The protagonist of the novel is Julien Sorel. Characteristics of the character of Julien Sorel, the main stages of his life Julien brought him to his eyes and saw

“Abstract The novel“ Red and Black ”is a tragic story of the life of Julien Sorel, dreaming of the glory of Napoleon. Making a career, Julien followed his cold, ... "

-- [ Page 1 ] --

Frederic Stendhal

Red and black

Text provided by the publisher

http://www.litres.ru/pages/biblio_book/?art\u003d134566

Red and black. Parma monastery: AST; Moscow; 2008

ISBN 978-5-94643-026-5, 978-5-17-013219-5

annotation

The novel "Red and Black" is a tragic story

life path of Julien Sorel, dreaming of fame

Napoleon. Making a career, Julien followed his

cold, calculating mind, but deep down always

was in an endless argument with himself, in the struggle between

ambition and honor.

But ambitious dreams were not destined to come true.

Contents Part One 4 I. Township 4 II. Mr. Mayor 11 III. Property of the Poor 17 IV. Father and Son 27 V. Deal 34 VI. Trouble 48 VII. Electoral affinity 63 VIII. Small incidents 83 IX. Evening at the estate 98 X. Much nobility and little money 113 XI. In the evening 119 XII. Journey 128 XIII. Fishnet stockings 140 XIV. British scissors 150 XV. The rooster sang 156 XVI. The next day 163 XVII. Senior Assistant to the Mayor 172 XVIII. King in the Verrier 182 XIX. To think is to suffer 207 XX. Anonymous letters 222 XXI. Dialogue with Mr. 230 End of the introductory fragment. 235 Frederic Stendhal Red and Black Part One Truth, bitter truth.

Danton I. Town Put thousands together - less bad, But the cage less gay.

Hobbes1 The town of Verrieres is perhaps one of the most picturesque in the whole of Franche-Comté. White houses with red-tiled peaked roofs sprawl along the hillside, where clumps of powerful chestnuts rise from each valley. Du runs a few hundred paces below the city's fortifications; they were once built by the Spaniards, but now only ruins remain.

Put thousands of better people together, it gets worse in the cage. Hobbes (eng.).

From the north, the Verrier is protected by a high mountain - this is one of the spurs of the Jura. The split peaks of Verra are covered with snow from the very first October frosts. A stream rushes from the mountain; before entering the Doubs, it runs through the Verrière and sets in motion many sawmills on its way. This simple industry brings a certain prosperity to the majority of the inhabitants, who are more like peasants than townspeople. However, the sawmills did not enrich this town; the production of printed fabrics, the so-called Mulhouse heels, was the source of general prosperity, which, after the fall of Napoleon, made it possible to renovate the facades of almost all houses in Verrière.

As soon as you enter the city, you are deafened by the roar of some heavily hooting and terrible-looking machine. Twenty heavy hammers come crashing down with a roar that shakes the pavement; they are lifted by a wheel driven by a mountain stream.

Each of these hammers makes daily, I will not say how many thousands of nails. Blooming, pretty girls are engaged in substituting pieces of iron under the blows of these huge hammers, which immediately turn into nails. This production, so crude in appearance, is one of those things that most amaze the traveler, who first finds himself in the mountains separating France from Helvetia. If a traveler who has got to the Verrieres is curious about whose wonderful nail factory it is that deafens passers-by walking along Bolshaya Street, he will be answered with a drawn-out saying: "Ah, the factory is Mr. Mayor."

And if a traveler lingers even for a few minutes on the Great Rue Verriere, which stretches from the banks of the Doubs to the very top of the hill, there is a sure hundred chances against one that he will certainly meet a tall man with an important and anxious face.

As soon as he appears, all the hats are hurriedly lifted. His hair is streaked with gray, he is dressed all in gray. He is a holder of several orders, he has a high forehead, an aquiline nose, and in general his face is not devoid of a certain regularity of features, and at first glance it may even seem that he combines with the dignity of a provincial mayor a certain pleasantness, which is sometimes still inherent in people at forty eight - fifty years old. However, very soon the traveling Parisian will be unpleasantly struck by an expression of self-satisfaction and arrogance, in which some kind of limitation, a paucity of imagination, appears. It is felt that all the talents of this person boil down to making everyone who owes him pay with the utmost accuracy, and to wait as long as possible to pay off his debts.

Such is the Mayor of Verrieres, M. de Renal. Crossing the street with an important step, he enters the mayor's office and disappears from the traveler's eyes. But if the traveler continues his walk, then, having walked a hundred more steps, he will notice a rather beautiful house, and behind the cast-iron lattice that surrounds the property, a magnificent garden. Behind him, outlining the line of the horizon, stretch the Burgundian hills, and it seems as if all this was conceived on purpose to please the eye. This view can make the traveler forget about the atmosphere plagued by petty baryship, in which he is already beginning to suffocate.

It will be explained to him that this house belongs to M. de Renal. It was with the proceeds of a large nail factory that the Mayor of Verieri built his beautiful mansion of cut stone, and now he is finishing it. They say that his ancestors are Spaniards, from an old family, which supposedly settled in these parts long before their conquest by Louis XIV.

Since 1815, the Mayor has been ashamed of being a manufacturer: in 1815 he made him mayor of the city of Verrieres. The massive ledges of the walls that support the vast grounds of a magnificent park that descend in terraces all the way down to the Doubs is also a well-deserved reward for Monsieur de Renal's deep knowledge of hardware.

In France, there is nothing to hope to see such picturesque gardens as those that encircle the industrial cities of Germany - Leipzig, Frankfurt, Nuremberg and others. In Franche-Comte, the more walls are enclosed, the more your possessions bristle with stones piled one on top of the other, the more you acquire the rights to be respected by your neighbors. And the gardens of Mr. de Renal, where all the walls are on the wall, also cause such admiration that some of the small plots that belonged to them, Mr. Mayor acquired downright worth its weight in gold. Here, for example, is that sawmill on the very bank of the Doubs, which amazed you at the entrance to the Verrière, and you also noticed the name "Sorel", printed in giant letters on a board across the entire roof - it was six years ago on the same the place where M. de Renal is now building the wall of the fourth terrace of his gardens.

No matter how proud Mr. Mayor is, he had to court and persuade old Sorel, a stubborn, tough peasant; and he had to pay in cash a considerable amount of ringing gold to convince him to move his sawmill to another place. As for the public stream, which forced the saw to walk, M. de Renal, thanks to his connections in Paris, managed to be taken to a different channel. He won this token of favor after the 1821 election.

He gave Sorel four arpans at a time, five hundred paces down the banks of the Du River, and although this new location was much more profitable for the production of spruce boards, Sorel's father - so they began to call him since he became rich - managed to squeeze out of impatience and the mania of the owner, overwhelming his neighbor, a tidy sum of six thousand francs.

True, the local wiseacres slandered about this deal. Once, on Sunday, it was four years ago, M. de Renal, in full mayor's vestments, was returning from the church and saw from afar old Sorel: he stood with his three sons and grinned at him. This grin shed a fatal light on the soul of Mr. Mayor - since then he has been gnawing at the thought that he could have made the exchange much cheaper.

In order to earn public respect in the Verrier, it is very important, piling up as many walls as possible, not to be seduced by some invention of these Italian masons who make their way through the Jura gorges in the spring, heading to Paris.

Such an innovation would have earned the careless builder forever the reputation of a madcap, and he would forever perish in the opinion of the prudent and moderate people who are precisely in charge of the distribution of social respect in Franche-Comte.

In all honesty, these clever people display absolutely unbearable despotism, and it is this vile word that makes life in small towns unbearable for anyone who lived in a great republic called Paris. The tyranny of public opinion - and what an opinion! - is as stupid in small towns in France as in the American United States.

II. Mr. Mayor Prestige! How, sir, do you think this is nothing? Honor from fools, kids staring in amazement, envy of the rich, contempt of a sage.

Barnave Fortunately for M. de Renal and his reputation as ruler of the city, the city boulevard, perched on a hillside, hundreds of feet above the Doubs, had to be surrounded by an enormous retaining wall. From here, thanks to an extremely successful location, one of the most picturesque views of France opens up. But every spring the boulevard was washed out by rains, the paths turned into continuous ruts, and it became completely unsuitable for walking. This inconvenience, felt by all, put M. de Renal in the happy necessity of perpetuating his rule by erecting a stone wall twenty feet high and thirty or forty toises in length.

The parapet of this wall, for which M. de Renal had to travel to Paris three times, because the penultimate Minister of the Interior declared himself the mortal enemy of the boulevard of Veriers, this parapet now rises about four feet above the ground. And, as if challenging all ministers, past and present, it is now decorated with granite slabs.

How many times, immersed in the memories of the balls of recently abandoned Paris, leaning my chest on these huge stone slabs of a beautiful gray color, slightly shimmering with blue, I wandered my gaze along the Doux valley. In the distance, on the left bank, there are five to six valleys, in the depths of which the eye can clearly distinguish streaming streams. They run down, here and there they fall down with waterfalls and, finally, plunge into Du. The sun in our mountains bakes hot, and when it stands directly overhead, the traveler dreaming on this terrace is protected by the shade of magnificent plane trees. Thanks to the alluvial soil, they grow quickly, and their luxurious greenery casts a blue, for the mayor ordered to heap the earth along his entire huge retaining wall; despite the opposition of the city council, he widened the boulevard by about six feet (for which I praise him, although he is an ultra-royalist, and I am a liberal), and that is why this terrace, in his opinion, and also in the opinion of Mr. Valno, the prosperous director of the Verier nursing home, is in no way inferior to the Saint-Germain terrace in Le.

As for me, I can only complain about one shortcoming of the Alley of Faithfulness - the official name can be read in fifteen or twenty places on the marble boards, for which M. de Renal was awarded another cross - in my opinion, the lack of the Alley of Allegiance - these are barbarously mutilated powerful plane trees: they are sheared and carnated mercilessly by order of their superiors. Instead of assimilating with their round, flattened crowns to the most ordinary-looking garden vegetables, they could freely acquire those magnificent forms that you see on their counterparts in England. But the will of the lord mayor is unbreakable, and twice a year all the trees belonging to the community are ruthlessly amputated. Local liberals say - but this is, of course, an exaggeration - that the hand of the city gardener has become much more severe since the time when Monsieur Vicar Malone began to appropriate the fruits of this haircut.

This young clergyman had been sent from Besançon a few years ago to oversee the Abbot Chelan and several other curés in the vicinity. The old regimental physician, a participant in the Italian campaign, retired to retirement in the Verrières and who, according to the mayor, was both a Jacobin and a Bonapartist during his lifetime, once dared to reproach the mayor for this systematic mutilation of beautiful trees.

“I love shade,” Monsieur de Renal replied, with that tinge of arrogance in his voice, which is acceptable when talking with a regimental physician, knight of the Legion of Honor, “I love shade and will have my trees trimmed so that they give shade. And I don't know what else trees are good for if they cannot, like, for example, a useful nut, generate income.

Here it is, the great word that decides everything in Verrier: to bring income; the thoughts of more than three-quarters of the entire population invariably boil down to this, and to this alone.

Bringing in income is the reason that drives everything in this town that seemed so beautiful to you. A stranger who finds himself here, captivated by the beauty of the cool, deep valleys that encircle the town, imagines at first that the local inhabitants are very susceptible to beauty; they endlessly repeat about the beauty of their land; it cannot be denied that they value it very much, for it attracts foreigners, whose money enriches the owners of hotels, and this, in turn, due to the current laws on city taxes, brings income to the city.

One fine autumn day, M. de Renal was walking along the Alley of Fidelity, arm in arm with his wife. As she listened to the reasoning of her husband, who spoke with a dignified air, Madame de Renal watched her three boys with a restless gaze. The elder, who could have been about eleven years old, now and then ran up to the parapet with the clear intention of climbing it. A gentle voice then pronounced the name of Adolf, and the boy immediately abandoned his bold venture. Madame de Renal looked about thirty years old, but she was still very pretty.

“As much as he might later regret this upstart from Paris,” said M. de Renal in an offended tone, and his usually pale cheeks seemed even paler. - I will find friends at the court ... But although I intend to tell you about the province for two hundred pages, I am not such a barbarian as to torment you with the lengthy and tricky roundabouts of provincial conversation.

This upstart from Paris, so hated by the mayor, was none other than Monsieur Upper, who two days ago contrived to infiltrate not only the prison and the ward's house of care, but also the hospital, which is in the free care of the mayor and the city's most prominent homeowners.

“But,” Madame de Renal answered timidly, “what can this gentleman from Paris do to you if you dispose of the property of the poor with such scrupulous conscientiousness?

- He came here only to moan at us, and then he will go squeezing articles in liberal newspapers.

“Why, you never read them, my friend.

“But we are constantly being told about these Jacobin articles; all this distracts us and prevents us from doing good. No, as for me, I will never forgive our priest for this.

III. Property of the Poor A virtuous priest, alien to all intrigues, is truly the grace of God for the village.

Fleury It must be said that the Vereres curé, an eighty-year-old man who, thanks to the life-giving air of the local mountains, retained his iron health and iron character, enjoyed the right to visit the prison, the hospital, and even the nursing home at any time. So Mr. Upper, who was supplied in Paris with a letter of introduction to the priest, had the prudence to arrive in this little inquisitive town at exactly six o'clock in the morning and immediately came to the priest's house.

As he read a letter written to him by the Marquis de La Mole, the peer of France and the richest landowner in the whole area, the curé Chelan became thoughtful.

"I am an old man, and they love me here," he finally said in an undertone, talking to himself, "they will not dare." And immediately, turning to the visiting Parisian, he said, raising his eyes, in which, despite his advanced age, the sacred fire sparkled, indicating that he was pleased to perform a noble, albeit somewhat risky act:

- Come with me, sir, but I ask you not to say in the presence of the prison guard, and especially in the presence of the nursing home guards, absolutely nothing about what we will see.

Mr. Upper realized that he was dealing with a courageous man; he went with the venerable priest, visited with him a prison, a hospital, a nursing home, asked many questions, but, despite the strange answers, did not allow himself to express the slightest condemnation.

This inspection lasted several hours.

The priest invited Mr. Upper to dine with him, but he excused himself by saying that he had to write a lot of letters:

he did not want to compromise his magnanimous companion any more. At about three o'clock they went to finish their visit to the nursing home and then returned to the prison. The watchman met them at the door

- bow-legged giant of fathom growth; his already disgusting physiognomy became completely disgusting with fear.

“Ah, sir,” he said, as soon as he saw the priest, “this gentleman who came with you, isn't it Mr. Upper?

- Well, what then? - said the priest.

“And the fact that I received a precise order about them yesterday — the prefect sent it with a gendarme who had to gallop all night — in no case should Mr. Upper be allowed into prison.

“I can tell you, Monsieur Noirou,” said the curé, “that this newcomer who came with me is indeed Monsieur Upper. You should know that I have the right to enter the prison at any hour of the day or night and I can bring anyone I want with me.

“That’s how it is, Monsieur Curé,” answered the watchman, lowering his voice and dropping his head like a bulldog who is forced to obey by showing him a stick. - Only, Monsieur Curé, I have a wife, children, and if there is a complaint against me, and I lose my job, how can I live then? After all, only the service feeds me.

- I, too, would be very sorry to be deprived of the parish, - answered the honest priest in a voice broken with emotion.

- Eka was compared! - the watchman answered briskly. - You, Monsieur Curé - everyone knows that - eight hundred livres of rent and a piece of your own land.

These are the incidents, exaggerated, altered in twenty ways, have fueled all sorts of vicious passions in the small town of Verrier for the last two days. They were now the subject of a little disagreement between M. de Renal and his wife. In the morning Monsieur de Renal, together with Monsieur Valno, the director of the nursing home, came to the priest to express his most lively displeasure. Mr. Shelan had no patrons; he felt the consequences of this conversation.

