Text of the book “About Love”
About love
The next day, very tasty pies, crayfish and lamb cutlets were served for breakfast; and while they were eating, cook Nikanor came upstairs to inquire what the guests wanted for dinner. He was a man of average height, with a plump face and small eyes, shaven, and it seemed that his mustache was not shaved, but plucked.
Alekhine said that the beautiful Pelageya was in love with this cook. Since he was a drunkard and had a violent temper, she did not want to marry him, but agreed to live like that. He was very pious, and his religious beliefs did not allow him to live like that; he demanded that she marry him, and would not have it any other way, and scolded her when he was drunk, and even beat her. When he was drunk, she hid upstairs and sobbed, and then Alekhine and the servants did not leave the house to protect her if necessary.
They started talking about love.
“How does love arise,” said Alekhine, “why didn’t Pelageya fall in love with someone else, more suitable to her in terms of her spiritual and external qualities, but fell in love with Nikanor, this mug - here we all call him a mug - because in For love, questions of personal happiness are important - all this is unknown and all this can be interpreted in any way you like. Until now, only one undeniable truth has been said about love, namely, that “this mystery is great,” but everything else that was written and said about love was not a solution, but only a statement of questions that remained unresolved. The explanation that seems to be suitable for one case is no longer suitable for ten others, and the best thing, in my opinion, is to explain each case separately, without trying to generalize. It is necessary, as doctors say, to individualize each individual case.
“That’s absolutely true,” Burkin agreed.
– We, decent Russian people, have a passion for these questions that remain without resolution. Usually love is poeticized, decorated with roses and nightingales, but we Russians decorate our love with these fatal questions, and, moreover, we choose the most uninteresting of them. In Moscow, when I was still a student, I had a lifelong friend, a dear lady, who, every time I held her in my arms, thought about how much I would give her a month and how much beef was now for a pound. Likewise, when we love, we never stop asking ourselves questions: is it fair or not, smart or stupid, where will this love lead, and so on. Whether this is good or not, I don’t know, but that it interferes, does not satisfy, irritates – I know that.
It looked like he wanted to tell me something. People who live alone always have something on their minds that they would be willing to tell. In the city, bachelors deliberately go to the bathhouse and restaurants just to talk, and sometimes tell the bathhouse attendants or waiters very interesting stories, but in the village they usually pour out their souls to their guests. Now through the windows one could see the gray sky and trees wet from the rain; in such weather there was nowhere to go and there was nothing left to do but talk and listen.
“I live in Sofyino and have been farming for a long time,” began Alekhine, “since I graduated from the university.” By upbringing I am a white-handed person, by inclination I am an armchair person, but when I came here there was a big debt on the estate, and since my father was in debt partly because he spent a lot on my education, I decided that I would not leave here and would work until I pay off this debt. I decided so and began to work here, I admit, not without some disgust. The local land produces little, and in order for agriculture to not be at a loss, you need to use the labor of serfs or hired farm laborers, which is almost the same thing, or run your farm in a peasant way, that is, work in the field yourself, with your family. There is no middle ground here. But I didn’t go into such subtleties then. I did not leave a single piece of land alone, I drove all the men and women from the neighboring villages, my work here was in full swing; I myself also plowed, sowed, mowed, and at the same time I was bored and winced with disgust, like a village cat who, out of hunger, eats cucumbers in the garden; my body ached, and I slept while walking. At first it seemed to me that I could easily reconcile this working life with my cultural habits; To achieve this, I thought, all I had to do was adhere to a certain external order in life. I settled here upstairs, in the state rooms, and arranged it so that after breakfast and lunch I was served coffee with liqueurs and, when I went to bed, I read the “Bulletin of Europe” at night. But one day our father, Father Ivan, came and drank all my liqueurs in one sitting; and “Vestnik Evropy” also went to the priests, because in the summer, especially during mowing, I did not have time to get to my bed and fell asleep in the barn in a sleigh or somewhere in a forest guardhouse - what kind of reading is that? Little by little I moved downstairs, began to dine in the people's kitchen, and of my former luxury the only thing left was all these servants who were still serving my father and whom it would have been painful for me to dismiss.
