Analysis of the legend of the larre from the story of the old woman Izergil Gorky. Analysis of the legend of the larre from the story of the old woman Izergil Gorky The old woman Izergil summary author
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Have you heard that somewhere else they sang like that? Izergil asked, raising her head and smiling with her toothless mouth. Did not hear. Never heard... And you will not hear. We love to sing. Only handsome men can sing well, handsome men who love to live. We love to live. Look, aren't those who sing there tired during the day? They worked from sunrise to sunset, the moon rose, and already they sing! Those who do not know how to live would go to bed. Those to whom life is sweet, here sing. But health... I started. Health is always enough for life. Health! Wouldn't you, if you had money, spend it? Health the same gold. Do you know what I did when I was young? I wove carpets from sunrise to sunset, almost never getting up. I, like a sunbeam, was alive, and now I had to sit motionless, like a stone. And I sat until it happened that all my bones cracked. And when the night came, I ran to the one I loved, to kiss him. And so I ran for three months, while there was love; spent all the nights of that time with him. And that's how long she lived enough blood! And how much she loved! How many kisses took and gave! .. I looked into her face. Her black eyes were still dull, they were not revived by the memory. The moon illuminated her dry, chapped lips, her pointed chin with gray hair on it, and her wrinkled nose, curved like an owl's beak. There were black pits where her cheeks had been, and in one of them lay a strand of ash-gray hair that had fallen out from under the red rag that was wrapped around her head. The skin on the face, neck and arms is all wrinkled, and with every movement of the old Izergil one could expect that this dry skin would tear all over, fall apart in pieces and a naked skeleton with dull black eyes would stand before me. She began to speak again in her crackling voice: I lived with my mother near Falmi, on the very bank of the Byrlat; and I was fifteen years old when he came to our farm. He was so tall, flexible, black-moustached, cheerful. He sits in the boat and he shouts so loudly to us through the windows: “Hey, do you have any wine ... and can I eat?” I looked out the window through the branches of the ash trees and see: the river is all blue from the moon, and he, in a white shirt and a wide sash with the ends loose at the side, is standing with one foot in the boat and the other on the shore. And sways and sings something. He saw me and said: “What a beauty lives here! .. But I didn’t know about it!” As if he already knew all the beauties before me! I gave him wine and boiled pork... And four days later I gave him all of myself... We all rode with him in the boat at night. He will come and whistle softly like a gopher, and I will jump out like a fish out the window onto the river. And we’re going ... He was a fisherman from the Prut, and then, when my mother found out about everything and beat me, he persuaded me to go with him to Dobruja and further, to the Danube girls. But I didn’t like him then only sings and kisses, nothing more! It was already boring. At that time, the Hutsuls walked in a gang around those places, and they had kind people here ... So it was fun for those . Another waits, waits for her Carpathian fellow, thinks that he is already in prison or killed somewhere in a fight, and suddenly he alone, or with two or three comrades, will fall to her as if from heaven. Gifts were brought by the rich after all, it was easy for them to get everything! And he feasts with her, and boasts of her before his comrades. And she loves it. I asked a friend who had a Hutsul to show me them... What was her name? I forgot how ... I began to forget everything now. A lot of time has passed since then, you will forget everything! She introduced me to a young man. He was good ... He was red, all red and mustache and curls! Fire head. And he was so sad, sometimes affectionate, and sometimes, like a beast, he roared and fought. Once he hit me in the face ... And I, like a cat, jumped up on his chest, and dug my teeth into his cheek ... From that time on, he had a dimple in his cheek, and he loved it when I kissed her ... Where did the fisherman go? I asked. Fisherman? And he ... here ... He stuck to them, to the Hutsuls. At first he tried to persuade me and threatened to throw me into the water, and then nothing, stuck to them and brought another one ... They both hanged them together and the fisherman and this Hutsul. I went to watch them being hung. It was in Dobruja. The fisherman went to the execution pale and wept, and the Hutsul smoked his pipe. He goes to himself and smokes, hands in his pockets, one mustache rests on his shoulder, and the other hangs down on his chest. He saw me, took out his receiver and shouted: “Goodbye! ..” I felt sorry for him for a whole year. Eh! .. It was already with them then, how they wanted to go to the Carpathians to themselves. At parting, they went to visit one Romanian, and there they were caught. Only two, but a few were killed, and the rest left ... Still, the Romanian was paid after ... The farm was burned down and the mill, and all the bread. Became a beggar. Did you do that? I randomly asked. The Hutsuls had many friends, I was not the only one... Whoever was their best friend celebrated their wake... The song on the seashore had already ceased, and now only the sound of the sea waves echoed the old woman, thoughtful, rebellious noise was a glorious second story about rebellious life. The night became softer, and more and more of the moon's blue radiance was born in it, and the indefinite sounds of the bustling life of its invisible inhabitants became quieter, drowned out by the growing rustle of the waves ... for the wind increased. And then I loved the Turk. He was in the harem, in Scutari. I lived for a whole week, nothing ... But it became boring ... all women, women ... He had eight of them ... The whole day they eat, sleep and chat stupid speeches ... Or they swear, cluck like chickens ... He was no longer young, this Turk. Almost gray-haired and so important, rich. He spoke like a lord... His eyes were black... Straight eyes... They look straight into the soul. He loved to pray very much. I saw him in Bucuresti ... He walks around the market like a king, and looks so important, important. I smiled at him. That same evening I was seized on the street and brought to him. He sold sandalwood and palm trees, and came to Bucuresti to buy something. "Are you coming to me?" says. "Oh yes, I'll go!" "Good!" And I went. He was rich, this Turk. And he already had a son, a little black boy, so flexible... He was sixteen years old. It was with him that I ran away from the Turk... I ran away to Bulgaria, to Lom Palanka... There, a