home » Cloth » Control dictations for the second half of the year. Woven from the sun: quotes about summer from the masters of words Excerpts from the novel “Rudin”

Control dictations for the second half of the year. Woven from the sun: quotes about summer from the masters of words Excerpts from the novel “Rudin”

It was a beautiful July day, one of those days that only happen when the weather has settled for a long time. From early morning the sky is clear; The morning dawn does not burn with fire: it spreads with a gentle blush. The sun - not fiery, not hot, as during a sultry drought, not dull purple, as before a storm, but bright and welcomingly radiant - floats up peacefully under a narrow and long cloud, shines freshly and sinks into its purple fog. The upper, thin edge of the stretched cloud will sparkle with snakes; their shine is like the shine of forged silver... But then the playing rays poured out again, and the mighty luminary rose merrily and majestic, as if taking off. Around noon there usually appear many round high clouds, golden-gray, with delicate white edges. Like islands scattered along an endlessly overflowing river, flowing around them with deeply transparent branches of even blue, they hardly move from their place; further, towards the horizon, they move, crowd together, the blue between them is no longer visible; but they themselves are as azure as the sky: they are all thoroughly imbued with light and warmth. The color of the sky, light, pale lilac, does not change throughout the day and is the same all around; It doesn’t get dark anywhere, the thunderstorm doesn’t thicken; unless here and there bluish stripes stretch from top to bottom: then barely noticeable rain is falling. By evening these clouds disappear; the last of them, blackish and vague, like smoke, lie in pink clouds opposite the setting sun; at the place where it set as calmly as it calmly rose into the sky, a scarlet glow stands for a short time over the darkened earth, and, quietly blinking, like a carefully carried candle, the evening star glows on it. On days like these, the colors are all softened; light, but not bright; everything bears the stamp of some touching meekness. On such days, the heat is sometimes very strong, sometimes even “soaring” along the slopes of the fields; but the wind disperses, pushes apart the accumulated heat, and the vortex-gyres - an undoubted sign of constant weather - walk in tall white pillars along the roads through the arable land. In dry and clean air it smells of wormwood, compressed rye, buckwheat; even an hour before night you do not feel damp. The farmer wishes for similar weather for harvesting grain...

On just such a day I was once hunting for black grouse in Chernsky district, Tula province. I found and shot quite a lot of game; the filled bag mercilessly cut my shoulder; but the evening dawn was already fading, and in the air, still bright, although no longer illuminated by the rays of the setting sun, cold shadows began to thicken and spread when I finally decided to return to my home. Quick steps I walked through a long “square” of bushes, climbed a hill and, instead of the expected familiar plain with an oak forest to the right and a low white church in the distance, I saw completely different places unknown to me. At my feet stretched a narrow valley; directly opposite, a dense aspen tree rose like a steep wall. I stopped in bewilderment, looked around... “Hey! - I thought, “Yes, I ended up in the wrong place at all: I took it too far to the right,” and, marveling at my mistake, I quickly went down the hill. I was immediately overcome by an unpleasant, motionless dampness, as if I had entered a cellar; the thick tall grass at the bottom of the valley, all wet, turned white like an even tablecloth; it was somehow creepy to walk on it. I quickly climbed out to the other side and walked, turning to the left, along the aspen tree. The bats were already hovering over its sleeping tops, mysteriously circling and trembling in the vaguely clear sky; A belated hawk flew briskly and straight overhead, hurrying to its nest. “As soon as I get to that corner,” I thought to myself, “there will be a road right here, but I gave a detour a mile away!”

I finally reached the corner of the forest, but there was no road there: some unmown, low bushes spread wide in front of me, and behind them, far, far away, a deserted field could be seen. I stopped again. “What kind of parable?.. But where am I?” I began to remember how and where I went during the day... “Eh! Yes, these are Parakhin bushes! - I finally exclaimed, “exactly!” this must be the Sindeevskaya Grove... How did I come here? So far?.. Strange”! Now we need to take the right again.”

I went to the right, through the bushes. Meanwhile the night was approaching and growing as thundercloud; It seemed that, along with the evening vapors, darkness was rising from everywhere and even pouring from above. I came across some kind of unmarked, overgrown path; I walked along it, carefully looking ahead. Everything around quickly turned black and fell silent - only the quails squawked occasionally. A small night bird, silently and low rushing on its soft wings, almost stumbled upon me and timidly dived to the side. I went out to the edge of the bushes and wandered across the field. I was already having difficulty distinguishing distant objects; the field was vaguely white around; behind him, approaching with every moment, gloomy darkness rose in huge clouds. My steps echoed dully in the frozen air. The pale sky began to turn blue again - but it was already the blue of night. The stars flickered and moved on it.

What I had taken for a grove turned out to be a dark and round mound. “Where am I?” - I repeated again out loud, stopped for the third time and looked questioningly at my English yellow-piebald dog Dianka, decidedly the smartest of all four-legged creatures. But the smartest of the four-legged creatures only wagged her tail, blinked her tired eyes sadly and did not give me any good advice. I felt ashamed of her, and I desperately rushed forward, as if I had suddenly guessed where I should go, rounded the hillock and found myself in a shallow, plowed-out ravine all around. A strange feeling immediately took possession of me. This hollow had the appearance of an almost regular cauldron with gentle sides; at the bottom of it stood several large, white stones standing upright - it seemed that they had crawled there for a secret meeting - and it was so mute and dull in it, the sky hung so flat, so sadly above it that my heart sank. Some animal squeaked weakly and pitifully between the stones. I hurried to get back onto the hill. Until now I still had not lost hope of finding my way home; but then I was finally convinced that I was completely lost, and, no longer trying at all to recognize the surrounding places, which were almost completely drowned in darkness, I walked straight ahead, following the stars - at random... I walked like this for about half an hour, with difficulty moving my legs. It seemed like I had never been in such empty places in my life: no lights flickered anywhere, no sound was heard. One gentle hill gave way to another, fields stretched endlessly after fields, bushes seemed to suddenly rise out of the ground right in front of my nose. I kept walking and was about to lie down somewhere until the morning, when suddenly I found myself over a terrible abyss.

The upper, thin edge of the stretched cloud will sparkle with snakes; their shine is like the shine of forged silver... But then the playing rays poured out again, and the mighty luminary rose both cheerfully and majestically, as if taking off. Around noon there usually appear many round high clouds, golden-gray, with delicate white edges. Like islands scattered along an endlessly overflowing river, flowing around them with deeply transparent branches of even blue, they hardly move from their place; further, towards the horizon, they move, crowd together, the blue between them is no longer visible; but they themselves are as azure 2 as the sky: they are all thoroughly imbued with light and warmth. The color of the sky, light, pale lilac, does not change throughout the day and is the same all around; It doesn’t get dark anywhere, the thunderstorm doesn’t thicken; unless here and there bluish stripes stretch from top to bottom: then barely noticeable rain is falling.

By evening these clouds disappear; the last of them, blackish and vague, like smoke, lie in pink clouds opposite the setting sun; at the place where it set as calmly as it calmly rose into the sky, the scarlet glow stands for a short time over the darkened earth, and, quietly blinking, like a carefully carried candle, the evening star glows on it. On days like these, the colors are all softened; light, but not bright; everything bears the stamp of some touching meekness. On such days, the heat is sometimes very strong, sometimes even “soaring” along the slopes of the fields; but the wind disperses, pushes apart the accumulated heat, and the vortex-gyres - an undoubted sign of constant weather - walk in tall white pillars along the roads through the arable land. The dry and clean air smells of wormwood, compressed rye, and buckwheat; even an hour before night you do not feel damp. The farmer wishes for similar weather for harvesting grain...

