bogdanovna, looking significantly at the messenger. Tikhon went and reported to the prince.
“Very well,” said the prince, shutting the door behind him, and Tikhon no longer heard the slightest sound in the study. A little later, Tikhon entered the office, as if to fix the candles. Seeing that the prince was lying on the sofa, Tikhon looked at the prince, at his upset face, shook his head, silently approached him and, kissing him on the shoulder, went out without adjusting the candles and without saying why he had come. The most solemn sacrament in the world continued to be performed. The evening passed, the night came. And the feeling of expectation and softening of the heart before the incomprehensible did not fall, but rose. Nobody slept.

It was one of those March nights when winter seems to want to take its toll and pour out its last snows and snowstorms with desperate anger. To meet the German doctor from Moscow, who was expected every minute and for whom a set-up was sent to the main road, to the turn into a country road, horsemen with lanterns were sent to lead him along the potholes and gaps.
Princess Mary had long since left the book: she sat in silence, fixing her radiant eyes on the wrinkled, familiar to the smallest detail, face of the nanny: at the lock of gray hair that had come out from under the scarf, at the hanging bag of skin under the chin.
Nanny Savishna, with a stocking in her hands, in a low voice, without hearing and not understanding her own words, told hundreds of times about how the deceased princess in Chisinau gave birth to Princess Marya, with a Moldavian peasant woman, instead of a grandmother.
“God have mercy, you never need a doctor,” she said. Suddenly a gust of wind blew on one of the exposed frames of the room (by the prince’s will, one frame was always set up with larks in each room) and, having beaten off the poorly pushed bolt, ruffled the damask curtain, and smelling of cold, snow, blew out the candle. Princess Mary shuddered; the nanny, putting down her stocking, went up to the window, and leaning out began to catch the open frame. A cold wind ruffled the ends of her handkerchief and gray, stray strands of hair.
- Princess, mother, someone is driving along the prefecture! she said, holding the frame and not closing it. - With lanterns, it must be, dokhtur ...
- Oh my god! Thank God! - said Princess Mary, - we must go to meet him: he does not know Russian.
Princess Marya threw on her shawl and ran to meet the travelers. When she passed the front hall, she saw through the window that some kind of carriage and lamps were standing at the entrance. She went out onto the stairs. A tallow candle stood on the railing post and flowed from the wind. The waiter Philip, with a frightened face and with another candle in his hand, was standing below, on the first landing of the stairs. Even lower, around the bend, on the stairs, steps could be heard moving in warm boots. And some kind of familiar voice, as it seemed to Princess Mary, was saying something.
- Thank God! said the voice. - And the father?
“Go to sleep,” answered the voice of the butler Demyan, who was already downstairs.
Then a voice said something else, Demyan answered something, and steps in warm boots began to approach faster along an invisible turn of the stairs. "This is Andrey! thought Princess Mary. No, it can’t be, it would be too unusual, ”she thought, and at the same moment as she thought this, on the platform on which the waiter was standing with a candle, the face and figure of Prince Andrei in a fur coat with a collar sprinkled with snow. Yes, it was him, but pale and thin, and with a changed, strangely softened, but anxious expression on his face. He entered the stairs and hugged his sister.
- You didn't get my letter? he asked, and without waiting for an answer, which he would not have received, because the princess could not speak, he returned, and with the obstetrician, who came in after him (he had gathered with him at the last station), with quick steps again entered the ladder and hugged his sister again. - What a fate! - he said, - Masha is dear - and, throwing off his fur coat and boots, he went to the half of the princess.

