I find it beautiful to say. Don't speak nicely - the history of a catchphrase

The secret of successful people is the ability to speak beautifully. By learning to clearly express your thoughts, find a common language with others and speak beautifully, you can improve your life qualitatively. How can you sharpen your communication skills so you can be respected at work and popular in your personal life?

All great and successful people They were good speakers and had good eloquence skills. They could present themselves in the best way and skillfully established communication with others. Success in business, with friends and in your personal life depends on the ability to speak beautifully.

How to speak beautifully?

1. How to prepare for a conversation?

The best impromptu is a prepared impromptu. It's the same in conversation. When preparing for a conversation or speech, think through your speech in advance. Sketch out a rough outline, phrases and flow of speech. For a casual conversation, prepare a dozen topics for conversation, short stories and funny stories. Read the latest news, Interesting Facts and fresh jokes. This will allow you to carry on a conversation with anyone and be interesting at the same time.

2. How to make your speech bright and expressive

Exist different ways enriching speech and giving it beauty. Use metaphors to make things clearer. Compare similar things and objects for greater clarity. Don't forget quotes, aphorisms and a sense of humor. Speech filled with positive jokes is perceived better.

3. How to get rid of mistakes in conversation

Fast and crumpled speech. When the pace of speech is too fast, it is difficult for others to follow the flow of the conversation. Fast speech does not allow you to take the speaker seriously when he chatters incessantly and without meaningful pauses.

Slurred speech. Often, even adults may not be able to pronounce letters and have problems with diction. You can practice by taking tongue twisters for speech and repeating them regularly.

Wrong gestures. Sometimes the interlocutor has poor control of body language. As a result, speech is not in harmony with his gestures and facial expressions. Often a person closes down when communicating. He folds his arms over his chest or crosses his legs. Practice in front of the mirror to be more harmonious and natural.

4. How to be an interesting conversationalist?

An interesting interlocutor is not one who talks a lot and knows everything. This is the one who knows how to listen. Ask leading questions, actively listen, empathize, assent and show interest. Find topics that concern your interlocutor and support his opinion.

When speaking, try to be short and concise. State it accurately, watch your articulation, show oratory skill. Too much depends on the beauty of speech to ignore it.

Is knowing grammar alone enough to be a good storyteller? You can memorize a thousand rules, but still remain an amateur in oral speech. Then what is the secret of an interesting interlocutor? How to learn to speak beautifully? This article provides psychological, linguistic and ethical advice. Together, they will help you become a master of words, impress your listeners, and even increase your self-esteem, because correct speech strengthens self-confidence.

What does “beautiful speech” mean?

Beautiful speech is a method of verbal communication that includes the richness and literacy of language. Clear, logical reproduction is the “technical” side of speech, while variety and richness are artistic. A monologue that maintains a balance of these parts is doomed to success. The features of this language also include:

• semantic fullness, completeness;
• the presence of vivid images and phrases;
• cleanliness - absence of slang, obscene language, linguistic tracing;
• accessibility, simplicity;
• correct pronunciation.

A storyteller with such a speech easily attracts attention and wins over. He is able to convince, inspire, make you think. No matter where - in business or in everyday life - beautiful speech opens up many new opportunities.

Do you want to accept best solutions , find your ideal career and realize your maximum potential? Find out for free what kind of person you were destined to become at birth by the system

How to get the key to a thousand doors? How to start expressing yourself so that your listeners admire every word?

How to speak beautifully?

1. Expand your vocabulary.

Vocabulary is the basis of any language. The more diverse it is, the more interesting the story turns out. This is why working on increasing your vocabulary is so important. To do this you can:

• reading classical literature is a treasure trove of rich vocabulary;
• look into dictionaries of synonyms, antonyms, phraseological units;
• write essays independently, especially in artistic, conversational and journalistic style.

A good exercise to expand your vocabulary would be association game. It will require any word, phrase or sentence. First, the selected phrase is interpreted, then an associative continuation is written to it. If the task seems too difficult, you can simply try to rewrite the original piece of text in your own words.

2. Improve the logic and consistency of speech.

Even the richest vocabulary will be useless if there is no logical connection in it. The correct order and appropriateness of words, semantic completeness, and the absence of excess or shortage of specific parts of speech are an essential component of a beautiful story. What happens if you ignore this?

“The hunter noticed a large animal at the edge of the forest - it was an elk. He slowly took the gun off his shoulder and took aim...”

Like the statements and behavior of the characters in this fragment help to understand the essence of their characters?

