The blind man lay quietly, folding his arms on his chest and smiling. He smiled unconsciously. He was ordered not to move, in any case, to make movements only in cases of strict necessity. He lay there like that for the third day, blindfolded. But his state of mind, despite this weak, frozen smile, was that of a condemned man awaiting mercy. From time to time, the opportunity to begin to live again, balancing himself in a bright space with the mysterious work of his pupils, suddenly appearing clearly, excited him so much that he twitched all over, as if in a dream.
Protecting Rabid's nerves, the professor did not tell him that the operation was a success, that he would certainly become sighted again. Some ten-thousandth chance back could turn everything into a tragedy. Therefore, when saying goodbye, the professor said to Rabid every day:
Be calm. Everything has been done for you, the rest will follow.
Amid the painful tension, anticipation and all sorts of assumptions, Rabid heard the voice of Daisy Garan approaching him. It was a girl who worked at the clinic; often in difficult moments Rabid asked her to put her hand on his forehead and now he was pleased to expect that this small friendly hand would lightly cling to his head, numb from immobility. And so it happened.
When she took her hand away, he, who had looked inside himself for so long and learned to unmistakably understand the movements of his heart, realized once again that his main fear lately had been the fear of never seeing Daisy. Even when he was brought here and he heard a swift female voice in charge of the patient’s device, a gratifying feeling stirred in him of a gentle and slender creature, drawn by the sound of this voice. It was a warm, cheerful and close to the soul sound of young life, rich in melodious shades, clear as a warm morning.
Gradually, her image clearly arose in him, arbitrary, like all our ideas about the invisible, but necessary for him. Talking only to her for three weeks, submitting to her easy and persistent care, Rabid knew that he began to love her from the first days; now getting well became his goal for her sake.
He thought that she treated him with deep sympathy, favorable for the future. Blind, he did not consider himself entitled to ask these questions, postponing their decision until the time when both of them looked into each other's eyes. And he was completely unaware that this girl, whose voice made him so happy, was thinking about his recovery with fear and sadness, since she was ugly. Her feeling for him arose from loneliness, the consciousness of her influence on him and from the consciousness of security. He was blind, and she could calmly look at herself with his inner idea of her, which he expressed not in words, but in his entire attitude - and she knew that he loved her.
Before the operation, they talked for a long time and a lot. Rabid told her about his wanderings, and she told about everything that was happening in the world now. And the line of her conversation was full of the same charming softness as her voice. As they parted, they thought of something else to say to each other. Her last words were:
Goodbye, bye.
Bye... - Rabid answered, and it seemed to him that in “bye” there was hope.
He was straight, young, brave, humorous, tall and black-haired. He should have - if he had - black shiny eyes with a point-blank gaze. Imagining this look, Daisy walked away from the mirror with fear in her eyes. And her painful, irregular face was covered with a gentle blush.
What will happen? - she said. - Well, let this good month end. But open his prison, Professor Rebald, please!
When the hour of testing came and the light was installed, which at first Rabid could fight with his weak gaze, the professor and his assistant and with them several other people from the scientific world surrounded Rabid.
Daisy! - he said, thinking that she was here, and hoping to see her first. But she was not there precisely because at that moment she did not find the strength to see or feel the excitement of a man whose fate was being decided by the removal of the bandage. She stood in the middle of the room, spellbound, listening to voices and footsteps. With an involuntary effort of imagination, which overshadows us in moments of heavy sighs, she saw herself somewhere in another world, another, as she would like to appear to a newborn gaze - she sighed and resigned herself to fate.
Meanwhile, the bandage was removed. Continuing to feel her disappearance, the pressure, Rabid lay in acute and blissful doubts. His pulse dropped.
The job is done,” said the professor, and his voice trembled with excitement. - Look, open your eyes!
Rabid raised his eyelids, still thinking that Daisy was here, and ashamed to call out to her again. A curtain of some sort hung in folds right in front of his face.
Remove the matter,” he said, “it’s in the way.” And, having said this, I realized that I saw that the folds of material, hung as if on the very face, were a window curtain at the far end of the room.
His chest began to heave convulsively, and he, not noticing the sobs that were uncontrollably shaking his entire exhausted, resting body, began to look around, as if reading a book. Object after object passed before him in the light of his delight, and he saw the door, instantly loving it, because this is what the door through which Daisy passed looked like. Smiling blissfully, he took a glass from the table, his hand trembled, and he, almost without making a mistake, put it back in its original place.
Now he was impatiently waiting for all the people who had restored his sight to leave, so that he could call Daisy and, with the right to receive the ability to fight for life, tell her all that was important. But several more minutes passed of a solemn, excited, learned conversation in a low voice, during which he had to answer how he felt and how he saw.
In the rapid flashing of thoughts that filled him, and in his terrible excitement, he could not remember the details of these minutes and establish when he was finally left alone. But this moment has come. Rabid called, told the servant that he was expecting Desi Garan immediately, and began to look blissfully at the door.
Having learned that the operation was a brilliant success, Daisy returned to her room, breathing the purity of loneliness, and, with tears in her eyes, with the meek courage of the latter, crossing out all meetings, she dressed in a pretty summer dress.
She tidied up her thick hair simply - exactly in such a way that nothing better could have been done to this dark wave with a damp shine, and with her face open to everything, naturally raising her head, she went out with a smile on her face and execution in her soul to the doors behind which everything was so changed extraordinarily. It even seemed to her that it was not Rabid who lay there, but someone completely different. And, remembering with all the speed of the last minutes many little details of their meetings and conversations, she realized that he definitely loved her.
Touching the door, she hesitated and opened it, almost wishing that everything would remain the same. Rabid lay with his head towards her, searching for her behind him with his eyes in an energetic turn of his face. She walked by and stopped.
Who are you? - Rabid asked, smiling inquiringly.
Is it true that I seem to be a new creature to you? - she said, instantly returning to him with the sounds of her voice all their short past, hidden from each other.
In his black eyes she saw undisguised, complete joy, and the suffering released her. No miracle happened, but her entire inner world, all her love, fears, pride and desperate thoughts and all the excitement of the last minute were expressed in such a smile on her blush-filled face that the whole of her, with her slender figure, seemed to Rabid like the sound of a string entwined with flowers. She was beautiful in the light of love.
Now, only now,” said Rabid, “I understood why you have such a voice that I loved to hear it even in my dreams.” Now, even if you go blind, I will love you and cure you. Forgive me. I'm a little crazy because I was resurrected. I can be allowed to say everything.
At that moment, his exact image of her, born of darkness, was and remained one that she did not expect.
The blind man lay quietly, folding his arms on his chest and smiling. He smiled unconsciously. He was ordered not to move, in any case, to make movements only in cases of strict necessity. He lay there like that for the third day, blindfolded. But his state of mind, despite this weak, frozen smile, was that of a condemned man awaiting mercy. From time to time, the opportunity to begin to live again, balancing himself in a bright space with the mysterious work of his pupils, suddenly appearing clearly, excited him so much that he twitched all over, as if in a dream.
Protecting Rabid's nerves, the professor did not tell him that the operation was a success, that he would certainly become sighted again. Some ten-thousandth chance back could turn everything into a tragedy. Therefore, when saying goodbye, the professor said to Rabid every day:
Be calm. Everything has been done for you, the rest will follow.
Amid the painful tension, anticipation and all sorts of assumptions, Rabid heard the voice of Daisy Garan approaching him. It was a girl who worked at the clinic; often in difficult moments Rabid asked her to put her hand on his forehead and now he was pleased to expect that this small friendly hand would lightly cling to his head, numb from immobility. And so it happened.
When she took her hand away, he, who had looked inside himself for so long and learned to unmistakably understand the movements of his heart, realized once again that his main fear lately had been the fear of never seeing Daisy. Even when he was brought here and he heard a swift female voice in charge of the patient’s device, a gratifying feeling stirred in him of a gentle and slender creature, drawn by the sound of this voice. It was a warm, cheerful and close to the soul sound of young life, rich in melodious shades, clear as a warm morning.
Gradually, her image clearly arose in him, arbitrary, like all our ideas about the invisible, but necessary for him. Talking only to her for three weeks, submitting to her easy and persistent care, Rabid knew that he began to love her from the first days; now getting well became his goal for her sake.
He thought that she treated him with deep sympathy, favorable for the future. Blind, he did not consider himself entitled to ask these questions, postponing their decision until the time when both of them looked into each other's eyes. And he was completely unaware that this girl, whose voice made him so happy, was thinking about his recovery with fear and sadness, since she was ugly. Her feeling for him arose from loneliness, the consciousness of her influence on him and from the consciousness of security. He was blind, and she could calmly look at herself with his inner idea of her, which he expressed not in words, but in his entire attitude - and she knew that he loved her.
Before the operation, they talked for a long time and a lot. Rabid told her about his wanderings, and she told about everything that was happening in the world now. And the line of her conversation was full of the same charming softness as her voice. As they parted, they thought of something else to say to each other. Her last words were:
Goodbye, bye.
Bye... - answered Rabid, and it seemed to him that in “bye” there was hope.
He was straight, young, brave, humorous, tall and black-haired. He should have - if he had - black shiny eyes with a point-blank gaze. Imagining this look, Daisy walked away from the mirror with fear in her eyes. And her painful, irregular face was covered with a gentle blush.
What will happen? - she said. - Well, let this good month end. But open his prison, Professor Rebald, please!
When the hour of testing came and the light was installed, which at first Rabid could fight with his weak gaze, the professor and his assistant and with them several other people from the scientific world surrounded Rabid.
Daisy! - he said, thinking that she was here, and hoping to see her first. But she was not there precisely because at that moment she did not find the strength to see or feel the excitement of a man whose fate was being decided by the removal of the bandage. She stood in the middle of the room, spellbound, listening to voices and footsteps. With an involuntary effort of imagination, which overshadows us in moments of heavy sighs, she saw herself somewhere in another world, another, as she would like to appear to a newborn gaze - she sighed and resigned herself to fate.
Meanwhile, the bandage was removed. Continuing to feel her disappearance, the pressure, Rabid lay in acute and blissful doubts. His pulse dropped.
The job is done,” said the professor, and his voice trembled with excitement. - Look, open your eyes!
Rabid raised his eyelids, still thinking that Daisy was here, and ashamed to call out to her again. A curtain of some sort hung in folds right in front of his face.
Remove the matter,” he said, “it’s in the way.” And, having said this, I realized that I saw that the folds of material, hung as if on the very face, were a window curtain at the far end of the room.
His chest began to heave convulsively, and he, not noticing the sobs that were uncontrollably shaking his entire exhausted, resting body, began to look around, as if reading a book. Object after object passed before him in the light of his delight, and he saw the door, instantly loving it, because this is what the door through which Daisy passed looked like. Smiling blissfully, he took a glass from the table, his hand trembled, and he, almost without making a mistake, put it back in its original place.
Now he was impatiently waiting for all the people who had restored his sight to leave, so that he could call Daisy and, with the right to receive the ability to fight for life, tell her all that was important. But several more minutes passed of a solemn, excited, learned conversation in a low voice, during which he had to answer how he felt and how he saw.
In the rapid flashing of thoughts that filled him, and in his terrible excitement, he could not remember the details of these minutes and establish when he was finally left alone. But this moment has come. Rabid called, told the servant that he was expecting Desi Garan immediately, and began to look blissfully at the door.
