Green Alexandervoice and eye. Sketch “Talk about the Great”

SEARCHING FOR THE MEANING OF LIFE

If you are looking for a way to make your life meaningful -
start serving and helping other people.
And then the real meaning of life will be revealed to you.

Wally Amos

Creative task “Looking for the meaning of life”

Read the excerpt:

“What will they think of a man who is busily walking his way, but when asked where and why he is going, he will answer: I don’t know myself.

People behave in a similar way in relation to the most important path a person can take: the path of life. They undoubtedly see meaning in individual steps and actions: acquiring knowledge, serving a useful profession, creating works of art, bearing social responsibility, building a house, caring for their family or getting to know the world - all of this individually, of course, makes sense. But what is the meaning of everything together, the meaning of the Whole?”... (Ursula Namdar).

Divide the children into groups and ask them to formulate the meaning of a person's life path. Discuss with your children when a person should begin to look for the meaning of his life and what is needed for this.

• Should a person look for meaning in everything he does and why?
• When did you first think about the meaning of life?
• What in life would you like to change, and what are you doing for this?
• Can the meaning of a person’s life change over time, and what does this depend on?

Read the parable:

The philosophy professor took a large tin can, filled it to the top with large fragments of stones up to five centimeters in diameter, and asked the students if the can was full.

“Of course, it’s full,” the students answered.

Then the professor took a box of small pebbles, poured them on top of the stones and shook the jar slightly. The pebble fell into the free space between the stones.

The students laughed.

After that, the professor took a bag of sand and poured the sand into a jar. Undoubtedly, sand also seeped into the cracks that still remained between the stones and pebbles.

This jar is like a person’s life, the professor said, first we must fill it with the largest stones, these are the most important goals in our life, without which we cannot exist: love, faith, family, an interesting profession, raising children. Pebbles are less important purposes, but necessary for comfort. For example, your house, car, dacha. Sand is our daily concern. If we first pour sand into the jar, there will be no room left for stones and pebbles. Then our life will consist only of everyday vanity, but we will not achieve the most important and necessary. It is necessary to learn to focus our efforts on important things, without which life loses its meaning, for example, raising children. Sometimes we spend a lot of time earning money, cleaning, washing, cooking, communicating with neighbors, but at the same time we do not have enough time for our children; This means we fill our jar with sand, forgetting about large stones.

Questions and tasks for the parable:

• Ask the children to list all the things that could be the meaning of a person's life. All of the above is written on the board.
• Then children choose those items in which they see meaning for themselves and explain why.

Written work

Ask the children to remember all their activities and goals and write them down in three columns: “large stones,” “pebbles,” and “sand.” Then the children should analyze and write down which activities they devote more time to and why.

Read the excerpt:

A SEAGULL NAMED JONATHAN LIVINGSTON

(excerpt)

R. Bach

It was already the dead of night when Jonathan flew up to the Flock on the shore. He was dizzy and dead tired. But, descending, he happily made a loop. “When they hear about this,” he thought about the Breakthrough, “they will go crazy with joy. How much more complete life will become now! Instead of sadly scurrying between the shore and fishing boats - know why you live! We will end ignorance, we will become beings who have access to perfection and mastery. We will become free! We will learn to fly!

The future was filled to the limit, it promised so many tempting things!

When he landed, all the seagulls were assembled; because the Council began.

Jonathan, Jonathan! Come to the middle!

Jonathan Livingston, - said the Elder, - come out to the middle, you have covered yourself with Shame, in the face of your fellow tribesmen.

It was as if he had been hit with a board! My knees became weak, my feathers sagged, and my ears began to buzz. Circle of Shame? Can't be! Breakthrough! They didn't understand! They were wrong, they were wrong!

The Circle of Shame means expulsion from the Pack, he will be sentenced to live alone on the Far Rocks.

- ...the day will come, Jonathan Livingston, when you will understand that irresponsibility cannot feed you. We are not given the opportunity to comprehend the meaning of life, because it is incomprehensible, we know only one thing, we are thrown into this world to eat and stay alive as long as we have enough strength.

Seagulls never object to the Council of the Flock, but Jonathan's voice broke the silence.

Irresponsibility? Brethren! - he exclaimed. - Who is more responsible than a seagull, which discovers what the meaning is, what the highest meaning of life is, and never forgets about it? For a thousand years we have been searching for fish heads, but now it is finally clear why we live: to learn, to discover new things, to be free! Give me a chance, let me show you what I've learned...

The flock seemed to have turned to stone.

“You are no longer our Brother,” the seagulls chanted in unison, majestically all covered their ears at once and turned their backs to him.

Jonathan spent the rest of his days alone, but he flew many miles from the Far Rocks. And it was not loneliness that tormented him, but the fact that the seagulls did not want to believe in the joy of flight, did not want to open their eyes and see!

Every day he learned something new. He learned that by giving his body a streamlined shape, he could go into a high-speed dive and catch rare, tasty fish from those swimming in the ocean at a depth of ten feet; he no longer needed fishing boats and stale bread. He learned to sleep in the air, learned to stay on course at night when the wind blew offshore, and could fly hundreds of miles from sunset to sunrise.

With the same composure, he flew through the dense sea fog and broke through it to a clear, dazzling, shining sky... at the same time when other seagulls huddled close to the ground, not suspecting that there was anything in the world other than fog and rain. He learned to fly with a strong wind far inland and catch delicious insects for dinner.

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

Sketch “Learning to Fly”

Imagine that Jonathan has students. Children are divided into groups and come up with a dance skit about how Jonathan taught seagulls to fly.

Creative assignment “In Defense of Jonathan”

Divide the children into groups and ask them to write a speech in defense of Jonathan or someone else like him. After a group representative reads a speech, the others try to refute it. The speaker must defend his position. Then the teacher discusses with the children whether they need to defend their beliefs and goals.

Homework assignment

Ask the children to describe two examples from life or literature when a person was or was not able to find meaning in life. Children should compare the lives of these people and write what impact the meaning of life or lack thereof has on a person’s character and actions.

Homework

Together with the teacher, the children discuss how they need to build their lives so that there are no meaningless years lived in it.

A book is compiled from the children's work: "Conversations about the meaning of life."

GREATNESS OF SOUL

A small man is small on the mountain;
the giant is great even in the pit.

Mikhail Lomonosov

Creative task “Great courage”

Children are divided into groups and given cards with names of different qualities, for example: courage, kindness, generosity. Children should talk about a person who has one or another quality to a great extent, for example: great courage, great kindness, etc.

Questions and tasks for conversation:

• Do you think everyone is capable of great feelings or only some people?
• Tell us about deeds and actions that can be called great.
• What quality do you think is greatest, and why?

Read the story:

GREAT

(excerpt)

N. Wagner

And Tsarevich Gaidar went, he went alone, without his retinue, he went to look all over the world for the “great”...

He approached a large, high mountain, and at its base large trees grew, and under one tree a man was lying, and another was sitting, leaning over him.

Gaidar was tired and involuntarily, without noticing, sank to the ground and sat down next to the man.

What, is he sick? - Gaidar asked the man.

But the man did not answer him. He rubbed the chest of the man who lay quietly and moaned pitifully.

Is this your brother?

The man turned to him, looked at him sternly, intently and quietly said intelligibly:

We are all brothers... We all have the same father... - And he again began to rub the sick man’s chest.

The patient moaned more and more quietly. He fell asleep.

The one who was rubbing quietly took his hand away from his chest, slowly turned to Gaidar and, putting a finger to his lips, quietly, barely audibly whispered:

He fell asleep! And may peace be upon you, my brother! He sat for several minutes in silence, head down. Gaidar looked at his thin, darkened face, with large, thoughtful eyes, at his worn, tattered clothes, at his poor, patched turban and thought: “He is probably poor and unhappy.”

And he quietly took out his wallet from his belt and just as quietly placed it in the hands of his interlocutor. But he pulled his hand away and said:

I don’t need!.. Give your gold to someone who has not tasted the gifts of poverty and poverty... and who is thinking of buying corrupt earthly goods with it...

You're probably from the same village as this patient? - Gaidar asked.

No, he is from Judea, and I am a Samaritan. My name is Rabel bed-Ad, and his name is Samuel of Khazran.

Rabel bent down to Gaidar and began to speak to him quietly, constantly looking back at the sleeping Samuel.

About fifteen years ago, when there was, as now, enmity between the Samaritans and the Jews, he came as a leader, with a whole legion of hired people; he burned our village, and took my father and mother captive.

What did you do to him for this?! - Gaidar cried out in horror and indignation?

Wait,” Rabel said quietly, “listen and then judge, if you have the right to judge.” I was seventeen years old then... I was young. My blood was boiling inside me... I wanted to take revenge. But I had a sister Agaria, whom I loved more than my father and mother and more than anything else in the world. She was kind and beautiful. She was twelve years old. When Samuel attacked our village, I fled with her to the mountains of Garazim and hid in caves there. When three days later I returned to our village, I did not find her. All that was left of it were ruins. Everything was destroyed and burned by the Jews. I took my sister and took her to the mountains again. We were rich before, and we have nothing left. We ate alms from good people. They went from village to village and collected alms. My father and mother were taken away and sold to the Moabites, and they died in captivity. So two or three years passed. One night, the cave in which we were hiding along with two other families of Samaritans was attacked by robbers. They massacred almost everyone, with the exception of me and Agaria, who was taken captive and sold, as I later learned, to Samuel as a slave.

Then I swore an oath to God Almighty to take revenge, to avenge my father and mother, and my poor sister. I began to secretly follow Samuel from afar. Many times I saw him leaving his house, but he always went out surrounded by his retinue and with his friends, acquaintances, and the thought that I might be disturbed, that I would be captured and executed, this thought stopped me. A little time passed. One night, when all my blood was agitated with a thirst for revenge, and I did not know where to find the place of my enmity, I went out of the city. The night was stuffy but clear. Without remembering or noticing how, I descended into one of the ravines. At the bottom of it lay the corpse of a woman, and by the light of the moon I learned that it was the corpse of my dear sister, my Agaria. There was a large wound in her chest, right next to her heart. The wound was mortal... I lost consciousness and when I came to my senses, I again repeated the terrible oath of vengeance on my enemy. I read it over the corpse of my dear Agaria. I dipped my hand in her blood and raised it to the sky as a sign that with the blood of my dear sister I swear to fulfill my oath...

Rabel fell silent and covered his face with his hands for one minute, as if suppressed by unbearably cruel memories. Then he abruptly took his hands away and quickly spoke again:

Samuel killed her. This was the last drop of bitterness poured into my tormented soul. I then lived with one thought of revenge... It seemed to me that killing him would not be enough, not enough for everything my poor heart had suffered. With the sunrise I woke up with this thought, it did not leave me all day. I came up with thousands of plans to repay him in the most cruel way. He had neither father nor mother. He was an orphan. He was terribly rich and didn’t love anyone... I didn’t know then that the true treasure was hidden in love and that, not having it, he was poorer than me... So several more years passed. One time I lost sight of him. He left, but where, I didn’t know even then... (At the same time, Rabel grabbed Gaidar’s hand and squeezed it tightly) and then I knew such torment that I had never experienced in my entire life. I wished for death, I sought death. Several times I tried to kill myself... But I was stopped by the terrible oath I swore. I thought that there is no forgiveness for oathbreakers... What, I thought, awaits me beyond the grave? The wrath of the Lord and new, stronger torment. Meanwhile, I constantly imagined the shadows of my father, and my mother, and my sweet and dear Agaria. I saw them pale, sad and nodding their heads at me. I saw their terrible bloody wounds, I saw them day and night, and I suffered and suffered unbearably...

There is no greater suffering for a person than to strive for revenge and languish in powerlessness... - He paused and continued the story again: - All this is past, long gone... everything is forgotten... and for this I will forever thank God if He gives me eternal life. And I will thank Him even more, even more strongly for the fact that He destroyed all my anger, all my thirst for revenge and turned it into a great good feeling. Many years have passed. And he, Samuel, returned again... I bought a good knife. I honed it myself and did not part with it day or night. I hardly slept, and I didn’t feel like eating. Day and night I wandered around his house. But it was locked, and Samuel did not go out anywhere.

On the fourth or fifth day, I don’t remember, I went out into the street late in the evening and I saw him walking ahead of me. I immediately recognized him by his wide cloak, his abu - white with red stripes. He walked quietly and limped, leaning on a tall staff. I quickened my pace and got ahead of him. The moon shone directly on his face, and I recognized him. Blood rushed to my head. One more moment and I would have rushed at him, but I waited out this moment. One thought quickly flashed through my head. He goes outside the city, to a deserted place. He will, perhaps, be near the ravine in which he laid the corpse of my poor Agaria. I let him pass and quietly followed him. My blood was bubbling. Hellish joy and anger boiled in my heart. He walked quietly, stopping almost every minute and emitting quiet, pitiful groans. He was obviously sick and suffering. Finally we left the city. He went straight to the ravine in which I found Agaria’s corpse. He sank down on the edge and fell face down on the ground with a groan. He was now in my power. I took out my knife. I could have killed him with impunity and pushed him into the ravine. Somewhere in the depths of my soul I heard: you will kill the defenseless. But were not my father, my mother, and my poor dear Agaria also defenseless? Like a madman, I swung the knife over his back in rage... but at the same moment someone stopped my hand...

My eyes grew dark. It was as if some kind of white fog had covered them. And when this fog cleared, I saw that I was standing far from the ravine and shaking all over. And suddenly I see that Samuel, quietly groaning, got up and, staggering, approached, or rather ran up to me. He opened his chest in front of me, and on this chest there was a huge bloody ulcer.

“Whoever you are,” he cried, “take pity on me—kill me!” - And he fell at my feet. - Kill me, because my life is one incessant torment. I would kill myself, but I am afraid of the torment beyond the grave, the eternal torment of a suicide. I have committed a terrible sin. I burned and destroyed an entire village of Samaritans. I sold into captivity the father and mother of one of them named Rabel ben-Ad; I stole his sister Agaria from him and dishonored her too. I have committed many atrocities. If I knew where Rabel lived, I would come to him, and he would probably kill me.

At that moment I really wanted to tell him: Rabel is in front of you, but I resisted. "No! - I said to myself, “I will open up to him when life is dear to him, and will not be torture.” And from that moment we became inseparable. Now three years have passed. For three years, I, Rabel, have been a constant witness to unbearable suffering, combined with terrible torment of conscience. Once Samuel did not sleep for three whole nights in a row. The constant excruciating pain in all his bones did not give him peace for a minute, and then I thought: “Is it possible to suffer even more, and have I not been avenged enough?” My father, mother and sister stopped suffering, but he, this unfortunate villain, suffers day and night, suffers without ceasing”...