The little princess was lying on pillows, in a white cap. (Suffering had just let go of her.) Black hair curled in strands around her inflamed, sweaty cheeks; her ruddy, lovely mouth, with a sponge covered with black hairs, was open, and she smiled joyfully. Prince Andrei entered the room and stopped in front of her, at the foot of the sofa on which she was lying. Brilliant eyes, looking childish, frightened and agitated, rested on him without changing their expression. “I love you all, I didn’t harm anyone, why am I suffering? help me,” her expression said. She saw her husband, but did not understand the meaning of his appearance now before her. Prince Andrei walked around the sofa and kissed her on the forehead.
“My dear,” he said, a word he had never spoken to her. - God is merciful. She looked inquiringly, childishly reproachfully at him.
- I expected help from you, and nothing, nothing, and you too! her eyes said. She was not surprised that he came; she did not understand that he had come. His arrival had nothing to do with her suffering and its relief. The torment began again, and Marya Bogdanovna advised Prince Andrei to leave the room.
The obstetrician entered the room. Prince Andrei went out and, meeting Princess Marya, again approached her. They started talking in a whisper, but every minute the conversation fell silent. They waited and listened.
- Allez, mon ami, [Go, my friend,] - said Princess Mary. Prince Andrei again went to his wife, and sat down in the next room waiting. Some woman came out of her room with a frightened face and was embarrassed when she saw Prince Andrei. He covered his face with his hands and sat there for several minutes. Pathetic, helpless animal moans were heard from behind the door. Prince Andrei got up, went to the door and wanted to open it. Someone held the door.
- You can't, you can't! said a frightened voice from there. He began to walk around the room. The screams ceased, a few more seconds passed. Suddenly a terrible scream - not her scream, she could not scream like that - was heard in the next room. Prince Andrei ran to the door; the cry ceased, the cry of a child was heard.
“Why did they bring a child there? Prince Andrei thought at first. Child? What? ... Why is there a child? Or was it a baby? When he suddenly understood all the joyous meaning of this cry, tears choked him, and, leaning on the windowsill with both hands, he sobbed, sobbing, as children cry. The door opened. The doctor, with his shirt sleeves rolled up, without his coat, pale and with a trembling jaw, left the room. Prince Andrei turned to him, but the doctor looked at him in bewilderment and, without saying a word, passed by. The woman ran out and, seeing Prince Andrei, hesitated on the threshold. He entered his wife's room. She lay dead in the same position in which he had seen her five minutes earlier, and the same expression, despite the fixed eyes and the pallor of her cheeks, was on that lovely, childish face with a sponge covered with black hairs.
“I love you all and have done no harm to anyone, and what have you done to me?” her lovely, pitiful, dead face spoke. In the corner of the room, something small and red grunted and squeaked in Marya Bogdanovna's white, trembling hands.

Two hours later, Prince Andrei with quiet steps entered his father's office. The old man already knew everything. He stood at the very door, and as soon as it opened, the old man silently, with senile, hard hands, like a vise, clasped his son's neck and sobbed like a child.

Three days later, the little princess was buried, and, saying goodbye to her, Prince Andrei ascended the steps of the coffin. And in the coffin was the same face, although with closed eyes. "Oh, what have you done to me?" everything said it, and Prince Andrei felt that something had come off in his soul, that he was guilty of guilt, which he could not correct and not forget. He couldn't cry. The old man also entered and kissed her wax pen, which lay high and calm on the other, and her face said to him: “Ah, what and why did you do this to me?” And the old man turned away angrily when he saw that face.

Five days later, the young Prince Nikolai Andreevich was baptized. Mammy held the diapers with her chin, while the priest smeared the boy's wrinkled red palms and steps with a goose feather.
The godfather, the grandfather, fearing to drop, shuddering, carried the baby around a crumpled tin font and handed it over to the godmother, Princess Marya. Prince Andrei, trembling with fear lest the child be drowned, sat in another room, waiting for the end of the sacrament. He joyfully looked at the child when his nanny carried him out, and nodded his head approvingly when the nanny informed him that the wax with hairs thrown into the font did not sink, but floated along the font.

