The stingy

An abundantly plaintive and colorless fog was not rapidly thickening up over tenderly covered river, lovely tightened by morning dim dusk. The unfortunate cheerless canopy of deep gloomy and drowsy sky was specifically breezing with the lonely and pensive wet dampness. The offhandedly walking cold wind was quite lingeringly singing around. Slender contours of liquid and watery forest, very thinned and very alone, were measuredly awakening from the dissolving haze and were filling with soft dulcet glow of the being engaging clear dawn. Angular shadows were shyly and timidly huddling along the nondescript lowlands, vainly retreating into the emptiness of the alienated outskirts. Gray formless clouds were reluctantly spreading. Supposedly from nowhere were pleasurably blowing with warm. At the steep, abrupt slope was relaxedly sitting Semyon Andreevich, a strong, hunched young man, languidly looking into turbid distance of the horizon. His sad gaze was frowned and gloomy, his dreary appearance - quiet and depressed. Black frizzy curls were adroitly gliding along his swarthy neck, affectionately flowing on the shiny glossy skin. On a tired and monotonously cold face was skimpily flaunting an indifferent mask of the despondency. The hero was waiting. Was wearily looking into nowhere and captivating by lazy boredom, fussily twirling an aureate metal button of a shirt with his fingers. Soon, fifty meters from its inconspicuous location, a crack of branches had been heard and, out of the sharply spreading bushes, the angular figure of Oleg Egorovich has appeared in front of eyes. He clumsily made his way to the water, threw heavy fabric rucksack onto the sand and, having carefully taken out from the last one a long old fishing rod, deftly sat on the trampled heated mound.
"What an ill-fated destiny's section had so poorly brought him to here!?" - has abruptly thought rushed internally up Semen Andreevich: "He still has been found and delivered, just in space I had peacefully chosen – definitely by some unknown mischiefhas and no otherwise. Now know - all my plans will be inevitably wrecked."
As a fact, Oleg Yegorovich was not loved in the village. The stingy - such a permanent nickname had firmly fixed to his hapless person. The hero, eternally secretive, dissatisfied, cantankerous and collecting every unfortunate penny, was a figure, in some way even indicative and nominal, serving as a kind of standard of human's stinginess and insensibility. All the life Oleg Egorovich was alone. After graduating from the Guards College and departing with parental family, he began to engage into entrepreneurship – directly from his very youth. He was buying furniture, paintings, gold, jewelry and leather, and then was selling them in his own shop and from hands. Such way life's years were going by. Money were accumulating in the chests. Business was developing. And Oleg Yegorovich himself was slowly aging and becoming more stingy and estranged from others. Having clearly immodest capital, he was not changing his clothes for tens years, was not leaving the borders of his native land, and was never giving money to anyone. This was the most distinctive of all his features - he did not have indulgence, did not burden himself with such a futile matter. He was living without people outside, was only carefully watching at them from his own alienation and periodically criticizing.
And now, fearing to his comments and condemnation, Semyon Andreevich was sorely nervous and timid: "Why exactly in this hour and at this place!? Morning. Early one. Very early. But he is here. Yes... is. And even with a fishing rod. Curse."
Oleg Egorovich turned around and immediately noticed his alarmed compatriot: "Waiting for someone?"
"Yes, and you even fully know – whom and what for." - has muttered Semyon Andreevich.
"If so, then your current and further fate is so sad, so wrong. All it looks vastly viciously. Viciously and unholy. You ruin yourself, bury yourself – completely, inexorably and forever."
"Maybe precisely so. But is it forbidden or what?"
"People are allowed doing everything. Our sky doesn’t forbid. I will not either. I didn’t come for to stare or gossip. My deal is more simple – to catch some fish and to cook a soup. And you may stay. If you is fool not partly, but completely."
"Damn you!" - the embarrassed interlocutor thought, when simultaneously Anna Stepanovna quite invisibly creeped up: "Standing and yearning?" - laughed the lady, approaching her fellow.
"Yes. Longing."
"But what exactly are you hope for? Anyway I will not be yours."
"No matter will be or not. It is so useless to force human's heart. It's impossible to reject it, to throw away."
"There is no value in it's beating. Anyway, you’ll remain nobody. And the times going fast ... Why are you still staring? I'm not yours anyway."
"Now I can't even dream?"
"Someone else maybe can. But you can't."
"But nevertheless it was just you, just you was so heavily given to me by some reason, was sent down and handed ."
"Sent down by whom?"
"By my fate."
"You is funny. Funny and stupid. Like, actually, all the nowadays population."
"Maybe I'm funny, but I'm feeling myself very sad. And you only exacerbate it, callously offering regular pains and tortures. But I hope you will bring something bright, something better."