Bazarov paused. “When I meet a person who would not give up in front of me,” he said with emphasis, “then I will change my opinion about myself.” Hate! Yes, for example, you said today, passing by the hut of our elder Philip, - it is so nice, white, - now, you said, Russia will then reach perfection when the last peasant will have the same room, and each of us should contribute to this ... And I hated this last guy, Philip or Sidor, for whom I have to bend over backwards and who won’t even say thank you to me... and why should I thank him? Well, he will live in a white hut, and a burdock will grow out of me; Well, what next? - Come on, Evgeny... listening to you today, you will inevitably agree with those who reproach us for the lack of principles. - You speak like your uncle. There are no principles at all - you haven’t guessed it until now! - but there are sensations. Everything depends on them. - How so? - Yes, just like that. For example, me: I adhere to the negative direction - due to sensation. I’m happy to deny it, my brain works that way - and that’s it! Why do I like chemistry? Why do you love apples? - also due to sensation. It's all one. People will never go deeper than this. Not everyone will tell you this, and I won’t tell you this another time either. - Well? and honesty - a feeling? - Of course! - Evgeniy! - Arkady began in a sad voice. - Eh? What? not to your taste? - Bazarov interrupted. - No, brother! I decided to mow down everything - go ahead and kick yourself!.. However, we were quite philosophical. “Nature evokes the silence of sleep,” said Pushkin. “He never said anything like that,” said Arkady. “Well, he didn’t say it, so he could and should have said it, as a poet.” By the way, he must be in military service served. - Pushkin was never a military man! - For mercy, on every page he has: for battle, for battle! for the honor of Russia! - What kind of tales are you inventing! After all, this is slander, after all. - Slander? How important! That's what I thought of using a word to scare! Whatever slander you bring against a person, he, in essence, deserves twenty times worse. - Let's sleep better! - Arkady said with annoyance. “With the greatest pleasure,” answered Bazarov. But neither one nor the other could sleep. Some almost hostile feeling gripped the hearts of both young people. About five minutes later they opened their eyes and looked at each other in silence. “Look,” Arkady said suddenly, “a dry maple leaf has come off and is falling to the ground; its movements are completely similar to the flight of a butterfly. Isn't it strange? The saddest and deadest is similar to the most cheerful and alive. - Oh, my friend, Arkady Nikolaich! - exclaimed Bazarov, - I ask you one thing: don’t speak beautifully. - I speak as best I can... And finally, this is despotism. A thought occurred to me; Why not express it? - Yes, but why shouldn’t I express my thoughts? I find that speaking beautifully is indecent. - What is decent? Swear? - Uh! Yes, I see you definitely intend to follow in your uncle’s footsteps. How happy this idiot would be if he heard you! - What did you call Pavel Petrovich? - I called him as he should - an idiot. - This, however, is unbearable! - Arkady exclaimed. - Aha! a kindred feeling spoke,” Bazarov said calmly. “I noticed that it persists in people very stubbornly.” A person is ready to give up everything, he will part with every prejudice; but to admit that, for example, a brother who steals other people’s handkerchiefs is a thief is beyond his strength. And indeed: my brother, mine, is not a genius... is this possible? “A simple sense of justice spoke to me, and not at all related,” Arkady objected passionately. “But since you don’t understand this feeling, you don’t have this feeling, then you can’t judge it.” In other words: Arkady Kirsanov is too exalted for my understanding,” I bow and fall silent. “Enough, please, Evgeny; we will finally quarrel. - Ah, Arkady! do me a favor, let's have a good fight once - to the point of being destroyed, to the point of extermination. - But this way, perhaps, we will end up... - What will we fight? - Bazarov picked up. - Well? Here, in the hay, in such an idyllic setting, far from the light and human gaze - nothing. But you can't deal with me. I’ll grab you by the throat now... Bazarov spread out his long and stiff fingers... Arkady turned and prepared, as if jokingly, to resist. .. But his friend’s face seemed so ominous to him, such a serious threat seemed to him in the crooked smile of his lips, in his sparkling eyes, that he felt involuntary timidity...I.S. Turgenev, "Fathers and Sons".

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In this excerpt, we learn a lot about the characters of the main characters of the novel “Fathers and Sons” - Arkady Kirsanov and Evgeny Bazarov.