And I realized that no knife, or sword, or fire would punish or avenge me the way the One who rules the stars and moves the seas avenged me. During these three years, my hatred little by little disappeared. At first, when I listened to the groans of Samuel, every groan and every word of his stirred my heart, and it asked for his blood.

But when he lay helplessly on my chest, exhausted and broken by pain, when he fell asleep on this chest, exhausted by suffering, then the feeling of hatred in me softened, subsided - and I felt only one compassion. I longed, just like him, for an end to this suffering... But sometimes an evil thought occurred to me: to open up, to tell him: “I am Rabel ben-Ad; I am the one whose father, mother and sister you killed. You destroyed my house, ruined it, deprived me of everything, everything that is dear to a person, and you see, I look after you as my good friend. I took revenge. I paid you good for evil...” But such a confession could increase his suffering, another terrible torment would be added to the torment of his conscience, and yet those from which he suffered were enough, too enough. Why am I going to torment him any longer?.. For more than two years now, he has not been able to live without me. He feels better when I put my hand on his chest and rub it. I had long ago thrown the knife with which I wanted to kill him into the river. I haven’t been able to leave him for a long time... and... I’m scared and ashamed to admit even to myself... - and he covered his face with his hands and whispered quietly, so quietly that Gaidar barely heard his words: - I... I... love him...

Tears rolled down from under the fingers pressed to the eyes. Gaidar looked at his heaving chest, and it clearly seemed to him that a “great” human heart was beating in this chest.

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

• Do you think that if Samuel had not suffered so much, would he have felt pangs of conscience?
• If Samuel had recovered and stopped suffering, would Rabel have stayed with him?
• Why do you think Rabel fell in love with Samuel?
• Do you consider Rabel's act great, and why? Tell about great deeds of different people from literature or real life.

Written work

Write about some great deed or action that you dream of doing.

Drawing “Greatness of the World”

Draw any images from the world around you that remind you of the Great One. For example: a mighty oak tree, a starry sky. Based on their drawings, children tell what thoughts certain images give rise to in them.

An exhibition is made from children's drawings: "Thoughts about the Great."

Sketch “Talk about the Great”

Divide the children into pairs. One person in the pair argues that nowadays there are many people capable of generous acts, and the other person convinces him that in the past there were more such people.

Homework assignment

Children write down a quote from the epigraph for the lesson. Ask the children to choose a profession that they like, find materials about some great representative of this profession and write them down.

Children then write an essay about how they will work to achieve greatness in their profession.

Homework

Together with the teacher, children discuss what makes this or that profession great. A book is compiled from the children's work: "Great in the profession."

LOYALTY TO THE WORD

Consider whether it is true and possible
what do you promise, for a promise is a duty.

Confucius

Tell the children about the Hippocratic Oath that doctors take: “...I promise to help at all times, with all my strength and knowledge, those who suffer who resort to my help, to sacredly keep the family secrets entrusted to me and not to abuse the trust placed in me... I promise to continue to study medical science and contribute with all my might to its prosperity...”

Ask the children to list professions whose representatives would use an oath to better understand what is most important in their work. Everything listed by the children is written on the board. Children are divided into groups and choose one of the professions written on the board. Each group comes up with and writes down an oath that representatives of this profession must take before starting their professional activities. A book is made from children's work "Professional Oath"

Questions and tasks for conversation:

• What is an oath?
• How is an oath different from a simple promise?
• What does it mean to remain faithful to your ideal (duty, dream)?
• Do you find it difficult to keep your promises?
• What promises are most difficult for you to keep: those made to yourself, your parents, loved ones, friends or teachers?

Read the story:

HOSTAGE

L. Neelova

It was a long time ago. In the east lived a powerful sultan, so rich that he did not know the count of his lands, jewelry, slaves and herds. The Sultan wanted to be known as a wise and fair ruler, but he could not curb his harsh and cruel temper. Woe to those who fell under his angry hand; Whether the unfortunate man was right or guilty, he was executed anyway. But whoever came to the Sultan, when he was in a good mood, was showered with all sorts of favors and generosity.

There lived in that kingdom one rich and pious man named Ayab. And so the Lord wanted to test his faithful servant and sent him various troubles and misfortunes. First, his entire field was knocked out by hail, then all his livestock died from some kind of disease. Before Ayab had time to come to his senses, he had nothing left and the poor man had to starve with his wife and children.

Ayab struggled and struggled and decided to go to the Sultan to ask for bread for his family. He prayed to God and set off on his journey. Fate, however, wished that the day on which the pious Ayab came to the Sultan was just one of those unfortunate days when the powerful ruler was not in the spirit. As soon as he saw Ayab, the kicker immediately ordered his head to be cut off, without allowing the poor fellow to even say a word.

All that was missing, thought Ayab, was to lose his head to top off all the misfortunes. - He dropped his ears to his knees and began to ask the Sultan to have mercy on him, but the Sultan did not want to listen to anything.

“You must die,” he said, “because you came on an unfortunate day, and I swore with my beard that whoever comes to me with any request on this day should lose his head, and what I swore with my with a beard - he must certainly do it.

Ayab was frightened, but since he was a God-fearing man, relying on the will of God, he said:

Two deaths cannot happen, but one cannot be avoided. Let it be, lord, as you want - my life belongs to you. But I beg of one thing: allow me to go home, say goodbye to my wife and children and bring them bread, otherwise they will die of hunger. Before the sun has time to set, I will be with you again.

“Okay,” answered the Sultan, “go home and take as much bread as you can bear; but leave a hostage who will answer for you with his own life if you do not return on time.

The poor man looked sadly at those around him. Everyone, without exception, stood with their eyes downcast...

Is no one willing to be my hostage? - asked Ayab. - Have pity on me, God will reward you.

So be it, I agree,” suddenly a voice rang out in the middle of the general silence, and the treasurer, whom the Sultan had entrusted with keeping his priceless treasures, stepped forward from the crowd of courtiers. But an immeasurably greater treasure than the rarest jewels of the Sultan’s treasury was the magnanimous heart of the treasurer... “Take me, lord, hostage for this man,” he said with a low bow.

If you please,” the Sultan answered, “I’ll just tell you, treasurer, I will be sorry for your head if I have to cut it off because of Ayab.”

The wife and children were happy when Ayab came and brought them a lot of bread, but when they found out what price the unfortunate father had paid for it, they started crying and never wanted to let him go from them.

And time, meanwhile, went on and on. The sun sank lower and lower, and when it was very close to sunset, the Sultan called the treasurer and said:

Ayab does not return. I swear on my beard, I feel sorry for you - you are an honest man and a devoted servant to me, but you and I gave our word, and we must keep our word. Prepare for death, you will soon be called to execution. The treasurer looked at the sun and said:

I am ready for anything, lord, my time will come, I will die without a murmur.

A short time later, the guards appeared and took the treasurer to the execution site. There, on a high scaffold, stood the executioner, and around the scaffold, apparently and invisibly, people gathered. Everyone felt sorry for the innocent treasurer, and many cried bitterly. The setting luminary sent one last ray and slowly began to fade; The executioner had already raised his terrible sword, when suddenly a man appeared in the distance. Covered in dust and dirt, gasping for breath from fatigue, he ran as fast as he could and shouted:

Stop, stop! Release my hostage, take me to execution.

Here the executioner lowered his sharp sword, and the Sultan lowered his proud head... “Go,” he said to Ayab and the treasurer, “I forgive you. You taught me a lesson that I will never forget for the rest of my life. There is nothing more beautiful in the world than loyalty to your promise and the greatness of soul that you both showed today. From now on, I will not have bad days, but there will forever be days of mercy, meekness and justice... You, my friends, go to the treasury and take for yourself what you like - the lesson you gave me is worthy of the greatest reward.

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

• What should a good ruler be loyal to?
• What qualities should a ruler have so that the lives of his subjects do not depend on his mood?
• What qualities must a person have in order to pledge his life for another person?
• Can you break a vow you made without thinking?
• Did the sultan’s loyalty to his words differ from the loyalty to his word of Ayab and the treasurer, and in what ways?
• If you were Ayab, would you return to the king?

Written work

Write a story about the actions of a ruler who is loyal to his people.

Game "Broken Promise"

Ask the children to write on a piece of paper, without signing anyone's name, about one of their classmates' broken promises that upset them the most. The teacher collects the leaves and hangs them on the stand. After the children have read everything they wrote about each other, ask them to remember any broken promises they made and try to keep them.

Sketch “Is it possible to break an oath”

Divide the children into pairs. One person from the couple proves that there are such critical situations in life when a person can break his word, and the other convinces him that the oath cannot be broken under any circumstances.

Homework assignment

Invite everyone to make some promises to themselves and write them down, for example: not to be rude to loved ones, do exercises, clean your room, etc. After a week, the children must write whether they managed to keep their word, and if they failed, then why.

Homework

Discuss with your children what is most preventing them from keeping their promises. Invite them to hang a calendar on the wall and circle on it only those days when they manage to keep one or another promise. At the end of the year (month, semester), children tell whether this task helped them learn to keep their promises.

COURAGEOUS HEART

O courageous heart
all adversities are broken.

Miguel Cervantes

Creative task “Who is more courageous”

Divide the children into groups so that some have only boys and others only girls. Boys should remember and talk about the courageous act of a woman that impressed them; and girls - about the courageous act of a man. Then the teacher discusses with the children why some people are able to perform courageous acts and others are not.

Questions and tasks for conversation

• What situations in everyday life require courage from a person?
• How can courage help a person cope with a serious illness?
• What does it mean to courageously face the truth?

Read the story:

WHEN MUSIC IS STRONGER THAN DEATH

When the occupation began and the Parisian cafe in which Charles so enthusiastically played in the evenings closed, he went on foot to his hometown. Charles did not take anything on the road except his main treasure, the guitar. With her, he could always find a place to sleep, a piece of bread and a glass of wine on the road. Halfway home, Charles witnessed the shooting of two men in the square of a small town. The soldiers herded the entire population to the square and ordered everyone to stand and look at those shot until the evening as a warning. People stood silently and dejectedly, with their eyes buried in the ground.

What are they for? - Charles approached the gray-haired old man.

“Be quiet, it’s none of our business,” the old man whispered and hunched his already stooped shoulders even more.

Charles felt how gray fear enveloped the entire square like a sticky web, bending people to the ground. Even the children were silent. Then he carefully took his guitar out of its case and gently touched its strings. People looked at him in surprise and fear.

Now we have no time for songs or music, but the guitar was already singing at the top of its voice.

From her ringing tune, people’s hearts first went cold, and then their eyes sparkled and their heads rose. The lips moved, silently repeating behind the guitar the calling words of “La Marseillaise”: Rise for the Motherland! The day of glory has arrived.

The soldiers pushed the crowd with rifle butts and began to disperse people from the square. Snatching Charles' guitar, they took him to the police station.

The next morning the officer said to Charles:

You're in luck, musician. I should have shot you, but my friend, the head of security at the concentration camp, is looking for musicians for the orchestra.

So the curly-haired guitarist Charles ended up in a concentration camp along with his guitar.

“You will play German marches to strengthen faith in our invincibility, discipline and order,” the officer told him, handing him several sheets of music.

During an evening walk, Charles walked out with his guitar into the middle of the prison yard. He raised his head and his fingers began to run. The guitar began to sing solemnly and loudly. From all the barracks, chains of people stretched out into the prison yard, and soon they surrounded the musician in a dense ring. Charles's face was flushed, his eyes were shining, and his guitar was ringing with rolling and menacing trills. It was an improvisation, but only a deaf person would not have heard the same loud call of the Marseillaise in this music.

And how a few days ago in the square the dull eyes of people were filled with the light of freedom, and their drooping shoulders straightened.

The angry guards took Charles away and cut off his fingertips.

You didn’t want to play marches, which means that tomorrow you will work together with everyone else in the quarry! - ordered the head of security.

Charles did not remember how he pushed a heavy wheelbarrow with stones. Not only the stumps of his fingers throbbed with pain, but his entire body. In order not to fall and lose consciousness from pain, he silently sang the same invocation tune, and this helped him get through the day.

In the evening he could not even walk to the dining room and, writhing in pain, fell exhausted onto his bunk. But when it was time for an evening walk, Charles suddenly got up, took his guitar and went out into the prison yard. No, he couldn't play, but he could sing and beat out rhythm on his guitar. His song sounded very quietly, but penetrated into every barracks and every heart. First one timid voice joined Charles, then another, a third...

The song grew and spread. What a song it was! The crowd surrounded Charles in a dense ring, and the soldiers had to shoot in the air to make people move away. The guards just went crazy, they smashed the guitar and cut off Charles's tongue.

To the great surprise of the prisoners, the next evening he appeared again in the center of the prison yard, dancing to the music that everyone heard in their hearts. Soon all the people were dancing, joining their hands around his bleeding figure, trembling in pain. This time the guards, fascinated by what they saw, did not move.

• What helped Charles to be courageous?
• What helps you maintain courage in difficult situations?
• What sources do you think a person can draw courage from (love for the Motherland, faith in God, etc.)?
• Talk about when and how music helps people maintain courage.
• What music or song gives you strength?

Sketch “Do I need to tell the truth”

Divide the children into pairs. In a skit-dialogue, one person from the couple proves that a courageous person should always tell the truth to everyone’s face, and the other convinces him that if the truth can offend a person, then real courage is not to express it.

Read the legend

FEAR OF DEATH

Indian legend

This happened in a fishing village. Many fishing families, who built bamboo huts among the trees that grew on the sea coast, lived in it since time immemorial.

Every day they launched their boats into the sea while the red tongues of sunset still colored the evening sky, and sailed until the sea turned from purple-red to black. Then they, having spread their nets wide, sat in their boats, waiting for the catch, singing the songs they had heard from their fathers until the sky turned red in the morning. Then they pulled out their nets and swam home.

Sometimes they went far out to sea in search of new fishing grounds. If they were caught by a storm on the open sea, they died. Then the dead were mourned in the huts of the dead. Sadness filled the hearts, but this did not last long. The vast expanses of the sea again stirred their blood. The call of the sea was irresistible for them, and they again raised the sails.

Antonio also lost his father one day. A fisherman, his father's friend, came to their house and said that his father's boat had capsized in the stormy sea, and he himself had disappeared. But the fishermen managed to pull his boat ashore.