I. S. Turgenev on the hunt.
Etude. Artist N. D. Dmitriev-Orenburgsky. 1879

On just such a day I was once hunting for black grouse in the Chernsky district of the Tula province. I found and shot quite a lot of game; the filled bag 3 mercilessly cut my shoulder; but the evening dawn was already fading, and in the air, still bright, although no longer illuminated by the rays of the setting sun, cold shadows began to thicken and spread when I finally decided to return to my home. With quick steps I walked through a long “square” of 4 bushes, climbed a hill and, instead of the expected familiar plain with an oak forest to the right and a low white church in the distance, I saw completely different, unknown places. At my feet stretched a narrow valley; directly opposite, a dense aspen tree rose like a steep wall. I stopped in bewilderment, looked around... “Hey! - I thought. “Yes, I ended up in the wrong place at all: I took it too far to the right,” and, marveling at his mistake, he quickly went down the hill. I was immediately overcome by an unpleasant, motionless dampness, as if I had entered a cellar; the thick tall grass at the bottom of the valley, all wet, turned white like an even tablecloth; it was somehow creepy to walk on it. I quickly climbed out to the other side and walked, turning to the left, along the aspen tree. Bats were already flying over its sleeping tops, mysteriously circling and trembling in the vaguely clear sky; A belated hawk flew briskly and straight overhead, hurrying to its nest. “As soon as I get to that corner,” I thought to myself, “there will be a road right here, but I gave a detour a mile away!”

I finally reached the corner of the forest, but there was no road there; some uncut, low bushes spread wide in front of me, and behind them, far, far away, a deserted field could be seen. I stopped again. “What kind of parable?.. But where am I?” I began to remember how and where I went during the day... “Eh! Yes, these are Parakhin bushes! - I finally exclaimed, “exactly!” this must be the Sindeevskaya Grove... How did I come here? So far?.. Strange! Now we need to take the right again.”

I went to the right, through the bushes. Meanwhile, the night was approaching and growing like a thundercloud; It seemed that, along with the evening vapors, darkness was rising from everywhere and even pouring from above. I came across some kind of unmarked, overgrown path; I walked along it, carefully looking ahead. Everything around quickly turned black and died down - only the quails screamed occasionally. A small night bird, silently and low rushing on its soft wings, almost stumbled upon me and timidly dived to the side. I went out to the edge of the bushes and wandered across the field. I was already having difficulty distinguishing distant objects; the field was vaguely white around; behind him, approaching with every moment, gloomy darkness rose in huge clouds. My steps echoed dully in the frozen air. The pale sky began to turn blue again - but it was already the blue of night. The stars flickered and moved on it.

This hollow had the appearance of an almost regular cauldron with gentle sides; at the bottom of it stood several large white stones standing upright - it seemed that they had crawled there for a secret meeting - and it was so mute and dull in it, the sky hung so flat, so sadly above it that my heart sank. Some animal squeaked weakly and pitifully between the stones. I hurried to get back onto the hill. Until now I still had not lost hope of finding my way home; but then I finally became convinced that I was completely lost, and, no longer trying at all to recognize the surrounding places, which were almost completely drowned in darkness, I walked straight ahead, following the stars - at random... I walked like this for about half an hour, with difficulty moving my legs. It seemed like I had never been in such empty places in my life: no lights flickered anywhere, no sound was heard. One gentle hill gave way to another, fields stretched endlessly after fields, bushes seemed to suddenly rise out of the ground right in front of my nose. I kept walking and was about to lie down somewhere until the morning, when suddenly I found myself over a terrible abyss.

I quickly pulled back my raised leg and, through the barely transparent darkness of the night, I saw a huge plain far below me. Wide river went around it in a semicircle moving away from me; steel reflections of water, occasionally and vaguely flickering, indicated its flow. The hill I was on suddenly descended almost vertically; its huge outlines were separated, turning black, from the bluish airy void, and right below me, in the corner formed by that cliff and plain, near the river, which in this place stood as a motionless, dark mirror, under the very steep of the hill, each other burned and smoked with a red flame there are two lights near the friend. People swarmed around them, shadows wavered, sometimes the front half of a small and curly head was brightly illuminated...

I finally found out where I had gone. This meadow is famous in our neighborhoods under the name Bezhin meadow... But there was no way to return home, especially at night; my legs gave way beneath me from fatigue. I decided to approach the lights and, in the company of those people whom I took to be the herd workers, 5 wait for dawn. I safely went down, but did not have time to let go of the last branch I had grabbed from my hands, when suddenly two large, white, shaggy dogs rushed at me with an angry bark. Children's clear voices were heard around the lights: two or three boys quickly rose from the ground. I responded to their questioning cries. They ran up to me, immediately called back the dogs, who were especially struck by the appearance of my Dianka, and I approached them.

I was mistaken in mistaking the people sitting around those lights for the herd workers. These were simply peasant children from neighboring villages who guarded the herd. In hot weather summer time Our horses are driven out at night to feed in the field: during the day, flies and gadflies would not give them rest. Driving out the herd before the evening and bringing in the herd at dawn is a great holiday for peasant boys. Sitting without hats and in old sheepskin coats on the most lively nags, they rush with a cheerful whoop and scream, dangling their arms and legs, jumping high, laughing loudly. Light dust rises in a yellow column and rushes along the road; A friendly stomp can be heard far away, the horses run with their ears pricked up; in front of everyone, with his tail raised and constantly changing his legs, gallops some red-haired cosmach, with burrs in his tangled mane.

I told the boys that I was lost and sat down with them. They asked me where I was from, remained silent, and stood aside. We talked a little. I lay down under a gnawed bush and began to look around. The picture was wonderful: near the lights, a round reddish reflection trembled and seemed to freeze, resting against the darkness; the flame, flaring up, occasionally threw quick reflections beyond the line of that circle; a thin tongue of light will lick the bare branches of the willow tree and disappear at once; Sharp, long shadows, rushing in for a moment, in turn reached the very lights: darkness fought with light. Sometimes, when the flame burned weaker and the circle of light narrowed, a horse’s head, bay, with a winding groove, or all white, would suddenly stick out from the approaching darkness, looking at us attentively and stupidly, nimbly chewing long grass, and, lowering itself again, immediately disappeared. You could only hear her continue to chew and snort. From an illuminated place it is difficult to see what is happening in the darkness, and therefore everything up close seemed covered with an almost black curtain; but further to the horizon long spots Hills and forests were dimly visible. The languid clear sky stood solemnly and immensely high above us with all its mysterious splendor. My chest felt sweetly ashamed, inhaling that special, languid and fresh smell - the smell of a Russian summer night. Almost no noise was heard around...

"Bezhin Meadow" Fedya.

"Bezhin Meadow" Pavlusha.
Artist A. Pakhomov. 1935

Only occasionally in a nearby river will splash with sudden sonority big fish and the coastal reeds would rustle faintly, barely shaken by the oncoming wave... Only the lights crackled quietly.

The boys sat around them; Sitting right there were the two dogs who so wanted to eat me. For a long time they could not come to terms with my presence and, drowsily squinting and squinting at the fire, occasionally growled with an extraordinary feeling self-esteem; At first they growled, and then squealed slightly, as if regretting the impossibility of fulfilling their desire. There were five boys: Fedya, Pavlusha, Ilyusha, Kostya and Vanya. (From their conversations I learned their names and now intend to introduce them to the reader.)

The first, the eldest of all, Fedya, you would give about fourteen years. He was a slender boy, with beautiful and delicate, slightly small features, curly blond hair, light eyes and a constant, cheerful, half-absent-minded smile. He belonged, by all signs, to rich family and went out into the field not out of necessity, but just for fun. He was wearing a motley cotton shirt with a yellow border; a small new army jacket, worn saddle-back, barely rested on his narrow shoulders; A comb hung from a blue belt. His boots with low tops were exactly his boots - not his father's. The second boy, Pavlusha, had tousled black hair, gray eyes, wide cheekbones, a pale, pockmarked face, a large but regular mouth, a huge head, as they say, the size of a beer cauldron, a squat, awkward body. The guy was unprepossessing - needless to say! - but still, I liked him: he looked very smart and direct, and there was strength in his voice. He could not flaunt his clothes: they all consisted of a simple, fancy shirt 6 and patched ports. The face of the third, Ilyusha, was rather insignificant: hook-nosed, elongated, slightly blind, it expressed a kind of dull, painful solicitude; his compressed lips did not move, his knitted eyebrows did not move apart - it was as if he was squinting from the fire. His yellow, almost white hair stuck out in sharp braids from under a low felt cap, which he pulled down over his ears every now and then with both hands. He was wearing new bast shoes and onuchi 7, a thick rope, twisted three times around his waist, carefully tightened his neat black scroll. Both he and Pavlusha looked no more than twelve years old. The fourth, Kostya, a boy of about ten, aroused my curiosity with his thoughtful and sad gaze. His whole face was small, thin, freckled, pointed downward, like a squirrel’s; lips could barely be distinguished; but his large, black eyes, shining with a liquid brilliance, made a strange impression; they seemed to want to express something for which there were no words in the language - in his language, at least. He was vertically challenged, frail build and dressed rather poorly. The last one, Vanya, I didn’t even notice at first: he was lying on the ground, quietly huddled under the angular matting, and only occasionally stuck his light brown curly head out from under it. This boy was only seven years old.

