Dark alleys. Ivan Bunin, "Dark Alleys": analysis

Option 1

On a rainy autumn day, along a broken dirt road to a long hut, in one half of which there was a post station, and in the other a clean room where one could rest, eat and even spend the night, a mud-covered tarantass with a half-raised top drove up. On the goats of the tarantass sat a strong, serious peasant in a tightly girded Armenian coat, and in the tarantass was “a slender old military man in a large cap and in a Nikolaev gray overcoat with a beaver stand-up collar, still black-browed, but with a white mustache that connected with the same sideburns; his chin was shaved and his whole appearance had that resemblance to Alexander II, which was so common among the military at the time of his reign; the look was also inquiring, stern and at the same time tired.
When the horses stopped, he got out of the carriage, ran up to the porch of the hut and turned left, as the coachman told him.
It was warm, dry, and tidy in the upper room, with a sweet smell of cabbage soup because of the stove damper. The newcomer threw down his overcoat on the bench, took off his gloves and cap, and wearily ran his hand through his slightly curly hair. There was no one in the room, he opened the door and called: “Hey, who is there!”
“A dark-haired, also black-browed, and also still beautiful beyond her age woman entered ... with a dark fluff on her upper lip and along her cheeks, light on the move, but plump, with large breasts under a red blouse, with a triangular, like a goose, belly under black woolen skirt. She greeted me politely.
The visitor glanced at her rounded shoulders and light legs and asked for a samovar. It turned out that this woman was the owner of the inn. The visitor praised her for her cleanliness. The woman, looking inquisitively at him, said: “I love cleanliness. After all, under the masters, she grew up, how not to be able to behave decently, Nikolai Alekseevich. "Hope! You? he said hastily. - My God, my God! .. Who would have thought! How many years have we not seen each other? Thirty-five years? - "Thirty, Nikolai Alekseevich." He is excited, asking her how she lived all these years.
How did you live? The Lord gave freedom. She was not married. Why? Yes, because she loved him very much. “Everything passes, my friend,” he muttered. - Love, youth - everything, everything. The story is vulgar, ordinary. It all goes away with the years."
For others, maybe, but not for her. She lived with them all her life. She knew that his former one had long been gone, that it was as if nothing had happened for him, but still she loved. It's too late to reproach now, but how heartlessly he left her then ... How many times she wanted to lay hands on herself! “And all the poems were deigned to read to me about all sorts of “dark alleys,” she added with an unkind smile.” Nikolai Alekseevich recalls how beautiful Nadezhda was. He was good too. “And it was to you that I gave my beauty, my fever. How can you forget that." - "BUT! Everything passes. Everything is forgotten." “Everything passes, but not everything is forgotten.” “Go away,” he said, turning away and going to the window. - Leave, please. Pressing the handkerchief to his eyes, he added: “If only God would forgive me. You seem to have forgiven." No, she did not forgive him and never could forgive him. She can't forgive him. He ordered the horses to be brought in, moving away from the window with dry eyes. He, too, was never happy in his life. He married for great love, and she left him even more insultingly than he left Nadezhda. He placed so many hopes on his son, but he grew up a scoundrel, an insolent man, without honor, without conscience. She came up and kissed his hand, he kissed hers. Already on the road, he remembered this with shame, and he became ashamed of this shame. The coachman says that she looked after them from the window. She is a woman - mind chamber. Gives money in growth, but is fair. “Yes, of course, the best moments ... Truly magical! "All around the scarlet rose hips bloomed, there were alleys of dark lindens ..." What if I had not abandoned her? What nonsense! This same Nadezhda is not the keeper of the inn, but my wife, the mistress of my St. Petersburg house, the mother of my children?” And closing his eyes, he shook his head.