- Well, gentlemen, apparently, I will be the third priest, who at the age of eighty will be refused a place in these parts. I've been here for fifty-six years; I baptized almost all the inhabitants of this city, which was only a village when I arrived here. Every day I marry young people, as I once married their grandfathers. The verrier is my family, but the fear of leaving him cannot force me to enter into a deal with my conscience, or to be guided in my actions by anything other than her. When I saw this newcomer, I said to myself: "Perhaps this Parisian is indeed a liberal - there are now many of them divorced - but what can he do harm to our poor people or prisoners?"

However, the reproaches of M. de Renal, and in particular of Mr. Valno, the director of the nursing home, became more and more offensive.

- Well, gentlemen, take the parish from me! Exclaimed the old curé in a trembling voice. - I still will not leave these places. Everyone knows that forty-eight years ago I inherited a small piece of land that brings me eight hundred livres; that's what I will live on. After all, gentlemen, I do not make any collateral savings in my service, and perhaps that is why I am not afraid when they threaten me with being fired.

Monsieur de Renal lived with his wife very amicably, but not knowing what to answer her question when she timidly repeated: "And what harm can this Parisian do to our prisoners?" - he was about to flare up when suddenly she screamed. Her second son jumped onto the parapet and ran over it, although the wall rose more than twenty feet above the vineyard that stretched on its other side. Fearing that the child, frightened, would not fall, Madame de Renal did not dare to call him. Finally the boy, who was all beaming with his boldness, looked back at his mother and, seeing that she had turned pale, jumped off the parapet and ran up to her. He was reprimanded properly.

This little incident made the couple turn the conversation to another subject.

“I decided to take this Sorel, the sawmill’s son, with me,” said M. de Renal. - He will look after the children, otherwise they have become something too playful. This is a young theologian, almost a priest; he knows Latin perfectly and will be able to make them learn; the curé says he has a strong character. I will give him three hundred francs of salary and a table.

I had some doubts about his good-naturedness, because he was the favorite of this old doctor, Knight of the Legion of Honor, who, using the pretext that he was some kind of Sorel's relative, came to them and stayed on their breads. But it is very possible that this man was, in essence, a secret agent of the liberals; he insisted that our mountain air helps him from asthma, but who knows? He and Buonaparte went through all the Italian campaigns, and they say, even when they voted for the Empire, they wrote "no". This liberal taught Sorel's son and left him many books that he brought with him. Of course, it would never have occurred to me to take the son of a carpenter to my children, but just before this story, because of which I now had a quarrel with the priest forever, he told me that Sorel's son had been studying theology for three years and was going to do to the seminary, which means that he is not a liberal, and, besides, he is a Latinist. But there are also some other considerations, - continued Monsieur de Renal, looking at his wife with the air of a diplomat. - Mr. Valno is so proud that he has acquired a pair of beautiful Norman women for his trip. But his children do not have a tutor.

- He can still intercept him from us.

“So you approve of my project,” said Mr. de Renal, thanking his wife with a smile for the wonderful thought she had just expressed. “So it’s decided.”

- Oh, my God, my dear friend, how everything is soon solved with you.

- Because I am a man of character, and our priest will be convinced of this now. There is no need to delude yourself - we are here on all sides surrounded by liberals. All these manufacturers envy me, I am sure of that;

two or three of them have already made their way into the moneybags. Well, let them watch as the children of M. de Renal go for a walk under the supervision of their tutor. This will inspire them something. My grandfather often told us that he always had a tutor in his childhood.

It will cost me about a hundred crowns, but in our position, this expense is necessary to maintain prestige.

This sudden decision made Madame de Renal pause. Madame de Renal, a tall, stately woman, was once known, as they say, the first beauty in the whole district. There was something innocent and youthful in her appearance, in her demeanor. This naive grace, full of innocence and liveliness, could, perhaps, captivate the Parisian with some hidden ardor. But if Madame de Renal knew that she could make an impression of this kind, she would be burned with shame. Her heart was alien to any coquetry or pretense. It was rumored that Mr. Valno, a rich man, director of a nursing home, courted her, but without the slightest success, which earned a resounding fame for her virtue, for Mr. Valno, a tall man in the prime of his years, a powerful physique, with a ruddy face and magnificent black sideburns, belonged to that sort of rude, impudent and noisy people who are called "handsome man" in the provinces. Madame de Renal, a very timid creature, had an apparently extremely uneven character, and she was extremely irritated by the constant fussiness and deafening rumblings of M. Valno's voice. And since she shied away from everything that is called fun in the Verrier, they began to say about her that she was too proud of her origin. She did not even think of this, but she was very pleased when the inhabitants of the town began to visit her less often. We will not hide the fact that in the eyes of the local ladies she was reputed to be a fool, because she did not know how to conduct any policy towards her husband and missed the most convenient opportunities to make him buy an elegant hat for her in Paris or Besançon. If only no one would bother her wandering in her wonderful garden, she would not ask for anything else.

It was a simple soul: she could never even have any claims to judge her husband or admit to herself that she was bored with him.

She believed - never, however, without thinking about it - that between husband and wife there could be no other, more tender relationship. She loved Monsieur de Renal most of all when he told her about his projects for children, of whom he predicted one for the military, another for an official, and the third for a minister of the church. In general, she found Monsieur de Renal much less boring than all the other men who visited them.

This was the reasonable opinion of his wife. The Mayor of Verrière owed his reputation as a witty man, and especially a man of good manners, to half a dozen jokes he inherited from his uncle. The old Captain de Renal had served in the infantry regiment of His Grace the Duke of Orleans before the revolution and, when he was in Paris, enjoyed the privilege of visiting the Crown Prince at his house. There he happened to see Madame de Montesson, the famous Madame de Jeanlis, M. Ducre, the Palais-Royal inventor.

All these characters constantly figured in M. de Renal's anecdotes. But little by little the art of putting on such delicate and now forgotten details became a difficult task for him, and for some time he resorted to anecdotes from the life of the Duke of Orleans only on especially solemn occasions. Since, among other things, he was a very courteous man, except, of course, those cases when it came to money, then he was justly considered the greatest aristocrat in the Verrieres.

IV. Father and son E sar mia colpa, se cos?

Machiavelli2 “No, my wife is really clever,” the Verier mayor said to himself the next day at six o'clock in the morning, going down to the sawmill of Sorel's father. - Although I myself raised a conversation about this in order to preserve, as it should be, my superiority, it never entered my head that if I did not take this Abbey Sorel, who, they say, knows Latin like an angel of God, then the director of the nursing home - this is a truly restless soul - can, just as well as I, have the same thought and intercept it from me. And what a smug tone he would begin to talk about the tutor of his children ... Well, if I get this tutor, what will he wear with me, in a cassock? "

Monsieur de Renal was deeply indecisive on this score, but then he saw from afar a tall, almost a fathom tall peasant who worked from early morning, measuring the huge logs stacked along the banks of the Doubs, on the very road to the market.

And is it my fault if it really is? Machiavelli (it.).

The peasant, apparently, was not very happy when he saw the approaching mayor, since huge logs blocked the road, and they were not supposed to lie in this place.

Papa Sorel - for it was none other than him - was extremely surprised, and even more delighted at the extraordinary proposal with which M. de Renal turned to him regarding his son Julien. However, he listened to him with an air of gloomy discontent and complete indifference, which so skillfully covers the cunning of the natives of these mountains. Slaves during the Spanish yoke, they still have not lost this feature of the Egyptian fellah.

Papa Sorel first responded with a long greeting, consisting of a set of all kinds of respectful expressions that he knew by heart. While he mumbled these meaningless words, squeezing out a crooked smile on his lips, which further emphasized the insidious and slightly roguish expression of his physiognomy, the businesslike mind of the old peasant was trying to figure out what it was for such an important person to take his parasite into his head. -son. He was very unhappy with Julien, but for him it was M. de Renal who unexpectedly offered him three hundred francs a year with a table and even clothes. This last condition, which Papa Sorel immediately guessed to put forward, was also accepted by M. de Renal.

The mayor was shocked by this demand. “If Sorel doesn’t feel favored and, apparently, is not as enthusiastic about my proposal as one might expect, then it’s quite clear,” he told himself, “that he had already been approached with such an offer; and who could have done it, except Valno? " In vain did M. de Renal seek the last word from Sorel in order to end the case at once; The cunning of the old peasant made him stubborn: he needed, he said, to talk to his son; Yes, is it ever heard in the provinces that a rich father consults with a son who has not a penny in his soul? Is it really just for the sake of appearance.

The water sawmill is a barn built on the bank of a stream. Its roof rests on rafters, which are supported by four thick pillars. At a height of eight or ten feet, a saw goes up and down in the middle of the shed, and a log is moved to it with a very simple mechanism.

The stream turns the wheel, and it sets in motion this whole double mechanism: the one that raises and lowers the saw, and the one that quietly moves the logs to the saw, which cuts them, turning them into planks.

Approaching his workshop, Sorel's father called Julien in a loud voice - no one answered.

He saw only his elder sons, real giants, who, swinging with heavy axes, hewed spruce trunks, preparing them for sawing.

Trying to cut flush with the black mark drawn along the trunk, they separated huge chips with each blow of the ax. They didn’t hear their father shout.

He went to the barn, but, entering there, did not find Julien in the place near the saw where he should have been. He did not find it immediately, five or six feet higher. Julien sat astride the rafters and, instead of carefully observing the progress of the saw, read a book. There could be nothing more hateful for old Sorel; he would, perhaps, even forgive Julien for his frail build, not very suitable for physical work and so unlike the tall figures of his eldest sons, but this passion for reading was disgusting to him: he himself could not read.

He called out to Julien two or three times without any success. The young man's attention was completely absorbed by the book, and this, perhaps, much more than the noise of the saw, prevented him from hearing his father's thunderous voice.

Then the old man, in spite of his years, nimbly jumped onto the log lying under the saw, and from there onto the crossbeam that supported the roof. A powerful blow knocked the book out of Julien's hands, and it fell into the stream; a second, equally powerful blow fell on Julien's head - he lost his balance and would have flown from a height of twelve or fifteen feet under the very levers of the machine, which would have grinded him to pieces if his father had not caught him with his left hand on the fly.

Stunned by the blow and covered in blood, Julien all the same went to the indicated place near the saw. Tears welled up in his eyes - not so much from pain as from chagrin over the lost book, which he passionately loved.

- Get down, you brute, I need to talk to you.

The rumble of the car again prevented Julien from hearing his father's order. And the father, who was already standing below, not wanting to bother himself and climb up again, grabbed a long pole with which he knocked nuts off, and hit his son on the shoulder with it. As soon as Julien jumped down to the ground, old Sorel slapped him on the back and, roughly pushing him, drove him towards the house. "God knows what he will do to me now," thought the young man. And furtively he glanced sadly at the stream where his book had fallen - it was his favorite book: "Memorial of St. Helena."

His cheeks were flushed; he walked without looking up. He was a short youth of eighteen or nineteen years of age, rather fragile in appearance, with irregular but delicate features and a chiseled nose with a crooked nose. Large black eyes, which in moments of calm sparkled with thought and fire, now burned with the most fierce hatred. His dark brown hair grew so low that it almost covered his forehead, which made his face look very angry when he got angry. Among the innumerable varieties of human faces, one can hardly find another such face that would be distinguished by such a striking originality.

The slender and flexible body of the young man spoke more of dexterity than strength. From an early age, his unusually pensive appearance and extreme pallor made his father think that his son was not a tenant in this world, and if he survived, it would only be a burden for the family. All the household despised him, and he hated his brothers and father; at the Sunday games in the town square, he was invariably among the beaten.

Over the past year, however, his handsome face has begun to attract the sympathetic attention of some of the young girls. Everyone treated him with contempt, as a weak creature, and Julien became attached with all his heart to the old regimental doctor, who once dared to express his opinion to the mayor regarding the plane trees.

This retired physician sometimes bought Julien from Sorel's father for the whole day and taught him Latin and history, that is, what he himself knew from history, and these were the Italian campaigns of 1796. Dying, he bequeathed to the boy his Cross of the Legion of Honor, the remains of a small pension and thirty to forty volumes of books, of which the most precious one has just dived into the city stream, which changed its course thanks to the connections of Mr. Mayor.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the house, Julien felt his father's mighty hand on his shoulder; he shivered, expecting blows to fall on him.

- Answer me, don't you dare lie! A rough peasant voice shouted into his ear, and a powerful hand turned him around, like a child's hand turns a tin soldier. Julien's large black eyes full of tears met the piercing gray eyes of the old carpenter, which seemed to try to look into his very soul.

V. Cunctando restituit rem deal.

- Answer me, damned book reader, but don't you dare to lie, even though you cannot do without it, how do you know Madame de Renal? When did you manage to talk to her?

“I never spoke to her,” Julien replied. - If I ever saw this lady, it was only in church.

“So you were staring at her, you impudent creature?

- Never. You know that in the church I see no one but God, ”added Julien, pretending to be a saint in the hope that this would save him from the beatings.

“No, there’s something here,” said the sly old man, and fell silent for a minute. - But what can you get out of you, you mean prude? Well, be that as it may, I'll get rid of you, and my saw will only benefit from it. Somehow you managed to get around Monsieur Curé or whoever else was there, that they gave you a nice place. Go and collect your belongings, and I will take you to Monsieur de Renal. You saved the situation with him as a tutor. Annius (lat.).

desh, with children.

- And what will I get for this?

- A table, clothes and three hundred francs of salary.

“I don’t want to be a lackey.

- Beast! And who tells you about the footman? Well, I wish I had a son as a lackey?

- Who will I eat with?

This question puzzled old Sorel: he felt that if he continued the conversation, it could lead to trouble; he attacked Julien with abuse, reproaching him with gluttony, and finally left him and went to consult with his eldest sons.

After some time, Julien saw how they all stood together, leaning on axes, and held the family council. He looked at them for a long time, but, making sure that he still would not guess what was at stake, he walked around the sawmill and settled on the other side of the saw so that he would not be taken by surprise. He wanted to think on the loose about this unexpected news, which was supposed to turn his whole fate, but he felt himself now incapable of any reasonableness, his imagination now and then carried away to what awaited him in the wonderful house of M. de Renal ...

“No, it’s better to give up all this,” he told himself, “than to allow me to sit at the same table with the servants. Father, of course, will try to coerce me by force; no, better off dead. I have fifteen francs and eight sous saved; I will run away tonight, and in two days, if I go straight through the mountains, where there is not a single gendarme at all, I will find myself in Besançon; I’ll sign up as a soldier there, or else I’ll escape to Switzerland. But only then will there be nothing ahead, I will never achieve the title of priest, which opens the way to everything. "

This fear of being at the same table with a servant was not at all inherent in Julien's nature. To make his way, he would have gone to other tests. He drew this disgust directly from Rousseau's Confessions. It was the only book with which his imagination drew light for him. The collection of the reports of the great army and the "Memorial of Saint Helena" - these are the three books that contained his Koran. He was ready to die for these three books. He did not believe any other books. From the words of the old regimental doctor, he believed that all the other books in the world were sheer lies, and they were written by scoundrels who wanted to curry favor.

Gifted with a fiery soul, Julien also possessed an amazing memory, which is often the case with fools. To win the heart of the old Abbot Shelan, on whom, as he clearly saw, his entire future depended, he memorized the entire New Testament in Latin; he learned in the same way the book "On the Pope" by de Maistre, equally not believing either one or the other.

As if by mutual agreement, Sorel and his son did not speak to each other anymore during the day. In the evening Julien went to the priest for a theology lesson; however, he decided not to act rashly and said nothing to him about the extraordinary offer he had been made to his father. “What if it's some kind of trap? He said to himself. "Better to pretend I just forgot about it."

