Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy. Leo Tolstoy - Albert Preface to the electronic edition

Five rich and young people came one night to have fun at a St. Petersburg balik. A lot of champagne was drunk, the girls were beautiful, dancing and noise did not stop; but it was somehow boring, awkward, for some reason it seemed to everyone that all this was not right and unnecessary.

One of the five young people, Delesov, more than others dissatisfied with himself and in the evening, went out with the intention of leaving quietly. In the next room he heard an argument, and then the door was flung open, and a strange figure appeared on the threshold. He was a man of medium height, with a narrow, arched back and long, tousled hair. He wore a short overcoat and torn tight trousers over unpolished boots. A dirty shirt protruded from the sleeves over thin arms. But, despite the extreme thinness of his body, his face was soft, white, and even a fresh blush played on his cheeks, above his sparse black beard and sideburns. Uncombed hair, thrown up, showed a low clean forehead. Dark tired eyes looked ahead softly, searchingly and importantly. Their expression merged with the expression of fresh, curved lips at the corners, visible from behind a sparse mustache. He paused, turned to Delesov and smiled. When a smile lit up his face, Delesov - not knowing why - smiled too.

He was told that this is a crazy musician from the theater who sometimes comes to the hostess. Delesov returned to the hall, the musician stood at the door, looking at the dancers with a smile. He was called to dance, and winking, smiling and twitching, he went heavily, awkwardly, jumping around the hall. In the middle of the quadrille, he collided with an officer and fell to the floor with all his height. Almost everyone laughed in the first minute, but the musician did not get up. The guests fell silent.

When the musician was lifted up and seated on a chair, he pushed back his hair from his forehead with a quick movement of his bony hand and began to smile without answering questions. The hostess, looking sympathetically at the musician, said to the guests: "He is a very good fellow, only miserable."

Then the musician woke up and, as if frightened of something, cringed and pushed away those around him.

It's all nothing, - he suddenly said, with a visible effort, rising from his chair.

And, to prove that he was not in the least hurt, he went to the middle of the room and wanted to jump, but he staggered and would have fallen again if he had not been supported. Everyone became uncomfortable. Suddenly he raised his head, put his trembling leg forward, threw back his hair with the same vulgar gesture and, going up to the violinist, took the violin from him: “Gentlemen! Let's play music!"

What a beautiful face! .. There is something extraordinary in it, - said Delesov. Meanwhile, Albert (that was the name of the musician), paying no attention to anyone, tuned the violin. Then, with a smooth movement of the bow, he ran it along the strings. A clear, harmonious sound rushed through the room, and there was complete silence.

The sounds of the theme flowed freely, gracefully after the first, suddenly illuminating with some unexpectedly clear and soothing light. inner world every listener. From the state of boredom, fuss and spiritual sleep in which these people were, they were suddenly imperceptibly transferred to a completely different world, forgotten by them. Visions of the past, past happiness, love and sadness arose in their souls. Albert grew taller with every note. He was no longer ugly or strange. Pressing the violin under his chin and listening with passionate attention to his sounds, he convulsively moved his legs. Now he straightened up to his full height, then diligently bent his back. His face shone with ecstatic joy; eyes burned, nostrils flared, lips parted with pleasure.

All who were in the room during Albert's game remained silent and seemed to breathe only his sounds. Delesov experienced an unusual feeling. A frost ran down his back, rising higher and higher to his throat, and now something with thin needles pricked in his nose, and tears imperceptibly poured onto his cheeks. The sounds of the violin carried Delesov back to his first youth. He suddenly felt like a seventeen-year-old, smugly handsome, blissfully stupid and unconsciously happy being. He remembered the first love for his cousin, the first confession, the warmth and incomprehensible charm of an accidental kiss, the unsolved mystery of the surrounding nature at that time. All the invaluable minutes of that time, one after another, rose before him. He contemplated them with pleasure and wept ...

Towards the end of the last variation, Albert's face turned red, his eyes burned, beads of sweat streamed down his cheeks. The whole body began to move more and more, the pale lips no longer closed, and the whole figure expressed an enthusiastic greed for pleasure. Desperately waving his whole body and tossing his hair, he lowered the violin and looked around at those present with a smile of proud majesty and happiness. Then his back bent, his head drooped, his lips pursed, his eyes dimmed, and he, as if ashamed of himself, looking around timidly and tangling his feet, went into another room.