Having learned that the operation was a brilliant success, Daisy returned to her room, breathing the purity of loneliness, and, with tears in her eyes, with the meek courage of the latter, crossing out all meetings, she dressed in a pretty summer dress.
She tidied up her thick hair simply - exactly in such a way that nothing better could have been done to this dark wave with a damp shine, and with her face open to everything, naturally raising her head, she went out with a smile on her face and execution in her soul to the doors behind which everything was so changed extraordinarily. It even seemed to her that it was not Rabid who lay there, but someone completely different. And, remembering with all the speed of the last minutes many little details of their meetings and conversations, she realized that he definitely loved her.
Touching the door, she hesitated and opened it, almost wishing that everything would remain the same. Rabid lay with his head towards her, searching for her behind him with his eyes in an energetic turn of his face. She walked by and stopped.
Who are you? - Rabid asked, smiling inquiringly.
Is it true that I seem to be a new creature to you? - she said, instantly returning to him with the sounds of her voice all their short past, hidden from each other.
In his black eyes she saw undisguised, complete joy, and the suffering released her. No miracle happened, but her entire inner world, all her love, fears, pride and desperate thoughts and all the excitement of the last minute were expressed in such a smile on her blush-filled face that the whole of her, with her slender figure, seemed to Rabid like the sound of a string entwined with flowers. She was beautiful in the light of love.
Now, only now,” said Rabid, “I understood why you have such a voice that I loved to hear it even in my dreams.” Now, even if you go blind, I will love you and cure you. Forgive me. I'm a little crazy because I was resurrected. I can be allowed to say everything.
At that moment, his exact image of her, born of darkness, was and remained one that she did not expect.
The blind man lay quietly, folding his arms on his chest and smiling. He smiled unconsciously. He was ordered not to move, in any case, to make movements only in cases of strict necessity. He lay there like that for the third day, blindfolded. But his state of mind, despite this weak, frozen smile, was that of a condemned man awaiting mercy. From time to time, the opportunity to begin to live again, balancing himself in a bright space with the mysterious work of his pupils, suddenly appearing clearly, excited him so much that he twitched all over, as if in a dream.
Protecting Rabid's nerves, the professor did not tell him that the operation was a success, that he would certainly become sighted again. Some ten-thousandth chance back could turn everything into a tragedy. Therefore, when saying goodbye, the professor said to Rabid every day:
Be calm. Everything has been done for you, the rest will follow.
Amid the painful tension, anticipation and all sorts of assumptions, Rabid heard the voice of Daisy Garan approaching him. It was a girl who worked at the clinic; often in difficult moments Rabid asked her to put her hand on his forehead and now he was pleased to expect that this small friendly hand would lightly cling to his head, numb from immobility. And so it happened.
When she took her hand away, he, who had looked inside himself for so long and learned to unmistakably understand the movements of his heart, realized once again that his main fear lately had been the fear of never seeing Daisy. Even when he was brought here and he heard a swift female voice in charge of the patient’s device, a gratifying feeling stirred in him of a gentle and slender creature, drawn by the sound of this voice. It was a warm, cheerful and close to the soul sound of young life, rich in melodious shades, clear as a warm morning.
Gradually, her image clearly arose in him, arbitrary, like all our ideas about the invisible, but necessary for him. Talking only to her for three weeks, submitting to her easy and persistent care, Rabid knew that he began to love her from the first days; now getting well became his goal for her sake.
He thought that she treated him with deep sympathy, favorable for the future. Blind, he did not consider himself entitled to ask these questions, postponing their decision until the time when both of them looked into each other's eyes. And he was completely unaware that this girl, whose voice made him so happy, was thinking about his recovery with fear and sadness, since she was ugly. Her feeling for him arose from loneliness, the consciousness of her influence on him and from the consciousness of security. He was blind, and she could calmly look at herself with his inner idea of her, which he expressed not in words, but in his entire attitude - and she knew that he loved her.
Before the operation, they talked for a long time and a lot. Rabid told her about his wanderings, and she told about everything that was happening in the world now. And the line of her conversation was full of the same charming softness as her voice. As they parted, they thought of something else to say to each other. Her last words were:
Goodbye, bye.
Bye... - answered Rabid, and it seemed to him that in “bye” there was hope.
He was straight, young, brave, humorous, tall and black-haired. He should have - if he had - black shiny eyes with a point-blank gaze. Imagining this look, Daisy walked away from the mirror with fear in her eyes. And her painful, irregular face was covered with a gentle blush.
What will happen? - she said. - Well, let this good month end. But open his prison, Professor Rebald, please!
When the hour of testing came and the light was installed, which at first Rabid could fight with his weak gaze, the professor and his assistant and with them several other people from the scientific world surrounded Rabid.
Daisy! - he said, thinking that she was here, and hoping to see her first. But she was not there precisely because at that moment she did not find the strength to see or feel the excitement of a man whose fate was being decided by the removal of the bandage. She stood in the middle of the room, spellbound, listening to voices and footsteps. With an involuntary effort of imagination, which overshadows us in moments of heavy sighs, she saw herself somewhere in another world, another, as she would like to appear to a newborn gaze - she sighed and resigned herself to fate.
Meanwhile, the bandage was removed. Continuing to feel her disappearance, the pressure, Rabid lay in acute and blissful doubts. His pulse dropped.
The job is done,” said the professor, and his voice trembled with excitement. - Look, open your eyes!
Rabid raised his eyelids, still thinking that Daisy was here, and ashamed to call out to her again. A curtain of some sort hung in folds right in front of his face.
Remove the matter,” he said, “it’s in the way.” And, having said this, I realized that I saw that the folds of material, hung as if on the very face, were a window curtain at the far end of the room.
His chest began to heave convulsively, and he, not noticing the sobs that were uncontrollably shaking his entire exhausted, resting body, began to look around, as if reading a book. Object after object passed before him in the light of his delight, and he saw the door, instantly loving it, because this is what the door through which Daisy passed looked like. Smiling blissfully, he took a glass from the table, his hand trembled, and he, almost without making a mistake, put it back in its original place.
Now he was impatiently waiting for all the people who had restored his sight to leave, so that he could call Daisy and, with the right to receive the ability to fight for life, tell her all that was important. But several more minutes passed of a solemn, excited, learned conversation in a low voice, during which he had to answer how he felt and how he saw.
In the rapid flashing of thoughts that filled him, and in his terrible excitement, he could not remember the details of these minutes and establish when he was finally left alone. But this moment has come. Rabid called, told the servant that he was expecting Desi Garan immediately, and began to look blissfully at the door.
Having learned that the operation was a brilliant success, Daisy returned to her room, breathing the purity of loneliness, and, with tears in her eyes, with the meek courage of the latter, crossing out all meetings, she dressed in a pretty summer dress.
She tidied up her thick hair simply - exactly in such a way that nothing better could have been done to this dark wave with a damp shine, and with her face open to everything, naturally raising her head, she went out with a smile on her face and execution in her soul to the doors behind which everything was so changed extraordinarily. It even seemed to her that it was not Rabid who lay there, but someone completely different. And, remembering with all the speed of the last minutes many little details of their meetings and conversations, she realized that he definitely loved her.
Touching the door, she hesitated and opened it, almost wishing that everything would remain the same. Rabid lay with his head towards her, searching for her behind him with his eyes in an energetic turn of his face. She walked by and stopped.
Who are you? - Rabid asked, smiling inquiringly.
Is it true that I seem to be a new creature to you? - she said, instantly returning to him with the sounds of her voice all their short past, hidden from each other.
In his black eyes she saw undisguised, complete joy, and the suffering released her. No miracle happened, but her entire inner world, all her love, fears, pride and desperate thoughts and all the excitement of the last minute were expressed in such a smile on her blush-filled face that the whole of her, with her slender figure, seemed to Rabid like the sound of a string entwined with flowers. She was beautiful in the light of love.
Now, only now,” said Rabid, “I understood why you have such a voice that I loved to hear it even in my dreams.” Now, even if you go blind, I will love you and cure you. Forgive me. I'm a little crazy because I was resurrected. I can be allowed to say everything.
At that moment, his exact image of her, born of darkness, was and remained one that she did not expect.
Notes
Ogonyok. - Pg., 1923. No. 25. P. 1. The same in the collection: Green A.S. On the cloudy shore. - M.; L.: Gosizdat, 1925. Published according to PSS. - T. 11. Cheerful fellow traveler: Stories. - L., 1928.
The blind man lay quietly, folding his arms on his chest and smiling. He smiled unconsciously. He was ordered not to move, in any case, to make movements only in cases of strict necessity. He lay there like that for the third day, blindfolded. But his state of mind, despite this weak, frozen smile, was that of a condemned man awaiting mercy. From time to time, the opportunity to begin to live again, balancing himself in a bright space with the mysterious work of his pupils, suddenly appearing clearly, excited him so much that he twitched all over, as if in a dream.
Protecting Rabid's nerves, the professor did not tell him that the operation was a success, that he would certainly become sighted again. Some ten-thousandth chance back could turn everything into a tragedy. Therefore, when saying goodbye, the professor said to Rabid every day:
Be calm. Everything has been done for you, the rest will follow.
Amid the painful tension, anticipation and all sorts of assumptions, Rabid heard the voice of Daisy Garan approaching him. It was a girl who worked at the clinic; often in difficult moments Rabid asked her to put her hand on his forehead and now he was pleased to expect that this small friendly hand would lightly cling to his head, numb from immobility. And so it happened.
When she took her hand away, he, who had looked inside himself for so long and learned to unmistakably understand the movements of his heart, realized once again that his main fear lately had been the fear of never seeing Daisy. Even when he was brought here and he heard a swift female voice in charge of the patient’s device, a gratifying feeling stirred in him of a gentle and slender creature, drawn by the sound of this voice. It was a warm, cheerful and close to the soul sound of young life, rich in melodious shades, clear as a warm morning.
Gradually, her image clearly arose in him, arbitrary, like all our ideas about the invisible, but necessary for him. Talking only to her for three weeks, submitting to her easy and persistent care, Rabid knew that he began to love her from the first days; now getting well became his goal for her sake.
He thought that she treated him with deep sympathy, favorable for the future. Blind, he did not consider himself entitled to ask these questions, postponing their decision until the time when both of them looked into each other's eyes. And he was completely unaware that this girl, whose voice made him so happy, was thinking about his recovery with fear and sadness, since she was ugly. Her feeling for him arose from loneliness, the consciousness of her influence on him and from the consciousness of security. He was blind, and she could calmly look at herself with his inner idea of her, which he expressed not in words, but in his entire attitude - and she knew that he loved her.
Before the operation, they talked for a long time and a lot. Rabid told her about his wanderings, and she told about everything that was happening in the world now. And the line of her conversation was full of the same charming softness as her voice. As they parted, they thought of something else to say to each other. Her last words were:
Goodbye, bye.
For now... - Rabid answered, and it seemed to him that there was hope in “for now.”
He was straight, young, brave, humorous, tall and black-haired. He should have - if he had - black shiny eyes with a point-blank gaze. Imagining this look, Daisy walked away from the mirror with fear in her eyes. And her painful, irregular face was covered with a gentle blush. “What will happen? - she said. “Well, let this good month end.” But open his prison, Professor Rebald, I beg you!”