Early the next morning, M. de Renal sent for old Sorel, and he, forcing himself to wait an hour or two, finally appeared and, not yet crossing the threshold, began to bow down and scatter in apologies. After long interrogations in oblique terms, Sorel was convinced that his son would dine with the owner and the hostess, and on the days when they would have guests, separately, in the nursery, with the children. Seeing that the mayor was really impatient to get his son to him, amazed and filled with distrust, Sorel became more and more picky and finally demanded to be shown the room where his son would sleep. It turned out to be a large, very decently furnished room, and it was with them that the cribs of three children were already being dragged there.

This circumstance seemed to clarify something for the old peasant; he immediately demanded with confidence that he be shown the clothes that his son would receive. M. de Renal opened the office and took out a hundred francs.

“Here’s the money: let your son go to Monsieur Durand, the draper, and order himself a black pair.

"And if I take him away from you," said the peasant, suddenly forgetting all his respectful antics, "will this clothes remain for him?"

- Of course.

“Well, then,” Sorel said slowly. - Now, then, we have to agree on only one thing:

how much salary you will give him.

- So how? Exclaimed M. de Renal. “We finished it yesterday: I am giving him three hundred francs; I think that this is quite enough, and maybe even a bit too much.

“You suggested that, I don’t argue with that,” said old Sorel even more slowly, and suddenly with a kind of ingenious perspicacity that can surprise only someone who does not know our Franconteis peasants, he added, staring intently at M. de Renal : - In another place we will find better.

The mayor's face twisted at these words. But he immediately regained control of himself, and, finally, after a very tricky conversation, which took a good two hours and where not a single word was said in vain, the peasant cunning prevailed over the cunning of the rich man, who did not feed on it. All the numerous points by which Julien's new existence was determined were firmly established; his salary was not only increased to four hundred francs a year, but it was to be paid in advance on the first day of each month.

- Okay. I will give him thirty-five francs, said M. de Renal.

“For a round-the-clock count, such a rich and generous man as our master mayor,” the old man obsequiously interposed, “it will not be stingy to give thirty-six francs.

“All right,” said M. de Renal, “but that’s where we’ll end.

The anger that gripped him gave his voice the necessary firmness this time. Sorel realized that he could no longer press. And then Mr. de Renal went on the offensive. He in no way agreed to give these thirty-six francs for the first month to old Sorel, who really wanted to get them for his son. Meanwhile, M. de Renal flashed through the thought that he would have to tell his wife what part he was forced to play in this deal.

“Give me back my hundred francs that I gave you,” he said irritably. “Mr. Durand owes me something. I myself will go with your son and take cloth for his suit.

After this harsh attack, Sorel thought it prudent to scatter in assurances of deference;

it took a good quarter of an hour. In the end, seeing that he couldn’t squeeze anything out anymore, he bowed to the exit. His last bow was accompanied by the words:

- I'll send my son to the castle.

This is how the townspeople under the care of Mr. Mayor called his house when they wanted to please him.

Returning to his sawmill, Sorel, no matter how hard he tried, could not find his son. Full of all sorts of fears and not knowing what would come of it all, Julien left home at night. He decided to hide his books and his Cross of the Legion of Honor in a safe place. He took it all to his friend Fouquet, a young timber merchant who lived high in the mountains that dominated the Verrieres.

As soon as he appeared: “Oh, you damned bummer! His father yelled at him. - Do you have enough conscience before God to pay me at least for feeding, on which I have spent so many years for you? Take your rags and march to the mayor. "

Julien, surprised that he had not been beaten, hastened to leave. But, barely hiding from his father's eyes, he slowed down. He decided that if he had to play a holy man, he should go to church on the way.

Does this word surprise you? But before he came to this terrible word, the soul of the young peasant had to travel a long way.

From early childhood, after he once saw the dragoons from the sixth regiment in long white cloaks, with black-maned helmets on their heads - these dragoons were returning from Italy, and their horses stood at the hitching post in front of the latticed window of his father - Julien raved about military service ... Then, already a teenager, he listened, fading with delight, the stories of the old regimental doctor about the battles on the Lodi bridge, Arkolsk, near Rivoli, and noticed the fiery glances that the old man threw at his cross.

But when Julien was fourteen years old, a church began to be built in Verrière, which for such a small town could be called magnificent. It had four marble columns that astounded Julien; then fame spread about them all over the region, for it was they who sowed mortal enmity between the magistrate and a young priest sent from Besançon and considered a spy of the Jesuit society. The magistrate almost lost his seat because of this, at least everyone said. After all, it occurred to him to start a quarrel with this priest, who every two weeks went to Besançon, where he, they say, had an affair with his Eminence, the bishop.

Meanwhile, the magistrate, a man of many families, issued several sentences that seemed unfair: they were all directed against those of the townspeople who read the Constitujonel. The victory remained with the well-minded. It was, in fact, about a penny sum, something about three or five francs, but one of those who had to pay this small fine was the nail, Julien's godfather. Beside himself with rage, this man raised a terrible cry: “See how it all turned upside down! And just think that for more than twenty years, everyone has considered the magistrate to be an honest man! " And the regimental physician, Julien's friend, had already died by this time.

Suddenly Julien stopped talking about Napoleon: he announced that he was going to become a priest; at the sawmill he was constantly seen with a Latin Bible in his hands, which was given to him by the priest; he learned it by heart. The good old man, amazed at his success, spent whole evenings with him, instructing him in theology. Julien did not allow himself to reveal before him any other feelings than piety. Who would have thought that this young girl's face, so pale and meek, concealed an unshakable determination to endure, if necessary, any torture, just to make its way!

For Julien to break the road meant above all to break out of the Verrier; he hated his homeland.

Everything he saw here froze his imagination.

From early childhood it happened to him more than once that he was suddenly seized with passionate inspiration. He was immersed in rapturous dreams of how he would be introduced to Parisian beauties, how he would be able to attract their attention with some extraordinary act. Why doesn't one of them love him? After all, Bonaparte, when he was still poor, fell in love with the brilliant Madame de Beauharnais!

For many years, it seems, there was not a single hour in Julien's life when he did not repeat to himself that Bonaparte, an unknown and poor lieutenant, became the ruler of the world with the help of his sword. This thought consoled him in his misfortunes, which seemed to him terrible, and doubled his joy when he happened to be happy about something.

The building of the church and the sentences of the magistrate suddenly opened his eyes; one thought came to his mind, with which he had been running like a man possessed for several weeks, and, finally, she took possession of him entirely with that irresistible force that the first thought gains over a fiery soul, which seems to her to be its own discovery.

“When Bonaparte made people talk about himself, France trembled in fear of an alien invasion; military prowess was essential at the time, and it was all the rage. And now a priest at forty receives a salary of one hundred thousand francs, that is, exactly three times more than the most famous generals of Napoleon. They need people to help them in their work. Here, for example, is our magistrate: such a bright head, such an honest old man until now, and out of fear that he might incur the displeasure of a young thirty-year-old vicar, he covers himself with dishonor! You have to become a priest. "

One day, in the midst of this newfound piety, when he had already been studying theology for two years, Julien suddenly betrayed himself with a sudden flash of that fire that was devouring his soul. It happened at Mr. Shelan's; at one dinner, in the circle of priests, to whom the good-natured priest presented him as a true miracle of wisdom, he suddenly began to exalt Napoleon with ardor. To punish himself, he tied his right arm to his chest, pretending to dislocate it by turning a spruce log, and wore it tied in this uncomfortable position for exactly two months. After this punishment, which he invented for himself, he forgave himself. This is what this nineteen-year-old boy was like, so frail in appearance that he could barely be seventeen, who now, with a small bundle under his arm, was entering under the vaults of the magnificent Verier Church.

It was dark and empty. On the occasion of the last holiday, all the windows were covered with dark red cloth, thanks to which the sun's rays acquired some kind of dazzling shade, majestic and at the same time magnificent. Julien was in awe. He was alone in the church. He sat down on the bench, which seemed to him the most beautiful: it bore the coat of arms of M. de Renal.

On the kneeling bench, Julien noticed a piece of printed paper that seemed to have been deliberately placed to be read.

Julien raised it to his eyes and saw:

"Details of the execution and the last minutes of the life of Louis Jeanrelle, who was executed in this Besançon ..."

The paper was torn. On the other side, only the first two words of one line survived, namely: "The first step ..."

- Who put this piece of paper here? - said Julien. - Oh, unfortunate! He added with a sigh. - And his surname ends in the same way as mine ... - And he crumpled a piece of paper.

When Julien went out, it seemed to him that there was blood on the ground near the sprinkler - it was splashed holy water, which the reflection of the red curtains made like blood.

Finally, Julien felt ashamed of his secret fear.

“Am I such a coward? He said to himself. - To arms! "

This call, so often repeated in the stories of the old doctor, seemed heroic to Julien. He turned and walked quickly towards M. de Renal's house.

However, in spite of all his magnificent determination, as soon as he saw this house twenty paces ahead of him, an invincible timidity seized him. The cast-iron lattice gate was open;

she seemed to him the height of splendor. It was necessary to enter it.

But it was not only Julien's heart that sank because he entered this house. Madame de Renal, with her extreme shyness, was completely overwhelmed by the thought that some stranger, by virtue of his duties, would now always stand between her and the children. She is used to the fact that her sons sleep beside her, in her room. In the morning she shed many tears as their little cots were dragged before her eyes into the room intended for the tutor. She begged her husband in vain to allow him to transfer back to her at least only the bed of the youngest, Stanislav-Xavier.

Madame de Renal's characteristic acuteness of feelings in women was extreme. She has already drew herself a disgusting, rude, disheveled subject, who is allowed to yell at her children only because he knows Latin. And for this barbaric language he will still flog her sons.

Vi. Trouble Non so pi cosa son cosa faccio.

Mozart, "Figaro" 4 Madame de Renal, with the liveliness and grace that was so characteristic of her, when she did not fear that someone was looking at her, left the living room through the glass door into the garden, and at that moment her gaze fell on standing at the entrance of a young peasant boy, still a boy, with a very pale and tear-stained face. He wore a clean white shirt and carried a very neat purple ratin jacket under his arm.

This young man's face was so white, and his eyes so gentle, that the slightly romantic imagination of Ms. de Renal first imagined that this might be a young girl in disguise who had come to ask the mayor for something. She felt sorry for the poor thing, who stood at the entrance and, apparently, did not dare to reach out to the bell. Madame de Renal walked towards her, forgetting for a moment the distress which the thought of the tutor caused her.

Julien stood facing the front door and did not see how I don’t understand what was happening to me. Mozart, The Marriage of Figaro (it.).

she came over. He shuddered when he heard a gentle voice close to his ear:

- What do you want, my child?

Julien quickly turned around and, shocked by this sympathetic look, forgot for a moment his embarrassment; he looked at her, amazed at her beauty, and suddenly forgot everything in the world, even forgot why he had come here. Madame de Renal repeated her question.

“I came here because I have to be an educator here, madam,” he finally said, all flushed with shame for his tears and trying to wipe them away imperceptibly.

Madame de Renal could not utter a word in surprise; they stood very close and looked at each other. Julien had never seen such an elegant creature in his life, and it was even more surprising that this woman with a snow-white face spoke to him in such an affectionate voice. Madame de Renal looked at the large tears that rolled down those first terribly pale, and now suddenly bright red cheeks of the peasant boy. And suddenly she burst out laughing uncontrollably and merrily, just like a girl. She rolled with laughter at herself and simply could not recover from happiness. How! So this is what he is, this tutor! And she imagined a dirty slob-priest who would yell at her children and flog them with rods.

"How, sir," she said at last, "do you know Latin?"

This address "sir" surprised Julien so much that he was even taken aback for a minute.

“Yes, madam,” he answered timidly.

Madame de Renal was so delighted that she decided to tell Julien:

- And you will not very much scold my boys?

- I? Scold? - asked Julien, surprised. - And why?

Hearing once again that such an elegant lady was calling him quite seriously "sir" - this truly exceeded all Julien's expectations: no matter what castles in the air he built himself in childhood, he was always sure that no noble lady would deign to talk to him until he wore a luxurious military uniform. And Madame de Renal, for her part, was completely deceived by the delicate complexion, the large black eyes of Julien and his beautiful curls, which this time curled even more than usual, because he dipped his head in the pool of the city fountain. And suddenly, to her indescribable joy, this embodiment of girlish shyness turned out to be that terrible tutor whom she, shuddering for her children, drew herself as a rude monster! For such a serene soul as Ms. de Renal was, such a sudden transition from what she was so afraid of to what she now saw was a whole event. Finally she came to her senses. She was surprised to find that she was standing at the entrance of her house with this young man in a simple shirt, and very close to him.

“Come on, sir,” she said in a somewhat embarrassed tone.

Never before in Madame de Renal's life had it happened to experience such a strong excitement, caused by such an exceptionally pleasant feeling, never before had it happened to her, that excruciating anxiety and fears were suddenly replaced by such a wonderful reality. This means that her pretty boys, whom she so cherished, will not fall into the hands of a dirty, grumpy priest! When she entered the hall, she turned to Julien, who was walking timidly behind. On his face, at the sight of such a luxurious house, there was a deep amazement, and this made him seem even nicer to Madame de Renal. She simply could not believe her eyes, for some reason she always imagined the tutor as nothing but a black suit.

- But is it really true, sir? She said again, stopping and freezing with fear. (But what if it suddenly turns out to be a mistake - and she was so happy believing it!) - Do you really know Latin?

These words touched Julien's pride and brought him out of that sweet oblivion, in which he had been for a whole quarter of an hour.

“Yes, madam,” he replied, trying to look as cold as possible. “I know Latin as well as Monsieur Curé, and sometimes, out of his kindness, he even says that I know better than him.

Madame de Renal now thought that Julien had a very angry face — he was standing a stone's throw from her.

- Really, because you won't whip my children in the first days, even if they don't know the lessons?

The affectionate, almost pleading tone of this beautiful lady had such an effect on Julien that all his intentions to maintain his reputation as a Latinist instantly vanished.

Madame de Renal's face was so close to his very face, he breathed in the scent of a summer dress for a woman, and this was something so extraordinary for a poor peasant that Julien blushed to the roots of his hair and babbled in a barely audible voice:

- Do not be afraid of anything, madam, I will obey you in everything.

And only here, at that moment when all her fear for the children had finally dissipated, Madame de Renal noticed with amazement that Julien was unusually handsome. His delicate, almost feminine features, his embarrassed appearance did not seem ridiculous to this woman, who herself was distinguished by extreme shyness;

on the contrary, a masculine appearance, which is usually considered a necessary quality of male beauty, would only frighten her.

- How old are you, sir? She asked Julien.

- Soon it will be nineteen.

“My eldest is eleven,” Madame de Renal continued, now completely calmed down. - He will almost be your friend, you can always persuade him. Once the father decided to beat him down - the child was then ill for a whole week, and the father only hit him a little.

"And I? - thought Julien. - What's the difference! Yesterday my father beat me off. How happy they are, these rich people! "

Madame de Renal was already trying to guess the slightest shades of what was going on in the soul of the young tutor, and she considered this expression of sadness that flashed on his face for timidity. She wanted to cheer him up.

- What is your name, sir? She asked in such a captivating tone and with such affability that Julien involuntarily became imbued with her charm, without even realizing it.

- My name is Julien Sorel, madam; I am scared because for the first time in my life I enter a strange house; I need your patronage and also that you forgive me a lot at first. I never went to school, I was too poor for that; and I have never spoken to anyone, except for my relative, the regimental physician, the Knight of the Legion of Honor, and our priest, Mister Shelan. He will tell you the whole truth about me.

My brothers beat me forever; do not believe them if they slander me; forgive me if I'm wrong about anything; I cannot have any evil intent.