For example, from Bazarov’s words about the village peasant, we understand that he does not see the point in mutual assistance. The author makes it clear to us that Bazarov does not recognize any authorities and believes that everything in the world is sensations, and people behave good or bad, guided only by their own feelings, and not by principles, morals, etc.: “It’s all one. Deeper people will never understand this,” says Bazarov. The author also reveals to us the misanthropic side of Bazarov’s character with the words: “Whatever slander you bring against a person, he, in essence, deserves twenty times worse.” Everything beautiful and sublime is alien to Bazarov - for example, when Arkady looked philosophically at the beautiful fall of a maple leaf, Evgeny callously asked Kirsanov “not to speak beautifully.” Rudeness and

Criteria

• 3 of 3 K1 The depth of the judgments made and the persuasiveness of the arguments
• 1 of 1 K2 Following speech norms
• TOTAL: 4 out of 4

Anna Gennadievna Maslova

Getting out of bed, Arkady opened the window - and the first object that caught his eye was Vasily Ivanovich. In a Bukhara dressing gown, belted with a handkerchief, the old man was diligently rummaging in the garden. He noticed his young guest and, leaning on his shoulder blade, exclaimed: - We wish you good health! How would you like to rest? “Wonderful,” answered Arkady. “And here I am, as you can see, like a certain Cincinnatus, making a bed for late turnips.” Now the time has come—and thank God! - that everyone must get food for themselves with their own hands, there is nothing to rely on others: you have to work yourself. And it turns out that Jean-Jacques Rousseau is right. Half an hour ago, my sir, you would have seen me in a completely different position. To one woman who complained about oppression - in theirs, but in ours - dysentery, I... how to put it better... I poured in opium; and I pulled out another tooth. I suggested etherization to this one... but she did not agree. I do all this gratis - anamater. However, I’m not surprised: I’m a plebeian, homo novus - not one of the pillars, not like my missus... Wouldn’t you like to be welcome here, in the shade, to breathe in the morning freshness before tea? Arkady came out to him. - Welcome again! - said Vasily Ivanovich, putting his hand in a military manner to the greasy skullcap that covered his head. “You, I know, are accustomed to luxury and pleasure, but even the great of this world do not hesitate to spend a short time under the roof of a hut. “For mercy’s sake,” cried Arkady, “what am I?” great of the world this? And I'm not used to luxury. “Excuse me, excuse me,” Vasily Ivanovich objected with an amiable grimace. “Even though I’ve now been archived, I’ve also rubbed myself in the light—I recognize a bird by its flight.” I am also a psychologist in my own way and a physiognomist. If I didn’t have this, I dare say, gift, I would have been lost long ago; would have erased me little man. I will tell you without compliments: the friendship that I notice between you and my son sincerely pleases me. I just saw him: he, as is his custom, probably known to you, jumped up very early and ran around the neighborhood. Let me be curious - have you known my Eugene for a long time? - Since this winter. - Yes, sir. And let me ask you one more thing, but should we sit down? - Let me ask you, as a father, with all frankness: what is your opinion of my Eugene? “Your son is one of the most wonderful people I have ever met,” Arkady answered brightly. Vasily Ivanovich's eyes suddenly opened, and his cheeks faintly flushed. The shovel fell out of his hands. “So, you believe...” he began. “I’m sure,” Arkady picked up, “that a great future awaits your son, that he will glorify your name.” I was convinced of this from our first meeting. - How... how was it? - Vasily Ivanovich barely said. An enthusiastic smile parted his wide lips and never left them. - Do you want to know how we met? - Yes... and in general... Arkady began to talk and talk about Bazarov with even greater fervor, with greater enthusiasm than that evening when he danced the mazurka with Odintsova. Vasily Ivanovich listened to him, listened, blew his nose, rolled his handkerchief in both hands, coughed, ruffled his hair - and finally could not stand it: he bent over to Arkady and kissed him on the shoulder. “You have made me completely happy,” he said, still smiling, “I must tell you that I... adore my son; I’m not even talking about my old woman: you know - mother! but I don’t dare show my feelings in front of him, because he doesn’t like it. He is the enemy of all outpourings; many even condemn him for such firmness of his character and see in it a sign of pride or insensitivity; but people like him don’t have to be measured by an ordinary yardstick, right? Well, for example: someone else in his place would have pulled and pulled from his parents; and with us, would you believe it? he never took an extra penny, by God! “He is a disinterested, honest person,” Arkady noted. - Precisely selfless. And I, Arkady Nikolaich, not only adore him, I am proud of him, and my whole ambition is that over time the following words will appear in his biography: “The son of a simple headquarters doctor, who, however, knew how to figure it out early and nothing I didn’t spare any effort for his upbringing...” The old man’s voice broke off. Arkady squeezed his hand. “What do you think,” asked Vasily Ivanovich after some silence, “it’s not in the medical field that he will achieve the fame that you prophesy for him?” - Of course, not in medicine, although in this regard he will be one of the first scientists. - Which one, Arkady Nikolaich? - It's hard to say now, but he will be famous. - He will be famous! - the old man repeated and plunged into thought. “Arina Vlasyevna was ordered to ask for tea,” said Anfisushka, passing by with a huge dish of ripe raspberries. Vasily Ivanovich perked up. — Will there be cold cream for the raspberries?- They will, sir. - Yes, they’re cold, look! Don't stand on ceremony, Arkady Nikolaich, take more. Why isn’t Evgeny coming? “I’m here,” said Bazarov’s voice from Arkady’s room. Vasily Ivanovich quickly turned around. - Yeah! you wanted to visit your friend; but you were late, amice, and we already had a long conversation with him. Now I have to go and have tea: my mother is calling. By the way, I need to talk to you.- About what? - There’s a guy here, he suffers from icterus... - That is, jaundice? - Yes, chronic and very persistent icterus. I prescribed him centaury and St. John's wort, forced him to eat carrots, gave him soda; but that's all palliative facilities; I need something more decisive. Even though you laugh at medicine, I’m sure you can give me sound advice. But more on that later. Now let's go have some tea. Vasily Ivanovich quickly jumped up from the bench and sang from “Robert”:

