Chapter I.
TEACHER KARL IVANYCH

On August 12, 18..., exactly the third day after my birthday, on which I turned ten years old and on which I received such wonderful gifts, at seven o’clock in the morning - Karl Ivanovich woke me up by hitting me over my head with a cracker - from a sugar cane. papers on a stick - like a fly. He did it so awkwardly that he touched the image of my angel hanging on the oak headboard of the bed, and that the killed fly fell right on my head. I stuck my nose out from under the blanket, stopped the icon with my hand, which continued to swing, threw the dead fly onto the floor and, although sleepy, looked at Karl Ivanovich with angry eyes. He, in a colorful cotton robe, belted with a belt made of the same material, in a red knitted skullcap with a tassel and in soft goat boots, continued to walk near the walls, take aim and clap.
“Suppose,” I thought, “I am small, but why does he bother me? Why doesn’t he kill flies near Volodya’s bed? there are so many of them! No, Volodya is older than me; and I am the least of all: that is why he torments me. “That’s all he thinks about all his life,” I whispered, “how I can make trouble.” He sees very well that he woke me up and scared me, but he acts as if he doesn’t notice... nasty man! And the robe, and the cap, and the tassel - how disgusting!”
While I was thus mentally expressing my annoyance with Karl Ivanovich, he walked up to his bed, looked at the clock that hung above it in an embroidered beaded shoe, hung the firecracker on a nail and, as was noticeable, turned around in the most pleasant mood to us.
“Auf, Kinder, auf!.. s"ist Zeit. Die Mutter ust schon im Saal,” he shouted in a kind German voice, then came up to me, sat down at my feet and took a snuff box out of his pocket. I pretended to be asleep. Karl Ivanovich first he sniffed, wiped his nose, snapped his fingers, and then he began to tickle my heels, chuckling. “Nun, nun, Faulenzer!”
No matter how afraid I was of being tickled, I did not jump out of bed and did not answer him, but only hid my head deeper under the pillows, kicked my legs with all my might and tried every effort to restrain myself from laughing.
“How kind he is and how he loves us, and I could think so badly of him!”
I was annoyed both with myself and with Karl Ivanovich, I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry: my nerves were upset.
- Ach, lassen sie, Karl Ivanovich! - I screamed with tears in my eyes, sticking my head out from under the pillows.
Karl Ivanovich was surprised, left my soles alone and began to ask me with concern: what am I talking about? did I see anything bad in my dream?.. His kind German face, the sympathy with which he tried to guess the reason for my tears, made them flow even more abundantly: I was ashamed, and I did not understand how a minute before I could not love Karl Ivanovich and find his robe, cap and tassel disgusting; now, on the contrary, it all seemed extremely sweet to me, and even the tassel seemed clear proof of his kindness. I told him that I was crying because I had a bad dream - that maman had died and they were carrying her to bury her. I made all this up because I absolutely did not remember what I dreamed that night; but when Karl Ivanovich, touched by my story, began to console and calm me down, it seemed to me that I had definitely seen this terrible dream, and the tears flowed for a different reason.
When Karl Ivanovich left me and I sat up in bed and began to pull stockings over my small legs, the tears subsided a little, but the gloomy thoughts about the imaginary dream did not leave me. Uncle Nikolai came in - a small, clean man, always serious, neat, respectful and a great friend of Karl Ivanovich. He carried our dresses and shoes. Volodya has boots, but I still have unbearable shoes with bows. In front of him I would be ashamed to cry; Moreover, the morning sun was shining cheerfully through the windows, and Volodya, imitating Marya Ivanovna (his sister’s governess), laughed so cheerfully and sonorously, standing over the washbasin, that even the serious Nikolai, with a towel on his shoulder, with soap in one hand and a washstand in the other, smiling and said:
- Vladimir Petrovich, please, you will have to wash yourself.
I was completely amused.
- Sind sie bald fertig? - Karl Ivanovich’s voice was heard from the classroom.
His voice was stern and no longer had that expression of kindness that touched me to tears. In the classroom, Karl Ivanovich was a completely different person: he was a mentor. I quickly dressed, washed and, still smoothing my wet hair with a brush in my hand, came to his call.
Karl Ivanovich, with glasses on his nose and a book in his hand, sat in his usual place, between the door and the window. To the left of the door there were two shelves: one was ours, the children’s, the other was Karl Ivanovich’s, own. On ours there were all kinds of books - educational and non-educational: some stood, others lay. Only two large volumes of “Histoire des voyages”, in red bindings, rested decorously against the wall; and then came long, thick, large and small books - crusts without books and books without crusts; It used to be that you pressed it all in and stuck it in when they ordered you to put the library in order before the recreation, as Karl Ivanovich loudly called this shelf. Collection of books on own if it was not as large as ours, it was even more diverse. I remember three of them: a German brochure on manuring cabbage gardens - without binding, one volume of the history of the Seven Years' War - in parchment, burned at one corner, and a complete course in hydrostatics. Karl Ivanovich spent most of his time reading, even ruining his eyesight with it; but apart from these books and The Northern Bee, he read nothing.
