Little stories of Russian classics. Short Story Evening

Stories of the classics - classical prose about love, romance and lyrics, humor and sadness in the stories of recognized masters of the genre.

Antonio was young and proud. He did not want to obey his older brother, Marco, although he was supposed to eventually become the ruler of the entire kingdom. Then the angry old king expelled Antonio from the state as a rebel. Antonio could have taken refuge with his influential friends and waited out the time of his father’s disgrace, or retired overseas to his mother’s relatives, but his pride did not allow him to do this. Dressed in a modest dress and taking neither jewelry nor money with him, Antonio quietly left the palace and intervened in the crowd. The capital was a trading and seaside city; its streets were always bustling with people, but Antonio did not wander aimlessly for long: he remembered that he now had to earn his own food. In order not to be recognized, he decided to choose the most menial labor, went to the pier and asked the porters to accept him as a comrade. They agreed, and Antonio immediately got to work. Until the evening he carried boxes and bales and only after sunset he went with his comrades to rest.

I'm amazingly lucky! If my rings had not been sold, I would have deliberately thrown one of them into the water as a test, and if we were still catching fish, and if this fish was given to us to eat, then I would certainly find a thrown ring in it. In a word - the happiness of Polycrates. How best example extraordinary luck, I’ll tell you my story about the search. I must tell you, we were ready for the search a long time ago. Not because we felt or recognized ourselves as criminals, but simply because all our friends had already been searched, and why we were worse than others.

We waited a long time - we even got tired. The fact is that they usually came to search at night, around three o'clock, and we set up a watch - one night the husband did not sleep, the other the aunt, the third I did. It’s unpleasant if everyone is in bed, there’s no one dear guests meet and engage in conversation while everyone gets dressed.

Molton Chase is a charming old estate where the Clayton family has lived for hundreds of years. Its current owner, Harry Clayton, is rich, and since he is only enjoying the pleasures of married life for five years and has not yet received bills from college and school for Christmas, he wants the house to be constantly full of guests. He receives each of them with cordial and sincere cordiality.

December, Christmas Eve. The family and guests gathered at the dinner table.

- Bella! Would you like to take part in a horseback ride this afternoon? - Harry turned to his wife sitting opposite him.

Bella Clayton, a small woman with dimples and a simple-minded expression on her face to match her husband, immediately answered:

- No, Harry! Not today, darling. You know that before seven in the evening the Damers can arrive at any minute, and I wouldn’t want to leave the house without meeting them.

“Is it possible to find out, Mrs. Clayton, who exactly these Damers are, whose arrival is depriving us of your dear company today?” - inquired Captain Moss, a friend of her husband, who, like many handsome men He considered himself entitled to also be immodest.

But touchiness was least of all characteristic of Bella Clayton's nature.

“The Damers are my relatives, Captain Moss,” she answered, “at least Blanche Damer is my cousin.”

The dacha was tiny - two rooms and a kitchen. The mother grumbled in the rooms, the cook in the kitchen, and since Katenka served as the object of grumbling for both, there was no way for this Katenka to stay at home, and she sat all day in the garden on a rocking bench. Katenka's mother, a poor but ignoble widow, spent the whole winter sewing ladies' dresses and even entrance doors I nailed the plaque “Madame Paraskova, fashion and dresses.” In the summer she rested and raised her high school student daughter through reproaches of ingratitude. The cook Daria became arrogant a long time ago, about ten years ago, and in all of nature there has still not been a creature who could put her in her place.

Katenka sits on her rocking chair and dreams “about him.” In a year she will be sixteen years old, then it will be possible to get married without the metropolitan’s permission. But who should I marry, that’s the question?

It should be noted that this story is not overly funny.

Sometimes there are such unfunny topics taken from life. There was some kind of fight, scuffle, or property was stolen.

Or, for example, as in this story. The story of how one intelligent lady drowned. So to speak, you can get a little laugh out of this fact.

Although, it must be said that in this story there will be some funny situations. You'll see for yourself.

Of course I wouldn't make it difficult modern reader such a not very bravura story, but very, you know, a responsible modern topic. About materialism and love.

In a word, this is a story about how one day, through an accident, it finally became clear that all mysticism, all idealism, all kinds of unearthly love, and so on and so forth are pure nonsense and nonsense.

And that in life only a real material approach is valid and, unfortunately, nothing more.

Maybe this will seem too sad to some backward intellectuals and academicians, maybe they will whine back over it, but, having whined, let them look at their past life and then they will see how much extra they have piled on themselves.

So, allow the old, crude materialist, who after this story finally put an end to many sublime things, tell this very story. And let me apologize once again if there is not as much laughter as we would like.

Sultan Mohammed II the Conqueror, conqueror of two empires, fourteen kingdoms and two hundred cities, swore that he would feed his horse oats on the altar of St. Peter in Rome. The Grand Vizier of the Sultan, Ahmet Pasha, sailed with a strong army across the strait, besieged the city of Otranto from land and sea and took it by storm on June 26, in the year from the incarnation of the Word 1480. The victors did not know how to restrain their fury: they sawed the commander of the troops with a saw, Messer Francesco Largo, many of the inhabitants who were able to bear arms were killed, the archbishop, priests and monks were subjected to all kinds of humiliation in churches, and noble ladies and girls were deprived of their honor by force.

The Grand Vizier himself wished to take Francesco Largo's daughter, the beautiful Julia, into his harem. But the proud Neapolitan woman did not agree to become the concubine of an infidel. She met the Turk, on his first visit, with such insults that he became inflamed against her terrible anger. Of course, Ahmet Pasha could have overcome the resistance of the weak girl by force, but he chose to take revenge on her more cruelly and ordered her to be thrown into the city underground prison. The Neapolitan rulers threw only notorious murderers and the worst villains into this prison, for whom they wanted to find a punishment worse than death.

