Continuation. Part 3. ()
Finally, let us return to "Shurala"... this creature is not burdened with intelligence capable of tempting, there is nothing from Mephistopheles, Demon or Faun in it... According to the responses, the production of the Mariinsky Theater is incredibly colorful and... children like it... a fairy-tale world beautiful, like the world that awaits them in our country, I suppose...

Please note that Yarullin was mentioned only once in the announcement, and thank God. The decision to return to the repertoire of the theater of Soviet masterpieces is made by Valery Gergiev , I suppose this decision is made not only because these are masterpieces ... Obraztsova creates a simply exemplary image of Syuyumbike. Light, gentle, touching, and in her interview, Evgenia does not hesitate to draw a parallel with "Swan Lake" ...

"Barbarian and childish ..." - a certain key to understanding. Barbaric today means - exotic, bright, unusual, original ... matryoshka, "clownery" at the highest technical level, with a budget that could be enough, perhaps, for a year of the Yekaterinburg opera ...
Shurale - Premiere (Mariinsky Ballet).
Uploaded by jp2uao , date: 06/30/2009 RTR-Vesti 06/29/2009.

An ironic, but not without interest note by Olga Fedorchenko "This is such a Shurale..." A Tatar goblin was shown at the Mariinsky Theatre.
"Forest evil speaks in vulgar grotesque, liberated bodies snake, writhe, sway and writhe, visibly embodying all the low sides of human nature. Fantastic birds "chirp" with a classical dance, light, flying, Jacobson-style boldly and unusually transformed. The people, as it should be, speak sedately in the language of a characteristic dance...
The games of the three main characters in terms of complexity are probably on a par with "Sleeping Beauty" and "Swan Lake". All the richness of classical dance, solo and duet, which the dancing mankind had developed by 1950, interesting acting tasks - what else does a demanding soloist need to dream of dancing Shurale?!
(...) At the end of the performance, in the best imperial traditions, solemn speeches and distribution of government awards began. The politically correct result of the premiere was summed up by the chairman of the parliament of Tatarstan: "Thank God!", and immediately corrected himself: "And to Allah!" The artistic result was summed up by the Minister of Culture of Tatarstan. For some reason, she brought Van Cliburn to the Mariinsky stage, and while he was bowing in embarrassment, the sovereign lady thoughtfully said into the microphone: “This is Shurale ...”

In 1980, a film adaptation of the ballet was made. Few remember her. Poems of Tatar poets in Russian are heard. I find the name of the director with difficulty - Oleg Ryabokon. Interestingly, this film is not even mentioned in his filmography, maybe he himself was ashamed of his offspring? I “flicked through” the film, it was filmed poorly, it’s not clear how and why exactly such an average plan and angle was chosen, the artists constantly jump out of the screen, the poor cameraman, not keeping up with the artists and poorly understanding what is happening on the stage, is forced to turn the camera behind them , mounted too clumsily, everything was done extremely carelessly, the music was recorded somehow evenly, coldly, indifferently ... In a word, the 80th - other times, not for such a production, the impression that everyone tried to do everything right, except for the authors of the film , but they treated the work with absolutely indifference, it is difficult to find sparks of inspiration. Boring to watch and listen to...
Forest Tale (Shurale) -1980. Posted on Yandex.

We try another approach, removing visibility. Music had a specific purpose, it assumed a choreographic embodiment, music was written under the direction of a choreographer, but no matter who puts ballets to Tchaikovsky's music, no matter how art critics sigh about the genius of the directors, this music can do without choreography, but ballet without music? "Battle of Byltyr and Shurale" (below) without choreography, does it draw our attention to the contradiction inherent in our own soul, is it possible to catch how the struggle between light and darkness, good and evil takes place in it? .. Difficult? A lot of pathos, isn't it? From the first notes, everything is clear, the sun shines brightly, you will not find even a sign of a shadow in which you could hide from its scorching rays, everything triumphs. Of course, one can hear how it is not clear which cavalry is galloping, either Budyonov's, or the Tatar-Mongolian, but the triumph is a foregone conclusion, the music is so Soviet that it becomes boring ... The perception is subjective, I'm not going to criticize anyone. But the pathos seems provincial to me, which I also utter with a reservation, not being a specialist, only a provincial listener. I decided to take this performance of music. This is a completely different element. In ballet, the orchestra and the troupe must be a single whole, here the music is left to itself, the orchestra and our ears...
F. Yarullin. "Battle of Byltyr and Shurale". Uploaded by user AlsuHasanova , date: 01/11/2011
Symphony Orchestra of the Kazan College of Music.

