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• Full text
• 1898
• Bargamat and Garaska
• Protection (one day)
• from the life of the headquarters of Kablukova
• What Galka
• 1899
• Angelok
In Saburov
• Valya
• Friend
• Youth
• Petka at the dacha
• 1900
• in the dark distance
• Lie
• Message
• Silence
• on the river
• The first fee
• is excellent life for the resurrected
Petri
• In the basement
• Hotel
• Once upon a time
• Foreigner
• Book
• Alarm
• Case
• Laughter
9012 Wall 0013

A foreigner

I

From eleven o'clock in the morning until eight in the evening, student Chistyakov went to class and only once a week, on Wednesdays, when classes with students began later, he dropped in for a minute at the university to check in at the pedal. He never went to lectures and did not even know where the classrooms for second-year lawyers were located, since he did not like professors very much and next spring he was going to go abroad forever - to live and study there. For this very purpose, he got so much work and saved up money, and in the evenings, returning from lessons, he studied German. He decided to settle in Germany, in Berlin; his old friend had been living there for a year now and writing long and enthusiastic letters from there. And in each letter he persistently called him. nine0005

But it happened in the evenings that something roared in Chistyakov's head, like water falling from a mill wheel; the unpleasant faces of the disciples flickered before the weary eyes, and the left side hurt badly. Then it was impossible to study, and he either went to bed, counted the accumulated money and dreamed of his life in Berlin, or went down to the sixty-fourth room, where students from all over the "North Pole" usually gathered in the evenings - that was the name of the rooms, in whom he lived. He did not like the students who gathered there, just as he did not like everything that surrounded him: he did not like the streets along which he walked, he did not like the room in which he lived, he did not like the whole unsettled, chaotic, barbarously rude and meaningless life. Even worse than the barbarians seemed to him the people whom he saw everywhere, on the streets and in the houses: the barbarians were bold, but these only did not respect either themselves or others, and often a terrible ghost of stupid violence and senseless cruelty grew up between them. But the realization that he would soon leave them forever, see other, good people, live a real, settled and good life, reconciled him with the remaining people and caused a strange sadness and quiet regret. And when he came to them, tall, with a narrow and sore chest, with a bloodless face of a faster and feverishly shining eyes, his quiet “hello!” sounded like a sad "goodbye!". nine0005

And downstairs, in the sixty-fourth room, it was always so fun, carefree and noisy. Because they drank a lot of vodka and smoked in the room, they sang and shouted a lot, they slept on the floor and on the sofas, the air in it was gray, heavy, it smelled strongly of alcohol and herring, and disorder always reigned, so strong and invincible that he sometimes seemed special. And the owners of the room, Vanka Kostyurin and Panov, looked like their own room: disorderly and firmly established in their disorder, in the morning they drank vodka or beer instead of tea, were awake at night and slept during the day. nine0005

They had very little property, but there were always a row of empty bottles on the windows, ranging in height from a quarter to a hundred, and a tambourine and a triangle hung on the wall, and there was a good harmony. Since one of the roommates, Serb Rajko Vukic, one night walked with a tambourine along the corridor and terribly frightened all the tenants who thought about the fire, every evening at eleven o'clock the bellboy Sergei came and took away the tambourine until the morning. And in the morning he would bring it along with a couple of beers, and the long-whiskered Vanka Kostyurin, very gloomy in the mornings, sang a short song on a tambourine - also for some reason very gloomy. And then the harmony crumbled into a sonorous and cheerful trill - and a stupid and incomprehensible day for Chistyakov began. nine0005

When in the evening Chistyakov came to the sixty-fourth room, narrow-chested, sickly, bearing the traces of a day's work and a strictly defined life goal, the company greeted him with slight mockery and hostility.

– A foreigner is crawling! – proclaimed Vanka Kostyurin.