Something strange happened to everyone present, and something strange was felt in the dead silence that followed Albert's game ...

However, it's time to go, gentlemen, - one guest broke the silence. - I'll have to give him something. Let's stock up.

The clubhouse was made rich, and Delesov undertook to pass it on. In addition, it occurred to him to take the musician to him, dress him, attach him to some place - to wrest him out of this dirty situation.

I would like to drink something, - said Albert, as if waking up, when Delesov approached him. Delesov brought wine, and the musician drank it greedily.

Can you lend me some money? I am a poor person. I can't give you.

Delesov blushed, he felt embarrassed, and he hastily handed over the collected money.

Thank you very much,” said Albert, grabbing the money. - Now let's play music; I will play for you as long as you want. Just something to drink,” he added, getting up.

I would be very glad if you settled with me for a while, ”Delesov suggested.

I would not advise you, - said the hostess, shaking her head.

When Delesov got into the carriage with Albert and felt that unpleasant smell of drunkards and uncleanness that the musician was saturated with, he began to repent of his act and blame himself for softness of heart and imprudence. Delesov looked back at the musician. Looking at this face, he was again transported to that blissful world into which he looked this night; and he ceased to repent of his act.

The next day in the morning, he again remembered the black eyes and the happy smile of the musician; the whole strange last night flashed through his mind. Passing by the dining room, Delesov looked in the door. Albert, burying his face in the pillow and spreading himself, in a dirty, tattered shirt, dead sleep slept on the couch where he, insensible, had been laid last night.

Delesov asked Zakhar, who had been serving with Delesov for eight years, to borrow a violin from friends for two days, find clean clothes for the musician and take care of him. When Delesov returned home late in the evening, he did not find Albert there. Zakhar said that Albert left immediately after dinner, promised to come in an hour, but had not yet returned. Zakhar liked Albert: “Definitely an artist! And a very good character. The way he played “Down Mother Volga” to us, just like a person cries. Even from all the floors people came to us in the hallway to listen.” Delesov warned that Zakhar should not give the musician anything to drink from now on and sent him to find and bring Albert.

Delesov could not fall asleep for a long time, he kept thinking about Albert: “So rarely do you do something not for yourself that you have to thank God when such an opportunity presents itself, and I will not miss it.” A pleasant feeling of self-satisfaction seized him after such reasoning.

He was already falling asleep when footsteps in the hall woke him up. Zakhar came and said that Albert had returned, drunk. Zakhar had not yet had time to leave, when Albert entered the room. He told me that he had been to Anna Ivanovna's and had spent the evening very pleasantly.

Albert was the same as yesterday: the same beautiful smile of his eyes and lips, the same bright, inspired forehead and weak limbs. Zakhar's coat fit him just right, and the clean, long collar of his nightgown draped picturesquely around his thin white neck, giving him something particularly childish and innocent. He sat down on Delesov's bed and silently, smiling happily and gratefully, looked at him. Delesov looked into Albert's eyes and suddenly felt again at the mercy of his smile. He no longer wanted to sleep, he forgot about his duty to be strict, he wanted, on the contrary, to have fun, listen to music and chat with Albert in a friendly way until morning.

They talked about music, aristocrats and opera. Albert jumped up, grabbed his violin and began to play the finale of the first act of Don Juan, recounting the contents of the opera in his own words. Delesov's hair stirred on his head as he played the voice of the dying commander.

There was a pause. They looked at each other and smiled. Delesov felt that he loved this man more and more, and experienced incomprehensible joy.

Have you been in love? he suddenly asked.

Albert thought for a few seconds, then his face lit up with a sad smile.

Yes, I was in love. It happened a long time ago. I went to play second violin at the opera, and she went there for performances. I was silent and only looked at her; I knew that I was a poor artist, and she was an aristocratic lady. I was called once to accompany her on the violin. How happy I was! But it was my own fault, I went crazy. I didn't have to say anything to her. But I've gone crazy, I've done stupid things. Since then, everything has ended for me ... I came to the orchestra late. She sat in her box and spoke to the general. She spoke to him and looked at me. This is where it got weird for the first time. Suddenly I saw that I was not in the orchestra, but in a box, standing with her and holding her hand ... I was already poor even then, I didn’t have an apartment, and when I went to the theater, sometimes I stayed overnight there. As soon as everyone left, I went to the box where she was sitting and slept. It was my only joy… Only once it started again with me. I began to imagine at night ... I kissed her hand, talked a lot with her. I could smell her perfume, I could hear her voice. Then I took the violin and slowly began to play. And I played great. But I became scared... It seemed to me that something had happened in my head.