Julien gradually overcame his embarrassment with this long speech; he was staring at Madame de Renal without looking up. This is the effect of true charm when it is a natural gift, and especially when the creature possessing this gift is unaware of it. Julien, who considered himself a connoisseur of female beauty, was ready to swear now that she was not more than twenty years old. And suddenly a daring thought occurred to him - to kiss her hand. He was immediately frightened by this thought, but in the next instant he said to himself: “It will be cowardice on my part if I do not do what can benefit me and bring down a little contemptuous arrogance with which this beautiful lady must be to the poor artisan who just left the saw. " Perhaps Julien also became brave because he remembered the expression "pretty boy," which he had heard for six months on Sundays from young girls. Meanwhile, while he was struggling with himself like that, Madame de Renal tried to explain to him in a few words how he should behave at first with the children.

The effort to which Julien had forced himself made him look very pale again; he said in an unnatural tone:

- Madam, I will never beat your children, I swear to you before God.

And as he spoke these words, he dared to take Madame de Renal's hand and raised it to his lips. She was very surprised by this gesture, and only then, on reflection, she was indignant. It was very hot, and her bare hand, covered only with a shawl, opened almost to the shoulder when Julien raised it to his lips. After a few seconds, Madame de Renal already began to reproach herself for not being indignant at once.

“I need to talk to you before the children see you,” he said.

He led Julien into the room and restrained his wife, who wanted to leave them alone. Shutting the door, Gentlemen de Renal sat down gravely.

- Monsieur Curé told me that you are a respectable youth. Everyone here will respect you, and if I am pleased with you, I will help you get a decent job in the future. It is advisable that from now on you never see your family or friends again, for their manners are not suitable for my children. Here is thirty-six francs for you in the first month, but you will give me your word that of this money your father will not receive a single sous.

M. de Renal could not forgive the old man for outwitting him in this matter.

- Now, sir, - I have already ordered everyone to call you "sir", and you will see for yourself what an advantage it is to get into the house of decent people - and now, sir, it is inconvenient for the children to see you in a jacket. Did any of the servants see him? Asked M. de Renal, addressing his wife.

“No, my friend,” she answered with an air of deep thought.

- All the better. Put on this, ”he said to the surprised youth, holding out his own coat. - We will now go with you to the clothier, Mr. Durand.

An hour and a half later, M. de Renal returned with a new tutor, dressed in black from head to toe, and saw that his wife was still sitting in the same place. She felt calmer at the sight of Julien; looking at him, she ceased to be afraid of him. And Julien no longer thought of her; Despite all his distrust of life and people, his soul at that moment was, in essence, just like a child's: it seemed to him that years had passed since the minute when, just three hours ago, he sat trembling with fear in the church.

Suddenly he noticed the cold expression on Madame de Renal's face and realized that she was angry that he dared to kiss her hand. But the pride that arose in him because he felt a new and completely unusual costume for him, to such an extent deprived him of all self-control, and at the same time he so wanted to hide his joy that all his movements were almost frenzied, convulsive impetuosity. Madame de Renal followed him with amazed gaze.

“More respectability, sir,” Monsieur de Renal said to him, “if you wish to be respected by my children and servants.

- Sir, - answered Julien, - I am embarrassed by this new clothes: I am a poor peasant and have never worn anything except a jacket. I would like, with your permission, to retire to my room to be alone.

- Well, how do you find this new acquisition? Monsieur de Renal asked his wife.

Obeying some almost involuntary impulse, of which she, of course, did not even realize herself, Madame de Renal hid the truth from her husband.

“I’m not so delighted with this country boy, and I’m afraid that all these courtesies of yours will make him impudent: then not even a month will pass before you will have to drive him out.

- Well, well, we’ll get rid of it. It will cost me a hundred francs, and in Verrières they will get used to the fact that M. de Renal's children have a tutor. And this cannot be achieved by leaving it in a craftsman's jacket. Well, and if we drive it away, of course, that black pair, the cut for which I took from the clothier, will remain with me. I'll only give him this one that was found in the workshop: I immediately dressed him in it.

Julien spent about an hour in his room, but for Madame de Renal the hour flew by like a moment; as soon as the children were informed that they would now have a tutor, they bombarded the mother with questions. Finally Julien appeared. It was a different person: it is not enough to say that he behaved solidly - no, it was solidity itself embodied. He was introduced to the children, and he addressed them in such a tone that even M. de Renal himself was surprised.

“I’m here, gentlemen,” he told them, finishing his speech, “to teach you Latin. You know what it means to answer a lesson. Here is the Holy Scripture. - And he showed them a small volume, 32-th part of a sheet, in black binding. - The life of our Lord Jesus Christ is told here, this holy book is called the New Testament. I will constantly ask you about your lessons on this book, and now you ask me to answer you my lesson.

The eldest of the children, Adolf, took the book.

“Open it at random,” Julien continued, “and tell me the first word of any verse. I will answer you by heart this holy book, which should serve as an example for all of us in life, and I will not stop until you yourself stop me.

Adolf opened the book and read one word, and Julien began to read the whole page without hesitation, and with such ease, as if he spoke his native language. M. de Renal glanced triumphantly at his wife. The children, seeing the surprise of their parents, looked at Julien with wide eyes. A footman came up to the drawing-room door; Julien continued to speak Latin. The footman first stopped rooted to the spot, stood for a minute and disappeared.

Then the maid and the cook appeared at the door;

Adolph had already opened the book in eight places, and Julien recited everything with the same ease.

- Oh, my God! What a handsome priest! How young! - involuntarily exclaimed the cook, a kind and extremely pious girl.

M. de Renal's vanity was somewhat alarmed: not intending to examine his new tutor, he was trying to find in his memory at least a few Latin words; finally, he managed to recall a verse from Horace. But Julien knew nothing in Latin, except his Bible.

And he answered with a frown:

“The sacred title for which I am preparing myself forbids me to read such an impious poet.

Monsieur de Renal quoted many more poems allegedly belonging to Horace, and began to explain to the children who this Horace was, but the boys, gaping with admiration, did not pay the slightest attention to what their father was telling them. They looked at Julien.

Seeing that the servants continued to stand in the doorway, Julien decided that the trial should continue.

- Well, now, - he turned to the youngest, - it is necessary that Stanislav-Xavier also offer me some verse from the Holy Scriptures.

Little Stanislav, beaming with pride, read the first word of a verse with a sin in half, and Julien read the entire page from memory. As if on purpose to let M. de Renal enjoy his triumph, while Julien was reading this page, M. Valaud, owner of excellent Norman horses, entered, followed by M. Charcot de Mojiron, assistant to the prefect of the district. This scene confirmed the title of "sir" for Julien - from now on, even the servants did not dare to challenge his right to do so.

In the evening, the whole Verrier ran to the mayor to see this miracle. Julien answered everyone with a gloomy air that forced the interlocutors to keep their distance. The fame of him spread so quickly throughout the city that not even a few days had passed when M. de Renal, fearing that someone would lure him away, invited him to sign a two-year commitment with him.

“No, sir,” Julien answered coldly. “If you decide to drive me away, I will have to leave.

An obligation that only binds me, but does not oblige you to anything, is an unequal deal. I refuse.

Julien managed to put himself so well that not even a month had passed since he appeared in the house when M. de Renal himself began to treat him with respect. Curé did not maintain any relations with Messrs. De Renal and Valno, and no one could betray Julien's long-standing passion for Napoleon; he himself spoke of him only with disgust.

Vii. Selective Affinity They cannot touch the heart without hurting it.

Modern author Children adored him; he had no love for them; his thoughts were far from them. No matter what the kids did, he never lost patience. Cold, fair, dispassionate, but nevertheless beloved - for his appearance nevertheless somehow dispelled the boredom in the house - he was a good teacher.

He himself felt only hatred and disgust for this upper world, where he was admitted - however, he was admitted only to the very edge of the table, which, perhaps, explained his hatred and disgust.

Sometimes during some dinner party he could hardly contain his hatred of everything that surrounded him. Once on the feast of St. Louis, listening to the rantings of M. Valno at the table, Julien almost betrayed himself: he ran into the garden under the pretext that he needed to look at the children.

“What a praise for honesty! He exclaimed mentally. - You might think that this is the only virtue in the world, but at the same time what servility, what groveling in front of a person who has certainly doubled and tripled his fortune since he disposes of the property of the poor. I am ready to bet that he profits even from the funds that the treasury releases on these unfortunate foundlings, whose poverty must truly be sacred and inviolable. Ah, monsters! Monsters! After all, I myself, yes, I am also like a foundling: everyone hates me - my father, brothers, the whole family. "

Shortly before this feast of St. Louis Julien, repeating prayers for memory, was strolling in a small grove located above the Avenue of Fidelity and called the Belvedere, when suddenly on one remote path I saw my brothers from afar; he could not avoid meeting them. His beautiful black suit, all his extremely decorous appearance and the completely sincere contempt with which he treated them, aroused such malicious hatred from these rude artisans that they pounced on him with fists and beat him so that he was left unconscious. covered in blood. Madame de Renal, walking in the company of M. Valno and the assistant to the prefect, accidentally entered this grove and, seeing Julien prostrate on the ground, decided that he was killed. She was so embarrassed that Mr. Valno's feelings of jealousy stirred.

But this was a premature alarm on his part. Julien considered Madame de Renal a beauty, but hated her for her beauty: after all, it was an obstacle on his way to success, and he almost tripped over it. He avoided talking to her in every possible way, so that the enthusiastic impulse that had pushed him to kiss her hand on the first day would soon be erased from her memory.

Eliza, Madame de Renal's maid, was not slow to fall in love with the young tutor: she constantly talked about him with her mistress. Eliza's love brought on Julien the hatred of one of the footmen.

One day he heard this man reproaching Eliza:

“You don’t want to talk to me anymore since this filthy tutor appeared in our house.” Julien did not deserve such an epithet; but, being a handsome youth, he instinctively redoubled his concern for his appearance. Valno's hatred has also doubled. He loudly declared that such coquetry was not appropriate for the young abbot. Julien, in his long black frock coat, looked like a monk, except that the cassock was missing.

Madame de Renal noticed that Julien often spoke with Eliza, and found out that the reason for this was the extreme scarcity of his wardrobe. He had so little linen that he had to wash it every now and then - for these little favors he turned to Eliza. This extreme poverty, of which she had no idea, touched Mme. De Renal; she wanted to give him a gift, but she did not dare, and this inner discord was the first hard feeling Julien caused her. Until now, Julien's name and a sense of pure spiritual joy merged for her. Tormented by the thought of Julien's poverty, Madame de Renal once told her husband that she should give Julien a gift, buy him linen.

- What nonsense! - he answered. - Why on earth give gifts to a person we are happy with and who serves us well? Now, if we noticed that he shirks from his duties, then we should encourage him to diligence.

Madame de Renal found this view of things humiliating; however, until Julien showed up, she would not even have noticed it. Now, every time, as soon as her gaze fell on the impeccably neat, albeit very unpretentious suit of the young abbot, she involuntarily flashed the thought: "Poor boy, how can he manage it? .."

And gradually, all that was lacking Julien, began to cause her only pity for him and did not at all jar her.

Madame de Renal was one of those provincial women who at first acquaintance could easily seem silly. She had no life experience, and she did not try at all to shine in conversation. Gifted with a subtle and proud soul, in her unaccountable striving for happiness, characteristic of every living being, in most cases she simply did not notice what these rude people with whom fate surrounded her were doing.

Had she had at least some education, she would undoubtedly have stood out both for her natural abilities and liveliness of mind, but as a rich heiress she was brought up by nuns ardently committed to the "Sacred Heart of Jesus" and inspired by seething hatred for all those French people, who were considered enemies of the Jesuits. Madame de Renal had enough common sense to very soon forget all the nonsense that she had been taught in the monastery, but she got nothing in return and so she lived in complete ignorance. The flattery, which she was lavished from a young age as a wealthy heiress, and her undoubted inclination to fiery piety, contributed to the fact that she began to withdraw into herself. She was extraordinarily pliable in appearance and seemed to have completely renounced her will, and the faithful husbands did not miss the opportunity to set this up as an example to their wives, which was the subject of M. de Renal's pride; in fact, her usual state of mind was the result of the deepest arrogance. Some princess, who is remembered as an example of pride, and she showed incomparably more attention to what the courtiers around her did than this meek and modest-looking woman showed to everything that her husband did or said. Before Julien arrived, the only thing she really paid attention to were her children. Their little ailments, their griefs, their tiny joys consumed all the ability to feel in this soul. Throughout her life, Madame de Renal burned with love only for the Lord God, when she was brought up in the monastery of the Heart of Jesus in Besançon.

This kind of joke, especially when it came to the illness of children, made Madame de Renal's heart turn over in her chest. This is what she found in return for the obsequious and honey-flowing flattery of the Jesuit monastery where her youth passed. Grief raised her. Pride did not allow her to confess these griefs even to her best friend, Madame Derville, and she was confident that all men were like her husband, like Mr. Valno and assistant to the Prefect Charcot de Mojiron.

Rudeness and the stupidest indifference to everything that has nothing to do with profit, for ranks or crosses, blind hatred for any judgment they dislike

- all this seemed to her as natural among the representatives of the stronger sex, as the fact that they walk in boots and a felt hat.

But even after so many years, Madame de Renal still could not get used to these moneybags, among whom she had to live.

This was the reason for the success of the young peasant Julien. In sympathy for this noble and proud soul, she knew some kind of living joy, shining with the charm of novelty.

Madame de Renal very soon forgave him both his ignorance of the simplest things, which rather even touched her, and the rudeness of manners, which she was able to smooth out a little. She found that it was worth listening to him, even when he talked about something ordinary, well, at least when he talked about the unfortunate dog, which, crossing the street, fell under a rapidly rolling peasant cart. The sight of such a misfortune would have caused a rough laugh from her husband, but here she saw Julien's thin, black and so beautifully curved eyebrows moving painfully. Little by little it began to seem to her that generosity, spiritual nobility, humanity - all this is inherent in this one young abbot. And all that sympathy and even admiration that awaken in a noble soul by these high virtues, she now nourished only for him.

In Paris, Julien's relationship with Madame de Renal would not have been slow to resolve very simply, but in Paris, love is a child of novels. The young tutor and his timid mistress, after reading three or four novels or listening to songs in the Zhimnaz theater, would not fail to find out their relationship. The novels would teach them what their roles should be, would show them examples to imitate, and sooner or later, perhaps even without any joy, perhaps even reluctantly, but having such an example before him, Julien involuntarily followed to him.

In some small town in Aveyron or in the Pyrenees, any accident could hasten the denouement - such is the effect of a sultry climate. And under our darker skies, the poor youth becomes an ambitious man only because his exalted nature makes him strive for such joys that cost money; he sees from day to day a thirty-year-old woman, genuinely chaste, absorbed in caring for children and not at all inclined to look for patterns for her behavior in novels.

Everything is going on slowly, everything in the province is happening little by little and more naturally.

Often, thinking about the poverty of the young tutor, Madame de Renal was able to move to tears. And then one day Julien found her crying.

- Oh, madam, hasn't any misfortune happened to you?

“No, my friend,” she answered him. - Call the children and let's go for a walk.

She took his arm and leaned on him, which seemed very strange to Julien. This was the first time that she called him "my friend".

Towards the end of the walk, Julien noticed that she was blushing every now and then. She slowed down.

“You must have been told,” she began, without looking at him, “that I am the only heir to my aunt, who is very rich and lives in Besançon. She constantly sends me all kinds of gifts ... And my sons are making such progress ... just amazing. So I wanted to ask you to accept a small gift from me as a token of my gratitude. It's just that, sheer trifles, just a few louis on your linen. Only now ... - she added, blushing even more, and fell silent.

- Just now, madam? Julien asked.

“Don’t,” she whispered, lowering her head. “Don’t tell my husband about this.