Bulgarian woman stabbed me in the chest for her fiancé or for her husband—I don't remember now. I was sick for a long time in a monastery alone. Convent. One girl, a Pole, looked after me ... and a brother, also a nun, went to her from the monastery of another, near Artser-Palanka, also a nun ... Such ... like a worm, everything wriggled in front of me ... And when I recovered, then I went with him ... to his Poland. Wait!.. And where is the little Turk? Boy? He's dead boy. From homesickness or from love ... but he began to dry, like a fragile tree that had too much sun ... everything dried up ... I remember, it lies, all already transparent and bluish, like an ice floe, and love still burns in him... And he keeps asking to lean over and kiss him... I loved him and, I remember, kissed him a lot... Then he became completely ill almost did not move. He lies and so plaintively, like a beggar of alms, asks me to lie next to him and warm him. I went to bed. You lie down with him ... he will immediately light up all over. Once I woke up, and he was already cold ... dead ... I cried over him. Who will say? Maybe it was me who killed him. I was twice his age then. And she was so strong, juicy ... and he what is it? .. A boy! .. She sighed and - the first time I saw it in her - crossed herself three times, whispering something with dry lips. Well, you went to Poland... I prompted her. Yes... with that little Pole. He was funny and mean. When he needed a woman, he fawned over me like a cat and hot honey flowed from his tongue, and when he didn’t want me, he snapped me with words like a whip. Once, somehow, we were walking along the river bank, and now he said a proud, insulting word to me. ABOUT! Oh!.. I got angry! I boiled like tar! I took him in my arms and, like a child, he was small, lifted him up, squeezing his sides so that he turned blue all over. And so I swung it and threw it from the bank into the river. He shouted. He screamed so funny. I looked at him from above, and he was floundering there, in the water. I left then. And I didn't see him again. I was happy about it: I never met after those whom I once loved. These are bad meetings, all the same, as if with the dead. The old woman paused, sighing. I imagined people resurrected by her. Here is a fiery-red, mustachioed Hutsul going to die, calmly smoking his pipe. He probably had cold, blue eyes that looked at everything intently and firmly. Next to him is a black-moustached fisherman from the Prut; cries, not wanting to die, and on his face, pale with death anguish, cheerful eyes have dimmed, and a mustache, moistened with tears, sadly drooped at the corners of a twisted mouth. Here he is, an old, important Turk, probably a fatalist and a despot, and next to him is his son, a pale and fragile flower of the East, poisoned by kisses. And here is the conceited Pole, gallant and cruel, eloquent and cold... And all of them are only pale shadows, and the one they kissed sits next to me alive, but withered by time, without a body, without blood, with a heart without desires. , with eyes without fire, also almost a shadow. She continued: In Poland It became difficult for me. There live cold and deceitful people. I did not know their snake language. Everyone is hissing... What are they hissing about? It was God who gave them such a snake tongue because they are deceitful. I was walking then, not knowing where, and I saw how they were going to rebel with you Russians. I reached the city of Bochnia. A Jew alone bought me; I didn't buy it for myself, but to trade me. I agreed to this. To live one must be able to do something. I didn't know how to do anything and paid for it myself. But then I thought that if I get a little money to return to my place on Byrlat, I will break the chains, no matter how strong they are. And I lived there. Rich lords came to me and feasted with me. It cost them dearly. They fought because of me, they went bankrupt. One wooed me for a long time, and once this is what he did; came, and the servant followed him with a sack. Here the pan took that bag in his hands and overturned it over my head. The gold coins hit me on the head and I enjoyed listening to them ring as they fell to the floor. But I still kicked out the pan. He had such a fat, damp face, and his belly was like a big pillow. He looked like a well-fed pig. Yes, I drove him out, although he said that he had sold all his lands, and houses, and horses, in order to shower me with gold. I then loved one worthy pan with a chopped face. His whole face was cut crosswise with the sabers of the Turks, with whom he had fought for the Greeks not long before. Here is a man!.. What are the Greeks to him if he is a Pole? And he went and fought with them against their enemies. They cut him to pieces, one of his eyes bled out from the blows, and two fingers on his left hand were also cut off ... What are the Greeks to him if he is a Pole? And here's the thing: he loved exploits. And when a person loves feats, he always knows how to do them and finds where it is possible. In life, you know, there is always a place for exploits. And those who do not find them for themselves are simply lazy or cowards, or do not understand life, because if people understood life, everyone would want to leave behind their shadow in it. And then life would not have devoured people without leaving a trace... Oh, this chopped one was a good man! He was ready to go to the ends of the earth to do anything. Yours must have killed him during the riot. And why did you go to beat the Magyars? Well, well, shut up! .. And, ordering me to be silent, old Izergil suddenly fell silent herself, thought. I also knew one Magyar. He once left me, it was in the winter, and only in the spring, when the snow melted, they found him in a field with a shot through his head. That's how! You see, the love of people destroys no less than the plague; if you count no less ... What did I say? About Poland... Yes, I played my last game there. I met a gentleman ... He was handsome! How the hell. I was already old, oh, old! Was I four decades old? Perhaps that was what happened ... And he was also proud and spoiled by us women. He became dear to me ... yes. He wanted to immediately so-so take me, but I did not give in. I have never been a slave, no one's. And I had already finished with the Jew, I gave him a lot of money ... And already I lived in Krakow. Then I had everything: horses, and gold, and servants ... He walked to me, a proud demon, and kept wanting me to throw myself into his hands. We argued with him... I even, remember, stupefied from it. It dragged on for a long time ... I took what was mine: he begged me on his knees ... But as soon as he took it, he left it. Then I realized that I had become old ... Oh, it was not sweet for me! That's not sweet! .. I loved him, this devil ... and he, meeting with me, laughed ... he was vile! And he laughed at me to others, and