Delesov silently, with horror, looked at the agitated and pale face of his interlocutor.

Let's go again to Anna Ivanovna; It’s fun there,” Albert suddenly suggested.

Delesov almost agreed at first. However, having come to his senses, he began to persuade Albert not to go. Then he ordered Zakhara not to let Albert go anywhere without his knowledge.

The next day was a holiday. Not a sound was heard in Albert's room, and only at twelve o'clock was heard groaning and coughing outside the door. Delesov overheard how Albert was persuading Zakhar to give him vodka. “No, if you have taken it, you have to endure the character,” Delesov told himself, ordering Zakhar not to give the musician wine.

Two hours later Delesov looked in on Albert. Albert sat motionless by the window, his head in his hands. His face was yellow, wrinkled and deeply unhappy. He tried to smile in greeting, but his face took on an even more rueful look. He looked like he was ready to cry, but he got up with difficulty and bowed. After that, no matter what Delesov said, suggesting that he play the violin, take a walk, go to the theater in the evening, he only bowed obediently and stubbornly remained silent. Delesov left on business. Returning, he saw that Albert was sitting in a dark hall. He was neatly dressed, washed and combed; but his eyes were dull, dead, and his whole figure expressed weakness and exhaustion, even greater than in the morning.

I spoke today about you to the director, - said Delesov, - he is very glad to receive you, if you allow yourself to be heard.

Thank you, I can’t play, - Albert said under his breath and went into his room, especially quietly closing the door behind him.

A few minutes later the knob turned just as quietly, and he left his room with the violin. Glancing angrily and briefly at Delesov, he put the violin on a chair and disappeared again. Delesov shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “What else can I do? what am I guilty of?" he thought

... Albert every day became gloomier and more silent. He seemed to be afraid of Delesov. He did not pick up any books or violin and did not answer any questions.

On the third day of the musician's stay with him, Delesov arrived home late in the evening, tired and upset:

Tomorrow I will get him decisively: does he want or not to stay with me and follow my advice? No - you don't have to. It seems that I did everything I could, - he announced to Zakhar. “No, it was a childish act,” Delesov then decided to himself. “Where can I take to correct others, when only God forbid I can cope with myself.” He wanted to let Albert go now, but on second thought he put it off until tomorrow.

At night, Delesov was awakened by the sound of a fallen table in the hall, voices and clatter. Delesov ran out into the hall: Zakhar stood opposite the door, Albert, in a hat and coat, pushed him away from the door and shouted at him in a tearful voice.

Allow me, Dmitry Ivanovich! - Zakhar turned to the master, continuing to defend the door with his back. - They got up at night, found the key and drank a whole decanter of sweet vodka. And now they want to leave. You didn't order, that's why I can't let them in.

Step back, Zakhar, - said Delesov. “I don’t want to keep you and I can’t, but I would advise you to stay until tomorrow,” he turned to Albert.

Albert stopped screaming. "Failed? They wanted to kill me. Not!" he muttered to himself, putting on his galoshes. Without saying goodbye and continuing to say something incomprehensible, he went out the door.

Delesov vividly remembered the first two evenings that he spent with the musician, remembered the last sad days, and most importantly, he recalled that sweet mixed feeling of surprise, love and compassion that aroused in him at first sight this a strange man; and he felt sorry for him. “And what will happen to him now? he thought. “No money, no warm clothes, alone in the middle of the night…” He was about to send Zakhar after him, but it was too late.

It was cold outside, but Albert did not feel the cold, he was so heated by the wine he had drunk and the argument. Putting his hands in the pockets of his trousers and leaning forward, Albert walked along the street with heavy and unsteady steps. He felt extreme heaviness in his legs in his stomach, some invisible force was throwing him from side to side, but he still walked forward in the direction of Anna Ivanovna's apartment. Strange, incoherent thoughts roamed in his head.

He recalled the object of his passion and a terrible night in the theater. But, in spite of their incoherence, all these memories appeared to him with such vividness that, closing his eyes, he did not know that there was more reality.