Julia, bound hand and foot with thick ropes, was brought to the prison in a closed stretcher, since even the Turks could not help but show her some honor due to her birth and position. She was dragged down a narrow and dirty staircase into the depths of the prison and chained to the wall with an iron chain. Julia was still wearing a luxurious dress made of Lyon silk, but all the jewelry she was wearing was torn off: gold rings and bracelets, a pearl tiara and diamond earrings. Someone also took off her morocco oriental shoes, so that Julia found herself barefoot.

In five days the world was created.

“And God saw that it was good,” the Bible says.

He saw what was good and created man.

For what? - one asks.

Nevertheless, he created it.

This is where it started. God sees “what is good,” but man immediately saw what was wrong. And this is not good, and this is wrong, and why are there covenants and what are prohibitions for.

And there - everyone knows sad story with apple. A man ate an apple and blamed it on the snake. He allegedly incited. A technique that has lived for many centuries and has survived to our time: if a person smokes mischief, his friends are always to blame for everything.

But it is not the fate of man that interests us now, but precisely the question - why was he created? Is it not because the universe, like any other piece of art, needed criticism?

Of course, not everything in this universe is perfect. There's a lot of nonsense. Why, for example, does a blade of meadow grass have twelve varieties and all are of no use? And the cow will come and take it with its wide tongue and eat all twelve.

And why does a person need a process of the cecum, which must be removed as soon as possible?

- Oh well! - they will say. -You are talking frivolously. This vermiform appendage indicates that a person once...

I don’t remember what it testifies to, but probably about some completely unflattering thing: belonging to a certain genus of monkeys or some South Asian water cuttlefish. It’s better not to testify. Vermiform! What a disgusting thing! But it was created.

From her lounge chair, Mrs. Hamlin watched the passengers climb up the ramp. The ship arrived in Singapore at night, and loading began at dawn: the winches were straining all day, but having become familiar, their incessant creaking no longer hurt the ears. She had breakfast at “Europe” and, to pass the time, got into a rickshaw and drove along the elegant streets of the city teeming with diverse people. Singapore is a place of great crowds of peoples. There are few Malays, the true sons of this land, here, but there are apparently invisibly obsequious, agile and diligent Chinese; dark-skinned Tamils silently move their bare feet, as if they feel like strangers and random people here, but well-groomed rich Bengalis feel great in their neighborhoods and are filled with self-satisfaction; the obsequious and cunning Japanese are absorbed in some of their hasty and apparently shady affairs, and only the British, with white helmets and canvas trousers, flying in their cars and freely sitting on rickshaws, are carefree and at ease in appearance. With smiling indifference the rulers of this swarming crowd bear the burden of their power. Tired of the city and the heat, Mrs. Hamlin waited for the ship to continue its long journey across the Indian Ocean.

Seeing Doctor and Mrs. Linsell coming up on deck, she waved to them - she had a large palm, and she herself was large and tall. From Yokohama, where her current voyage began, she watched with unkind curiosity how quickly the intimacy of this couple grew. Linsell was naval officer, assigned to the British Embassy in Tokyo, and the indifference with which he looked at the doctor flirting with his wife made Mrs. Hamlin perplexed. Two new girls were coming up the stairs, and to amuse themselves, she began to guess whether they were married or single. Near her, pushing wicker chairs together, sat a group of men—planters, she thought, looking at their khaki suits and wide-brimmed felt hats; the steward was overwhelmed, carrying out their orders. They were talking and laughing too loudly, because they had poured enough alcohol into themselves to fall into some kind of stupid excitement; it was clearly a farewell, but whose, Mrs. Hamlin could not understand. There were only a few minutes left before departure. The passengers kept arriving and arriving, and finally Mr. Jephson, the consul, walked majestically along the gangplank; he was going on vacation. He boarded the ship in Shanghai and immediately began to court Mrs. Hamlin, but she did not have the slightest inclination to flirt. Remembering what was now driving her to Europe, she frowned. She wanted to spend Christmas at sea, away from everyone who cared about her in the least. The thought instantly made her heart ache, but she was immediately angry with herself that a memory she had resolutely banished was once again stirring up her reluctant mind.

At liberty, boy, at liberty! On your own, boy, on your own!

Novgorod song

- Summer has come.

- Here comes spring. May. Spring.

You can't make out anything here. Spring? Summer? It’s hot, stuffy, then - rain, snow, the stoves are turned on. It's stuffy and hot again.

It wasn't like that with us. For us, our northern spring was an event.

The sky, air, earth, trees changed.

All the secret forces, the secret juices accumulated over the winter, were rushing to the surface.

Animals roared, animals growled, the air rustled with wings. High up, right under the clouds, in a triangle, like a heart soaring above the ground, the cranes were flying. The river rang with ice floes. Streams gurgled and gurgled along the ravines. The whole earth trembled in the light, in the ringing, in rustles, whispers, screams.

And the nights did not bring peace, did not cover my eyes with peaceful darkness. The day grew dim and pink, but did not go away.

And people wandered about, pale, languid, wandering, listening, like poets looking for a rhyme to an already emerging image.

It became difficult to live an ordinary life.

At the beginning of this century it happened an important event: a son was born to court councilor Ivan Mironovich Zaedin. When the first impulses of parental delight passed and the mother’s strength was somewhat restored, which happened very soon, Ivan Mironovich asked his wife:

- What, darling, what do you think, the young fellow will probably be just like me?

- How wrong it is! And God forbid!

- What, isn’t that... am I good, Sofya Markovna?

- Good, but unhappy! You keep going separately; You don’t have any worries: seven arshins of cloth goes into a tailcoat!

- So they added it. Why do you feel sorry for the cloth, or what? Eh, Sofya Markovna! If you weren't the one speaking, I wouldn't be listening!

— I wanted to make a vest from my katsaveyka: where to go! It doesn’t work out in half... Eka, the grace of God! If only you walked around more, Ivan Mironovich: it will soon be a shame to appear in public with you!