Rostov's participation in the duel between Dolokhov and Bezukhov was hushed up through the efforts of the old count, and Rostov, instead of being demoted, as he expected, was appointed adjutant to the Moscow governor general. As a result, he could not go to the village with the whole family, but remained at his new position all summer in Moscow. Dolokhov recovered, and Rostov became especially friendly with him at this time of his recovery. Dolokhov lay ill with his mother, who passionately and tenderly loved him. Old Marya Ivanovna, who fell in love with Rostov for his friendship with Fedya, often spoke to him about her son.
“Yes, count, he is too noble and pure in soul,” she used to say, “for our present, corrupted world. No one likes virtue, it pricks everyone's eyes. Well, tell me, Count, is this fair, is it honestly from Bezukhov's side? And Fedya, in his nobility, loved him, and now he never says anything bad about him. In St. Petersburg, these pranks with the quarterly were joking there, because they did it together? Well, nothing to Bezukhov, but Fedya endured everything on his shoulders! After all, what did he endure! Let's say they returned it, but why not return it? I think there were not many brave men and sons of the fatherland like him. Well now - this duel! Do these people have a sense of honor! Knowing that he The only son, challenge to a duel and shoot so straight! It's good that God has mercy on us. And for what? Well, who in our time does not have intrigue? Well, if he is so jealous? I understand, because before he could make you feel, otherwise the year went on. And well, he challenged him to a duel, believing that Fedya would not fight, because he owed him. What meanness! That's disgusting! I know you understand Fedya, my dear Count, that's why I love you with my soul, believe me. Few people understand him. This is such a high, heavenly soul!
Dolokhov himself often, during his recovery, spoke to Rostov such words that could not be expected from him. - They consider me an evil person, I know, - he used to say, - and let them. I don't want to know anyone except those whom I love; but whom I love, I love him so that I will give my life, and I will hand over the rest to everyone if they stand on the road. I have an adored, invaluable mother, two or three friends, including you, and I pay attention to the rest only as much as they are useful or harmful. And almost all are harmful, especially women. Yes, my soul, - he continued, - I met men who were loving, noble, exalted; but women, except for corrupt creatures - countesses or cooks, all the same - I have not yet met. I have not yet met that heavenly purity, devotion, which I am looking for in a woman. If I found such a woman, I would give my life for her. And these!…” He made a contemptuous gesture. – And do you believe me, if I still value life, I value it only because I still hope to meet such a heavenly being who would revive, purify and elevate me. But you don't understand it.
“No, I understand very well,” answered Rostov, who was under the influence of his new friend.

In autumn the Rostov family returned to Moscow. At the beginning of winter, Denisov also returned and stopped at the Rostovs. This first time of the winter of 1806, spent by Nikolai Rostov in Moscow, was one of the happiest and most cheerful for him and for his entire family. Nikolai attracted many young people to his parents' house. Vera was twenty years old, a beautiful girl; Sonya is a sixteen-year-old girl in all the beauty of a freshly blossomed flower; Natasha is half young lady, half girl, sometimes childishly funny, sometimes girlishly charming.
At that time, some special atmosphere of love arose in the Rostovs' house, as happens in a house where there are very nice and very young girls. Every young man who came to the Rostovs' house, looking at these young, receptive, for some reason (probably their happiness) smiling, girlish faces, at this lively bustle, listening to this inconsistent, but affectionate to everyone, ready for anything, filled with hope, babble of a woman's young people, listening to these inconsistent sounds, now singing, now music, experienced the same feeling of readiness for love and expectation of happiness that the youth of the Rostov house itself experienced.
Among the young people introduced by Rostov, was one of the first - Dolokhov, who liked everyone in the house, except for Natasha. For Dolokhov, she almost quarreled with her brother. She insisted that he evil person that in a duel with Bezukhov, Pierre was right, and Dolokhov was to blame, that he was unpleasant and unnatural.
“There is nothing for me to understand,” Natasha shouted with stubborn self-will, “he is angry and without feelings. Well, after all, I love your Denisov, he was a carouser, and that’s all, but I still love him, so I understand. I don't know how to tell you; He has everything planned, and I don't like it. Denisova…
“Well, Denisov is another matter,” answered Nikolai, making it feel that even Denisov was nothing in comparison with Dolokhov, “you need to understand what kind of soul this Dolokhov has, you need to see him with his mother, it’s such a heart!
“I don’t know about that, but I’m embarrassed with him. And do you know that he fell in love with Sonya?
- What nonsense ...
- I'm sure you'll see. - Natasha's prediction came true. Dolokhov, who did not like ladies' society, began to visit the house often, and the question of for whom he traveled was soon (although no one spoke about it) resolved so that he traveled for Sonya. And Sonya, although she would never have dared to say this, knew this, and every time, like a red tan, she blushed at the appearance of Dolokhov.
Dolokhov often dined with the Rostovs, never missed a performance where they were, and attended balls of adolescentes [teenagers] at Iogel, where the Rostovs always attended. He paid primary attention to Sonya and looked at her with such eyes that not only she could not stand this look without paint, but the old countess and Natasha blushed when they noticed this look.
It was evident that this strong, strange man was under the irresistible influence exerted on him by this black, graceful, loving girl.
Rostov noticed something new between Dolokhov and Sonya; but he did not define for himself what kind of new relationship it was. “They are all in love with someone there,” he thought about Sonya and Natasha. But he was not like before, deftly with Sonya and Dolokhov, and he began to be at home less often.
Since the autumn of 1806, everything again started talking about the war with Napoleon with even more fervor than last year. Not only a set of recruits was appointed, but also 9 more warriors out of a thousand. Everywhere they cursed Bonaparte with an anathema, and in Moscow there was only talk about the upcoming war. For the Rostov family, the whole interest of these preparations for war consisted only in the fact that Nikolushka would never agree to stay in Moscow and only waited for the end of Denisov's vacation in order to go with him to the regiment after the holidays. The impending departure not only did not prevent him from having fun, but also encouraged him to do so. He spent most of his time away from home, at dinners, parties and balls.