Law, law, law, let's set ourselves a law
Let's live for joy... for joy!

- Remarkable survivability! - Bazarov said, moving away from the window. It's noon. The sun burned from behind a thin curtain of solid whitish clouds. Everything was silent, only the roosters cheerfully crowed in the village, arousing in everyone who heard them a strange feeling of drowsiness and boredom; and somewhere high in the tops of the trees the incessant squeak of a young hawk rang like a whiny call. Arkady and Bazarov lay in the shade of a small haystack, with two armfuls of noisily dry, but still green and fragrant grass underneath them. “That aspen tree,” said Bazarov, “reminds me of my childhood; it grows on the edge of a hole left over from a brick barn, and at that time I was sure that this hole and the aspen had a special talisman: I was never bored near them. I didn’t understand then that I wasn’t bored because I was a child. Well, now I'm an adult, the talisman doesn't work. - How long did you spend here in total? - asked Arkady. - For two years in a row; then we ran over. We led a wandering life; Most of them were hanging around the cities. - Has this house been standing for a long time? - For a long time. It was built by my grandfather, my mother’s father. - Who was he, your grandfather? - The devil knows. Some kind of second major. He served under Suvorov and talked all about the crossing of the Alps. He must have been lying. — That’s why you have a portrait of Suvorov hanging in your living room. And I love houses like yours, old and warm; and they have a special smell. — Lamp oil“recalls melilot,” said Bazarov, yawning. - Why are there flies in these cute houses... Phew! “Tell me,” Arkady began after a short silence, “were you not oppressed as a child?” “You see what my parents are like.” The people are not strict. - Do you love them, Evgeny? - I love you, Arkady! - They love you so much! Bazarov was silent. - Do you know what I'm thinking about? - he said finally, throwing his hands behind his head.- Don't know. About what? “I think: it’s good for my parents to live in the world!” At the age of sixty, the father is busy, talking about “palliative” remedies, treating people, being generous with the peasants - carousing, in a word; and my mother feels good: her day is so crammed with all sorts of activities, oohs and oohs, that she has no time to come to her senses; and I...- And you? “And I think: I’m lying here under a haystack... The narrow place that I occupy is so tiny in comparison with the rest of the space where I am not and where no one cares about me; and the part of time that I will be able to live is so insignificant before eternity, where I have not been and will not be... But in this atom, in this mathematical point, the blood circulates, the brain works, it also wants something... What an outrage ! What nonsense! - Let me point out: what you say applies to all people in general... “You’re right,” Bazarov picked up. “I wanted to say that they, my parents, that is, are busy and don’t worry about their own insignificance, it doesn’t stink to them... but I... I only feel boredom and anger.” - Anger? why anger? - Why? How why? Have you forgotten? “I remember everything, but still I don’t recognize your right to be angry.” You're unhappy, I agree, but... - Eh! Yes, I see, Arkady Nikolaevich, you understand love, like all new young people: chick, chick, chick, chicken, and as soon as the chicken starts to approach, God bless your legs! I'm not like that. But enough about that. What cannot be helped is a shame to talk about. — He turned on his side. - Hey! there's a fine ant dragging a half-dead fly. Take her, brother, take her! Don’t look at the fact that she resists, take advantage of the fact that you, as an animal, have the right not to recognize feelings of compassion, not like our self-made brother! - You shouldn’t have said it, Evgeniy! When did you break yourself? Bazarov raised his head. “That’s all I’m excited about.” I didn’t break myself, so the woman won’t break me. Amen! It's over! You will never hear a word about this from me again. Both friends lay in silence for some time. “Yes,” Bazarov began, “man is a strange creature.” When you look from the side and from a distance at the deaf life that the “fathers” lead here, it seems: what’s better? Eat, drink and know that you are acting in the most correct, most reasonable manner. But no; the melancholy will overcome. I want to mess with people, even scold them, and mess with them. “We should arrange life in such a way that every moment in it is significant,” Arkady said thoughtfully. - Who's talking? Although significant things can be false and sweet, you can also make peace