II
When the hour of testing came and the light was installed, which at first Rabid could fight with his weak gaze, the professor and his assistant and with them several other people from the scientific world surrounded Rabid. "Daisy!" - he said, thinking that she was here, and hoping to see her first. But she was not there precisely because at that moment she did not find the strength to see or feel the excitement of a man whose fate was being decided by the removal of the bandage. She stood in the middle of the room, spellbound, listening to voices and footsteps. With an involuntary effort of imagination, which overshadows us in moments of heavy sighs, she saw herself somewhere in another world, another, as she would like to appear to a newborn gaze - she sighed and resigned herself to fate.
Meanwhile, the bandage was removed. Continuing to feel her disappearance, the pressure, Rabid lay in acute and blissful doubts. His pulse dropped. “The job is done,” said the professor, and his voice trembled with excitement. “Look, open your eyes!”
Rabid raised his eyelids, still thinking that Daisy was here, and ashamed to call out to her again. A curtain of some sort hung in folds right in front of his face. “Remove the matter,” he said, “it’s in the way.” And having said this, I realized that I saw that the folds of material, hung as if on the very face, were a window curtain at the far end of the room.
His chest began to heave convulsively, and he, not noticing the sobs that were uncontrollably shaking his entire exhausted, resting body, began to look around, as if reading a book. Object after object passed before him in the light of his delight, and he saw the door, instantly loving it, because this is what the door Daisy passed through looked like. Smiling blissfully, he took a glass from the table; his hand trembled, and he, almost without making a mistake, put it back in its original place.
Now he was impatiently waiting for all the people who had restored his sight to leave, so that he could call Daisy and, with the right to receive the ability to fight for life, tell her all that was important. But several more minutes passed of a solemn, excited, learned conversation in a low voice, during which he had to answer how he felt and how he saw.
In the rapid flashing of thoughts that filled him, and in his terrible excitement, he could not remember the details of these minutes and establish when he was finally left alone. But this moment has come. Rabid called, told the servant that he was expecting Desi Garan immediately, and began to look blissfully at the door.
III
Having learned that the operation was a brilliant success, Daisy returned to her room, breathing the purity of loneliness, and, with tears in her eyes, with the meek courage of the latter, crossing out all meetings, she dressed in a pretty summer dress. She tidied up her thick hair simply - exactly in such a way that nothing better could have been done to this dark wave with a damp shine, and with her face open to everything, naturally raising her head, she went out with a smile on her face and execution in her soul to the doors behind which everything was so changed extraordinarily. It even seemed to her that it was not Rabid who lay there, but someone completely different. And, remembering with all the speed of the last minutes many little details of their meetings and conversations, she realized that he definitely loved her.
Touching the door, she hesitated and opened it, almost wishing that everything would remain the same. Rabid lay with his head towards her, searching for her behind him with his eyes in an energetic turn of his face. She walked by and stopped.
Who are you? - Rabid asked, smiling inquiringly.
Is it true that I seem to be a new creature to you? - she said, instantly returning to him with the sounds of her voice all their short past, hidden from each other.
In his black eyes she saw undisguised, complete joy, and the suffering released her. No miracle happened, but her entire inner world, all her love, fears, pride and desperate thoughts and all the excitement of the last minute were expressed in such a smile on her blush-filled face that the whole of her, with her slender figure, seemed to Rabid like the sound of a string entwined with flowers. She was beautiful in the light of love.
Now, only now,” said Rabid, “I understood why you have such a voice that I loved to hear it even in my dreams.” Now, even if you go blind, I will love you and cure you. Forgive me. I'm a little crazy because I was resurrected. I can be allowed to say everything.
At that moment, his exact image of her, born of darkness, was and remained one that she did not expect.
Large trees attract lightning.
Alexandre Dumas
Early in the morning, a quiet conversation could be heard behind the through bars of the park fence. The young man, sleeping in the northern corner room, woke up at the moment when the short expressive cry of a woman drowned out the chirping of birds.
The one who woke up lay in bed for some time; Hearing quick footsteps under the window, he stood up, threw back the curtain and did not notice anyone; everything was quiet, the early cold sun fell into the alleys with low light; long, dewy shadows dappled the cheerful half-asleep of the park; the lawns were smoking, the silence seemed drowsy and restless.
“I dreamed it,” the young man thought and lay down again, trying to sleep.
“The voice was similar, very similar,” he muttered, turning on his other side. So he dozed with his eyes open for about five minutes, thinking about his imminent departure, about love and tenderness. Half-forgotten memories arose; in the morning silence they acquired the touching shade of dreams, exciting with their intangible fluency and irrevocability.
Turning to reality, Gnor tried for some time to turn his less than twenty years into twenty-one. The question of coming of age was a pressing issue for him: it is customary for very young people, when they think of marrying a very young person, to create various obstacles. Gnor looked around at the beautiful furnishings of the room in which he lived for about a month. Her solid luxury towards him was something like a sign posted above a businessman’s desk: “a day has twenty-four hours.” In Gnor's language it sounded like this: "she has too much money."
Gnor blushed, turned over the hot pillow - and there was no sleep at all. For some time his soul lay under the pressure of wounded pride; Following this, shaking off the unpleasant heaviness, Gnor smiled very inconsistently and tenderly. For him, as for any simple soul, intimate memories were more convincing than the calculations of social mathematics. Moving his lips slowly, Gnor repeated aloud some of the words he had spoken last night; words that flew from mouth to mouth like birds frightened at dawn and disappeared in the anxiety of twilight. Pressing himself tighter to the pillow, he remembered the first careful touches of hands, a serious kiss, sparkling eyes and vows. Gnor laughed, covering his mouth with a blanket, stretched and heard a dull, rapid ringing repeat six times in the far room.
“It’s six o’clock,” said Gnor, “and I don’t want to sleep.” What should I do?
The exceptional event of yesterday filled him with light, causeless melancholy and joy. A man who has received a woman's first kiss does not know the next day where to put his hands and feet; the whole body, except the heart, seems to him an unbearable burden. At the same time, the need to move, live and start living as early as possible is a constant cause of restless sleep for the happy. Gnor hastily dressed, went out, walked through a row of pale, polished halls covered in colored silk; in the last of them, the wall mirror reflected the back of a man sitting behind a newspaper. This man was sitting at the far corner table; his bowed head rose at the sound of Gnor's steps; the last one stopped.
- How! - he said, laughing. -Are you awake too?! You, an example of regular life! Now at least I can discuss with you two what to do after waking up so recklessly early.
The man with the newspaper had a long name, but everyone, including himself, was content with one part of it: Enniok. He threw the rustling sheet onto the floor, stood up, lazily rubbed his hands and looked at Gnor questioningly. A belated smile appeared on his pale face.
“I didn’t go to bed,” Enniok said. - True, there were no particularly good reasons for this. But still, before leaving, I have the habit of sorting through the papers and taking notes. What a juicy golden morning, isn’t it?
-Are you going too?
- Yes. Tomorrow.
Enniok looked at Gnor calmly and affectionately; His usually dry face was now attractive, almost friendly. “How can this man change,” thought Gnor, “he is a whole crowd of people, a silent and nervous crowd. He alone fills this big house.”
“I, too, will leave tomorrow,” said Gnor, “and I want to ask you at what time does the Bishop of the Archipelago leave?”
- Don't know. - Enniok’s voice became more and more melodious and pleasant. - I do not depend on shipping companies; because, as you know, I have my own yacht. And if you want,” he added, “there is a nice, roomy cabin for you.”
“Thank you,” said Gnor, “but the ship is on a direct flight.” I'll be home in a week.
- A week, two weeks - what's the difference? - Enniok objected indifferently. - We will visit the remote corners of the earth and remind ourselves of curious fish caught in the golden net of miracles. Some places, especially when you are young, leave burning memories. I know the globe; making a detour of a thousand miles for your sake and walking will give me nothing but health.
Gnor hesitated. Sailing with Enniok, who stayed under the same roof with him for two months, seemed to Gnor good and bad. Enniok talked to her, looked at her, the three of them repeatedly took walks. For lovers, the presence of such a person, after the object of passion has become invisible and distant, sometimes serves as a bitter but tangible consolation. And the bad thing was that Carmen’s first letter, her original handwriting, the paper on which her hand lay, would have been waiting for him for too long. Gnor wanted to read this beautiful, not yet written letter as soon as possible.
“No,” he said, “I thank and refuse.”
Enniok picked up the newspaper, carefully folded it, threw it on the table and turned to face the terrace. Its morning, dazzling glasses glowed with greenery; the damp smell of flowers permeated the hall along with a quiet exultation of light, making the cold splendor of the building clear and soft.
Gnor looked around, as if wanting to remember all the little things and details. This house became an important part of his soul; Carmen’s gaze seemed to rest on all objects, imparting to them in a mysterious way a gentle force of attraction; the silent speech of things spoke of days that passed quickly and restlessly, of painful anxiety in glances, silence, insignificant conversations, exciting like anger, like joyful shock; silent calls to a smiling face, doubts and dreams. Almost forgetting about Enniok's presence, Gnor silently looked into the depths of the arch, opening up the prospect of distant, spacious halls crossed by slanting pillars of smoky morning light. Enniok's touch brought him out of his thoughts.
- Why did you wake up? - Enniok asked, yawning. - I would drink coffee, but the barman is still sleeping, and so are the maids. Perhaps you had a terrible dream?
“No,” said Gnor, “I became nervous... Some trifle, the sounds of a conversation, perhaps on the street...
Enniok looked at him from under the hand with which he was rubbing his forehead, thoughtfully but calmly. Gnor continued:
- Let's go to the billiard room. You and I have absolutely nothing to do.
- Willingly. I will try to win back my loss yesterday to the gilded butcher Knast.
“I don’t play for money,” said Gnor and, smiling, added: “Besides, I’m running out of money now.”
“We will agree below,” Enniok said.
He quickly walked forward and disappeared into a wing of the corridor. Gnor moved after him. But, hearing well-known steps behind him, he turned around and joyfully extended his hands. Carmen approached him with a perplexed, pale, but lively and clear face; her movements revealed anxiety and indecision.
“It’s not you, it’s the sun,” said Gnor, taking his small hand, “that’s why it’s so bright and pure.” Why aren't you sleeping?
- Don't know.
This graceful girl, with a kind wrinkle in her eyebrows and a firm mouth, spoke in an open, chesty voice that aged her a little, like a grandmother’s cap worn by a ten-year-old girl.
- And you?
“Nobody sleeps today,” said Gnor. - I love you. Enniok and I - we don't sleep. You are third.
- Insomnia. - She stood sideways to Gnor; her hand, held by the young man, trustingly climbed into his sleeve, leaving between the cloth and shirt a blissful feeling of fleeting caress. - You will leave, but come back soon, and before that, write to me more often. After all, I love you too.
“There are three worlds,” said the touched Gnor, “the world is beautiful, wonderful and charming.” A beautiful world is the earth, a beautiful world is art. The wonderful world is you. I don't want to leave at all, Carmen; this is what the father wants; he is completely ill, things are neglected. I'm going on duty. I don't care. I don't want to offend the old man. But he is already a stranger to me; Everything is alien to me, I love only you.