Let's get back to ballet.
OBRAZTSOVA - D. MATVIENKO - SHURALE ADAGIO

...
#2 Scene from Shurale Act 1 Evgenia Obraztsova Mariinsky Ballet Now Bolshoi Ballerina. Uploaded by user russianballetvideo , date: 02/25/2012.

...
This dance seems eclectic to me (there are not enough castanets in the hands), somewhat looped and monotonous, does the background extras irritate that they somehow stupidly turn their heads, tinkle, twitch their hands? I simply remove the question of national color. Obraztsova is very charming, cheerful, clean, light bird...
Scene from Shurale Act 2 Evgenia Obraztsova Mariinsky Ballet Now Bolshoi Ballerina.

Let's get back to the storyline. Some young man is going at night looking into the forest for firewood. The thought involuntarily arises: maybe steal? He deceives the fool Shurale, introducing himself as "Vgoduminuvshey"... I.e. someone, not even yesterday... Such a sensible guy, he took what he needed, and also pinched the fingers of the goblin... fingers are not legs, but there are fingers on the legs too... Tukay mentions girls in passing, no more...
In a word, Tatar ingenuity and common sense triumphed...

But there are some things we cannot understand without looking from a different point of view. Another "national" triumph in the ballet is Khachaturian's ballet "Spartacus", although the theme is not Armenian (this is a separate conversation, to what extent the tragic history of the Armenian people is reflected in this). Khachaturian begins its creation in December 1941 with librettist N. D. Volkov and choreographer I. A. Moiseev . "This should be a monumental heroic performance that will show the Soviet audience the best person in all of ancient history, which, according to Marx, is Spartacus" ( L. Mikheeva. Aram Khachaturian. Ballet "Spartacus" Spartacus.19.04.2011.) The score was written in 1954. In Kirovsky, the premiere staged by Yakobson took place in 1956. In Moscow, staged by Moiseev - in 1958. In 1968 the ballet was staged by Grigorovich...

Why did I decide to talk about it? The point is that the Igor Moiseev was a very unusual and talented student - Fayzi Gaskarov , who left the master's ensemble in 1939 in order to create his own folk dance theater in Ufa - the Bashkir Folk Dance Ensemble ... (I will definitely tell about my meetings with the work of this group, only in 1994 ... someday later)
On the other hand, in 1941 a film about the Bashkir national hero Salavat Yulaev was released, shot by Protazanov. Can you guess who wrote the music for this film? Of course, Aram Khachaturian! And he wrote great music.
Salavat Yulaev (1941). Posted on 06/01/2012 by lupuslexwar.

...
Fayzi Gaskarov, of course, wanted to make a film about his theater. And he "removes" it, it is clear that at the Sverdlovsk film studio. Directed by Oleg Nikolaevsky. Composer Lev Stepanov. I don’t know, I beg your pardon, neither such a director, nor such a composer, more talented creators honed their feathers on national themes. The film, unfortunately, turned out to be weak, but now it is a unique document... And the very attempt to combine ballet and folk dance is interesting... And, of course, we will talk about a bird girl!
Crane song. Uploaded by getmovies on 06/25/2011.

In a word, here we are back to the boy sitting on the rock above Ufa... The one who is sitting today will choose his own path... And I suspect that the same will to freedom is ripening in him...
...
Around the topic:
- Against time, meaning, nature, soul. (about ballet)
- .
- Work on abstracts. Sociology of music. Drafts.(Adorno)
- The myth of Pan and Siring. From the archive.
-

Farid Yarullin

Libretto by A. Faizi and L. Jacobson. Instrumentation of the 2nd edition by V. Vlasov and V. Fere. Choreographer L. Jacobson. First performance (2nd edition): Leningrad, Opera and Ballet Theatre. S. M. Kirov, June 28, 1950