Among the items lying on Karl Ivanovich’s shelf, there was one that reminds me of him most of all. This is a cardon circle inserted into a wooden leg, in which this circle was moved by means of pegs. On the mug was pasted a picture representing caricatures of some lady and a hairdresser. Karl Ivanovich was very good at gluing and he invented this circle himself and made it in order to protect his weak eyes from bright light.
Now I see in front of me a long figure in a cotton robe and a red cap, from under which sparse gray hair can be seen. He sits next to a table on which there is a circle with a hairdresser, casting a shadow on his face; in one hand he holds a book, the other rests on the arm of the chair; next to him lie a watch with a gamekeeper painted on the dial, a checkered handkerchief, a black round snuff box, a green case for glasses, and tongs on a tray. All this lies so decorously and neatly in its place that from this order alone one can conclude that Karl Ivanovich has a clear conscience and a calm soul.
It used to be that you would run around the hall downstairs to your fullest, tiptoe up to the classroom, and you would see Karl Ivanovich sitting alone in his chair and with a calmly majestic expression reading one of his favorite books. Sometimes I caught him at such moments when he was not reading: his glasses hung lower on his large aquiline nose, his blue half-closed eyes looked with some special expression, and his lips smiled sadly. The room is quiet; All you can hear is his steady breathing and the striking of the clock with the huntsman.
Sometimes he wouldn’t notice me, but I would stand at the door and think: “Poor, poor old man! There are many of us, we play, we have fun, but he is alone, and no one will caress him. He says the truth that he is an orphan. And the story of his life is so terrible! I remember how he told it to Nikolai - it’s terrible to be in his position!” And it would become so pathetic that you would go up to him, take him by the hand and say: “Lieber Karl Ivanovich!” He loved it when I told him that; He always caresses you, and you can see that he is touched.
On the other wall hung land maps, all almost torn, but skillfully glued by the hand of Karl Ivanovich. On the third wall, in the middle of which there was a door down, two rulers hung on one side: one was cut up, ours, the other was brand new, own, used by him more for encouragement than for shedding; on the other, a black board on which our major offenses were marked with circles and small ones with crosses. To the left of the board there was a corner where we were forced to kneel.
How I remember this corner! I remember the damper in the stove, the vent in this damper and the noise it made when it was turned. It happened that you were standing in the corner, so that your knees and back hurt, and you thought: “Karl Ivanovich forgot about me: he must be comfortable sitting on an easy chair and reading his hydrostatics - but what does it feel like for me?” - and you begin, to remind yourself, slowly open and close the damper or pick the plaster from the wall; but if suddenly too large a piece falls to the ground with a noise, really, fear alone is worse than any punishment. You look back at Karl Ivanovich, and he’s sitting with a book in his hand and doesn’t seem to notice anything.
In the middle of the room stood a table covered with torn black oilcloth, from under which in many places one could see the edges, cut by pocket knives. Around the table there were several unpainted stools, but varnished from long use. The last wall was occupied by three windows. This was the view from them: right under the windows there was a road on which every pothole, every pebble, every rut had long been familiar and dear to me; behind the road is a trimmed linden alley, behind which in some places a wicker picket fence can be seen; across the alley you can see a meadow, on one side of which there is a threshing floor, and on the contrary a forest; Far away in the forest you can see the watchman's hut. From the window to the right you can see part of the terrace on which the big ones usually sat until lunch. It used to happen, while Karl Ivanovich was correcting a sheet of paper with a dictation, you would look in that direction, see your mother’s black head, someone’s back, and vaguely hear talking and laughter from there; It becomes so annoying that you can’t be there, and you think: “When will I be big, will I stop studying and will always sit not at dialogues, but with those I love?” The annoyance will turn into sadness, and, God knows why and about what, you will become so thoughtful that you won’t hear how angry Karl Ivanovich is for his mistakes.
Karl Ivanovich took off his robe, put on a blue tailcoat with ridges and ruffles on the shoulders, straightened his tie in front of the mirror and led us downstairs to greet his mother.