XI
On the third day of Christmas, Nikolai dined at home, which rarely happened to him lately. It was an official farewell dinner, since he and Denisov were leaving for the regiment after Epiphany. About twenty people dined, including Dolokhov and Denisov.
Never in the house of the Rostovs did the air of love, the atmosphere of love, make themselves felt with such force as on these days of holidays. “Catch moments of happiness, force yourself to love, fall in love yourself! Only this one thing is real in the world - the rest is all nonsense. And this is the only thing we are busy with here,” this atmosphere said. Nikolay, as always, having tortured two pairs of horses and even then without having time to visit all the places where he needed to be and where he was called, arrived home just before dinner. As soon as he entered, he noticed and felt the tension of the loving atmosphere in the house, but in addition he noticed a strange confusion reigning between some of the members of the society. Sonya, Dolokhov, the old countess, and a little Natasha were especially excited. Nikolai realized that something had to happen before dinner between Sonya and Dolokhov, and with his characteristic tenderness of heart, he was very gentle and cautious, during dinner, in dealing with both of them. On the same evening of the third day of the holidays, there was to be one of those balls at Yogel's (dance teacher), which he gave on holidays for all his students.
- Nikolenka, are you going to Yogel? Please, go, - Natasha told him, - he especially asked you, and Vasily Dmitritch (it was Denisov) is going.
“Where I don’t go on the orders of Mr. Afini!” said Denisov, who jokingly put himself in the Rostovs’ house on the foot of the knight Natasha, “pas de chale [dance with a shawl] is ready to dance.
- If I can! I promised the Arkharovs, they have an evening, - said Nikolai.
- And you? ... - he turned to Dolokhov. And as soon as I asked this, I noticed that I shouldn't have asked this.
“Yes, maybe ...” Dolokhov answered coldly and angrily, glancing at Sonya and, frowning, just with the same look that he had looked at Pierre at the club dinner, he again looked at Nikolai.
“There is something,” thought Nikolai, and this assumption was even more confirmed by the fact that Dolokhov left immediately after dinner. He called Natasha and asked what it was?
“I was looking for you,” Natasha said, running out to him. “I said you still didn’t want to believe,” she said triumphantly, “he proposed to Sonya.
No matter how little Nikolai Sonya did during this time, something seemed to come off in him when he heard this. Dolokhov was a decent and in some respects a brilliant match for the dowryless orphan Sonya. From the point of view of the old countess and society, it was impossible to refuse him. And therefore, the first feeling of Nikolai, when he heard this, was bitterness against Sonya. He was preparing to say: "And it's fine, of course, you have to forget the childhood promises and accept the offer"; but he didn't get to say it yet...
– Can you imagine! she refused, absolutely refused! Natasha spoke up. “She said she loved another,” she added, after a pause.
“Yes, my Sonya could not do otherwise!” thought Nicholas.
- No matter how much mother asked her, she refused, and I know she will not change if she said something ...

Krylov Ivan Andreevich- Russian writer, poet, publicist, translator, fabulist, publisher of satirical magazines. A wide circle of readers is better known as the author of fables.