“I’m a small man, madam, but I’m not a lackey,” answered Julien, glaring angrily, and, stopping, straightened up to his full height. - You, of course, did not deign to think about it. I would consider myself inferior to any lackey if I allowed myself to hide from M. de Renal anything about my money.

Madame de Renal felt destroyed.

“Monsieur Mayor,” continued Julien, “five times since I have lived here, he has given me thirty-six francs each. Even now I can show my account book to Monsieur de Renal, or to anyone, even Mister Valno, who hates me.

After this rebuke, Madame de Renal walked next to him, pale and agitated, and until the very end of the walk neither one nor the other managed to think of any excuse to resume the conversation.

Now to fall in love with Madame de Renal has become something completely unthinkable for the proud heart of Julien; and she, she was imbued with respect for him; she admired him: how he scolded her! As if trying to make amends for the insult she had involuntarily inflicted on him, she now allowed herself to surround him with the most tender cares. And the novelty of these worries delighted Madame de Renal for a whole week. In the end, she managed to soften Julien's anger somewhat, but it never entered his head to suspect anything like personal sympathy in this.

“This is what they are,” he said to himself, “these rich men:

they will trample you in the mud, and then they think that all this can be smoothed out by some antics. "

Madame de Renal's heart was so full, and so innocent, that, despite all her good decisions not to indulge in frankness, she could not help telling her husband about the offer she made to Julien and how it was. was rejected.

- How! Cried M. de Renal in terrible indignation. - And you admitted that your servant refused you?

Madame de Renal, indignant at this word, tried to object.

- I, madam, - he answered, - I express myself as the late Prince of Condé deigned to express myself, introducing my chamberlains to his young wife. "All these people," he said, "are our servants." I read to you this passage from de Besanval's memoirs, which is very instructive for maintaining prestige. Anyone who is not a noble and lives on your salary is your servant. I will talk to him, this Monsieur Julien, and give him a hundred francs.

- Ah, my friend! - uttered, trembling all over, Madame de Renal. - Well, at least so that the servants did not see.

- Of course! They would become jealous - and not without reason, - said the husband, leaving the room and wondering if the amount he named was too large.

Madame de Renal was so upset that she fell into a chair almost unconscious. "Now he will try to humiliate Julien, and this is my fault." She felt disgusted with her husband and covered her face with her hands. Now she had given herself her word: never to indulge in frankness with him.

When she saw Julien, she trembled all over, her chest felt so tight that she could not utter a word. In confusion, she took both his hands and squeezed them tightly.

“Well, my friend,” she finally said, “are you satisfied with my husband?

- How can I not be satisfied! - answered Julien with a bitter smile. - Still would! He gave me one hundred francs.

Madame de Renal looked at him as if in indecision.

“Come on, give me your hand,” she said suddenly, with a firmness that Julien had never noticed before.

She decided to go with him to the bookstore, in spite of the fact that the Verera bookseller was reputed to be the most terrible liberal. There she chose several books as a gift for the children for ten louis. But these were all books she knew Julien wanted to have. She insisted that right there, behind the counter, each of the children wrote his name on the books that he got. And while Madame de Renal was glad that she had found a way to reward Julien, he looked around, wondering at the many books that stood on the shelves of the bookstore.

Never before had he dared to enter such an unholy place; his heart fluttered. Not only did he not know what was going on in Madame de Renal's soul, but he did not even think about it: he was all absorbed in the thought of how he could come up with some way to get some books here without staining his reputation as a theologian ... Finally it occurred to him that if he took up this Polovcha, it might be possible to convince M. de Renal that for the writing exercises of his sons the most suitable topic would be the biographies of the famous noblemen of this region. After a whole month of efforts, Julien finally succeeded in his undertaking, and so deftly that after a while he decided to make another attempt and once, in a conversation with M. de Renal, hinted to him a certain possibility, which for the noble mayor presented no small difficulty: it was about how to contribute to the enrichment of a liberal - sign up as a subscriber to his bookstore. M. de Renal fully agreed that it would be very useful to give his eldest son a cursory de visu5 of some works that might be discussed when he was at military school; but Julien saw that the Mayor would not go further than this. Julien decided that there was probably something behind this, but what exactly he could not guess.

“I suppose, sir,” he said to him once, “that, of course, it would be extremely obscene if such a good noble name as Renal, clearly, personally (lat.).

ended up on the vile lists of the bookseller.

M. de Renal's brow cleared.

- And for the poor student-theology, - continued Julien in a much more obsequious tone, - it would also be a bad glory if somehow by chance it was revealed that his name appears among the subscribers of a bookseller who sells books at home. Liberals will be able to accuse me of taking the most vile books, and - who knows - they will not hesitate to attribute the names of these vile books under my name.

But then Julien noticed that he had given up. He saw the look of confusion and frustration on the mayor's face again. He fell silent. “Yeah, got caught, now I see right through him,” he concluded to himself.

Several days passed, and then one day, in the presence of M. de Renal, an older boy asked Julien what kind of book it was, about which an advertisement appeared in the Cotidienne.

- In order not to give these Jacobins a reason for scoffing, and at the same time to give me the opportunity to answer Mr. Adolf's question, one could register as a subscriber in a bookstore one of your servants, say, a footman.

“That’s not a bad idea,” said M. de Renal, clearly delighted.

- But, in any case, it will be necessary to take measures, - Julien continued with a serious, almost woeful expression, which is very suitable for some people when they see that the goal for which they have been striving for so long has been achieved - it will be necessary to take measures so that your servant does not under any circumstances take any novels. One has only to start these dangerous books in the house, and they will seduce the maids and the same servant.

- What about political pamphlets? Have you forgotten about them? Added Monsieur de Renal with gravity.

He didn’t want to show his admiration for this skillful maneuver that his children's tutor had invented.

So Julien's life was filled with these little tricks, and their success interested him much more than the undeniable inclination that he could easily read in the heart of Madame de Renal.

The state of mind in which he had been so far now took possession of him again in the house of the mayor. And here, as at his father's sawmill, he deeply despised the people among whom he lived, and felt that they too hated him. Hearing from day to day the conversations of the assistant prefect, Mr. Valno and other friends of the house about certain events that happened in front of their eyes, he saw to what extent their ideas did not resemble reality. Any act that he mentally admired, invariably aroused furious indignation in everyone around him.

He incessantly exclaimed to himself: “What monsters! What fools! " The funny thing was that, while showing such arrogance, he often did not understand at all what they were talking about.

Throughout his life, he did not speak frankly to anyone, except for the old doctor, and all the small stock of knowledge that he had was limited to Bonaparte's Italian campaigns and surgery. The detailed descriptions of the most painful operations captivated Julien's youthful courage;

he said to himself: "I would have endured without frowning."

The first time Madame de Renal tried to strike up a conversation with him that had nothing to do with raising children, he began to tell her about the surgery; she turned pale and asked him to stop.

And apart from that, Julien knew nothing. And although his life passed in constant communication with Madame de Renal, as soon as they were alone, a deep silence reigned between them. In public, in the living room, no matter how humbly he behaved, she could guess the expression of mental superiority that flashed in his eyes over everyone who was in their house.

But as soon as she was alone with him, he was clearly confused. This weighed down on her, for with her feminine instinct she guessed that this confusion did not stem from some tender feelings.

Guided by who knows what ideas about high society, gleaned from the stories of the old doctor, Julien felt an extremely humiliating feeling if, in the presence of a woman, in the middle of a general conversation, there was a sudden pause - as if he was to blame for this awkward silence. But this feeling was a hundred times more painful if silence came when he was alone with a woman.

His imagination, stuffed with the most incomprehensible, truly Spanish ideas about what a man should say when he is alone with a woman, told him absolutely unthinkable things in these moments of confusion. What did he not dare to himself! At the same time, he could not break this humiliating silence. And because of this, his stern appearance during long walks with Madame de Renal and the children became even more stern from the cruel torment he endured. He despised himself terribly. And if, to his misfortune, he managed to force himself to speak, he uttered something completely ridiculous. And the worst thing was that he not only saw the absurdity of his behavior himself, but also exaggerated it. But there was also something else that he could not see - his own eyes; and they were so beautiful, and such a fiery soul was reflected in them that they, like good actors, sometimes gave a wonderful meaning to something in which there was no trace of it. Madame de Renal noticed that alone with her he was able to talk only in those cases when, under the impression of some unexpected incident, he forgot about the need to come up with compliments. Since the friends of the house did not indulge her at all with any brilliant, interesting in their novelty thoughts, she enjoyed and admired these rare flashes in which Julien's mind was revealed.

After the fall of Napoleon, no gallantry is allowed in the provincial customs. Everyone trembles, lest he be removed. Scammers are looking for support in the congregation, and bigotry flourishes with might and main, even in liberal circles. The boredom increases. There is no entertainment left except reading and farming.

Madame de Renal, the wealthy heiress of a God-fearing aunt, married at the age of sixteen to an elderly nobleman, in her entire life had never experienced or seen anything that came close to love. Only her confessor, the kind curé Shelan, spoke to her about love on the occasion of Mr. Valno's courtship and painted her such a disgusting picture that in her mind this word was tantamount to the most heinous debauchery. And the little that she learned from several novels that accidentally fell into her hands seemed to her something completely exceptional and even unprecedented. Thanks to this ignorance, Madame de Renal, completely absorbed in Julien, was in complete bliss, and it did not even occur to her to reproach herself for anything.

VIII. Little Accidents Then there were sighs, the deeper for suppression, And stolen glances, sweeter for theft, And burning blushes, though for no transgression ... "Don Juan", c. I, st. LXXIV6 Madame de Renal's angelic meekness, which flowed from her character, and also from the blissful state in which she was now, cheated on her a little, as soon as she remembered her maid Eliza. This girl received an inheritance, after which, having come to confession to the priest Shelan, she confessed to him her desire to marry Julien. Curé rejoiced from the bottom of his heart at the happiness of his favorite, but what was his surprise when Julien, in the most decisive way, told him that Mademoiselle Eliza's proposal did not suit him in any way.

- Beware, my child, - said the priest, frowning And the sigh is the deeper that he is afraid to breathe, He will catch the eye and sweetly freeze, And the whole will flare up, although there is nothing to be ashamed of ... Byron, "Don Juan", Song I, stanza LXXIV (English) ... Here and below the poems translated by S. Bobrov.

eyebrows - beware of what is happening in your heart; I am ready to rejoice for you if you obey your calling and are ready to despise such a hefty condition only in its name. It has been exactly fifty-six years since I have been serving as a priest in the Verrières, and nevertheless, I will most likely be removed. I regret it, but after all I have eight hundred livres of rent. I then inform you in such details so that you do not deceive yourself with hopes of what might bring you priesthood. If you start to curry favor with people in power, you will inevitably doom yourself to eternal death. Perhaps you will achieve prosperity, but for this you will have to offend the poor, flatter the assistant prefect, the mayor, every influential person and obey their whims; such behavior, that is, what is called “the ability to live” in the world, is not always completely incompatible for the layman with the salvation of the soul, but in our rank one must choose: either to prosper in this world, or in the future life; there is no middle. Go, my friend, think about it, and in three days come and give me the final answer. Sometimes I notice with contrition a certain gloomy ardor hidden in your nature, which, in my opinion, does not speak of abstinence or uncomplaining renunciation of earthly blessings, but these qualities are necessary for a minister of the church. I know that with your mind you will go a long way, but let me tell you frankly, ”added the kind priest with tears in his eyes,“ if you accept the ordination of a priest, I fear with fear whether you will save your soul.

Julien with shame admitted to himself that he was deeply moved: for the first time in his life he felt that someone loved him; he burst into tears with emotion and, so that no one could see him, fled into the thicket, into the mountains above the Verrier.

“What is happening to me? He asked himself. - I feel that I could give my life a hundred times for this kindest old man, but it was he who proved to me that I was a fool. It is him that is most important for me to get around, and he sees right through me. This secret ardor, which he speaks of, because it is my thirst to go out to people. He believes that I am not worthy to become a priest, but I somehow imagined that my voluntary refusal of five hundred louis rent would instill in him the highest idea of \u200b\u200bmy holiness and my vocation. "

“From now on,” Julien suggested to himself, “I will rely only on those traits of my character that I have already experienced in practice. Who could say that I would cry with such delight? That I am capable of loving a person who has proved to me that I am a fool? "

After three days, Julien finally found an excuse to arm himself from day one; this pretext was, in essence, slander, but what does it matter? He confessed to the curé in an uncertain voice that there was one reason - which he could not say, because it would hurt a third person - but it was from the very beginning that she turned him away from this marriage.

Of course, this cast a shadow over Eliza. It seemed to Father Shelan that all this testifies only to a vain fervor, not at all like the sacred fire that should burn in the soul of a young minister of the church.

“My friend,” he said to him, “it would be much better for you to become a kind, prosperous country dweller, family man, respectable and educated, than to go without a call to the priest.

Julien was able to respond very well to these exhortations: he said exactly what was needed, that is, he chose exactly those expressions that would most suit the zealous seminarian; but the tone in which it was uttered, and the fire that sparkled in his eyes, which he could not hide, frightened Shelan's father.

However, one should not draw any unflattering conclusions about Julien from this: he carefully thought out his phrases, filled with very subtle and careful hypocrisy, and for his age he coped with it not so badly. As for the tone and gestures, he lived among ordinary peasants and did not have any worthy examples before his eyes. Later, as soon as he found the opportunity to approach such masters, his gestures became as perfect as his eloquence.

Madame de Renal wondered why her maid, from the time she had received the inheritance, was walking so sadly: she saw that the girl was constantly running to the priest and returning from him crying;

in the end Eliza herself spoke to her about her marriage.

Madame de Renal fell ill: she was thrown now into fever, now into chills, and she completely lost sleep; she was calm only when she saw her maid or Julien next to her. She could not think of anything else but about them, about how happy they would be when they got married. This poor little house, where they will live on their rent of five hundred louis, was painted to her in absolutely delightful colors. Julien, of course, would be able to go to graduate school in Brae, two leagues from Verrieres, in which case she would have the opportunity to see him from time to time.

Madame de Renal began to think in earnest that she was going mad; she told her husband about it and in the end she really fell ill and fell ill. In the evening, when the maid brought her dinner, Madame de Renal noticed that the girl was crying. Eliza annoyed her terribly now, and she shouted at her, but immediately asked her forgiveness. Eliza burst into tears and, sobbing, said that if the mistress allowed, she would tell her her grief.

“Tell us,” Madame de Renal replied.

- Well, now, madam, he refused me; apparently, evil people told him about me, but he believes.

- Who refused you? - said Madame de Renal, hardly catching her breath.

- Who, if not Monsieur Julien? - sobbing, said the maid. - Monsieur Curé tried to persuade him; because Monsieur Curé says that he should not refuse a decent girl just because she serves as a maid. But Monsieur Julien himself has a simple carpenter's father, and he himself, until he entered your office, what did he live on?

Madame de Renal no longer listened: she was so happy that she almost lost her mind. She made Eliza repeat several times that Julien had really refused her, and that this was already final, and there was no need to hope that he could still change his mind and make a more reasonable decision.

“I’ll make one more last try,” Madame de Renal said to the girl, “I’ll talk to Monsieur Julien myself.

The next day, after breakfast, Madame de Renal gave herself untold pleasure, defending the interests of her rival, only in response to this for a whole hour to listen to Julien again and again stubbornly refusing Eliza's hand and condition.

Julien gradually abandoned his discreet evasion, and in the end responded very intelligently to Madame de Renal's prudent admonitions.

The stormy stream of joy that rushed into her soul after so many days of despair broke her strength. She fainted. When she regained consciousness and was put to bed in her room, she asked to be left alone. She was seized with a feeling of the deepest amazement.

"Do I really love Julien?" She finally asked herself.