Act one

Dense forest. Night. Illuminated by the faint light of the moon, ancient trees blacken gloomily. In the hollow of one of them is the lair of Shurale, the evil lord of the forest. It's getting light. A young hunter Batyr appears in a forest clearing. Seeing a flying bird, he grabs a bow and arrow and rushes after it. Shurale emerges from his lair. Wake up all the forest spirits subject to him. Genies, witches, shuralyats entertain their master with dances. The sun is rising. The evil is hiding. A flock of birds descends into the clearing. They shed their wings and turn into girls. The girls run through the woods. The last to be freed from the wings is the beautiful Syuimbike and also goes into the forest. Shurale, who has been watching her from behind a tree, creeps up to the wings and drags them into his lair. Girls appear from the forest. They lead cheerful round dances in the clearing. Suddenly, Shurale jumps from a tree at them. Frightened girls quickly raise their wings and, becoming birds, rise into the air. Only Syuimbike rushes about, not finding his wings. Shurale orders the shuralites to surround the girl. The prisoner is horrified. Shurale is ready to celebrate victory, but Batyr runs out of the forest and rushes to the aid of Syuimbike. An enraged Shurale wants to strangle Batyr, but the young man throws the monster to the ground with a strong blow. In vain, Syuimbike, together with his savior, searches everywhere for wings. Tired of fruitless searches, the exhausted Syuimbike sinks to the ground and falls asleep. Batyr carefully takes the sleeping bird girl in his arms and leaves with her. The defeated Shurale threatens to take cruel revenge on Batyr, who stole the bird girl from him.

Action two

Batyr's courtyard in festive decoration. All the fellow villagers came here for a feast in honor of Batyr's betrothal to the beautiful Syuimbike. The guests are having fun, the kids are frolicking. Only one bride is sad. Syuimbike cannot forget about the lost wings. Batyr tries to distract the girl from sad thoughts. But neither the dashing dances of horsemen, nor the girlish round dances can amuse Syuimbike. The holiday is over. The guests disperse. Unnoticed by anyone, Shurale secretly enters the courtyard. Having seized a convenient moment, he throws up her wings to Syuimbike. The girl enthusiastically presses them to her and wants to take off, but stops in indecision: she is sorry to leave her savior. However, the desire to rise into the air is stronger. Syuimbike takes off. Immediately she is surrounded by a flock of crows, sent to Shurale. The bird wants to escape, but the crow forces it to fly towards its master's lair. Batyr runs into the yard. He sees in the sky a white bird flying away, which beats in a ring of black ravens. Grabbing a burning torch, Batyr rushes in pursuit.

Act Three

Shurale's lair. Here the girl-bird languishes in captivity. But Shurale fails to break the proud disposition of Syuimbike, the girl rejects all his claims. In a rage, Shurale wants to give her to be torn to pieces by forest evil spirits. At this moment, Batyr runs out into the clearing with a torch in his hand. At the command of Shurale, all the witches, genies and shuralyats pounce on the young man. Then Batyr sets fire to Shurale's lair. Evil spirits and Shurale himself perish in the fiery element. Batyr and Syuimbike are alone among the raging flames. Batyr gives the girl her wings - the only way to salvation. But Syuimbike does not want to leave his beloved. She throws her wings into the fire - let them both die. Immediately the forest fire goes out. The forest freed from evil spirits is fabulously transformed. Batyr's parents, matchmakers and friends appear. They wish happiness to the bride and groom.

Farid Yarullin. Ballet "Shurale"

On August 30, 1940, a decree was issued on holding a decade of Tatar literature and art in Moscow in August 1941. For such a responsible review, a national ballet was needed. (By the way, the Tatar National Opera House opened only on June 17, 1939). Specialists were involved in the work - Pyotr Gusev was appointed the chief choreographer of the decade, and he invited Leonid Yakobson to stage the first Tatar ballet.
Fortunately, the libretto and score of the ballet called “Shurale” were already in the theater’s portfolio; they were brought to the theater in early 1940 by the writer Ahmet Faizi and the young composer Farid Yarullin. And if the music of the future ballet generally suited the choreographer, then the libretto seemed to him too blurry and oversaturated with literary characters - an inexperienced librettist brought together the heroes of eight works of the classic of Tatar literature Gabdulla Tukay. In February 1941, Yakobson completed a new version of the libretto and the composer began to refine the author's clavier, which he completed in June.
On July 3, 1941, a dress rehearsal of the new ballet took place in Kazan. The ballet troupe of the Tatar Opera and Ballet Theater was strengthened by the dancers of the Dance Island troupe and soloists of the Leningrad Opera and Ballet Theater named after S. M. Kirov. The part of Syuimbike was performed by Naima Baltacheeva, Ali-Batyr by Abdurakhman Kumysnikov, Shurale by Gabdul-Bari Akhtyamov. The performance was designed by the artist E. M. Mandelberg, conductor - I. V. Aukhadeev. Neither the premiere nor the trip to Moscow was discussed anymore - the Great Patriotic War crossed out all plans. The Tatar Opera and Ballet Theater returned to Shurale in 1945. F. V. Vitachek, who taught orchestration and reading scores at the Gnesins Institute, instrumented the score, choreographer Guy Tagirov composed a new libretto.
And in 1958, Farid Yarullin was posthumously awarded the G. Tukay State Prize of Tatarstan for the ballet Shurale.