And the students laughed, because with his whole face, long hair, blue shirt peeking out from under his jacket, Chistyakov least of all looked like a foreigner. Yes, and his dialect was the most Great Russian: soft, rounded and thoughtful. nine0005

Students did not like him because he was completely indifferent to their life, did not understand its joys and looked like a person who sits at the station waiting for a train, smokes, talks, sometimes even seems to be addicted, but he himself does not reduce eye from the clock. He did not say anything about himself, and no one knew why at the age of twenty-nine he was only in his second year, but on the other hand he talked a lot and in detail about abroad and life there. And to everyone he saw for the first time, he reported with quiet delight somewhere and once heard the news: that in Christiania, on the best square, the people erected two beautiful monuments: Bjornson and Ibsen, while the latter were still alive, and when Bjornson and Ibsen pass through the square, they see their image cast from eternal iron and bronze, and they rejoice in the love of the people so much that they both cry. And as he told this, Chistyakov looked away, and his eyelids filled with tears and reddened. nine0005

He willingly talked about how much money he had saved up for abroad - two hundred and twenty rubles, and once he even bothered all the students with a complaint about how vilely they had treated him in one lesson, cheating him for eleven rubles. So, they took it and calmly cheated, and when he began to demand, they first laughed, and then they kicked him out.

- After all, this is hard-earned money! he said with anger and anguish. “After all, maybe they cost me two years of my life!”

- Well, don't whine, I'm tired! Vanka Kostyurin told him. - Do you want us to collect these eleven rubles among ourselves? nine0005

He offered this from the bottom of his heart and was very surprised and offended when Chistyakov indignantly rejected the offer.

– You are not a comrade! - said Kostyurin reproachfully, and everyone agreed with him that Chistyakov was not a comrade. This was also evident from the contemptuous indifference with which he treated all student interests: no matter what important happened, no matter how excited the people in the sixty-fourth issue, he was silent, absently drummed his fingers on the table, and if the debate dragged on, started yawning and left to study German. nine0005

– I'm not from here! - he said with a playful apology, but in his joke there was a terrible and for some reason very offensive truth. And it was unpleasant to feel that they did not know at all this narrow-chested man who was so directly moving towards his goal and did not want to say where so much strength and determination came from in his sick chest.

And Vanka Kostyurin especially disliked him; he himself wore high boots, and in the summer in the countryside a coat, respected everything Russian, vodka, kvass, fatty cabbage soup and peasants, and tried to speak in a rough voice and in a common folk way: instead of “it seems” he said “seem” and often used the word “just now” . And he did not understand Chistyakov's stubborn desire to go abroad and for some reason ranked him in the same category of phenomena as white gloves, constant sobriety, visits and fashionable boots; and two other names given by him to Chistyakov were: "aristocrat" and "dog old age." The rest were indifferent to everything Russian, willingly scolded him and told Chistyakov that they themselves would go to study and live abroad if they had money. And he persuaded them, proved that money can always be obtained, he was worried, but then peered into their good-natured, half-drunk faces, remembered their whole lazy, dissolute life - and indifferently fell silent. Somewhere in a corner, on a rumpled bed, he sat down and looked out from there with shining and distant eyes, so pale, narrow-chested and resolute. nine0005

And the rest lived cheerfully and carelessly with all the carelessness of youth and health, as if they had neither yesterday nor tomorrow, nor the damned questions that the damned reality brings with it. Broad-shouldered, hairy, thick-necked Tolkachev, with small and dull eyes, showed the strength of his muscles, lifted weights and forced everyone to look at him and admire: he was a member of the gymnastic society, recognized only strength and openly despised the university, students, science and all sorts of questions . And many hated him, but were afraid of his monstrous strength, his rudeness, which stops at nothing, and even behind his back did not dare to speak ill of him. And when someone, out of patience, began to argue with him, he always began the argument with the words:

– Of course, everyone is free in their beliefs, but you, Kostya, are hardly right...

But he did not understand this delicacy and calmly ended the argument:

– Well, it’s worth talking to you fools. If it were my will, every day I would fight all of you in the stable.

And everyone pretended that he was joking and laughed. Master Panov was chopping onions for herring and weeping; Serb Raiko Vukic, short, lean, wiry, hook-nosed, with a sharp cleft chin, on which spiky stubble protruded, and with a drooping mustache, looked at the vodka, was silent and waited for it to be poured. This Raiko was a weirdo. When sober, he was silent, and when he drank a little vodka, he would start talking passionately and stubbornly about Serbia in a funny and broken language - some petty and uninteresting things: about parties, about radicals and Turks, about some nasty and terrible man Bodemlich and more about something. And he praised small and inferior Serbia so much that everyone died with laughter and deliberately teased him. nine0005

– My God! Vanka Kostyurin was surprised. - He talks about Serbia, but it's all about this herring. The Turk will take it and swallow it.