"Bezhin Meadow"
Ilyusha and Kostya. Artist A. Pakhomov. 1935

So, I lay under a bush to the side and looked at the boys. A small cauldron hung over one of the lights; Potatoes were boiled in it. Pavlusha watched him and, kneeling, poked a sliver of wood into the boiling water. Fedya lay leaning on his elbow and spreading the tails of his overcoat. Ilyusha sat next to Kostya and still squinted intensely. Kostya lowered his head a little and looked somewhere into the distance, Vanya did not move under his matting. I pretended to be asleep. Little by little the boys started talking again.

At first they chattered about this and that, about tomorrow's work, about horses; but suddenly Fedya turned to Ilyusha and, as if resuming an interrupted conversation, asked him:

Well, so what, you saw the brownie?

No, I didn’t see him, and you can’t even see him,” Ilyusha answered in a hoarse and weak voice, the sound of which perfectly matched the expression of his face, “but I heard... And I’m not the only one.”

Where is he? - asked Pavlusha.

In the old roller 8.

Do you go to the factory?

Well, let's go. My brother, Avdyushka, and I are members of the Lisovshchiki 9.

Look, factory made!..

Well, how did you hear him? - asked Fedya.

That's how. My brother Avdyushka and I had to, and with Fyodor Mikheevsky, and with Ivashka Kosy, and with the other Ivashka, from the Red Hills, and also with Ivashka Sukhorukov, and there were other kids there; There were about ten of us guys - like the whole shift; but we had to spend the night in the roller, that is, it’s not that we had to, but Nazarov, the overseer, forbade it; says: “What, they say, do you guys have to trudge home; There’s a lot of work tomorrow, so you guys don’t go home.” So we stayed and lay all together, and Avdyushka began to say that, guys, how will the brownie come?.. And before he, Avdey, had time to speak, suddenly someone came over our heads; but we were lying at the bottom, and he came in at the top, near the wheel. We hear: he walks, the boards under him bend and crack; now he has passed through our heads; The water will suddenly make such a noise and noise on the wheel; the wheel will knock, the wheel will start spinning; but the screensavers at the palace are 10 lowered. We marvel: who raised them, that the water began to flow; however, the wheel turned, turned and remained. He went again to the door at the top, and began to go down the stairs, and so he went down, as if he was in no hurry; the steps under him even groan... Well, he came up to our door, waited, waited - the door suddenly swung open. We were alarmed, we looked - nothing... Suddenly, lo and behold, form 11 of one vat began to move, rose, dipped, walked, walked like that through the air, as if someone was rinsing it, and then fell back into place. Then another vat's hook came off the nail and onto the nail again; then it was as if someone was going to the door, and suddenly he started coughing, choking, like some kind of sheep, and so noisily... We all fell in such a heap, crawling under each other... How scared we were about that time!

Look how! - said Pavel. - Why did he cough?

Don't know; maybe from the dampness. Everyone was silent.

“What,” asked Fedya, “were the potatoes cooked?” Pavlusha felt them.

No, more cheese... See, it splashed,” he added, turning his face in the direction of the river, “it must be a pike... And there the star rolled.

No, I’ll tell you something, brothers,” Kostya spoke in a thin voice, “listen, just the other day, what my dad told me in front of me.”

Well, let’s listen,” Fedya said with a patronizing look.

You know Gavrila, the suburban carpenter, right?

Well, yes; we know.

Do you know why he’s so gloomy all the time, he’s still silent, do you know? That’s why he’s so gloomy: he went off once, daddy said, he went, my brothers, into the forest for his nuts. So he went into the forest for nuts and got lost; I went, God knows where I went. He walked and walked, my brothers - no! can't find the way; and it’s night outside. So he sat down under a tree; “Come on, I’ll wait until morning,” he sat down and dozed off. He fell asleep and suddenly heard someone calling him. He looks - no one. He dozed off again - they called him again. He looks again, looks: and in front of him on a branch the mermaid sits, sways and calls him to her, and she dies with laughter, laughs... And the month shines strongly, so strongly, the month shines clearly - that’s it, my brothers, it is seen. So she calls him, and she’s all very light and white, sitting on a branch, like some kind of little fish or a minnow, and then there’s this crucian carp that’s so whitish, silver... Gavrila the carpenter just froze, my brothers, and she, you know , he laughs and keeps calling him to her with his hand. Gavrila stood up and listened to the mermaid, my brothers, yes, you know, the Lord advised him: he laid the cross on himself... And how difficult it was for him to lay the cross, my brothers; he says, his hand is just like stone, it doesn’t move... Oh, you’re so, ah!.. That’s how he laid the cross, my brothers, the little mermaid stopped laughing, and suddenly she started crying... She’s crying, my brothers, her eyes she wipes it with her hair, and her hair is as green as your hemp. So Gavrila looked and looked at her, and began to ask her: “Why are you crying, forest potion?” And the mermaid somehow said to him: “If only you had not been baptized,” he says, “man, you should have lived with me in joy until the end of your days; but I cry, I am killed because you were baptized; Yes, I won’t be the only one who will kill myself: you too will kill yourself until the end of your days.” Then she, my brothers, disappeared, and Gavrila immediately understood how he could get out of the forest, that is, get out... But since then he has been walking around sadly.

Eka! - Fedya said after a short silence, - but how can such forest evil spirits spoil a Christian soul, he didn’t listen to her?

Here you go! - said Kostya. - And Gavrila said that her voice was so thin and plaintive, like a toad’s.

Did your dad tell you this himself? - Fedya continued.

Myself. I was lying on the floor and heard everything.

Wonderful thing! Why should he be sad?.. And, you know, she liked him and called him.

Yes, I liked it! - Ilyusha picked up. - Of course! She wanted to tickle him, that's what she wanted. This is their business, these mermaids.

But there should be mermaids here too,” Fedya noted.

No,” answered Kostya, “here is a clean, free place.” One thing - the river is close.

Everyone fell silent. Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a drawn-out, ringing, almost moaning sound was heard, one of those incomprehensible night sounds that sometimes arise in the midst of deep silence, rise, stand in the air and slowly spread, finally, as if dying out. If you listen, it’s as if there’s nothing, but it’s ringing. It seemed that someone had shouted for a long, long time under the very horizon, someone else seemed to respond to him in the forest with a thin, sharp laugh, and a weak, hissing whistle rushed along the river. The boys looked at each other, shuddered...

The power of the cross is with us! - Ilya whispered.

Oh you crows! - Pavel shouted, - why are you alarmed? Look, the potatoes are cooked. (Everyone moved closer to the cauldron and began to eat the steaming potatoes; Vanya alone did not move.) What are you doing? - said Pavel.

But he did not crawl out from under his mat. The cauldron was soon all emptied.

“Did you guys hear,” Ilyusha began, “what happened to us in Varnavitsy the other day?”

At the dam? - asked Fedya.

Yes, yes, on the dam, on the broken one. This is an unclean place, so unclean and so deaf. All around there are gullies and ravines, and in the ravines all the 12 kazyuli are found.

Well, what happened? tell me...

Here's what happened. Perhaps you don’t know, Fedya, but that’s where the drowned man is buried; but he drowned himself a long time ago, when the pond was still deep; only his grave is still visible, and even that is barely visible: just like a little tubercle... Just the other day the clerk called the huntsman Ermil; says: “Go, Yermil, to the post office.”