"Be glad, that I have come to you at all, be grateful for it. Bright news are not for everyone, not for each usual miserable person, shadows and darkness require place too. Only with joys and nothing else it will also sad and bitterly."
"Sometimes I want this bitterness so much. Exorbitantly! Not less."
"The things, we want, vice versa become the objects, we are deprived of. Don't wish a lot, or will lose even available smallness."
"I don’t hope for anything at all, I don’t hope and don't expect. I just behave according to the telling of my mind. I act as I feel. And I don’t see anything shameful in this."
"You so much got used to attaching to the emptyness? It means you is empty too, empty and defective. I have no feelings. But you is runing around me and begging. What for do you need such an infamy? You is asking me to pity your personality, asking not to refuse. Isn’t it nauseating for you?"
"From beloved hands even slops are sweet."
"You is silly. You undoubtedly will stay all the life as a nobody's property."
"But if I will proclaim myself as yours own one?"
"Dream more. And take a walk along the rainbow in addition. Maybe you’ll at least fall into the river and drown. It will be much more useful for the world. You is aimless. And it is not your only sin, besides to this you somehow thought up to get attached to me. There were no one else to defame with your affection?"
"You even don't want to be an idol for me?"
"Don't want."
"For not a long at least. For a moment."
"Maybe to kiss you?"
"I will perceive it as a great miracle."
"Such an idiot! Have you really believed? What can be taken from a person like you ..."
"I will gladly and strictly with pleasure give you all of the values I have."
"What a sweet stupidity. You should go directly to fairy tales. Or to some madhouse. Nowhere else."
"You try to offend, to reject. But anyway you is still so liked and necessary, still attract me and wholly entail, attract, like some mirage, like some morbid obsession."
“All your mirage will melt just right now. I am going to go. There’s enough work at my home even without such tedious contacts with you. And don't ask for next meeting. We have nothing to talk about. It's really aimless."
"Let me knit you a forehead's wreath at least."
"What else do you want?!" - Anna Stepanovna spun around and went off, having measuredly plodded along the tortuous narrow path and then hastily melted behind the branches of maples, carefully hided her independent silhouette from observation.
Semyon Andreevich timidly lowered his gaze and fell silent.
"Well, expectedly perfect, have you spoken again both a lot and efficiently? With undoubted joy, peaceful solace and pure success? What especially funny and notable, that it's stably without result or even minimal development in any of attempts." - called the character out Oleg Egorovich.
"In name of what you've pestered to me? I am already feeling quite disgusting with even no contacting with you."
“Semyon Andreevich, think over, you were all life exclusively sagacious and far and far not stupid anyway. You even finished college with top marks. But you decided to become ruined! To come directly just in devil’s hands. If you still have such strong desire to get lost, I will advice – try rush to any war, in it's conditions it will be much more fast."
"I'm going to the devil, ruining myself ... With what an heresy you fill me? What kind of devil is she? Fragile, harmless. Only outwardly proud and cold, visually. But inside..."
"Just in this she is similar with him the most: the devil’s task is to let you believe, that you is stronger than him, that he is more weak, more defenseless. To let you believe and then immediately deceive. And he even will not convince you – you will devotedly run after him yourself. He also will not try to slander you – you will analogically do it yourself. It will be tried to palm off you a virtue, just with the help of which finally you will choke and get lost. Note, people are never getting invited into hell, they always go there exclusively voluntarily. Now concerning your mind. Here it is entirely like a house of cards: as soon as the essence of the last one will be pushed even a little little bit harder than usual, all its functionality will helplessly crumble over, will instantly fly apart and to smithereens, having easily destroyed all your fate with own endless immensity. Under mind's ruins not a one dozen of the brightest heads have got faded. And you are stubbornly entrusting to it all the main roles. So funny."
"All of you, all without any exception, trying only to laugh at me. It follows from your reasoning, that God does not differ somehow from the devil. He commits the same wiliness. And the finish most often is also completely similar."
"Not fully so. God is wholly outside. At least, that one, which is true. There is practically a sea of the newly minted saints. Such sea, that is more alike with a swamp. And, generally, all we want here is just to step into it as soon as possible."
"Great. In such case try to wean me from her once again. Why not. Repeat it in the hundredth time. Over and over. Undoubtedly, you will also say, that you, as always, struggle with human's stupidity. But for the glory of what have you made this distribution of advices? I don’t heed them anyway. It's exactly not possible to get rid of prescribed life's role. No matter – is it the diabolical one, or divine."