with insignificant things... but squabbles, squabbles... this is a disaster. - Squabbles do not exist for a person unless he wants to admit them. - Um... you said that opposite common place. - What? What do you call by this name? “But here’s what: to say, for example, that enlightenment is useful is a common place; and to say that enlightenment is harmful is the opposite commonplace. It seems more dapper, but, in essence, it’s the same thing. - Yes, the truth is where, on which side? - Where? I will answer you like an echo: where? — You are in a melancholic mood today, Evgeniy. - Indeed? The sun must have steamed me, and I can’t eat so many raspberries. “In that case, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a nap,” Arkady remarked. - Perhaps; Just don’t look at me: every person’s face is stupid when he sleeps. - Do you care what they think about you? - I don’t know what to tell you. A real person shouldn't care about this; a real person is one about whom there is nothing to think, but whom one must obey or hate. - Strange! “I don’t hate anyone,” Arkady said, after thinking. - And I have so many. You are a gentle soul, a weakling, where can you hate!.. You are timid, you have little hope for yourself... “And you,” interrupted Arkady, “rely on yourself?” Do you have a high opinion of yourself? Bazarov was silent. “When I meet a person who would not give up in front of me,” he said with emphasis, “then I will change my opinion about myself.” Hate! Yes, for example, you said today, passing by the hut of our elder Philip, - it is so nice, white, - now, you said, Russia will then reach perfection when the last peasant will have the same room, and each of us should contribute to this ... And I hated this last guy, Philip or Sidor, for whom I have to bend over backwards and who won’t even say thank you to me... and why should I thank him? Well, he will live in a white hut, and a burdock will grow out of me; Well, what next? - Come on, Evgeny... listening to you today, you will inevitably agree with those who reproach us for the lack of principles. -You sound like your uncle. There are no principles at all - you haven’t guessed it until now! - but there are sensations. Everything depends on them.- How so? - Yes, just like that. For example, I: I adhere to the negative direction - due to sensation. I’m happy to deny it, my brain works that way – and that’s it! Why do I like chemistry? Why do you love apples? - also due to sensation. It's all one. People will never go deeper than this. Not everyone will tell you this, and I won’t tell you this another time. - Well? and honesty is a feeling?- Still would! - Eugene! - Arkady began in a sad voice. - A? What? not to your taste? - Bazarov interrupted. - No, brother! I decided to mow down everything - go ahead and kick yourself!.. However, we were quite philosophical. “Nature evokes the silence of sleep,” said Pushkin. “He never said anything like that,” said Arkady. - Well, I didn’t say that, but I could and should have said that as a poet. By the way, he must have served in the military. - Pushkin was never a military man! - For mercy, on every page: for battle, for battle! for the honor of Russia! - What kind of stories are you inventing? After all, this is slander, after all. - Slander? How important! That's what I thought of using a word to scare! Whatever slander you bring against a person, he, in essence, deserves twenty times worse. - Let's sleep better! - Arkady said with annoyance. “With the greatest pleasure,” answered Bazarov. But neither one nor the other could sleep. Some almost hostile feeling gripped the hearts of both young people. About five minutes later they opened their eyes and looked at each other in silence. “Look,” Arkady suddenly said, “a dry maple leaf has come off and is falling to the ground; its movements are completely similar to the flight of a butterfly. Isn't it strange? The saddest and deadest is similar to the most cheerful and alive. - Oh my friend, Arkady Nikolaich! - exclaimed Bazarov, - I ask you one thing: don’t speak beautifully. - I speak as best I can... And finally, this is despotism. A thought occurred to me; why not express it? - So; but why shouldn’t I express my thoughts? I find that speaking beautifully is indecent. - What is decent? Swear? - Uh! Yes, I see you definitely intend to follow in your uncle’s footsteps. How happy this idiot would be if he heard you! - What did you call Pavel Petrovich? “I called him properly, an idiot.” - This, however, is unbearable! - Arkady exclaimed. - Yeah! a kindred feeling spoke,” Bazarov said calmly. “I noticed that it persists in people very stubbornly.” A person is ready to give up everything, he will part