Antonio and his mother mourned their father for a long time and inconsolably, and he gave the boat to boat makers for repairs, and a week later it was ready to sail again. In the evening, when Antonio went to the market to buy a new chain there, he met the son of a landowner. The landowner's son asked Antonio:

Are you really buying a network?

Yes. Tomorrow I will go to sea. Will you come with me?

What? At sea? No, this is not for me, I'm afraid of the sea. I heard that your father drowned last week.

So what?

And after that you are not afraid?

Why should I be afraid? I am the son of a fisherman. Fishermen are not afraid of the sea.

Now tell me, who was your grandfather?

He was also a fisherman.

How did he die?

He was caught at sea by a storm and never returned.

And his father? - asked the landowner's son.

He also died at sea. But he was an even more courageous man: he went to the eastern coast of the country and became a pearl diver. He drowned: he went to the depths and never swam up again.

Strange! What kind of people are you? You all always die at sea and yet you go there again and again! - exclaimed the landowner's son.

But now it was Antonio's turn to ask questions. And, scratching the back of his head, he asked:

I heard that your grandfather passed away recently, did he die?

He died at home, in his sleep. He was old. When the servant decided to wake him up, he found him already dead.

What about your great-grandfather?

He was also old and died of illness at home.

And his father?

I was told that he was ill for a long time and died in his home.

My God! They all died in your house. And you continue to live in this house? And aren't you scared?

It was worth seeing the face of the landowner's son after these words.

Questions and tasks for the legend:

• Are you afraid of death? Why are some people not afraid of death?
• Do you think someone who is not afraid of death can be called courageous?
• If people choose a job that involves risking their lives, does this mean that they are not afraid of death?

Written work

Think about a time in your life when you lacked courage, and write what would have happened if you had acted courageously.

Homework assignment

Find information about how some creative people (scientists, writers, artists) showed courage during the war, and write a story about them.

Homework

Children read out their stories. A book is compiled from the children's work: "Examples of Courage."

SHOW COMPASSION

Compassion is expressed in
that you're becoming unhappy
because of the suffering of others.

Bertrand Russell

Creative task “Learning to compassion”

Divide the children into groups and give them cards with the names of famous literary characters. Children must come up with and tell how they would show compassion for certain literary characters.

Questions and tasks for conversation:

• Do you think that if a person experiences their grief with others, does this make him more unhappy?
• If you meet a person crying bitterly on the street, will you approach him?
• If you feel bad and a stranger offers you help, how do you react?
• Who among the people around you is most in need of compassion, and why?

Read the story:

THE HAPPY PRINCE

O. Wilde

On a high column above the city stood a statue of the Happy Prince. The prince was covered from top to bottom with leaves of pure gold. He had sapphires for eyes, and a large ruby ​​shone on the hilt of his sword. Everyone admired the Prince.

One night a Swallow flew over the city. Her friends had already flown to Egypt for the seventh week, and she fell behind them because she was in love with the flexible, beautiful Reed. When they flew away, the Swallow felt like an orphan, and this attachment to Reed seemed very painful to her.

He may be a homebody, but I love to travel, and it wouldn’t hurt for my husband to love travel too.

Well, will you fly with me? - she finally asked, but Reed only shook his head: he was so attached to the house!...

And she flew away.

She flew all day and arrived in the city by nightfall.

“Where should I stay here?” - Swallow thought. “I hope the city is already prepared to greet me with dignity?”

Then she saw a statue on a high column.

That's great. I’ll settle down here: a wonderful place and a lot of fresh air.

And she took refuge at the feet of the Happy Prince.

I have a golden bedroom! - she said tenderly, looking around.

And she had already settled down to sleep and hid her head under her wing, when suddenly a heavy drop fell on her.

How strange! - she was surprised. - There's not a cloud in the sky. The stars are so pure and clear - where does the rain come from?

Then another drop fell.

What's the use of a statue if it can't even protect you from the rain? I’ll look for shelter somewhere near the chimney on the roof. - And the Swallow decided to fly away.

But before she had time to spread her wings, the third drop fell.

The swallow looked up, and what did she see! The Happy Prince's eyes were filled with tears.

Tears rolled down his golden cheeks. And his face was so beautiful in the moonlight, “then the Swallow was filled with pity.

Who are you? - she asked.

I am the Happy Prince.

But why are you crying? You got me wet through.

“When I was alive, I had a living human heart, I didn’t know what tears were,” the statue answered. - I lived in the palace of Sans Souci (carefree, French), where sorrow is prohibited from entering. During the day I amused myself in the garden with my friends, and in the evening I danced in the Great Hall. The garden was surrounded by a high wall, and I never thought to ask what was happening behind it. Everything around me was so beautiful! “Happy Prince” - my entourage called me, and indeed I was happy, if there is happiness in pleasures. That's how I lived and that's how I died. And now, when I am no longer alive, they put me up here, so high that I can see all the sorrows and all the poverty of my capital. And although my heart is now made of tin, I cannot stop myself from crying.

There, far away, on a narrow street, I see a wretched house,” the statue continued in a quiet melodic voice. - However, the window is open and I can see a woman sitting at the table. Her face is haggard, her hands are rough and red, they are all pricked with needles, because she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion flowers on the silk dress of the queen's most beautiful lady-in-waiting for the next court ball. And in the bed, closer to the corner, is her sick child. Her boy lies with a fever and asks to be given oranges. But the mother has nothing, only river water. And this boy is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow! Won't you take her the ruby ​​from my sword? My feet are chained to the pedestal, and I am unable to move from my place.

They are waiting for me and will not wait for me in Egypt,” answered the Swallow. - My friends are circling over the Nile and talking with lush lotuses.

Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow. Stay here for one night only, and be my messenger. The boy is so thirsty, and his mother is so sad.

I don't really like the boy. Last summer, when I lived above the river, the miller's children, angry boys, always threw stones at me.

However, the Happy Prince was so sad that the Swallow took pity on him.

It’s very cold here,” she said, “but it’s okay, this night I will stay with you and carry out your instructions.”

“Thank you, little Swallow,” said the Happy Prince.

And so the Swallow pecked a large ruby ​​from the Happy Prince’s sword and flew with this ruby ​​over the city roofs.

And finally she flew to a wretched house! and looked there. The boy tossed about in the heat, and his mother fell fast asleep - she was so tired. The swallow snuck into the closet and placed the ruby ​​on the table, next to the seamstress's thimble. Then she began to silently circle over the boy, bringing coolness to his face.

I felt so good! - said the child. - So I'll get better soon. - And he fell into a pleasant doze.

And the Swallow returned to the Happy Prince and told him about everything.

And it’s strange,” she concluded her story, “although it’s cold outside, I’m not cold at all.

It's because you did a good deed! - the Happy Prince explained to her.

And the Swallow thought about this, but immediately fell asleep. As soon as she thought about it, she fell asleep.

At dawn she flew to the river to swim...

When the moon rose, the Swallow returned to the Happy Prince.

Do you have any errands for Egypt? - she asked loudly. - I'm leaving this minute.

Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow! - the Happy Prince begged. - Stay for one night only.

They are waiting for me in Egypt,” answered the Swallow. - Tomorrow my friends will fly to the second rapids of the Nile...

Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow! - the Happy Prince told her. - There, far outside the city, I see a young man in the attic. He bent over the table, over the papers. In front of him in a glass are faded violets. His lips are as red as garnets, his brown hair is curly, and his eyes are large and dreamy. He is in a hurry to finish his play for the Director of the Theater, but he is too cold, the fire has burned out in his hearth, and he is about to faint from hunger.

Okay, I'll stay with you until the morning! - said the Swallow to the Prince. She had a kind heart. - Where is your other ruby?

I have no more rubies, alas! - said the Happy Prince. - My eyes are all that's left. They are made from rare sapphires and were brought from India a thousand years ago. Pluck one of them and take it to that person. He will sell it to the jeweler and buy himself food and firewood and finish his play.

Dear Prince, I can't do this! - And the Swallow began to cry.

Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow! Do my will!

And the Swallow pecked out the Happy Prince’s eye and flew to the poet’s home. It was not difficult for her to get there, because the roof was full of holes. The Swallow made its way into the room through this roof. The young man sat with his face covered in his hands and did not hear the fluttering of the wings. Only then did he notice the sapphire in a pile of withered violets.

However, they are starting to appreciate me! - he exclaimed joyfully. - This is from some noble admirer. Now I can finish my play. - And happiness was on his face.

Only in the evening did the Swallow return to the Happy Prince.

I came to say goodbye to you! - she screamed from afar.

Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow! - the Happy Prince begged. -Won't you stay until the morning?

Now it’s winter,” answered the Swallow, “and soon there will be cold snow here.” And in Egypt, the sun warms the green leaves of palm trees... My friends are already making nests in the Baalbek Temple, and white and pink doves look at them and coo. Dear Prince, I cannot stay, but I will never forget you, and when spring comes, I will bring you two precious stones from Egypt in place of the ones you gave. Your ruby ​​will be redder than a red rose, and your sapphire will be bluer than a sea wave.

Down in the square, said the Happy Prince, there is a little girl selling matches. She dropped them in a ditch, they were ruined, and her father would kill her if she returned without money. She's crying. She has neither shoes nor stockings, and her head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, give it to the girl, and her father won’t beat her.

“I can stay with you one more night,” answered the Swallow, “but I cannot peck out your eye.” After all, then you will be completely blind.

Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow! - said the Happy Prince, - fulfill my will!

And she pecked out the Prince’s second eye, and flew up to the girl, and dropped a wonderful sapphire into her hand.

What a beautiful piece of glass! - exclaimed the little girl and, laughing, ran home.

The swallow returned to the Prince.

Now that you are blind, I will stay with you forever.

“No, my dear Swallow,” answered the unhappy Prince, “you must go to Egypt.”

“I will stay with you forever,” said the Swallow and fell asleep at his feet.

In the morning she sat on his shoulder all day and told him about what she had seen in distant lands: about pink ibises that stand in a long phalanx on the shallows of the Nile and catch goldfish with their beaks; about the Sphinx, old as the world, living in the desert and knowing everything; about merchants who slowly walk next to their camels and finger their amber rosary...

“Dear Swallow,” responded the Happy Prince, “everything you talk about is amazing. But the most amazing thing in the world is human suffering. Where will you find the answer for them? Fly around my city, dear Swallow, and tell me about everything you see.

And the Swallow flew over the entire huge city, and she saw how the rich rejoiced in the magnificent chambers, and the poor sat at their thresholds. She visited dark corners and saw the pale faces of emaciated children, sadly looking at the black street...

The swallow returned to the Prince and told everything that he had seen.

“I am all gilded,” said the Happy Prince. - Take my gold, sheet by sheet, and distribute it to the poor...

Leaf by leaf, the Swallow removed the gold from the statue, until the Happy Prince became dull and gray. Leaf by leaf she distributed his pure gold to the poor, and the children’s cheeks turned pink, and the children began to laugh and started playing games in the streets.

And we have bread! - they shouted.

Then it snowed, and after the snow came frost. The streets turned silver and began to sparkle...

The poor swallow was cold and cold, but did not want to leave the Prince, because she loved him very much. She sneaked some bread crumbs from the bakery and flapped her wings to keep warm. But finally she realized that it was time to die. The only strength she had was to climb onto the Prince’s shoulder for the last time.

Farewell, dear Prince! - she whispered. -Will you let me kiss your hand?

“I’m glad that you’re finally flying to Egypt,” answered the Happy Prince. - You stayed here too long; but you must kiss me on the lips because I love you.

“I’m not flying to Egypt,” answered the Swallow. - I'm flying to the abode of Death. Aren't death and sleep siblings?

And she kissed the Happy Prince on the mouth and fell dead at his feet.

And at that very moment a strange crash was heard from inside the statue, as if something had exploded. This tin heart broke. It was truly bitterly cold.

Early in the morning, the Mayor of the City was walking down the boulevard, and with him the City Councilors. Passing by the Prince's column, the Mayor looked at the statue.

God! What a ragamuffin this Happy Prince has become! - exclaimed the Mayor.

Exactly, exactly the ragamuffin! - picked up the City Councilors, who always agreed with the Mayor on everything.

And they approached the Statue to examine it.

The ruby ​​is no longer in his sword, his eyes have fallen out, and the gilding has come off,” the Mayor continued. - He is worse than any beggar!

Worse than a beggar! - confirmed the City Councilors.

And some dead bird is lying at his feet. We should issue a decree: birds are not allowed to die here.

And the Secretary of the City Council immediately entered this proposal into the book.

And they toppled the statue of the Happy Prince.

And they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor convened the city council, and decided what to do with the metal.

Let's make a new statue! - suggested the Mayor. - And let this new statue depict me!

Me! - said each adviser, and they all began to quarrel.

Marvelous! - said the Chief Foundryman. - This broken tin heart does not want to melt in the furnace. We have to throw it away.

And he threw it into a pile of rubbish where the dead Swallow lay.

And the Lord commanded his angel:

Bring me the most valuable thing you find in this city.

And the angel brought him a tin heart and a dead bird.

You chose correctly, said the Lord. - For in my gardens of paradise this little bird will sing forever and ever, and in my shining palace the Happy Prince will give me praise.

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

• Why did the Happy Prince not notice the suffering of his subjects during his lifetime?
• Do you think that if the Prince statue were offered to come to life and return to the palace, would he agree?
• When do you think the Prince was truly happy: when he lived in the palace or when he became a statue?
• How do you understand the words of the Happy Prince: “The most amazing thing in the world is human suffering”?
• Why did the swallow fulfill all the requests of the Happy Prince?
• Why do you think she fell in love with him?
• What does the Happy Prince statue symbolize?
• Why couldn't the tin heart of the Happy Prince melt?
• Who do you think shows compassion more often: women or men, and why? Does the ability to compassion depend on a person’s gender and age?
• Why do you think people who are doing well often don’t notice the suffering of others?

Scene "The Prince and the Swallow"

Divide the children into pairs. One person in a pair is a swallow, the other is a Happy Prince. Each couple should think and tell others what they will do so that people in their city do not quarrel with each other, do not go hungry, do not slander, do not get sick, etc. Each couple can choose one or another problem that prevents people from being happy.

We compose a fairy tale “Seeing Suffering”

Imagine that you were in the palace of the Happy Prince when he was alive. Write a fairy tale about how you taught him to see the suffering of people and come to their aid.