"Here you are thinking absolutely right. Personally you yourself even nearly have no blame in established life's route or content. Why does the dog bark being on the chain? Because it was created like that, was ordered to grin and yap. Its exposed position and behavior are completely suited to this requirements. Now further. Take a look at a slave. He has no rights, no liberties, only almighty master. Only master and forever allotted unchangeable place at his feet. We have ancient tribes, we have fanatics, we have persons obsessed with some purpose. And they all have particular roles. Just that ones, which with variable periodicity similarly falls to us too from unknown invisible source - roles to love, roles to hope or meet. All we do this not consciously, not ourselves, but only by the will of conditions, by the call of inevitability, someone chasing a whore, someone chasing a Messiah, but both of them do it from equal hopelessness. In the first case from the crappy one, and in the second - from happy. You silly think you have separated your eyelids and that’s all - you’ve opened your gaze at the world. It doesn’t work like that. A lot of things here are completely invisible, inaccessible to our eyes. And you in equal degree of bravery ride by the road and by its side. You crave for encouragements. Crave for approval from someone else’s opinion. And not from the right one, by the way. You want to be justified. No matter by whom, even by the hell. But we can't please everyone."
"I please only myself, please my passions."
"What kind of passion is this - to warm a person, who turns you back and sends away?"
“So I want to get some unity, some appreciation. But I don’t know what is required for this. That's why I’m struggling, attempting and trying to persist, to win by power, by amount of my activity. Does here exist some another way to the happiness? I'm not sure. What is needed for it, who will say ... That's a task we will solve more than life."
“Faith me concretely here without any doubtfulness there are no big tasks assigned to human. Even more. Any eternal thinking or reasoning are not prescribed either. All that every person still ineluctably needs in is to determine only one thing - what in the fate's intricacy is yours own and what is alien. Decide it and don't trample not yours paths."
"And if nothing here is yours. Like the world is not constructed for you at all. What then can be done?"
"World is big, everyone once will find own corner. Not in everyone's case it will be hospitable, not in everyone's case comfortable, but fully their own. And if concerning directly you - never have even minimal thought to try to become squeezed into the alien, into someone else’s. There you will meet only precipice, emptiness. Please, forever and firmly remember - you will never be able to unite with anyone of extraneous people. You also will never be filled with the alien offerings. It is completely an axiom. You want happiness, but you don't know exactly what it means, what it has in own essence? You don’t know this, but anyway want. Real happiness never comes to such people."
“At least I’m free to search, free not to wait. And with your excellent logic I must sit all my life with the hands down and with no activity or attempts.”
"And what does this freedom give? Which benefits do you get from possession yours will? Say, what for was it given, as fact? For opening an ability to manipulate you, to entice and control. For being capable to bury you with your own hands. Will gives birth to some zeal, to initiative. And such one is always punishable. Insidious. It leads you into evil's quagmire, in tragedy. Transports you right to death with your own legs only. No doubts, you have your strong will. But who commands and rule all its actions? Who sets goals? Who have inspired you with ideals, to which ones you are trying to be faithful? It is possible all the life's time very diligently pray to the demon. And then take offense at your God, that finally you by some reason wasn't taken to paradise. You incessantly play here as an idiot, but at the same time, time withal quite successless for your personal value, you shamelessly demand such applause as you hardily play as a genius."
"So surely clear, that your only goal and plan is to prove me I'm totally fool, to compress me with arguments and to puzzle my consciousness, as a result. Isn't so?"
"Even nearly no. All I want - just to warn you and only. Just to warn, to protect your brain's gyruses from regrets. And if about mind's confusion, as a casual ordinary phenomenon, it's, of course, quite familiar, very usual and splendidly known to all. If you have never been considered as a fool, then you certainly are not a sage. Any exhortations exist only for not believing them every time. But I'm really expecting from you not confusion or uncertainty, vice versa expecting some awareness, some mental illumination. I want your desirous, erring soul to be saved. More precisely, I want it to deserve being saved. And then all your further life's events will completely depend on the care of luck and not on something else."
"I’m a man with all luck strictly paralleling. No matter, am I dumb or enlightened."
"For the love of heaven mutuality is required."
"Let they'll try to fall in love unrequitedly. Them also would be useful to get tormented. And now I need to go. Good fishing."
Semyon Andreevich left.
Oleg Yegorovich silently stared at the whitish expanse the sky: "Definitely, people are strange. Their paths and fates are concretely miraculous. They all want something own, something special. And any universe's sources present only things are already exist and available. Human's life is a long long swamp. Long, but anyway temporary. What is it in fact? Disgustful trip around the world. Such a voyage sometimes can be sent. All the eternity will remember. And what about me I undeniably need to get some fish. Leaving empty is not a good sign."
The float gurgled at water surface and silently declared usual waiting opened. Quite soon all surrounding expanses became foggy. Muddy tops of the trees indistinguishably began their gradual merging with the densely mixed grayness of the endless sky. Unexpectedly rained. A decrepit nearby barge sailed away.
"A couple of fishes will be fully enough." - has thought Oleg Egorovich: “Absolutely right, just a couple of fishes... Nothing more. Only single couple. Only couple of fishes.”