Yermil always goes to the post office with us; He killed all his dogs: for some reason they don’t live with him, they never did, but he’s a good huntsman, he’s accepted them all. So Yermil went to get the mail, and he was delayed in the city, but on his way back he was already drunk. And the night, and the bright night: the moon is shining... So Yermil is driving across the dam: this is how his road turned out. He’s driving like this, the huntsman Yermil, and he sees: on the grave of a drowned man there is a lamb, white, curly, and cute, pacing. So Yermil thinks: “I’ll take him, why should he disappear like this,” and he got down and took him in his arms... But the lamb - nothing. Here Yermil goes to the horse, and the horse stares at him, snores, shakes its head; however, he scolded her, sat on her with the lamb and rode off again, holding the lamb in front of him. He looks at him, and the lamb looks him straight in the eyes. He felt terrible, Yermil the huntsman: that, they say, I don’t remember sheep looking into anyone’s eyes like that; however nothing; He began to stroke his fur like that, saying: “Byasha, byasha!” And the ram suddenly bares his teeth, and he too: “Byasha, byasha...”

Before the narrator had time to say it the last word, when suddenly both dogs stood up at once, rushed away from the fire with convulsive barking and disappeared into the darkness. All the boys were scared. Vanya jumped out from under his mat. Pavlusha rushed after the dogs screaming. Their barking quickly moved away... The restless running of the alarmed herd was heard. Pavlusha shouted loudly: “Grey! Bug!..” After a few moments the barking stopped; Pavel's voice came from afar... A little more time passed; the boys looked at each other in bewilderment, as if waiting for something to happen... Suddenly the tramp of a galloping horse was heard; She stopped abruptly right next to the fire, and, clutching the mane, Pavlusha quickly jumped off her. Both dogs also jumped into the circle of light and immediately sat down, sticking out their red tongues.

What's there? what's happened? - the boys asked.

“Nothing,” answered Pavel, waving his hand at the horse, “the dogs sensed something.” “I thought it was a wolf,” he added in an indifferent voice, breathing quickly through his entire chest.

I involuntarily admired Pavel's neck. He was very good at that moment. His ugly face, animated by fast driving, glowed with bold prowess and firm determination. Without a twig in his hand, at night, he, without hesitation at all, galloped alone towards the wolf... “What a nice boy!” - I thought, looking at him.

Have you seen them, perhaps, wolves? - asked the coward Kostya.

There are always a lot of them here,” answered Pavel, “but they are restless only in winter.”

He took a nap in front of the fire again. Sitting down on the ground, he dropped his hand on the shaggy back of one of the dogs, and for a long time the delighted animal did not turn its head, looking sideways at Pavlusha with grateful pride.

Vanya hid under the matting again.

“And what fears you told us, Ilyushka,” spoke Fedya, who, as the son of a rich peasant, had to be the lead singer (he himself spoke little, as if afraid of losing his dignity). “And the dogs here were hard pressed to bark... Indeed, I heard that this place is unclean.

Varnavitsy?.. Of course! what an unclean thing! There, they say, they saw the old master more than once - the late master. They say he walks around in a long-length caftan and groans all this, looking for something on the ground. Grandfather Trofimych met him once: “What, Father Ivan Ivanovich, do you want to look for on earth?”

Did he ask him? - interrupted the amazed Fedya.

Yes, I asked.

Well, well done Trofimych after that... Well, what about that one?

Rupture-grass 13, he says, I’m looking. Yes, he speaks so dully, dully: - gap-grass. - What do you need, Father Ivan Ivanovich, to break the grass? - It presses, he says, the grave presses, Trofimych: there you want it, there you go...

Look what! - Fedya noted. - It’s not enough, you know, he’s lived.

What a miracle! - said Kostya. “I thought you could only see the dead on Parents’ Saturday the 14th.”

You can see the dead at any hour,” Ilyusha said with confidence, who, as far as I could see, knew all the rural beliefs better than others... “But on parent’s Saturday you can see a living person, for whom, that is, that year turn to die. All you have to do at night is sit on the porch of the church and keep looking at the road. Those who will pass by you on the road, that is, will die that year. Last year, Grandma Ulyana came to the porch.

Well, did she see anyone? - Kostya asked curiously.

Of course. First of all, she sat for a long, long time, didn’t see or hear anyone... only it was as if a dog was barking like that, barking somewhere... Suddenly, she looked: a boy was walking along the path in only a shirt. She caught my eye - Ivashka Fedoseev is coming...

The one who died in the spring? - Fedya interrupted.

The same one. He walks and doesn’t raise his head... But Ulyana recognized him... But then he looks: the woman is coming. She peered, peered - oh, Lord! - she walks along the road, Ulyana herself.

Really herself? - asked Fedya.

By God, by myself.

Well, she's not dead yet, is she?

Yes, a year hasn’t passed yet. And look at her: what holds her soul.

Everyone became quiet again. Pavel threw a handful of dry branches onto the fire. They suddenly turned black in the sudden flame, crackled, began to smoke, and began to warp, lifting up the burnt ends. The reflection of light struck, shaking impetuously, in all directions, especially upward. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a white dove flew straight into this reflection, timidly turned around in one place, bathed in a hot shine, and disappeared, ringing its wings.

“You know, he strayed from home,” Pavel noted. - Now he will fly, as long as he stumbles upon something, and where he pokes, he will spend the night there until dawn.

“And what, Pavlusha,” said Kostya, “wasn’t it a righteous soul that flew to heaven?”

Pavel threw another handful of branches onto the fire.

Maybe,” he finally said.

“Tell me, Pavlusha,” Fedya began, “that you also saw heavenly foresight in Shalamov?” 15

How did the sun become invisible? Of course.

Tea, are you scared too?

We're not alone. Our master, Khosha, told us in advance that, they say, you will have a foresight, but when it got dark, he himself, they say, became so afraid that it was a given. And in the yard hut there was a woman cook, so as soon as it got dark, hear, she took and broke all the pots in the oven with a grabber: “Whoever eats now, he says, the end of the world has come.” So the stuff started flowing. And in our village, brother, there were rumors that, they say, white wolves will run across the earth, they will eat people, predatory bird will fly, or even Trishka 16 himself will be seen.

What kind of Trishka is this? - asked Kostya.

Do not you know? - Ilyusha picked up with fervor, - well, brother, are you so smart that you don’t know Trishka? Sidney is sitting in your village, that’s for sure Sidney! Trishka - this will be such an amazing person who will come; and he will come when they come last times and he will be like this amazing person that it would be impossible to take him, and nothing could be done to him: he would be such an amazing person. For example, the peasants will want to take him: they will blow a club at him, they will surround him, but he will avert their eyes - he will avert their eyes so much that they themselves will beat each other. If they put him in prison, for example, he will ask for some water to drink in a ladle: they will bring him a ladle, and he will dive in, and remember what his name was. They will put chains on him, and he will shake his hands - they will fall off him. Well, this Trishka will walk around the villages and towns; and this Trishka, a crafty man, will seduce the Christian people... well, but he will be unable to do anything... He will be such an amazing, crafty man.

Well, yes,” Pavel continued in his leisurely voice, “that’s how it is.” That's what we were waiting for. The old people said that, as soon as the heavenly foresight begins, Trishka will come. This is where the foresight began. All the people poured out into the street, into the field, waiting to see what would happen. And here, you know, the place is prominent and free. They look - suddenly some man is coming from the settlement from the mountain, so sophisticated, his head is so amazing... Everyone shouts: “Oh, Trishka is coming! oh, Trishka is coming!” - who knows where! Our elder climbed into a ditch; the old woman is stuck in the gateway, screaming obscenities, and she has frightened her yard dog so much that she is off the chain, through the fence, and into the forest; and Kuzka’s father, Dorofeich, jumped into the oats, sat down, and started shouting like a quail: “Maybe, they say, at least the enemy, the murderer, will take pity on the bird.” That’s how everyone was alarmed!.. And this man was our cooper, Vavila: he bought himself a new jug and put an empty jug on his head and put it on.