I knew it. Well, I was bitter, I must say! But he was here, close, and I still admired him. And as he left to fight with you Russians, I felt sick. I broke myself, but I could not break ... And I decided to go after him. He was near Warsaw, in the forest. But when I arrived, I found out that yours had already beaten them ... and that he was a prisoner, not far in the village. “So,” I thought, “I won’t see him again!” And I wanted to see. Well, she began to try to see ... She dressed as a beggar, lame, and went, tying her face, to the village where he was. Cossacks and soldiers are everywhere... it cost me dearly to be there! I found out where the Poles are sitting, and I see that it is difficult to get there. And I needed it. And at night I crawled to the place where they were. I crawl through the garden between the ridges and see: the sentry is standing on my road ... And I can already hear the Poles singing and talking loudly. They sing one song ... to the mother of God ... And he sings there ... My Arkadek. It became bitter for me, as I thought that they had crawled after me before ... but here it is, the time has come and I crawled like a snake on the ground after a man and, maybe, I’m crawling to my death. And this sentry is already listening, arched forward. Well, what about me? I got up from the ground and walked towards him. I have no knife, nothing but hands and tongue. I regret not taking a knife. I whisper: "Wait! .." And he, this soldier, has already put a bayonet to my throat. I tell him in a whisper: “Don’t if, wait, listen, if you have a soul! I can’t give you anything, but I ask you ... ”He lowered the gun and also whispers to me:“ Go away, woman! gone! What do you want?" I told him that my son was locked up here... “You understand, soldier, son! You're somebody's son too, right? So look at me I have the same one as you, and there he is! Let me see him, maybe he will die soon... and maybe you will be killed tomorrow... will your mother cry for you? And it will be hard for you to die without looking at her, your mother? It's hard for my son too. Have pity on yourself and him, and me mother! .. " Oh, how long have I been talking to him! It was raining and wet us. The wind howled and roared, and pushed me in the back, then in the chest. I stood and swayed in front of this stone soldier ... And he kept saying: “No!” And every time I heard his cold word, the desire to see that Arkadek flared up in me even hotter ... I spoke and measured the soldier’s eyes he was small, dry and coughed all the time. And so I fell on the ground in front of him and, embracing his knees, all begging him with ardent words, threw the soldier to the ground. He fell into the mud. Then I quickly turned his face to the ground and pressed his head into a puddle so that he would not scream. He did not scream, but only floundered, trying to throw me off his back. I pushed his head deeper into the dirt with both hands. He suffocated ... Then I rushed to the barn, where the Poles sang. "Arcadek!.." I whispered through the cracks in the walls. They are quick-witted, these Poles, and, having heard me, they did not stop singing! Here are his eyes against mine. "Can you get out of here?" "Yes, through the floor!" he said. "Well, go ahead." And then four of them crawled out from under this barn: three and my Arkadek. "Where are the sentries?" asked Arkadek. "Here he lies! .." And they went quietly, bent to the ground. It was raining, the wind howled loudly. We left the village and walked silently through the forest for a long time. They went so fast. Arkadek held my hand, and his hand was hot and trembling. Oh! .. I felt so good with him while he was silent. These were the last minutes good minutes of my greedy life. But then we went to the meadow and stopped. They thanked me all four. Oh, how long and hard they told me something! I listened and looked at my pan. What will he do to me? And so he hugged me and said so importantly ... I don’t remember what he said, but it turned out that now, in gratitude for the fact that I took him away, he would love me ... And he knelt before me, smiling, and said to me: "My queen!" What a deceitful dog it was!.. Well, then I gave him a kick with my foot and would have hit him in the face, but he recoiled and jumped up. Terrible and pale, he stands before me ... Those three are standing, all gloomy. And everyone is silent. I looked at them ... Then I became I remember only very bored, and such laziness attacked me ... I told them: “Go!” They, the dogs, asked me: "Are you going back there, to show our way?" That's how vile! Well, they left anyway. Then I went too... And the next day your people took me, but they soon let me go. Then I saw that it was time for me to start a nest, it would live like a cuckoo! I have become heavy, and the wings have weakened, and the feathers have faded ... It's time, it's time! Then I went to Galicia, and from there to Dobruja. And I have been living here for almost three decades. I had a husband, a Moldavian; died a year ago. And I live here! I live alone... No, not alone, but with those over there. The old woman waved her hand towards the sea. Everything was quiet there. Sometimes a short, deceptive sound was born and died immediately. They love me. I tell them a lot of things. They need it. Everyone is still young ... And I feel good with them. I look and think: “Here I am, there was a time, I was the same ... Only then, in my time, there was more strength and fire in a person, and therefore life was more fun and better ... Yes! ..” She fell silent. I felt sad next to her. She was dozing, shaking her head, and quietly whispering something ... maybe she was praying. A cloud was rising from the sea - black, heavy, severe in shape, similar to a mountain range. She crawled into the steppe. From its top shreds of clouds broke off, rushed ahead of it and extinguished the stars one by one. The sea was noisy. Not far from us, in the vines, they kissed, whispered and sighed. Deep in the steppe, a dog howled... The air irritated the nerves with a strange smell that tickled the nostrils. From the clouds thick flocks of shadows fell to the ground and crawled along it, crawled, disappeared, appeared again ... In place of the moon, only a muddy opal spot remained, sometimes it was completely covered by a gray patch of cloud. And in the distance of the steppe, now already black and terrible, as if hiding, hiding something in itself, small blue lights flashed. Here and there they appeared for a moment and went out, as if several people, scattered across the steppe far from each other, were looking for something in it, lighting matches, which the wind immediately extinguished. These were very strange blue tongues of fire, hinting at something fabulous. Do you see the sparks? Izergil asked me. Are those blue ones? pointing out to her on the steppe, I said. Blue? Yes, they are ... So, they still fly! Well, well... I