“What’s reprehensible here, Sofya Markovna?” So I go to the department every day and I don’t see any harm to myself: everyone looks at me with respect.

- They laugh at you, but you don’t even have the sense to understand! And you also want others to be like you!

- Really, darling, you are sophisticated: what’s surprising if the son looks like his father?

- Will not be!

- It will be, darling. Now the little one is like that... Again, take the nose... one might say, the most important thing in a person.

- Why are you poking around here? He is my birth.

- And mine too; you'll see.

Here mutual arguments and refutations began, which ended in a quarrel. Ivan Mironovich spoke with such fervor that the upper part of his huge belly began to sway like a stagnant swamp that had been accidentally shaken. Since it was still impossible to make out anything on the newborn’s face, having calmed down somewhat, the parents decided to wait for the most convenient time to resolve the dispute and made the following bet: if the son, who was supposed to be named Dmitry, looks like his father, then the father has the right to raise his sole discretion, and the wife does not have the right to have the slightest interference in this matter, and vice versa, if the gain is on the side of the mother...

“You will be embarrassed, darling, I know in advance that you will be embarrassed; better refuse... take your nose,” said the court councilor, “but I’m so sure that I’ll probably write our condition on stamped paper and declare it in the chamber, really.”

- They also figured out what to spend the money on; Eh, Ivan Mironovich, God did not give you sound reasoning, and you are also reading “The Northern Bee”.

- You won’t please, Sofya Markovna. Let's see what you say, how I will raise Mitenka.

- You won't!

- But we’ll see!

- You'll see!

A few days later, Mitenka was given a formal examination in the presence of several relatives and friends at home.

“He doesn’t look one iota like you, darling!”

- He is like the sky from you, Ivan Mironovich!

Both exclamations came out at the same time from the lips of the spouses and were confirmed by those present. In fact, Mitenka did not at all resemble either his father or his mother.

Stories by classics - classic prose about love, romance and lyrics, humor and sadness in the stories of recognized masters of the genre.

I'm amazingly lucky! If my rings had not been sold, I would have deliberately thrown one of them into the water as a test, and if we were still catching fish, and if this fish was given to us to eat, then I would certainly find a thrown ring in it. In a word - the happiness of Polycrates. As the best example of extraordinary luck, I’ll tell you my story about the search. I must tell you, we were ready for the search a long time ago. Not because we felt or recognized ourselves as criminals, but simply because all our friends had already been searched, and why we were worse than others.

We waited a long time - we even got tired. The fact is that they usually came to search at night, around three o'clock, and we set up a watch - one night the husband did not sleep, the other the aunt, the third I did. Otherwise, it’s unpleasant if everyone is in bed, there is no one to greet dear guests and engage in conversation while everyone gets dressed.

December, Christmas Eve. The family and guests gathered at the dinner table.

- Bella! Would you like to take part in a horseback ride this afternoon? - Harry turned to his wife sitting opposite him.

Bella Clayton, a small woman with dimples and a simple-minded expression on her face to match her husband, immediately answered:

- No, Harry! Not today, darling. You know that before seven in the evening the Damers can arrive at any minute, and I wouldn’t want to leave the house without meeting them.

But touchiness was least of all characteristic of Bella Clayton's nature.

“The Damers are my relatives, Captain Moss,” she answered, “at least Blanche Damer is my cousin.”

The dacha was tiny - two rooms and a kitchen. The mother grumbled in the rooms, the cook in the kitchen, and since Katenka served as the object of grumbling for both, there was no way for this Katenka to stay at home, and she sat all day in the garden on a rocking bench. Katenka’s mother, a poor but ignoble widow, spent the entire winter sewing ladies’ dresses and even nailed a plaque on the front door reading “Madame Paraskova, fashions and dresses.” In the summer she rested and raised her high school student daughter through reproaches of ingratitude. The cook Daria became arrogant a long time ago, about ten years ago, and in all of nature there has still not been a creature who could put her in her place.

It should be noted that this story is not overly funny.

Sometimes there are such unfunny topics taken from life. There was some kind of fight, scuffle, or property was stolen.

Or, for example, as in this story. The story of how one intelligent lady drowned. So to speak, you can get a little laugh out of this fact.

Although, it must be said that in this story there will be some funny situations. You'll see for yourself.

Of course, I would not bother the modern reader with such a not very bravura story, but, you know, this is a very important modern topic. About materialism and love.

And that in life only a real material approach is valid and, unfortunately, nothing more.

Maybe this will seem too sad to some backward intellectuals and academics, maybe they will whine back over it, but, having whined, let them look back at their past life and then they will see how much extra they have piled on themselves.

The Grand Vizier himself wished to take Francesco Largo's daughter, the beautiful Julia, into his harem. But the proud Neapolitan woman did not agree to become the concubine of an infidel. She met the Turk, on his first visit, with such insults that he was inflamed with terrible anger against her. Of course, Ahmet Pasha could have overcome the resistance of the weak girl by force, but he chose to take revenge on her more cruelly and ordered her to be thrown into the city underground prison. The Neapolitan rulers threw only notorious murderers and the worst villains into this prison, for whom they wanted to find a punishment worse than death.

In five days the world was created.

“And God saw that it was good,” the Bible says.

He saw what was good and created man.

For what? - one asks.

Nevertheless, he created it.

This is where it started. God sees “what is good,” but man immediately saw what was wrong. And this is not good, and this is wrong, and why are there covenants and what are prohibitions for.

And there is the well-known sad story with the apple. A man ate an apple and blamed it on the snake. He allegedly incited. A technique that has lived for many centuries and has survived to our time: if a person smokes mischief, his friends are always to blame for everything.

But it is not the fate of man that interests us now, but precisely the question - why was he created? Is it because the universe, like any work of art, needed criticism?