Wikipedia.

Plot

A clearing in a forest thicket with the lair of the goblin Shurale. Here, lost in the forest, came the hunter Ali-Batyr. A flock of birds descend into the clearing. They shed their wings and turn into beautiful girls. Shurale steals the wings of the most beautiful, Syuimbike. Having played enough, the girls again turn into birds, and Syuimbike searches in vain for his wings. Her friends fly away, and Shurale tries to grab her. Syuimbike calls for help, and Ali-Batyr defeats the goblin in a fierce struggle. He hides, and Syuimbike begs Batyr to find her wings. Lifting the girl in his arms, the hunter takes her out of the forest.
Guests gather in the garden in front of Ali-Batyr's house. Syuimbike sincerely fell in love with her savior and marries him. But longing for the expanse of heaven, for her bird friends does not leave her. After the wedding ritual games, the guests go into the house and sit down at the tables. In the gathering dusk, Shurale sneaks into the garden and places in a conspicuous place the wings of Syuimbike, which were brought to him by assistants - black crows. Leaving the house, the girl gladly sees the wings, puts them on and rises into the air. The crows that have taken off are chasing her to Shurale's lair. Batyr rushes in pursuit.
In the forest lair, Shurale mocks Syuimbike, demands to submit to him. But Batyr is already here. With a burning torch, he sets fire to the forest and enters into a duel with the goblin. In a fierce battle, Batyr's forces leave, and with his last effort he throws Shurale into the fire. He dies, but the fire that flares up threatens the lovers. Batyr extends his wings to Syuimbike, offering salvation, but she, subdued by the power of his love, throws her wings into the fire. And yet they manage to escape.
Again the village where Ali-Batyr lives. In honor of the brave hunter and his beautiful bride, there is a cheerful holiday.

Music.

Shurale is one of the brightest ballets of the Soviet era. His music, based on the rhythmic intonations of Tatar folklore, both song and dance, is brilliantly developed by the composer by all means of professional musical technique.

L. Mikheeva

Libretto by Ahmet Fayzi and Leonid Yakobson based on the poem of the same name by Gabdulla Tukay, based on Tatar folklore.

History of creation

Fortunately, the libretto and score of the ballet called "Shurale" were already in the theater's portfolio, they were brought to the theater in early 1940 by the writer Ahmet Faizi and the young composer Farid Yarullin. And if the music of the future ballet generally suited the choreographer, then the libretto seemed to him too blurry and oversaturated with literary characters - an inexperienced librettist brought together the heroes of eight works of the classic of Tatar literature Gabdulla Tukay. In February 1941, Yakobson completed a new version of the libretto and the composer began to refine the author's clavier, which he completed in June.

Characters

• Syuimbike - Anna Gatsulina
• Ali-Batyr - Gabdul-Bari Akhtyamov
• Shurale - V. Romanyuk
• Taz - Guy Tagirov

Characters

• Syuimbike - Natalia Dudinskaya, (then Alla Shelest, Inna Zubkovskaya, Olga Moiseeva)
• Ali-Batyr - Askold Makarov, (then Konstantin Sergeev, Boris Bregvadze)
• Shurale - Igor Belsky, (then Robert Gerbek, Konstantin Rassadin, Yuri Grigorovich)
• Main matchmaker - A. N. Blatova

Characters

• Syuimbike - Marina Kondratieva, (then Lyudmila Bogomolova)
• Batyr - Vladimir Vasiliev
• Shurale - Vladimir Levashov
• Fiery Witch - Faina Efremova, (then Elmira Kosterina)
• Shaitan - Esfandyar Kashani, (then Nikolay Simachev)
• Shuralyonok (performed by students of the Moscow Art School) - Vasily Vorokhobko, (then A. Aristov)