don't see them anymore. I can't see much now. Where do these sparks come from? I asked the old woman. I had heard something before about the origin of these sparks, but I wanted to hear how old Izergil would tell about the same. These sparks are from the burning heart of Danko. There was a heart in the world that once burst into flames ... And these sparks from it. I'll tell you about it... Also an old fairy tale... Old, everything is old! Do you see how much there is in the old days?.. And now there is nothing like that no deeds, no people, no fairy tales such as in the old days... Why?.. Come on, tell me! You won't tell... What do you know? What do you all know, young ones? Ehe-he!.. If you looked vigilantly into the old days there you will find all the answers ... But you don’t look and you don’t know how to live because ... I don’t see life? Oh, I see everything, even though my eyes are bad! And I see that people do not live, but try everything on, try on and put their whole life on it. And when they rob themselves, having wasted time, they will begin to cry at fate. What is fate here? Everyone is his own destiny! I see all sorts of people now, but there are no strong ones! Where are they?.. And there are fewer and fewer handsome men. The old woman thought about where strong and beautiful people had gone from life, and, thinking, she looked around the dark steppe, as if looking for an answer in it. I waited for her story and was silent, afraid that if I asked her about anything, she would again be distracted. And so she began the story.III
“In the old days, only people lived on the earth, impenetrable forests surrounded the camps of these people on three sides, and on the fourth there was a steppe. They were cheerful, strong and courageous people. And then one day a difficult time came: other tribes came from somewhere and drove the former into the depths of the forest. There were swamps and darkness, because the forest was old, and its branches were so densely intertwined that it was impossible to see the sky through them, and the rays of the sun could hardly make their way to the swamps through dense foliage. But when its rays fell on the water of the swamps, the stench rose, and people died from it one after another. Then the wives and children of this tribe began to cry, and the fathers thought and fell into anguish. It was necessary to leave this forest, and for this there were two roads: one back, there were strong and evil enemies, the other forward, giant trees stood there, tightly hugging each other with mighty branches, lowering their knotty roots deep into the tenacious silt swamps. These stone trees stood silent and motionless during the day in the gray twilight and moved even more densely around people in the evenings when the fires lit up. And always, day and night, there was a ring of strong darkness around those people, it was definitely going to crush them, and they got used to the expanse of the steppe. And it was even more terrible when the wind beat on the tops of the trees and the whole forest hummed dully, as if threatening and singing a funeral song to those people. They were still strong people, and they could have gone to fight to the death with those who once defeated them, but they could not die in battles, because they had covenants, and if they died, they would be lost with them from lives and covenants. And so they sat and thought in the long nights, under the muffled noise of the forest, in the poisonous stench of the swamp. They sat, and the shadows from the fires jumped around them in a silent dance, and it seemed to everyone that these were not the shadows dancing, but the evil spirits of the forest and the swamp were triumphant ... People sat and thought. But nothing, neither work nor women, exhaust the bodies and souls of people as exhausting dreary thoughts. And people weakened from thoughts ... Fear was born among them, fettered their strong hands, horror gave birth to women crying over the corpses of those who died from the stench and over the fate of the living, chained by fear, and cowardly words began to be heard in the forest, at first timid and quiet, and then Louder and louder... They already wanted to go to the enemy and give him their will as a gift, and no one, frightened by death, was afraid of a slave life... But then Danko appeared and saved everyone alone. The old woman, obviously, often talked about Danko's burning heart. She spoke in a melodious voice, and her voice, creaky and muffled, clearly pictured before me the noise of the forest, among which the unfortunate, driven people were dying from the poisonous breath of the swamp ... “Danko is one of those people, a handsome young man. Beautiful always bold. And so he says to them, his comrades: Do not turn a stone from the path of thought. Whoever does nothing, nothing will happen to him. Why do we waste energy on thought and longing? Get up, let's go to the forest and go through it, because it has an end everything in the world has an end! Come on! Well! Hey!.. They looked at him and saw that he was the best of all, because in his eyes a lot of strength and living fire shone. Lead us! they said. Then he took…” The old woman paused and looked out into the steppe, where darkness was thickening. The sparks of Danko's burning heart flashed somewhere far away and seemed like blue airy flowers, blooming only for a moment. “Danko led them. All together they followed him they believed in him. It has been a difficult journey! It was dark, and at every step the swamp opened its greedy rotten mouth, swallowing people, and the trees blocked the road like a mighty wall. Their branches intertwined with each other; like snakes, roots stretched everywhere, and each step cost a lot of sweat and blood to those people. They walked for a long time ... The forest became thicker, there was less and less strength! And so they began to grumble at Danko, saying that in vain he, young and inexperienced, led them somewhere. And he walked ahead of them and was cheerful and clear. But one day a thunderstorm struck over the forest, the trees whispered muffledly, menacingly. And then it became so dark in the forest, as if all the nights had gathered in it at once, how many there had been in the world since the time he was born. Little people walked among the big trees and in the terrible noise of lightning, they walked, and, swaying, the giant trees creaked and hummed angry songs, and the lightning, flying over the tops of the forest, illuminated it for a minute with a blue, cold fire and disappeared just as quickly, as they appeared, scaring people. And the trees, illuminated by the cold fire of lightning, seemed to be alive, stretching around the people who were leaving the captivity of darkness, clumsy, long arms, weaving them into a dense net, trying to stop people. And from the darkness of the branches, something terrible, dark and cold looked at