- Choke! Raiko objected, bristling his mustache, chin, sharp eyes, his entire prickly and sinewy figure.

– And he will spit out: what rubbish, he will say!

Raiko flared up, cast an angry glance around the audience and savagely threw:

– Donkeys!

And went to his room. The comrades laughed, and Chistyakov, smiling sadly, thought what a really small and sad country of fervent and weak people, constant disarray, something petty and pitiful, like the game of children in soldiers. And he felt sorry for little Raiko and wanted to take him abroad so that he could see a real, broad and intelligent life there. nine0005

When the bottles were half empty, the students began to sing, play the harmonium, and send someone for Raiko, who was considered a tambourine expert. Raiko would appear and murmur grimly, his eyes burning like those of a wolf and as sharp as the sting of a wasp. If it became very cheerful and heated blood began to shake through the veins, Vanka Kostyurin jumped up, twitched his shoulders and danced Russian. Cumbersome and clumsy, he was light in his dance and rushed around the room like a feather: he beat out a frequent fraction with his heels, squealed, hooted, and the whole room seemed to spin and tremble from the knock, the flooding sounds of harmony and the choking growl of the tambourine. And the eyes of all those who were watching gleamed, their arms and legs twitched, and someone stepped into a corner, waved his hand with hopeless delight, and from somewhere in the depths exhaled a languid and sweet: eh-h! And they all seemed to Chistyakov like crazy people. nine0005

Having finished the dance and panting heavily, Vanka Kostyurin asked Raiko:

- Come on, Raiko, show me how you dance. They probably don't know how.

- They don't know how, but they know how better.

- Show me, don't be afraid! I know you dance well.

Everyone was persuading, and Raiko, looking around fearfully and angrily, put down the tambourine. Then his face became ferocious and bloodthirsty, and he made several strange, impetuous and prickly movements - as if he was not going to dance, but to choke, scratch and kill. Without music, serious, a little scary, he looked so much like a little savage that everyone burst into laughter, and Raiko again swore in an offended way and left. nine0005

"How rude they are!" thought Chistyakov, and he felt sorry for little Raiko, who loved his little homeland so much.

There was a student Karuev in the sixty-fourth room, always even-tempered, always cheerful and slightly arrogant. Under him, everything changed somewhat: only good songs were sung, no one teased Raiko, and the strongman Tolkachev, who knew no bounds either in impudence or in servility, helpfully helped him put on his coat. And Karuev sometimes deliberately forgot to say hello to him and forced him to do tricks like a learned dog:

- Come on, meat, raise the table by the leg!

Tolkachev smugly raised.

– Come on, bend the two-kopeck piece.

Tolkachev bent over and bashfully said:

- And my dad could tie a poker into a bow.

But Karuev no longer listened to him and went to talk to Chistyakov, who was sitting alone. With him he was always serious and pitifully attentive, like a doctor, and when he talked, he looked close and kindly into his eyes. But Chistyakov also felt sorry for him and constantly invited him abroad. nine0005

– How are you going? Karuev asked.

- Two hundred and twenty collected. Another hundred and eighty is missing. And you? Chistyakov smiled.

– I don't. It will be hard for you there, my dear. Your health is yours...

– The climate is good there.

- That's how it is, but still it would be better to go to the Crimea...

Chistyakov's pale face became even paler, and his eyelids turned intensely red. Trembling with pain and horror, as if a foreign country was being torn from his heart, he whispered with anguish and despair:0005

– I will die here. I will die. Lord! There are people, there is life, but here…” He waved his hand hopelessly.

- Well, well! Karuev reassured him. - And go with God, if you want.

“There, you know,” Chistyakov whispered tenderly, “there, in Christiania, a monument was erected to Bjornson alive. And Ibsen. And every day they… walk by and see it. Lord! If only I could touch that noble land, if only I could breathe in that air once!... My chest is weak, consumption, they say, maybe. I would die there. nine0005

Karuev gently stroked his knee.

You will not die. You will outlive us! And it must be that life has broken you quite a bit. See nerves.

– Nerves! Chistyakov smiled. “Not nerves, but here,” he poked his chest, “that’s where your life sits with me!”