Chapter II.
MAMAN

Mother was sitting in the living room and pouring tea; With one hand she held the kettle, with the other the tap of the samovar, from which water flowed through the top of the kettle onto the tray. But although she looked intently, she did not notice this, nor did she notice that we had entered.
So many memories of the past arise when you try to resurrect in your imagination the features of your beloved being, that through these memories, as through tears, you dimly see them. These are tears of imagination. When I try to remember my mother as she was at that time, I imagine only her brown eyes, always expressing the same kindness and love, a mole on her neck, a little lower than where the small hairs curl, an embroidered and white collar, a gentle dry hand who caressed me so often and whom I kissed so often; but the general expression eludes me.
To the left of the sofa stood an old English piano; My little black sister Lyubochka was sitting in front of the piano and with her pink fingers, freshly washed with cold water, she was playing out Clementi etudes with noticeable tension. She was eleven years old; she walked around in a short canvas dress, in little white pantaloons trimmed with lace, and could only wear an octave arpeggio. Next to her, half-turning, sat Marya Ivanovna in a cap with pink ribbons, a blue jacket and a red angry face, which took on an even more stern expression as soon as Karl Ivanovich entered. She looked at him menacingly and, without responding to his bow, continued, stamping her foot, counting: “Un, deux, trois, un, deux, trois,” even louder and more commandingly than before.
Karl Ivanovich, not paying any attention to this, as usual, walked straight up to his mother’s hand with a German greeting. She came to her senses, shook her head, as if wanting to drive away sad thoughts with this movement, gave her hand to Karl Ivanovich and kissed his wrinkled temple, while he kissed her hand.
“Ich danke, lieber Karl Ivanovich,” and, continuing to speak German, she asked: “Did the children sleep well?”
Karl Ivanovich was deaf in one ear, but now he couldn’t hear anything at all because of the noise at the piano. He leaned closer to the sofa, leaned one hand on the table, standing on one leg, and with a smile, which then seemed to me the height of sophistication, raised his cap above his head and said:
- Excuse me, Natalya Nikolaevna? Karl Ivanovich, in order not to catch a cold on his bare head, never took off his red cap, but every time he entered the living room, he asked permission to do so.
- Put it on, Karl Ivanovich... I’m asking you, did the children sleep well? - said maman, moving towards him and quite loudly.
But again he heard nothing, covered his bald head with a red cap and smiled even sweeter.
“Wait a minute, Mimi,” maman said to Marya Ivanovna with a smile, “I can’t hear anything.”
When mother smiled, no matter how good her face was, it became incomparably better, and everything around seemed to be cheerful. If in difficult moments of my life I could even catch a glimpse of this smile, I would not know what grief is. It seems to me that in one smile lies what is called the beauty of the face: if a smile adds charm to the face, then the face is beautiful; if she does not change it, then it is ordinary; if she spoils it, then it is bad.
Having greeted me, maman took my head with both hands and threw it back, then looked closely at me and said:
- Did you cry today?
I didn't answer. She kissed me on the eyes and asked in German:
-What were you crying about?
When she spoke to us in a friendly manner, she always spoke in a language that she knew perfectly.
“It was I who cried in my sleep, maman,” I said, recalling with all the details the fictitious dream and involuntarily shuddering at this thought.
Karl Ivanovich confirmed my words, but kept silent about the dream. After talking more about the weather - a conversation in which Mimi also took part - maman put six lumps of sugar on a tray for some of the honorary servants, stood and went to the hoop that stood by the window.
- Well, now go to dad, children, and tell him to definitely come to me before he goes to the threshing floor.
The music, counting and menacing looks began again, and we went to dad. Having passed the room, which has retained its name since grandfather’s time waitress, we entered the office.