the walking ones. It was a difficult journey, and the people, weary of it, lost heart. But they were ashamed to admit their impotence, and so they fell in anger and anger on Danko, the man who was walking ahead of them. And they began to reproach him for his inability to manage them, that's how! They stopped and under the triumphant noise of the forest, among the trembling darkness, tired and angry, began to judge Danko. You, they said, are an insignificant and harmful person to us! You led us and tired us, and for this you will perish! You said: “Lead!” and I led! Danko shouted, standing against them with his chest. I have the courage to lead, that's why I led you! And you? What have you done to help yourself? You just walked and did not know how to save strength for a longer path! You just walked, walked like a flock of sheep! But these words infuriated them even more. You will die! You will die! they roared. And the forest hummed and hummed, echoing their cries, and lightning tore the darkness to shreds. Danko looked at those for whom he had toiled, and saw that they were like animals. Many people stood around him, but their nobility was not on their faces, and he could not expect mercy from them. Then indignation boiled up in his heart, but it went out of pity for people. He loved people and thought that maybe without him they would perish. And then his heart flared up with the fire of desire to save them, to lead them to an easy path, and then the rays of that mighty fire flashed in his eyes ... And they, seeing this, thought that he was furious, which is why his eyes flared up so brightly, and they became alert , like wolves, waiting for him to fight them, and began to surround him more densely, so that it would be easier for them to grab and kill Danko. And he already understood their thought, because of which his heart burned even brighter, for this thought of theirs gave birth to melancholy in him. And the forest kept singing its gloomy song, and the thunder rumbled, and the rain poured down... What will I do for people?! Danko shouted louder than thunder. And suddenly he tore his chest with his hands and tore out his heart from it and raised it high above his head. It burned as brightly as the sun, and brighter than the sun, and the whole forest fell silent, illuminated by this torch of great love for people, and the darkness scattered from its light and there, deep in the forest, trembling, fell into the rotten mouth of the swamp. The people, amazed, became like stones. Let's go! shouted Danko and rushed forward to his place, holding his burning heart high and lighting the way for people with it. They rushed after him, fascinated. Then the forest rustled again, shaking its peaks in surprise, but its noise was drowned out by the clatter of running people. Everyone ran quickly and boldly, carried away by the wonderful sight of a burning heart. And now they were dying, but they were dying without complaints and tears. But Danko was still ahead, and his heart was burning, burning! And then suddenly the forest parted before him, parted and remained behind, dense and dumb, and Danko and all those people immediately plunged into a sea of sunlight and clean air, washed by rain. There was a thunderstorm there, behind them, over the forest, and here the sun was shining, the steppe was sighing, the grass was shining in the rain diamonds and the river was sparkling with gold... from Danko's torn chest. The proud daredevil Danko cast a glance ahead of himself on the expanse of the steppe, he threw a joyful glance at the free land and laughed proudly. And then he fell and died. People, joyful and full of hope, did not notice his death and did not see that his brave heart was still burning next to the corpse of Danko. Only one cautious person noticed this and, fearing something, stepped on the proud heart with his foot ... And now it, crumbling into sparks, died out ... " That's where they come from, the blue sparks of the steppe that appear before a thunderstorm! Now, when the old woman finished her beautiful fairy tale, it became terribly quiet in the steppe, as if she was also struck by the strength of the daredevil Danko, who burned his heart for people and died without asking them for anything in return for himself. The old woman was dozing. I looked at her and thought: “How many more fairy tales and memories are left in her memory?” And I thought about the great burning heart of Danko and about the human fantasy that created so many beautiful and powerful legends. The wind blew and exposed from under the rags the dry chest of the old woman Izergil, who fell asleep more and more soundly. I covered her old body and myself lay down on the ground beside her. The steppe was quiet and dark. Clouds kept creeping across the sky, slowly, dully... The sea was muffled and mournful.Average rating: 3.5
The story "Old Woman Izergil" refers to the early romantic works of A.M. Gorky. In form, this work represents three short stories connected by a common idea, or rather by the question: what does a person live for?
Gorky begins an attempt to answer this question with the legend of Larra, the son of a woman and an eagle. The mother brought a handsome and strong young man to the people in the hope that he would live happily among his own kind. Larra was the same as everyone else, "only his eyes were cold and proud, like those of the king of birds." Gradually, the author, using the words of an old storyteller, paints a portrait of an arrogant egoist and a proud man with an exorbitant craving for personal freedom.
Larra was sure that he, the son of an eagle, was higher than other people and everything was permitted to him: “... they talked to him, and he answered if he wanted, or was silent, and when the oldest tribes came, he spoke to them as equals yourself. It offended them..." Larra's selfishness and cruelty are fully revealed in the episode when he does not hesitate to kill a girl who does not want to be with him. “She pushed him away, and went away, and he hit her and, when she fell, stood with his foot on her chest, so that blood splashed from her mouth to the sky, the girl, sighing, wriggled like a snake and died.” Killing the "obstinate" girl in front of the whole tribe, Larra believes that everything is allowed to him, the son of an eagle, and no one and nothing can limit his personal freedom. The angry people of the tribe did not debunk his delusions, deciding that: “The punishment for him is in himself!”. They released Larra, gave him freedom, complete and limitless, but outside of human society. This sentence turned out to be so severe that Larra eventually became weary of priceless gifts - freedom and immortality. By his behavior, he doomed himself to eternal torment, and when Larra wanted to die, even the earth did not accept him: “... he fell to the ground and beat his head against it for a long time. But the earth moved away from him.