And he began to tell how cheap everything is abroad, and people are only expensive. Not like ours: everything is expensive, but people are cheap.

II

Life became more difficult for Chistyakov in the second half of the year. His strength decreased, his left side hurt more often, and in the lessons he was easily irritated, and the students were stupid, impudent and lazy. And among the students in the sixty-fourth issue it got worse. There was a story that everyone soon forgot, but Chistyakov could not forget, it struck him so painfully. It was back in November: strongman Tolkachev hit Vanka Kostyurin in the face, having quarreled with him for something. It was late in the evening, they were standing in a crowd in the yard, everyone was very drunk and vaguely understood what was happening. nine0005

– What are you doing me for? shouted Kostyurin.

- But for what! - Tolkachev said and struck again so that Kostyurin leaned over in two, barely stood on his feet, and blood appeared on his teeth.

Everyone frowned, shouted, but no one dared to intervene, and only Chistyakov, with a hysterical cry, rushed at the huge Tolkachev and awkwardly hit him, bruising his thumb. Then something heavy, like a pound weight, fell on his head, he fell, and when he got up, everyone stood in a circle and jumped on Tolkachev, but did not beat him, but only shouted. But still, he was a little scared and made excuses, shifting all the blame on Kostyurin; the latter spat out black saliva on the snow and said:

- Brothers, is it possible!

And ten minutes later they were reconciled. They stretched out their hands and kissed, and Chistyakov clasped his hands and wept from pain, grief and anger.

– Lord! They beat him, and he kisses! After all, this is meanness!

– What about you? Tolkachev asked over his shoulder. “Do you want me to throw it over the roof?”

– Foreigner! - Kostyurin said contemptuously, and everyone, clamoring and laughing, moved to the gate, and Chistyakov went to his room, lay down and wept for a long time in the dark. Violence, injustice, like a cloud, stood over him, and wonderful and bright lands seemed to him a distant, inaccessible paradise. "If only I could die there!" he thought, mortally yearning. nine0005

The next day Kostyurin felt ashamed, and for the first time in the entire time of our acquaintance he came to Chistyakov's room, looked around for a long time and embarrassedly and praised the room.

– How wonderful it is here! Like a nun! - he said, and then immediately burst into tears, and large bright tears rolled down his long, twisted mustache and dripped onto the red cloth of the dirty numbered table. A week later, everything was forgotten, and Tolkachev again showed the strength of his muscles and made them admire them, but now Chistyakov could not look at his red thick neck and huge fist without horror and felt in his presence as defenseless and weak as a chicken in front of a hawk. A brute and blunt force stood menacingly before him, and there was no defense in anything. Still, he stopped shaking hands with Tolkachev, but he met this with contemptuous and sincere laughter and often spoke to him:0005

– Well, a foreigner! Will the devil take you abroad soon? Hurry, otherwise I'll get together somehow and feel your ribs.

Chistyakov was scared; he was silent and thought: "He does not even understand that it is indecent to speak to a man who does not shake hands. " And Tolkachev laughed:

– Don't be afraid: I'm joking. Why do I need you, old dog!

And everyone sighed with relief, because they were afraid that Tolkachev would really beat him, and sometimes they persuaded Chistyakov to make peace. nine0005

“After all, he is a good fellow,” they said half-sincerely, since they did not dare to tell the truth about Tolkachev behind their backs and did not dare to think it. And only one Karuev approved of Chistyakov and almost stopped visiting the sixty-fourth issue.

Money was accumulated two hundred and ninety rubles, and there was hope that by the spring, by the month of April, Chistyakov would collect all four hundred. He would have had more, but at one lesson with the merchant they again lacked ten rubles, although they promised to pay, and in addition, he gave fifteen rubles to Raiko, who received almost nothing from home and was supported by the money of his comrades: for his share in the apartment contributed by Vanka Kostyurin. With money in his pocket, Chistyakov became calmer and more confident. For whole evenings he sat in his room, dreaming about how good he would live abroad, and had already begun to pack some small things. And when he put it to bed, his heart was filled with a quiet, transparent and pure, like spring water, sadness - about something distant, unknown and sweet, and it constantly seemed that he was forgetting to take something with him, something very important and expensive. , without which he will have a lot of trouble. nine0005

He began to treat his comrades more gently, he did not get angry with them and only regretted them. He regretted that they were staying with the terrible Tolkachev; I regretted that they drink like that and their whole life will be dull, dreary, like others, and they will not achieve anything of the good that they sometimes dream of. A strange, unsettled, nightmarish life, like a wild dream, will devour them, as it has devoured thousands of others, and their attempts to arrange a different, better life will be in vain. And he was especially sorry for the energetic and courageous Karuev, who beats his head against the wall and has lately become very gloomy and uneven. nine0005

- Let's go! - persuaded Chistyakov.