Walking along Malaya Morskaya, Albert stumbled and fell. Waking up for a moment, he saw in front of him some huge, magnificent building. And Albert entered the wide doors. It was dark inside. Some irresistible force pulled him forward to the deepening of the huge hall... There was some kind of elevation, and some small people stood silently around it.

On the dais stood a tall, thin man in a colorful robe. Albert immediately recognized his friend, the artist Petrov. “No, brothers! - said Petrov, pointing to someone. - You did not understand the man who lived between you! He is not a corrupt artist, not a mechanical performer, not a crazy, not a lost person. He is a genius who died among you unnoticed and unappreciated. Albert immediately understood who his friend was talking about; but, not wanting to embarrass him, out of modesty lowered his head.

“He, like a straw, burned out all from that sacred fire that we all serve,” the voice continued, “but he fulfilled everything that was put into him by God; That is why he should be called a great man. He loves one thing - beauty, the only undoubted good in the world. Fall prostrate before him!” he shouted loudly.

But another voice spoke softly from the opposite corner of the hall. “I don’t want to fall in front of him,” Albert immediately recognized Delesov’s voice. - Why is he great? Was he acting honestly? Has he benefited society? Don't we know how he borrowed money and didn't pay it back, how he took the violin from his fellow artist and pawned it? how he flattered because of the money? We don’t know how he was kicked out of the theater?

“Stop! Petrov's voice spoke again. What right do you have to accuse him? Did you live his life? (“True, true!” Albert whispered.) Art is the highest manifestation of power in man. It is given to the rare chosen ones and raises them to such a height at which the head is spinning and it is difficult to remain sane. In art, as in any struggle, there are heroes who gave everything to their service and perished without reaching their goal. Yes, humiliate, despise him, and of all of us he is the best and happiest!

Albert, listening to these words with bliss in his soul, could not stand it, went up to his friend and wanted to kiss him.

“Get out, I don’t know you,” answered Petrov, “go your way, otherwise you won’t get there ...”

Look, you've been torn apart! You won't get there, - the guard at the crossroads shouted.

There were a few steps left before Anna Ivanovna. Grabbing the railing with frozen hands, Albert ran up the stairs and rang the bell.

It is forbidden! cried the sleepy maid. - Not ordered to let, - and slammed the door.

Albert sat down on the floor, leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. At the same moment, crowds of incoherent visions surrounded him with renewed vigor and carried him somewhere there, into the free and beautiful realm of dreams.

In the nearest church, a blasphemy was heard, he said: “Yes, he is the best and happiest!” “But I’ll go back to the hall,” thought Albert. “Petrov still has a lot to tell me.” There was no one in the hall, and instead of the artist Petrov, Albert himself stood on the dais and played the violin. But the violin was of a strange design: it was all made of glass. And she had to be hugged with both hands and slowly pressed to her chest in order for her to make sounds. The tighter he pressed the violin to his chest, the more gratifying and sweeter he became. The louder the sounds became, the more the shadows scattered and the more the walls of the hall were illuminated with a transparent light. But it was necessary to play the violin very carefully so as not to crush it. Albert played things that he felt no one would ever hear again. He was starting to get tired when another distant dull sound amused him. It was the sound of a bell, but the sound said, “Yes. He seems pitiful to you, you despise him, but he is the best and happiest! No one will ever play this instrument again." Albert stopped playing, raised his hands and eyes to the sky. He felt wonderful and happy. Despite the fact that there was no one in the hall, Albert straightened his chest and, proudly raising his head, stood on a dais so that everyone could see him.

Suddenly a hand lightly touched his shoulder; he turned and saw a woman in the half-light. She looked at him sadly and shook her head. He immediately realized that what he was doing was bad, and he felt ashamed of himself. It was the one he loved. She took his hand and led him out of the room. On the threshold of the hall, Albert saw the moon and water. But the water was not below, as is usually the case, and the moon was not above. The moon and water were together and everywhere. Albert, together with her, threw himself into the moon and water and realized that now he could embrace the one he loved more than anything in the world; he embraced her and felt unbearable happiness.