All the boys laughed and fell silent again for a moment, as often happens with people talking in the open air. I looked around: the night stood solemnly and royally; the damp freshness of late evening was replaced by midnight dry warmth, and for a long time it lay like a soft canopy on the sleeping fields; There was still a lot of time left until the first babble, until the first rustles and rustles of the morning, until the first dewdrops of dawn. The moon was not in the sky: it rose late at that time. Countless golden stars seemed to be flowing quietly, flickering vying with each other, in the direction of the Milky Way, and, really, looking at them, you seemed to vaguely feel the rapid, non-stop running of the earth... A strange, sharp, painful cry suddenly rang out twice successively over the river and a few moments later repeated further...

Kostya shuddered. "What is this?"

“It’s a heron screaming,” Pavel calmly objected.

“Heron,” Kostya repeated... “What is it, Pavlusha, I heard last night,” he added, after a short silence, “maybe you know...

What did you hear?

Here's what I heard. I walked from Kamennaya Ridge to Shashkino; and at first he walked all through our hazel trees, and then he walked through the meadow - you know, where he 17 comes out with ruin, there is a storm 18 there; you know, it’s still overgrown with reeds; So I walked past this noise, my brothers, and suddenly from that noise someone moaned, and so pitifully, pitifully: ooh... ooh... ooh! I was so afraid, my brothers: it was late, and my voice was so painful. So, it seems, I would cry myself... What would that be? huh?

In this storm last summer, thieves drowned Akim the forester,” Pavlusha noted, “so maybe his soul is complaining.”

But even then, my brothers,” Kostya objected, expanding his already huge eyes... - I didn’t even know that Akim was drowned in that butch: I wouldn’t have been so scared.

“And then, they say, there are such tiny frogs,” Pavel continued, “that scream so pitifully.

Frogs? Well, no, these are not frogs... what kind of frogs are they... (The heron screamed again over the river.) - Eck! - Kostya said involuntarily, - it’s like a goblin is screaming.

The goblin doesn’t scream, he’s mute,” Ilyusha picked up, “he just claps his hands and cracks...

Have you seen him, he's a devil, or what? - Fedya interrupted him mockingly.

No, I didn’t see him, and God forbid that I should see him; but others saw it. Just the other day he walked around our little peasant: he drove him, led him through the forest, and all around one clearing... He barely made it home to the light.

Well, did he see him?

Saw. He says he’s standing there, big, big, dark, shrouded, like he’s behind a tree, you can’t really make him out, as if he’s hiding from the moon, and he’s looking, looking with his eyes, blinking them, blinking...

Oh you! - Fedya exclaimed, shuddering slightly and shrugging his shoulders, - pfu!..

And why did this trash get divorced in the world? - Pavel noted. - I don’t understand, really!

Don’t scold: look, he’ll hear,” noted Ilya. There was silence again.

Look, look, guys,” Vanya’s childish voice suddenly rang out, “look at God’s stars, how the bees are swarming!”

He stuck his fresh face out from under the matting, leaned on his fist and slowly raised his large, quiet eyes upward. The eyes of all the boys rose to the sky and did not fall soon.

“And what, Vanya,” Fedya spoke affectionately, “is your sister Anyutka healthy?”

“Hey,” Vanya answered, burring slightly.

Tell her that she’s coming to us, why doesn’t she come?..

Don't know.

You tell her to go.

Tell her that I will give her a gift.

Will you give it to me?

I'll give it to you too. Vanya sighed:

Well, no, I don't need it. It’s better to give it to her: she’s so kind among us.

And Vanya again laid his head on the ground. Pavel stood up and took the empty cauldron in his hands.

Where are you going? - Fedya asked him.

To the river, to scoop up some water: I wanted to drink some water.

The dogs got up and followed him.

Be careful not to fall into the river! - Ilyusha shouted after him.

Why should he fall? - said Fedya, - he will be careful.

Yes, he'll be careful. Anything can happen: he will bend down and start scooping up water, and the merman will grab him by the hand and drag him towards him. Then they will say: the little guy fell into the water... And which one fell?.. Look, he climbed into the reeds,” he added, listening.

The reeds definitely “rustled” as they parted, as we say...

“Is it true,” asked Kostya, “that the fool Akulina has gone crazy ever since she was in the water?”

Since then... What is it like now! But they say she was a beauty before. The merman ruined her. You know, I didn’t expect her to be pulled out so soon. Here he is, there at the bottom, and ruined it.

(I myself have met this Akulina more than once. Covered in rags, terribly thin, with a coal-black face, clouded eyes and eternally bared teeth, she tramples for hours in one place, somewhere on the road, tightly pressing her bony hands to chest and slowly waddling from foot to foot, as if wild animal in a cage. She doesn’t understand anything, no matter what they say to her, and only occasionally laughs convulsively.)

“And they say,” Kostya continued, “that’s why Akulina threw herself into the river because her lover deceived her.”

From the same thing.

Do you remember Vasya? - Kostya added sadly.

What Vasya? - asked Fedya.

But the one who drowned,” Kostya answered, “in this very river.” What a boy he was! wow, what a boy he was! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, Vasya! And it was as if she sensed, Feklista, that he would die from the water. It used to be that Vasya would go with us, with the kids, to swim in the river in the summer, and she would get all excited. Other women are fine, they walk past with troughs, waddle over, and Feklista will put the trough on the ground and begin to call to him: “Come back, come back, my little light! oh, come back, falcon! And how he drowned, the Lord knows. I played on the bank, and my mother was right there, raking hay; suddenly he hears the sound of someone blowing bubbles in the water - lo and behold, only Vasya’s little hat is floating in the water. After all, since then Feklista has been out of her mind: she will come and lie down in the place where he drowned; she will lie down, my brothers, and start singing a song - remember, Vasya always sang such a song - so she begins to sing, and she cries, cries, bitterly complains to God...

"Bezhin Meadow" Vania. Artist A. Pakhomov. 1935

“But Pavlusha is coming,” said Fedya.

Pavel approached the fire with a full cauldron in his hand.

“What, guys,” he began, after a pause, “things are wrong.”

And what? - Kostya asked hastily.

What are you, what are you? - Kostya stammered.

By God. As soon as I began to bend down to the water, I suddenly heard someone calling me in Vasya’s voice and as if from under the water: “Pavlusha, Pavlusha!” I'm listening to; and he again calls: “Pavlusha, come here.” I walked away. However, he scooped up some water.

Oh, Lord! oh, Lord! - the boys said, crossing themselves.

After all, it was the merman who called you, Pavel,” added Fedya... “And we were just talking about him, about Vasya.”

“Oh, this is a bad omen,” Ilyusha said deliberately.

Well, never mind, let me go! - Pavel said decisively and sat down again, - you cannot escape your fate.

The boys quieted down. It was clear that Paul's words made a deep impression on them. They began to lay down in front of the fire, as if getting ready to sleep.

What is this? - Kostya suddenly asked, raising his head.

Pavel listened.

These are the Easter cakes flying and whistling.

Where are they going?

And where, they say, there is no winter.

Is there really such a land?

Far, far, beyond warm seas. Kostya sighed and closed his eyes.

More than three hours have already passed since I joined the boys. The moon has finally risen; I didn’t notice it right away: it was so small and narrow. This moonless night, it seemed, was still as magnificent as before... But many stars, which had recently stood high in the sky, were already leaning towards the dark edge of the earth; everything around was completely quiet, as everything usually only calms down in the morning: everything was sleeping in a deep, motionless, pre-dawn sleep. There was no longer a strong smell in the air; dampness seemed to be spreading in it again... Not for long summer nights!.. The boys' conversation faded away along with the lights... The dogs were even dozing, the horses, as far as I could discern in the slightly fading, weakly pouring light of the stars, also lay with their heads drooping... Sweet oblivion attacked me; it turned into dormancy.

A fresh stream ran across my face. I opened my eyes: the morning was beginning. The dawn had not yet blushed anywhere, but it was already turning white in the east. Everything became visible, although dimly visible, all around. The pale gray sky became lighter, colder, and bluer; the stars blinked with faint light and then disappeared; the earth became damp, the leaves began to sweat, in some places living sounds and voices began to be heard, and the liquid, early breeze had already begun to wander and flutter over the earth. My body responded to him with a light, cheerful trembling. I quickly stood up and approached the boys. They all slept like the dead around the smoldering fire; Pavel alone rose halfway and looked at me intently.