Drawing “The Most Valuable”

Imagine that an angel flew to your city to take something most valuable to heaven. Draw what the angel chose. An exhibition is made from children's drawings: "The most valuable thing."

Homework assignment

Children write down a quote from Bertrand Russell from the epigraph to the lesson.

Ask the children to find someone who needs compassion. Children should talk to this person, try to find out about his problems and help him with something, for example: sympathize, give something, advise, do something for him, etc.

Homework

Discuss with the children whether they were able to help people who needed help and how they did it.

TALK ABOUT CONSCIENCE

Work hard so that in your soul
those tiny sparks of heavenly fire did not die,
what is called conscience,

George Washington

Creative task “Conversations with conscience”

Ask the children to think and list why a person needs a conscience. All of the above is written on the board. Then the children are divided into groups and come up with an “interview with conscience” on the following questions:

• When did you first appear as a human?
• What do you dislike most about a person?
• Tell us about the people you are proud of.
• Can you influence a person who forgets about you?
• How to learn not to forget about you?
• What happens to you when your owner sleeps?
• How can you help your master? etc.

Representatives from the groups then take turns reading out their interviews. A book is compiled from the children's work: "Conversations with conscience."

Questions and tasks for conversation:

• What is conscience needed for?
• What does it mean when they say about someone that this person is at odds with his conscience?
• What kind of person is said to have a mirror conscience?
• What kind of person should a person be in order for his conscience to be calm?
• If people didn't have a conscience, would they be happier?
• How can a clear conscience reward a person?
• Why is conscience often called a person’s doctor or mentor? Have you ever felt like your conscience was teaching or healing you?
• Can a person's conscience be his inner judge?
• What golden rules does a person’s conscience teach?

Read the story:

NAMED FATHER

Ukrainian fairy tale

Three brothers were left orphans - neither father nor mother. No stake, no yard. So they went to villages and hamlets to hire themselves as workers. They go and think: “Oh, if only I could hire myself to a good master!” Lo and behold, an old man is walking, old, old, with a white beard down to his waist. The old man caught up with the brothers and asked:

Where are you heading, kids? And they answer:

Let's go get hired.

Don't you have your own farm?

No, they answer. “If we found a kind master, we would work for him honestly, obey him, and honor him like our own father.”

The old man thought and said:

Well, be my sons, and I will be your father. I will make people out of you - I will teach you to live according to honor, according to conscience, just listen to me.

The brothers agreed and followed that old man. They walk through dark forests and wide fields. They walk and walk and see - the hut is standing, so elegant, white, surrounded by colorful flowers. And nearby is a cherry orchard. And in the kindergarten there is a girl, pretty, cheerful, like those flowers. The elder brother looked at her and said:

I wish I had this girl as my wife! Yes, more cows and oxen!

And the old man told him:

Well,” he says, “let’s go and get married.” If you have a wife, you will have oxen and cows - live happily, just don’t forget the truth.

They went, got married, and had a fun wedding. The elder brother became the owner and stayed with his young wife to live in that hut.

And the old man and his younger brothers moved on. They walk through dark forests and wide fields. They walk and walk and see that the hut is standing, nice and bright. And next to it is a pond. There is a mill by the pond. And a pretty girl near the hut is doing something - so hard-working. The middle brother looked at her and said:

I wish I had this girl as my wife! And in addition a mill with a pond. If I were sitting at the mill, grinding bread, I would be full and satisfied.

And the old man told him:

Well, son, have it your way!

They went to that hut, wooed the girl, and celebrated the wedding. Now the middle brother stayed with his young wife to live in the hut.

The old man tells him:

Well, son, live happily, just don’t forget the truth.

And they moved on - the younger brother and the named father. They walk and look - the poor hut is standing, and the girl comes out of the hut, like a beautiful dawn, and so poorly dressed - just a patch on a patch. So the younger brother says:

If only I could have this girl as my wife! If we worked, we would have some bread. We would not forget about the poor people: we would eat ourselves and share with people.

Then the old man says:

Okay, son, it will be so. Just make sure you don’t forget the truth.

He married this one too, and went his own way.

But the brothers live. The eldest has become so rich that he is already building houses for himself and saving chervonets - all he thinks about is how he can accumulate more of those chervonets. And to help a poor person, there’s no question of that!

The middle one also got rich: farm laborers began to work for him, and he himself just lies there and gives orders.

The younger one lives on the sly: if he has something at home, he shares it with people, but there is nothing, and so it’s fine - he doesn’t complain.

So the said father walked and walked around the world, and he wanted to see how his sons somehow lived and did not diverge from the truth. He pretended to be a poor old man, came to his eldest son, walked around the yard, bowed low, and said:

Give the poor old man food from your generosity!

And the son answers:

You're not that old, don't pretend! If you want, you will earn it! I just recently got back on my feet.

And the chests are bursting with goodness, the houses are newly built, the shops are full of goods, the bins are full of bread, the money is countless. But he didn’t give alms! The old man left with nothing. He walked away, maybe a mile away, stood on a hillock, looked back at that farm and that property - so it all started to burn!

He went to his middle brother. He comes, and he has a mill, a pond, and a good farm. He sits at the mill himself. The grandfather bowed low and said:

Give me, good man, at least a handful of flour! I am a poor wanderer, I have nothing to eat.

“Well, yes,” he replies, “I haven’t done enough for myself yet!” There are so many of you hanging around here, you can’t get enough of them all!

The old man left with nothing. He walked away a little, stood on a hillock, looked back, and that mill was engulfed in smoke and flames!

The old man came to his youngest son. And he lives poorly, his hut is small, just clean.

Give me, - says the old man, - good people, at least a crust of bread! And to the younger one:

Go to the hut, grandfather, there they will feed you and give you something to take with you.

He comes to the hut. The hostess looked at him, saw that he was in rags, shabby, and took pity on him.

I went to the cage, brought a shirt and pants, and gave it to him. He put it on. And as he began to put on this shirt, the hostess saw a large wound on his chest. She sat the old man down at the table, fed him, and gave him something to drink. And then the owner asks:

Tell me, grandfather, why do you have such a wound on your chest?

Yes,” he says, “I have such a wound that I will soon die from it.” I have one day left to live.

What a disaster! - says the wife. - And there is no medicine for this wound?

There is, he says, one thing, but no one will give it, although everyone can. Then the husband says;

Why not give it? Tell me, what medicine?

Difficult! If the owner sets fire to his hut with all its goods, and covers my wound with ashes from that fire, then the wound will close and heal.

The younger brother thought. He thought for a long time, and then he said to his wife:

What do you think?

“Yes,” the wife replies, “we’ll buy another house, but a good man will die and suddenly no one will be born again.”

Well, if that’s the case, take the children out of the house. They carried the children out and went out themselves. The man looked at the hut - he felt sorry for his goods. I feel sorry for the old man. He took it and set it on fire. The hut got busy and... disappeared. And in her place stood another one - white, tall, elegant.

And the grandfather stands, grinning into his beard.

“I see,” he says, “son, that of the three of you, only you are the only one who has not missed the truth.” Live happily!

Then the youngest son recognized his adopted father, rushed to him, but there was no trace of him.

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

• Who does the old man from the fairy tale symbolize?
• Does wealth and wealth always make people forget about their conscience?
• Do you know rich people who live according to their conscience?
• If you were a wizard, how would you help people remember their conscience?
• How can a conscientious person thank his parents for their care?
• When do you think people were more conscientious: before or now, and why?

Drawing “What Conscience Looks Like”

Ask the children to think about what conscience looks like and then draw an image of the concept. For example: in the form of a mirror, candle, flower, bird. Using the drawings, children explain their images. An exhibition is made from children's drawings: "Wonderful images."

Sketch “Mirror of Conscience”

Children are divided into groups of three. One person has a mirror in his hands. This is the magic mirror of conscience. The other two are friends who quarreled over something. In the dialogue skit, the owner of the mirror of conscience must judge two friends according to his conscience.

Read the story:

CONSCIENCE

(From a hundred Chinese fairy tales)

V. Doroshevich

This happened in ancient times, when chronicles had not yet been written. In those immemorial times, Conscience was born. She was born on a quiet night when everything is on her mind. The river thinks, shining in the moonlight, the reed thinks, frozen, the grass thinks, the sky thinks. That's why it's so quiet. Plants invent flowers at night, the nightingale invents songs, and the stars invent the future.

On such a night, when everyone was thinking, Conscience was born and walked across the earth.

Her life was half good, half bad. During the day no one wanted to talk to her. There's no time for that during the day. There's construction going on, ditches are being dug there.

When she approaches someone, he waves her away with his arms and legs:

Don't you see what's going on around you? Is it time to talk to you?!

But at night my conscience was calm. She went into rich houses and reed huts. She quietly touched the sleeping man's shoulder. He woke up, saw her burning eyes in the darkness and asked:

What do you want?

What did you do today? - Conscience asked.

What did I do? It seems he didn’t do anything like that!

Just think about it.

Is this...

Conscience went to someone else, and the awakened person could not fall asleep until the morning. And much that he did not hear in the noise of the day was heard in the silence of the thoughtful night.

And few people slept; insomnia attacked everyone. Neither doctors nor herbs helped even the rich.

The wise ruler of those places himself did not know a cure for insomnia. Everyone around him owed him money, and all their lives they did nothing but work off their debts to him. When one of the debtors stole a handful of rice from him, the ruler severely punished the thief so that others would not do the same. During the day this turned out to be very wise, because others were really afraid.

And at night Conscience came to the ruler, and then completely different thoughts came into his head: “Why did this man steal? Because there is nothing to eat. Why is there nothing to eat? Because there is no time to earn money, all he does all day is pay off my debts.”

The wise ruler even laughed at these thoughts: “What does this mean, I was robbed, and I’m wrong!”

I laughed, but still couldn’t sleep. His sleepless nights tormented him so much that one day he took it and announced:

I will return to the people all their money, all their lands and all their houses, just let my Conscience leave me alone. At this point the relatives of the wise ruler raised a cry:

It was from sleepless nights that madness attacked him! Everyone complains:

And “she” torments me with insomnia!

Everyone was scared: both rich and poor. And people decided:

You need to ask the wisest scientist in China for advice. No one can help except him!

They equipped the embassy, ​​brought gifts, bowed to the ground many times and explained what they had come for. The scientist listened, thought, smiled and said:

We can help! You can do it in such a way that “she” won’t even have the right to come!

Everyone was so wary.

And the scientist smiled again and said:

Let's make laws! Let's write on the scrolls what a person should do and what not. Mandarins will learn the laws by heart, and let others come to them and ask: is it possible or not?

Then let “she” come and ask: “What did you do today?” “Or else he did what was written in the scrolls.” And everyone will sleep peacefully. Of course, everyone will pay the mandarins: it’s not for nothing that they will stuff their brains with laws.

Everyone here was happy. They began to write what a person should do and what he should not do. And they wrote. And people lived well. Only the very last poor, who had nothing to pay even a mandarin for their conscience, suffered from insomnia. And the others, as soon as Conscience came to them at night, said:

“Why are you bothering us! I acted according to the laws! As it is written in the scrolls! I'm not myself!

We turned over on the other side and fell asleep...

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

• Have you ever experienced pangs of conscience?
• Do you think there is a conscience in every person?
• Which person is called conscientious and which person is called unscrupulous?
• How do you understand the expression: “his conscience spoke in him”?
• Can conscience fall asleep, die, get sick?
• Can a person cure his conscience, and how?

We compose a fairy tale “Birthday of Conscience”

Write a legend about how conscience was born on earth.

Written work

Children receive cards with the names of different professions, for example: doctor, teacher, salesman, builder, and write an essay on the topic of what a representative of a particular profession should be like, and how he should work, so that they would say that he works conscientiously . A book is compiled from the children's writings: "We work conscientiously."

Homework assignment

Children write down the George Washington quote from the lesson epigraph. Ask the children to write a plan of what they must change in themselves in order to always live in friendship with their conscience. For example: always tell the truth, try to put yourself in the shoes of others, pay attention to the suffering of others, be grateful, do not offend the weak, etc.

Homework

Children read out their plans and, together with the teacher, draw up a general plan “Friendship with Conscience”, which is posted on the stand. The teacher invites the children to keep a notebook “Conversation with Conscience”, in which they should write down how they succeed or, conversely, fail to live in friendship with their conscience.

THE MYSTERY OF MERCY

All the gold in the world has no value;
Only those merciful deeds are eternal
that we are capable of doing
for the sake of your neighbors.

Adolf Prieto

Game "Who will be saved"

Ask the children to imagine that they are walking through the desert and give them roles, for example: old man, mother, child, father, guide, etc. The game involves five to ten people, the rest are judges. The teacher lays out cards on the table that contain everything that a person can take with him on a trip, for example: a car, a horse, a camel, a bottle of water, a book, a bag of dried fruits, a warm blanket, a shovel, sandwiches, etc. There should be five times more cards than players. The teacher sets a situation, for example: you need to cross the desert in a week. Children take turns tossing the cube and taking as many cards from the table as the number of numbers on the cube. Then they tell what they will do with what they got, for example: they will not take it with them, they will share it with someone, they will use it only for themselves. Judges decide whether a person has disposed of his or her property correctly. After the game, the children and the teacher discuss how the kindness and mercy shown during the game helped them cross the desert.

Questions and tasks for conversation:

• Is it worth being merciful in our time?
• Who needs mercy and compassion most?
• Is it worth telling everyone about your merciful deeds and expecting gratitude for them?
• Is it possible to blame other people for not showing mercy?
• Is it easy for you to show mercy to whom and in what situations?
• Are there people unworthy of mercy?
• Do you know any charities whose activities are based on mercy and compassion? Would you like to work in such an organization, and why?
• Do you think giving alms is an act of mercy or not?

Read the story:

KEY OF THE MERCIFUL ENEMY

V. Nemirovich-Danchenko

The caravan walked through the desert... The sun was burning. The golden mounds of sand disappeared into the dazzling distance. The sky was drowning in an opalescent sheen. There is a white winding line ahead of the road... In fact, it was not there. The carcasses of fallen camels seemed like a road here. The wells were left behind, and the pilgrims took water with them for two days. Only tomorrow will they be able to reach the oasis with stunted palm trees. In the morning I could still see in the distance wonderful hazes with blue waters and shady groves. Now the mirages are gone. Everything froze under the stern gaze of the merciless sun... The riders swayed sleepily, following the guide. Someone began to sing, but in the desert and the song falls on the soul with tears. And the singer immediately fell silent. Silence... All you could hear was the uniform rustle of thin legs plunging into the sand, and the rustling of silk curtains behind which dark-skinned Bedouins were hiding from the heat. Everything froze, even the human soul! At least the caravan encountered a dying Arab on the way; nearby lay a driven horse, white on the golden sand; the rider, wrapping his head in a white burnous, laid it on the lifeless body of his friend... The camels passed by dispassionately. None of the people even turned their heads to where, from under the white crack, the gaze of someone dying in the desert sharply and greedily followed them... The entire caravan had already passed him. Only the old man, riding behind, suddenly got off the saddle and leaned over the Arab.