In the very first years I was elected here to be an honorary justice of the peace. Sometimes I had to go to the city and take part in meetings of the congress and the district court, and this entertained me. When you live here continuously for two or three months, especially in winter, you eventually begin to yearn for a black frock coat. And in the district court there were frock coats, uniforms, and tailcoats, all lawyers, people who had received a general education; there was someone to talk to. After sleeping in a sleigh, after a human kitchen, sitting in a chair, in clean linen, in light boots, with a chain on your chest - this is such a luxury!
In the city I was received cordially, I eagerly made acquaintances. And of all the acquaintances, the most thorough and, to tell the truth, the most pleasant for me was the acquaintance with Luganovich, a friend of the chairman of the district court. You both know him: the sweetest person. This was just after the famous arsonist affair; the trial lasted two days, we were tired, Luganovich looked at me and said:
- You know what? Let's go to my place for lunch.
This was unexpected, since I knew Luganovich little, only officially, and had never visited him. I just went to my room for a minute to change clothes and then went to lunch. And then I had the opportunity to meet Anna Alekseevna, Luganovich’s wife. She was still very young then, no more than twenty-two years old, and six months before her first child was born. That’s a thing of the past, and now it would be difficult for me to determine what, in fact, was so extraordinary about her that I liked it so much about her, but then at dinner everything was irresistibly clear to me; I saw a young, beautiful, kind, intelligent, charming woman, a woman I had never met before; and immediately I felt in her a close, already familiar being, as if I had seen this face, these friendly, intelligent eyes once in childhood, in an album that lay on my mother’s chest of drawers.
Four Jews were accused in the arsonist case, they recognized it as a gang and, in my opinion, it was completely unfounded. At dinner I was very worried, it was hard for me, and I don’t remember what I said, only Anna Alekseevna kept shaking her head and saying to her husband:
- Dmitry, how is this so?
Luganovich is a good-natured person, one of those simple-minded people who firmly hold the opinion that since a person has been put on trial, that means he is guilty, and that doubt about the correctness of the verdict can only be expressed legally, on paper, but not at dinner or in a private conversation.
“You and I didn’t set fire,” he said softly, “and we’re not being tried or put in prison.”
And both husband and wife tried to make me eat and drink more; from some little things, for example, from the way they both made coffee together, and from the way they understood each other perfectly, I could conclude that they lived peacefully, prosperously and that they were glad to have a guest. After dinner we played the piano four hands, then it got dark and I went home. It was at the beginning of spring. Then I spent the whole summer in Sofyino without a break, and I had no time to even think about the city, but the memory of the slender, fair-haired woman remained with me all my days; I didn’t think about her, but as if her light shadow lay on my soul.
In late autumn there was a performance in the city for a charitable purpose. I entered the governor's box (I was invited there during intermission), I looked - next to the governor's wife was Anna Alekseevna, and again the same irresistible, overwhelming impression of beauty and sweet, affectionate eyes, and again the same feeling of closeness.
We sat next to each other, then walked into the foyer.
“You’ve lost weight,” she said. – Were you sick?
- Yes. I have a cold in my shoulder, and in rainy weather I sleep poorly.
-You look lethargic. Then in the spring, when you came to dinner, you were younger, more cheerful. You were inspired then and talked a lot, were very interesting, and, I admit, I even became a little carried away by you. For some reason, you often came to my mind during the summer, and today, when I was getting ready to go to the theater, it seemed to me that I would see you.
And she laughed.
“But today you look lethargic,” she repeated. - It ages you.
The next day I had breakfast at the Luganoviches; after breakfast they went to their dacha to make arrangements for the winter there, and I went with them. He returned to the city with them and drank tea with them at midnight in a quiet, family atmosphere, when the fireplace was burning and the young mother kept going out to see if her girl was sleeping. And after that, on every visit, I certainly visited the Luganoviches. They got used to me, and I got used to it. I usually entered without a report, as if I were one of my own.
- Who's there? – a drawn-out voice was heard from the distant rooms, which seemed so beautiful to me.
“This is Pavel Konstantinich,” answered the maid or nanny.
Anna Alekseevna came out to me with a concerned face and asked every time:
- Why were you gone for so long? Did anything happen?