And then he felt that something inexpressible happiness, which he enjoyed at the present moment, had passed and would never return. "What am I crying about?" he asked her. She silently looked at him sadly. Albert understood what she meant by that. "But how, when I'm alive," he said. Something was pressing harder and harder on Albert. Whether it was the moon and water, her hugs or tears, he did not know, but he felt that he would not express everything that was necessary, and that everything would soon be over.

Two guests, leaving Anna Ivanovna's, stumbled upon Albert stretched out on the threshold. One of them returned and called the hostess.

It's godless, - he said, - you could freeze a person that way.

Ah, this is Albert for me, - answered the hostess. "Put it somewhere in the room," she said to the maid.

Yes, I'm alive, why bury me? - muttered Albert, while he, unconscious, was carried into the rooms.

Tolstoy Lev Nikolaevich

Lev Tolstoy

Five rich and young people arrived at three o'clock in the morning to have fun at the St. Petersburg balik.

A lot of champagne was drunk, most of the gentlemen were very young, the girls were beautiful, the piano and violin tirelessly played one polka after another, the dancing and noise did not stop; but it was somehow boring, awkward, for some reason it seemed to everyone (as often happens) that all this was not right and unnecessary.

Several times they tried to raise their merriment, but the feigned merriment was even worse than boredom.

One of the five young people, more than others dissatisfied with himself, and with others, and with the whole evening, got up with a feeling of disgust, found his hat and went out with the intention of quietly leaving.

There was no one in the hall, but in the next room, behind the door, he heard two voices arguing with each other. The young man paused and began to listen.

Let go, please, I'm nothing! pleaded a weak male voice.

Yes, I won’t let you in without madam’s permission, ”the woman said,“ where are you going? oh what!..

The door swung open and a strange male figure appeared on the threshold. Seeing the guest, the maid ceased to hold back, and a strange figure, bowing timidly, staggering on bent legs, entered the room. He was a man of medium height, with a narrow, arched back and long, tousled hair. He wore a short overcoat and torn tight trousers over rough, unpolished boots. A tie, twisted with a rope, tied around a long white neck. A dirty shirt protruded from the sleeves over thin arms. But, despite the extreme thinness of his body, his face was soft, white, and even a fresh blush played on his cheeks, above his sparse black beard and sideburns. Uncombed hair, thrown up, showed a low and extremely clean forehead. Dark tired eyes looked ahead softly, searchingly and importantly at the same time. Their expression merged captivatingly with the expression of fresh, curved lips at the corners, visible from behind a sparse mustache.

After walking a few steps, he paused, turned to the young man and smiled. He smiled as if with difficulty; but when a smile lit up his face, the young man - without knowing what - smiled too.

Who is that? he asked in a whisper to the maid, as a strange figure passed into the room from which the dancing could be heard.

A mad musician from the theatre, - answered the maid, - he sometimes comes to the mistress.

Where did you go, Delesov? - shouted at this time from the hall.

The young man, whose name was Delesov, returned to the hall.

The musician stood at the door and, looking at the dancers, with a smile, a look and a stamping of his feet, showed the pleasure this spectacle gave him.

Well, go and dance, - one of the guests told him.

The musician bowed and looked inquiringly at the mistress.

Go, go, - well, when the gentlemen invite you, - the hostess intervened.

The thin, weak members of the musician suddenly came into increased movement, and winking, smiling and twitching, he began to jump heavily, awkwardly around the hall. In the middle of the quadrille, a cheerful officer, who danced very beautifully and animatedly, inadvertently pushed the musician with his back. Weak, tired legs could not keep balance, and the musician, having taken several shaky steps to the side, fell to the floor from all his height. Despite the harsh, dry sound the fall made, almost everyone laughed in the first minute.

But the musician did not get up. The guests fell silent, even the piano stopped playing, and Delesov and the hostess were the first to run up to the fallen man. He lay on his elbow and stared dully at the ground. When he was lifted up and seated on a chair, he pushed back his hair from his forehead with a quick movement of his bony hand and began to smile without answering questions.

Mr Albert! Mr Albert! the hostess said. - What, hurt? where? So I said that it was not necessary to dance. He is so weak,” she continued, turning to the guests, “he can hardly walk, where is he!

Who is he? - asked the hostess.

Poor man, artist. A very good fellow, only pathetic, as you can see.

She said this without being embarrassed by the presence of the musician. The musician woke up and, as if frightened of something, cringed and pushed away those around him.