- What's wrong with you?

- Drink! — that was all the dying man could say. The old man looked after the caravan - it was slowly

moved into the dazzling distance, no one looked back. The old man raised his head high, and from there he suddenly felt something, some kind of breeze penetrating his soul... The old man took off the bottles of water, first washed the face and mouth of the dying man, then gave him a sip... another.

The dying man's face became animated.

-Are you from the Ommiad family?

“Yes...” answered the old man.

- I guessed by the sign on your hand... I am from the El-Hamids. We are mortal enemies...

- In the desert, in the face of Allah, we are only brothers. Drink!.. I'm old, you're young. Drink and live...

The dying man greedily fell to the furs... The old man put him on his camel...

- Go and tell your people about the revenge of one of the Ommiads.

“I still don’t have much time left to live.”

- Let's go together.

- It is forbidden. The camel is small, it cannot withstand such weight.

The Arab hesitated. But he was young, fame and love awaited him. He sat down silently... Stopped...

- Do you have relatives?

- Nobody! - answered the old man.

- Goodbye!

The one who remained looked after him for a long time... He deceived his enemy. The old man had children, but they were famous as brave warriors... They no longer needed him.

The caravan disappeared into the dazzling distance... The sun was burning... The sky was drowning in an opal shine. The old man wrapped his head in a blanket and lay down with his face to the ground.

Several months have passed.

The same desert. The same golden mounds. The same caravan was heading back. The pilgrims also took water with them for two days in the last oasis... The riders on tired camels swayed sleepily, and suddenly the guide stopped...

- What's there? - he pointed into the distance. The pilgrims who were catching up with him also looked there in amazement... There, among the endless sands, greenery was visible. Tall, proud palm trees stretched out, a spring gurgled between the lush bushes, and the cheerful babble of cool streams filled the languid, ominous silence of the surrounding desert... Bright flowers greeted the weary travelers with a delicate fragrance, as if with a gentle greeting.

The incorrupt body of a merciful old man lay by the stream. He was picked up, wrapped in silk veils and taken to the oasis of his family.

The Arabs say that a new spring flowed from the deepest bowels of the earth at the command of Allah, where a few drops of water from the old sheikh's bellows fell into the sand. The Bedouins call this wonderful oasis the key of the merciful enemy.

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

• Why do you think the old man showed mercy?
• What would you do if you were a young Arab? Was it possible to find some way out to save the two of them?
• Why did an oasis appear where the merciful old man died?
• Imagine that you are driving through the desert and you run out of water. What will you do?

Written work

Write down Adolf Prieto's quote from the lesson's epigraph, and then write how you would change your life to be more compassionate.

Drawing “Oasis of Mercy”

Imagine that every act of kindness turns into a blooming oasis in the desert. Draw such an oasis and tell us what needs to change on earth for all deserts to turn into oases, and whether this is possible.

Creative task “Help Project”

Divide the children into groups. Each group must draw up a project for the activities of a charitable organization. Children should write:

• What will their organization be called?
• Who will she help?
• Under what conditions will people work there?
• Who will finance it;
• Its basic principles, etc.

After representatives from the groups talk about their projects, the children discuss which of them and how they can be implemented within the school.

Homework assignment

Invite the children to create their own plan for activities within the framework of a charity project.

Homework

Together with the teacher, children discuss their plans and draw up a general plan of activities. Then "Help Project" is hung on the stand, and the children begin to implement it.

PHILOSOPHY OF LOVE

Love is the lamp that illuminates the Universe;
without the light of love the earth would turn
into a barren desert, and man -
in a handful of dust.

Mary Braddon

Theoretical task “Thinking about love”

Children are divided into groups so that some groups have only boys, and others only girls. Children must write how a man’s love differs from a woman’s love, and what a woman and a man should be like for true love to be born between them.

Then representatives from the groups read out the children's answers. The teacher, together with the children, compares the opinions of boys and girls.

Questions and tasks for conversation:

• Can you imagine your life without love?
• Do you think a person should love himself? Do you love yourself?
• Does love have its own laws? List them.
• What is the difference between love and infatuation?
• Can love for another person be stronger than love for oneself? When is this possible?
• What do you think is self-love? Can you call yourself a proud person? Do you think this feeling hinders or helps a person in life?

Read a fairy tale

NIGHTINGALE AND ROSE

O. Wilde

“She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses,” exclaimed the young Student, “but there is not a single red rose in my garden.”

The Nightingale heard him, in his nest on the Oak, and, surprised, looked out from the foliage.

Not a single red rose in my entire garden! - the Student continued to complain. - Oh, on what trifles happiness sometimes depends! I have read everything that wise people have written, I have comprehended all the secrets of philosophy, and my life is ruined because I do not have a red rose.

Here he is, finally, a real lover,” Nightingale said to himself. - Night after night I sang about him, night after night I told the stars about him, and finally I saw him. His hair is dark like a dark hyacinth, and his lips are red like the rose he seeks; but passion made his face pale as ivory, and grief left its mark on his brow.

“Tomorrow evening the prince is giving a ball,” whispered the young Student, “and my sweetheart is invited.” If I bring her a red rose, she will dance with me until dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I will hold her in my arms, she will lean her head on my shoulder, and my hand will squeeze her hand. But there is no red rose in my garden, and I will have to sit alone and it will pass by. She won't even look at me, and my heart will break with grief.

This is a real lover,” said Nightingale. - What I only sang about, he experiences in reality; What is joy for me is pain for him. Truly love is a miracle. She is more precious than an emerald and more beautiful than the finest opal. Pearls and Garnets cannot buy it, and it is not put on the market.

“Musicians will sit in the choirs,” continued the young student, “they will play harps and violins, and my dear will dance to the sound of the strings. But she won't want to dance with me because I don't have a red rose for her.

And the young man fell face down on the grass, covered his face with his hands and began to cry.

What is he crying about? - asked a small green Lizard, who crawled past him, wagging his tail.

Yes, really, what about? - picked up the Butterfly, fluttering in pursuit of a sunbeam.

“He is crying about a red rose,” answered the Nightingale.

Oh red rose! - everyone exclaimed. - Oh, how funny!

Only the Nightingale understood the Student’s suffering; he sat quietly on the Oak and thought about the mystery of love.

But then he spread his dark wings and soared into the air. He flew over the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow he flew over the garden. In the middle of the green lawn stood a lush Rose Bush. The nightingale saw him, flew up to him and descended onto one of his branches.

“My roses are white,” he answered, “they are white as sea foam, they are whiter than the snow on the mountain peaks.” Go to my brother, who grows near the old sundial, maybe he will give you what you ask for.

And the Nightingale flew to the Rose Bush that grew near the old sundial.

Give me a red rose,” he exclaimed, “and I will sing you my best song!”

But Rosebush shook his head.

“My roses are yellow,” he answered, “they are yellow, like the hair of a siren sitting on an amber throne, they are yellower than the golden blossom in an unmown meadow.” Go to my brother, who grows under the Student’s window, maybe he will give you what you ask for.

And the Nightingale flew to the Rose Bush that grew under the Student’s window.

Give me a red rose,” he exclaimed, “and I’ll sing you my best song!”

But Rosebush shook his head.

“My roses are red,” he answered, “they are red as the feet of a dove, they are redder than the corals that sway like a fan in the caves at the bottom of the ocean.” But the blood in my veins has frozen from the winter cold, the frost has killed my buds, and this year I will have no roses at all.

Just one red rose - that’s all I ask,” exclaimed the Nightingale. - One and only red rose! Do you know a way to get it?

“I know,” replied the Rose Bush, “but it is so terrible that I do not have the courage to reveal it to you.”

Open it to me,” Nightingale asked, “I’m not afraid.”

“If you want to get a red rose,” said the Rose Bush, “you must create it yourself from the sounds of a song in the moonlight, and you must stain it with the blood of your heart.” You must sing to me, pressing your chest against my thorn. All night you must sing to me, and my thorn will pierce your heart, and your living blood will pour into my veins and become my blood.

“Death is a dear price for a red rose,” exclaimed the Nightingale. - Life is sweet to everyone! How nice it is, sitting in the forest, to admire the sun in a golden chariot and the moon in a chariot of pearls. Sweet is the fragrance of the hawthorn, sweet are the bluebells in the valley and the heather blooming on the hills. But Love is more precious than Life, and the heart of some bird is nothing in comparison with the human heart!

And the Student was still lying in the grass where the Nightingale had left him, and the tears had not yet dried in his beautiful eyes.

Rejoice! - Nightingale shouted to him. - Rejoice, you will have a red rose. I will create it from the sounds of my song in the moonlight and stain it with the hot blood of my heart. As a reward, I ask you one thing: be faithful to your love, for, no matter how wise Philosophy is, there is more Wisdom in Love than in Philosophy - and no matter how powerful Power is, Love is stronger than any Power. She has wings the color of flame, and her body is colored with flame. Her lips are sweet like honey, and her breath is like incense.

The student stood up on his elbows and listened, but he did not understand what the Nightingale was telling him, for he knew only what was written in the books. And the Oak understood and was saddened, because he loved this little bird very much, which had made a nest for itself in its branches.

“Sing me your song one last time,” he whispered. - I will be very sad when you are gone.

And the Nightingale began to sing to the Oak, and his singing resembled the murmur of water pouring from a silver jug.

When the Nightingale finished singing, the Student got up from the grass, took a pencil and notebook from his pocket and said to himself, heading home from the grove:

Yes, he is a master of form, this cannot be taken away from him. But does he have a feeling? I'm afraid not. In essence, he is like most artists: a lot of virtuosity and not a drop of sincerity... He will never sacrifice himself to another. He only thinks about music, and everyone knows that art is selfish.

And he went to his room, lay down on a narrow bed and began to think about his love; he soon fell asleep.

When the moon shone in the sky, the Nightingale flew to the Rose Bush, sat down on its branch and pressed itself against its thorn. All night he sang, pressing his chest against the thorn, and the cold crystal moon listened, bowing his face. All night he sang, and the thorn pierced his chest deeper and deeper, and warm blood oozed out drop by drop. He sang about how love creeps into the hearts of a boy and a girl. And on the Rose Bush, on the topmost shoot, a magnificent rose began to bloom. Song after song - petal after petal. At first the rose was pale, like a light mist over a river, pale like the feet of dawn, and silvery like the wings of dawn. The reflection of a rose in a silver mirror, the reflection of a rose in still water - this is what the rose was like, blooming on the upper shoot of the Bush.

And the Bush shouted to the Nightingale to press him even tighter to the thorn.

The Nightingale pressed tighter and tighter to the thorn, and his song sounded louder and louder, for he sang about the birth of passion in the souls of a man and a girl.

And the rose petals turned a gentle blush, like the groom’s face when he kisses his bride on the lips. But the thorn had not yet penetrated the Nightingale’s heart, and the rose’s heart remained white, for only the living blood of a nightingale’s heart can stain the heart of a rose.

Again the Rosebush shouted to the Nightingale to cling tighter to the thorn.

Hold me tighter, dear Nightingale, otherwise the day will come before the rose turns red!

The nightingale pressed even harder against the thorn, and the tip finally touched his heart, and a severe pain suddenly pierced his whole body. The pain became more and more painful, the Nightingale’s singing was heard louder and louder, for he sang about Love that finds perfection in Death, about that Love that does not die in the grave.

And the magnificent rose became scarlet, like the morning dawn in the east. Her crown became scarlet, and her heart became scarlet, like a ruby. And the Nightingale’s voice grew weaker and weaker, and now his wings fluttered convulsively, and his eyes were clouded with fog.

Look! - exclaimed Bush. - The rose has turned red! But the Nightingale did not answer anything. He lay dead

in the tall grass, and he had a sharp thorn in his heart. At noon the Student opened the window and looked out into the garden.

Oh, what happiness! - he exclaimed. - Here it is, a red rose. I have never seen such a beautiful rose in my life! It probably has some long Latin name.

And he leaned out of the window and tore it off. Then he took his hat and ran to the Professor, holding a rose in his hands. The professor's daughter sat at the threshold and wound blue silk onto a spool.

You promised that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose! - exclaimed the Student.

This is the reddest rose in the world. Pin it close to your heart in the evening, and when we dance, she will tell you how much I love you.

But the girl frowned.

I'm afraid this rose won't go with my toilet,

She answered. “Besides, the chamberlain’s nephew sent me real stones, and everyone knows that stones are much more valuable than flowers.”

How ungrateful you are! - the Student said bitterly and threw the rose on the ground.

Rose fell into a rut and was crushed by a cart wheel.

Ungrateful? - the girl repeated. - Really, what a rude person you are! And who are you, after all? I don’t think you had silver buckles for your shoes like the chamberlain’s nephew.

And she got up from her chair and went into the room.

What stupidity this Love is, the Student thought, returning home. - It doesn’t have half the benefit that Logic has. She doesn’t prove anything, she always promises the impossible and makes you believe in the impossible. It is surprisingly impractical, and since our age is a practical age, I would rather return to Philosophy and study Metaphysics.

And he returned to the room, pulled out a large dusty book and began to read it.

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

• What gives a person the ability to fall in love and love?
• Do you think the Student will ever change his mind about love?
• What would happen in the world if all people believed only in science, and considered love an unnecessary and impractical thing?
• Do you agree with the words of the nightingale: “Love is more precious than Life, and the heart of some bird is nothing in comparison with the human heart!”?
• How did the Nightingale feel about love?
• What does the image of the nightingale symbolize in this fairy tale?
• What does it mean to accomplish a feat in the name of love? Tell us about people who accomplished a feat in the name of love.

Written work

The fairy tale gives very beautiful definitions of love. Write them down and then write your definition of love.

Scene “Dispute about love”

Divide the children into pairs. In a dialogue skit, one person convinces another that love is stupidity and a waste of time, and the other proves that without love a person cannot be happy.