– Where to? Karuev didn't understand.

- Yes, abroad.

Karuev answered irritably:

– I thought that! – but then he caught himself and politely added: – Of course, go. Why are you sitting here? Treat yourself there, move your nerves.

– I want to spend the summer in Switzerland.

– Here, here! What better, - praised Karuev and politely, as if he was unfamiliar, said goodbye to Chistyakov. He also left for a while. nine0005

In mid-March, one of the owners of the sixty-fourth issue, Panov, was celebrating his name day and called Chistyakov. We were already on wheels, and when Chistyakov left the last lesson, he smelled of comforting freshness and the first warmth of spring. "Soon!" - he thought, and his heart fluttered like a bird, and something sad and sick grew in his soul, like all those who leave for a long time, forever, - and drowned in a wave of wide joy and triumph. The night sky over the city was black, and huge white flakes of clouds were mysteriously flying across the sky, like giant white birds. They rushed in one direction, and in their quick and silent flight there was a mighty call for the same free and happy flight. "Soon! Soon!" thought Chistyakov. nine0005

The people had already gathered a long time ago when he came to the rooms; vodka and tea were already drunk, and everyone was going to sing. Chistyakov sat wearily in the corner, on top of his overcoats folded in a heap, and looked at the audience with friendly sadness: in just a month he was leaving for a long time - forever. They sang two student songs in chorus, and then three stood out: the conservator Mikhailova, who had a good soprano, the birthday man himself, who sang in a strong and beautiful bass, and another blond student, a tenor. Silence came, and the bass sang lonely and slowly, and Chistyakov shuddered: the song was so unexpectedly good:0005

Quiet but-o-o-chi to all weary. ..

Majestic, powerfully restrained sounds were imbued with solemn peace, great sadness and love: someone big and dark, like night itself, someone all-seeing and therefore, pitiful and infinitely sad, quietly enveloped the earth with his soft cover, and his powerful and restrained voice should have reached its extreme limits. "My God, it's about us, about us!" Chistyakov thought, and he reached out to the singers.

And when the last sound died away, a sonorous tenor entered and repeated - as if the earth responded to pitying and affectionate words, and her prayerful speech breathed a plea:

with the same majestic sadness and peace, a languid, courageous bass flowed in space:

All day long, not knowing its rest ...

Something sparkling and precious, like tears, fell from a high sky and pierced the darkness of a wide, thick bass and a gentle hot moan mingled with the cries of the earth:

Who bought their own by labor!..

“My God, my God! After all, she sings! thought Chistyakov, peering into the girl's pale face. “Oh dear, this is about us, about us!”

And all three, mingling their voices, piercing each other with them, merging into one majestic, mournful harmony, repeated: Then other melancholy songs were sung, but Chistyakov did not hear them, and everything in him trembled with infinite pity for himself, who worked tirelessly all day, for someone impersonal, big, in need of peace, love and quiet rest. nine0005

He was brought to his senses by a cheerful and noisy conversation around Rajko Vukic. They teased him again, but he, beyond his usual, was silent, and only his eyes, sharp as the sting of a wasp, darted from one to the other, and his bristly cleft chin moved.

“What, Raiko,” asked Vanka Kostyurin, “do you all have crocheted noses like yours?”

Raiko answered slowly:

– The other day, a Serb, Boiovich, was stabbed to death at the border. The Turkish were slaughtered.

And everyone clearly imagined a slaughtered Serb, some kind of Boiovich, who has a deadly yellow and hooked nose, like Raiko's, and a wide black wound on his throat. It was unpleasant, and Kostyurin said with a mock laugh:

- How important! There's still a lot left.

Raiko bristled, turned pale, and the thorns on his split chin quivered. And when he spoke, his voice was metallic and harsh.