Years of life: was born in Moscow (according to the unofficial version in the Trinity Fortress, now the city of Taganrog) - February 13, 1769- died November 21, 1844 in St. Petersburg. Died at the age of 75.

main periods of life.

1773-1775- lives with his mother in the city of Orenburg. His father serves near Orenburg, and many researchers suggest that Captain Krylov became the prototype of Captain Mironov from the story The Captain's Daughter. Personal conversations of A. S. Pushkin with I. A. Krylov about the childhood of the fabulist helped Pushkin to accurately describe the life and historical moments of the Pugachev uprising.

1774-1783- Krylov's father resigns and goes to Tver with his family. Little Vanya is educated at home. After the death of his father, he began working as a sub-clerk in court, and after moving to St. Petersburg, he received the position of a petty official in the Treasury. Actively engaged in self-education.

1805 - I. A. Krylov draws inspiration from the satirists of the past - the founder fable genre Aesop and later - Jean de La Fontaine. First, he translates Lafontaine's fables, and then writes his own instructive, and sometimes accusatory fables. The heroes of these satirical pamphlets, by their actions, exposed the vices of officials and statesmen. And it was in this field that I. A. Krylov achieved unprecedented success and fame.

1824- Krylov's fables are published in translation into French. After himself, the author leaves an impressive legacy - more than 200 fables and other works of the writer were written.

1812-1841– For 30 years, I. A. Krylov has served in the Public Library. The result of his work as a librarian was the preservation and collection of unique publications, the compilation of a Slavic Russian dictionary.

Personal life of I. A. Krylov.

The writer never tied the knot in his entire life, but there was an unsuccessful attempt to marry Anna Alekseevna Konstantinova. The bride's family did not wish the poor and humble groom, and did not agree to the wedding. There is unconfirmed information that he nevertheless had an illegitimate daughter, Alexandra, whom he raised after the death of her mother.

Curious facts from the biography.

• Ivan Andreevich liked to eat tightly, and therefore, there were jokes on this topic in society.
• He had a strange craving to see fires.
• He was passionately fond of gambling, in both capitals he lost fabulous sums.
• He liked to attend cockfights.
• He was able to quickly respond to attacks in his direction, responded with caustic and witty phrases to your opponent.

Brief information about Krylov Ivan Andreevich.

Everyone from childhood is familiar with the instructive fables of Ivan Krylov. They teach diligence, kindness, responsiveness. And they condemn cowardice, flattery and other negative qualities. Who does not know the fable about the workaholic - the ant and the dragonfly, who loved to mess around? About the cunning fox and the gullible crow. These and many other heroes came from the pen of Ivan Andreevich Krylov.

Krylov was born in Moscow in 1769, but throughout his life he managed to live in different cities. The family of the future fabulist was not rich. Ivan was very fond of reading, so he grew up as a smart, intelligent person. The father who instilled a love of reading died early. And the writer's mother had to give the boy to work in court, where the child was listed as a scribe. The mother taught the child literacy and knowledge of mathematics.

As a child, Ivan loved to attend city festivals, fairs, festivities, where he watched people, noticed interesting situations, and even took part in fisticuffs. He interacted closely with the people. Perhaps this helped him write so many witty fables.

In 1782, Krylov moved to St. Petersburg, the city of culture. Here the talent of the future fabulist begins to unfold. He wrote several plays that were appreciated by many critics. Subsequently, Krylov's works become filled with satire. Krylov found his genre and created real masterpieces within it.

Despite the fact that Krylov worked very actively and quite energetically on his fables, publishing one collection after another, he was famous for his extraordinary laziness. It happened that he fell asleep in an armchair when he came to visit friends. Working as a secretary for Prince Golitsyn, he performed his duties extremely reluctantly and slowly. Also, the fabulist was famous for his love of eating well. There was an opinion that he died of gluttony, but this is not so. Krylov passed away due to pneumonia. This happened in the autumn of 1844.

Ivan Andreevich Krylov is known and loved for his wise, vital, sparkling fables. Contemporaries also appreciated his good nature. The work of the fabulist is priceless, it is included in the golden collection of Russian literature.