Drawing “Light of Love”

Ask the children to write down Mary Braddon's quote from the lesson's epigraph and think about why love is often compared to light. Then children draw an image of love in the form of some light source, for example: a candle, sun, star, etc. An exhibition is made from children's drawings: "Symbol of love."

Homework assignment

Find materials about the life of a scientist or philosopher who believed that love for people was the driving force of progress; write a story about this person and write down his statements about love.

For example: Mikhail Lomonosov, Albert Einstein, Vlez Pascal, Nikolai Pirogov, Pythagoras, Aristotle, Cicero and others.

Homework

Children talk about the lives of different scientists. A book is compiled from the children's work: "Scientists about love."

TRUE WEALTH

Creative task “What is more expensive”

Ask the children to list everything that people cannot exist without, for example: without water, air, food, warmth, love, care, etc. All of the above is written in two columns. The first column contains material concepts, the second column contains intangible concepts.

Divide the children into groups and ask them to choose one word from each column. Children must come up with two situations when something becomes true wealth for a person. After representatives from the groups describe their situations, the teacher discusses with the children how to learn to appreciate this or that true wealth in their lives.

Questions and tasks for conversation:

• Tell us how something simple and familiar became the greatest wealth in the world for you.
• What kind of person can be called truly rich?
• What kind of person do you consider yourself: poor or rich? Would you like to get rich? If you found treasure, what would you use it for?
• If you had to choose between wealth, health and beauty, what would you choose?
• What do you think is your country's greatest wealth?

BARREL OF FRESH WATER

L. Green

The boat approached the shore. Exhausted from fourteen hours of rowing, Ritter and Klaus hardly pulled the boat with the front part of the keel onto the sand between the rocks and tied it tightly to the stone so that the boat would not be carried away by the ebb tide. In front of them, behind a barrier of rocks and huge blocks of quartz piled up by an earthquake, lay a mountain range covered with eternal snow. Behind, to the horizon, under a dazzling blue, completely clear sky, a sleeping ocean unfolded - water smooth as blue glass.

The swollen, unshaven faces of the sailors twitched, their dull eyes sparkled feverishly. The lips were cracked and blood was oozing from the cracks at the corners of the mouth. A bottle of water, given from a special supply by skipper Hutchinson, was drunk during the night.

The schooner Belfort, sailing from Caldero to Val Paraiso with a cargo of wool, was caught in a calm at a distance of fifty nautical miles from the coast. The water supply was sufficient for several days of voyage with a fair wind, but very small during prolonged calm. The ship had been lying on calm water for eleven days; No matter how much Hutchinson reduced the portions of water, it only lasted for a week. At night it was a little easier, but as the sun rose, all six sailors of the schooner, Hutchinson and his assistant Revley almost did not get out of the water, holding on to the ropes thrown over the side in case sharks appeared. The thirst was so excruciating that everyone stopped eating and was shaking with fever, as many times a day they passed from the coolness of an exhaustingly long swim to the scorching heat.

All this happened due to the fault of Hutchinson, who was waiting for the wind from day to day. If a boat had been sent to the shore in a timely manner to bring a two-hundred-liter barrel of fresh water, the crew would not now be wandering around, like shadows, in despondency and powerlessness. Ritter and Clauson stood firmest. They drank their daily quarter liter of water at night, after sunset, so that, having suffered through the day, during which they alleviated their suffering by bathing, in the evening they quenched their thirst at least halfway. The sailors who drank a portion of water during the day, as soon as they received it, soon lost this moisture, and Ritter and Clauson were still able to sleep at night, while others were tormented by insomnia, poisoned by visions of rivers and lakes.

By the evening of the tenth day, the team was overcome by despair. Old Man Hutchinson could hardly move. The cook, dying of dysentery, lay among the sewage, rarely regaining consciousness and begging everyone to finish him off. Two sailors lay helplessly on their bunks in wet clothes so that at least some moisture could be absorbed through their skin. One sailor, secretly from Hutchinson, drank from time to time sea water mixed with vinegar; Now, half mad from incredible torment, he wandered along the side, wanting and not daring to commit suicide. The fourth sailor sucked a piece of skin from morning to evening to produce saliva. This sailor repeatedly pestered the assistant skipper Volt so that he would announce a lot for the death of one of the crew for the sake of several liters of blood.

Only two people could still move - these were Ritter and Clauson. Hutchinson persuaded them to go to the shore for water. From the last supply they were given a bottle of muddy water. In the evening, Ritter and Clauson left with a two-hundred-liter barrel, two guns, a pack of tobacco and three kilos of biscuits. In the morning they landed on the shore with their hearts fading from mad thirst...

Staggering, falling from exhaustion, the sailors climbed over the barrier of huge stones and entered a deep crevice among the rocks, where, amid the shadows and dampness, there was a languid smell of water. Soon they heard the steady sound of a running water and, almost blinded by the desire to drink, began to rush from side to side, not noticing the stream, which, ten steps in front of them, washed the convex bottom of the rock. Finally Clauson saw water. He ran to the rock and, stretching out on his face, plunged his face into the cold stream. The more patient Ritter filled the bucket and sat down with it on the rocks, placing the bucket between his knees.

Klaus, choking, swallowed the water, not noticing that he was crying from relief combined with nausea, because his stomach, having become unaccustomed to large amounts of cold liquid, initially resisted the excessive amount of water. Clauson vomited twice before he finally filled his stomach with water. It seemed to him, despite this, that his thirst was not yet quenched. Taking a breath, the sailor, rising above the water in his arms, looked at her blankly, and then, sighing blissfully, fell again to the saving source.

With the same convulsions, suffering and blissful, Ritter got drunk. He drank more than half the bucket. His strong stomach returned nothing to the stream. The water acted on the sufferers like wine. Their senses were extremely heightened, their hearts were beating loudly and quickly, their heads were burning.

That's the thing! - Clauson shouted. - I never thought that I would survive! I started going crazy.

Ho-ho,” Ritter shouted. - Uh, good! The water is real! Wait, brothers. There will be a barrel of water for you! We'll arrive in the evening, we just need to sleep.

Their thirst was not completely quenched as quickly as one might think. It's not just a matter of filling your stomach with water. Time must pass until the moisture penetrates the blood vessels through the internal pathways of the body and there dilutes the blood, which has thickened from a long lack of water. Clauson tried to drink several more times, but Ritter stopped him.

“You could die,” he said. - It won’t take long to get drunk. You will become completely swollen and black. Refrain. Let's go to bed and sleep.

While they were sleeping, the sun moved to the other edge of the gorge and illuminated a gold nugget embedded high in the sheer surface of the rock, reminiscent of a knot of golden roots protruding from quartz. It seemed as if gold had flared under the burning ray of the sun. The nugget, which had been dormant for a thousand years over an unknown stream, scattered its soft light like a swirl of fine, golden dust.

Waking up, the sailors were strong and alive, as many days ago. They ate, drank again, and pretty soon filled the barrel in the boat with stream water. Arriving at the stream for the last time to grab, in addition to the barrel, two more full buckets of water, the sailors sat down on the stones. Both were wet with sweat. Wiping his forehead with his hand, the heated Clauson raised his head and examined the heights of the sheer cliffs.

When he saw the nugget, he didn’t believe his eyes at first. Clauson stood up, stepped towards the rock, and looked around in alarm. A minute later he asked Ritter:

Do you see anything on the rock?

Yes, I see,” said Ritter, “I see, to my horror, gold that will not help our team escape. And if you remember your torment, you will no longer think about it. We must bring them water, bring them life.

Clauson just sighed. He remembered his torment, and he did not contradict.

The boat headed towards the ship.

Questions and tasks for the story;

• By what means can a person retain moisture in the body for a long time under extreme conditions?
• Why couldn't the sailors take both water and gold with them? What would you do in their place?
• Have there been times in your life when you were without water or food for a long time? How did you feel when you quenched your thirst or hunger? How did your attitude towards water or food change after this?
• Come up with and tell us how you can quench your thirst if you are in the forest (sea, desert, among rocks) and you have no water.
• What products should you take on a trip so that they can help in case of lack of water?

Sketch “When we appreciate simple things”

Divide the children into pairs. One person from a couple proves that only in extreme situations can things like water, light, food, warmth be appreciated; and the other convinces him that in everyday life a person should appreciate that without which one cannot exist.

Read the story:

SINK OF ABUNDANCE

German legend

There were not always as many fish in the North Sea as there are now. There was a time when it was impossible to catch a single fish there, because for a very long time both animals, fish, and people lived differently. Then the fish of some sea lived only in it, and the animals did not go further than the edge of their forest. Therefore, the fishermen caught and caught and finally caught all the fish in the North Sea. People began to think and wonder what they should do now: after all, the inhabitants of the coast lived only on fish.

Fortunately, there lived at that time a young and strong fisherman named Hans. His eyes were blue and deep, like a clear, calm sea, and his hair was golden like the rye straw that covers the roofs of houses in those parts. But what is most important is that a generous heart beat in Hans’s chest, full of love for all people. He could not calmly watch how adults suffered and children starved. One fine day, Hans got ready and went to the oldest fisherman on the entire coast. He not only lived for many years, but also sailed in many seas, and therefore much was revealed to him. When Hans came to him, he was basking in the sun at the threshold of his hut.

What, grandfather, needs to be done so that there are fish in our sea again? - Hans asked, saying hello.

Only the Queen of the Seas can help, son. She has power over all sea inhabitants and can give us fish and abundance.

How to get to it?

It is very difficult to get to the Queen of the Seas. You need to get through storms and hurricanes to the middle of the sea and call her. You only have to waver, and the queen will not respond to the call, otherwise she will take you and destroy you.

I have nothing to lose! - Hans said firmly, thanked the old man for the advice and, burning with impatience, ran along the sand dunes to the reeds, where his boat had been standing idle for a long time.

The young man pushed her into the water and sat on the oars. He rowed for a long time without a break. Waves rose towards him. They grew higher and higher, playing with the boat like a piece of wood, now throwing it onto the foamy ridges, now throwing it deep into the abyss, as if they were going to drag it to the very bottom. The water walls were so high that every time the young man felt as if he had fallen into a bottomless well - only an insignificant piece of blue sky shone above his head. But the young fisherman’s heart never wavered. So he rowed all day and all night. The waves gradually decreased, subsided, and by morning they completely disappeared. The water became calm, and Hans guessed that he had reached the middle of the sea: after all, excitement always begins from the middle of the sea and increases closer to the shores, but here eternal peace reigns.

Hans leaned over the side and shouted:

Show yourself, queen of the seas, fisherman Hans is calling you!

The motionless greenish surface rippled slightly, shook, and a wondrous beauty with a golden crown on her head appeared from the water.

“You, Hans, are a fearless young man, and I am ready to fulfill your every wish,” she said.

“I have one and only wish,” the young fisherman said with a bow. Send fish to our sea. There is not a single fish left there, and the inhabitants of the coast have nothing to earn a living. Children are starving.

Making your wish come true is easy. Wait!

And the queen disappeared into the depths of the sea. A little later she surfaced near the boat itself. In her hands a large white shell glistened with mother-of-pearl. The Queen gave it to Hans with the words:

This is the shell of abundance. My fish flocks flock to her. Just put it in the net and you will catch all the fish in the sea. But this can only be done three times. The fourth time it will fall into thousands of pieces and lose its magical properties. Remember that today it was pulled out for the first time...

Oh, I thank you from the bottom of my heart! - Hans exclaimed. “I will not forget your instructions...

Happy sailing and good fishing! - The Queen of the Seas waved her hand and disappeared into the waves.

The young fisherman admired the white shell, then carefully placed it on the bottom of the boat and took up the oars. He rowed to his native shores, and all the time, schools of fish rushed to the boat from everywhere, as if enchanted.

Well, thought Hans, I, of course, can catch all the fish in the sea, sell them and become the richest man. But this can only happen twice; on the third, the shell will disintegrate, and the sea will again be left without fish. What should I do? However, he did not think for long. The closer he swam to his native shores, the louder and more insistent the voice sounded in his heart: “If the shell of abundance disintegrates, the fish will disappear forever!”

And at the tony, where local fishermen went to fish, Hans picked up a large white shell and stood up. He looked at the shell for a long time, as if he wanted to remember it for the rest of his life, then he leaned over the side and lowered it into the sea. She quickly began to dive into the water and soon sank to the bottom. Schools of fish stretched out to the sea, and Hans hurried home to call his comrades to fish. Since then, fish have always been found in abundance in the North Sea.

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

• Do you think Hans became richer or poorer after he parted with the shell, and why?
• What is the greatest wealth on earth for you? Tell us what earthly wealth a person cannot exist without.
• What is the spiritual wealth of a person? Tell us about people you consider spiritually rich.

Written work

Divide the sheet into two halves. On one half write the best things about you, and on the other half write the best things about you. Compare both lists.

Read the story:

ABOUT THE TSAR AND HIS SON

Georgian fairy tale

There lived one great king. As he grew old and the time had come for him to die, he called his only son and heir and said:

My son, you see for yourself - I already have one foot in the grave, not today or tomorrow I will die, and you will be left alone, and the whole kingdom will be in your hands. Go and build yourself a safe home wherever you find it necessary, so that in times of grief or need you can find shelter for yourself.

The son obeyed his father and immediately went to carry out his order. He took with him more money, walks around the whole kingdom and, wherever he likes the place - be it a mountain, a valley, a village or a wild forest, he builds himself beautiful palaces.

He built so many palaces and returned home satisfied. His father called him and asked:

What, son, have you built a house for yourself according to my word, will you have a place to hide in difficult times?

Yes, father! - says the son. “Wherever I liked the place, in the mountains or in the valley, I built beautiful palaces.

“Woe to you, my son,” says the father, “you didn’t build the houses I told you about.” Empty palaces, son, will not protect you from trouble. I asked you: throughout the kingdom, find honest and faithful people, love them, make friends with them. They will give you a safe haven in difficult times. Know: where a person has a true friend, there will be a home and shelter for him.

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

• What do you think is easier: building a house or finding a reliable friend for life?
• The king compared friendship to a safe haven, what would you compare true friendship to?
• Is there a person in your life who makes you feel like you are in a warm, cozy home?

Game "Who has what wealth"

Divide the children into two groups. Members of one group distribute among themselves members of another group. Then the children write on pieces of paper that in the life of the person they got, this is true wealth. After that, everyone gives their piece of paper to the person they wrote about. At the end of the game, the children discuss with the teacher which of them agrees or, conversely, disagrees with what their classmates wrote about them, and how to find out what true wealth is for a particular person.

Homework assignment

Think and write what is true wealth in your family.