Option 2

On a rainy autumn day, along a broken dirt road to a long hut, in one half of which there was a post station, and in the other a clean room where one could rest, eat and even spend the night, a mud-covered tarantass with a half-raised top drove up. On the goats of the tarantass sat a strong, serious man in a tightly belted Armenian coat, and in the tarantass was “a slender old military man in a large cap and in a Nikolaev gray overcoat with a beaver stand-up collar, still black-browed, but with a white mustache that connected with the same sideburns; his chin was shaved and his whole appearance had that resemblance to Alexander II, which was so common among the military at the time of his reign; his gaze was also inquiring, stern and at the same time tired.
When the horses stopped, he got out of the carriage, ran up to the porch of the hut and turned left, as the coachman told him. It was warm, dry, and tidy in the upper room, with a sweet smell of cabbage soup because of the stove damper. The newcomer threw down his overcoat on the bench, took off his gloves and cap, and wearily ran his hand through his slightly curly hair. There was no one in the room, he opened the door and called: “Hey, who is there!” “A dark-haired, also black-browed and also still beautiful beyond her age woman entered ... with a dark fluff on her upper lip and along her cheeks, light on the move, but plump, with large breasts under a red blouse, with a triangular belly, like a goose, under a black woolen skirt." She greeted me politely.
The visitor glanced briefly at her rounded shoulders and light legs and asked for a samovar. It turned out that this woman was the owner of the inn. The visitor praised her for her cleanliness. The woman, looking inquisitively at him, said: “I love cleanliness. After all, she grew up under the masters, how not to be able to behave decently, Nikolai Alekseevich. "Hope! You? he said hastily. - My God, my God! .. Who would have thought! How many years have we not seen each other? Thirty-five years? - "Thirty, Nikolai Alekseevich." He is excited, asking her how she lived all these years. How did you live? The Lord gave freedom. She was not married. Why? Yes, because she loved him very much. “Everything passes, my friend,” he muttered. - Love, youth - everything, everything. The story is vulgar, ordinary. It all goes away with the years." For others, maybe, but not for her. She lived with them all her life. She knew that his former one had long been gone, that it was as if nothing had happened for him, but still she loved. It’s too late to reproach now, but how heartlessly he left her then ... How many times she wanted to lay hands on herself! “And all the poems were deigned to read to me about all sorts of“ dark alleys ”, she added with an unkind smile.” Nikolai Alekseevich recalls how beautiful Nadezhda was. He was good too. “And it was to you that I gave my beauty, my fever. How can you forget that." - "BUT! Everything passes. Everything is forgotten." “Everything passes, but not everything is forgotten.” “Go away,” he said, turning away and going to the window. - Leave, please. Pressing the handkerchief to his eyes, he added: “If only God would forgive me. You seem to have forgiven." No, she did not forgive him and never could forgive him. She can't forgive him. He ordered the horses to be brought in, moving away from the window with dry eyes. He, too, was never happy in his life. He married for great love, and she left him even more insultingly than he left Nadezhda. He placed so many hopes on his son, but he grew up a scoundrel, an insolent man, without honor, without conscience. She came up and kissed his hand, he kissed hers. Already on the road, he remembered this with shame, and he became ashamed of this shame. The coachman says that she looked after them from the window. She is a woman - mind chamber. Gives money in growth, but is fair. “Yes, of course, the best minutes ... Truly magical! “All around the scarlet rose hips bloomed, there were alleys of dark lindens ...” What if I had not abandoned her? What nonsense! This same Nadezhda is not the keeper of the inn, but my wife, the mistress of my St. Petersburg house, the mother of my children? And closing his eyes, he shook his head.

The story tells us about how an elderly military man meets a woman with whom he was previously in love and whom he abandoned. Now she is the mistress of the chamber into which he entered. He stares at the mistress, but it is she who first recognizes in him her first love, after which she could not love anyone. During the conversation, the man says that their relationship was just a "vulgar story." It turns out that he loved his wife, for whom he left Nadezhda. However, his wife left him, and the son, in whom he doted, grew up to be a bad person. The story ends with Nikolai Alekseevich leaving and imagining what would happen if it was Nadezhda who became his wife.

The main idea of ​​Bunin's story Dark alleys

The story teaches that pure love should be valued more than anything in the world and that people should not be treated cruelly, perhaps they are the ones who give you the best that can be in life.

On one of the rainy autumn days, a chariot drove up to the hut, in one part of which there was a postal station, and in the other - a room where you could spend the night, as well as eat or drink tea. A strong and serious-looking man, more like a robber, was sitting on the goats of the tarantass. And in the tarantass - a slender, middle-aged military man. He was in a gray overcoat and in his appearance was similar to Alexander II, which was typical for that time and was common among the military.

The man went into the upper room, where it was warm, clean and comfortable. He took off his overcoat and turned out to be even more slender than he seemed before. Then he took off his gloves and cap and ran his hands over his head. His hair was gray and curly, his face was handsome and elongated, and his eyes were dark.

There was no one else in the room besides him, so he opened the door to the entrance hall and shouted hostilely

Hey who's there!

Immediately after that, a woman entered the room. She, too, was quite beautiful for her middle age and looked like an elderly gypsy. Her hair was dark, as were her eyebrows. The woman was full, but at the same time light on the go. When asked what the guest would like, the man answered the samovar and then began to ask her about whether she was the mistress of this institution or served here. The woman replied that she was the mistress. The man asked why she ran the household alone and if she was a widow.