“Me too,” said the girl. - Goodbye, I need to lie down, I’m tired, Gnor, and if you...
Without finishing, she nodded to Gnor, continuing to look at him with the look that only a woman in the prime of her first love can look at, walked away to the door, but returned and, going up to the piano, glittering in the dusty light of the window, touched the keys. The fact that she began to play quietly and quickly was familiar to Gnor; With his head down, he listened to the beginning of the original melody, cheerful and full-bodied. Carmen took her hands away; the unfinished beat froze with a questioning ringing.
“I’ll finish playing later,” she said.
- When?
- When you are with me.
She smiled and disappeared through the side door, smiling.
Gnor shook his head, mentally finished the melody that Carmen had interrupted, and went to Enniok. It was twilight here; low windows, hung with thick material, gave almost no light; the small walnut billiard looked gloomy, like a student's chalk board in an empty classroom. Enniok pressed the button; electric tulips glowed lifelessly under the ceiling; This light, mixing with daylight, languidly illuminated the room. Enniok examined the cue, carefully chalked it up and put it under his arm, putting his hands in his pocket.
“You begin,” said Gnor.
- What are we going to play for? - Enniok said slowly, taking his hand out of his pocket and twirling the ball with his fingers. - I return to my proposal. If you lose, I'll take you on my yacht.
“Okay,” said Gnor. The ironic carelessness of a happy man took possession of him. - Okay, a yacht is a yacht. In any case, this is a flattering loss! What do you bet against this?
- Whatever you want. - Enniok thought, arching his cue; the wood cracked and fell out of my hands onto the parquet. “How careless I am,” said Enniok, kicking away the debris with his foot. - Here's what: if you win, I will not interfere with your life, accepting your fate.
He uttered these words quickly, in a slightly changed voice, and immediately began to laugh, looking at the surprised Gnor with motionless, kind eyes.
“I’m a joker,” he said. “Nothing gives me such essentially harmless pleasure as making a person’s mouth open.” No, when you win, you demand and get everything you want.
- Fine. - Gnor rolled out the ball. - I won't ruin you.
He made three caroms, taking the opponent's ball to the opposite corner, and gave way to Enniok.
“One,” he said. The balls ran, drawing noiseless angles across the cloth, and stopped in an advantageous position. - Two. - Hitting with the cue, he almost did not move from his spot. - Three. Four. Five. Six.
Gnor, smiling forcedly, watched as two submissive balls, bouncing and spinning, exposed themselves to the third, who ran around them with the speed of a shepherd driving a herd. The ball hit the other two in turn with dry clicks and returned to Enniok.
“Fourteen,” said Enniok; large drops of sweat appeared on his temples; he missed, took a breath and stepped aside.
“You are a strong opponent,” said Gnor, “and I will be careful.”
While playing, he managed to bring the balls together; he stroked them with his ball, first on one side, then on the other, trying not to separate them and not to remain in a straight line with them. Alternately, making more or less points, the players went evenly; half an hour later Gnor’s meter read ninety-five, Enniok’s counted ninety-nine.
“Five,” said Gnor. “Five,” he repeated, hitting both of them, and sighed with satisfaction. - I have four left.
He made three more shots and missed the last one: the cue slipped, but the ball did not roll.
“Your luck,” said Gnor with some annoyance, “I lost.”
Enniok was silent. Gnor looked at the cloth and smiled: the balls stood opposite each other on opposite sides; the third, which Enniok was supposed to play with, stopped in the middle of the billiard table; all three were connected by a straight line. “Carrom is almost impossible,” he thought and began to look.
Enniok bent over, rested the fingers of his left hand on the cloth, lowered the cue and took aim. He was very pale, as pale as a white ball of bone. He closed his eyes for a moment, opened his eyes, sighed and hit the bottom of the ball with all his might; the ball flashed, snapped the distant one, arcing away, and, quickly spinning in the opposite direction, like a boomerang, rolling ever quieter, lightly, as if with a sigh, touched the second one. Enniok threw the cue.
“I used to play better,” he said. His hands were shaking.
He began to wash them, nervously tapping the pedal of the earthenware washbasin.
Gnor silently placed the cue. He did not expect to lose, and therefore what happened seemed doubly absurd to him. “You didn’t bring me happiness today,” he thought, “and I won’t receive your letter soon. It’s all an accident.”
“It’s all a matter of chance,” Enniok said, as if guessing his thoughts, continuing to fiddle with the towel. - Maybe you are happy in love. So, I will prepare a cabin for you. Carmen was playing upstairs recently; she has good technique. How strange that the three of us woke up at the same time.
- Strange? Why? - Gnor said absently. - It's an accident.
- Yes, an accident. - Enniok turned off the electricity. - Let's go have breakfast, dear, and talk about the voyage ahead of us.
The greenish reflections of the waves running behind the round glass of the porthole crawled up, oscillated near the ceiling and, again, obeying the swing of the ship, silently rushed down. The murmur of water jets pouring over the hull of the yacht with swift touches; clatter of feet above; a muffled cry, coming as if from another world; door handle rattling; the lazy creaking of the masts, the roar of the wind, the splash of the sail; the dance of the hanging calendar on the wall - the whole rhythm of a ship's day, moments of silence, full of severe tension, the uncertain comfort of the ocean, resurrecting the fantasies, exploits and horrors, joys and disasters of sea chronicles - the influx of these impressions kept Gnor for about five minutes in a state of solemn stupor; he wanted to get up and go out onto the deck, but immediately forgot about it, watching the play of splashes flowing down the porthole as a muddy slurry. Gnor's thoughts were, as always, at one point on the distant shore - a point that was henceforth their permanent residence.
At that moment Enniok entered; he was very cheerful; his oilskin naval cap, pushed back to the back of his head, gave his sharp, mobile face a touch of rough nonchalance. He sat down on a folding chair. Gnor closed the book.
“Gnor,” said Enniok, “I am preparing rare impressions for you.” "Orpheus" will drop anchor in a few minutes, the two of us will ride on the gig. What you will see is amazing. About a mile and a half from here lies the island of Ash; it is small, cozy and, as it were, created for solitude. But there are many such islands; no, I wouldn’t tear you away from your book for a sentimental stroll. A man lives on the island.
“Okay,” said Gnor, “this man, of course, is Robinson or his grandson.” I am ready to pay my respects to him. He will treat us with goat's milk and the company of a parrot.
- You guessed it. - Enniok straightened his cap, his animation faded, his voice became firm and quiet. - He lives here recently, I will visit him today for the last time. After the gig leaves, he will no longer see a human face. My desire to travel with you is justified by the ability of prying eyes to create stories out of nothing. This is not entirely clear to you, but he himself will probably tell you about himself; For our time, this story sounds like an echo of forgotten legends, although it is as vital and true as the howl of a hungry man or a bump on his forehead; she is fierce and interesting.
“He’s an old man,” said Gnor, “he probably doesn’t like life and people?”
- You are mistaken. - Enniok shook his head. - No, he is still a very young animal. He is of average height, very similar to you.
“I feel very sorry for the poor fellow,” said Gnor. “You must be the only one who doesn’t dislike him.”
- I cooked it myself. This is my brainchild. - Enniok began to rub his hands, holding them in front of his face; blew on his fingers, although the temperature of the cabin was approaching boiling point. - You see, I am his spiritual father. Everything will be explained. - He stood up, walked to the ladder, returned and, smiling warningly, took Gnor by the button. - "Orpheus" will finish its journey in five, many six days. Are you satisfied with the trip?
- Yes. - Gnor looked seriously at Enniok. - I'm tired of the international floating crowds of steamship flights; forever, for the rest of my life, the tarred deck, the sky whitened by sails full of salty wind, the starry nights of the ocean and your hospitality will remain in my memory.
“I am a reserved person,” Enniok said, shaking his head, as if Gnor’s answer did not fully satisfy him, “restrained and reserved.” Reserved, withdrawn and suspicious. Was everything okay with you?
- Absolutely.
- Team attitude?
- Wonderful.
- Table? Lighting? Toilet?
“It’s cruel, Enniok,” Gnor objected, laughing, “it’s cruel to force a person to offer only pitiful human words in the form of gratitude.” Stop the torture. The most demanding guest could not live here better than me.
“Sorry,” Enniok continued insistently, “I, as I already told you, am suspicious.” Have I been a gentleman to you?
Gnor wanted to answer with a joke, but Enniok’s clenched teeth instantly changed the young man’s calm mood, he silently shrugged his shoulders.
“You surprise me,” he said somewhat dryly, “and I remember that... yes... indeed, I had occasions before to not fully understand you.”
Enniok raised his leg over the ramp.
“No, this is simple suspiciousness,” he said. - Simple suspiciousness, but I express it humorously.
He disappeared into the light circle of the hatch, and Gnor, mechanically flipping through the pages of the book, continued his mental conversation with this cheeky, decisive, lived-in man who makes you think carefully about yourself. Their relations were always a model of courtesy, attention and consideration; as if destined in the future for an unknown mutual competition, they still unconsciously crossed thoughts and expressions, honing words - weapons of the spirit, fighting with glances and gestures, smiles and jokes, disputes and silence. Their expressions were refined, and the tone of their voice always corresponded to the exact meaning of the phrases. In their hearts there was no careless simplicity for each other - a companion of mutual sympathy; Enniok saw right through Gnor, Gnor did not see the real Enniok; the living form of this man, too flexible and pliable, mixed tones.
The brutal crack of the anchor chain interrupted Gnor’s thoughts at the place where he was telling Enniok: “Your concern is in vain and looks like a joke.” The sunlight that connected the hatch opening with the shadowy depths of the cabin wavered and disappeared on the deck. "Orpheus" turned.
Gnor went upstairs.
The afternoon burned with all the might of the fiery lungs of the south; the wonderful simplicity of the ocean, its blue shine surrounding the yacht; the naked, burned backs of the sailors bent over the lowered sails, reminiscent of the scattered underwear of a giant; to the right, cut off by the white thread of the surf, rose a rocky depression of the shore. Two people were fiddling around a wooden box. One handed the items, the other laid them down, from time to time straightening up and scratching a piece of paper with his nail: Gnor stopped at the davit, the sailors continued their work.
- Is the carbine in the case? - said the man with the paper, drawing a line under the line.
“Yes,” answered the other.
- Blanket?
- Eat.
- Ammo?
- Eat.
- Canned food?
- Eat.
- Lingerie?
- Eat.
- Candles?
- Eat.
- Matches?
- Eat.
- Flint, two flints?
- Eat.
- Tobacco?
- Eat.
The sailor sitting on the box began hammering in nails. Gnor turned to the island where the strange, fabulous man Ennioka lived; the items packed in the box were probably intended for him. He avoided people, but apparently they remembered him, supplying him with what he needed - the work of Enniok.
“Actions speak volumes,” Gnor said to himself. - He's softer than I thought he was.
Footsteps were heard behind him; Gnor turned around: Enniok stood in front of him, dressed for a walk, in boots and a sweatshirt; his eyes sparkled.
“Don’t take the gun, I took it,” he said.