Seeing Doctor and Mrs. Linsell coming up on deck, she waved to them - she had a large palm, and she herself was large and tall. From Yokohama, where her current voyage began, she watched with unkind curiosity how quickly the intimacy of this couple grew. Linsell was a naval officer assigned to the British Embassy in Tokyo, and the indifference with which he watched the doctor flirt with his wife made Mrs. Hamlyn puzzled. Two new girls were coming up the stairs, and to amuse themselves, she began to guess whether they were married or single. Near her, pushing wicker chairs together, sat a group of men—planters, she thought, looking at their khaki suits and wide-brimmed felt hats; the steward was overwhelmed, carrying out their orders. They were talking and laughing too loudly, because they had poured enough alcohol into themselves to fall into some kind of stupid excitement; it was clearly a farewell, but whose, Mrs. Hamlin could not understand. There were only a few minutes left before departure. The passengers kept arriving and arriving, and finally Mr. Jephson, the consul, walked majestically along the gangplank; he was going on vacation. He boarded the ship in Shanghai and immediately began to court Mrs. Hamlin, but she did not have the slightest inclination to flirt. Remembering what was now driving her to Europe, she frowned. She wanted to spend Christmas at sea, away from everyone who cared about her in the least. The thought instantly made her heart ache, but she was immediately angry with herself that a memory she had resolutely banished was once again stirring up her reluctant mind.

At liberty, boy, at liberty! On your own, boy, on your own!

Novgorod song

- Summer has come.

- Here comes spring. May. Spring.

You can't make out anything here. Spring? Summer? It’s hot, stuffy, then - rain, snow, the stoves are turned on. It's stuffy and hot again.

It wasn't like that with us. For us, our northern spring was an event.

The sky, air, earth, trees changed.

All the secret forces, the secret juices accumulated over the winter, were rushing to the surface.

And the nights did not bring peace, did not cover my eyes with peaceful darkness. The day grew dim and pink, but did not go away.

And people wandered about, pale, languid, wandering, listening, like poets looking for a rhyme to an already emerging image.

It became difficult to live an ordinary life.

At the beginning of this century, an important event happened: a son was born to the court councilor Ivan Mironovich Zaedin. When the first impulses of parental delight passed and the mother’s strength was somewhat restored, which happened very soon, Ivan Mironovich asked his wife:

- What, darling, what do you think, the young fellow will probably be just like me?

- How wrong it is! And God forbid!

- What, isn’t that... am I good, Sofya Markovna?

- Good, but unhappy! You keep going separately; You don’t have any worries: seven arshins of cloth goes into a tailcoat!

- So they added it. Why do you feel sorry for the cloth, or what? Eh, Sofya Markovna! If you weren't the one speaking, I wouldn't be listening!

“What’s reprehensible here, Sofya Markovna?” So I go to the department every day and I don’t see any harm to myself: everyone looks at me with respect.

- They laugh at you, but you don’t even have the sense to understand! And you also want others to be like you!

- Really, darling, you are sophisticated: what’s surprising if the son looks like his father?

- Will not be!

- It will be, darling. Now the little one is like that... Again, take the nose... one might say, the most important thing in a person.

- Why are you poking around here? He is my birth.

- And mine too; you'll see.

- They also figured out what to spend the money on; Eh, Ivan Mironovich, God did not give you sound reasoning, and you are also reading “The Northern Bee”.

- You won’t please, Sofya Markovna. Let's see what you say, how I will raise Mitenka.

- You won't!

- But we’ll see!

- You'll see!

A few days later, Mitenka was given a formal examination in the presence of several relatives and friends at home.

“He doesn’t look one iota like you, darling!”

- He is like the sky from you, Ivan Mironovich!

Both exclamations came out at the same time from the lips of the spouses and were confirmed by those present. In fact, Mitenka did not at all resemble either his father or his mother.

Anna Karenina. Lev Tolstoy

The greatest love story of all time. A story that never left the stage, filmed countless once - and still has not lost the boundless charm of passion - passion that is destructive, destructive, blind - but all the more bewitching with its greatness.

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Master and Margarita. Michael Bulgakov

This is the most mysterious novel in history Russian literature XX century This is a novel that is almost officially called “The Gospel of Satan.” This is “The Master and Margarita”. A book that can be read and reread dozens, hundreds of times, but most importantly, it is still impossible to understand. So, which pages of “The Master and Margarita” were dictated by the Forces of Light?

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Wuthering Heights. Emily Brontë

A mystery novel included in the top ten best novels of all time! The story of a stormy, truly demonic passion that has been exciting the imagination of readers for more than one and a half hundred years. Katie gave her heart cousin, but ambition and thirst for wealth push her into the arms of a rich man. Forbidden attraction turns into a curse for secret lovers, and one day.

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Eugene Onegin. Alexander Pushkin

“Have you read “Onegin”? What can you say about “Onegin”? These are the questions that are constantly repeated among writers and Russian readers,” noted the writer, enterprising publisher and, by the way, the hero of Pushkin’s epigrams, Thaddeus Bulgarin, after the publication of the second chapter of the novel. For a long time now it has not been customary to evaluate ONEGIN. In the words of the same Bulgarin, it is “written in Pushkin’s poems. That's enough."

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Cathedral Notre Dame of Paris. Victor Hugo

A story that has survived centuries, become canon and given its heroes the glory of household names. A story of love and tragedy. The love of those to whom love was not given and not allowed - by religious dignity, physical weakness or someone else's evil will. The gypsy Esmeralda and the deaf hunchback bell-ringer Quasimodo, the priest Frollo and the captain of the royal riflemen Phoebe de Chateaupert, the beautiful Fleur-de-Lys and the poet Gringoire.

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Gone With the Wind. Margaret Mitchell

The Great Saga of Civil War in the USA and about the fate of the wayward and ready to go over heads Scarlett O'Hara was first published more than 70 years ago and does not become outdated to this day. This is Margaret Mitchell's only novel for which she received a Pulitzer Prize. A story about a woman whom neither an unconditional feminist nor a staunch supporter of house-building is ashamed to emulate.