The woman replied that she was not a widow, but she needed to live on something, and she loved this business. To this, the man said that it was true and praised her for her cleanliness. And she, in turn, answered that she also loves cleanliness, because she grew up under the masters and added Nikolai Alekseevich at the end. The man was surprised, straightened up and asked if she was Hope. She answered positively. Nikolai Alekseevich asked how many years had passed, if not thirty-five. And Nadezhda answered thirty, because now she is forty-eight years old, and he is under sixty. The military man forgot about his fatigue and walked around the room, looking at the floor. Then he blushed and began to speak. They started talking about the past. It turned out that the gentlemen gave Nadezhda freedom and she was not married.

The reason for this was the strong love that she felt for Nikolai Alekseevich. The man, in turn, replied that their story was ordinary, vulgar, that everything goes on in this world. However, according to Nadezhda, her love did not pass. The man said that she could not love him for a century. She said she apparently could. Nadezhda added that she understood that he was no longer the same and that a lot of time had passed and that all this meant nothing to him. Several times she wanted to commit suicide. She remembered how much they loved each other, how he read poetry to her about the "dark alleys" and how cruelly he left her.

Nikolai Alekseevich remembered how beautiful she was and how everyone looked at her and added that everything in this life passes and is forgotten. The hostess replied that everything passes, but not everything is forgotten. The man asked her to leave, wiped his eyes with a handkerchief and said that God forgive him, and she probably already forgave him. To which the answer was that she did not forgive him. After all, she didn’t have anything then, more expensive than he and then didn’t have. Therefore, she could not forgive him.

Nikolai Alekseevich told her that he was also not happy in life, although he loved his wife, but she left him worse than he left Nadezhda. And the son, in whom he doted on and on whom he had high hopes, grew up a mean man. He added that this is also the most common and vulgar story. And then he said that apparently he, along with Nadezhda, lost all the best that he had in life. The military man asked for the horses to be brought in, and before leaving, she kissed his hand, and he kissed hers.

Being already in the carriage, the man recalled how wonderful Nadezhda was and that she really gave him the best moments in his life. The coachman drove and suddenly said that the woman was looking out the window when they drove off, apparently they were old acquaintances.

Nikolai Alekseevich continued to think about her and recall that the moments when they were together were truly magical. He even imagined what would happen if Nadezhda was not the mistress of the upper room, but the mistress of his house, his wife and mother of his children. He thought about it with his eyes closed, shaking his head.

Picture or drawing Dark alleys

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"Dark Alleys" (read the summary below) - a cycle of stories by I.A. Bunin, on which he worked for eight years. There are no repetitive scenes here. Each story is the fate of an individual: unique, inimitable, one of a kind, like a fingerprint. What made the author combine them into one book? Of course, love. may be different, but the "dark alleys" of each of us, ultimately, lead to only one thing - to love ...

I. A. Bunin, a summary of "Dark Alley"

Cold autumn storm. One of the Tula roads, flooded and indented by endless rains. A dirty chariot drove up to a long hut, uniting a post office on one side and a small private hotel on the other. A slender old military man emerged from him, with a gray mustache, but still black-browed. He famously ran up to the porch of the hut, then went into the upper room to the left.

It was clean, warm and dry. Before he had time to call out to the hosts, a dark woman, also black-browed, and beautiful beyond her age, entered the room with light steps. Rounded shoulders, large breasts under a red blouse, "light legs", red worn Tatar shoes - nothing escaped his gaze. The visitor started the conversation that usually takes place between people whose paths accidentally crossed, but most likely they will never see each other again. We talked, yes

and forgot. It turned out that this woman is the mistress of the inn. This fact surprised him, but he praised her for cleanliness and comfort. She, screwing up her eyes and looking inquisitively at him, answered: “I love cleanliness ... I grew up under the masters, Nikolai Alekseevich.” Either her words, or her voice, or his name she uttered, or maybe all together, sharply and unexpectedly evoked vivid pictures of youth ... The man quickly straightened up and blushed: “Hope! You?" Of course, it was she - the same Nadezhda, who thirty, and possibly thirty-five years ago, was his lover. Ah, how long ago that was! Youth, love, passed, and history, in essence, was "vulgar, ordinary."

But this is not the end. Summary "Dark Alley" continues. After all, what for one is a real trifle, which can sometimes be remembered with pleasant sadness, for another - the love of a lifetime, with which you do not part for a minute. She knew everything. She understood that Nikolenka was no longer the same, and she gave all her youth, beauty and "fever" to him, and she would not become his or anyone else's wife. She tried to lay hands on herself. But fate decreed otherwise ...