Her look, the graceful, noble hand that she gave me, her home dress, hairstyle, voice, steps each time made on me the same impression of something new, unusual and important in my life. We talked for a long time and were silent for a long time, each thinking about his own, or she played the piano for me. If no one was at home, then I stayed and waited, talked with the nanny, played with the child, or in the office I lay on the Turkish sofa and read the newspaper, and when Anna Alekseevna returned, I met her in the hall, took everything from her purchases, and for some reason every time I carried these purchases with such love, with such triumph, like a boy.
There is a proverb: the woman had no troubles, so she bought a pig. The Luganovichs had no trouble, so they became friends with me. If I didn't come to town for a long time, it meant I was sick or something had happened to me, and they were both very worried. They were worried that I, an educated person who knew languages, instead of doing science or literary work, lived in the village, spinning like a squirrel in a wheel, working a lot, but always penniless. It seemed to them that I was suffering, and if I spoke, laughed, or ate, it was only to hide my suffering, and even in cheerful moments, when I felt good, I felt their inquisitive glances on me. They were especially touching when I really had a hard time, when I was oppressed by some creditor or did not have enough money for an urgent payment; both husband and wife were whispering at the window, then he came up to me and said with a serious face:
“If you, Pavel Konstantinich, currently need money, then my wife and I ask you not to be shy and take it from us.”
And his ears turned red with excitement. And it happened that in exactly the same way, after whispering at the window, he would come up to me, with red ears, and say:
“My wife and I kindly ask you to accept this gift from us.”
And he handed over cufflinks, a cigarette case or a lamp; and for this I sent them a beaten bird, butter and flowers from the village. By the way, both of them were wealthy people. At first, I often borrowed and was not particularly picky; I took it wherever possible, but no force would force me to borrow from the Luganoviches. What can we say about this!
I was unhappy. And at home, and in the field, and in the barn, I thought about her, I tried to understand the secret of a young, beautiful, intelligent woman who marries an uninteresting man, almost an old man (her husband was over forty years old), has children from him - to understand the secret of this uninteresting man, a good-natured, simpleton, who argues with such boring common sense, at balls and parties sticks around respectable people, listless, unnecessary, with a submissive, indifferent expression, as if he had been brought here to sell, who, however, believes in his right to be happy to have children from her; and I kept trying to understand why it was he who met her, and not me, and why it was necessary for such a terrible mistake to happen in our lives.
And when I arrived in the city, I always saw in her eyes that she was waiting for me; and she herself admitted to me that in the morning she had some special feeling, she guessed that I would come. We talked for a long time, were silent, but we did not admit our love to each other and hid it timidly and jealously. We were afraid of everything that might reveal our secret to ourselves. I loved tenderly, deeply, but I reasoned, I asked myself where our love could lead if we did not have the strength to fight it; It seemed incredible to me that this quiet, sad love of mine would suddenly rudely end the happy course of life of her husband, children, this entire house, where they loved me so much and where they trusted me so much. Is this fair? She would follow me, but where? Where could I take her? It would be another matter if I had a beautiful, interesting life, if, for example, I fought for the liberation of my homeland or was a famous scientist, artist, painter, otherwise I would have to carry her away from one ordinary, everyday environment into another similar or even more everyday. And how long would our happiness last? What would happen to her in the event of my illness, death, or simply if we stopped loving each other?
And she, apparently, reasoned in a similar way. She thought about her husband, about her children, about her mother, who loved her husband like a son. If she surrendered to her feelings, she would have to lie or tell the truth, and in her position, both would be equally scary and uncomfortable. And she was tormented by the question: will her love bring me happiness, will it not complicate my life, which is already difficult, full of all sorts of misfortunes? It seemed to her that she was no longer young enough for me, not hardworking and energetic enough to start a new life, and she often talked to her husband about how I needed to marry an intelligent, worthy girl who would be a good housewife, helper - and she immediately added that there was hardly such a girl in the whole city.
Meanwhile, the years passed. Anna Alekseevna already had two children. When I came to the Luganovichs, the servants smiled welcomingly, the children shouted that Uncle Pavel Konstantinich had come, and hung themselves around my neck; everyone was happy. They didn’t understand what was going on in my soul, and they thought that I was rejoicing too. Everyone saw me as a noble being. Both adults and children felt that a noble being was walking around the room, and this added some special charm to their relationship with me, as if in my presence their lives were purer and more beautiful. Anna Alekseevna and I went to the theater together, always on foot; we sat in armchairs next to each other; our shoulders touched, I silently took the binoculars from her hands and at that time I felt that she was close to me, that she was mine, that we could not live without each other, but, due to some strange misunderstanding, leaving the theater, we said goodbye every time and dispersed like strangers. In the city they were already saying God knows what about us, but out of everything they said, there was not a single word of truth.