Telling the legend of Larra, Gorky leads readers to the idea that individualism and selfishness will lead to a dead end on the path of life. Larra had both strength, and beauty, and courage, but he repelled him with pride and coldness. He did not respect anyone, did not listen to anyone, behaved arrogantly and proudly, lived for himself and for his own sake. The price of such an attitude towards people is loneliness, which has become a cross for Larra, from which there is no escape.
See also: Video lesson on the story of M. Gorky "Old Woman Izergil".
"Many thousands of years have passed since the time when this happened. Far beyond the sea, at sunrise, there is a country of a large river, in that country every tree leaf and stalk of grass gives as much shade as a person needs to hide in it from the sun, cruelly hot there. What a generous land in that country!
A powerful tribe of people lived there, they grazed herds and spent their strength and courage on hunting for animals, feasted after the hunt, sang songs and played with girls.
Once, during a feast, one of them, black-haired and tender as night, was carried away by an eagle descending from the sky. The arrows fired at him by the men fell miserably back to the ground. Then they went to look for the girl, but they did not find her. And they forgot about it, as they forget about everything on earth.
But twenty years later, she herself came, exhausted, withered, and with her was a young man, handsome and strong, as she herself was twenty years ago. And when they asked her where she was, she said that the eagle carried her to the mountains and lived with her there as with his wife. Here is his son, and his father is no longer there, when he began to weaken, he rose for the last time high into the sky and, folding his wings, fell heavily from there onto the sharp ledges of the mountain, crashed to death on them ...
Everyone looked with surprise at the son of an eagle and saw that he was no better than them, only his eyes were cold and proud, like those of the king of birds. And they talked to him, and he answered if he wanted, or was silent, and when the oldest tribes came, he spoke to them as to his equals. This offended them, and they, calling him an unfinished arrow with an unsharpened tip, told him that they were honored, they were obeyed by thousands of his kind, and thousands twice his age.
And he, boldly looking at them, answered that there were no others like him; and if everyone honors them, he does not want to do this. Oh! .. then they were completely angry. They got angry and said:
He has no place among us! Let him go where he wants.
He laughed and went where he pleased - to one beautiful girl who was staring at him intently; He went to her and went up to her and hugged her. And she was the daughter of one of the elders who condemned him. And although he was handsome, she pushed him away because she was afraid of her father. She pushed him away, and went away, and he hit her and, when she fell, stood with his foot on her chest, so that blood splashed from her mouth to the sky, the girl, sighing, wriggled like a snake and died.
Everyone who saw this was shackled with fear - for the first time in their presence a woman was killed like that. And for a long time everyone was silent, looking at her, lying with open eyes and a bloody mouth, and at him, who stood alone against everyone, next to her, and was proud, did not lower his head, as if calling punishment on her. Then, when they came to their senses, they grabbed him, tied him up and left him like that, finding that killing him right now was too easy and would not satisfy them.
And so they gathered to come up with an execution worthy of a crime ... They wanted to tear it apart with horses - and this seemed not enough to them; they thought of shooting everyone with an arrow at him, but they also rejected this; they offered to burn him, but the smoke of the fire would not allow him to see his torment; offered a lot - and did not find anything good enough to please everyone. And his mother knelt before them and was silent, finding neither tears nor words to beg for mercy. They talked for a long time, and then one wise man said, after thinking for a long time:
Let's ask him why he did it?
They asked him about it. He said:
Untie me! I won't say bound!
And when they untied him, he asked:
What you need? - He asked as if they were slaves ...
You heard... - said the sage.
Why should I explain my actions to you?
To be understood by us. You, proud, listen! You're going to die anyway... Let us understand what you've done. We remain alive, and it is useful for us to know more than we know ...
Okay, I'll tell you, although I may be misunderstanding what happened myself. I killed her because, it seems to me, she pushed me away ... And I needed her.
But she's not yours! they told him.
Do you only use yours? I see that each person has only speech, hands and feet... and he owns animals, women, land... and much more...
He was told that for everything that a person takes, he pays with himself: with his mind and strength, sometimes with his life. And he replied that he wanted to keep himself whole.
We talked with him for a long time and finally saw that he considers himself the first on earth and sees nothing but himself. Everyone even became scared when they realized what kind of loneliness he doomed himself to. He had no tribe, no mother, no livestock, no wife, and he didn't want any of that.
When people saw this, they again began to judge how to punish him. But now they did not speak for long, - he, the wise one, who did not interfere with their judgment, spoke himself:
Stop! There is a punishment. This is a terrible punishment; you won't invent something like that in a thousand years! His punishment is in himself! Let him go, let him be free. Here is his punishment!
And then something great happened. Thunder struck from the heavens, although there were no clouds on them. It was the powers of heaven that confirmed the speech of the wise. Everyone bowed and dispersed. And this young man, who now received the name Larra, which means: outcast, thrown out, - the young man laughed loudly after the people who abandoned him, laughed, remaining alone, free, like his father. But his father was not a man... But this one was a man.
And so he began to live, free as a bird. He came to the tribe and stole cattle, girls - whatever he wanted. They shot at him, but the arrows could not pierce his body, covered with an invisible cover of the highest punishment. He was agile, predatory, strong, cruel and did not meet people face to face. Only saw him from a distance. And for a long time he, alone, so curled around people, for a long time - more than a dozen years.
But one day he came close to people and when they rushed at him, he did not budge and did not show in any way that he would defend himself. Then one of the people guessed and shouted loudly:
Don't touch him! He wants to die!