The performance was held 8 times, the last performance on October 1 of the year

Performances in other theaters

- Bashkir Opera and Ballet Theatre, choreographer F. M. Sattarov

10th of November- Lviv Opera and Ballet Theatre, choreographer M. S. Zaslavsky, production designer Y. F. Nirod, conductor S. M. Arbit

- Troupe "Choreographic Miniatures" - scenes from the ballet "Shurale" in 1 act, choreography by Leonid Yakobson

Bibliography

• Zolotnitsky D."Ali-Batyr" // Smena: newspaper. - L., 1950. - No. June 23.
• V. Bogdanov-Berezovsky"Ali-Batyr" // Evening Leningrad: newspaper. - L., 1950. - No. 26 June.
• Krasovskaya V."Ali-Batyr" // Soviet art: newspaper. - L., 1950. - No. 11 November.
• Dobrovolskaya G. Truce with the classics // . - L.: Art, 1968. - S. 33-55. - 176 p. - 5000 copies.
• Roslavleva N. In new ballets // . - M .: Art, 1968. - S. 66-67. - 164 p. - 75,000 copies.
• Gamaley Yu. Year 1950 // . - L.: PapiRus, 1999. - S. 140-141. - 424 p. - 5000 copies. - ISBN 5-87472-137-1.
• L. I. Abyzova. Dancer of the Kirov Theater // . - St. Petersburg. : Academy of Russian Ballet. A. Ya. Vaganova, 2000. - S. 69-75. - 400 s. - 1200 copies. - ISBN 5-93010-008-X.
• Jacobson L. My work on "Shurale" // Letters to Noverre. Memories and Essays. - N-Y .: Hermitage Publishers, 2001. - S. 33-97. - 507 p. - ISBN 1-55779-133-3.
• Gabashi A.// Tatar world: journal. - Kazan, 2005. - No. 3.
• Yunusova G.// Republic of Tatarstan: newspaper. - Kazan, 2005. - No. May 13.
• // RIA Novosti: RIA. - M ., 2009. - No. June 24.
• Stupnikov I.// St. Petersburg Vedomosti: newspaper. - St. Petersburg. , 2009. - No. 7 July.

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Notes

Links

• on the website of the Tatar Opera and Ballet Theater
• on the website of the Mariinsky Theater
• photo report from the performance of the Tatar Opera and Ballet Theater

An excerpt characterizing Shurale (ballet)

One of the people in the darkness of the night, from behind the high body of the carriage standing at the entrance, noticed another small glow of the fire. One glow had already been visible for a long time, and everyone knew that it was the Little Mytishchi burning, lit by the Mamon Cossacks.
“But this, brothers, is another fire,” said the batman.
Everyone turned their attention to the glow.
- Why, they said, Mamonov Cossacks lit Maly Mytishchi.
- They are! No, this is not Mytishchi, it is far away.
“Look, it’s definitely in Moscow.
Two of the men stepped off the porch, went behind the carriage, and sat down on the footboard.
- It's left! Well, Mytishchi is over there, and this is completely on the other side.
Several people joined the first.
- Look, it's blazing, - said one, - this, gentlemen, is a fire in Moscow: either in Sushchevskaya or in Rogozhskaya.
Nobody responded to this remark. And for a long time all these people silently looked at the distant flames of a new fire.
The old man, the count's valet (as he was called), Danilo Terentyich, went up to the crowd and called out to Mishka.
- You didn’t see anything, slut ... The count will ask, but there is no one; go get your dress.
- Yes, I just ran for water, - said Mishka.
- And what do you think, Danilo Terentyich, it's like a glow in Moscow? one of the footmen said.
Danilo Terentyich made no answer, and again everyone was silent for a long time. The glow spread and swayed further and further.
“God have mercy! .. wind and dry land ...” the voice said again.
- Look how it went. Oh my God! you can see the jackdaws. Lord, have mercy on us sinners!
- They'll put it out.
- Who to put out then? came the voice of Danila Terentyich, who had been silent until now. His voice was calm and slow. “Moscow is indeed, brothers,” he said, “she is the mother of the squirrel…” His voice broke off, and he suddenly let out an old sob. And as if everyone was just waiting for this in order to understand the meaning that this visible glow had for them. There were sighs, words of prayer, and the sobbing of the old count's valet.