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Romeo and Juliet. William Shakespeare

This is the highest tragedy about love that human genius can create. A tragedy that has been filmed and is being filmed. A tragedy that never goes away theatrical stage to this day – and to this day it sounds as if it was written yesterday. Years and centuries go by. But one thing remains and will forever remain unchanged: “There is no sadder story in the world than the story of Romeo and Juliet...”

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The Great Gatsby. Francis Fitzgerald

“The Great Gatsby” is not only the pinnacle of Fitzgerald’s work, but also one of highest achievements in world prose of the 20th century. Although the novel takes place in the “roaring” twenties of the last century, when fortunes were made literally from nothing and yesterday’s criminals became millionaires overnight, this book lives outside of time, because, telling the story of the broken destinies of the generation of the “Jazz Age”.

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Three Musketeers. Alexandr Duma

The most famous historical and adventure novel by Alexandre Dumas tells about the adventures of the Gascon d'Artagnan and his musketeer friends at the court of King Louis XIII.

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Count of Monte Cristo. Alexandr Duma

The book presents one of the most exciting adventure novels of the French classic literature of the 19th century century of Alexandre Dumas.

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Triumphal Arch. Erich Remarque

One of the most beautiful and tragic novels about love in history European literature. The story of a refugee from Nazi Germany Dr. Ravic and the beautiful Joan Madu, entangled in the “unbearable lightness of being,” takes place in pre-war Paris. And the alarming time in which these two happened to meet and fall in love with each other becomes one of the main characters of the Arc de Triomphe.

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The man who laughs. Victor Hugo

Gwynplaine, a lord by birth, was sold as a child to comprachicos bandits, who made a fair jester out of the child, carving a mask of “eternal laughter” on his face (at the courts of the European nobility of that time there was a fashion for cripples and freaks who amused the owners). Despite all the trials, Gwynplaine retained the best human qualities and your love.

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Martin Eden. Jack London

A simple sailor, in whom it is easy to recognize the author himself, goes through a long, hardship-filled path to literary immortality... By chance, he finds himself in secular society, Martin Eden is doubly happy and surprised... both by the creative gift that has awakened in him, and by the divine image of young Ruth Morse, so unlike all the people he knew before... From now on, two goals are relentlessly facing him.

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Sister Kerry. Theodore Dreiser

The publication of Theodore Dreiser's first novel was fraught with such difficulties that it led its creator to severe depression. But further fate The novel “Sister Carrie” turned out to be lucky: it was translated into many foreign languages, reprinted in millions of copies. New and new generations of readers enjoy immersing themselves in the vicissitudes of Caroline Mieber's fate.

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American tragedy. Theodore Dreiser

The novel “American Tragedy” is the pinnacle of creativity of the outstanding American writer Theodore Dreiser. He said: “No one creates tragedies - life creates them. Writers only portray them.” Dreiser managed to portray the tragedy of Clive Griffiths so talentedly that his story does not leave the modern reader indifferent.

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Les Misérables. Victor Hugo

Jean Valjean, Cosette, Gavroche - the names of the heroes of the novel have long become household names, the number of its readers in the century and a half since the publication of the book has not become smaller, the novel has not lost popularity. A kaleidoscope of faces from all strata of French society in the first half XIX century, bright, memorable characters, sentimentality and realism, intense, exciting plot.

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The adventures of the good soldier Schweik. Jaroslav Hasek

A great, original and outrageous novel. A book that can be perceived both as a “soldier’s tale” and as classic, directly related to the traditions of the Renaissance. This is a sparkling text that makes you laugh until you cry, and a powerful call to “put down your arms,” and one of the most objective historical evidence in satirical literature.

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Iliad. Homer

The attractiveness of Homer's poems is not only that their author introduces us to a world separated from modernity by tens of centuries and yet unusually real thanks to the genius of the poet, who preserved in his poems the beat of contemporary life. Homer's immortality lies in the fact that in his brilliant creations contains inexhaustible reserves of universal human enduring values - reason, goodness and beauty.

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St. John's wort. James Cooper

Cooper was able to find and describe in his books the originality and unexpected brightness of the newly discovered continent, which managed to captivate the entire modern Europe. Every new novel The writer was eagerly awaited. The exciting adventures of the fearless and noble hunter and tracker Natty Bumppo captivated both young and adult readers..

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Doctor Zhivago. Boris Pasternak

The novel “Doctor Zhivago” is one of outstanding works Russian literature, throughout for long years remained closed for wide range readers in our country, who knew about him only through scandalous and unscrupulous party criticism.

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Don Quixote. Miguel Cervantes

What do the names of Amadis of Gaul, Palmer of England, Don Belianis of Greece, Tyrant of the White tell us today? But it was precisely as a parody of the novels about these knights that “The Cunning Hidalgo Don Quixote of La Mancha” by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra was created. And this parody has survived the genre being parodied for centuries. "Don Quixote" was recognized best novel throughout the history of world literature.

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Ivanhoe. Walter Scott

"Ivanhoe" - key work in the series of novels by W. Scott, which take us to medieval England. To the young knight Ivanhoe, who returned secretly from Crusade deprived of inheritance to his homeland and by the will of his father, he will have to defend his honor and love beautiful lady Rowena... King Richard will come to his aid Lion Heart and the legendary robber Robin Hood.

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Headless horseman. Reed Main

The plot of the novel is so skillfully constructed that it keeps you in suspense until the very end. last page. It is no coincidence that the exciting story of the noble mustanger Maurice Gerald and his lover, the beautiful Louise Poindexter, investigating the sinister mystery of the headless horseman, whose figure terrifies the inhabitants of the savannah upon his appearance, was extremely loved by readers in Europe and Russia.