And everyone stopped, not wanting to alleviate the fate of the one who did evil to them, not wanting to kill him. They stopped and laughed at him. And he trembled, hearing this laughter, and kept looking for something on his chest, clutching at it with his hands. And suddenly he rushed at the people, lifting a stone. But they, evading his blows, did not inflict a single one on him, and when he, tired, with a sad cry, fell to the ground, they stepped aside and watched him.
So he stood up and, raising a knife lost by someone in the fight against him, hit himself in the chest with it. But the knife broke - they hit it like a stone. And again he fell to the ground and beat his head against it for a long time. But the ground pulled away from him, deepening from the blows of his head.
And they left, leaving him. - He can't die! people said happily.
He lay face up and saw: high in the sky, mighty eagles swam like black dots. There was so much longing in his eyes that one could poison all the people of the world with it. So, from that time on, he was left alone, free, waiting for death.
And now he walks, walks everywhere ... You see, he has already become like a shadow and will be like that forever!
He understands neither the speech of people, nor their actions - nothing. And everyone is looking, walking, walking ...
He has no life, and death does not smile on him. And he has no place among people ...
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All the stories transmitted in this story, the writer heard in Bessarabia from an old woman named Izergil. They were sitting on the seashore, it was getting dark, and shadows were running across the land. The old woman said that this was the shadow of Larra, and when asked by the writer who Larra was, she told a story about a proud young man who paid for his pride.
Once an eagle stole a girl from a very rich and powerful tribe. The girl was searched, but could not be found. After 20 years, she herself returned to her fellow tribesmen. But she did not return alone - with her was a young man of about 20, very handsome, brave and strong. She said it was her son. In appearance, he was exactly the same as any of the people around them, but his gaze was not at all human - cold, direct and proud.
The young man himself considered himself not at all an ordinary person, and spoke down even with the oldest and most respected people in the tribe. For this, people were angry with him and expelled from the tribe. But it didn't upset him at all. He laughed in the faces of the people, went up to the girl from the tribe and hugged her. She pushed him away, and then, angry, he killed her. People grabbed him, tied him up, but then they realized that it was not worth killing him, because he was not afraid of death, and such a death would be too easy for him. And people decided that the best punishment for a person who considers himself above everyone else will be expulsion from the world of people and complete loneliness. And so they did. Larra (which means “outcast” in translation) began to live alone, from time to time stealing cattle and girls from people. But one day people saw Larra - he came close to them and waited for their actions. The hottest rushed to him to hit him, but stopped - he stood in front of them and did not even think of defending himself. Moreover, he took out a knife and hit himself with it, but the knife did not even stick into his body. People understood that he was dreaming of death - and did not touch him. Since then, the shadow of Larra has been wandering among people, but he still cannot wait for death - this is how a person was punished for his pride.
At this time, the writer heard a beautiful song. The old woman asked him if he had ever heard them sing so beautifully. She said that only beautiful girls who love life can sing like that. And she told the writer about her youth. Once upon a time she was beautiful and loved life very much. She fell in love for the first time when she was 15 years old. But her feeling did not last long - she soon fell in love with another person. But even with him she did not know complete happiness - he was caught when he went to visit a Romanian, and hanged. And soon the house of this Romanian burned down, and the writer realized that it was Izergil who avenged her love. Then she fell in love with the Turk, and even was in his harem, but ran away from there with his son. Then she had a strong feeling for other men, and when she was 40 years old, she came to Moldova, and she stayed there, and has been living for more than 30 years. She was married, but her husband died a year ago.
With the onset of night, Izergil showed her interlocutor to the sparks burning in the steppe, and said that these were sparks from the heart of Danko, who gave his life for people.
Once a tribe lived in the forest. The conquerors came and drove the tribe from their homes to the swamps. The air in the swamps was heavy, and soon people from the tribe began to die. They were ready to accept their fate and go to surrender to the mercy of the conquerors, when Danko appeared among them and offered them to lead them out of the forest. They saw that he was the best of them and agreed to follow him. But the path was very difficult, and people were completely exhausted. But they did not want to admit their weakness, so they accused Danko of not knowing where he was leading them. They began to surround him in order to kill him, and Danko suddenly felt in his heart a passionate desire to save these people, and realized that they themselves would not be able to find the right path. He tore open his chest and took out a flaming heart from his chest, raised it above his head and it illuminated the entire forest. The amazed people rushed after Danko, and suddenly the forest ended - they stood on the edge of the shining steppe. People rejoiced, and Danko fell to the ground and died. Someone too cautious approached Danko's still burning heart and stepped on it with his foot - the flame crumbled into small sparks, and since then such sparks have appeared in the steppe on the eve of a strong thunderstorm. Having finished the story, the old woman fell asleep.
Gorky's story "Old Woman Izergil" has 3 chapters. We suggest you read the summary of each of them.
Chapter 1
The author heard the stories that will be discussed in Bessarabia. When the work was completed, the Moldavians went to the seashore, and the author stayed with the old woman Izergil. The shadows of the clouds floated across the steppe. Izergil said it was Larra. The author became curious about who it was, and the old woman told him the following legend.
In one beautiful rich country across the sea lived a tribe of people. These mighty people hunted, grazed herds. During one of the feasts, the eagle took the girl. The whole tribe searched for her, but they could not find her, and they forgot about her. After 20 years, the girl returned. She was withered and exhausted. The woman brought with her a strong and handsome young man and announced that she was the wife of an eagle, and this guy was her son. The girl's husband, an eagle, has grown old. When he weakened, he threw himself from a height onto the rocks and died, and the woman returned to the tribe.