with every prejudice; but to admit that, for example, a brother who steals other people’s handkerchiefs is a thief is beyond his strength. And indeed: my Brother, my- and not a genius... is this possible? “A simple sense of justice began to speak in me, and not at all related,” Arkady objected passionately. - But since you don’t understand this feeling, you don’t have it Feel, then you cannot judge him. “In other words: Arkady Kirsanov is too exalted for my understanding,” I bow and fall silent. - Enough, please, Evgeny; We'll finally quarrel. - Oh, Arkady! Do me a favor, let's have a good fight once - to the point of extermination. - But this way, perhaps, we’ll end up with... - What are we going to fight? - Bazarov picked up. - Well? Here, in the hay, in such an idyllic setting, far from the light and human gaze - nothing. But you can't deal with me. I'll grab you by the throat now... Bazarov spread out his long and stiff fingers... Arkady turned and prepared, as if jokingly, to resist... But his friend’s face seemed so ominous to him, such a serious threat seemed to him in the crooked smile of his lips, in his sparkling eyes, that he felt involuntary timidity... - A! This is where you got to! - Vasily Ivanovich’s voice rang out at that moment, and the old staff doctor appeared before the young people, dressed in a homemade linen jacket and with a straw hat, also homemade, on his head. “I was looking for you, looking for you... But you chose a great place and are indulging in a wonderful activity.” Lying on the “ground”, looking at the “sky”... You know, this has some special meaning! “I only look at the sky when I want to sneeze,” Bazarov grumbled and, turning to Arkady, added in a low voice: “It’s a pity that I interrupted.” “Well, that’s enough,” Arkady whispered and secretly shook his friend’s hand. But no friendship can withstand such clashes for long. “I look at you, my young interlocutors,” Vasily Ivanovich said meanwhile, shaking his head and leaning with crossed arms on some cunningly twisted stick of his own creation, with the figure of a Turk instead of a knob, “I look and cannot help but admire.” How much strength, blooming youth, abilities, talents you have! Just... Castor and Pollux! - Look, he threw himself into mythology! - said Bazarov. “Now it’s clear that in his time he was a strong Latinist!” After all, I remember you were awarded a silver medal for your essay, huh? - Dioscuri, Dioscuri! - Vasily Ivanovich repeated. “But that’s enough, father, don’t be gentle.” “For once it’s possible,” muttered the old man. “However, I didn’t find you, gentlemen, in order to pay you compliments; but in order, firstly, to report to you that we will have dinner soon; and secondly, I wanted to preface you, Evgeny... You clever man, you know people, and you know women, and, therefore, you will excuse me... Your mother wanted to serve a prayer service on the occasion of your arrival. Don’t imagine that I am calling you to attend this prayer service: it is already over; but Father Alexey...- Pop? - Well, yes, priest; he will eat with us... I didn’t expect this and didn’t even advise... but somehow it turned out... he didn’t understand me... Well, and Arina Vlasevna... Moreover, he us a very good and reasonable person. - After all, he won’t eat my portion at lunch? - asked Bazarov. Vasily Ivanovich laughed. - For mercy's sake! “And I don’t demand anything more.” I am ready to sit down at the table with anyone. Vasily Ivanovich adjusted his hat. “I was sure in advance,” he said, “that you are above all prejudices.” Why, here I am, an old man, I’ve been living for sixty-two years, and I don’t even have them. (Vasily Ivanovich did not dare admit that he himself wanted the prayer service... He was no less devout than his wife.) And Father Alexei really wanted to meet you. You'll like him, you'll see. He doesn’t mind playing cards, and even... but this is between us... smokes a pipe. - What? After lunch we'll play Jumble and I'll beat him. - Hehehe, we'll see! Grandma said in two. - And what? Are you going to shake off the old days? - Bazarov said with special emphasis. Vasily Ivanovich’s bronze cheeks flushed vaguely. - Shame on you, Evgeny... What happened is past. Well, yes, I’m ready to admit to them that I had this passion in my youth - for sure; Yes, and I paid for it! However, it's so hot. Let me sit down with you. I'm not interfering, am I? “Not at all,” answered Arkady. Vasily Ivanovich sank onto the hay, groaning. “Your present bed, my sirs,” he began, “reminds me of my military, bivouac life, dressing stations, also somewhere like that near a haystack, and that too, thank God.” - He sighed. - I have experienced a lot, a lot in my