It's all nothing, - he suddenly said, with a visible effort, rising from his chair.

And, to prove that he was not in the least hurt, he went to the middle of the room and wanted to jump, but he staggered and would have fallen again if he had not been supported.

Tolstoy Lev Nikolaevich

Lev Tolstoy

Five rich and young people arrived at three o'clock in the morning to have fun at the St. Petersburg balik.

Several times they tried to raise their merriment, but the feigned merriment was even worse than boredom.

There was no one in the hall, but in the next room, behind the door, he heard two voices arguing with each other. The young man paused and began to listen.

Let go, please, I'm nothing! pleaded a weak male voice.

Yes, I won’t let you in without madam’s permission, ”the woman said,“ where are you going? oh what!..

After walking a few steps, he paused, turned to the young man and smiled. He smiled as if with difficulty; but when a smile lit up his face, the young man - without knowing what - smiled too.

Who is that? he asked in a whisper to the maid, as a strange figure passed into the room from which the dancing could be heard.

A mad musician from the theatre, - answered the maid, - he sometimes comes to the mistress.

Where did you go, Delesov? - shouted at this time from the hall.

The young man, whose name was Delesov, returned to the hall.

The musician stood at the door and, looking at the dancers, with a smile, a look and a stamping of his feet, showed the pleasure this spectacle gave him.

Well, go and dance, - one of the guests told him.

The musician bowed and looked inquiringly at the mistress.

Go, go, - well, when the gentlemen invite you, - the hostess intervened.

Mr Albert! Mr Albert! the hostess said. - What, hurt? where? So I said that it was not necessary to dance. He is so weak,” she continued, turning to the guests, “he can hardly walk, where is he!

Who is he? - asked the hostess.

Poor man, artist. A very good fellow, only pathetic, as you can see.

She said this without being embarrassed by the presence of the musician. The musician woke up and, as if frightened of something, cringed and pushed away those around him.

It's all nothing, - he suddenly said, with a visible effort, rising from his chair.

And, to prove that he was not in the least hurt, he went to the middle of the room and wanted to jump, but he staggered and would have fallen again if he had not been supported.

Everyone felt awkward; looking at him, everyone was silent.

The musician's gaze faded again, and he, apparently forgetting about everyone, rubbed his knee with his hand. Suddenly he raised his head, put his trembling leg forward, threw back his hair with the same vulgar gesture as before, and, going up to the violinist, took the violin from him.

Everything is nothing! he repeated once more, waving his violin. - Gentlemen, let's play music.

What a strange face! the guests were talking to each other.

May be, great talent perishes in this unfortunate creature! - said one of the guests.

Yes, pathetic, pathetic! - said another.

What a beautiful face! .. There is something unusual in it, - said Delesov, - let's see ...

Albert at this time, not paying attention to anyone, pressing the violin to his shoulder, slowly walked along the piano and tuned it. His lips were drawn into an impassive expression, his eyes were not visible; but the narrow, bony back, long white neck, crooked legs, and shaggy black head presented a wonderful, but somehow not at all funny, sight. Having tuned his violin, he briskly struck a chord and, throwing up his head, turned to the drunkard, who was preparing to accompany.

- "Melancholic G-dur!" he said, addressing the drunkard with an imperious gesture.

And then, as if asking for forgiveness for the imperious gesture, he meekly smiled and with this smile looked around the audience. Throwing up his hair with the hand with which he held the bow. Albert stopped in front of the corner of the pianoforte and stroked the strings with a smooth movement of the bow. A clear, harmonious sound rushed through the room, and there was complete silence.

The sounds of the theme flowed freely, gracefully after the first, with some unexpectedly clear and soothing light, suddenly illuminating the inner world of each listener. Not a single false or immoderate sound disturbed the obedience of those who listened, all sounds were clear, elegant and significant. Everyone silently, with a tremor of hope, followed their development. From the state of boredom, noisy distraction and mental sleep in which these people were, they were suddenly imperceptibly transferred to a completely different world, forgotten by them. Either a feeling of quiet contemplation of the past arose in their souls, or a passionate recollection of something happy, or an unlimited need for power and brilliance, or a feeling of humility, unsatisfied love and sadness. Now sadly tender, now impetuously desperate sounds, freely mixing with each other, poured and poured one after another so gracefully, so strongly and so unconsciously that it was not the sounds that were heard, but some beautiful stream poured by itself into the soul of everyone for a long time. familiar, but for the first time spoken poetry. Albert grew higher and higher with every note. He was far from ugly or weird. Pressing the violin under his chin and listening to his sounds with an expression of passionate attention, he convulsively moved his legs. Now he straightened up to his full height, then diligently bent his back. The left, tensely bent hand, seemed to freeze in its position and only convulsively fingered with bony fingers; the right one moved smoothly, gracefully, imperceptibly. The face was taken off by continuous, enthusiastic joy; her eyes burned with a light, dry gleam, her nostrils flared, her red lips parted with pleasure.