The young man's eyes looked proud and cold. He spoke with the elders on an equal footing, did not want to honor them, because he is the only one of his kind, there are no others like him. The tribe replied that he did not belong among them, let him go away. The young man embraced a beautiful girl, the daughter of one of the elders. She pushed him away, because she was afraid of her father's wrath. Then the eagle's son hit her. She fell, the young man stood on her chest, and she died. It was the first time a woman had been killed in public. The young man looked at the assembled proudly. They tied him up and began to think what to do with him. When asked about the reason for such an act, the young man said that the girl pushed him away, and he needed her. Everyone understood how selfish he was, and they became afraid for the young man, because he dooms himself to loneliness. The sage said that punishment is not needed, it is in himself. We decided to let him go.
The young man received the name Larra, which means outcast. He was free and alone, like an eagle, his father. The young man lived alone, laughed at people, stole their cattle and everything he needed. They shot at him, but the arrows did not pierce Larra. For a long time the young man lived alone near people. And then one day he came to them and did not defend himself when they rushed at him. People guessed that he decided to die, and did not kill him, so as not to alleviate the fate of the outcast. Larra hit his head on the ground to die, but he couldn't kill himself. Since then, the son of an eagle has roamed the earth. He became like a shadow. So the man was punished for his pride.
Chapter 2
The old woman Izergil, hearing the singing, asked the author if he had ever heard people sing like that. Only beautiful, life-loving people can sing so well. She began to remember her youth.
Izergil in her youth spent all day weaving carpets. And after work, she went to her beloved. When she was 15, Izergil fell in love with a fisherman, and they spent all the nights together. However, the fisherman soon got tired of her, as he only kissed and sang. Then Izergil met one freedom-loving Hutsul, affectionate and sad, who sometimes fought. Once he hit her, and Izergil bit him on the cheek. There was a dimple, and the Hutsul loved it when she kissed him in this place. The Hutsul and the fisherman, who after some time joined the Hutsuls, were hanged together. They were betrayed by the Romanians, to whom they went to visit. At the Romanian, after the execution, someone burned the mill. Perhaps it was Izergil, although the old woman said that many people did not like the Romanian.
The old woman also remembered the Turk whom she had once loved. He saw Izergil in the market and decided to take her into the harem. Izergil became bored with him, and she fled to Bulgaria with the son of this Turk. He was just a child, and soon withered away.
One Bulgarian woman, avenging her husband or fiancé, wounded her in the chest, and a Polish nun came out of her. Izergil fled from her together with the nun's brother, also a monk. He often offended her. Once, during another quarrel, she grabbed him and threw him into the river.
It was difficult for Izergil in Poland, because cold people lived there. In Bohnia, Izergil bought a Jew who wanted to trade it. She agreed. Rich people went to her, many even went bankrupt because of her. One rich pan sold all his property in order to shower Izergil with gold. But she didn't like him. At this time, she loved another pan who fought against the Turks. He had a cut face. Pan fought for the Greeks simply because of the love of exploits. Probably, this pan was killed during the Polish revolt. Izergil also loved the Magyar, whose body was later found in the field. Someone shot him in the head.
Izergil managed to redeem herself from a Jew, after which she lived in Krakow. Here she liked the young gentry. He wanted her to give herself to him. However, Izergil made it so that the gentry fell in love with her and began to seek her himself. When he succeeded, he immediately abandoned her, and Izergil realized that she had become old. She went for this gentry, who went to fight the Russians. She was told that he had been taken prisoner. Izergil really wanted to see him, so she decided to go to the village where he was. Dressed as a beggar. For a long time, Izergil persuaded the sentry to let her see her son. However, he did not give in, and she had to strangle him. She freed the gentry and three of his friends. He warmly thanked her, but Izergil did not want the love that comes from gratitude, and she pushed the gentry away.
Izergil realized that it was time to have her own house, and went to Galicia, and then to Dobruja, where she lived for 30 years. Her husband, a Moldavian, has already passed away, and she lives alone.
At the end of the second chapter of the story "Izergil" by Gorky, it is said that the old woman noticed blue lights that flashed in the steppe. She told the author that these lights are the sparks of Danko's burning heart. It will be discussed in the next chapter.
Chapter 3
In ancient times, brave and cheerful people lived. Impenetrable forests surrounded these people on three sides, and on the fourth - the steppe. But then tribes appeared, forcing people to go deep into the forest. Darkness and swamps surrounded them. Enemies did not let them out of the forest. People were afraid to go further into the forest, because they did not know what was there and how big the forest was. They did not want to die in battle, because in this case their covenants would die with them. And they decided to stay in the depths of the forest. Sad thoughts exhausted them and made them weak, cowardly. But Danko saved everyone.
He was a young, brave and handsome young man. He led the people through the forest, because he knew that everything in the world has an end. And they trusted him.
The path was not easy, it took a long time to go. The forest became thicker and thicker, and there was less and less strength left. Discontent began among the people. Only Danko, who walked ahead, remained alert.
One day a thunderstorm started. People were completely exhausted and lost heart, but they were ashamed of their impotence, so they attacked Danko with anger and anger, reproaching him for not being able to control them. He replied that they themselves followed him, like a flock of sheep, and did not save their strength for a long journey. People got angry and decided to kill their leader.
Danko loved people, and the young man's heart flared up with a desire to save them. People thought that the fire in Danko's eyes was rage, and strengthened their desire to kill him. Then the young man took out his heart from his chest and raised it above his head. Danko's heart burned like the sun. Lighting their way, he led the people on. Finally, the forest parted, and people found themselves in the steppe. Danko laughed proudly, and then fell and died. However, people were absorbed in their joy and did not notice the death of the one who showed them the way. One cautious person saw that Danko's heart was still on fire, and stepped on him with his foot. As it crumbled, it faded away.
Izergil dozed off. It was quiet and dark in the steppe.