In recent years, Anna Alekseevna began to go more often, either to her mother or to her sister; she was already in a bad mood, the consciousness of an unsatisfied, spoiled life appeared, when she did not want to see either her husband or children. She was already being treated for a nerve disorder.
We were silent and kept silent, and in front of strangers she felt some strange irritation against me; no matter what I said, she did not agree with me, and if I argued, then she took the side of my opponent. When I dropped something, she said coldly:
- Congratulations.
If, going to the theater with her, I forgot to take binoculars, then she would say:
“I knew you would forget.”
Fortunately or unfortunately, there is nothing in our lives that does not end sooner or later. The time had come for separation, since Luganovich was appointed chairman in one of the western provinces. It was necessary to sell furniture, horses, and a dacha. When we went to the dacha and then returned and looked back to take a last look at the garden, at the green roof, everyone was sad, and I understood that the time had come to say goodbye to more than just the dacha. It was decided that at the end of August we would accompany Anna Alekseevna to the Crimea, where the doctors had sent her, and a little later Luganovich would leave with the children for his western province.
We saw off Anna Alekseevna in a large crowd. When she had already said goodbye to her husband and children and there was only a moment left before the third bell, I ran into her compartment to put one of her baskets on the shelf, which she had almost forgotten; and it was necessary to say goodbye. When here, in the compartment, our eyes met, our spiritual strength left us both, I hugged her, she pressed her face to my chest, and tears flowed from her eyes; kissing her face, shoulders, hands, wet with tears - oh, how unhappy we were with her! - I confessed my love to her, and with a burning pain in my heart I realized how unnecessary, petty and how deceptive everything was that prevented us from loving.
I realized that when you love, then in your reasoning about this love you need to proceed from the highest, from something more important than happiness or unhappiness, sin or virtue in their current sense, or you don’t need to reason at all.
I kissed him one last time, shook hands, and we parted – forever. The train was already on its way. I sat in the next compartment - it was empty - and until the first station I sat here and cried. Then he went to his place in Sofiino on foot...
While Alekhine was talking, the rain stopped and the sun came out. Burkin and Ivan Ivanovich went out onto the balcony; from here there was a beautiful view of the garden and the stretch of water, which now sparkled in the sun like a mirror. They admired and at the same time regretted that this man with kind, intelligent eyes, who told them with such sincerity, was actually spinning here, in this huge estate, like a squirrel in a wheel, and was not engaged in science or anything else , which would make his life more enjoyable; and they thought about what a sorrowful face the young lady must have had when he said goodbye to her in the compartment and kissed her face and shoulders. Both of them met her in the city, and Burkin even knew her and found her beautiful.
…
1898
Chekhov's story “About Love”
How to talk about a complex, delicate situation when a man’s heart is given to a married woman, without slipping into ambiguity and vulgarity so familiar to modern literature? The brilliant writer Chekhov succeeded. The mood, subtlety and complexity of expressing the artistic intent of the story are fully reflected in the subtext, in the writer’s unexpressed opinion about the relationship between a man and a woman.
His special story “About Love,” in which the married woman Lidiya Alekseevna Luganskaya and the landowner Pavel Konstantinovich Alekhin experienced feelings of sincere love for each other, is interesting because, perhaps, this story reflected the writer’s romantic feelings for Lydia Alekseevna Avilova. True, Chekhov’s love for Avilova is known only from her memoirs, and she, being very old, wrote in her notebook that it was difficult for her to unravel the skein of silk of their relationship, and she still could not resolve the question: “did they love each other?” ?
But in one thing, the plot of the story and the events of the writer’s life actually completely coincide.
The main character of the story - Alekhine Pavel Konstantinovich - comes to Sofino and persistently, sparing no effort and time, engages in agriculture in order to restore his own estate and agricultural land that has fallen into disrepair.
In 1892, Anton Pavlovich acquired an estate in the small village of Melikhovo, and his family, like the main character of the story, had to put a lot of effort into transforming the neglected Melikhovo estate, which was in a dilapidated state.