“When I visited the observatory for the first time in my life,” said Gnor, “the thought that I would see bright blocks of worlds in the black well of the abyss, that the telescope would give me away to the terrible infinity of the world ether, excited me terribly.” I felt as if I was risking my life. This seems to be my current state. I am afraid and want to see your man; he must be different from you and me. He's huge. It must make a strong impression.
“The unfortunate thing is out of the habit of making an impression,” Enniok stated frivolously. - This is a rioting dead man. But I'll leave you. I'll be there in five minutes.
He went downstairs to his room, locked the cabin door from the inside, sat down in a chair, closed his eyes and did not move. There was a knock on the door. Enniok stood up.
“I’m going,” he said, “I’m going now.” - The half-length portrait hanging over the bed seemed to keep him indecisive. - He looked at him, snapped his fingers defiantly and laughed. “I’m still going, Carmen,” said Enniok.
Opening the door, he went out. The dark-haired portrait answered his tenacious, heavy gaze with a simple, light smile.
The coastal wind, full of fragrant forest dampness, penetrated my ears and lungs; It seemed as if invisible armfuls of grass and flowering branches were falling at my feet, touching my face. Gnor was sitting on a box unloaded from the boat, Enniok stood by the water.
“I thought,” said Gnor, “that the hermit Asha would arrange a small meeting for us.” Perhaps he died long ago?
- Well, no. - Enniok looked down at Gnor and bent down, picking up a small stone. - Look, I'll make a lot of ricochets. - He swung, the stone jumped across the water and disappeared. - What? Five? No, I think at least nine. Gnor, I want to be small, I have this strange desire from time to time; I don't give in to him.
- Don't know. I don't know you. Maybe that's good.
- Perhaps, but not quite. - Enniok walked up to the boat, took the gun out of the case and slowly loaded it. - Now I will shoot twice, this is the signal. He will hear us and appear.
Raising the muzzle up, Enniok unloaded both barrels; The loud crash was repeated twice and disappeared with a vague echo in the forest. Gnor shook his head thoughtfully.
“This salute to loneliness, Enniok,” he said, “for some reason worries me.” I want to have a long conversation with a resident of Asha. I don't know who he is; you spoke about him cursorily and dryly, but his fate, I don’t know why, touches and saddens me; I'm anxiously awaiting his appearance. When he comes... I...
A sharp wrinkle, a sign of intense attention, crossed Enniok's forehead. Gnor continued:
- I'll persuade him to come with us.
Enniok laughed intensely.
“Nonsense,” he said, biting his mustache, “he won’t go.”
- I'll ask him.
- He will be silent.
- Ask about the past. There is a guiding light in the past.
- The past has finished him off. And the light went out.
- Let him love the future, the unknown that makes us live.
“Your impulse,” said Enniok, dancing with one leg, “your impulse will be broken, like a piece of chalk breaking on the head of a stupid student.” “Really,” he exclaimed with animation, “is it worth thinking about the eccentric?” His days among people would be banal and unbearably boring, but here he is not without a certain, albeit very dim, aura. Let's leave him.
“Okay,” Gnor stubbornly objected, “I’ll tell him how wonderful life is, and if his hand has never been extended for a friendly shake or a loving caress, he can turn his back on me.”
- Under no circumstances will he do this.
“He’s gone,” Gnor said sadly. - He died or is hunting at the other end of the island.
Enniok did not seem to hear Gnor; slowly raising his hands to run them over his pale face, he looked straight ahead with a gaze full of concentrated reflection. He struggled; it was a short, belated struggle, a miserable fight. She weakened and irritated him. A minute later he said firmly and almost sincerely:
“I’m rich, but I would give everything, even my life, just to be in this man’s place.”
“It’s dark,” Gnor smiled, “it’s dark, like under a blanket.” It's interesting.
- I'll tell you about myself. - Enniok put his hand on Gnor’s shoulder. - Listen. Today I want to talk incessantly. I'm deceived. I suffered a great deception. It was a long time ago; I sailed with a load of cloth to Batavia, and we were blown to pieces. About ten days after this began, I lay across a hastily tied raft, stomach down. I had neither the strength nor the desire to get up, stretch, or do anything. Delirium began; I dreamed of lakes of fresh water, shook with fever and moaned softly for entertainment. The storm that destroyed the ship became calm. The heat and the ocean cooked me; the raft stood motionless, like a float in a pond, I was starving, suffocating and waiting for death. The wind blew again. At night I woke up from the pangs of thirst; there was darkness and noise. Blue lightning streaked the space; I, along with the raft, was thrown up - towards the clouds, then down - into liquid black pits. I smashed my chin on the edge of the board; Blood was running down my neck. It's morning. At the edge of the sky, in the continuously blinking light of the heavenly cracks, foamy greenish shafts were irresistibly drawn towards the distant clouds; black curls of tornadoes rushed among them; Above them, like a flock of maddened birds, low clouds crowded - everything was confused. I was delirious; delirium changed everything. Endless crowds of black women with their hands raised to the sky rushed upward; the boiling heap of them touched the heavens; From the sky, in the red gaps of the clouds, naked, pink and white women fell down in transparent chaos. Illuminated balls of bodies, intertwining and breaking apart, whirling like a whirlwind or flying down like a stone, connected the sky and the ocean in their continuous movement. They were scattered by a woman with golden skin. It lay like a bizarre cloud above the distant fog. I was saved by oncoming fishermen, I was almost alive, shaking and saying stupid things. I recovered, and then I was very bored; those days of dying in the ocean, in a delirium full of gentle fiery ghosts, poisoned me. It was a wonderful and terrible dream - a great deception.
He fell silent, and Gnor thought about his story.
- Typhoon - life? - Gnor asked. - But who lives like this?
- He. - Enniok nodded his head towards the forest and laughed badly. - He has a woman with golden skin. Do you hear anything? No? Neither do I. Okay, I'll shoot again.
He took the gun, twirled it in his hands for a long time, but put it under his arm.
- There's no point in shooting. - Enniok threw the gun over his shoulder. - Let me leave you. I'll go ahead a little and find him. If you want, let's go together. I won't make you walk much.
They set off. Enniok in front, Gnor behind. There were no paths or traces; my legs were stuck up to my knees in the bluish-yellow grass; The equatorial forest resembled giant greenhouses, where the storm blew away transparent roofs, erased the boundaries of the efforts of nature and man, revealing to the amazed vision the creativity of primitive forms, so akin to our earthly concepts of the wonderful and strange. This forest in every leaf breathed the power of unconscious, original and daring life, a bright challenge and reproach; the person who got here felt the need to remain silent.
Enniok stopped in the center of the lawn. Forest bluish shadows furrowed his face, changing the expression of his eyes.
Gnor was waiting.
- There is no need for you to go further. - Enniok stood with his back to Gnor. - Not far away... he... I wouldn’t want to immediately and greatly surprise him by appearing together. Here are the cigars.
Gnor nodded his head. Enniok's back, bent, dived into the thorny stems of plants intertwining the trees; he rustled the leaves and disappeared.
Gnor looked around, lay down, put his hands under his head and began to look up.
The blue shine of the sky, covered above his head by dense, huge leaves, teased him with a lush, blue kingdom. Enniok's back stood before my eyes for some time in its final movement; then, giving way to a conversation with Carmen, she disappeared. “Carmen, I love you,” said Gnor, “I want to kiss you on the lips. Can you hear from there?”
An attractive image suddenly became clear to his intense feelings, almost embodied. It was a small, dark, beautiful head; Smiling touched, Gnor cupped her cheeks with his palms, looked lovingly at her and let her go. Childish impatience gripped him. He calculated approximately the period separating them, and conscientiously reduced it by half, then by another quarter. This pitiful consolation forced him to get up - he felt it was impossible to lie further in a calm and comfortable position until he thought through his situation to the end.
The humid heat of the forest was drowsy. Lilac, purple and blue flowers swayed in the grass; the melancholy hum of a bumblebee entangled in mossy stems could be heard; the birds, flying across the depths of distant openings, burst into cries reminiscent of a black orchestra. Magic light, the play of colored shadows and the stupor of greenery surrounded Gnor; the earth silently breathed deeply - a brooding land of deserts, meek and menacing, like the loving cry of an animal. A faint noise was heard to the side; Gnor turned around, listening, almost certain of the immediate appearance of a stranger, an inhabitant of the island. He tried to imagine his appearance. “This must be a very reserved and arrogant person, he has nothing to lose,” Gnor said.
The birds fell silent; the silence seemed to oscillate in thought; it was Gnor's own indecisiveness; After waiting and unable to bear it, he shouted:
- Enniok, I’m waiting for you in the same place!
The unresponsive forest listened to these words and added nothing to them. The walk had so far given Gnor nothing but tiresome and fruitless tension. He stood for a while, thinking that Enniok had forgotten the direction, then slowly moved back towards the shore. An inexplicable strong anxiety drove him away from the forest. He walked quickly, trying to understand where Enniok had disappeared; Finally, the simplest explanation satisfied him: the unknown man and Enniok were carried away by the conversation.
“I’ll tie the boat,” said Gnor, remembering that it was barely pulled onto the sand. - They will come.
The water, permeated with the shine of wet sandbanks, sparkled in front of him through the edge, but there was no boat. The box was in its old place. Gnor approached the water and to the left, where a motley cliff line divided the shore, he saw a boat.
Enniok rowed, throwing the oars violently; he looked down and apparently did not notice Gnor.
- Enniok! - said Gnor; his voice sounded clearly in the silence of the transparent air. -Where are you going?! Didn't you hear me calling you?!
Enniok hit the oars sharply, did not raise his head and continued to swim. He seemed to be moving faster now than a minute ago; the distance between the rock and the boat became noticeably smaller. “The stone will hide him,” thought Gnor, “and then he won’t hear at all.”
- Enniok! - Gnor shouted again. - What do you want to do?
The swimmer raised his head, looking straight into Gnor’s face as if there was no one on the shore. The awkward and strange silence still continued, when suddenly, by chance, on the sparkling reddish sand Gnor read a phrase written with the muzzle of a gun or a piece of a stick: “Gnor, you will stay here. Remember the music, Carmen and billiards at dawn.”
The first thing Gnor felt was a dull ache in his heart, the urge to laugh, and anger. Memories against the ashes threw him dizzyingly quickly back into the past; a legion of little things, at one time insignificant or fragmentary, flashed in the memory, grew stronger, crumbled and took their places in the cycle of bygone days with the confidence of soldiers during an alarm, rushing to their places upon hearing the bugler's horn. Naked, nodding persuasiveness stared into Gnor's face. “Enniok, Carmen, I,” Gnor grabbed on the fly. “I didn’t see, I was blind; so...”
He slowly walked away from what he had written, as if a failure had opened before him. Gnor stood near the water, bending down to get a better look at Enniok; he believed and did not believe; it seemed madness to him to believe. His head endured a series of ringing blows of fear and was filled with noise; the jubilant ocean became vile and disgusting.
- Enniok! - Gnor said in a firm and clear voice - the last effort of his poisoned will. - Did you write this?
Silence lasted for several seconds. “Yes,” said the wind. This word was pronounced in exactly the tone that Gnor was expecting - cynical. He clenched his hands, trying to stop his fingers from shaking nervously; the sky was quickly darkening; the ocean, dissected on the horizon by cloudy duckweed, began to spin, swaying in the falling fog. Gnor entered the water, he moved unconsciously. The wave covered his knees, thighs, and encircled his chest, Gnor stopped. He was now five steps closer to the boat; his ruined, exploded consciousness convulsively shook off the weight of the moment and weakened, like a condemned man pushing away a rope.