The valet, returning, reported to the count that Moscow was on fire. The count put on his dressing-gown and went out to have a look. Sonya, who had not yet undressed, and Madame Schoss came out with him. Natasha and the countess were alone in the room. (Petya was no longer with the family; he went ahead with his regiment, marching to Trinity.)
The Countess wept when she heard the news of the fire in Moscow. Natasha, pale, with fixed eyes, sitting under the icons on the bench (in the very place where she sat down when she arrived), did not pay any attention to her father's words. She listened to the incessant groan of the adjutant, heard through three houses.
- Oh, what a horror! - said, come back from the yard, cold and frightened Sonya. - I think all of Moscow will burn, a terrible glow! Natasha, look now, you can see it from the window from here, ”she said to her sister, apparently wanting to entertain her with something. But Natasha looked at her, as if not understanding what she was being asked, and again stared with her eyes at the corner of the stove. Natasha has been in this state of tetanus since this morning, from the very time that Sonya, to the surprise and annoyance of the countess, for no reason at all, found it necessary to announce to Natasha about the wound of Prince Andrei and about his presence with them on the train. The countess was angry with Sonya, as she rarely got angry. Sonya cried and asked for forgiveness, and now, as if trying to make amends for her guilt, she did not stop caring for her sister.
“Look, Natasha, how terribly it burns,” said Sonya.
- What is on fire? Natasha asked. – Oh, yes, Moscow.
And as if in order not to offend Sonya by her refusal and to get rid of her, she moved her head to the window, looked so that she obviously could not see anything, and again sat down in her former position.
- Didn't you see it?
“No, really, I saw it,” she said in a pleading voice.
Both the countess and Sonya understood that Moscow, the fire of Moscow, whatever it was, of course, could not matter to Natasha.
The count again went behind the partition and lay down. The countess went up to Natasha, touched her head with her upturned hand, as she did when her daughter was sick, then touched her forehead with her lips, as if to find out if there was a fever, and kissed her.
- You are cold. You're all trembling. You should go to bed,” she said.
- Lie down? Yes, okay, I'll go to bed. I'm going to bed now, - said Natasha.
Since Natasha was told this morning that Prince Andrei was seriously wounded and was traveling with them, she only in the first minute asked a lot about where? as? is he dangerously injured? and can she see him? But after she was told that she was not allowed to see him, that he was seriously injured, but that his life was not in danger, she obviously did not believe what she was told, but convinced that no matter how much she said, she would be answer the same thing, stopped asking and talking. All the way, with big eyes, which the countess knew so well and whose expression the countess was so afraid of, Natasha sat motionless in the corner of the carriage and was now sitting in the same way on the bench on which she sat down. She was thinking about something, something she was deciding or had already decided in her mind now - the countess knew this, but what it was, she did not know, and this frightened and tormented her.
- Natasha, undress, my dear, lie down on my bed. (Only the countess alone was made a bed on the bed; m me Schoss and both young ladies had to sleep on the floor in the hay.)
“No, mom, I’ll lie down here on the floor,” Natasha said angrily, went to the window and opened it. The groan of the adjutant was heard more distinctly from the open window. She stuck her head out into the damp night air, and the countess saw her thin shoulders tremble with sobs and beat against the frame. Natasha knew that it was not Prince Andrei who was moaning. She knew that Prince Andrei was lying in the same connection where they were, in another hut across the passage; but this terrible unceasing groan made her sob. The Countess exchanged glances with Sonya.
"Lie down, my dear, lie down, my friend," said the countess, lightly touching Natasha's shoulder with her hand. - Well, go to bed.
“Ah, yes ... I’ll lie down now, now,” said Natasha, hastily undressing and tearing off the strings of her skirts. Throwing off her dress and putting on a jacket, she tucked her legs up, sat down on the bed prepared on the floor and, throwing her short, thin braid over her shoulder, began to weave it. Thin long habitual fingers quickly, deftly took apart, weaved, tied a braid. Natasha's head, with a habitual gesture, turned first to one side, then to the other, but her eyes, feverishly open, fixedly stared straight ahead. When the night costume was over, Natasha quietly sank down on a sheet spread on hay from the edge of the door.
“Natasha, lie down in the middle,” said Sonya.
“No, I’m here,” Natasha said. "Go to bed," she added with annoyance. And she buried her face in the pillow.
The countess, m me Schoss, and Sonya hurriedly undressed and lay down. One lamp was left in the room. But in the yard it was bright from the fire of Maly Mytishchi, two miles away, and the drunken cries of the people were buzzing in the tavern, which was broken by the Mamon Cossacks, on the warp, in the street, and the incessant groan of the adjutant was heard all the time.
For a long time Natasha listened to the internal and external sounds that reached her, and did not move. At first she heard her mother's prayer and sighs, the creaking of her bed under her, the familiar whistling snore of m me Schoss, Sonya's quiet breathing. Then the Countess called Natasha. Natasha did not answer her.
“He seems to be sleeping, mother,” Sonya answered quietly. The Countess, after a pause, called again, but no one answered her.
Soon after, Natasha heard her mother's even breathing. Natasha did not move, despite the fact that her small bare foot, knocked out from under the covers, shivered on the bare floor.
As if celebrating the victory over everyone, a cricket screamed in the crack. The rooster crowed far away, relatives responded. In the tavern, the screams died down, only the same stand of the adjutant was heard. Natasha got up.
- Sonya? are you sleeping? Mother? she whispered. Nobody answered. Natasha slowly and cautiously got up, crossed herself and carefully stepped with her narrow and flexible bare foot on the dirty cold floor. The floorboard creaked. She, quickly moving her feet, ran like a kitten a few steps and took hold of the cold bracket of the door.
It seemed to her that something heavy, evenly striking, was knocking on all the walls of the hut: it was beating her heart, which was dying from fear, from horror and love, bursting.
She opened the door, stepped over the threshold and stepped onto the damp, cold earth of the porch. The chill that gripped her refreshed her. She felt the sleeping man with her bare foot, stepped over him and opened the door to the hut where Prince Andrei lay. It was dark in this hut. In the back corner, by the bed, on which something was lying, on a bench stood a tallow candle burnt with a large mushroom.
In the morning, Natasha, when she was told about the wound and the presence of Prince Andrei, decided that she should see him. She didn't know what it was for, but she knew that the date would be painful, and she was even more convinced that it was necessary.
All day she lived only in the hope that at night she would see him. But now that the moment had come, she was terrified of what she would see. How was he mutilated? What was left of him? Was he like that, what was that unceasing groan of the adjutant? Yes, he was. He was in her imagination the personification of that terrible moan. When she saw an indistinct mass in the corner and took his knees raised under the covers by his shoulders, she imagined some kind of terrible body and stopped in horror. But an irresistible force pulled her forward. She cautiously took one step, then another, and found herself in the middle of a small cluttered hut. In the hut, under the images, another person was lying on benches (it was Timokhin), and two more people were lying on the floor (they were a doctor and a valet).
The valet got up and whispered something. Timokhin, suffering from pain in his wounded leg, did not sleep and looked with all his eyes at the strange appearance of a girl in a poor shirt, jacket and eternal cap. The sleepy and frightened words of the valet; "What do you want, why?" - they only made Natasha come up to the one that lay in the corner as soon as possible. As terrifying as this body was, it must have been visible to her. She passed the valet: the burning mushroom of the candle fell off, and she clearly saw Prince Andrei lying on the blanket with outstretched arms, just as she had always seen him.
He was the same as always; but the inflamed complexion of his face, the brilliant eyes fixed enthusiastically on her, and especially the tender childish neck protruding from the laid back collar of his shirt, gave him a special, innocent, childish look, which, however, she had never seen in Prince Andrei. She walked over to him and, with a quick, lithe, youthful movement, knelt down.
He smiled and extended his hand to her.