Nikolai Alekseevich blushes, hides a miserly tear and repents only before God, because she, apparently, has not been angry with him for a long time. But Nadezhda did not forgive him, and is not going to forgive him. It's impossible. Feelings are insanely mixed. Love, delight, resentment, disappointment and hatred - where is it, go figure it out. Therefore, as her love for him will remain unchanged, so will what settled nearby.

Repentance and tears instantly disappeared from his face. Nikolai Alekseevich said that his life did not work out either. The wife, whom he loved extremely, cheated and left him "even more insultingly" than he did Nadezhda. The son is an unprecedented insolent and loafer, a man without heart and honor. Maybe he really did not appreciate and betrayed the true that was offered to him initially. After this unexpected confession, she came up and kissed his hand, and he - hers, and they said goodbye. When we went further, he became unbearably ashamed. The last words, some kind of stupid, somewhere even childish repentance, kissing hands ... The former military man blushed deeply, but was instantly ashamed of these vile feelings. After all, that time spent with her was the best and most magical in his life: “All around the scarlet rose hips bloomed, there were alleys of dark lindens ...” Closing his eyes, he shook his head: I wonder what would happen next, what if he did not leave her, and this woman, Nadezhda, the mistress of the inn, would become his life partner, the manager of his Petersburg house, the mother of his children? This is the summary of "Dark Alley" ends. The question remains unanswered...

What is the story "Dark Alleys" about?

The summary of the work, as well as the entire text, makes the reader think about what it is - a story of great love or a "vulgar, ordinary" affair? In life, one has to watch hundreds, and even thousands of such dramas. But this is on the one hand. Or rather, this is the tip of the iceberg. What is hidden under dark water? Summary "Dark Alley" told the story of two people. Hope carried the love of one man through the years.

Yes, this love was muddy with a touch of resentment, sharp pain and deep disappointment. But she was. Nikolai Alekseevich, having betrayed and insulted one, also knew this feeling, but thanks to the other. And he didn't give up. And he continued to protect what came to life in his soul, and was subsequently trampled down and mixed with mud. Why do we so carefully keep what hurts and aches? Why "everything passes, but not everything is forgotten"?

On a rainy autumn day, along a broken, dirty road to a long hut, in one half of which there was a postal station, and in the other a clean room, where you could rest, eat, and even re-but-che-wat, the obki drove up -given mud tarantass with a half-raised top. On the goats of the ram-tas sat a strong, serious man in a tightly under-sledge Armenian coat, and in the ram-tas was “a slender old military man in a large cap and in a Nikolaev gray overcoat with a beaver standing collar, still black-browed, but with a white mustache, which was connected with the same sideburns; his chin was shaved and his whole appearance had that resemblance to Alexander II, which was so common among the military at the time of his reign; the look was also inquiring, stern and at the same time tired.

When the horses stopped, he got out of the ram-tas, ran up to the porch of the hut and turned left, as the coachman told him. It was warm, dry, and tidy in the upper room, with a sweet smell of cabbage soup because of the stove damper. The newcomer threw down his overcoat on the bench, took off his gloves and cap, and wearily ran his hand through his slightly curly hair. There was no one in the upper room, he opened the door ajar and called: “Hey, who is there!” “A dark-haired woman, also black-browed and also still beautiful beyond her age, entered ... triangular, like a goose, belly under a black woolen skirt. She politely po-ro-wa-las.

The visitor glanced briefly at her rounded shoulders and light legs and asked for a samovar. It turned out that this woman was the owner of the inn. The visitor praised her for her cleanliness. The woman, looking inquisitively at him, said: “I love cleanliness. After all, she grew up under the masters, how not to be able to behave decently, Nikolai Alekseevich. "Hope! You? he said hastily. - My God, my God! .. Who could have thought! How many years have we not seen each other? Thirty-five years? - "Thirty, Nikolai Alekseevich." He is excited, asks her how she lived all these years. How did you live? The Lord gave freedom. She was not married. Why? Yes, because she loved him very much. “Everything passes, my friend,” he shook the fence. - Love, youth - everything, everything. The story is vulgar, usually venal. It all goes away with the years."

For others, maybe, but not for her. She lived with them all her life. She knew that his former one had long been gone, that it was as if nothing had happened for him, but still she loved. It’s too late to reproach now, but how heartlessly he left her then ... How many times she wanted to lay hands on herself! “And I was deigned to read all the poems about all sorts of “dark alleys,” she added with an unkind smile.” Nikolai Alekseevich recalls how beautiful Nadezhda was. He was good too. “And it was to you that I gave my beauty, my fever. How can you forget that." - "BUT! Everything passes. Everything is forgotten. - "Everything passes, but not everything is forgotten." “Go away,” he said, turning away and going to the window. “Go away, please.” Pressing the handkerchief to his eyes, he added: “If only God would forgive me. You seem to have forgiven." No, she did not forgive him and never could forgive him. She can't forgive him.