- This is meanness. “He looked with wide eyes and did not move. The water slowly swayed around him, spinning his head and gently pushing him. - Enniok, you did something mean, come back!
“No,” said Enniok. This word sounded casually, like a shopkeeper’s answer.
Gnor raised his revolver and carefully took aim. The shot did not stop Enniok; he rowed, quickly leaning back; the second bullet pierced the oar; Enniok released it, caught it and bent down, waiting for more bullets. This movement conveyed the condescending resignation of an adult who allows a child to beat him with harmless little hands.
The trigger clicked a third time over the water; an invincible weakness of apathy seized Gnor; as if paralyzed, he lowered his hand, continuing to look. The boat crawled behind the stone, the crawling stern was still visible for a while, then everything disappeared.
Gnor came ashore.
“Carmen,” said Gnor, “does he love you too?” I won't go crazy, I have a woman with golden skin... Her name is Carmen. You, Enniok, are mistaken!
He paused, concentrated on what awaited him, and continued to talk to himself, objecting to the cruel voices of his heart, pushing him towards despair: “They will take me out of here. Sooner or later a ship will come. It will be one of these days. In a month. In two months.” . - He bargained with fate. - “I’ll make the boat myself. I won’t die here. Carmen, do you see me? I stretch out my hands to you, touch them with mine, I’m scared.”
The pain gave way to indignation. Gritting his teeth, he thought about Enniok. An angry frenzy tormented him. “Shameless fox, reptile,” said Gnor, “there will still be time to look each other in the face.” Then what happened seemed to him like a dream, delirium, absurdity. The sand crunched underfoot, real sand. "Any sailing ship can come here. It will be one of these days. Tomorrow. In many years. Never."
This word struck him with the deadly precision of its meaning. Gnor fell face down on the sand and burst into angry, fiery tears, the heavy tears of a man. The surf increased; the lazy roll of the wave said in a loud whisper: “The Hermit Asha.”
“Asha,” repeated the sand, boiling.
The man didn't move. The sun, gravitating towards the west, touched the rock, splashed its dark face with liquid fire and cast shadows on the coast of Asha - the evening sadness of the earth. Gnor stood up.
“Enniok,” he said in his usual quiet, chesty voice, “I yield to time and necessity.” My life is not finished. It's a good old game; it is not suitable to be thrown from the middle, and days are not cards; over their corpses, dying here, my priceless days, I swear to you to tighten the torn ends so tightly that your hand will ache from the effort, and your neck will wheeze in this knot. The wind is rising. He will convey my oath to you and Carmen!
A strong storm that broke out in the center of the Archipelago gave a good shake to the three-masted brig, which bore an unexpected name, not very suitable for the harsh profession of ships - “Sea Grasshopper”. This brig, with tattered rigging, wounded in the sails, topmasts and water line, was thrown far away from the usual trade route. At dawn the land appeared. The only surviving anchor crashed to the bottom. The day passed in the usual work after accidents, and only in the evening everyone, from the captain to the cook, could give themselves some account of their situation. This laconic report was fully expressed in three words: “Devil knows what!”
“Rose,” said the captain, experiencing genuine suffering, “this is a ship’s magazine, and there is no place for various tricks in it.” Why did you, empty bottle, draw this birdhouse?
- Skvoreshnik! - The remark embarrassed Rose, but his offended pride immediately treated the embarrassment with a good kick. - Where have you seen such birdhouses? This is a young lady. I'll cross it out.
Captain Mard completely closed his left eye, causing his right one to become unbearably contemptuous. Roz slammed his fist on the table, but resigned himself.
- I crossed it out by making a blot; smell it if you can't see it. The magazine is wet.
“That’s true,” said Mard, fingering the damp, laced sheets. - A wave lashed into the cabin. I got wet too. Akhter-Steven and I were equally wet. And you, Alligu?
The third of this group, almost falling from exhaustion on the table at which he was sitting, said:
- I want to sleep.
There was a lantern hanging in the cabin, illuminating the three heads with shadows and the light of ancient portraits. The corners of the room, littered with stacked folding chairs, clothes and tools, resembled a junk dealer's basement. The brig rocked; The irritation of the ocean does not subside immediately. Having missed the victim, he snorts and winces. Mard leaned his elbows on the table, bending his horse's face, shining with intelligent, frowning eyes, towards the blank page of the magazine. He had almost no mustache, and his chin resembled a miniature block of stone. Mard's right hand, swollen from a bruise, hung on a towel.
Roz began to move his pen in the air, making zigzags and arabesques; he waited.
“Well, write,” said Mard, “write: thrown to the devil, no one knows why; write like this... - He began to breathe heavily, every effort of thought terribly constrained him. - Wait. I can’t come to my senses, Alligu, I still seem to be thrown against the platform, and above me Roz is trying in vain to hold the steering wheel. I don't like this bad water.
“There was a storm,” Alligu said, waking up and falling back into a sleepy state. - There was a storm.
“Fresh wind,” Roz corrected methodically. - Fresh... Mere nonsense.
- Hurricane.
- A simple prank of the atmosphere.
- Water and air earthquake.
- An empty breeze.
- Breeze! - Alligu deigned to wake up and, falling asleep, said again: - If it was, as you say, a simple breeze, then I am no longer Alligu.
Mard tried to gesture with his bruised right hand, but turned purple with pain and became angry.
“The ocean coughed,” he said, “and spat us out... Where?” Where are we? And what are we now?
“The sun has set,” said the boatswain who entered the cabin. - We'll find out everything tomorrow morning. A thick fog rose; the wind is weaker.
Roz put down his pen.
“Write—write like that,” he said, “or else I’ll close the journal.”
Alligu woke up for the thirty-second time.
“You,” he yawned with that voluptuous grace that makes a chair crack, “forgot about the pantsless fireman on the Steel Raid.” What did it cost to transport the poor fellow? He asked so nicely. Do you have extra beds and crackers? You refused him, Mard, he sent you to hell out loud - to hell you came. There's no point in complaining.
Mard became filled with blood.
- Let thin-legged dandies with cambric handkerchiefs carry passengers; While I’m captain on the Sea Grasshopper, I won’t have this ballast. I'm a sail truck.
“It will be,” Alligu said.
- Don't annoy me.
- Let's bet out of boredom.
- What is the deadline?
- Year.
- OK. How much do you bet?
- Twenty.
- Few. Do you want fifty?
“It doesn’t matter,” Alligu said, “the money is mine, you’re not lucky enough to make easy money.” I'm sleeping.
“They want me,” said Mard, “to cut off the passenger.” Nonsense!
There was a stamping sound and a burst of laughter from the deck; the ocean echoed him with a mournful roar. The screams intensified: individual words penetrated the cabin, but it was impossible to understand what happened. Mard looked questioningly at the boatswain.
- What are they doing? - asked the captain. - What kind of fun?
- I'll take a look.
The boatswain left. Rose listened and said:
- The sailors returned from the shore.
Mard walked to the door, pushed it impatiently and held his hat blown in the wind. The dark silhouette of the ship hummed with excited, anxious voices; in the center of the crowd of sailors, a light shone on the quarterdeck; shoulders and heads blackened in the light. Mard pushed people aside.
- On what occasion is the ball? - said Mard. The lantern stood at his feet, the light falling on the deck. Everyone was silent.
Then, looking straight ahead, the captain saw the face of a stranger, a dark, trembling face with motionless sparkling eyes. He didn't have a hat. Her dark hair fell below her shoulders. He was dressed in a heavily wrinkled suit of urban cut and high boots. The unknown man's gaze quickly moved from face to face; the gaze is tenacious, like a strong grasping hand.
The astonished Mard scratched his left cheek and sighed noisily; anxiety shook him.
- Who are you? - asked Mard. - Where?
“I am Gnor,” said the unknown man. - The sailors brought me. I lived here.
- How? - Mard asked, forgetting about his sore hand; he could barely restrain himself from bursting out in a cry at the meeting, which tormented him with its mystery. The face of the unknown man made the captain wince. He didn't understand anything. - What are you saying?
“I am Gnor,” said the unknown man. - Your boat brought me... I am Gnor...
Mard looked at the sailors. Many smiled the tense, awkward smile of people gripped by burning curiosity. The boatswain stood on Mard's left hand. He was serious. Mard was not used to silence and could not stand riddles, but, contrary to his habit, he did not flare up: the quiet darkness, full of sadness and large stars, stopped his outburst with a strange power, palpable, like a sharp command.
“I’ll burst,” said Mard, “if I don’t find out now what’s going on.” Speak.
The crowd began to stir; An elderly sailor stepped out.
“He,” the sailor began, “shot at me twice and once at Kent.” We didn't hit him. He was walking towards me. Four of us were carrying firewood. It was still light when he was caught. Kent, seeing him, was at first frightened, then shouted to me; we went together. He stepped out of a stone crack against the water. His clothes were completely different from what they are now. I have never seen such rags before. The fur on it stuck out from its skins, like grass on a rotten roof.
“This is a small island,” said Gnor. - I've been living here for a long time. Eight years. It's difficult for me to speak. I have been silent a lot and for a long time. Out of habit.
He carefully separated the words, rarely giving them the desired expression, and at times making pauses, during which his lips did not stop moving.
The sailor looked at Gnor in fear and turned to Mard.
“He fired a revolver, then covered himself with his hand, screamed and fired again. I was hit on the head and fell down, thinking that he would stop. Kent ran towards him, but when he heard the third shot, he jumped to the side. He didn't shoot again. I knocked him down. He seemed happy about it because he didn't take offense. We dragged him to the boat, he laughed. Here, right next to the water, an easy explanation began. I couldn't understand anything, then Kent talked some sense into me. “He wants,” said Kent, “for us to let him change his clothes.” I almost burst out laughing. However, without letting him go one step, we set off where he led us - and what do you think?.. He had, you know, a small wardrobe in a stone box, kind of like my chest. While he was putting on his outfit and bandaging the lump on his head, “listen,” Kent told me, “he’s one of the castaways, “I’ve heard such stories.” Then this man took my hand and kissed it, and then Kent. I must admit, I felt bad at heart, because I hit him twice when I overtook him...
“Why did you,” said Mard, “why did you shoot at them?” Explain.
Gnor looked beyond Mard's stern face - into the darkness.
“Understand,” he said in a special way that made many flinch with the effort of his voice, “eight years.” I am alone. Sun, sand, forest. Silence. One evening the fog rose. Listen: I saw a boat; she came from the sea; there were six people in it. The sand is noisy. People came ashore, calling me, laughing and waving their hands. I ran, out of breath, could not say a word, there were no words. They all stood on the shore... living faces, like you now. They disappeared when I was within five steps of them. The boat was carried away by the fog. The fog cleared. Everything is the same. Sun, sand, silence. And the sea is all around.
The sailors crowded together closely, some stood on tiptoes, breathing down the backs of their heads. Others turned around, as if seeking to share the impression with a being higher than man. The silence reached extreme tension. A hoarse voice said:
- Be silent.