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Dear friend. Guy de Maupassant

The novel “Dear Friend” became one of the symbols of the era. This is Maupassant's most powerful novel. Through history Georges Duroy, paving his way to the top, the true morals of high French society are revealed, the spirit of corruption that reigns in all its spheres contributes to the fact that an ordinary and immoral person, such as the hero of Maupassant, easily achieves success and wealth.

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Dead Souls. Nikolay Gogol

The publication of the first volume of N. Gogol’s “Dead Souls” in 1842 caused heated controversy among contemporaries, splitting society into fans and opponents of the poem. “...Speaking of “ Dead souls“-you can talk a lot about Russia...” - this judgment of P. Vyazemsky explained main reason disputes. The author’s question is still relevant: “Rus, where are you rushing, give me the answer?”

New Time magazine once announced a competition for the best short story: the length was limited by the number of words, there could not be more than 55. Unexpectedly, the magazine's editor Steve Moss received such a response that he was forced to hire two assistants just to read all the stories received . It was very difficult to choose - many authors demonstrated brilliant mastery of syllables and words. Here are some of the most interesting stories.

Miserable, Dan Andrews

They say evil has no face. Indeed, no feelings were reflected on his face. There was not a glimmer of sympathy on him, but the pain was simply unbearable. Can't he see the horror in my eyes and the panic on my face? He calmly, one might say, carried out his duties professionally. dirty work, and at the end he politely asked: “Rinse your mouth, please.”

Rendezvous, Nicole Weddle

The phone rang.

Hello,” she whispered.

Victoria, it's me. Let's meet at the pier at midnight.

OK, darling.

And please don’t forget to take a bottle of champagne with you,” he said.

I won't forget, dear. I want to be with you tonight.

Hurry up, I have no time to wait! - he said and hung up.

She sighed, then smiled.

I wonder who it is,” she said.

What the Devil Wants, Brian Newell

The two boys stood and watched Satan slowly walk away. The sparkle of his hypnotic eyes still clouded their heads.

Listen, what did he want from you?

My soul. And from you?

A coin for a pay phone. He urgently needed to call.

Do you want to go and eat?

I want to, but now I have no money at all.

It's OK. I have plenty.

Higher Education, Ron Bast

At university we just wiped down our pants,” Jennings said as he washed dirty hands. - After all these budget cuts, they don't teach you much, they just gave estimates and everything went on as usual.

So how did you study?

But we didn’t study. However, you can watch me work.

The nurse opened the door.

Dr. Jennings, you're needed in the operating room.

The Decisive Moment, Tina Milburn

She could almost hear the doors of her prison slamming shut.

Freedom is gone forever, now her fate is in someone else’s hands and she will never see freedom.

Crazy thoughts flashed through her head about how nice it would be to fly far, far away. But she knew that it was impossible to hide.

She turned to the groom with a smile and repeated: “Yes, I agree.”

Hide and Seek, Kurt Homan

Ninety-nine, one hundred! Ready or not, here I come!

I hate driving, but for me it's much easier than hiding. Entering dark room, I whisper to those who are hiding inside: “They knocked and fell!”

They follow me along the long corridor with their eyes, and in the mirrors hanging on the walls my figure in a black cassock and with a scythe in his hands is reflected.

Bed Story, Geoffrey Whitmore

Watch out baby, it's loaded,” he said as he walked back into the bedroom.

Her back rested on the headboard of the bed.

Is this for your wife?

No. It would be risky. I'll hire a hitman.

What if the killer is me?

He grinned.

Who is smart enough to hire a woman to kill a man?

She licked her lips and aimed her sights at him.

Your wife's.

In the hospital, Barnaby Conrades

She drove the car at breakneck speed. Lord, if only I could make it on time.

But from the expression on the face of the doctor from the intensive care unit, she understood everything.

She began to sob.

Is he conscious?

Mrs. Allerton,” the doctor said softly, “you should be happy.” His last words were: “I love you, Mary.”

She looked at the doctor and turned away.

“Thank you,” Judith said coldly.

The Beginning, Enrique Cavalitto

She was angry with him. In their idyllic life, they had almost everything, but she longed for one thing - something they never had. Only his cowardice was a hindrance.

Then it will be necessary to get rid of it, but it’s too early. It's better to be calm and cunning. Beautiful in her nakedness, she grabbed the fruit.

“Adam,” she called quietly.

Window, Jane Orvey

Ever since Rita was brutally murdered, Carter has been sitting by the window. No TV, reading, correspondence. His life is what is seen through the curtains. He doesn't care who brings the food, who pays the bills, he doesn't leave the room. His life is passing athletes, the change of seasons, passing cars, the ghost of Rita.

Carter doesn't realize that the felt-lined chambers have no windows.

In Search of Truth, Robert Tompkins

Finally, in this remote, secluded village, his search ended. Truth sat in a dilapidated hut by the fire.

He had never seen an older, uglier woman.

Are you - Really?

The old, wizened hag nodded solemnly.

Tell me, what should I tell the world? What message to convey?

The old woman spat into the fire and answered:

Tell them I'm young and beautiful!

Valentin Berestov

There was a time when birds could not sing.

And suddenly they learned that in one distant country there lived an old man, a wise man who teaches music.

Then the birds sent the Stork and the Nightingale to him to check if this was so.

The stork was in a hurry. He couldn't wait to become the world's first musician.

He was in such a hurry that he ran to the sage and didn’t even knock on the door, didn’t greet the old man, and shouted with all his might right in his ear:

Hey old man! Come on, teach me music!

But the sage decided to first teach him politeness.

He took the Stork out the threshold, knocked on the door and said:

You have to do it like this.

All clear! - Stork was happy.

Is this what music is? - and flew away to quickly surprise the world with his art.

The nightingale arrived later on its small wings.

He timidly knocked on the door, said hello, asked for forgiveness for disturbing me and said that he really wanted to study music.

The sage liked the friendly bird. And he taught the nightingale everything he knew.