Chapter III.
DAD

He stood near the desk and, pointing at some envelopes, papers and piles of money, got excited and passionately explained something to the clerk Yakov Mikhailov, who, standing in his usual place, between the door and the barometer, with his hands behind his back, very He moved his fingers quickly and in different directions.
The more excited dad got, the faster his fingers moved, and vice versa, when dad fell silent, the fingers stopped; but when Yakov himself began to speak, his fingers became extremely restless and desperately jumped in different directions. From their movements, it seems to me, one could guess Yakov’s secret thoughts; his face was always calm - expressing the consciousness of his dignity and at the same time subordination, that is: I am right, but by the way, your will!
When dad saw us, he just said:
- Wait, now.
And with a movement of his head he indicated the door so that one of us would close it.
- Oh, my merciful God! What's wrong with you today, Yakov? - he continued to the clerk, twitching his shoulder (he had this habit). - This envelope containing eight hundred rubles...
Yakov moved the abacus, threw in eight hundred and fixed his gaze on an uncertain point, waiting to see what would happen next.
- ...for savings expenses in my absence. Understand? You should get a thousand rubles for the mill... right or not? You must receive back eight thousand deposits from the treasury; for the hay, which, according to your calculation, can be sold at seven thousand poods, I put in forty-five kopecks, you will receive three thousand; Therefore, how much money will you have? Twelve thousand... right or wrong?
“That’s right, sir,” said Yakov.
But from the rapidity of his movements with his fingers, I noticed that he wanted to object; dad interrupted him:
- Well, from this money you will send ten thousand to the Council for Petrovskoye. Now the money that is in the office,” continued dad (Yakov mixed the previous twelve thousand and threw in twenty-one thousand), “you will bring me and show me the current number of expenses. (Yakov mixed up the accounts and turned them over, probably showing that the money twenty-one thousand would be lost in the same way.) You are delivering the same envelope with money from me to the address.
I stood close to the table and looked at the inscription. It was written: “To Karl Ivanovich Mauer.”
Probably noticing that I had read something I didn’t need to know, dad put his hand on my shoulder and with a slight movement showed me the direction away from the table. I didn’t understand whether this was an affection or a remark, but just in case, I kissed the large, sinewy hand that lay on my shoulder.
“I’m listening, sir,” said Yakov. - What will be the order regarding the Khabarovsk money? Khabarovka was the village of maman.
- Leave it in the office and not use it anywhere without my order.
Yakov was silent for a few seconds; then suddenly his fingers spun with increased speed, and he, changing the expression of obedient stupidity with which he listened to his master’s orders, to his characteristic expression of roguish sharpness, pulled the abacus towards him and began to say:
- Allow me to report to you, Pyotr Alexandrovich, that, as you please, it is impossible to pay the Council on time. You deign to say,” he continued with emphasis, “that money should come from the deposits, from the mill and hay. (Calculating these articles, he threw them on the dice.) “So I’m afraid that we might make a mistake in our calculations,” he added, after being silent for a while and looking thoughtfully at Dad.
- Why?
- But if you please see: about the mill, the miller has already come to me twice to ask for a deferment and swore by Christ God that he has no money... and he is here now: would you like to talk to him yourself? ?
- What is he saying? - Dad asked, making a sign with his head that he didn’t want to talk to the miller.
- Yes, it is known that, he says that there was no grinding at all, that there was some money, so he put it all in the dam. Well, if we take it off, sir, so again, will we find a calculation here? You were kind enough to talk about collateral, but I think I already reported to you that our money is sitting there and we won’t have to get it soon. The other day I sent a cart of flour and a note about this matter to Ivan Afanasyich in the city: so they again answer that they would be glad to try for Pyotr Alexandrovich, but the matter is not in my hands, and that, as can be seen from everything, it is unlikely to be so and in two months you will receive your receipt. As for the hay, they deigned to say, let’s assume that it will sell for three thousand...
He threw three thousand into the abacus and was silent for a minute, looking first at the abacus and then into dad’s eyes with the following expression: “You see for yourself how little this is! Yes, and we’ll sell the hay again, if we sell it now, you yourself would like to know...”
It was clear that he still had a large stock of arguments; That must be why dad interrupted him.
“I won’t change my orders,” he said, “but if there really is a delay in receiving this money, then, there’s nothing to do, you’ll take from Khabarovsk as much as you need.”
- I’m listening, sir.
It was clear from the expression on Yakov’s face and fingers that the last order gave him great pleasure.
Yakov was a serf, a very zealous and devoted person; he, like all good clerks, was extremely stingy for his master and had the strangest concepts about the master's benefits. He was always concerned about increasing the property of his master at the expense of the property of his mistress, trying to prove that it was necessary to use all the income from her estates on Petrovskoye (the village in which we lived). At the moment he was triumphant, because he had completely succeeded in this.
After greeting us, dad said that he would give us a hard time in the village, that we were no longer little and that it was time for us to study seriously.
“You already know, I think that I’m going to Moscow tonight and taking you with me,” he said. - You will live with your grandmother, and maman and the girls will stay here. And you know this, that there will be one consolation for her - to hear that you are studying well and that they are happy with you.
Although, judging by the preparations that had been noticeable for several days, we were already expecting something extraordinary, this news shocked us terribly. Volodya blushed and in a trembling voice conveyed his mother’s instructions.
“So this is what my dream foreshadowed for me! - I thought. “God only grant that something even worse doesn’t happen.”
I felt very, very sorry for my mother, and at the same time the thought that we had definitely become big made me happy.
“If we are going today, then there will probably be no classes; this is nice! - I thought. - However, I feel sorry for Karl Ivanovich. They will probably let him go, because otherwise they would not have prepared an envelope for him... It would be better to study forever and not leave, not part with his mother and not offend poor Karl Ivanovich. He’s already very unhappy!”
These thoughts flashed through my head; I did not move from my place and looked intently at the black bows of my shoes.
Having said a few more words with Karl Ivanovich about lowering the barometer and ordering Yakov not to feed the dogs in order to leave in the afternoon to listen to the young hounds, dad, against my expectations, sent us off to study, comforting us, however, with the promise of taking us hunting.
On the way up I ran onto the terrace. At the door, in the sun, with his eyes closed, lay his father’s favorite greyhound dog, Milka.
“Darling,” I said, caressing her and kissing her face, “we are leaving today: goodbye!” We'll never see you again.
I became emotional and cried.