He ordered the horses to be brought in, moving away from the window with dry eyes. He, too, was never happy in his life. He married for great love, and she left him even more insultingly than he did Nadezhda. He placed so many hopes on his son, but he grew up a scoundrel, an insolent man, without honor, without conscience. She came up and kissed his hand, he kissed hers. Already on the road, he remembered this with shame, and he became ashamed of this shame. The coachman says that she looked after them from the window. She is a woman - mind chamber. Gives money in growth, but rightly so.

“Yes, of course, the best minutes ... Truly magical! “All around the scarlet rose hips bloomed, there were alleys of dark lindens ...” What if I had not abandoned her? What nonsense! This same Nadezhda is not the caretaker of a permanent chamber, but my wife, the mistress of my St. Petersburg house, the mother of my children? And closing his eyes, he shook his head.

On a rainy autumn day, along a broken dirt road to a long hut, in one half of which there was a post station, and in the other a clean room where one could rest, eat and even spend the night, a mud-covered tarantass with a half-raised top drove up. On the goats of the tarantass sat a strong, serious man in a tightly belted Armenian coat, and in the tarantass was “a slender old military man in a large cap and in a Nikolaev gray overcoat with a beaver stand-up collar, still black-browed, but with a white mustache that connected with the same sideburns; his chin was shaved and his whole appearance had that resemblance to Alexander II, which was so common among the military at the time of his reign; his gaze was also inquiring, stern and at the same time tired.

When the horses stopped, he got out of the carriage, ran up to the porch of the hut and turned left, as the coachman told him. It was warm, dry, and tidy in the upper room, with a sweet smell of cabbage soup because of the stove damper. The newcomer threw down his overcoat on the bench, took off his gloves and cap, and wearily ran his hand through his slightly curly hair. There was no one in the room, he opened the door and called: “Hey, who is there!” “A dark-haired, also black-browed and also still beautiful beyond her age woman entered ... with a dark fluff on her upper lip and along her cheeks, light on the move, but plump, with large breasts under a red blouse, with a triangular belly, like a goose, under a black woolen skirt." She greeted me politely.

The visitor glanced briefly at her rounded shoulders and light legs and asked for a samovar. It turned out that this woman was the owner of the inn. The visitor praised her for her cleanliness. The woman, looking inquisitively at him, said: “I love cleanliness. After all, she grew up under the masters, how not to be able to behave decently, Nikolai Alekseevich. "Hope! You? he said hastily. - My God, my God! .. Who would have thought! How many years have we not seen each other? Thirty-five years? - "Thirty, Nikolai Alekseevich." He is excited, asking her how she lived all these years. How did you live? The Lord gave freedom. She was not married. Why? Yes, because she loved him very much. “Everything passes, my friend,” he muttered. - Love, youth - everything, everything. The story is vulgar, ordinary. It all goes away with the years."

For others, maybe, but not for her. She lived with them all her life. She knew that his former one had long been gone, that it was as if nothing had happened for him, but still she loved. It’s too late to reproach now, but how heartlessly he left her then ... How many times she wanted to lay hands on herself! “And all the poems were deigned to read to me about all sorts of“ dark alleys ”, she added with an unkind smile.” Nikolai Alekseevich recalls how beautiful Nadezhda was. He was good too. “And it was to you that I gave my beauty, my fever. How can you forget that." - "BUT! Everything passes. Everything is forgotten." “Everything passes, but not everything is forgotten.” “Go away,” he said, turning away and going to the window. - Leave, please. Pressing the handkerchief to his eyes, he added: “If only God would forgive me. You seem to have forgiven." No, she did not forgive him and never could forgive him. She can't forgive him.

He ordered the horses to be brought in, moving away from the window with dry eyes. He, too, was never happy in his life. He married for great love, and she left him even more insultingly than he left Nadezhda. He placed so many hopes on his son, but he grew up a scoundrel, an insolent man, without honor, without conscience. She came up and kissed his hand, he kissed hers. Already on the road, he remembered this with shame, and he became ashamed of this shame. The coachman says that she looked after them from the window. She is a woman - mind chamber. Gives money in growth, but is fair.

“Yes, of course, the best minutes ... Truly magical! “All around the scarlet rose hips bloomed, there were alleys of dark lindens ...” What if I had not abandoned her? What nonsense! This same Nadezhda is not the keeper of the inn, but my wife, the mistress of my St. Petersburg house, the mother of my children? And closing his eyes, he shook his head.