Since then, the modest Nightingale has become the best singer in the world.

And the eccentric Stork can only knock with his beak. Moreover, he boasts and teaches other birds:

Hey, do you hear? You have to do it like this, like this! That's what it is real music! If you don't believe me, ask an old sage.

How to find a track

Valentin Berestov

The guys went to visit their grandfather the forester. We went and got lost.

They look, Squirrel is jumping over them. From tree to tree. From tree to tree.

Guys - to her:

Belka, Belka, tell me, Belka, Belka, show me, How to find the path to grandpa’s lodge?

“Very simple,” Belka answers.

Jump from this tree to that one, from that one to the crooked birch tree. From the crooked birch tree you can see a large, large oak tree. The roof is visible from the top of the oak tree. This is the gatehouse. Well, what about you? Jump!

Thank you, Belka! - the guys say. - Only we don’t know how to jump on trees. We'd better ask someone else.

The Hare is jumping. The guys sang their song to him too:

Bunny Bunny, tell me, Bunny, Bunny, show me, How to find the path to grandpa's lodge?

To the lodge? - asked the Hare. - There is nothing simpler. At first it will smell like mushrooms. So? Then - hare cabbage. So? Then it smells like a fox hole. So? Skip this smell to the right or left. So? When it is left behind, smell it like this and you will smell the smoke. Jump straight onto it without turning anywhere. This is the forester grandfather setting the samovar.

“Thank you, Bunny,” the guys say. “It’s a pity that our noses are not as sensitive as yours.” I'll have to ask someone else.

They see a snail crawling.

Hey, Snail, tell me, Hey, Snail, show me, How to find the path to grandpa’s lodge?

It’s a long time to tell,” sighed the Snail. - Lu-u-better, I’ll take you there-u-u. Follow me.

Thank you, Snail! - the guys say. - We have no time to crawl. We'd better ask someone else.

A bee sits on a flower.

Guys to her:

Bee, Bee, tell me, Bee, Bee, show me, How to find the path to grandpa’s lodge?

Well, well, says the bee. - I’ll show you... Look where I’m flying. Follow. See my sisters. Where they go, you go too. We bring honey to grandpa's apiary. Well, goodbye! I'm in a big hurry. W-w-w...

And she flew away. The guys didn’t even have time to say thank you to her. They went to where the bees were flying and quickly found the guardhouse. What a joy! And then grandfather treated them to tea with honey.

Honest caterpillar

Valentin Berestov

The caterpillar considered itself very beautiful and did not let a single drop of dew pass without looking at it.

How good am I! - the Caterpillar rejoiced, looking with pleasure at its flat face and arching its furry back to see two golden stripes on it.

It's a pity that no one notices this.

But one day she got lucky. A girl walked through the meadow and picked flowers. The caterpillar climbed to the very top beautiful flower and began to wait.

That's disgusting! It's disgusting to even look at you!

Ah well! - the Caterpillar got angry. “Then I give my honest caterpillar word that no one, ever, anywhere, for anything, under any circumstances, will ever see me again!”

You gave your word - you need to keep it, even if you are a Caterpillar. And the Caterpillar crawled up the tree. From trunk to branch, from branch to branch, from branch to branch, from branch to twig, from twig to leaf.

She took out a silk thread from her abdomen and began to wrap herself around it. She worked for a long time and finally made a cocoon.

Phew, I'm so tired! - the Caterpillar sighed. - I'm completely exhausted.

It was warm and dark in the cocoon, there was nothing more to do, and the Caterpillar fell asleep.

She woke up because her back was itching terribly. Then the Caterpillar began to rub against the walls of the cocoon. She rubbed and rubbed, rubbed right through them and fell out.

But she fell somehow strangely - not down, but up.

And then the Caterpillar saw the same girl in the same meadow.

"Horrible! - thought the Caterpillar. “I may not be beautiful, it’s not my fault, but now everyone will know that I’m also a liar.” I gave an honest assurance that no one would see me, and I didn’t keep it. A shame!" And the Caterpillar fell into the grass.

And the girl saw her and said:

Such a beauty!

So trust people,” grumbled the Caterpillar.

Today they say one thing, and tomorrow they say something completely different.

Just in case, she looked into the dew drop. What's happened? In front of her is an unfamiliar face with a long, very long mustache.

The caterpillar tried to arch its back and saw that large multi-colored wings appeared on its back.

Oh that's it! - she guessed. - A miracle happened to me. The most ordinary miracle: I became a Butterfly!

This happens. And she merrily circled over the meadow, because she did not give the butterfly’s honest word that no one would see her.

Magic word

V.A. Oseeva

A little old man with a long gray beard was sitting on a bench and drawing something in the sand with an umbrella.
. “Move over,” Pavlik told him and sat down on the edge.
The old man moved and, looking at the boy’s red, angry face, said:
- Did something happen to you? - Well, okay! “What do you want?” Pavlik looked sideways at him.

“I’ll go to my grandmother. She's just cooking. Will he drive away or not?
Pavlik opened the door to the kitchen. The old woman was removing hot pies from the baking sheet.
The grandson ran up to her, turned her red, wrinkled face with both hands, looked into her eyes and whispered:
- Give me a piece of pie... please.
Grandma straightened up. Magic word it shone in every wrinkle, in the eyes, in the smile.
“I wanted something hot... something hot, my darling!” she said, choosing the best one, ruddy pie.
Pavlik jumped for joy and kissed her on both cheeks.
"Wizard! Wizard!" - he repeated to himself, remembering the old man.
At dinner, Pavlik sat quietly and listened to his brother’s every word. When his brother said that he would go boating, Pavlik put his hand on his shoulder and quietly asked:
- Take me, please. Everyone at the table immediately fell silent.
The brother raised his eyebrows and grinned.
“Take it,” the sister suddenly said. - What is it worth to you!
- Well, why not take it? - Grandma smiled. - Of course, take it.
“Please,” Pavlik repeated.