Chapter IV.
CLASSES

Karl Ivanovich was very out of sorts. This was noticeable in his knitted eyebrows and in the way he threw his coat into the chest of drawers, and in how angrily he belted himself, and in how strongly he scratched with his fingernail on the book of dialogues to mark the place to which we had to go. Volodya studied well; I was so upset that I absolutely could not do anything. For a long time I looked senselessly at the book of dialogues, but because of the tears that were gathering in my eyes at the thought of the impending separation, I could not read; when the time came to say them to Karl Ivanovich, who, with his eyes closed, listened to me (this was a bad sign), precisely at the place where one says: “Wo kommen sie her?” , and the other replies: “Ich komme vom Kaffe-Hause” - I could no longer hold back my tears and from sobbing I could not say: “Haben sie die Zeitung nicht gelesen?” . When it came to penmanship, I made such blots from the tears falling on the paper, as if I was writing with water on wrapping paper.
Karl Ivanovich got angry, forced me to my knees, insisted that this was stubbornness, a puppet comedy (this was his favorite word), threatened me with a ruler and demanded that I ask for forgiveness, while I could not utter a word from tears; Finally, probably feeling his injustice, he went into Nikolai’s room and slammed the door.
From the classroom I could hear a conversation in the guy's room.
- Have you heard, Nikolai, that the children are going to Moscow? - said Karl Ivanovich, entering the room.
- Of course, sir, I heard.
Nikolai must have wanted to get up, because Karl Ivanovich said: “Sit, Nikolai!” - and then closed the door. I left the corner and went to the door to eavesdrop.
- No matter how much you do good to people, no matter how attached you are, apparently you can’t expect gratitude, Nikolai? - Karl Ivanovich said with feeling.
Nikolai, sitting by the window at his shoemaker's work, nodded his head affirmatively.
“I’ve been living in this house for twelve years and I can say before God, Nikolai,” continued Karl Ivanovich, raising his eyes and snuffbox to the ceiling, “that I loved them and cared for them more than if they were my own children.” Do you remember, Nikolai, when Volodenka had a fever, do you remember how I sat at his bedside for nine days without closing my eyes. Yes! then I was kind, dear Karl Ivanovich, then I was needed; and now,” he added, smiling ironically, “now Children have become big: they need to study seriously. Are you sure they don’t study here, Nikolai?
“How else to learn, it seems,” said Nikolai, putting down the awl and holding out the dredges with both hands.
- Yes, now I’m no longer needed, and I need to be driven away; where are the promises? where is the gratitude? I respect and love Natalya Nikolaevna, Nikolai,” he said, putting his hand to his chest, “what is she?.. her will in this house is the same as this,” and with an expressive gesture he threw a piece of leather on the floor. “I know whose stuff these are and why I’m no longer needed: because I don’t flatter and indulge in everything, like other people.” “I’m used to always telling the truth in front of everyone,” he said proudly. - God be with them! Because I won’t be there, they won’t get rich, and I, God is merciful, will find myself a piece of bread... isn’t that right, Nikolai?
Nikolai raised his head and looked at Karl Ivanovich as if wanting to make sure whether he really could find a piece of bread, but said nothing.
Karl Ivanovich spoke a lot and for a long time in this spirit: he talked about how they were better able to appreciate his merits at some general, where he had previously lived (it was very painful for me to hear this), he talked about Saxony, about his parents, about his friend tailor Schönheit, etc., etc.

On August 12, 18..., exactly the third day after my birthday, on which I turned ten years old and on which I received such wonderful gifts, at seven o’clock in the morning Karl Ivanovich woke me up by hitting me over my head with a cracker made of sugar paper. on a stick - on a fly. He did it so awkwardly that he touched the image of my angel hanging on the oak headboard of the bed, and that the killed fly fell right on my head. I stuck my nose out from under the blanket, stopped the icon with my hand, which continued to swing, threw the dead fly onto the floor and, although sleepy, looked at Karl Ivanovich with angry eyes. He, in a colorful cotton robe, belted with a belt made of the same material, in a red knitted skullcap with a tassel and in soft goat boots, continued to walk near the walls, take aim and clap.

“Suppose,” I thought, “I am small, but why does he bother me? Why doesn’t he kill flies near Volodya’s bed? there are so many of them! No, Volodya is older than me; and I am the least of all: that is why he torments me. “That’s all he thinks about all his life,” I whispered, “how I can make trouble.” He sees very well that he woke me up and scared me, but he acts as if he doesn’t notice... he’s a disgusting man! And the robe, and the cap, and the tassel - how disgusting!”

While I was thus mentally expressing my annoyance with Karl Ivanovich, he walked up to his bed, looked at the clock that hung above it in an embroidered beaded shoe, hung the firecracker on a nail and, as was noticeable, turned around in the most pleasant mood to us.

– Auf, Kinder, auf!.. s’ist Zeit. “Die Mutter ist schon im Saal,” he shouted in a kind German voice, then he came up to me, sat down at my feet and took a snuff box out of his pocket. I pretended to be asleep. Karl Ivanovich first sniffed, wiped his nose, snapped his fingers, and then only began to take care of me. He chuckled and began tickling my heels. - Nu, nun, Faulenzer! - he said.

No matter how afraid I was of being tickled, I did not jump out of bed and did not answer him, but only hid my head deeper under the pillows, kicked my legs with all my might and tried every effort to restrain myself from laughing.

“How kind he is and how he loves us, and I could think so badly of him!”

I was annoyed both with myself and with Karl Ivanovich, I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry: my nerves were upset.

- Ach, lassen Sie, Karl Ivanovich! – I shouted with tears in my eyes, sticking my head out from under the pillows.

Karl Ivanovich was surprised, left my soles alone and began to ask me with concern: what am I talking about? did I see anything bad in my dream?.. His kind German face, the sympathy with which he tried to guess the reason for my tears, made them flow even more abundantly: I was ashamed, and I did not understand how a minute before I could not love Karl Ivanovich and find his robe, cap and tassel disgusting; now, on the contrary, it all seemed extremely sweet to me, and even the tassel seemed clear proof of his kindness. I told him that I was crying because I had a bad dream - that maman had died and they were carrying her to bury her. I made all this up because I absolutely did not remember what I dreamed that night; but when Karl Ivanovich, touched by my story, began to console and calm me down, it seemed to me that I had definitely seen this terrible dream, and the tears flowed for a different reason.