Homework

Using the children’s homework, the teacher compiles a general list of family wealth; and then discusses with the children which of these riches they would like to have in their families, and why. A book is put together from the children's work: "Family Wealth"

THE POWER OF LOVE

One day you'll understand
that love heals everything
and love is all there is in the world.

The driver sits on a chair and is blindfolded. Someone comes up, touches him tenderly and whispers something good to him, trying not to be recognized. The driver's task is to recognize the person who approached him. Then the game repeats. At the end, the teacher asks the children what they experienced during the game.

Questions and tasks for conversation:

• Why is love powerful? Do you agree with this?
• What happens in life thanks to the power of love?
• Do you love life, and what in life do you love most?
• Have there been times in your life when you didn't love life, and why? How would you help a desperate person feel the love of life?
• Tell us about a book (film, work of art) that teaches a person about love.

A. Green

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 could turn everything into 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 press against his head, which was 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 necessarily necessary for him. Talking only to her for three weeks, submitting to her easy and persistent care, Rabid knew that he had begun to love her from the first days, and now getting better 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 Rebalad, please!

When the hour of testing came and the light was installed, with which Rabid could at first 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...

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 with 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 everyone it had changed so much, it even seemed to her that it was not Rabid who was lying there, but someone completely different...

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.

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 raised 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.

At that moment, his image of her, born of darkness, was and remained one that she did not expect.

Questions and tasks for the story:

• Why did the young man think Daisy looked beautiful?
• Does appearance matter if you truly love someone?
• Why do you think people are sometimes self-conscious about their appearance?
• If you fall in love with someone, do you immediately confess your love or after a while?
• Have there been times in your life when someone's love helped you recover?
• Tell us about someone whose love has had a great influence on you.
• Do you think everyone should be loved? Are there people on earth who are not worthy of love?

Drawing “Eyes of lovers”

Draw the eyes of a person in love.

We compose a fairy tale “The Birth of Love”

Where do you think love came from on earth? Write a fairy tale about her birth on earth.

Scene "Let's get to know each other"

Divide the children into pairs so that each pair has a boy and a girl. In a skit-dialogue, children should ask each other such questions and answer them in such a way that each other’s inner world becomes more understandable to them, for example:

• What is the most important thing in life for you?
• What do you value most in people?
• What do you want to do in life? etc.

Homework assignment

Children write down the Gary Zukav quote from the lesson epigraph. Ask the children to find and write down poems or passages of prose about love. Children can compose or learn songs about love, and select reproductions of paintings dedicated to love.

Homework

Invite the children to organize an evening of love, where they read poems and passages from prose, tell fairy tales, sing songs, and show skits. Then all the children's works are collected in a book:

"Talk about Love".

HOW TO BECOME HAPPY

Only those people are truly happy
who have found a person or business for themselves in life,
to love him and belong to him completely,

John Powell

Creative task “What is happiness”

The teacher asks the children to list who or what could be happy, for example: child, family, future, day, circumstance, laughter, home, etc. All of the above is written on the board. Children are divided into groups and choose one thing from what is written on the board. Each group must talk about which child can be called happy, describe a happy laugh, talk about a happy day, etc. Children can give examples from life or literature.

Then the teacher discusses with the children what a person needs to be happy.

Questions and tasks for conversation:

• Do you think there can be any one common happiness for all people on earth?
• Do you agree with the idea that man is created for happiness, and why?
• Can a person always be happy?
• Does a fulfilled wish always bring happiness to a person?
• Can happiness heal a person?
• Have you ever felt happiness while listening to music?
• Why do people sometimes cry out of happiness and joy?

Read a fairy tale

STORIES OF A SUNBEAM

G. Andersen

Now I'll begin! - declared the wind.

No, please! - said the rain. - Now it's my turn! You've been standing on the corner for quite some time and howling at the top of your lungs!

So, thank you for the fact that in your honor I twisted and broke the umbrellas of those gentlemen who did not want to have anything to do with you!

The word is mine! - said the sunbeam. - Attention!

And this was said with such brilliance and grandeur that the wind immediately stretched out to its full length. But the rain still didn’t want to stop, the wind picked up and said:

Will we really tolerate this? He will always break through, this gentleman! Let's not listen to him! Here's something else that's very necessary!

And the sunbeam began:

A swan flew over the stormy sea; his feathers shone like gold; one feather fell out and fell on a large merchant ship gliding across the sea with full sails. The feather got tangled in the curly hair of a young man, a goods overseer. The feather of the bird of happiness touched his pen, turned into a writing pen in his hand, and he soon became a rich merchant who could easily buy gold spurs and exchange a barrel of gold for a noble shield. I myself sparkled with this shield! - added a ray of sunshine.

A swan flew over the green meadow; in the shade of an old lonely tree lay a shepherd boy, a seven-year-old boy, looking at his sheep. The swan kissed one of the leaves of the tree in flight, the leaf fell into the shepherdess’s hand, and from one leaf three, ten, a whole book became! The boy read in it about the wonders of nature, about his native language, about faith and knowledge, and when he went to bed, he hid it under his head so as not to forget what he had read. And so that book brought him first to school, and then to the department of science. I read his name among the names of scientists! - added a ray of sunshine.

The swan flew into the thicket of the forest and went down to rest on a quiet, dark forest lake overgrown with water lilies; Reeds and forest apple trees grew on the shore, and in their branches the cuckoo crowed and forest pigeons cooed.

The poor woman was collecting brushwood here; she had a whole bundle on her back, and a small child lay at her chest. He saw a golden swan, the swan of happiness, which flew out of the reeds. But what was it that glittered there? Golden egg! The woman put it in her bosom, and the egg warmed up, and the living creature inside began to stir. It was already knocking its nose into the shell, and the woman thought that it was her own heart beating.

Arriving home, in her poor hut, she took out a golden egg. “Tick-tock!” - could be heard from it, as if the egg were a gold watch, but it was a real egg, and life was beating in it. The shell cracked, and a small swan covered with golden fluff poked its head out of the egg. He had four gold rings on his neck, and since the woman had three more sons besides the one who was with her in the forest, she immediately guessed that these rings were intended for her children. As soon as she took off the rings, the golden chick flew away.

The woman kissed the rings, gave each child a ring to kiss, placed them on each of their hearts, and then put them on the children’s fingers.

I saw it all! - added a ray of sunshine. - I saw what came out of it.

One of the boys was digging in a ditch, took a lump of clay, began to crush it between his fingers, and a statue of Jason, who obtained the Golden Fleece, came out.

Another boy immediately ran to a meadow overgrown with wonderful, colorful flowers, picked up a whole handful of flowers there, squeezed them tightly in his little hand, and the flower juices splashed right into his eyes, wet his gold ring... Something stirred in the boy’s brain, and hands too, and a few years later in the big city they started talking about a new great painter.

The third boy clenched his ring so tightly with his teeth that it made a sound, an echo of what was hidden in the boy’s heart, and from then on his feelings and thoughts began to pour out in sounds, rise to the sky like singing swans, plunge into the abyss of thought, like swans dive into deep lakes. The boy became a composer; every country can consider it its own.

The fourth boy was a runt, and, as they said, he had a tip on his tongue; he had to be treated to butter and pepper, and a good beating, well, he was treated to it! I gave him my sun kiss! - said the sunbeam. - And not just one, but ten! The boy was of a poetic nature, and he was sometimes given kisses, sometimes treated with clicks, but he still owned the ring of happiness given to him by the golden swan, and his thoughts flew up to the sky like golden butterflies, and the butterfly is a symbol of immortality!

Long story! - said the wind.

And boring! - the rain added. - Blow on me, I can’t come to my senses!

And the wind began to blow, and the sunbeam continued:

The swan of happiness also flew over the deep bay where fishermen were casting their nets. The poorest of the fishermen was getting married. The swan brought him a piece of amber. Amber attracts, and this piece attracted hearts to the fisherman's house. Amber is the most wonderful fragrant incense, and a fragrance began to emanate from the fisherman’s house, as if from a temple; it was the fragrance of nature itself! The poor couple enjoyed family happiness, and their whole life passed like one sunny day!

Isn't it time to stop it? - said the wind. - He talked enough! I miss you!

Me too! - said the rain.

What will we say after listening to these stories? We will say:

Well, that's the end of them!

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

• Why did rain and wind still give way to a ray of sunshine?
• Do you think the sunbeam stories can actually end?
• Who do you think sent a magical swan to earth that brings happiness to people?
• What was the happiness of each of the people gifted with a swan?
• If a person is given creative abilities from childhood, does this mean that he will be happy? What is necessary for him to become happy?

Drawing “Swan of Happiness”

Children write down the quote: “Happiness is a ray of sunshine that can penetrate hundreds of hearts without losing a single particle of its original power...” (Jane Porter)

Ask the children to draw a sunbeam, a swan, or any other image that might remind the person of happiness. Give the drawing to your close friend with wishes of happiness.

We compose a fairy tale “Save happiness”

Choose one of the heroes of the fairy tale and write a story about how this person will manage his happiness and whether he can maintain it for the rest of his life. Children's fairy tales are collected in a book: "Tales of Happiness."

Read the story:

HAPPINESS

N. Wagner

On the seashore, in a wretched shack, a father and two sons lived. The eldest's name was Jacques. He was tall and black-haired. The youngest was called Pavel. Together with their father, they caught fish in the sea with an old large seine and sold it to merchants. The elder was thoughtful and silent. Often in the evenings he sat on the shore, on the sea cliffs, and looked at the sea for a long time. He looked at the large ships leaving for the open sea, and he wanted to sail on these ships there, far away, where the clouds sank into the sea, to distant countries about which he had heard so many wonderful stories.

And Pavel was a cheerful fellow; He almost always smiled warmly at everyone, sang funny songs or played the pipe, which one of the visiting merchants gave him as a gift.

Once a storm overtook them on the boat, and the waves washed everyone ashore, and the old father was severely bruised against a rock. He was sick for a long time and finally died. Dying, he told them:

Thank you for not leaving and feeding me, an old man, with your labors. After my death, there is no longer any reason for you to live here in poverty and earn poor food through hard work. Here's my great-grandmother's ring. Take this ring, and when you come to some city or village, roll it in front of you. If the ring turns around and rolls to your feet, then pass by and move on. If the ring turns around and stops near some house, then in this house one of you will find his happiness. And the other... - But what will happen to the other, the old man did not say. He turned to the wall and died.

The brothers buried their father, sold the hut, the boat, and the old seine and went to seek their fortune. They passed through many towns and villages, and tried everywhere to see if this was where the ring would tell them to stop. But the ring spun and rolled under their feet. Finally, they came to one large village. The brothers entered the village and rolled the ring. It rolled for a long time, and they followed it. Finally, it stopped near a large house with a front garden and a large garden with old linden, pear and apple trees, on which there were many such ruddy, delicious apples. At the garden gate stood a girl who herself looked like a ruddy apple. The girl picked up the ring, which rolled to her feet, gave it to her younger brother and asked: what do the brothers need?

“Happiness,” said Pavel.

The girl laughed and ran away, and the brothers entered the house. They were met by a little old lady in a large white cap.

A! - she said. - You probably came to be hired as workers? Come in here, Mr. Varloo is there,” and she opened the door for them into a large room with lattice windows, and in the middle of the room stood a tall, gray-haired old man, with the same kind, ruddy face and the same dimples on his cheeks as the girl they saw at the gate.

Yeah! - said Mr. Warloo, - you are welcome, welcome! Wow! Yes, you both are so good and healthy. Well! sit down, sit down, you must be very tired,” and he shook their hands and seated them on oak chairs with high backs.

And given the conditions, we will get along, we will certainly get along,” he began when they sat down. And he stated the conditions. For work on the farm and in the garden, in addition to salary, workers had to receive an apartment and maintenance. And the brothers agreed to work for this payment.

And the brothers began to live near the city of Varloo. In the morning they worked on a farm, which was two miles from the house, and at noon they returned and sat down to dine on a large terrace in the garden, along with the owners.

On holidays and Sunday mornings, everyone went to church. There the pastor said that life is a blessing that God gives to all living, and the one who is good is loved by everyone and is happy because everyone loves him.

Is life really happiness? - Pavel sometimes thought. However, he rarely thought, but rather looked at the eyes of Mamzel Lila, the owner’s daughter, the same girl whom the brothers met at the gate, and it seemed to him that there, in those dark blue eyes, lay his happiness. He looked at them so often and for so long that Lila involuntarily turned away, and Pavel blushed and smiled.

Once, when he was getting ready to go to a holiday, Lila said:

Mister Paul, you never wear a hat with ribbons, let me give you one ribbon for your hat. And she tied a long, pink ribbon onto his hat. He walked to the holiday so cheerfully, the wind rustled the ends of the ribbon, and they whispered in his ear: you will be happy, you will be happy!

Another time, in the fall, when they were picking apples in the garden, Lila handed him a rosy apple and said:

G. Paul, I would like this apple to bring you happiness. Eat it for the health of the one you love.

He brought the apple to his room and put it under his pillow, and when everyone in the house fell asleep, he took it out, looked at it for a long time, kissed it and said:

Dear apple, I will eat you for the health of that sweet girl who is dearer to me than anything in the world!..

Yes! - said the apple, - your lip is not stupid, and you will eat me kindly for the health of Mamzel Lila, but first, take a spade and let’s go to the garden, where two old linden trees grow, throw me up there, and where I will fall, here dig the earth and maybe you will find something that will bring you happiness.

Paul took an apple and a spade and went into the garden. Pavel threw the apple up, and it fell right between two linden trees. Then he began to dig the ground and dug out a small chest bound in copper, which was filled with old Dutch ducats...

The next day the brothers bought a rich farm, and a few days later Paul said to Mr. Warloo:

I am rich now, Mr. Warloo, I have a large farm. But I will be the most unfortunate person if you don’t give Mamzel Lila for me!

Yeah! - said Mr. Warloo, - you want to take the best apple from my garden. Okay, you are a kind and honest fellow, you will be happy, I guarantee that, but what will Mamzel Lila say to this?

Oh! Mamzel Lila! - said Pavel, approaching her, - I have long noticed that my happiness lies in your eyes. Give it to me, and I will be the happiest person in the whole world...

Lila extended her hand to him, and hid her face on her mother’s chest. And what a fun wedding of Pavel and Lila it was! The whole village congratulated the newlyweds.