For Prince Andrei, seven days have passed since he woke up at the dressing station in the Borodino field. All this time he was almost in constant unconsciousness. The fever and inflammation of the intestines, which were damaged, in the opinion of the doctor who was traveling with the wounded, must have carried him away. But on the seventh day he ate with pleasure a piece of bread with tea, and the doctor noticed that the general fever had decreased. Prince Andrei regained consciousness in the morning. The first night after leaving Moscow was quite warm, and Prince Andrei was left to sleep in a carriage; but in Mytishchi the wounded man himself demanded to be carried out and to be given tea. The pain inflicted on him by being carried to the hut made Prince Andrei moan loudly and lose consciousness again. When they laid him down on the camp bed, he lay with his eyes closed for a long time without moving. Then he opened them and whispered softly: “What about tea?” This memory for the small details of life struck the doctor. He felt his pulse and, to his surprise and displeasure, noticed that the pulse was better. To his displeasure, the doctor noticed this because, from his experience, he was convinced that Prince Andrei could not live, and that if he did not die now, he would only die with great suffering some time later. With Prince Andrei they carried the major of his regiment Timokhin, who had joined them in Moscow, with a red nose, wounded in the leg in the same Battle of Borodino. They were accompanied by a doctor, the prince's valet, his coachman and two batmen.
Prince Andrei was given tea. He drank greedily, looking ahead at the door with feverish eyes, as if trying to understand and remember something.
- I don't want any more. Timokhin here? - he asked. Timokhin crawled up to him along the bench.
“I'm here, Your Excellency.
- How is the wound?
– My then with? Nothing. Here you are? - Prince Andrei again thought, as if remembering something.
- Could you get a book? - he said.
- Which book?
– Gospel! I have no.
The doctor promised to get it and began to question the prince about how he felt. Prince Andrei reluctantly but reasonably answered all the doctor's questions and then said that he should have put a roller on him, otherwise it would be awkward and very painful. The doctor and the valet raised the overcoat with which he was covered, and, wincing at the heavy smell of rotten meat spreading from the wound, began to examine this terrible place. The doctor was very dissatisfied with something, he altered something differently, turned the wounded man over so that he again groaned and, from pain during the turning, again lost consciousness and began to rave. He kept talking about getting this book as soon as possible and putting it there.
- And what does it cost you! he said. “I don’t have it, please take it out, put it in for a minute,” he said in a pitiful voice.
The doctor went out into the hallway to wash his hands.
“Ah, shameless, really,” said the doctor to the valet, who was pouring water on his hands. I just didn't watch it for a minute. After all, you put it right on the wound. It's such a pain that I wonder how he endures.
“We seem to have planted, Lord Jesus Christ,” said the valet.
For the first time, Prince Andrei understood where he was and what had happened to him, and remembered that he had been wounded and that at the moment when the carriage stopped in Mytishchi, he asked to go to the hut. Confused again from pain, he came to his senses another time in the hut, when he was drinking tea, and then again, repeating in his recollection everything that had happened to him, he most vividly imagined that moment at the dressing station when, at the sight of the suffering of a person he did not love , these new thoughts that promised him happiness came to him. And these thoughts, although vague and indefinite, now again took possession of his soul. He remembered that he now had a new happiness and that this happiness had something in common with the Gospel. That's why he asked for the gospel. But the bad position that had been given to his wound, the new turning over again confused his thoughts, and for the third time he woke up to life in the perfect stillness of the night. Everyone was sleeping around him. The cricket was shouting across the entryway, someone was shouting and singing in the street, cockroaches rustled on the table and icons, in autumn a thick fly beat on his headboard and near a tallow candle that was burning with a large mushroom and stood beside him.