lifetime. For example, if you allow me, I will tell you a curious episode of the plague in Bessarabia. — For which did you get Vladimir? - Bazarov picked up. - We know, we know... By the way, why don’t you wear it? “I told you that I have no prejudices,” muttered Vasily Ivanovich (he had only the day before ordered the red ribbon to be removed from his coat) and began to tell the episode of the plague. “But he fell asleep,” he suddenly whispered to Arkady, pointing at Bazarov and winking good-naturedly. - Eugene! get up! - he added loudly: - Let's go to dinner... Father Alexey, a prominent and plump man, with thick, carefully combed hair, with an embroidered belt on his purple silk cassock, turned out to be a very dexterous and resourceful man. He was the first to hasten to shake hands with Arkady and Bazarov, as if understanding in advance that they did not need his blessing, and generally behaved at ease. And he did not betray himself and did not offend others; By the way, he laughed at the seminary Latin and stood up for his bishop; I drank two glasses of wine, but refused the third; He accepted a cigar from Arkady, but did not smoke it, saying that he would take it home. The only thing that was not entirely pleasant about him was that every now and then he slowly and carefully raised his hand to catch flies on his face, and at the same time sometimes crushed them. He sat down at the green table with a moderate expression of pleasure and ended up beating Bazarov by two rubles and fifty kopecks in banknotes: in Arina Vlasyevna’s house they had no idea about the account for the silver... She was still sitting next to her son (she didn’t play cards played), still resting her cheek on her fist, and got up only to order some new dish to be served. She was afraid to caress Bazarov, and he did not encourage her, did not challenge her to caress; Moreover, Vasily Ivanovich advised her not to “bother” him too much. “Young people are reluctant to do this,” he told her (there is no need to say what the dinner was that day: Timofeich himself galloped at dawn for some special Cherkassy beef; the headman rode in the other direction for burbot, ruffs and crayfish; for mushrooms alone, the women received forty-two kopecks in copper); but Arina Vlasyevna’s eyes, relentlessly turned to Bazarov, expressed more than just devotion and tenderness: they also showed sadness, mixed with curiosity and fear, and some kind of humble reproach. However, Bazarov had no time to figure out what exactly his mother’s eyes expressed; he rarely addressed her, and then only with a short question. Once he asked her for her hand in happiness; she quietly placed her soft hand on his hard and wide palm. “What,” she asked after a while, “didn’t help?” “It’s gotten even worse,” he answered with a careless grin. “They are already taking a real risk,” Father Alexei said as if with regret and stroked his beautiful beard. “The Napoleonic rule, father, the Napoleonic rule,” Vasily Ivanovich picked up and went with the ace. “It’s what brought him to the island of St. Helena,” said Father Alexei and covered his ace with a trump card. - Would you like some currant water, Enyushechka? - asked Arina Vlasyevna. Bazarov just shrugged his shoulders. - No! - he said the next day to Arkady, - I’ll leave here tomorrow. Boring; I want to work, but I can’t do it here. I’ll go back to your village; I left all my medications there. You, by at least, you can lock yourself. And here my father repeats to me: “My office is at your service - no one will disturb you”; and he himself is not a step away from me. Yes, and it’s a shame to somehow shut yourself out from him. Well, mother too. I hear her sigh behind the wall, and if you go out to her, she has nothing to say. “She will be very upset,” said Arkady, “and so will he.” - I'll come back to them.- When? - Yes, that’s how I’ll go to St. Petersburg. - I especially feel sorry for your mother. - What's wrong? Did she please you with berries or something? Arkady lowered his eyes. “You don’t know your mother, Evgeny.” She's not only a great woman, she's very smart, really. This morning she talked to me for half an hour, and it was so practical and interesting. “Is that right, everything was spread about me?” “We weren’t talking about you alone.” - May be; you know better from the outside. If a woman can hold a conversation for half an hour, this is a good sign. But I will still leave. “It won’t be easy for you to tell them this news.” They are all talking about what we will do in two weeks. - Not easy. The devil pulled me to tease my father today; The other day he ordered one of his quitrent peasants to be whipped - and he did it very well; yes, don’t look at me with such horror, he did very well, because he is a terrible thief and drunkard; Only my father did not expect that I, as they say, became known about this. He was very embarrassed, and now I have to upset him on top of that... Nothing! It will heal before the wedding. Bazarov said: “Nothing!” - but a whole day passed before he decided to notify Vasily Ivanovich of his intention. Finally, already saying goodbye to him in the office, he said with a forced yawn: - Yes... I almost forgot to tell you... Let's send our horses to Fedot tomorrow as a stand. Vasily Ivanovich was amazed. - Is Mr. Kirsanov leaving us? - Yes; and I'm leaving with him. Vasily Ivanovich turned over on the spot.