“Be silent,” said another. - Let him talk.
“It happened many times,” Gnor continued. “I ended up taking shots.” The sound of the shot destroyed the vision. After that, I usually couldn’t eat for the whole day. Today I didn't believe it; as always, no more. It's hard to be alone.
Mard stroked his sore arm.
- What is your name?
- Gnor.
- How old are you?
- Twenty eight.
- Who are you?
- Son of an engineer.
- How did you get here?
“I’ll tell you alone about this,” Gnor said reluctantly.
Their voices sank firmly and heavily into the darkness of the sea: gloomy - one, sonorous - another; voices of different people.
“You are cleanly dressed,” Mard continued, “this is incomprehensible to me.”
“I saved myself,” said Gnor, “for better times.”
-Did you also shave?
- Yes.
-What did you eat?
- What will happen.
- What did you hope for?
- On myself.
- And on us too?
- Less than for yourself. - Gnor smiled quietly but expressively, and all faces reflected his smile. - You could meet a corpse, an idiot and a person. I'm not a corpse or an idiot.
Roz, standing behind Gnor, grabbed him firmly on the shoulder and, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, blew his nose shrilly; he was delighted.
Alligu's ironic gaze fell on Marda. They looked into each other's eyes like augurs, perfectly understanding what was going on. “You lost, it seems,” said the navigator’s face. “I’ll wrap it around my finger,” answered Mard’s gaze.
“Come here,” the captain said to Gnor. - Follow me. We'll talk downstairs.
They left the circle; many eyes followed the tall silhouette of Gnor. A minute later there were three groups on deck, talking in low voices about the secrets of the sea, superstitions, the souls of the dead, the lost land, the fiery brig from California. Fourteen adult children, making scary eyes and coughing mysteriously, told each other about the signs of pirates, about the wanderings of a cursed barrel of vodka, the fishy smell of sirens, an underwater grotto full of gold bars. Their imagination, having received a thunderous shock, went head over heels. Recently, they were still waiting for an inexorable and certain death, they forgot about it; there was danger in everyday life; it was not worth talking about.
The light of a forgotten lantern revealed from the darkness the tightly battened hatch of the hold, the sides and the lower part of the shrouds. Alligu raised the lantern; shadows jumped overboard.
- Is it you, Mard? - said Alligu, bringing the lantern closer to the face of the walker. - Yes, it’s you, the calf is not mistaken. And him?
“It’s all right,” Mard answered defiantly. - Don't worry, Alligu.
- Okay, but you lost.
- Or maybe you?
“How,” objected the surprised navigator, “will you leave him to live out here?” Aren't you afraid of a riot?
“And I’m not a stone,” said Mard. - He told me a vile thing... No, I won’t talk about it now. Although...
“Well,” Alligu shuffled with impatience. - Money in the barrel!
- Leave me alone!
- Then let me congratulate you on being a passenger.
- With a passenger? - Mard moved towards the lantern, and Alligu saw a maliciously triumphant face. - Most seductive and precious Alligu, you are mistaken. I hired him for two months as the keeper of my wedding candlesticks, and paid the salary in advance, for which I have a receipt; remember this, fierce Alligu, and be healthy.
“Well, okay,” said the navigator, dumbfounded, after an unpleasant long silence. - Okay, deduct it from my salary.
A man was sitting on the windowsill. He looked down from the height of the third floor at the evening bustle of the street. The house, the pavement and the man trembled from the roar of the carriages.
The man sat for a long time, until the black corners of the roofs sank into the blackness of the night. The street lights below cast living shadows; the shadows of passers-by caught up with each other, the shadow of a horse moved its legs. Small spots of carriage lanterns rushed silently along the pavement. The black hole of the alley, full of fantastic silhouettes, yellow from the fire of the windows, street whistles and noise, resembled the rat life of a garbage pit, illuminated by a rusty rag picker's lantern.
The man jumped from the windowsill, but soon found a new activity. He began to close and open the electricity, trying to get his gaze to a pre-designated point in the wallpaper; the room sparkled and disappeared, obeying the click of a switch. The man was very bored.
It is unknown what he would have done after that if he had been left alone for the rest of the evening. For some time now it had been a quiet pleasure for him to sit at home, spending aimless days, devoid of worries and entertainment, interesting thoughts and deeds, looking out the window, sorting through old letters, separating himself with them from the present; he was not drawn anywhere, and he did not want anything; he had a good appetite, sound sleep; his internal state resembled in miniature the yawn of a man who was tired of a Chinese puzzle and had finally given up this activity.
Life is so tiring and this is how fatigue affects many; the soul and body are content with trifles, responding to everything with a grimace of dull indifference. Enniok thought about this question and found that he was getting old. But even this was indifferent to him.
There was a knock on the door: first quietly, then louder.
“Come in,” Enniok said.
The man who crossed the threshold stopped in front of Enniok, closing the door with his hand behind him and leaning slightly, in a pose of tense anticipation. Enniok looked at him intently and retreated into a corner; he was unable to forget this face, muscular, with a small chin and mouth.
The one who entered, standing at the door, filled the world with himself - and Enniok, staggering from the alarm beating in his head, clearly saw this face as it had been before, long ago. His heart stopped beating for one unbearable moment; Dead and lost, he silently rubbed his hands. Gnor sighed loudly.
“It’s you,” he said dully. - You, Enniok. Well, here we are together. I'm glad.
Two people, standing opposite each other, turned sadly pale, smiling with a smile of clenched mouths.
- Broke out! - Enniok shouted. It was the painful cry of a wounded man. He hit the table hard with his fist, breaking his hand; Having gathered all his willpower, he mastered, as far as possible, his dancing nerves and straightened up. He was beside himself.
- It's you! - Gnor repeated enjoying himself. - Here you are. From head to toe, full length. Keep quiet. I've been waiting eight years for this meeting. - His nervous, enraged face was twitching with a spasm. - Were you waiting for me?
- No. - Enniok approached Gnor. - You know, this is a disaster. - Having curbed his fear, he suddenly changed dramatically and became as usual. - I'm lying. I'm very glad to see you, Gnor.
Gnor laughed.
- Enniok, you are hardly happy to see me. There are many, too many feelings and thoughts rising in the soul... If only I could bring everything down on your head at once! Enough screaming. I became silent.
He paused; a terrible calm, similar to the stillness of a working steam boiler, gave him the strength to speak further.
“Enniok,” said Gnor, “let’s continue our game.”
- I live in a hotel. - Enniok shrugged his shoulders as a sign of regret. - It’s inconvenient to disturb neighbors. Shots are not very popular music. But of course we will invent something.
Gnor did not answer; With his head down, he thought about the fact that he might not get out of here alive. “But I will be completely right - and Carmen will know about it. A piece of lead will comprehend all my eight years, like a point.”
Enniok looked at him for a long time. Curiosity is inextinguishable.
- How are you?.. - Enniok wanted to ask; Gnor interrupted him.
- Does it matter? I'm here. And you - how did you cover your mouths?
“Money,” Enniok said briefly.
“You are scary to me,” Gnor spoke. - In appearance, I may be calm now, but I feel stuffy and cramped with you; the air you breathe disgusts me. You are more than an enemy to me - you are my horror. You can look at me as much as you want. I'm not one to forgive.
- Why forgiveness? - said Enniok. - I'm always ready to pay. Words are now powerless. We were caught in a hurricane; whoever does not break his forehead is right.
He lit a cigar with slightly trembling fingers and took a deep drag, swallowing the smoke greedily.
- Let's cast lots.
Enniok nodded his head, called and said to the footman:
- Give me wine, cigars and cards.
Gnor sat down at the table; a painful numbness chained him to a chair; he sat for a long time, drooping, clasping his hands between his knees, trying to imagine how everything would happen; the tray clinked at his elbow; Enniok moved away from the window.
“We will do everything decently,” he said without raising his voice. - This wine is older than you, Gnor; you languished in the forests, kissed Carmen, studied and were born, and it was already lying in the cellar. - He poured a glass for himself and Gnor, trying not to spill it. - We, Gnor, love the same woman. She chose you; and my passion therefore grew to monstrous proportions. And this may be my excuse. And you hit the nail on the head.
“Enniok,” Gnor spoke, “it only now occurred to me that under other circumstances we might not have been enemies.” But this is true, by the way. I demand justice. Tears and blood rush into my head at the thought of what I suffered. But I survived - thank God, and I put life against life. I have something to risk again - through no fault of yours. I have a lot of gray hair, and I’m not yet thirty. I looked for you hard and for a long time, working like a horse to get money, moving from city to city. I dreamed about you. You and Carmen.
Enniok sat opposite him; holding the glass in his left hand, he unsealed the deck with his right.
- Black will answer for everything.
- Fine. - Gnor extended his hand. - Let me start. And before that I'll have a drink.
Taking a glass and sipping, he pulled a card. Enniok held his hand, saying:
- The deck is not shuffled.
He began to shuffle the cards, stirred them for a long time, then fanned them out on the table, side up.
- If you want, you are the first.
Gnor took the card without hesitation - the first one that came to hand.
- Take it.
Enniok chose from the middle, wanted to take a look, but changed his mind and looked at his partner. Their eyes met. Everyone's hand was on the map. It was not so easy to lift her. Enniok's fingers did not obey him. He made an effort to make them obey and threw away the ace of hearts. The red point flashed like lightning, joyfully for one, gloomy for the other.
“Six of diamonds,” said Gnor, opening his. - Let's start again.
- It's like a double shot. - Enniok waved his fingers over the deck and, after hesitating, took the outermost one. “That one was lying next to her,” Gnor noted, “that one will be mine.”
“Worms and diamonds glow in your eyes,” said Enniok, “spades in mine.” “He calmed down, the first card was worse, but he felt somewhere inside that it would end badly for him. - Open it first, I want to prolong the pleasure.
Gnor raised his hand, showed the jack of hearts and threw it onto the table. A convulsion squeezed his throat; but he restrained himself, only his eyes flashed with strange and creepy fun.
“That’s right,” said Enniok, “my map is heavy; the premonition, it seems, will not deceive. Two of spades.
He tore it into many shreds, threw it up - and the white streams, streaking the air, settled on the table in white, uneven spots.
“Death to the two,” said Enniok, “death to me too.”
Gnor looked at him intently, stood up and put on his hat. There was no pity in his soul, but the feeling of someone else's imminent death forced him to experience a bad moment. He strengthened himself with memories; the pale days of despair, rising from the grave of Asha, surrounded Gnor in a menacing round dance; he's right.
“Enniok,” Gnor said cautiously, “I won and am leaving.” Pay your debt to fate without me. But I have a request: tell me, why did the three of us wake up on the same day, when you, apparently, had already decided my fate? You don’t have to answer, I don’t insist.