This discovery, which at another time would have caused her remorse and would have shaken her to the depths of her soul, now seemed to her just something strange, at which she looked indifferently, as if from the outside. Her soul, exhausted by all that she had to endure, now became insensitive and incapable of excitement.

Madame de Renal tried to do handicrafts, but immediately fell asleep in a dead sleep, and when she woke up, all this seemed to her not so terrible as it should have seemed. She felt so happy that she was unable to see anything in a bad light. This sweet provincial woman, sincere and naive, never poisoned her soul in order to make her more acutely feel some unknown shade of feeling or grief. And before Julien appeared in the house, Madame de Renal, completely absorbed in the endless household chores that every good mother of the family inherits outside of Paris, treated love passions in much the same way as we treat the lottery: an obvious swindle, and only a madman can believe that he will be lucky.

They rang for dinner: Madame de Renal flushed at the voice of Julien returning with the children.

She had already learned a little cunning since she fell in love, and to explain her sudden blush, she began to complain that she had a terrible headache.

- Here they are all in the same way, these women, - said M. de Renal with a loud laugh. - They always have something wrong there.

No matter how accustomed Madame de Renal was to such jokes, this time she was jarred. To get rid of the unpleasant feeling, she looked at Julien: if he were the most terrible freak, she would still like him now.

M. de Renal carefully imitated the customs of the court nobility, and as soon as the first days of spring came, he moved to Vergy; it was a village famous for Gabrieli's tragic story. A few steps from the picturesque ruins of an old Gothic church, there is an ancient castle with four towers, owned by M. de Renal, and around the park, laid out like the Tuileries, with many beech borders and rows of chestnuts that are trimmed twice a year. It is adjoined by an area planted with apple trees, a favorite place for walking. At the end of this grove of fruit, there are eight or ten magnificent walnut trees, their enormous foliage extending nearly eighty feet in height.

“Each of these accursed nuts,” Monsieur de Renal grumbled as his wife admired them, “takes half a piece of my harvest from me: wheat does not ripen in their shade.

Madame de Renal seemed to feel the charm of nature for the first time: she admired everything, not remembering herself with delight. The feeling that inspired her made her adventurous and determined. Two days after their move to Vergy, as soon as M. de Renal, called upon by his duties as mayor, had gone back to town, Madame de Renal hired workers at her own expense. Julien suggested to her to build a narrow path, which would wind around the orchard up to huge nuts and would be sprinkled with sand. Then children will walk here from early morning, without risking getting their feet wet in the dewy grass. In less than a day, this idea was carried out.

Madame de Renal spent the whole day with Julien, leading the workers.

When the Mayor of Verier returned from the city, he was extremely surprised to see the already completed path. Madame de Renal, for her part, was also surprised at his arrival: she had completely forgotten about his existence. For two whole months, he spoke with indignation about her arbitrariness: how could it be possible, without consulting him, to decide on such a major innovation? And only the fact that Madame de Renal took this expense on herself, somewhat consoled him.

She spent whole days with the children in the garden, chasing butterflies with them. They made themselves large caps of light gas, with which they caught the poor Lepidoptera. This gibberish name was taught to Madame de Renal by Julien, for she had copied Godard's excellent book from Besançon, and Julien told her about the extraordinary manners of these insects.

They were mercilessly pinned to a large cardboard frame, also fitted by Julien.

Finally, Madame de Renal and Julien found a topic for conversation, and he no longer had to endure the ineffable torment that he experienced in moments of silence.

They talked endlessly and with the greatest enthusiasm, although always about objects of the most innocent. This hectic life, constantly filled with something and cheerful, was to everyone's taste, except for the maid Eliza, who had to work tirelessly. “Never, not even during the carnival, when we have a ball at the Verrière,” she said, “my lady was so busy with her outfits; she changes her dresses two or even three times a day.

Since it is not our intention to flatter anyone, we will not deny that Madame de Renal, who had amazing skin, now began to sew dresses for herself with short sleeves and a rather deep neckline. She was very well built, and such outfits were perfect for her.

“You’ve never looked so young,” her friends who sometimes came from Verrieres to dine at Vergy said to her. (This is how they are kindly expressed in our area.) It's a strange thing - very few people here would believe it - but Madame de Renal really indulged in the care of her toilet without any intention. It pleased her; and without any second thought, as soon as she had a free hour when she was not hunting for butterflies with Julien and the children, she sat down at the needle and with the help of Eliza made herself dresses. When she was going to go to Verriere for the only time, it was also prompted by the desire to buy new fabric for summer dresses, just received from Mulhouse.

She brought her young relative with her to Vergy. After her marriage, Madame de Renal imperceptibly became close to Madame Derville, with whom she had once studied at the Convent of the Heart of Jesus.

Madame Derville always made fun of all sorts of, as she said, "extravagant inventions" of her cousin. “It would never have occurred to me myself,” she said. Madame de Renal considered these sudden inventions, which in Paris would have called wit, considered nonsense and was embarrassed to express them in front of her husband, but the presence of Madame Derville encouraged her. At first she very timidly said out loud what came to her mind, but when her friends were alone for a long time, Madame de Renal became animated: the long morning hours that they spent together flew by like an instant, and both were very cheerful. On this visit to the judicious Madame Derville, her cousin seemed less cheerful, but much happier.

Julien, on the other hand, since he came to the village, felt just like a child and chased butterflies with the same pleasure as his pets. After every now and then he had to restrain himself and conduct the most intricate policy, he now, finding himself in this solitude, feeling no eyes on himself and instinctively not experiencing any fear of Madame de Renal, gave himself up to the joy of life, which is so vividly felt at this age, and even among the most wonderful mountains in the world.

Madame Derville from the very first day seemed to Julien a friend, and he immediately rushed to show her what a beautiful view opens from the last bend of the new path under the walnut trees.

To tell the truth, this panorama is no worse, and maybe even better, than the most picturesque landscapes that Switzerland and Italian lakes can boast of. If you climb the steep slope, which begins two steps from this place, deep abysses will soon open in front of you, along the slopes of which oak forests stretch almost to the river itself. And here, on the tops of these sheer cliffs, cheerful, free - and even, perhaps, in a sense, the master of the house - Julien brought both friends and enjoyed their delight in front of this majestic sight.

“For me, it's like Mozart's music,” Ms. Derville said.

All the beauty of the mountainous surroundings of the Verrières was completely poisoned for Julien by the envy of the brothers and the presence of an eternally dissatisfied despot father. Nothing in Vergy raised these bitter memories for him; for the first time in his life he saw no enemies around him. When M. de Renal left for the city - and this happened often - Julien allowed himself to read, and soon, instead of reading at night, and even hiding the lamp under an overturned flower pot, he could sleep peacefully at night, and during the day, in between classes with children, he climbed these cliffs with a book, which was for him the only teacher of life and the constant subject of delight. And here, in moments of despondency, he immediately found joy, inspiration, and consolation.

Some of Napoleon's sayings about women, some speculations about the merits of this or that novel that was in vogue during his reign, now for the first time led Julien to thoughts that would have appeared in any other young man much earlier.

Hot days came. They have a custom of sitting in the evenings under a huge linden tree a few steps from their home. It was always very dark there. Once Julien told something with enthusiasm, from the bottom of his heart enjoying the fact that he speaks so well, and young women listen to him. Waving his arms briskly, he inadvertently brushed Madame de Renal's arm, with which she leaned on the back of a painted wooden chair, which is usually placed in gardens.

She instantly pulled her hand away; and then it occurred to Julien that he must ensure that henceforth this handle would not be pulled back when he touched it. This consciousness of the duty that he had to accomplish, and the fear of appearing ridiculous, or, rather, of feeling humiliated, instantly poisoned all his joy.

IX. An evening at Guerin's "Dido" estate - a lovely sketch!

Strombeck When Julien saw Madame de Renal the next morning, he gave her a very strange look several times: he watched her, as if at an enemy with whom he had a fight. Such a striking change in the expression of these views, which has taken place since yesterday, has led Madame de Renal into great confusion: after all, she is so affectionate to him, and he seems to be angry. She couldn't take her eyes off him.

Madame Derville's presence allowed Julien to speak less and concentrate almost entirely on what was in his mind. All this day, he did nothing but try to strengthen himself by reading the book that inspired him, which tempered his spirit.

He finished his studies with the children much earlier than usual, and when, after that, the presence of Madame de Renal made him again completely immerse himself in reflections on duty and honor, he decided that he must at all costs achieve this tonight. to keep her hand in his.

The sun was setting, the decisive moment approached, and Julien's heart was pounding frantically in his chest. Evening came. He noticed - and it was as if the burden had dropped from his soul - that the night promises to be completely dark today. The sky, covered with low running clouds, which was driven by a sultry wind, apparently foreshadowed a thunderstorm. The girlfriends went out late. In everything they did that evening, Julien fancied something special. They enjoyed this sultry weather, which for some sensitive natures seems to enhance the sweetness of love.

Finally they all sat down - Madame de Renal next to Julien, Madame Derville next to her friend. Absorbed in what he had to accomplish, Julien could talk about nothing. The conversation did not go well.

"Is it possible that when I go out for the first time, I will tremble like this and feel the same pathetic?" - Julien said to himself, for, due to his excessive suspicion of himself and of others, he could not help but realize what state he was in now.

He would have preferred any danger to this agonizing yearning. He had repeatedly prayed to fate that Madame de Renal would be called into the house for some business and she would have to leave the garden. The effort to which Julien forced himself was so great that even his voice changed noticeably, and after that Madame de Renal's voice began to tremble at once; but Julien did not even notice it. The fierce struggle between duty and indecision kept him so tense that he was unable to see anything that was happening outside of himself. The tower clock struck three-quarters of ten, and he still hadn't made up his mind. Outraged by his own cowardice, Julien said to himself: "As soon as the clock strikes ten, I will do what I promised myself to do all day in the evening — otherwise I go to my room and a bullet in the forehead."

And then the last moment of expectation and agonizing fear passed, when Julien could no longer remember himself from excitement, and the tower clock high above his head struck ten. Each blow of that fatal bell echoed in his chest and seemed to make her shudder.

Finally, when the last, tenth blow struck and was still humming in the air, he reached out and took Madame de Renal by the hand, and she immediately drew it back. Julien, poorly aware of what he was doing, grabbed her hand again. No matter how excited he was, he was nevertheless involuntarily amazed - so cold was this frozen hand; he squeezed her convulsively in his; another, last effort to break free - and finally her hand fell silent in his.

His soul was drowning in bliss - not because he was in love with Madame de Renal, but because this monstrous torture was finally over. In order for Madame Derville not to notice anything, he considered it necessary to speak, - his voice sounded loud and confident. Madame de Renal's voice, on the other hand, was so interrupted with excitement that her friend decided that she was not well and suggested that she return home. Julien sensed the danger: “If Madame de Renal goes into the living room now, I will again find myself in the same intolerable position that I have been in all day today. I still held her hand in mine so little that it cannot be considered a right won by me, which will be recognized for me once and for all.

Madame Derville once again offered to go home, and at that very moment Julien firmly squeezed in his hand the hand that was obediently given to him.

Madame de Renal, who was already quite up, sat down again and said in a barely audible voice:

- True, I am a little unwell, but, perhaps, I feel better in the fresh air.

These words delighted Julien so much that he felt himself in seventh heaven with happiness: he began to chatter, forgot about all pretense, and it seemed to both friends who listened to him that there was no sweeter and nicer person in the world. However, in all this eloquence, which came over him so suddenly, there was a certain amount of cowardice. He was terribly afraid that Madame Derville, who was annoyed by the strong wind, apparently foreshadowing a thunderstorm, would decide to go home alone. Then he would have to remain face to face with Madame de Renal. He somehow unintentionally had the blind courage to do what he had done, but now to say even one word to Madame de Renal was beyond his strength. No matter how gently she rebuked him, he will feel defeated, and the victory he just won will turn into nothing.

Fortunately for him, that evening his excited and upbeat speeches earned the recognition even of Madame Derville, who often said that he behaved absurdly, like a child, and did not find anything interesting in him. As for Madame de Renal, whose hand rested in Julien's hand, she was not thinking about anything now, she was living as if in oblivion. These hours, which they spent here, under this huge linden tree, planted, as the rumor claimed, by Karl the Bold, remained for her forever the happiest time of her life. She heard with delight how the wind sighs in the thick linden foliage, how the rare drops of the beginning rain knock, falling on the lower leaves.

Julien ignored one circumstance that would have greatly pleased him:

madame de Renal stood up for a moment to help her cousin pick up the flower vase that the wind had knocked over at their feet, and inevitably took his hand from him, but as soon as she sat down again, she almost voluntarily allowed him to take possession of her hand, as if it had already become their custom.

Frequency 4. Issues of etiopathogenesis 5. Classification 6. Clinical presentation 7. Modern principles of treatment These recommendations consider the disorders of glucose metabolism arising in neon ... "

“Social control of alcoholization I. Gurvich The fight against drunkenness, as indicated by IN Pyatnitskaya (1988), has a long history. "Sumer and Assyria. Egypt, Ancient China, Ancient Greece and Republican Rome - everywhere we see the moral condemnation of evil ..."

"34 99.04.003. V. S. Konovalov COOPERATION. PAGES OF HISTORY. In connection with the formation at present in Russia of a layer of rural entrepreneurs-owners, the creation of farms and the reorganization of collective and state farms, the need for their active inclusion in the market economy, the question of the development of peasants has become more urgent than ever ... "

«Contents Foreword Section 1. Plenary reports EE Itsikson, T. A. Moshina Karelia in the works of architects V. I. and T. V. Antokhin (architecture, design, graphics, painting) L. Mikhailova. On the origin of the regional Russian vocabulary K ... "

"Class hour

Moscow State University

them. M.V. Lomonosov

Faculty of Journalism

Department of Foreign Literature and Journalism

Abstract on the history of foreign literature

"Stages in the development of the character of Julien Sorel"

Lecturer L. G. Mikhailova

Moscow - 2005

Chronicle of the XIX century - reads the subtitle to "Red and Black". Having brought Julien Sorel, the son of a carpenter - yesterday's peasant, into hostile contact with life once
already swept away and again contrived to prolong its days of monarchical
France, Stendhal created a book, the tragedy of which is the tragedy of the most post-revolutionary history. Already the title of the novel emphasizes the main features in the character of Julien Sorel - the main character of the work. Surrounded by people who are hostile to him, he challenges fate. Defending the rights of his personality, he is forced to mobilize all means to fight the world around him.

Julien Sorel comes from a peasant environment. The son of a peasant with a sawmill had to work at
her, like his father, brothers. In its social
Julien's position - a worker (but not hired); he is a stranger in the world of the rich, well-mannered, educated. But
and in his family, this talented plebeian with "amazing
a peculiar face "- like an ugly duckling: father and
brothers hate the "puny", useless, dreamy, impetuous, incomprehensible young man. At nineteen, he looks like a frightened boy.
And in it there is tremendous energy - power
clear mind, proud character, unbending will, “un-
passionate sensitivity ". His soul and imagination-
fiery, in his eyes - flame.

Julien Sorel is fierce class
consciousness. At the castle of M. de Renal in Verrieres, as
in the salon of M. de la Mole in Paris, this is a plebeian,
who is always on the alert who feels
humiliated by some smile, wounded
some word. Julien knows for sure: he lives in the camp of enemies. Therefore, he is embittered, secretive and always alert. No one knows how much he hates the arrogant rich: he has to pretend. No one knows what he enthusiastically dreams of, rereading his favorite books - Rousseau and "Memorial of St. Helena Island" Las Kaza. His hero, deity, teacher is Napoleon, a lieutenant who became an emperor. His element is heroic deeds. And yet, like a lion cub among wolves, lonely, he believes in himself - and nothing else. Julien is one against all. And in his imagination, he defeats enemies like Napoleon.