- You are leaving? - Yes I need. Please make arrangements for the horses. “Okay...” the old man babbled, “to the setup... okay... just... just... How is this possible?” — I need to go see him for a short time. I'll come back here again later. - Yes! For a short time... Okay. - Vasily Ivanovich took out a handkerchief and, blowing his nose, bent down almost to the ground. - Well? this... everything will be. I thought you were with us... longer. Three days... This, this, after three years, is not enough; not enough, Evgeniy! - Yes, I’m telling you that I’ll be back soon. I need. - Necessary... Well? First of all, we must fulfill our duty... So, send the horses? Fine. Of course, Arina and I didn’t expect this. She begged flowers from a neighbor, she wanted to clean your room. (Vasily Ivanovich no longer mentioned that every morning, at first light, standing on his bare feet in shoes, he conferred with Timofeich and, with trembling fingers, taking out one tattered banknote after another, entrusted him with various purchases, especially focusing on food supplies and red wine, which, as far as one could see, was very popular with the young people.) The main thing is freedom; this is my rule... no need to embarrass... no... He suddenly fell silent and headed towards the door. - We'll see you soon, father, really. But Vasily Ivanovich, without turning around, just waved his hand and left. Returning to the bedroom, he found his wife in bed and began to pray in a whisper so as not to wake her. However, she woke up. - Is it you, Vasily Ivanovich? she asked.- I, mother! -Are you from Enyusha? You know, I'm afraid: is it safe for him to sleep on the sofa? I told Anfisushka to give him your camp mattress and new pillows; I would give him our down jacket, but I remember he doesn’t like to sleep softly. - It’s okay, mother, don’t worry. He feels good. “Lord, have mercy on us sinners,” he continued his prayer in a low voice. Vasily Ivanovich took pity on his old lady; he did not want to tell her at night what grief awaited her. Bazarov and Arkady left the next day. In the morning everything in the house was already gloomy; Anfisushka's dishes were falling out of her hands; even Fedka was perplexed and ended up taking off his boots. Vasily Ivanovich fussed more than ever: he was apparently brave, spoke loudly and knocked his feet, but his face was drawn, and his eyes constantly slid past his son. Arina Vlasyevna was crying quietly; she would have been completely at a loss and would not have been able to control herself if her husband had not tried to persuade her for two whole hours early in the morning. When Bazarov, after repeated promises to return no later than a month, finally broke free from the embrace that held him and got into the tarantass; when the horses started moving, and the bell rang, and the wheels began to spin, and now there was no need to look after him, and the dust settled, and Timofeich, all hunched over and staggering as he walked, trudged back to his closet; when the old people were left alone in their house, which also seemed to have suddenly shrunk and become decrepit, Vasily Ivanovich, who had been bravely waving his handkerchief on the porch a few moments before, sank down onto a chair and dropped his head on his chest. “Abandoned, abandoned us,” he babbled, “abandoned us; He got bored with us. One like a finger now, one!” - he repeated several times and each time brought forward his hand with the separated index finger. Then Arina Vlasyevna approached him and, leaning her gray head against his gray head, said: “What to do, Vasya! The son is a cut off piece. He’s like a falcon: he wanted - he flew, he wanted - he flew away; and you and I, like honey mushrooms in a hollow tree, sit side by side and don’t move. Only I will remain unchanged for you forever, just as you are for me.” Vasily Ivanovich accepted the hands from his face and hugged his wife, his girlfriend, as tightly as he had never hugged her in his youth: she consoled him in his sadness.