→ Tatar fairy tale "Shurale"

There was a brave woodcutter in one village.
One winter he went to the forest and began chopping wood. Suddenly appeared in front of him.
- What's your name, man? - asks Shurale *.
- My name is Byltyr **, - the woodcutter answers.
- Come on, Byltyr, let's play, - says Shurale.
- I'm not up to the game now, - the woodcutter answers. - I won't play with you!
Shurale got angry and shouted:
- Ah well! Well, then I won't let you out of the woods alive!
The woodcutter sees - it's a bad thing.
“Okay,” he says. - I'll play with you, but first help me split the deck.
The woodcutter struck the log with an ax once, struck twice, and said:
"Put your fingers in the gap so it doesn't get pinched until I hit it a third time."
He stuck his fingers into the crack in Shurale, and the woodcutter pulled out an axe. Here the deck closed tightly and pinched Shurale's fingers. That was all the lumberjack needed. He collected his firewood and left as soon as possible for the village. And Shurale, let's shout to the whole forest:
- Byltyr pinched my fingers! .. Byltyr pinched my fingers! ..
Other shurales came running to the cry, asking:
- What happened? Who pinched?
- Bytyr pinched! Shurale answers.
“If so, we can’t help you,” other shurales say. - If it happened today, we would help you. Since it was last year, where can you find it now? Silly you! You should have screamed not now, but last year!
And stupid Shurale could not really explain anything to them.
They say that Shurale put the deck on his back and still carries it on himself, while he himself shouts loudly:
- Byltyr pinched my fingers! ..