Sorel has his own, independent of the mainstream
moral code of commandments, and only to them he obeys strictly.
This code is not devoid of the imprint of the requests of an ambitious plebeian, but it forbids building one's happiness on the troubles of one's neighbor. He prescribes a clear
thought, not blinded by prejudices and awe before the ranks, most importantly, courage, energy, dislike for any mental flabbiness,
both in others and especially in oneself. And let Julien be forced to fight on invisible indoor barricades, let him go
to attack not with a sword in hand, but with quirky speeches on the lips,
let his exploits of a spy in the camp of the enemy to no one but him
themselves, are not needed - for Stendhal this is heroism, distorted and
devoted to the service of purely personal success, yet remotely
akin to those patriotic virtues that were once inherent in the Sansculottes-Jacobins and the soldiers of the Napoleonic army. In the riot of the walls
Dalevian descendant from the bottom is a lot of superficial, but here one cannot but
to distinguish a healthy attempt to throw off social and
moral shackles that doom the commoner to vegetation. And Co-
rel is not in the least mistaken when, drawing a line under his life
in his closing remarks at the trial, regards his death sentence
as revenge of the owners defending their incomes who punish
in his person are rebels from the people, rebelling against their inheritance.

Julien stands out in Verrier: his extraordinary
everyone's memory is amazing. Therefore, he needs the rich de Re-
I pour as another joy of vanity, for Verrier - not
small, though smaller than the walls around the mayor's gardens. Unexpectedly for himself, the young man settles in the house of the enemy: he is the tutor in the de Renal family.

Woe to him who is careless in the camp of enemies! Show no kindness, be vigilant, careful and
ruthless, - orders himself a student of Napoleon.
In his inner monologues, he tries again and again
to penetrate the secret, true thoughts of everyone with whom
life confronts him, and constantly criticizes himself, developing a line of his behavior - the most correct
tactics. He wants to be always aspiring to his
targets - like a naked blade. He will win
if he sees right through opponents, and they never
will not solve it. Therefore, you should not trust any
man and fear love that dulls mistrust. Julien's main tactical weapon should be pretense. Sorel, a commoner, a plebeian, wants to take a place in a society to which he is not entitled by his origin. And it is precisely pretense, hypocrisy that can help to satisfy his ambition. But Julien Sorel's struggle is not only for a career, for personal well-being; the question in the novel is posed much deeper. Julien wants to establish himself in society, "go out into the people", take one of the first places in it, but on condition that this society recognizes in him a full-fledged personality, an outstanding, talented, gifted, intelligent, strong person. He does not want to give up these qualities, to give them up. But an agreement between Sorel and the world of Renals and La Mole is possible only on the condition of the young man's full adaptation to their tastes. This is the main point of Julien Sorel's struggle with the outside world. Julien is doubly a stranger in this environment: both as a native of the social lower classes, and as a highly gifted person who does not want to remain in the world of mediocrity.

Naturally, the second, rebellious side of Sorel's nature did not
can live peacefully with his intention to make a career as a saint. He
is able to force himself to a lot, but to commit this violence to the end,
above himself he is not given. For him, the seven-
Narrative exercises in ascetic piety. He has to exert himself with the last of his strength so as not to betray his contempt for aristocratic nonentities. He rapes himself mercilessly: it is not easy to become
Jesuit tartuffe. Stendhal counted the chapters on seminary
satirical picture that gives the impression of
most effective research, - the most successful in ro-
manet. This high score is probably not due to
only by the power of satire, but also by the fact that the writer is surprisingly plastic and accurately portrayed Julien's life
in seminary as a battle in which a young man wins
yourself. Such efforts are only capable of an extraordinary
new person, says the author of the novel. Iron
Julien's will suppresses his frantic pride,
freezes his ardent spirit. To make a career
he will be the most impersonal of the seminarians, impassive
nym and soulless, like an automaton. A young man capable of
exploits, decides to commit moral suicide. Julien's battle with himself is the most important hundred
ron novel. “In this creature, almost daily
there was a storm, ”Stendhal notes, and the whole spiritual history is ambitious.
young man is woven from the ebb and flow of violent passions, which
rye crash against the dam of an inexorable "must" dictated by reason and
caution. In this duality, in the ultimate inability to give
harbor pride, innate honesty and there is a reason
that the fall, which at first seems to Sorel himself,
shenie, not destined to come true to the end.

Stendhal created the most poetic images of women of pure and strong spirit in French realistic literature. It is in relations with them that the development of the character of Julien Sorel is most clearly manifested. His connection with the high-ranking wife of M. de Renal
at first he starts on the model of the vain bookish Don Juan.
To become the mayor's wife's beloved is a matter of "honor" for him. But also
the first night meeting brings him only a flattering consciousness of overcome
difficulty. And only later, forgetting about the joys of pride,
mask of the seducer and plunging into the stream of tenderness, purified from
any scale, Julien knows real happiness. But this is dangerous: having discarded the mask, he is unarmed!

The same is repeated in the salon of the Marquis de La.
Praying, with only one difference: this time Julien
is located in the heart of the enemy camp.
Now it is no longer about the wife of the provincial
nobleman, but about the daughter of a great nobleman,
the Parisian ultra, close to the government
circles. And proud Matilda is the embodiment
this environment.

Therefore, the fight is much more fierce, for
here the rate is higher, and Julien's suffering from the
the lex of inferiority is sharper. Having received the letter,
in which Matilda confesses his love for him, he
drunk with joy: "He experienced a sweet moment;
he walked aimlessly, mad with happiness. "
But he is happy mainly because
in spite of the disadvantage in which
he is set by his social affiliation,
he managed to prove his strength by winning
over the "enemy". "So," he burst out,
because his experiences were too strong and he
was not able to contain them, - I, poor cross-
Janine, received a declaration of love from a noble
ladies! "The same thought occurs to him,
when he realizes that he has taken over Matilda's heart
over his brilliant rival the marquis
de Croisenois. And again in a few days there are many calculations
ambitious are pushed into the shadows by sizzling passion. He is a tormentor
but is experiencing a cooling of Matilda. Feigned courtship
the pious widow of Marshal de Fervac, it would seem, without labor
and pave the way for him to the bishop's mantle. And at this moment
it becomes clear that the long-awaited career success, crowning all intrigues, does not have a special price for him, that he does not have such an indefatigable thirst to rule and win respect, that his greatest consolation is in the love of Matilda.

Julien is a hypocrite and ambitious, qualities that cannot
Neither Stendhal nor his reader can sympathize. Does it mean that,
that Julien is a negative character and that Stendhal created
your hero in order to expose him? Some read
bodies understood the novel, and the author had to defend his
hero: “Julien is not at all as cunning as he seems to you
well, he wrote to his friends .- Some stop
acquaintance with me on the grounds that Julien is a scoundrel,
and that this is my portrait. During the time of the emperor, Julien was
would be quite a decent person; I lived in the days of the em-
Torah. Does that mean? "

This means that Julien's behavior and tactics are guilty
government. Hence, hypocrisy, as well as ambition, prompts
This is a vital necessity for Julien.

However, the task of the novel is not only to
show ambition and hypocrisy as the only possible
way to achieve the goal. Julien does not achieve his goal.
And, most importantly, at the end of his life he is no longer guided by any honest
love, not hypocrisy. Getting to know people better, seeing no-
the soreness of his environment, he doubted the value of
what he had striven for before. Is it worth seeking respect
people who are not worthy of respect? Can I get
satisfaction from the fact that some Valno bows
you lower than the other? After all, it is known that Valno bows
only success and high position in the world, and his respect
can only be offensive. For such people - and their
the majority in bourgeois society is its own carriage
makes more impression than a person's virtue,
who is forced to walk the streets. Blinded
his vanity, offended by everyone around him,
suspicious, Julien sees his happiness not in what
it could be. He doesn't enjoy it
scrambled eggs with bacon, which delights his fellow
seminarians, future priests. Everything that he aspired to in his early youth, which for a long time was his dream, no longer attracts Julien. The story of this insight is the main theme of the novel.

An episode in prison is very important in the development of Julien's character. Until then, the only incentive that guided all his actions, limiting his good motives, was ambition. But in prison he becomes convinced that ambition has led him in the wrong way. In prison there is also a reassessment of Julien's feelings for Madame de Renal and for Matilda.

These two images, as it were, signify the struggle of two principles in the soul of Julien himself. And there are two creatures in Julien: he is proud, ambitious and at the same time - a man with a simple heart, almost a childish, spontaneous soul. As he overcame ambition and pride, he moved away from the equally proud and ambitious Matilda. And the frank Madame de Renal, whose love was deeper, became especially close to him.

Overcoming ambition and the victory of real feelings in Julien's soul lead him to death.

"Red and black" - the drama of a lonely riot
doomed to defeat precisely because it
loner riot. If Julien, out of disgust for
the baseness of his lot is trying to change his
class position, the very nature of his
love (primarily to maintain self-respect)
is such that, even if it is satisfied - and before
it was already very close - it could not
would be content with personal success, for this
would not change absolutely nothing in inhuman
eternal comedy.
But while Julien can only lose his case - and in this he truly represents his vlass, the mouthpiece of which is at the trial, he carries, albeit vaguely, huge demands of the new society if his rebellion is a rebellion of a loner, it is not so much the result of metaphysical fate, how much the seal of the historical conditions of his time.

Literature:

1. History of foreign literature of the XIX century. Ed. A.S.Dmitrieva, Moscow: Izd-vo Mosk. un-that, 1983

Reizov B.G. Stendal (to the 175th anniversary of his birth), Moscow: Knowledge, 1957.

Rene Andrie. Stendhal or Masquerade Ball, M .: Progress, 1985. Pp. 69 - 70.

Stendhal gave a brilliant confirmation of the correctness of his aesthetic program in the novel Red and Black, on which he worked in 1829-1830. The novel appeared in November 1830 and bore the subtitle "Chronicle of the XIX century". This subtitle already testifies to the fact that Stendhal attached the broadest, epochal meaning to the fate of his hero.

Meanwhile, this fate - due to its uniqueness, extraordinary - at a superficial glance may seem private, isolated. This understanding seems to be facilitated by the fact that Stendhal borrowed the plot of the novel from the court chronicle. In 1827, in his hometown of Grenoble, public opinion was stirred up by the trial of a certain Antoine Berthe, a young man who was a home teacher in the family of a nobleman. He fell in love with the mother of his pupils and, in a fit of jealousy, tried to shoot her. In early 1828 Berthe was executed. This story, in many ways, formed the basis of Standal's novel.

So, as if an exceptional case, a newspaper sensation, almost material for a detective or tabloid novel. However, Stendhal's very appeal to that source was far from accidental. It turns out that he had long been interested in the "judicial newspaper" because it seemed to him one of the most important documents of his era. In private tragedies like Berthe's tragedy, Stendhal saw a tendency essential for society.

Stendhal was one of the first to grope one of the most painful nerves of his century, his social system based on the suppression of the individual and therefore naturally generating crime. It turns out not that a person has crossed the line, but what line he has broken, what law he has broken. From this point of view, the novel "Red and Black" in the sharpest form demonstrates the opposition between the natural right of the individual and the framework that the law provides for the realization of these rights.

Stendhal sharpens this problem to the limit by taking as a hero an outstanding personality of plebeian origin. His Julien Sorel is the son of a carpenter, but at the same time, a man obsessed with ambitious aspirations. His ambition, if not alien to vanity, is completely alien to greed. First of all, he wants to take his rightful place in the social system. He is well aware that not only is not worse than others, successful, but also smarter, more serious than them. Julien Sorel is ready to use his energy, his forces for the good of society, and not only for his own personal good. But at the same time he knows very well that his plebeian origin hangs on his dreams with a heavy burden.

It is very important to understand this socio-psychological basis of Julien's behavior. If he is trying for a very long time to adapt to the official morality, then this is not just an elementary calculation of hypocrisy; yes, he quickly understood how he needed to behave, but in all his feats of hypocrisy, there is always bitterness because fate left him no other path, a plebeian, and the belief that this is only a necessary temporary tactic, and even proud pride: here he is, a plebeian, so easily and quickly, no worse than others, he mastered the laws of light, the rules of the game. Successes in hypocrisy hurt his soul, his sensitive, sincere nature, but also amuse his plebeian pride! For him, the main thing is not to break through to the top, but to prove that he can break through if he wants to. This is a very important nuance. Julien does not become a wolf among wolves: it is no coincidence that Stendhal never puts his hero in such a situation that he "gnaws at others" - as, for example, Balzac's Lucien about "Lost Illusions" is ready to do it. Julien Sorel, unlike him, does not play the role of a traitor anywhere, nowhere goes over corpses, over the fates of other people. the critical moment always triumphs over reason, the heart over the cold logic of opportunism.

It is no coincidence that Stendhal pays so much attention to Julien's love affairs; they are like a litmus of his true human value. After all, at first he calculatedly falls in love with both Madame de Renal and Matilda - seemingly by the very logic to which Balzac's heroes always remain faithful. The love of a secular woman for them is the surest path to success. For Julien, of course, the main thing here is the self-affirmation of the plebeian, but outwardly he is also inclined to view love affairs as steps to achieving his goals.

I would call the image of Julien Sorel a triumph of Standal's psychology and democracy at the same time. All of Julien's psychology, as we have seen, is marked by a consciousness of plebeian pride, a constantly infringed sense of his own human dignity. This restless soul, this proud man perishes because he strives for happiness, and society offers him to achieve his goal only such means that are deeply repugnant to him; disgusting because he "is not a wolf by his blood." And Stendhal clearly associates this inner honesty with his plebeianism. The idea that in the bourgeois age true passion and true greatness of the soul are possible only among commoners is Stendhal's favorite, cherished thought. It is here that Standal's theme of passion takes on a distinctly democratic character.

It is no coincidence, of course, that on the pages of the novel in connection with the image of Julien, various people often associate with the leaders of the French Revolution - Danton and Robespierre. The image of Julien Sorel is all fanned by this atmospheric breath of revolution, rebellion - namely, plebeian rebellion.

Outwardly, this conclusion as applied to Julien may seem a stretch, because outwardly his path throughout the novel is like the path of a hypocritical ambitious and careerist (malevolent critics even called Stendhal's book "a textbook of hypocrisy"). Climbing from step to step on the social ladder of the era of the Restoration, from the humble position of a home teacher in a provincial provincial town to the position of secretary of the all-powerful Marquis de la Molle in Paris. Julien is a hypocrite everywhere. True, we have already found out that such behavior is imposed on him by society itself. Already in Verrieres - at the first stage of his biography - Julien understands what is required of him. The slightest suspicion of liberalism, of freethinking can instantly deprive a person of his social position: and please, Sorel declares La Fontaine's fables immoral; worshiping Napoleon in his soul, he scolds him in public, because in the era of the Restoration this is the surest path. No less successful he is a hypocrite in Paris, in the scrap of the Marquis de la Mol. In the image of the clever demagogue de la Mole, critics see features of similarity with Talleyrand - one of the most cunning politicians in France of that time, a man who managed to remain in government posts under all the numerous French political regimes of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Talleyrand elevated hypocrisy to the level of public policy and left France with brilliant, French-honed formulas for this hypocrisy.

So, in Julien's story, two layers, two dimensions must be distinguished. On the surface in front of us is the story of a man adapting, hypocritical, careerist, not always making his way upward by impeccable ways - one might say, the classic role of French realistic literature of the 19th century, and Balzac's novels in particular. At this level, in this dimension, Julien Sorel is a variant of Eugène Rastignac, Lucien Chardon, later Maupassant's "dear friend". But in the depths of the plot in Julien's story, different laws operate - there is a parallel line, there unfold the adventures of the soul, which is structured “in Italian”, that is, it is not driven by calculation, not hypocrisy, but by passion and those very “first motives”, which, according to Talleyrand, should be feared, because they are always noble. ”Against this primordial nobility, I repeat, everything that seems to be impeccably built and calculated strategic dispositions of Julien is shattered.