I nodded my head to him and walked home along the smoking river. Before I had gone two miles, it was already pouring all around me across a wide wet meadow, and in front along the green hills, from forest to forest, and behind me along a long dusty road, along sparkling, stained bushes, and along the river, shyly turning blue from under thinning fog - first scarlet, then red, golden streams of young, hot light poured... Everything moved, woke up, sang, rustled, spoke. Everywhere large drops of dew began to glow like radiant diamonds; the sounds of a bell came towards me, clean and clear, as if also washed by the morning cool, and suddenly a rested herd rushed past me, driven by familiar boys...

Unfortunately, I must add that Paul passed away that same year. He did not drown: he was killed by falling from his horse. It's a pity, he was a nice guy!

1 Radiant - sparkling, shining.

2 Azure - the color of azure, light blue.

3 Jagdtash - hunting bag for game.

4 Large continuous masses of bushes are called squares in the Oryol province. (Note by I. S. Turgenev.)

5 Herd drivers - owners and drivers of herds; herd - a herd of livestock that is driven for sale.

6 Rustic shirt - a shirt made of rugs (canvas).

7 Onuchi - foot wraps, wrappings for feet under boots or bast shoes.

8 The roller and scooper in paper mills is the building where paper is scooped out of vats. It is located right next to the dam, under the wheel. (Note by I. S. Turgenev.)

9 The paper workers iron and scrape the paper. (Note by I. S. Turgenev.)

10 We call a palace a place through which water flows onto a wheel. (Note by I. S. Turgenev.)

11 Form - a grid with which paper is scooped. (Note by I. S. Turgenev.)

12 Kazyuli (in Orlov) - snakes. (Note by I. S. Turgenev.)

13 Rupture-grass - by folk beliefs, V folk tales a magical herb that can be used to open any locks or constipation.

14 Parents' Saturday- one of the Saturdays in October, which, according to the old Russian custom, was dedicated to the commemoration of deceased relatives.

15 This is what our men call it: solar eclipse. (Note by I. S. Turgenev.)

16 The belief about “Trishka” was probably inspired by the legend about the Antichrist. (Note by I. S. Turgenev.)

17 Sugibel - a sharp turn in the ravine. (Note by I. S. Turgenev.)

18 Buchila - deep hole with spring water remaining after the flood, which does not dry out even in summer. (Note by I. S. Turgenev.)

Adjective

Analysis of the excerpt by I. S. Turgenev “Bezhin Meadow”

Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev loved his native nature very much. In it he saw the guarantee of the future of his homeland. For the writer native nature- the personification of a vigorous, healthy, lively beginning in life. Read excerpts from I.S. Turgenev’s story “Bezhin Meadow.” Listen to the poetic lines describing the picture of a summer day.

BEZHIN LUG

Was wonderfulJuly day, one of those days that only happens when the weather has settled for a long time. From early morning the sky is clear; The morning dawn does not burn with fire: it spreads with a gentle blush. The sun - not fiery, not hot, as during a sultry drought, not dull purple, as before a storm, but bright and welcomingly radiant - floats up peacefully under a narrow and long cloud, shines freshly and plunges into its purple fog. The upper, thin edge of the stretched cloud will sparkle with snakes; their shine is like the shine of forged silver... But then the playing rays poured out again, and the mighty luminary rose cheerfully and majestically, as if taking off. Around noon there usually appear many round high clouds, golden-gray, with delicate white edges. Like islands scattered along an endlessly overflowing river, flowing around them with deeply transparent branches of even blue, they hardly move from their place; further, towards the horizon, they move, crowd together, the blue between them is no longer visible; but they themselves are as azure as the sky: they are all thoroughly imbued with light and warmth. The color of the sky, light, pale lilac, does not change throughout the day and is the same all around; It doesn’t get dark anywhere, the thunderstorm doesn’t thicken; unless here and there bluish stripes stretch from top to bottom: then barely noticeable rain is falling. By evening these clouds disappear; the last of them, blackish and vague, like smoke, lie in pink clouds opposite the setting sun; at the place where it set as calmly as it calmly rose into the sky, a scarlet glow stands for a short time over the darkened earth, and, quietly blinking, like a carefully carried candle, the evening star glows on it. On days like these, the colors are all softened; light, but not bright; everything bears the stamp of some touching meekness. On such days, the heat is sometimes very strong, sometimes even “soaring” along the slopes of the fields; but the wind disperses, pushes apart the accumulated heat, and the vortex-gyres - an undoubted sign of constant weather - walk in tall white pillars along the roads through the arable land. The dry and clean air smells of wormwood, compressed rye, and buckwheat; even an hour before night you do not feel damp. The farmer wishes for similar weather for harvesting grain...

Let's repeat

Epithet - this is an artistic definition that gives the expression imagery and emotionality (golden streams, living sounds, pure and clear sounds, a smoking river).

Metaphor is a word or expression used in figurative meaning, based on similarity (large drops of dew glowed like radiant diamonds, streams of light flowed).

Personification - this is animation inanimate nature(a stream ran through, the leaves fogged up, the breeze began to wander and flutter, sounds came bells).

Inversion - violation direct order words (the earth became damp, the leaves began to sweat, streams flowed, drops glowed).

Comparison, expressed by a noun in the instrumental case(indirect): radiantdiamonds The dew drops began to glow.

Test

A basic level of

1. I.S. Turgenev’s nature is alive, spiritual, and man is inextricably linked with it.

What helps a writer create an image of living nature?

Artistic means of language

pictures of nature

descriptions

story

2. In which answer option can all words be used to characterize the July day?

Clear, sunny, hot

rainy, warm, dim,

light, radiant, cloudy

sultry, long, difficult

3 .What type of speech predominates in the text?

Description

narration

reasoning

description and reasoning

4. Define main idea text.

The artist vividly expressed the feeling of love for his homeland and its nature

It was a beautiful July day

The farmer desires similar weather for harvesting grain.

The sky is clear from early morning

5. How artistic medium language used by I.S. Turgenev: “clouds, like smoke, fall in clouds”

Comparison

epithet

metaphor

inversion

6. Find an avatar

The sun rises peacefully

mighty luminary

golden gray clouds

as if taking off

Increased level

7. Which sentence is connected with the previous one using lexical repetition.

On such days, the heat is sometimes quite strong, sometimes even “soaring” along the slopes of the fields…

The dry and clean air smells of wormwood, compressed rye, buckwheat...

By evening these clouds disappear...

The color of the sky, light, pale lilac, does not change throughout the day and is the same all around...

8. Indicate the meaning of the highlighted word “ then a barely noticeable rain SOWS.”

Going

dripping

crumbles

pours out

9. Determine the sequence of changing events in the pictures of nature

The clouds disappear, the star glows, the colors soften

the heat is intense, there are many clouds, the sky is clear

the wind accelerates, clouds appear, it smells of wormwood

the whirlwinds are swirling, the clouds are moving, you don’t feel the dampness

Ivan Turgenev's story about nature for middle-aged children school age. A story about summer, oh summer weather, about the rain.