- You are a deceiver. Why are you dancing Russian? You have no homeland, no home! You are a pig. nine0005

But Chistyakov answered, as if the reproach had been directed at him. Silently and calmly, he said:

– Do you, Raiko, love Serbia?

- Well, yes, I do.

- Ah!

Everyone was silent - and, grabbing a round table knife, shaking it in the air, Raiko shouted wildly:

- I'll kill you! Oh how evil I am! How my heart hurts! Oh, how it hurts!..

He threw the knife against the wall with force, and the knife hit flat and bounced off with a clang. Raiko went out without looking.

Half an hour later Chistyakov went after him; he felt sorry for little Raiko, who loved his little homeland so much that had mortally offended him. When he was still walking along the long, semi-dark corridor, lost among identical, similar doors, some strange sounds touched his ear, similar to a howl or a cry for help. On the other door was an inscription in chalk: "Raiko Vukic", and from there came these strange and now loud sounds. There was no answer to Chistyakov's knock, and he went in, vaguely recognizing against the light background of the window the small, sharp figure of Raiko: he was sitting on the windowsill, in the dark, and singing in an unusually high guttural voice. nine0005

– Raiko! Chistyakov called quietly.

But Raiko didn't hear. He did not hear the door slam, he did not hear Chistyakov's steps and his voice; he looked at the high brick wall with a black stripe of smoky soot and sang. He sang about a distant homeland; about her dull suffering, about the tears of orphaned mothers and wives; he begged her, her distant homeland, to take him, little Raiko, and bury him with her and give him the happiness of kissing the land on which he was born before his death; he sang about cruel revenge on his enemies; about love and compassion for the defeated brothers, about the Serb Boiovich, who has a wide black wound on his throat, about how his heart hurts, little Raiko, separated from his motherland, unfortunate, suffering homeland. nine0005

Chistyakov did not understand the words, but he heard sounds, and wild, rough, spontaneous, like the groan of the earth itself, more like the howl of an abandoned lonely dog ​​than a human song - they breathed such hopeless longing and burning hatred that it is not necessary there were words to see the bloody heart of the singer.

Raiko's voice died away on a high, piercing note, and they sat silent for such a long time. Then Chistyakov came closer and saw dry and vicious eyes burning like those of a wolf. nine0005

– Raiko! he said. - You have not been to your homeland for a long time; go there, I'll give you money. I have extra.

“There is a house there,” Raiko said thoughtfully.

- Which house?

– So. The house is worth it. Don't you know what a house is like? Ordinary. And when a cart goes past him, she creaks: wai, wai.

– Take the money, Raiko.

“Don't bother me,” Raiko said. - Don't interfere, please. Go to yours, and I will be alone. My heart hurts a lot. nine0005

But Chistyakov did not go to his friends; he went to his room, sat on the windowsill, like Raiko, and began to look at the sky, in which he read something good today. The gigantic white birds still flew mysteriously and silently, and between them the bottomless sky turned black with gaps, but now this happy flight was alien and cold, and it did not say anything to a thoughtful person.

"Here I am flying!" Chistyakov thought, trying to recall the recent feeling of freedom and lightness, but another vague and imperious feeling grew in his chest, and beat and trembled like a trapped bird. And he understood what it was: he passionately wanted to sing like Raiko, and also sing about his homeland. And he was glad that he understood, smiled and quite clearly felt the sounds of prayer locked in his chest and hot, sonorous tears. He opened his mouth - but it became embarrassing that someone could come up and find him singing, and he locked the door with a double turn of the key. And back, to the window, for some reason he walked on tiptoe. nine0005

– Well! - he said to himself and sang something without words - and the sound that swept through and died in miserable writhings was so liquid, so basely indecisive, that Chistyakov became frightened. “Words are needed, it’s impossible without words,” he hastily justified himself and began to look for words; and many words flashed through his brain, but among them there was not a single one born of love for the motherland. He strained all his memory, all his imagination, searched in the past, searched in the books that he had read - and there were many sonorous and beautiful words, but there was not a single one with which the suffering son could turn to his motherland. He felt it closely, he almost saw this word and knew how it differed from others: all other words are flat and poor, like beggars on the porch, and this one is doused with blood and tears, like hot coal, and bright, like heavenly fire, - and couldn't find it. And he felt himself so empty and poor, like the last beggar, the very last beggar, whose soul is callous, like an alms thrown to him. nine0005

– Oh my God! Oh my God! he whispered in horror. - Yes, how is it? Because I'm a good person! I am a good person!