One of the five young people, Delesov, more than others dissatisfied with himself and in the evening, went out with the intention of leaving quietly. In the next room he heard an argument, and then the door was flung open, and a strange figure appeared on the threshold. He was a man of medium height, with a narrow, arched back and long, tousled hair. He wore a short overcoat and torn tight trousers over unpolished boots. A dirty shirt protruded from the sleeves over thin arms. But, in spite of the extreme thinness of his body, his face was tender, white, and even a fresh blush played on his cheeks, above his sparse black beard and sideburns. Uncombed hair, thrown up, showed a low clean forehead. Dark tired eyes looked ahead softly, searchingly and importantly. Their expression merged with the expression of fresh, curved lips at the corners, visible from behind a sparse mustache. He paused, turned to Delesov and smiled. When a smile lit up his face, Delesov - not knowing why - smiled too.

He was told that this is a crazy musician from the theater who sometimes comes to the hostess. Delesov returned to the hall, the musician stood at the door, looking at the dancers with a smile. He was called to dance, and winking, smiling and twitching, he heavily, awkwardly went to jump around the hall. In the middle of the quadrille, he collided with an officer and fell to the floor with all his height. Almost everyone laughed in the first minute, but the musician did not get up. The guests fell silent.

Then the musician woke up and, as if frightened of something, cringed and pushed away those around him.

It's all nothing, - he suddenly said, with a visible effort, rising from his chair.

The sounds of the theme flowed freely, gracefully after the first, with some unexpectedly clear and soothing light, suddenly illuminating the inner world of each listener. From the state of boredom, fuss and spiritual sleep in which these people were, they were suddenly imperceptibly transferred to a completely different world, forgotten by them. Visions of the past, past happiness, love and sadness arose in their souls. Albert grew taller with every note. He was no longer ugly or strange. Pressing the violin under his chin and listening with passionate attention to his sounds, he convulsively moved his legs. Now he straightened up to his full height, then diligently bent his back. His face shone with ecstatic joy; eyes burned, nostrils flared, lips parted with pleasure.

Something strange happened to everyone present, and something strange was felt in the dead silence that followed Albert's game ...

However, it's time to go, gentlemen, - one guest broke the silence. - I'll have to give him something. Let's stock up.

I would drink something, - said Albert, as if waking up, when Delesov approached him. Delesov brought wine, and the musician drank it greedily.

Can you lend me some money? I am a poor person. I can't give you.

Delesov blushed, he felt embarrassed, and he hastily handed over the collected money.

Thank you very much,” said Albert, grabbing the money. - Now let's play music; I will play for you as long as you want. Just something to drink,” he added, getting up.

I would be very glad if you settled with me for a while, ”Delesov suggested.

I would not advise you, - said the hostess, shaking her head.

The next day in the morning, he again remembered the black eyes and the happy smile of the musician; the whole strange last night flashed through his mind. Passing by the dining room, Delesov looked in the door. Albert, with his face buried in a pillow and spread out, in a dirty, torn shirt, was sleeping like a dead sleep on the sofa, where he, insensible, had been laid the previous evening.

He was already falling asleep when footsteps in the hall woke him up. Zakhar came and said that Albert had returned, drunk. Zakhar had not yet managed to leave, when Albert entered the room. He said that he had been to Anna Ivanovna's and had spent the evening very pleasantly.

There was a pause. They looked at each other and smiled. Delesov felt that he loved this man more and more, and experienced incomprehensible joy.

Have you been in love? he suddenly asked.

Albert thought for a few seconds, then his face lit up with a sad smile.