Summary
Chekhov's story “About Love” is part of a trilogy of stories written in Melikhovo, and it begins with breakfast, in which two hunters and the small landowner Alekhine take part. At breakfast, the gentlemen decided to gossip and discuss the love of the serf girl, the beautiful Pelageya, with the devout cook Nikanor, who has a violent temper. So they started talking about love.
Alekhine began his story with the assertion that it is impossible to explain every case by generally accepted standards and judgments, that it is necessary to individualize each love story. And it is unusual for Russian people to poeticize love, but only to decorate it with fatal questions.
Alekhine's love story began with the fact that he came to Sofiino to take up farming and, through his hard work, pay off his father's debts.
The most pleasant event in his life on the estate was his acquaintance with his friend, the chairman of the district court, Luganovich, and his young, intelligent and charming wife, Anna Alekseevna.
The acquaintance took place in early spring and soon, on each of his visits to the city, Alekhine made sure to visit the Luganovich family. They got used to him in this house, and he got used to it, he entered without a report and was his own person.
Alekhine’s attitude towards Anna Alekseevna was enthusiastic from the first day; as soon as he saw her, he already had the impression of something important and extraordinary.
And in his story to the hunters, Pavel Konstantinovich speaks only admiringly of Anna Alekseevna, not sparing the most pleasant epithets towards her.
Luganovich's wife also remained partial to Alekhine, and she and her husband were very worried about his affairs and health.
Years passed, the feelings of Anna Alekseevna and Pavel Konstantinovich grew stronger, but their upbringing and care for their loved ones did not allow the lovers to cross the forbidden line in their relationship.
Anna Alekseevna began to have a nervous disorder, she was constantly in a bad mood and began to experience strange irritation towards Alekhine.
As usually happens in life, everything comes to an end. Luganovich was appointed chairman of one of the western provinces, where he went with his children, and Anna Alekseevna, at the insistence of doctors, went to Crimea.
When seeing off Anna Alekseevna at the railway station, Alekhine, without any bad intentions, went into her compartment and, finally, their explanation of their feelings to each other took place.
Only by parting forever were they able to express their true feelings without being burdened by the rules of society and family values.
What are the ideas about love in the story?
In the story, Alekhine evaluates the love feelings of people, both at the very beginning of the story and at the end.
If, just starting his story, Alekhine says that questions relating to personal happiness can be interpreted in any way, then at the end of his story he firmly declares that all the circumstances that prevented them from loving were unnecessary, petty and deceptive. He is convinced that in love one must come “from the highest,” and one should not talk about one’s feelings at all, but only act.
On the one hand, the opinion of the protagonist can be regarded as brave, somewhat reckless and selfless, but on the other hand, how can one not remember in this case the crushing love of Anna Karenina and the sad ending of her life, which occurred thanks to her feelings that rejected idle reasoning .
The mystery of the love story of Chekhov's heroes never finds its solution, the story does not give recipes for what to do when falling in love cannot be realized in reality, the reader is presented only with a version of events when the lovers adhere to a certain line of behavior, according to the accepted rules of society.
Anna Alekseevna
Wife of Dmitry Luganovich. Chekhov first shows her at the age of twenty-two, having recently given birth to a child. Pavel admires “the look, the graceful noble hand... her home dress, her hairstyle, her steps...”. When he first meets her, he sees “a young, beautiful, kind, intelligent, charming...” woman.
Both main characters feel attracted, but neither makes the first move. Anna worries about Pavel’s affairs and rejoices at his arrival in the house. Hidden feelings weigh on a woman, she gradually becomes irritable and angry with her lover. No matter what Pavel argued about, Anna defended the enemy’s position. A forgotten thing evoked words of contempt. Only in the face of inevitable separation does a woman show her true feelings. Anna cries, hugging Pavel.
There are also minor characters in Chekhov’s story “About Love”: the drunken cook Nikanor, Pelageya who is in love with him, as well as Burkin and Ivan Ivanovich, to whom Alekhine told his story.
The work reveals the problem of assessing feelings. For many years, the heroes were fettered by thoughts about the correctness of their actions, the lovers were afraid of destroying their family. What is better: to succumb to passions or to remain faithful to duty - everyone decides for himself.
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