And he thought that he would find what he needed sooner if he began to write. Breaking matches with trembling hands, he lit a candle, furiously threw a German textbook off the table, and pondered over a sheet of white paper. And hesitantly, stammering, his hand led him out:

"Motherland".

And stopped. And she repeated more firmly:

"Motherland!"

And quickly, in capital letters, he finished:

"Forgive me!"

Chistyakov glanced at what was written and fell face down on the paper and wept out of pity for his homeland, for himself, for all those who toiled and knew no rest. And he was afraid that he could leave for a long time, forever, and die there, in foreign lands, and with his fading hearing catch someone else's and alien speech. And he realized that he could not live without a homeland and could not be happy while she was unhappy, and in this feeling there was a mighty joy and a mighty, spontaneous, thousand-voiced sorrow. She broke the fetters in which his soul languished; she merged it with the soul of an unknown, many-faced suffering brother - and it was as if a thousand fiery hearts fluttered in his sick, exhausted chest. And in hot tears he said:

– Take me, motherland!

And downstairs Raiko sang again, and wildly free and bold were the angrily yearning sounds of his song.

Albatros White Beach 4* (Egypt, Hurghada) 🏨 Hotel tours 2023

INSTRUCTIONS FOR USEGood time of day! Were in

3

INSTRUCTIONS FOR USE
Good time of day!
Were in this hotel from 04/01/2012 to 04/15/2012. I am writing the facts, and it is up to you to decide whether to go to this hotel or pay extra and relax in another hotel. nine0002 So:
The all-inclusive system operates from 10:00 to 23:00 (alcohol), meals: breakfast from 07:00 to 10:00, French fries on the beach from 12:00 to 13:00, lunch from 13:00 until 15:00, dinner from 19:00 to 22:00. If you arrived after 22:00 (after the restaurant closes), you will be fed in a paid restaurant (for free), but only if you ask for it, no one will offer you. If you have a plane before breakfast starts at the hotel, dry rations will be waiting for you at the reception, you need to pick them up yourself, no one will remind you. nine0002 The hotel has a five-story new building, which is renovated, new furniture; rooms in a building above the central hall, there was once a small repair, furniture was updated in some rooms, there is no safe; and two-story bungalows for 4 rooms, there are small 1-2-bed rooms with a balcony / terrace and without all this (only a window), there are apartments with a living room and two bedrooms, bungalows are the oldest buildings, some of them have a small cosmetic repair and slightly updated furniture, and in some everything is very old, there is no safe, at the time of our presence, 4 bungalows were being renovated, and all this construction was bordered by a view of palm trees. nine0002 Settlement starts from $50, and then you can bargain. (some get divorced, some get divorced for $100, some don't give a penny and, thanks to the scandal, live in good rooms). You just remember that when buying a ticket, you indicate the size of the room and it is by no means 15 square meters, but there are such ones here.
The hotel has 2 swimming pools (children and adults-120 cm deep) at the reception and 2 swimming pools (children and adults 160 cm deep, 40m long and 20m wide) closer to the beach. The pool bar is not open yet. Pools are clean, washed and cleaned every other day, chlorinated every day at 17:00. nine0002 Breakfast, lunch, dinner take place in one dining room (Green House), which is located at the reception, until 10:00 in this dining room you can take only water, Jupi, coffee, tea. Alcohol from 10:00 to 23:00 in this dining room, at the reception bar and at the beach bar.
Means the place of eating: Tablecloths in the dining room are changed once every few days, or in the event that it is FULLY flooded. In all other cases, crumbs and food debris are brushed off from it, or the tablecloth is turned inside out and back several times. From the serving cutlery, pepper shaker (hodgepodge not on all tables) and a paper napkin (only one per person). There are a lot of tables, but if the hotel is completely full (which we actually had), there were not enough tables for everyone. The waiters were in no hurry to serve the empty tables, people with full plates dragged the staff to give at least cutlery. Dirty dishes are carried away, of course, instantly, but not because it is necessary, but because it is sorely lacking (no plates, no cutlery, no glasses). As for washing dishes: I didn’t see how the plates are washed, but the bottom of the plates is always greasy, and the glasses are washed right in the dining room bar in the dishwasher without