When Karl Ivanovich left me and I sat up in bed and began to pull stockings over my small legs, the tears subsided a little, but the gloomy thoughts about the imaginary dream did not leave me. Uncle Nikolai came in - a small, clean man, always serious, neat, respectful and a great friend of Karl Ivanovich. He carried our dresses and shoes: Volodya’s boots, but I still had unbearable shoes with bows. In front of him I would be ashamed to cry; Moreover, the morning sun was shining cheerfully through the windows, and Volodya, imitating Marya Ivanovna (his sister’s governess), laughed so cheerfully and sonorously, standing over the washbasin, that even the serious Nikolai, with a towel on his shoulder, with soap in one hand and a washstand in the other, smiling and said:

“If you please, Vladimir Petrovich, please wash yourself.”

I was completely amused.

– Sind Sie bald fertig? – Karl Ivanovich’s voice was heard from the classroom.

His voice was stern and no longer had that expression of kindness that touched me to tears. In the classroom, Karl Ivanovich was a completely different person: he was a mentor. I quickly dressed, washed and, still with a brush in my hand, smoothing my wet hair, came to his call.

Karl Ivanovich, with glasses on his nose and a book in his hand, sat in his usual place, between the door and the window. To the left of the door there were two shelves: one was ours, the children’s, the other was Karl Ivanovich’s, own. On ours there were all kinds of books - educational and non-educational: some stood, others lay. Only two large volumes of “Histoire des voyages”, in red bindings, rested decorously against the wall; and then they went, long, thick, large and small books - crusts without books and books without crusts; It used to be that you pressed it all in and stuck it in when they ordered you to put the library in order before the recreation, as Karl Ivanovich loudly called this shelf. Collection of books on own if it was not as large as ours, it was even more diverse. I remember three of them: a German brochure on manuring cabbage gardens - without binding, one volume of the history of the Seven Years' War - in parchment burned at one corner, and a complete course on hydrostatics. Karl Ivanovich spent most of his time reading, even ruining his eyesight with it; but apart from these books and The Northern Bee, he read nothing.

Among the items lying on Karl Ivanovich’s shelf, there was one that reminds me of him most of all. This is a cardon circle inserted into a wooden leg, in which this circle was moved by means of pegs. On the mug was pasted a picture representing caricatures of some lady and a hairdresser. Karl Ivanovich was very good at gluing and he invented this circle himself and made it in order to protect his weak eyes from bright light.

Now I see in front of me a long figure in a cotton robe and a red cap, from under which sparse gray hair can be seen. He sits next to a table on which there is a circle with a hairdresser, casting a shadow on his face; in one hand he holds a book, the other rests on the arm of the chair; next to him lie a watch with a gamekeeper painted on the dial, a checkered handkerchief, a black round snuff box, a green case for glasses, and tongs on a tray. All this lies so decorously and neatly in its place that from this order alone one can conclude that Karl Ivanovich has a clear conscience and a calm soul.

It used to be that you would run around the hall downstairs to your fullest, tiptoe up to the classroom, and you would see Karl Ivanovich sitting alone in his chair and with a calmly majestic expression reading one of his favorite books. Sometimes I caught him at such moments when he was not reading: his glasses hung lower on his large aquiline nose, his blue half-closed eyes looked with some special expression, and his lips smiled sadly. The room is quiet; All you can hear is his steady breathing and the striking of the clock with the huntsman.

Sometimes he wouldn’t notice me, but I would stand at the door and think: “Poor, poor old man! There are many of us, we play, we have fun, but he is alone, and no one will caress him. He says the truth that he is an orphan. And the story of his life is so terrible! I remember how he told it to Nikolai - it’s terrible to be in his position!” And it would become so pathetic that you would go up to him, take him by the hand and say: “Lieber Karl Ivanovich!” He loved it when I told him that; He always caresses you, and you can see that he is touched.

On the other wall hung land maps, all almost torn, but skillfully glued by the hand of Karl Ivanovich. On the third wall, in the middle of which there was a door down, on one side hung two rulers: one was cut up, ours, the other was brand new, own, used by him more for encouragement than for shedding; on the other, a black board on which our major offenses were marked with circles and small ones with crosses. To the left of the board there was a corner where we were forced to kneel.

Childhood is sometimes considered the most carefree and full of happiness in a person’s life. It is to her that Leo Tolstoy’s story “Childhood” is dedicated, which is part of the writer’s famous trilogy “Childhood. Adolescence. Youth". The main character is a boy from a noble family - Nikolenka Irtenev, who is 10 years old. At this age at that time, children were sent to study in different educational institutions. And two weeks later Nikolenka faced the same fate; he had to leave for Moscow with his father and older brother. In the meantime, the boy spends his time surrounded by close relatives. Next to him is his beloved maman, that’s what he calls his mother, who is of great importance at this stage of the child’s development.

The story “Childhood” is partly autobiographical. Describing the atmosphere in Nikolenka’s house, Lev Nikolaevich recreated a picture of his own childhood. Although he himself grew up without a mother, since she died when the writer was only one and a half years old. The main character will also have to survive the death of his mother, but in his life this will happen at the age of ten. Nikolenka will have time to remember her, will love and idolize her. Creating the image of a mother, the writer endowed her with the best qualities that can be inherent in a woman. A distinctive feature is the eyes, which constantly radiated kindness and love. Not remembering his mother, Tolstoy believed that this is how a mother looks at her child. By reading the work, you can learn about the life of a noble family. In addition to his mother, Nikolenka has a teacher of German origin, Karl Ivanovich, who was also dear to the boy.