BEZHIN LUG (excerpt)

It was a beautiful July day, one of those days that only happen when the weather has settled for a long time. From early morning the sky is clear; The morning dawn does not burn with fire: it spreads with a gentle blush. The sun - not fiery, not hot, as during a sultry drought, not dull crimson, as before a storm, but bright and welcomingly radiant - floats up peacefully under a narrow and long cloud, shines freshly and plunges into its purple fog. The upper, thin edge of the stretched cloud will sparkle with snakes; their brilliance is like the brilliance of forged silver... But then again the playing rays gushed out, and the mighty luminary rises both cheerfully and majestically, as if taking off. Around noon there usually appear many round high clouds, golden-gray, with delicate white edges. Like islands scattered along an endlessly overflowing river, flowing around them with deeply transparent branches of even blue, they hardly move from their place; further, towards the horizon, they move, crowd together, the blue between them is no longer visible; but they themselves are as azure as the sky: they are all thoroughly imbued with light and warmth. The color of the sky, light, pale lilac, does not change throughout the day and is the same all around; It doesn’t get dark anywhere, the thunderstorm doesn’t thicken; unless here and there bluish stripes stretch from top to bottom: then barely noticeable rain is falling. By evening these clouds disappear; the last of them, blackish and vague, like smoke, lie in pink clouds opposite the setting sun; at the place where it set as calmly as it calmly rose into the sky, the scarlet glow stands for a short time over the darkened earth, and, quietly blinking, like a carefully carried candle, the evening star glows on it. On days like these, the colors are all softened; light, but not bright; everything bears the stamp of some touching meekness. On such days, the heat is sometimes very strong, sometimes even “soaring” along the slopes of the fields; but the wind disperses, pushes apart the accumulated heat, and whirlwind vortices - an undoubted sign of constant weather - walk in tall white columns along the roads through the arable land. The dry and clean air smells of wormwood, compressed rye, and buckwheat; even an hour before night you do not feel damp. The farmer wishes for similar weather for harvesting grain...

On just such a day I was once hunting for black grouse in the Chernsky district of the Tula province. I found and shot quite a lot of game; the filled bag was mercilessly cutting my shoulder, but the evening dawn was already fading, and in the air, still bright, although no longer illuminated by the rays of the setting sun, cold shadows began to thicken and spread when I finally decided to return to my home. With quick steps I walked through a long “square” of bushes, climbed a hill and, instead of the expected familiar plain with an oak forest to the right and a low white church in the distance, I saw completely different, unknown places. At my feet stretched a narrow valley; directly opposite, a dense aspen tree rose like a steep wall. I stopped in bewilderment, looked around... “Hey! — I thought, “Yes, I ended up in the wrong place at all: I took it too far to the right,” and, marveling at my mistake, I quickly went down the hill. I was immediately overcome by an unpleasant, motionless dampness, as if I had entered a cellar; the thick tall grass at the bottom of the valley, all wet, turned white like an even tablecloth; it was somehow creepy to walk on it. I quickly climbed out to the other side and walked, turning to the left, along the aspen tree. Bats were already flying over its sleeping tops, mysteriously circling and trembling in the vaguely clear sky; A belated hawk flew briskly and straight overhead, hurrying to its nest. “As soon as I get to that corner,” I thought to myself, “there will be a road right here, but I gave a detour a mile away!”

I finally reached the corner of the forest, but there was no road there: some uncut, low bushes spread wide in front of me, and behind them a deserted field could be seen far, far away. I stopped again. “What kind of parable?.. But where am I?” I began to remember how and where I went during the day... “Eh! Yes, these are Parakhin bushes! - I finally exclaimed, - exactly! this must be the Sindeevskaya Grove... How did I come here? So far?.. Strange! Now we need to take the right again.”

I went to the right, through the bushes. Meanwhile, the night was approaching and growing like a thundercloud; It seemed that, along with the evening vapors, darkness was rising from everywhere and even pouring from above. I came across some kind of unmarked, overgrown path; I walked along it, carefully looking ahead. Everything around quickly turned black and died down, only the quails screamed occasionally. A small night bird, silently and low rushing on its soft wings, almost stumbled upon me and timidly dived to the side. I went out to the edge of the bushes and wandered across the field. I was already having difficulty distinguishing distant objects; the field was vaguely white around; behind it, looming in huge clouds every moment, rose the gloomy darkness. My steps echoed dully in the frozen air. The pale sky began to turn blue again - but it was already the blue of night. The stars flickered and moved on it.

What I had taken for a grove turned out to be a dark and round mound. “Where am I?” - I repeated again out loud, stopped for the third time and looked questioningly at my English yellow-piebald dog Dianka, decidedly the smartest of all four-legged creatures. But the smartest of the four-legged creatures only wagged her tail, blinked her tired eyes sadly and did not give me any practical advice. I felt ashamed of her, and I desperately rushed forward, as if I had suddenly guessed where I should go, went around the hill and found myself in a shallow, plowed-out ravine all around. A strange feeling immediately took possession of me. This hollow had the appearance of an almost regular cauldron with gentle sides; at the bottom of it stood several large white stones standing upright - it seemed that they had crawled there for a secret meeting - and it was so mute and dull in it, the sky hung so flat, so sadly above it that my heart sank. Some animal squeaked weakly and pitifully between the stones. I hurried to get back onto the hill. Until now I still had not lost hope of finding my way home; but then I was finally convinced that I was completely lost, and, no longer trying at all to recognize the surrounding places, which were almost completely drowned in darkness, I walked straight, following the stars - at random... I walked like this for about half an hour, with difficulty moving my legs. It seemed like I had never been in such empty places in my life: no lights flickered anywhere, no sound was heard. One gentle hill gave way to another, fields stretched endlessly after fields, bushes seemed to suddenly rise out of the ground right in front of my nose. I kept walking and was about to lie down somewhere until the morning, when suddenly I found myself over a terrible abyss.

I quickly pulled back my raised leg and, through the barely transparent darkness of the night, I saw a huge plain far below me. A wide river went around it in a semicircle leaving me. The hill I was on suddenly descended almost vertically; its huge outlines were separated, turning black, from the bluish airy void, and right below me, in the corner formed by that cliff and plain, near the river, which in this place stood as a motionless, dark mirror, under the very steep hill, each other burned and smoked with a red flame there are two lights near the friend. People swarmed around them, shadows wavered, sometimes the front half of a small curly head was brightly illuminated...

I finally found out where I had gone. This meadow is famous in our neighborhoods under the name Bezhina Meadow... But there was no way to return home, especially at night; my legs gave way beneath me from fatigue. I decided to approach the lights and, in the company of those people whom I took to be the herd workers, wait for dawn. I safely went down, but did not have time to let go of the last branch I had grabbed from my hands, when suddenly two large, white, shaggy dogs rushed at me with an angry bark. Children's clear voices were heard around the lights; two or three boys quickly rose from the ground. I responded to their questioning cries. They ran up to me, immediately called back the dogs, who were especially struck by the appearance of my Dianka, and I approached them.

I was mistaken in mistaking the people sitting around those lights for the herd workers. They were simply peasant children from a neighboring village who were guarding the herd. In the hot summer, our horses are driven out to feed in the field at night: during the day, flies and gadflies would not give them rest. Driving out the herd before the evening and bringing in the herd at dawn is a big holiday for peasant boys. Sitting without hats and in old sheepskin coats on the most lively nags, they rush with a cheerful whoop and scream, dangling their arms and legs, jumping high, laughing loudly. Light dust rises in a yellow column and rushes along the road; A friendly stomp can be heard far away, the horses run with their ears pricked up; in front of everyone, with his tail raised and constantly changing his legs, gallops some red-haired cosmach, with burrs in his tangled mane.

I told the boys that I was lost and sat down with them. They asked me where I was from, remained silent, and stood aside. We talked a little. I lay down under a gnawed bush and began to look around. The picture was wonderful: near the lights, a round reddish reflection trembled and seemed to freeze, resting against the darkness; the flame, flaring up, occasionally threw quick reflections beyond the line of that circle; a thin tongue of light will lick the bare branches of the vine and disappear at once; Sharp, long shadows, rushing in for a moment, in turn reached the very lights: darkness fought with light. Sometimes, when the flame burned weaker and the circle of light narrowed, a horse’s head, bay, with a winding groove, or all white, would suddenly stick out from the approaching darkness, looking at us attentively and stupidly, nimbly chewing long grass, and, lowering itself again, immediately disappeared. You could only hear her continue to chew and snort. From an illuminated place it is difficult to see what is happening in the darkness, and therefore everything up close seemed covered with an almost black curtain; but further towards the horizon, hills and forests were vaguely visible in long spots. The dark, clear sky stood solemnly and immensely high above us with all its mysterious splendor. My chest felt sweetly ashamed, inhaling that special, languid and fresh smell - the smell of a Russian summer night. Almost no noise was heard all around... Only occasionally in the nearby river a large fish would splash with sudden sonority and the coastal reeds would rustle faintly, barely shaken by the oncoming wave... Only the lights crackled quietly.