detergents and degreasers in slightly warm water. In the bar at the reception, the bartender rinses the glasses just under the tap. Before you drink, you need to wipe the glasses with alcohol wipes, or something. In the early days, I neglected this advice, which was given to me by the guests who had a rest here, and immediately earned a stop (herpes), in principle, every fifth person went here with these inflammations on the lips. The food is quite simple, what was not eaten for dinner was exhibited as an addition to breakfast. For lunch, in addition to potatoes, soup and several types of salads, there were two types of meat dishes (one of them is chicken all the time). For dinner every day there was a barbecue (either fish, then meatballs, then chicken). There was no fruit for breakfast, but for lunch and dinner dates, oranges (sometimes slightly rotten and cut off), very green melon, 2 times passion fruit and 3 times tangerines. In general - pancakes (dinner), boiled vegetables, pasta, eggplant cutlets, sometimes fried fish, eggs, a kind of yogurt (for breakfast), sour feta, cheeses, tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, soups, Lola Rosso lettuce and a few small variations. There are no pastries, except for unleavened rolls (only for breakfast there are several types). Desserts (similar to cakes) are simply not possible, but it’s worth a try to make sure of this. Alcohol, of course, is not a fountain, but in principle, as elsewhere, but in this hotel it is also slightly diluted, so you will not be able to get drunk. Beer is poured from bottles, beer is good, drink to your health. nine0002 Alcohol and non-alcoholic drinks from 10:00 to 23:00 could be taken from the bar near the reception. The glasses were washed there right under the tap, but in the evening they are not there. You need to come with your glass to pour it there.
In the bar on the beach (10:00 to 17:00) everything was poured into disposable cups, but 1 bartender works there (sometimes a security guard helped) and there is always a line of 20-25 people. Cold drinks were there only in the morning, then everything was warm. Very dirty!!!
The rooms are cleaned equally badly for money and without them. Advice - take a domestos and a rag with you, as you move in, wipe everything. I had the imprudence to observe the ritual of cleaning the room - they wiped the toilet with a rag, they wiped the bathtub and, with it, the sink and countertop, I wanted to look further, but the cleaner asked me to leave (it was someone else's room, I passed by and decided to look at the cleaning). nine0002 Take shampoos, gels, soaps with you. It doesn't exist here. There is only an incomprehensible substance in the hinged soap dispenser. Girls, if you have long hair and you can’t do without a hair dryer, take your own, as the power of the local hair dryer is 1200, this is not enough for styling.
There are no safes in the rooms. There is only in the new five-story building and at the reception, the cost is $ 1 per day.
The territory is large, quite picturesque, there is a place to sit, walk, breathe.
Every evening they poison mosquitoes, this is acrid smoke, the windows should be closed, and you are advised not to be in the epicenter of this, it will be bad for a long time (if it were not poisoned, there are hordes of mosquitoes here). nine0002 The beach is wide, dirty, with me only once it was raked, the garbage from the pots is taken out as it gets dirty (about 1 time per 1 day). The beach is really dirty! In the sea, you can watch ice cream wrappers (by the way, it is given only to children at certain hours). On the beach there are heavy iron sunbeds, some with broken wheels and old mattresses. Plastic sunbeds and newer mattresses are by the large pool. Near the hotel there is a pier for yachts, the view is certainly beautiful, but at times there was a film on the water (fuel seepage), and I saw how the yachts are washed, and the water flows into the sea. nine0002 Animation: Animation is a little Russian speaking, I counted 5 people. During the day, yoga, water gymnastics, and volleyball are held. In the evening from 20:30 to 22:00 in the amphitheater children are entertained with a disco and competitions, from 22:00 to 23:00 a program for adults, an entertainment program sometimes with invited dance groups. Some of the topics of the program are male striptease, Miss Hotel, belly dance, comedy performances, oriental pair dances (the program is repeated every 7 days).
Service staff: cocky, constantly talking to each other while serving guests (in many hotels this is prohibited, so as not to arouse suspicion among vacationers that they are discussing them), rude gestures.

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