The author reveals the hero’s experiences through a monologue with himself, which reveals a change in mood from sadness to joy. This technique will be called “dialectics of the soul”; the writer uses it in many of his works to show the reader a portrait of the hero through a description of the inner world. The story describes the hero's feelings for his friends, his first sympathy for the girl Sonya Valakhina. Seryozha Ivin, who was an example for Nikolenka, lost his authority after he humiliated Ilenka Grapa in front of everyone. Sympathy and his own helplessness upset the boy. Carefree time ends for Nikolenka after the death of her mother. He goes to study and a new time begins for him - adolescence, to which the second story of the trilogy is dedicated. You can read the full text of the story “Childhood” on our website, and here you can download the book for free.

The story “Childhood” opens the autobiographical literary trilogy of Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy. The main issue of the work is the influence of the family atmosphere on the formation of a person’s habits and character in childhood.

Brief retelling of the story “Childhood”

The main character of the story is Nikolenka. The boy is 10 years old, he has a sister Lyuba and a brother Vladimir. The parents provided their children with home schooling and in their free time they have the opportunity to play and go for walks a lot.

The day comes when the children are informed that for further education they will have to go to Moscow. Nikolenka is saddened by the prospect of a quick separation from his stepfather’s house, his mother and other close people. Even the real hunt that his father took him on to cheer him up a little didn’t help. The little hero missed the hare and was very worried about it.

The next morning, all the household members gathered in one room to say goodbye to the children. Nikolenka had a hard time parting with his mother; he was afraid of change and life in a big city.

A month has passed. The little hero tried his hand at versification. His first poems are in honor of his grandmother, whose name day. In the evening, many guests arrived, among them Nikolenka met a girl, Sonya. They danced and agreed to switch to “you.” Before going to bed, the hero admitted to his brother that he was in love for the first time.

Six months later, despite the fact that classes were in full swing, the father urgently took the boys home. It turned out Nikolenka’s mother was very seriously ill. Unfortunately, the children did not have time to catch their mother conscious; she passed away on the day of their arrival, without regaining consciousness and without having time to say goodbye. Nikolenka's heart was filled with pain. The house was orphaned. The father took the children to Moscow. This is how Nikolenka’s childhood ended.

List of characters from Tolstoy's story "Childhood"

The most significant characters:

• Nikolenka Irtenev , 10 years old is the main character of the story and he, years later, is the narrator.
• Natalya Nikolaevna Irteneva - Nikolenka’s mother.
• Pyotr Alexandrovich Irtenev - Nikolenka's father.
• Karl Ivanovich - Nikolenka’s favorite home teacher.
• Natalya Savishna - servant in the Irtenievs’ house, first a serf, then a hired housekeeper.

Other characters:

• Volodya and Lyuba Irtemievs - brother and sister of the main character.
• Grandmother - children lived in her house during their Moscow studies.
• Mimi - servant in the Irtemyev family.
• Katenka - daughter Mimi.
• Gregory - a holy fool.

Brief summary of Tolstoy's story “Childhood” by chapters

To quickly familiarize yourself with what is said in the story, to understand its storyline and general idea, it is enough to read its summary chapter by chapter.

Chapter 1. Teacher Karl Ivanovich

The main character Nikolenka is only 10 years old. He grows up in a family of nobles, with two more children - brother Volodya and sister Lyuba. Every morning the boys will have a German teacher. He teaches them at home, is very attached to them, but asks for the given knowledge to the fullest extent.

Chapter 2. Maman

Nikolenka went down to breakfast, where his mother was waiting for him. She is kind and affectionate. Mother inquires about his affairs, then kisses him. The children go to their father's office to greet him too.

Chapter 3. Dad

The father informs his sons that they urgently need to move to Moscow to continue their studies. Nikolenka feels sorry for the old teacher, realizing that he will be fired.

Chapter 4. Classes

In the meantime, classes with Karl Ivanovich continue. The old man is upset that after 12 years of faithful work he is being fired. Nikolenka is sad about the same thing; the teacher is like a second father to him.

Chapter 5. Holy Fool

Mother strives to help vagabonds and wanderers. On this day, the holy fool Grishka dines with his family, but at a separate table. In winter and summer he wears rags and walks barefoot.

Chapter 6. Preparations for the hunt

Lunch is over. The servants prepare everything for going hunting.

Chapter 7. Hunting

Everyone went out to hunt. Nikolenka saw the hare, but missed the prey. I was very upset.

Chapter 8. Games

The hunt is over. Children play and eat goodies in nature.

Chapter 9. Something like first love

During the children's games, Nikolenka is overwhelmed by a fit of tenderness for Katya, Mimi's daughter.

Chapter 10. What kind of person was my father?

The chapter is a description of the character of Nikolenka’s father. He was a sociable person with connections. He loved women and card games.

Chapter 11. Classes in the office and living room

The children are drawing, the mother is playing the piano. The old teacher asks to keep him at work, he is ready to give up his salary just so as not to be separated from his children. Nikolenka's dad decides to take Karl Ivanovich with him to Moscow.

Chapter 12. Grisha

Children spy on the holy fool when he prays.