Biography 2

Ivan Andreevich Krylov (1749-1844), famous primarily for the authorship of 236 fables, was also a recognized playwright of his time, publicist and publisher of the Spirits Mail, Spectator, and Mercury magazines. A talented translator and author, at the same time a cheerful and simple person, he, meanwhile, lived a difficult, albeit interesting life.

The writer was born in 1749 in Moscow. His father, Andrei Prokhorovich Krylov, did not receive an education, but he was a literate person, loved reading, and dreamed of teaching his son. Therefore, even as a child, he sends Ivan to study, but the financial well-being of his family does not allow them to stay in Moscow for a long time, and the family moves to Tver, where his father receives a new position, which, unfortunately, does not save the Krylovs, since Andrei Prokhorovich dies in 1778 year, and the family begins to live in poverty. So, Ivan Andreevich Krylov does not finish his studies. On his life path, he tries many professions, which he learns on his own, and at the end of his life he even becomes a single Academician and a favorite of the royal family.

The life and work of Ivan Krylov. Full biography

The birth of Ivan Andreevich fell on a cold February 1769. The boy was born in Moscow, but the lack of money and work soon forced the family to move to Tver. The father of the family, a military man without regalia, died when Ivan was only 9 years old. And the mother and two sons were in an even more distressed situation.

Of course, a good education in such a situation was out of the question. The guy was saved by the love of reading and, inherited from his father, a chest of books. He learned French thanks to benevolent neighbors who allowed him to attend their children's lessons. Diligent self-education allowed Ivan to master several musical instruments.

Constant stay in a semi-poor class and communication with the common people enriched the language of the future fabulist. He studied the manners and life of the poor well, knowing firsthand what he was writing about. Ivan began working early in a low-paid clerical position. And from the age of 15 he began to try his hand at creativity, although his first works remained unnoticed. A few years later, the Krylovs moved to St. Petersburg, where the mother helps to arrange her son as an orderly servant in the state chamber.

AT big city the young man joins the theatrical life. This contributes to his desire to create. It was not possible to combine permanent work with creative opportunities, and at the age of 18 Ivan leaves his position to devote himself to writing. At first, his work did not win praise. The first written tragedy, Philomela, was, to put it mildly, unsuccessful. But this did not stop the author. It was followed by several comedies, which, although they were criticized, showed a noticeable increase in the skill of the writer.
From the age of 20, Krylov began to actively engage in the release of satirical magazines. The first journal "Mail of Spirits", in collaboration with Rakhmanin, stayed afloat for only a year. It was followed by "Spectator" and "St. Petersburg Mercury". In these editions, the first prose works of Ivan Andreevich and his associates were published. Bold authors allowed themselves to denounce landowner morals, which, probably, could cause persecution. Krylov leaves the city and does not write for 7 years.

In 1806 he resumes creative work successfully translating La Fontaine's fables published in the Moscow Spectator magazine. In the same year, having returned to St. Petersburg, he staged two comedies "Fashion Shop" and "Lesson to Daughters", which are a success with the public. After all, French mania is ridiculed in them, and the people are tired of the Napoleonic wars.

Creative takeoff and universal love come to the author in 1809, after the first printed collection of fables, including the famous " Elephant and Pug". After 3 years, the writer returns to serve in the public library, where he will work for 29 years. During these years, more than 200 fables written by Ivan Andreevich saw the light. The writer skillfully knew how to ridicule in them human vices and the reality of the harsh life of that time. A huge number of his phrases became winged, they were understandable to all sectors of society, and not just the educated. Popular love is proved by the fact that only during his lifetime 80 thousand collections of fables were published.

Contemporaries describe the writer as a calm, absent-minded, lazy, but at the same time good-natured person who does not like to quarrel. Jokes were made about his slovenliness and love for gluttony, which, however, did not leave him without the attention of the weaker sex, thanks to his innate charm. Officially, he never married like that, but according to rumors, he had civil wife, his housekeeper Fenya and illegitimate daughter Sasha. He lived with them until the end of his days, happily nursed Sasha's children and transferred all his fortune to her husband. Ivan Andreevich passed away in November 1844.

The writer was born on the territory of the capital of Ukraine. He was the eldest of seven children in his family. He was very educated, successfully graduated from the university and after studying went to work in a hospital, as it was popular among his peers.