At first, these two lines are not even perceived by us, we do not even suspect about their presence and about their secret work, secret interaction. We perceive the image of Julien Sorel in strict accordance with the model: he crushes in himself all the best impulses for the sake of a career. But in the development of the plot there comes a moment when we stop in confusion. The logic of the "model" gives a sharp breakdown. This is the scene when Julien shoots Madame de Renal for her “denunciation.” Up to this point, according to the plot, Sorel has risen to another very important step: he is already in Paris, he is the secretary of the influential Marquis de la Mola and he falls in love with his daughter ( or rather, makes her fall in love with herself.) Madame de Renal, his former love, remained somewhere there, in the Verrière, she is already forgotten, she has already passed the stage.But Madame de Renal, having learned about Julien's impending marriage to Matilda de la Mol, writes a "denunciation" to Matilda's father to warn her father against this "dangerous" person, whom she herself has become a victim of. Learning about this, Julien, without saying anything to anyone, goes to Verrière, arrives there on Sunday, enters church and shoots Madame de Renal, who, of course, is immediately arrested as a murderer.

All this external "detective" outline is described clearly, dynamically, without any emotion - Stendhal communicates only "bare facts" without explaining anything. He, so meticulous in motivating the actions of his hero, left a gaping gap in the motivation for his crime. And this is exactly what amazes readers - and not only readers, but also critics. The scene of Julien's assassination on Madame de Renal gave rise to a lot of interpretations - because it did not fit into the "model", into logic.

What's going on here? From the most superficial, factual point of view, Julien Sorel takes revenge on the woman who ruined his career with her denunciation, that is, about the seemingly act of a careerist. But the question immediately arises: what kind of careerist is this if it is clear to everyone that he is finally ruining himself here - not only his career, but life in general! This means that even if we have a careerist in front of us, then he is very imprudent, impulsive. And to be more precise, at this moment Julien actually already makes a choice, preferring death, sure suicide to a career, its further humiliations. This means that the element of those very inner motives that Julien had previously suppressed in himself finally burst into the external picture of the role, into the role of a careerist. The inner dimension, the latent, parallel line, came to the surface here. And now, after this dimension has entered the plot, Stendhal can give an explanation, reveal the mystery of Julien's shot.

Sitting in prison, Sorel reflects: "I was insulted in the most cruel way." And when he finds out that Madame de Renal is alive, he is seized with a storm of joy, relief. Now all his thoughts are with Madame de Renal. So what happened? It turns out that in this obvious crisis of consciousness (in "semi-madness") Julien instinctively acted as if he was already aware of his first love for Madame de Renal as the only true value of his life - only value. "displaced" from consciousness, from the heart under the influence of the requirements of an external, "masked" life. Julien seemed to have thrown off all this external life here, forgot about it, forgot everything that happened after his love for Madame de Renal, as if he had purified himself - and without the slightest embarrassment he considers himself insulted, he, de Renal, in his "disguised" life, acts in these scenes as if he considers Madame de Renal a traitor; it was she who turned out to be a "traitor", and he punishes her for it!

Julien then finds his true self, returns to the purity and spontaneity of emotional impulses, his first true feeling. The second dimension won in him, his first and only love is still Madame de Renal, and he now rejects all attempts by Matilda to free him. Matilda put into play all her connections - and in general she is almost omnipotent - and achieved success: Julien is required only one thing - to make a repentance speech at the trial. It would seem that he should do this - lie just one more time and thus save his life - after all, everyone has already been bribed! But now he does not want to save his life at such a price, does not want to take on a new lie - after all, this would mean not only returning to the world of universal corruption and hypocrisy, but also taking upon himself, of course, a moral obligation to Matilda, whom he already does not love. And so he pushes away the help of Matilda - and at the trial, instead of a speech of repentance, he utters an accusatory speech against modern society. This is how the primordial moral principle triumphs, which was originally laid in Julien's nature, and so his non-conformism is fully revealed.

The novel ends with the physical death and spiritual enlightenment of the hero. This harmonious balance in the finale, this simultaneous recognition of the bitter truth of life and hovering over it gives Stendhal's tragic novel a surprisingly optimistic, major sound.

Stendhal's work played an important role in the development of French literature. It marked the beginning of a new period - classical realism. It was Stendhal who was the first to substantiate the main principles and program of the new trend, and then, with great artistic skill, embodied them in his works. The most significant work of the writer was his novel "Red and Black", which the author himself quite accurately called the chronicle of the 19th century.

The plot of the novel is based on real events. Stendhal became interested in the case of a certain young man, the son of a peasant, who, wishing to make a career, became a tutor in the house of a local rich man, but lost his job, as he was caught in love with the mother of his pupils. The subsequent life of this young man was full of setbacks and losses, which ultimately led him to commit suicide. Taking this plot as the basis for his future work, Stendhal significantly modified, deepened and expanded it, covering all spheres of contemporary social life, and created, instead of a petty ambitious person, a heroic and tragic personality - Julien Sorel.

The writer was primarily interested in the spiritual world of the hero, the ways of becoming and changing his character and worldview, his complex and dramatic interaction with the environment. For him, it was not the intrigue itself that was important, but the inner action transferred into the soul and mind of Julien Sorel. Before deciding on an action or deed, the hero of Stendhal subjects himself and the situation to a rigorous analysis, enters into a dialogue with himself. In the world of self-interest and profit, Julien stands out for her absolute indifference to money, honesty and fortitude, perseverance in achieving goals, unrestrained courage and energy. However, he comes from a lower, infringed class estate. And this remains always and everywhere: in the mansion of Monsieur de Renal, in the Valno house, in a Parisian palace or in the hall of the Verierre court. Hence the revolutionary orientation of his way of thinking and views. The son of the Marquis de La Mola says of him: “Beware of this energetic young man! If there is another revolution, he will send us all to the guillotine. " And so thinks all of Sorel's aristocratic entourage, including Matilda de La Mole. "Isn't this the new Danton?" - she thinks, trying to understand what role her lover can play in the revolution.

However, Julien Sorel is most passionate about the pursuit of his own glory. The basis of his worldview is most clearly traced in the episode when Sorel watches the flight of a hawk. More than anything, he would like to be like this proud bird, soaring freely in the sky. He would also like to rise above the world around him. And these desires crowd out all other thoughts and aspirations of the hero. “That was the fate of Napoleon,” he thinks. “Maybe the same thing awaits me…” Inspired by the example of Napoleon and firmly confident in his own omnipotence, in the omnipotence of his will, energy, talent, Julien makes daring plans to achieve his goal. However, the hero lives in an era when it is impossible to make a worthy career and achieve fame in an honest way. Hence the main tragedy, the contradiction of this image. Julien's independent and noble spirit clashes with his ambitious aspirations, pushing the hero on the path of hypocrisy, revenge and crime. He, according to Roger Vaillant, is forced to rape his noble nature in order to play the vile role that he imposed on himself.

The author shows how difficult and contradictory his hero's path to fame becomes. We see how Julien gradually loses his best human qualities on this path, how vices more and more fill his bright soul. And he, in the end, still achieves his goal - he becomes the Viscount de Verneuil and the son-in-law of the powerful marquis. But Julien does not feel happy, he is not satisfied with his life. After all, in spite of everything, a living soul is still preserved in it. Tainted enough by light and his own ambition, Sorel is not yet fully aware of the reasons for his dissatisfaction. And only a fatal shot at Louise de Renal revealed the truth for him. The shock that the hero experienced after the crime turned his whole life upside down, forced him to rethink all the previous values \u200b\u200band views. The tragedy that has taken place morally purifies and enlightens the hero, freeing his soul from the vices instilled by society. Now the illusion of his ambitious aspirations for a career, the inconsistency and erroneousness of his ideas about happiness, as an invariable consequence of fame, was fully revealed to him. His attitude towards Matilda is also changing, the marriage with which was supposed to confirm his position in high society. She becomes for him now a clear embodiment of his ambitious aspirations, for which he was ready to make a deal with his conscience. Realizing his mistakes, feeling all the insignificance of his former aspirations and ideals, Julien refuses the help of the powers that be, who are able to rescue him from prison. So the natural principle, the pure soul of the hero gain the upper hand; he dies, but comes out victorious in the struggle against society.

In his understanding of art and the role of the artist, Stendhal came from the enlighteners. He always strove for the accuracy and truthfulness of the reflection of life in his works.

Stendhal's first big novel, Red and Black, came out in 1830, the year of the July Revolution.

Its name alone speaks of the deep social meaning of the novel, of the clash of two forces - revolution and reaction. As an epigraph to the novel, Stendhal took Danton's words: "True, a harsh truth!", And, following it, the writer based the plot on the true incident.

The title of the novel also emphasizes the main features in the character of Julien Sorel, the main character of the work. Surrounded by people who are hostile to him, he challenges fate. Defending the rights of his personality, he is forced to mobilize all means to fight the world around him. Julien Sorel comes from a peasant environment. This defines the social sound of the novel.

Sorel, a commoner, a plebeian, wants to take a place in a society to which he is not entitled by his origin. It is on this basis that the struggle against society arises. Julien himself well defines the meaning of this struggle in the scene at the trial, when he says his last word: “Gentlemen! I have no honor to belong to your class. In my face you see a peasant who rebelled against the lowland of his lot ... But even if I were guilty, it doesn't matter. I see before me people who are not inclined to heed the feeling of compassion ... and who want to punish me and once and for all frighten a whole class of young people who were born in the lower ranks ... had the good fortune to receive a good education and dare to join what the rich proudly call society. "

Thus, Julien realizes that he is being judged not so much for a really committed crime as for the fact that he dared to cross the line separating him from high society, tried to enter the world to which he has no right to belong. For this attempt, the jury should sentence him to death.

But Julien Sorel's struggle is not only for a career, for personal well-being; the question in the novel is posed much deeper. Julien wants to establish himself in society, "go to allsoch.ru - 2001-2005 people", take one of the first places in it, but on condition that this society recognizes in him a full-fledged personality, an outstanding, talented, gifted, intelligent, strong person ...

He does not want to give up these qualities, to give them up. But an agreement between Sorel and the world of Renals and La Mole is possible only on the condition of the young man's full adaptation to their tastes. This is the main point of Julien Sorel's struggle with the outside world. Julien is doubly a stranger in this environment: both as a native of the social lower classes, and as a highly gifted person who does not want to remain in the world of mediocrity.

Stendhal convinces the reader that Julien Sorel's struggle with the surrounding society is a life-and-death struggle. But in bourgeois society there is no bridge for such talents. Napoleon, whom Julien dreams of, is already the past, instead of heroes came hucksters, smug shopkeepers; that's who became a true "hero" in the time in which Julien lives. For these people, outstanding talents and heroism are ridiculous - everything that is so dear to Julien.

Julien's struggle develops in him great pride and heightened ambition. Possessed by these feelings, Sorel subordinates all other aspirations and affections to them. Even love ceases to be joy for him. Not hiding the negative aspects of his character's character, Stendhal at the same time justifies him. First, the difficulty of the struggle that he is waging: having come out one against all, Julien is forced to use any weapon. But the main thing that, according to the author, justifies the hero is the nobility of his heart, generosity, purity - features that he did not lose even in the moments of the most cruel struggle.

An episode in prison is very important in the development of Julien's character. Until then, the only incentive that drove all his actions, limiting his good motives, was ambition. But in prison he becomes convinced that ambition has led him in the wrong way. In prison there is also a reassessment of Julien's feelings for Madame de Renal and for Matilda.

These two images, as it were, signify the struggle of two principles in the soul of Julien himself. And there are two creatures in Julien: he is proud, ambitious and at the same time - a man with a simple heart, almost a childish, spontaneous soul. As he overcame ambition and pride, he moved away from the equally proud and ambitious Matilda. And the frank Madame de Renal, whose love was deeper, became especially close to him.

Overcoming ambition and the victory of real feelings in Julien's soul lead him to death.

Julien gives up trying to save herself. Life seems to him unnecessary, pointless, he no longer cherishes it and prefers death on the guillotine.

Stendhal could not solve the question of how the hero, who had overcome his delusions, but remained in bourgeois society, should have rebuilt his life.

"It's hard for me, brother, to mention ..." (behind G. Sholokhov's story "The Fate of a Man") Feeling his moral duty to the Russian soldier and his great feat, Sholokhov wrote his famous story "The Fate of a Man" in 1956. The story of Andrei Sokolov, who personifies the national character and fate of an entire nation, is, in terms of its historical volume, a novel that fits within the border of the story. The main character…

Many people find Oscar Wilde's novel "The Picture of Dorian Gray" incomprehensible. Of course, by recently, the writer's work was interpreted not quite adequately: literary critics considered aestheticism as an alien phenomenon, moreover, immoral. Meanwhile, the work of Oscar Wilde, analyzed carefully, gives an answer to the question that worries humanity from the time of his birth: what is beauty, what is its role in becoming ...

Shevchenko is the founder of the new Ukrainian literature. Shevchenko is the founder of the new Ukrainian literature and the ancestor of its revolutionary democratic direction. It was in his work that those principles fully developed, which became guiding for the leading Ukrainian writers of the second half of the ХiХ - the beginning of the XX centuries. The tendencies of nationalities and realism were already inherent to a large extent in the work of Shevchenko's predecessors. Shevchenko is the first ...

1937 year. A terrible page in our history. Names come to mind: V. Shalamov, O. Mandelstam, O. Solzhenitsyn ... Dozens, thousands of names. And behind them are crippled fate, hopeless grief, fear, despair, oblivion. But human memory is amazingly arranged. She protects naytaemnishe, dear. And terrible ... "White Clothes" by V. Dudintsev, "Children of the Arbat" by A. Rybakov, "By Right of Memory" by O. Tvardovsky, "The Problem of Bread" by V. ...

The theme of this work simply excites my poetic imagination. The borderline of the 19th and 20th centuries is such a bright, active page of literature that you even complain that you did not have to live in those days. Or maybe I had to, because I feel something like that in myself ... The storminess of that time arises in such an obvious way, as if you see all those literary disputes ...

Anton Pavlovich Chekhov occupies an equally prominent place in the world literary process both as a prose writer and as a playwright. But as a playwright, he was determined earlier. At the age of eighteen, Chekhov began work on his first play, which did not appear in the world during the life of the author. But Chekhov's great work as a Playwright began much later, eighteen years later, from The Seagull, which was ...

A story about nature in the spring season Beginning of spring of light Spring frost Road at the end of March First streams Spring stream Spring water Song of water Spring picking Bird cherry Spring coup Beginning of spring light On January 18, it was minus 20 in the morning, and dripping from the roof in the middle of the day. This whole day, from morning to night, seemed to bloom and ...

One of the most serious social and psychological problems, which from time immemorial is solved by modern literature, is composed in the correct choice of the hero's place in life, the accuracy of his determination of his goal. Consideration about our contemporary and his life, about his civic courage and moral position is led by one of the most important contemporary writers, Valentin Rasputin, in his stories "Farewell to Mother", "Fire". When you read ...

It is inherent in a person to decorate his own life, and not only for prying eyes, but also for his own. This is understandable, even natural. As a bird builds its own nest, so a person creates comfort in his own home, order and traditions in the family, a lifestyle. It doesn't matter only when it becomes an end in itself, not a background, but the main plot, when serious conversations are gradually hidden and ...

Swans are flying, curling, carrying motherly love on their wings. Mother, mother, dear mother - how many words are there in the world with which we call a person's nairidnisha ?! And or is it possible to convey by them all the love for the mother - the only woman who will never betray you, despite the pain, tears and suffering? She will always be by your side ...