Chapter 13. Natalya Savishna

The chapter is dedicated to the elderly servant in the house - housekeeper Natalya Savishna, whom Nikolenka loves with all her heart for her kindness and care for his family.

Chapter 14. Separation

The brothers are getting ready to leave. Everyone says goodbye. Mom is crying.

Chapter 15. Childhood

Memories of the hero's childhood, of his mother.

Chapter 16. Poems

A month later. Moscow. Grandma's house. It's grandma's birthday. Nikolenka composes poetry as a gift for her. He doesn't like them, but grandma is pleased with the present.

Chapter 17. Princess Kornakova

A reception was held in honor of my grandmother's name day. The princess arrives, Nikolenka kisses her hand.

Chapter 18. Prince Ivan Ivanovich

Another guest at the banquet. Nikolenka overheard the conversation between the grandmother and the prince. The birthday girl complained about the behavior of the main character's father. She believed that he was not faithful to his wife and was having fun to the fullest in Moscow.

Chapter 19. Ivins

Among the guests are the Ivin family with three sons. Children play and offend the quiet boy Ilenka. The boy cries, Nikolenka becomes ashamed that he took part in Ilenka’s humiliation.

Chapter 20. Guests are gathering

In the evening there are more guests and dancing begins. Nikolenka notices a 12-year-old girl. Her name is Sonya and the hero really likes her.

Chapter 21. Before the mazurka

The evening is in full swing. Nikolenka dances a quadrille with Sonya.

Chapter 22. Mazurka

The hero dances the Mazurka with the young princess. It gets confused and stops in the process. The father is angry, and Nikolenka is ashamed and sad that her mother is not around to console him.

Chapter 23. After the mazurka

Everyone is having dinner. The Grosvater dance begins. Nikolenka's couple again Sonya. Children agree to say “you” to each other. Nikolenka is happy.

Chapter 24. In bed

Nikolenka admits to her brother that she is in love, and he makes fun of him.

Chapter 25. Letter

Six months have passed. An urgent letter from home shocks the boys' father. He doesn’t tell them why, but he urgently prepares to leave home. And at home my mother is mortally ill.

Chapter 26. What awaited us in the village

The children return home and find their mother very bad. She dies in agony.

Chapter 27. Grief

Funeral day. Nikolenka is frightened by the sight of her dead mother’s face.

Chapter 28. Last sad memories

Three days later, the Irtenyev family moves to Moscow. The grandmother falls unconscious from grief for a week. Old Natalya Savishna remains in the village house all alone, and soon she is gone too. She was buried next to Mother Nikolenka.

Brief description of the heroes of Tolstoy’s story “Childhood”

In the story “Childhood” by Tolstoy there are main characters and episodic ones. One way or another, each of them has some weight in the narrative and helps to understand the feelings of the main character. It is useful to get to know some of the characters better in order to better understand the plot of the story and the idea that the author sought to convey to his reader.

Brief description Nikolenki Irteneva from the story “Childhood”

The main character is a 10-year-old nobleman Nikolenka. The boy grew up in the village, next to loving people. Very savvy, but lazy. Kind and conscientious towards others. The character is still flexible and pliable, but early prudence helps the hero understand where he did well and where he did not.

Brief description Karl Ivanovich from the story “Childhood”

Karl Ivanovich is the home teacher of Nikolenka and his brother. He teaches children German, history, and grammar. He is a kind and loving mentor with a sincere affection for his students. With all the love, the teacher is strict with the children during classes.

Brief description Nikolenka's mom from the story “Childhood”

Natalya Nikolaevna Irteneva is Nikolenka’s mother. Affectionate, caring and kind woman. The writer devoted little space to this heroine in the text, but judging by how responsive and conscientious her son Nikolai turned out to be, it becomes clear that the mother’s affection did not remain without result. The heroine died early from a serious illness.

Brief description Nikolenka's father from the story “Childhood”

Pyotr Aleksandrovich Irtenyev is Nikolai's dad. The boy loves his father, but somewhat differently than his mother. His father is an authority figure for him, although it is difficult to call him ideal. He has many shortcomings: he loves partying, is not faithful to his wife, and plays card games. But although Pyotr Alexandrovich is a strict person, he loves his children very much and wishes only the best for them.

Brief description Natalia Savishny from the story “Childhood”

An elderly woman, a serf peasant, a former nanny to Nikolenka’s mother. At the time of the story, the housekeeper is in the house. In her youth she was a plump and energetic woman, but in old age she became haggard and sickly. The most important character trait is selflessness. Even when Nikolai’s grandfather forbade Natalya Savishna to become the wife of her loved one, she did not become embittered. This kind woman gave all of herself in the name of caring for her master’s family. The old woman died soon after Nikolenka’s mother and was buried next to her.

Briefly about the history of the creation of the story “Childhood” by Leo Nikolaevich Tolstoy

The story “Childhood” is the first literary gem of the great Russian writer of the 19th century. Tolstoy wrote this work at the age of 24 in the Caucasus, where he and his brother went to military service. The story “Childhood” became the first in the autobiographical trilogy: “Childhood. Adolescence. Youth". The first publication took place in 1852 on the pages of the magazine Sovremennik, popular at that time.