“This is a flower from Vancouver,” Enniok did not immediately answer, taking the third cigar. - I'll make you something like a little confession. The flower was brought by me; I don't remember its name; it is small, green, with brown stamens. The corolla blooms every day in the morning, curling up at eleven. The day before I told the one I continue to love. "Get up early, I'll show you the whims of the plant world." You know Carmen, Gnor; It is difficult for her to deny another a small pleasure. Besides, it's really interesting. In the morning she was like a flower herself; we went out onto the terrace; I was carrying a box with a plant in my hands. The locust-like corolla slowly spread its petals. They straightened out, tensed - and the flower began to sway in the breeze. He was not exactly beautiful, but original. Carmen looked and smiled. “He’s breathing,” she said, “he’s so small.” Then I took her hand and said what had been tormenting me for a long time; I told her about my love. She blushed, looking at me point blank and shaking her head. Her face told me more than the old word “no,” to which women had not taught me at all. “No,” she said coldly, “this is impossible. Goodbye.” She stood there for a while, thinking, then went into the garden. I caught up with her sick from grief and continued to say - I don’t know what. “Come to your senses,” she said. Beside myself with passion, I hugged her and kissed her. She froze; I pressed her to my heart and kissed her on the lips, but her strength immediately returned, she screamed and broke away. That's how it was. I could only take revenge - on you; I took revenge. Rest assured that if you were to stumble over the black suit, I would not stop you.
“I know that,” Gnor countered calmly. “We can’t live together in this world.” Farewell.
Childhood lives in a person to the point of gray hair - Enniok held Gnor with his gaze and blocked the door.
“You,” he said proudly, “you, flexible human steel, must remember that you had a worthy opponent.”
“That’s right,” Gnor answered dryly, “a slap in the face and a handshake - with this I would express all of you.” For a well-known reason, I do not do the first. Take the second one.
They held out their hands, clasping each other's fingers; it was a strange, angry and brooding grip of powerful enemies.
Their last glance was interrupted by the door closed by Gnor; Enniok lowered his head.
“I am left with this feeling,” he whispered, “as if there had been a noisy, dizzying, menacingly beautiful ball; it lasted a long time and everyone was tired. The guests left, the owner was left alone; One by one the candles go out, darkness is coming.
He walked up to the table, scattered the cards, found a revolver, and scratched his temple with the barrel. The touch of cold steel against burning skin was almost pleasant. Then he began to remember life and was surprised: everything in it seemed old-fashioned and stupid.
“I could deceive him,” said Enniok, “but I’m not used to running and hiding.” And this would be inevitable. Why? I took everything I wanted from life, except for one thing. And on this “one” he broke his neck. No, everything turned out somehow quite opportunely and impressively.
“Stupid death,” Enniok continued, turning the cylinder of his revolver. - It's boring to die like that from a shot. I can invent something. What - I don’t know; I need to go for a walk.
He quickly got dressed, went out and began to wander the streets. In the native quarters oil lanterns made of red and blue paper burned; it stank of burnt oil, garbage, greasy dust. Sticky darkness filled the alleys; lonely handcarts clattered; the fantastic contours of the temples glowed with rare lights. The pavement, strewn with fruit peels, straw and scraps of newspaper, surrounded the bases of the street lamps with light disks; passers-by scurried about; tall women, muffled up to the nose, walked at a slow pace; their black eyes, covered with a damp shine, called to the worn-out mats, a bunch of naked children and the family’s dirty rooster, stroking his beard over a glass of orange water.
Enniok walked, getting used to the idea of imminent death. Around the corner came the melancholy groan of a native drum, the piercing wail of horns, and hellish music accompanied the nightly religious procession. Immediately a dense crowd poured out from behind the old house; in front, the holy fools scurried about, grimacing and waving sticks; a cloud of boys wandered to the side; small lanterns, images of saints, crouched dark idols, reminiscent of fierce babies in the womb, swung on tall carved sticks; a half-lit sea of heads crowded around them, screaming and sobbing; the dull gilding of the wood shone; metal banners, touching each other, rang and rattled.
Enniok stopped and grinned: a daring thought occurred to him. Deciding to die noisily, he quickly looked for the most respectable old man, hung with rattles. The old man had a stern, excited and prayerful face; Enniok laughed; severe heartbeats made breathing difficult for a moment; then, feeling that his connection with life was collapsing and a dark horror was spinning his head, he rushed into the middle of the crowd.
The procession stopped; dark shoulders pushed Enniok from all sides; the mixed hot breath, the smell of sweat and wax stunned him, he staggered, but did not fall, raised his hands and, shaking the idol he had snatched from the old man, shouted with all his might:
- Dancers, naked monkeys! Spit on your little trees! You are very funny, but you are boring!
The ferocious roar excited him; in a frenzy, no longer aware of what he was doing, he threw the idol at the first brown face, distorted with anger; The clay god, meeting the pavement, scattered into pieces. At the same time, a cutting blow to the face knocked down Enniok; an explosion of rage swept over him; the body trembled and stretched out.
Taking the final finishing blows of the fanatics, Enniok, covering his head, covered in blood, with his hands, heard a clear voice coming as if from afar; This voice repeated his own recent words:
- The ball is over, the guests have left, the owner is left alone. And darkness covers the halls.
“Man has power over the past, present and future.”
Thinking this, Gnor turned to the past. There was youth there; gentle, soul-illuminating voices of clear love; the tempting dizzying eeriness of a life that sounds more and more joyful; a dark hell of grief - eight years of shock, frenzied thirst, tears and curses, a monstrous, ugly lot; leprosy of time; a mountain falling on a child; sun, sand, silence. Days and nights of prayers addressed to yourself: “Save yourself”!
He now stood as if on the top of a mountain, still breathing quickly and tiredly, but with a resting body and a relaxed soul. The past lay in the west, in the land of bright exclamations and ugly shadows; he looked there for a long time, everything had one name - Carmen.
And, having forgiven the past, destroying it, he left one name - Carmen.
In the present, Gnor saw himself, burned by silent love, by the suffering of many years, petrified in one desire, stronger than law and joy. He was obsessed with melancholy, increasing his strength to bear it day by day. This was the south of life, its sultry afternoon; hot blue shadows, thirst and the noise of an as yet invisible spring. Everything had one name - Carmen. He had only one thing in the present - a name filled with excitement, the idolized name of a woman with golden skin - Carmen.
The future is the red east, the morning wind, a star dying over a wonderful fog, the joyful cheerfulness of the dawn, the tears and laughter of the earth; the future could have only one single name - Carmen.
Gnor stood up. The ringing weight of seconds suffocated him. From time to time, the full fire of consciousness brought him to his feet at full height in front of the closed door of happiness that had not yet arrived; he remembered that he was here, in this house, where everything was familiar and everything was in terrible proximity to him, and he himself was a stranger and would be a stranger until the one for whom he was his own, dear, close, lost, came out of the door , awaited, beloved.
Is this true? A sharp wave of thought fell, destroyed by excitement, and Gnor was tormented by a new, terrible thing that his soul rejected, like a religious person rejects blasphemy that obsessively drills into the brain. Eight years lay between them; Carmen had her own life, independent of him - and he had already seen her, having found happiness with another, remembering him occasionally in sleepy dreams or, perhaps, in moments of reverie, when sad dissatisfaction with life is interrupted by fleeting entertainment, the laughter of a guest, the worries of the day, interest of the moment. The room in which Gnor sat reminded him of his best days; low, twilight-colored furniture, pale walls, a pensive evening window, a half-lowered curtain with the light of the next room diving under it - everything lived the same way as he did - a painfully motionless life, frozen with anticipation. Gnor asked for only one thing - a miracle, a miracle of love, a meeting, a killing grief, a fiery blow - something about which the tongue is helplessly silent, since there is no joy in the world greater and more inexpressible than the excited face of a woman. He waited for her meekly, like a child; greedily, like a languid lover; menacingly and silently, as if restoring the right. In a second he lived through the years; a world full of patient love surrounded him; sick with hope, confused, smiling, Gnor, standing, waited - and the waiting deadened him.
The hand that threw back the curtain did something that was beyond Gnor's strength; he rushed forward and stopped, stepped back and became mute; everything that followed forever enslaved his memory. The same one who many years ago played him the first half of the old song entered the room. Her face stood out and multiplied tenfold for Gnor; he took her by the shoulders, not remembering himself, forgetting what he said; the sound of his own voice seemed wild and weak to him, and with a cry, with the inexpressible despair of happiness, taking dully and blindly the first caress, still painful from sobs, he bowed to Carmen’s feet, hugging them with a jealous ring of trembling, exhausted arms. Through the silk of his dress, the gentle warmth of his knees clung to his cheek; he reveled in it, pressed his head tighter and, with his face wet from frantic tears, remained silent, lost for everything.
Small soft hands rested on his head, pushed it away, grabbed it and hugged it.
“Gnor, my dear, my boy,” he heard after an eternity of blissful melancholy. - Is that you? I waited for you, waited for a long, long time, and you came.
“Be silent,” said Gnor, “let me die here, at your feet.” I can't hold back my tears, forgive me. What happened to me? Dream? No, worse. I don’t want to see your gaze yet, Carmen; don’t pick me up, I feel good like this, I’ve always been yours.
A thin, tall girl bent over to the man kissing her dress. Her face instantly and miraculously changed: beautiful before, it was now more than beautiful - the joyful, passionately living face of a woman. Like children, they sat on the floor, not noticing it, squeezing their hands, looking into each other’s faces, and everything that they both lived with before they met became empty for them.
- Gnor, where did you go, where is your life? I don’t hear, I don’t feel her... After all, she is mine, from the first to the last minute... What happened to you?
Gnor lifted the girl high in his arms, pressing her to him, kissing her eyes and lips; Her thin, strong hands held his head, without moving away, pulling him to her dark eyes.
“Carmen,” said Gnor, “it’s time to finish playing the aria.” I walked towards you with a long loving effort; take me, take my life, do what you want - I have lived out my life. Look at me, Carmen, look and remember. I am not the same, you are the same; but my soul will straighten out - and on the very first early morning there will be no longer our separation. Love will cover her. Don't ask; then, when this madness subsides - the madness of your knees, your body, you, your eyes and words, the first words in eight years - I will tell you a fairy tale and you will cry. No need to cry now. Let everyone live like this. Yesterday you played for me, and today I had a dream that we would never meet again. I turned gray from this dream - that means I love you. It's you, you!..
Their tears mixed once again - enviable, rare tears - and then, slowly pushing the girl away, Gnor, smiling, looked for the first time into her yearning, dear face, rushing towards him, pale from long calls.
“How could I live without you,” said Gnor, “now I don’t understand it.”
- I never thought that you died.
- You lived in my heart. We will always be together. I won't take one step away from you. - He kissed her eyelashes; they were wet, sweet and salty. - Don’t ask me anything, I don’t control myself yet. I forgot everything I wanted to tell you on my way here. Here are a few more tears, these are the last ones. I'm happy... but don't think about it. Forgive life, Carmen; she is a beggar in front of us. Let me hug you. Like this. And keep quiet.
Around that time, but, therefore, a little later than the scene we described, a passer-by was walking down the street - a clean-shaven gentleman with lively eyes; his attention was attracted by the sounds of music. In the depths of a large tall house, an unknown musician was playing on the piano the second half of an aria, well known to a passerby. The passer-by stopped, as unemployed people stop when they find fault with the first case, listened a little and walked on, humming the same song in a low voice:
Oblivion is a sad, deceptive sound,
Understandable only in the grave;
No past joy, no happiness, no torment
We have no power to consign to oblivion.
What has sunk into the soul will remain in it:
There is no deeper sea, no darker abyss.
Green A.S. Collection. cit.: In 6 vols. T. 1. M.: Pravda, 1980