The boys sat around them; Sitting right there were the two dogs who so wanted to eat me. For a long time they could not come to terms with my presence and, drowsily squinting and squinting at the fire, occasionally growled with an extraordinary sense of self-esteem; At first they growled, and then squealed slightly, as if regretting the impossibility of fulfilling their desire. There were five boys: Fedya, Pavlusha, Ilyusha, Kostya and Vanya. (From their conversations I learned their names and now intend to introduce them to the reader.)

The first, the eldest of all, Fedya, you would give about fourteen years. He was a slender boy, with beautiful and delicate, slightly small features, curly blond hair, light eyes and a constant, half-cheerful, half-absent-minded smile. He belonged, by all accounts, to a rich family and went out into the field not out of necessity, but just for fun. He was wearing a motley cotton shirt with a yellow border; a small new army jacket, worn saddle-back, barely rested on his narrow shoulders; A comb hung from a blue belt. His boots with low tops were just like his boots—not his father’s. The second boy, Pavlusha, had tousled black hair, gray eyes, wide cheekbones, a pale, pockmarked face, a large but regular mouth, a huge head, as they say, the size of a beer cauldron, a squat, awkward body. The guy was unprepossessing - needless to say! - but still, I liked him: he looked very smart and direct, and there was strength in his voice. He could not flaunt his clothes: they all consisted of a simple, dirty shirt and patched ports. The face of the third, Ilyusha, was rather insignificant: hook-nosed, elongated, blind, it expressed a kind of dull, painful solicitude; his compressed lips did not move, his knitted eyebrows did not move apart - it was as if he was squinting from the fire. His yellow, almost white hair stuck out in sharp braids from under a low felt cap, which he pulled over his ears every now and then with both hands. He was wearing new bast shoes and onuchi; a thick rope, twisted three times around the waist, carefully tied his neat black scroll. Both he and Pavlusha looked no more than twelve years old. The fourth, Kostya, a boy of about ten, aroused my curiosity with his thoughtful and sad gaze. His whole face was small, thin, freckled, pointed downward, like a squirrel’s; lips could barely be distinguished; but his large, black eyes, shining with a liquid brilliance, made a strange impression; they seemed to want to express something for which the language, at least in his language, had no words. He was short, frail in build, and dressed rather poorly. The last one, Vanya, I didn’t even notice at first: he was lying on the ground, quietly huddled under the angular matting, and only occasionally stuck his light brown curly head out from under it. This boy was only seven years old.

So, I lay under a bush to the side and looked at the boys. A small cauldron hung over one of the lights; “potatoes” were boiled in it. Pavlusha watched him and, kneeling, poked a sliver of wood into the boiling water. Fedya lay leaning on his elbow and spreading the tails of his overcoat. Ilyusha sat next to Kostya and still squinted intensely. Kostya lowered his head a little and looked somewhere into the distance. Vanya did not move under his matting. I pretended to be asleep. Little by little the boys started talking again.

They chattered about this and that, about tomorrow's work, about horses...

More than three hours have already passed since I joined the boys. The moon has finally risen; I didn’t notice it right away: it was so small and narrow. This moonless night, it seemed, was still as magnificent as before... But many stars, which had recently stood high in the sky, were already leaning towards the dark edge of the earth; everything around was completely quiet, as everything usually only calms down in the morning: everything was sleeping in a deep, motionless, pre-dawn sleep. There was no longer such a strong smell in the air; dampness seemed to be spreading in it again... The summer nights were short!.. The boys' conversation faded away along with the lights... The dogs even dozed; the horses, as far as I could discern, in the slightly fading, weakly pouring light of the stars, also lay with their heads bowed... A faint oblivion attacked me; it turned into dormancy.

A fresh stream ran across my face. I opened my eyes: the morning was beginning. The dawn had not yet blushed anywhere, but it was already turning white in the east. Everything became visible, although dimly visible, all around. The pale gray sky became lighter, colder, and bluer; the stars blinked with faint light and then disappeared; the earth became damp, the leaves began to sweat, in some places living sounds and voices began to be heard, and the liquid, early breeze had already begun to wander and flutter over the earth. My body responded to him with a light, cheerful trembling. I quickly stood up and went to the boys. They all slept like the dead around the smoldering fire; Pavel alone rose halfway and looked at me intently.

Reasoning about the text is primarily related to the determination of its properties such as articulation and coherence. Let us turn to the analysis of these properties in a specific text.

It was a beautiful July day, one of those days that only happen when the weather has settled for a long time. From early morning the sky is clear; the morning dawn does not burn with fire; she bursts into a gentle blush. The sun - not fiery, not hot, as during a sultry drought, not dull purple, as before a storm, but bright and welcomingly radiant - floats up peacefully under a narrow and long cloud, shines freshly and plunges into its purple fog. The upper edge of the stretched cloud will sparkle with snakes; their shine is like the shine of forged silver... But then the playing rays poured out again, and the mighty luminary rose cheerfully and majestically, as if taking off. Around noon there usually appear many round high clouds, golden-gray, with delicate white edges. Like islands scattered along an endlessly overflowing river, flowing around them with deeply transparent branches of even blue, they hardly move from their place; further, towards the horizon, they move, crowd together, the blue between them is no longer visible; but they themselves are as azure as the sky: they are all thoroughly imbued with light and warmth. The color of the sky, light, pale lilac, does not change throughout the day and is the same all around; It doesn’t get dark anywhere, the thunderstorm doesn’t thicken; unless here and there bluish stripes stretch from top to bottom: then barely noticeable rain is falling. By evening these clouds disappear; the last of them, blackish and vague, like smoke, lie in pink clouds opposite the setting sun; at the place where it set as calmly as it calmly rose into the sky, a scarlet glow stands for a short time over the darkened earth, and, quietly blinking, like a carefully carried candle, the evening star glows on it. On days like these, the colors are all softened; light, but not bright; everything bears the stamp of some touching meekness. On such days, the heat is sometimes very strong, sometimes even “soaring” along the slopes of the fields; but the wind disperses, pushes apart the accumulated heat, and the vortex-gyres - an undoubted sign of constant weather - walk in tall white pillars along the roads through the arable land. The dry and clean air smells of wormwood, compressed rye, and buckwheat; even an hour before night you do not feel damp. The farmer wishes for similar weather for harvesting grain... (I.S. Turgenev “Bezhin Meadow”)

At the first stage of analysis, it is necessary to determine the topic of the text, highlight the semantic parts - complex syntactic wholes (sentences connected by a single micro-theme).

This fragment represents a relatively complete unity in semantic, grammatical, and intonation terms. The text is presented in the form of 1 paragraph, including 4 semantic parts. The first sentence sets the theme of the entire text (“A beautiful July day”), which develops in the following parts.

The first semantic part (SSTS I - 2-5 sentences) reveals the micro-theme “Morning”. The microtheme of the second semantic part (SSTS II - 6-8 sentences) is “Noon”. The third semantic part is 1 difficult sentence and reveals the micro-theme “Evening”. The fourth part (SSTS III - 10-13 sentences) describes general state environment on such July days.

The last semantic part is a generalization of all the signs of “constant weather” and includes a description of the colors of the day, temperature and smells, reflects different sides human perception of nature. This description brings us back to the theme of the text set in the first sentence (“ring composition”).

Let's highlight keywords text that reveals its topic. Let's consider the means of connecting sentences in the text (lexical, figurative, grammatical). The coherence of the text can be achieved through lexical, thematic and synonymous repetition, pronominal replacement, at the grammatical level - repetition of conjunctions, the ratio of types of tense forms of the verb, use participial phrases, syntactic parallelism, sentence incompleteness, etc.

A figurative connection involves identifying figurative, metaphorical and cultural associations. It is possible to establish a connection at the phonetic level (sound repetitions) and word formation (repetition of morphemes). Let us demonstrate the possibilities of such analysis using the example of this fragment of text.

Golovkina S.Kh., Smolnikov S.N.
Linguistic text analysis - Vologda, 2006.

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