And days after days ran, today is like yesterday. Not much or little time passed - a whole year, Lila already had little Pavel, with the same dimples on his cheeks as big Pavel. In addition, Lila had a favorite - a large motley cow, Mimi, with black, intelligent eyes. There was also a white goat with long hair and a blue ribbon around her neck - Bibi. There was a gray cat Fanny with smooth velvet fur. When little Pavel was born, at the same time and on the same day, Mimi gave birth to a small red heifer, Bibi - a pretty little white goat, and Fanny's cat gave birth to as many as six little beady kittens with a white spot on the neck. Everyone was happy about this.

Only Jacques was not happy about anything. He always walked alone, gloomy and thoughtful. When everyone was having fun at common family holidays, he would go far and return home late at night.

Listen, my dear brother, my dear Jacques,” Pavel told him, “why aren’t you cheerful, why don’t you want to be happy, like me?

No,” answered Jacques, “I will never be happy like you, never, never!” There are many people living a life like you, and they are happy just like Mimi, Bibi and Fanny are happy. But if everything stopped at this happiness, then the whole world would have long ago turned into Mimi, Bibi and Fanny. Only this has never happened and will never happen, because every person has moments when he is drawn somewhere into the distance, to a new life, and good luck to the one who follows this powerful voice, who does not drown it out and does not fall asleep on the little things in life.

And he went into the deep forest; there around him old hundred-year-old oak trees grew and rustled with their thick leaves.

What are they making noise about, Jacques thought, and what kind of power is in them? A man will cut down a tree, kill it, but will never know what and how it lived!

And there was silence all around, only the tall oak trees were rustling with their tops, and his heart was beating, and he heard it as if it were uttering the same word: forward, forward, forward! And his thoughts ran and streamed in his head like shadows on the grass, and the dark night had long since fallen on the grass and the forest.

Darkness, eternal darkness! - Jacques whispered, and tears appeared in his eyes, tears of powerlessness.

God,” he said, “where is the light?”

And at times it seemed to him that suddenly there, in a distant clearing, a bright white light flashed through the branches and illuminated the entire clearing and trees. All frightened, overjoyed, he ran towards this clearing, he heard how hard his heart was beating in his chest and saying with some kind of pain: forward, forward, forward! But as soon as he ran into the clearing, the light quickly disappeared or went into the forest and drowned in the fog over the swamp.

With heavy melancholy he looked at the sky. A full month floated there and seemed to ask him: what do you need?

Oh, I need to fly to you and see what’s going on with you, then fly to these bright stars that twinkle so high, and tell people everything about everything, so that for them everything will become as bright and clear as you are bright, bright month!

Finally, Jacques could not stand it anymore. He took some money from what Pavel had found, said goodbye to Lila and everyone, and set off on his way.

“Oh, why are you leaving us, Mr. Jacques,” everyone told him, “we all love you so much, and life is so good here!.. What do you lack in life? And aren’t you ashamed to look for some kind of chimera?..

But Jacques did not listen to any arguments or admonitions. He put on his knapsack, took his long stick and left the village... Walking through villages and towns, he took off the ring that brought Pavel happiness from his finger, and rolled it along the road, as his father bequeathed to him, but the ring constantly rolled forward and, without turning anywhere, it fell straight onto the road.

Apparently, my happiness is on the road! - Jacques said, smiling and walked forward cheerfully.

He stopped and lived in big cities, where there were big schools, many scientists and even more books of all kinds. He read a lot, learned a lot, and along with knowledge, quiet joy and bright peace descended into his heart.

He made many different discoveries and traveled a lot. He was beyond the seas, in those distant wonderful countries that he dreamed of, sitting on the rocks of the sea, when he was a poor, dark fisherman. He endured a lot of labor and hardship, but all this hard work yielded a rich harvest, and he was happy with the fruits of these labors.

“I have done little,” he said, “on this long path, but still I have moved people at least a little there, into this mysterious world, to the eternal stars that twinkle so inaccessibly above our heads in inaccessible beauty!..

Finally he reached a ripe old age. Almost everyone knew and respected him in the big city where he lived. Once he was sitting in front of the open window, reading a large book. He sat and thought for a long time about unsolved mysteries, about the future happiness of people. And suddenly!.. Yes, everyone saw it clearly through the window - some special light flashed in front of him, but what he saw in this light - no one recognized it, because when the servants arrived, he was no longer in alive. He sat calmly and seemed to smile in his sleep with a smile of deep happiness.

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

• Which of the two brothers do you think is happier?
• If a person is drawn somewhere by his inner voice, should he always follow it?
• What made Jacques different from other people?
• Why are there always fewer people like Jacques on earth?
• Which of the two brothers would you like to become friends with, and why?
• Who are you more like: Jacques or Pavel?
• Imagine you have a son and he looks like Jacques. If he one day decides to go in search of happiness, what will you tell him as a parting word?
• Why do you think Jacques never started a family?
• What kind of light do you think flashed before Jacques at the end of his life?

Sketch “How to become happy”

Ask the children to write on a piece of paper, without signing them, any wishes the fulfillment of which will bring them happiness. The teacher collects the leaves and puts them in a box. Then the children divide into pairs and take one piece of paper from the box. One person of the couple is Paul and the other is Jacques. Everyone must tell how, from his point of view, one can achieve the fulfillment of one or another desire, and prove that he is right with examples from life or literature.

Written work

People often use various proverbs about happiness: don’t be born beautiful, but be born happy; Money doesn't buy happiness; there was no happiness but misfortune helped. Write how you understand these proverbs, and the wisdom of which of them you have experienced.

Ladies task

Children write down the John Powell quote from the lesson epigraph. Ask the children to write a few rules for themselves and for each member of their family that will help everyone become happier.

Homework

Discuss with your children what needs to be done so that the rules of happiness that they have come up with come true.

BE RESPONSIBLE

Each person is responsible to all people,
for all people and for everything

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Creative task “The King and the Ministers”

Children are divided into groups and receive cards with any government problems, for example:

• An influenza epidemic began in the state;
• The birth rate has decreased in the state;
• The neighbors declared a war of conquest;
• A drought began in the state, etc.

In each group, one person is the king, the rest are ministers. The ministers take turns expressing their opinions to the king on a particular issue. After listening to all the ministers, the king must come to a decision. Then the “kings” from each group tell the other groups about their decisions. After the game, the teacher discusses with the children which decisions of the kings were the most responsible and why.

Questions and tasks for conversation:

• Parents are responsible for their children. Should children be responsible for their parents, and at what age?
• Do you feel responsible for anyone?
• Who do you think is responsible for everything that happens in the state (the world, the family, the school)?
• What does it mean to be able to be responsible for yourself?
• Should teachers be held accountable for the behavior of their students after they leave school?
• Should doctors be responsible for the health of their patients after they break up?

Read the story:

PEASANT KING

A. Neelova

One king, who had neither children nor relatives, bequeathed that after his death the first person to enter the city gates should be enthroned. Fate would have it that this man turned out to be a simple peasant who accidentally ended up in the city on his own business. A crowd of courtiers surrounded the lucky man and led him to the palace. There they put a crown and purple on him, girded him with a sword and gave him a scepter. The peasant looked at himself in the mirror and thought: “Not bad!”

Then, to the sound of timpani, they led him into a magnificent hall, seated him on a throne and swore allegiance to him: “Very good!” - thought the peasant.

From the throne room everyone went to the dining room, where a sumptuous lunch and the finest wines were served. “This is the best!” - the peasant decided to himself.

The next day it was necessary to take up government affairs. Our king was still sleeping soundly, and the ministers had already gathered in the palace. He barely had time to open his eyes when he was informed that ministers and officials of the State Council were asking for an audience with him.

The king got dressed and began to receive the speakers. One of them proposed projects to improve the political system, the other pointed to a lack of finances and the need to raise government revenues without increasing taxes: the third reported on petitions from citizens with complaints about various violations of their rights. These reports dragged on for a long time, and everything had to be resolved one way or another. The new king, a kind man by nature and not stupid, did everything in his power to resolve matters as correctly as possible. At the end he was so tired that he could barely hold the pen in his hands. “Oh, it would be nice to return to my hut! - thought the king. “No one there forced me to solve complicated matters.”

The dinner did not seem so tasty to the new king, although many delicious dishes were served at the table.

After dinner, a large parade was scheduled for the troops going to war, which, under pressure from the court party, the king had to declare to a strong, powerful neighbor. While touring the shelves and batteries, the peasant king thought sadly about how many people would die on the battlefields, how many widows and orphans would remain, and how great the responsibility he was taking upon himself for all the consequences of the war. With a heavy heart, the king returned to the palace, sadly went to bed and, despite the fact that his bed was soft and comfortable, spent an anxious and sleepless night. Oh, how he would like to return to his poor hut, where, despite the hard bed, he always slept so peacefully!

The king thought and thought about what to do, and finally came up with an idea. The next day, early in the morning, he ordered his peasant clothes to be brought, put them on, and stayed in them. And when the ministers and dignitaries gathered and ordered to report about themselves, he went out to them and said:

I refuse the honor of being your king, choose whoever you want instead of me. While I was a peasant, I knew only my own needs, but when I became a king, I began to bear the burdens of the entire people. I can’t do this, and therefore I give up my throne to anyone who wants it.

With these words the peasant left the palace, left the capital and never looked into it again.

Everything that is told here happened a long time ago and in the thirtieth kingdom from us... In our time and in our countries, everything is the other way around: - everyone wants to command, and no one wants to obey.

Questions and tasks for the fairy tale:

What does it mean to take responsibility for everything that happens around you?

Why was the new king afraid to take responsibility for ruling the country? What qualities did he lack for this?

If you were him, would you stay in the palace? Do you think being a ruler is a burden or a pleasure?

Game "Guess the profession"

Everyone chooses a profession. The one who starts the game says what a representative of his profession is responsible for, for example: “I am responsible for making people smile more.” Everyone else guesses what profession we are talking about and explains their opinion. The first person to guess continues the game.

Sketch “Wise Advice”

Children are divided into pairs. One person from the couple proves that a person, first of all, should feel responsible for others, and the second convinces him that being able to be responsible for himself is much more important.

Written work

Ask the children to remember the responsible act of a literary hero and write an essay about how this act influenced the fate of this hero and those around him.

Homework assignment

Write down a quote from Fyodor Dostoevsky from the epigraph to the lesson. Ask everyone to choose someone close to them who needs help most, and for a week try to be responsible for that person.

Homework

Discuss with your children whether they found it difficult to be responsible for their loved ones; and whether the person for whom they were responsible felt that something had changed in his life.

(1) The blind man lay quietly, folding his arms on his chest and smiling. (2) Protecting Rabid’s nerves, the professor did not tell him that the operation was a success, that he would certainly become sighted again. (3) Some ten-thousandth chance of failure could turn everything into a tragedy.

(4) Amid the painful tension, anticipation and all sorts of assumptions, Rabid heard the voice of Daisy Garan approaching him. (5) It was a girl who served in the clinic; Often in difficult moments, Rabid asked her to put her hand on his forehead. (6) And now he was pleased to expect that this small friendly hand would lightly cling to his head, numb from immobility.

(7) 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. (8) 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. (9) It was a warm, cheerful and close to the soul sound of young life, rich in melodious shades, clear as a warm morning.

(10) Gradually, her image clearly arose in him, arbitrary, like all our ideas about the invisible, but necessarily necessary for him. (11) Talking for three weeks only with her, submitting to her easy and persistent care, Rabid knew that he began to love her from the first days; now he sought to recover primarily for her sake.

(12) And he was completely unaware that this girl, whose voice made him so happy, thought about his recovery with fear and sadness, since she was ugly. (13) He was blind, and she could calmly look at herself with his inner idea of ​​her, which he expressed not in words,
but with his whole attitude, and she knew that he loved her.

(14) The hour of testing has come. (15) In no time the bandage was removed. (16) Rabid realized that he had received his sight. (17) Now he impatiently waited for all the people who had restored his sight to leave, so that he could call Daisy and tell her all the most important things.

(18) Having learned that the operation was a brilliant success, Daisy went out with a smile on her face and execution in her soul to the doors behind which everything had changed so extraordinarily. (19) 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. (20) Touching the door, she hesitated and opened it.

– (21) Who are you? – Rabid asked, smiling inquiringly.

- (22) Isn’t it true that I’m like a new creature for you? – she said, instantly returning to him with the sounds of her voice their entire short past, hidden from each other.

(23) In his black eyes she saw unconcealed, complete joy, and suffering released her. (24) 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 blushing face that all of her, with her slender figure, seemed to Rabid like the sound of a string, entwined with flowers. (25) She was good in the light of love.

“(26) Now, only now,” said Rabid, “I understood why you have such a voice that I loved to hear it even in my dreams.”

(27) At that moment, his exact idea of ​​her, born of darkness, was and remained one that she did not expect.

(According to A. Green*)

* Alexander Green (1880–1932) - Russian prose writer, poet, creator of the fictional country in which many of his works take place, including the most famous romantic books - “Running on the Waves” and “Scarlet Sails”.

Show full text

People have always thought about love. What is love? And is it possible to understand is the feeling real? The author of the text, A. Green, also discusses this - Russian prose writer who wrote such famous works as “Running on the Waves” and “Scarlet Sails”.
The author confronts the reader with the problem of the existence of true love.
An example of true feeling is illustrated very clearly in the text. A blind patient, Rabid, is in love with Desi Gharan, who works at the clinic. Young woman attracted him not externally, but inner beauty. After the operation, Rabid regained his sight. Daisy was not distinguished by external beauty, however, to Rabid it seemed like “the sound of a string entwined with flowers.” After all, for true love, it is not the appearance that is important, but the inner world.
The author's point of view, it seems to me, is expressed quite clearly. According to the author true love exists. There can be no external obstacles to love. For true love, a person’s inner world is important.
It is difficult to disagree with the author of the text that true feeling exists. Precisely for the true love does not matter distance, appearance and other external obstacles

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 necessarily 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 of solemn, excited, learned conversation passed 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 - just so 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 this 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, as 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, beautiful 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 liquid. 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 together 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 truthful 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 gangway, 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 routes; 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,” said Enniok, 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 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, bending, 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 stand 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 in 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 wasn't offended. 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 with a special voice that made many flinch, “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; gathering all his willpower, he controlled, 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 terror. You can look at me as much as you like. 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 little 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 handsome, 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 with 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, and 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, clasping 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 frenzied 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, hugging her close, 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 for the first time, looked 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 people who are not very busy stop when they find fault with the first occasion, listened a little and went 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

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 necessarily 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 of solemn, excited, learned conversation passed 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.