The brother laughed loudly, patted the boy on the shoulder, ruffled his hair:
- Oh, you traveler! Okay, get ready!
“It helped! It helped again!”
Pavlik jumped out from the table and ran into the street. But the old man was no longer in the park.
The bench was empty, and only incomprehensible signs drawn by an umbrella remained on the sand.

Badly

V.A. Oseeva
The dog barked furiously, falling on its front paws.

Right in front of her, pressed against the fence, sat a small, disheveled kitten. He opened his mouth wide and meowed pitifully.

Two boys stood nearby and waited to see what would happen.

A woman looked out the window and hurriedly ran out onto the porch. She drove the dog away and angrily shouted to the boys:

Shame on you!

What's a shame? We didn't do anything! - the boys were surprised.

This is bad! - the woman answered angrily.

Which is easier?

V.A. Oseeva
Three boys went into the forest. There are mushrooms, berries, birds in the forest. The boys went on a spree.

We didn’t notice how the day passed. They go home - they are afraid:

It will hit us at home!

So they stopped on the road and thought what was better: to lie or to tell the truth?

“I’ll say,” says the first, “that a wolf attacked me in the forest.”

The father will be afraid and will not scold.

“I’ll say,” says the second, “that I met my grandfather.”

My mother will be happy and will not scold me.

“And I’ll tell the truth,” says the third. “It’s always easier to tell the truth, because it’s the truth and there’s no need to invent anything.”

So they all went home.

As soon as the first boy told his father about the wolf, look, the forest guard is coming.

“No,” he says, “there are wolves in these places.” The father got angry. For the first guilt I was angry, and for the lie - twice as angry.

The second boy told about his grandfather. And the grandfather is right there - coming to visit. Mother found out the truth. For the first guilt I was angry, but for the lie I was twice as angry.

And the third boy, as soon as he arrived, immediately confessed to everything. His aunt grumbled at him and forgave him.

good

V.A. Oseeva

Yurik woke up in the morning. I looked out the window. The sun is shining. It's a good day. And the boy wanted to do something good himself.

So he sits and thinks: “What if my little sister was drowning, and I would save her!”

And my sister is right here:

Take a walk with me, Yura!

Go away, don't stop me from thinking! My little sister was offended and walked away.

And Yura thinks: “If only wolves attacked the nanny, and I would shoot them!”

And the nanny is right there:

Put away the dishes, Yurochka.

Clean it yourself - I have no time! The nanny shook her head.

And Yura thinks again: “If only Trezorka fell into the well, and I would pull him out!”

And Trezorka is right there. His tail wags: “Give me a drink, Yura!”

Go away! Don't bother thinking! Trezorka closed his mouth and climbed into the bushes.

And Yura went to his mother:

What good thing could I do? Mom stroked Yura’s head:

Take a walk with your sister, help the nanny put away the dishes, give Trezor some water.

sons

V.A. Oseeva

Two women were taking water from a well.

A third approached them. And the old man sat down on a pebble to rest.

Here's what one woman says to another:

My son is dexterous and strong, no one can handle him.

And the third is silent. “Why don’t you tell me about your son?” her neighbors ask.

What can I say? - says the woman. “There’s nothing special about him.”

So the women collected full buckets and left. And the old man is behind them.

Women walk and stop. My hands hurt, the water splashes, my back hurts. Suddenly three boys run out towards us.

One of them somersaults over his head, walks like a cartwheel, and the women admire him.

He sings another song, sings like a nightingale - the women listen to him.

And the third ran up to his mother, took the heavy buckets from her and dragged them.

The women ask the old man:

Well? What are our sons like?

Where are they? - the old man answers. “I only see one son!”

blue leaves

V.A. Oseeva

Katya had two green pencils. And Lena has none. So Lena asks Katya:

Give me a green pencil.

And Katya says:

I'll ask my mom.

The next day both girls come to school.

Lena asks:

Did your mom allow it?

And Katya sighed and said:

Mom allowed it, but I didn’t ask my brother.

Well, ask your brother again,” says Lena.

Katya arrives the next day.

Well, did your brother allow it? - Lena asks.

My brother allowed me, but I'm afraid you'll break your pencil.

“I’m careful,” says Lena.

Look, says Katya, don’t fix it, don’t press hard, don’t put it in your mouth. Don't draw too much.

“I just need to draw leaves on the trees and green grass,” says Lena.

“That’s a lot,” says Katya, and her eyebrows frown. And she made a dissatisfied face. Lena looked at her and walked away. I didn't take a pencil. Katya was surprised and ran after her:

Well, what are you doing? Take it! “No need,” Lena answers.

During the lesson, the teacher asks: “Why, Lenochka, are the leaves on your trees blue?”

There is no green pencil.

Why didn't you take it from your girlfriend?

Lena is silent.

And Katya blushed like a lobster and said:

I gave it to her, but she doesn’t take it.

The teacher looked at both:

You have to give so that you can take.

On the rink

V.A. Oseeva

The day was sunny. The ice sparkled. There were few people at the skating rink.

The little girl, with her arms outstretched comically, rode from bench to bench.

Two schoolchildren were tying up their skates and looking at Vitya.

Vitya performed different tricks - sometimes he rode on one leg, sometimes he spun around like a top.

Well done! - one of the boys shouted to him.

Vitya rushed around the circle like an arrow, made a dashing turn and ran into the girl.

The girl fell.

Vitya was scared.

“I accidentally...” he said, brushing snow off her fur coat.

Did you hurt yourself?

The girl smiled:

Knee...

Laughter came from behind. “They’re laughing at me!” thought Vitya and turned away from the girl with annoyance.

What a surprise - a knee! What a crybaby!” he shouted, driving past the schoolchildren.

Come to us! - they called. Vitya approached them. Holding hands, all three merrily slid across the ice.

And the girl sat on the bench, rubbed her bruised knee and cried.