Yes, I was in love. It happened a long time ago. I went to play second violin at the opera, and she went there for performances. I was silent and only looked at her; I knew that I was a poor artist, and she was an aristocratic lady. I was called once to accompany her on the violin. How happy I was! But it was my own fault, I went crazy. I didn't have to say anything to her. But I've gone crazy, I've done stupid things. Since then, everything has ended for me ... I came to the orchestra late. She sat in her box and spoke to the general. She spoke to him and looked at me. This is where it got weird for the first time. Suddenly I saw that I was not in the orchestra, but in a box, I was standing with her and holding her hand ... I was already poor even then, I did not have an apartment, and when I went to the theater, sometimes I stayed overnight there. As soon as everyone left, I went to the box where she was sitting and slept. It was my only joy... Only once it started again with me. I began to imagine at night ... I kissed her hand, talked a lot with her. I could smell her perfume, I could hear her voice. Then I took the violin and slowly began to play. And I played great. But I became afraid... It seemed to me that something had happened in my head.

Delesov silently, with horror, looked at the agitated and pale face of his interlocutor.

Let's go again to Anna Ivanovna; It’s fun there,” Albert suddenly suggested.

Delesov almost agreed at first. However, having come to his senses, he began to persuade Albert not to go. Then he ordered Zakhara not to let Albert go anywhere without his knowledge.

Two hours later Delesov looked in on Albert. Albert sat motionless by the window, his head in his hands. His face was yellow, wrinkled, and deeply unhappy. He tried to smile in greeting, but his face took on an even more rueful look. He looked like he was ready to cry, but he got up with difficulty and bowed. After that, no matter what Delesov said, suggesting that he play the violin, take a walk, go to the theater in the evening, he only bowed obediently and stubbornly remained silent. Delesov left on business. Returning, he saw that Albert was sitting in a dark hall. He was neatly dressed, washed and combed; but his eyes were dull, dead, and his whole figure expressed weakness and exhaustion, even greater than in the morning.

I spoke today about you to the director, - said Delesov, - he is very glad to receive you, if you allow yourself to be heard.

Thank you, I can’t play, - Albert said under his breath and went into his room, especially quietly closing the door behind him.

Albert every day became gloomier and more silent. He seemed to be afraid of Delesov. He did not pick up any books or violin and did not answer any questions.

On the third day of the musician's stay with him, Delesov arrived home late in the evening, tired and upset:

Step back, Zakhar, - said Delesov. “I don’t want to keep you and I can’t, but I would advise you to stay until tomorrow,” he turned to Albert.

Delesov vividly remembered the first two evenings that he spent with the musician, remembered the last sad days, and most importantly, he remembered that sweet mixed feeling of surprise, love and compassion that this strange man aroused in him at first sight; and he felt sorry for him. “And what will happen to him now? he thought. “Without money, without a warm dress, alone in the middle of the night…” He was about to send Zakhar after him, but it was too late.

It was cold outside, but Albert did not feel the cold - he was so excited by the wine he had drunk and the argument. Putting his hands into the pockets of his trousers and leaning forward, Albert walked along the street with heavy and unsteady steps. He felt extreme heaviness in his legs in his stomach, some invisible force was throwing him from side to side, but he kept walking forward in the direction of Anna Ivanovna's apartment. Strange, incoherent thoughts roamed in his head.

But another voice spoke softly from the opposite corner of the hall. “I don’t want to fall in front of him,” Albert immediately recognized Delesov’s voice. - Why is he great? Did he behave honestly? Has he benefited society? Don't we know how he borrowed money and didn't pay it back, how he took the violin from his fellow artist and pawned it? how he flattered because of the money? We don’t know how he was kicked out of the theater?

“Stop! Petrov's voice spoke again. What right do you have to accuse him? Did you live his life? (“True, true!” Albert whispered.) Art is the highest manifestation of power in man. It is given to the rare chosen ones and raises them to such a height at which the head is spinning and it is difficult to stay healthy. In art, as in any struggle, there are heroes who gave everything to their service and perished without reaching their goal. Yes, humiliate, despise him, and of all of us he is the best and happiest!

Albert, listening to these words with bliss in his soul, could not stand it, went up to his friend and wanted to kiss him.

“Get out, I don’t know you,” answered Petrov, “go your way, otherwise you won’t reach ...”

Look, you've been torn apart! You won't get there, - shouted the guard at the crossroads.