 
II
In a quiet log house, moderately old and lavishly spacious, two unnoticeable people were sitting: that one, who was situating near to fireplace, was none other than Semyon Andreevich, and that one, who was sitting about the window was Anna Stepanovna. It has already passed about whole month since they were meeting on shore of the river. So, having begged one more date, our hero was again looking at his passion, appealing for loyalty and listening to her jeers.
"Well, with what will you embarrass me at this time? With which tales?" - displeasedly and contemptuously extended irritated and malcontent lady.
"I'm planing to implore you again for your lenient condescension, for your indulgent goodwill, even if it will be totally illusive."
"You again incorrigibly reassure yourself with nonsensical barren hopes, with futile empty dreams. Anyway, it could be tolerable if there were something great, you can really dream about. What did you find in me? Why are so tenaciously trying to catch? As it's actually there is no equal replacement of me anywhere."
"I needn't it, needn't any of eternal values. Need no substitutions, no treasures, nothing but you, you is necessary, exclusively you and only."
"This is nonsense. Utter nonsense from starting to end. No less. But you still somehow rescued me to yourself, lured me, fished me out and gravitated. What for is this ours meeting?"
"For simple being together, to my enjoying of you. My here I will never reach happiness, but at least I will see how it looks."
"You is stupid. Stupid or sick. You should find someone, who at least will provide you with sex, otherwise you'll live totally wasted."
"Maybe it’s even sweeter to me such way - fully in vain, maybe that just is what I want."
"You is surely sick. Be confident, my skirt obviously will never rise in front of you. So, better even don't attempt to beg, I’m telling you this right away and aforehand."
"It’s quite good for me even without any access to your skirt and with right to be sitting next to you only."
“Please, calm down and no longer than immediately subside. You is so much insolent and impudent. In degree of a pure awfulness! It's so hard and onerously to get rid of your presence. Here and now you is so persistently sent away, but in the answer you yourself with the stubbornness of a ram is contrariwise incessantly trying to cling back. Pour me tea right now, at least, dear boyfriend.”
Semyon Andreevich got up and went to the samovar. Behind the dark creaking shutters elongated deep spiritless autumn coolness.
"Wind is growing." - with some bitterness in distinctly distempered voice pronounced the young man: "That's meaning it's the finish of our summer."
"It's even nearly not so. If it ever was started at all." - abruptly interrupted Anna Stepanovna: “When it became ours? You is raving again. You is totally raving and besides making it so unbearably lengthened. And where is your damn tea? It was promised.”
"And it will be just now." - Semyon Andreevich has nimbly and vividly hastened to the table with tray.
"Cups are old." - remarked the lady: "Everything you have is so gray, so dead. Even you yourself is entirely like a wax statue. Is it a life at all? Can it ever be named so even partly? Like a cursed one. Not less."
"It's entirely tied on you. And if main aim is impregnable and far away, then no joy, no happiness, alas."
"Find this joy, find this happiness, do it. If it's so desirable and unthinkable. And today here and now, in fact, you inconsolably have only longing, despair and ruining. Even more, you yourself always look like ruins."
"Don’t be angry. Anyway, we are slightly together right now."
"That is in sphere of your dreams, nowhere else. And in frames of available reality  - ubiquitous desolation and you, full of absurd and awfully strange. Doesn't look like a present of fate."
"I will be totally improved. Don't swear so hard."
"It will be surely much better, if you as soon as possible will die. I'm seriosly."
So they drank tea. Semyon Andreevich got up and looked at Anna Stepanovna: "Will I see you again?"
"What else! Such requests not for you. We have totally different roads. I’ll go apart."
"Your life, your choice. You're feeling it better."
Dialog finished.
Semyon Andreevich sat for half an hour, then got up and, failing to get used to longing, went into the tavern. He sat. Didn’t feel better. On the way back unexpectedly approached Oleg Yegorovich.
"You again fully twirling around her figure?"
"You so deeply and thoroughly know it. As you literally see through the walls. How can such foresight be possible at all?"
"Very easily. Everything is recognizably written on your face.  It's observable simply and without efforts."
"You is aware, I can't cope with feelings."
"I'm. But what do this feelings mean? What a kind of guarantor are they? If they are not mutual, not comprehensive, but only external. External. One-sided. Unrequited. Imagine a glass - faceted or round, the difference is small. People say, that, if you'll fill it with water and then will put there a diamond, you'll be fully unable to distinguish it with eyesight. So, I was checking and got persuaded, that they really don’t lie. If someone will put in front of you two glasses - one with a diamond and the other without it, and then you will be forced to choose, you, most likely, will have no chances in detecting the precious stone. And with relationships all is surely similar: in each one of them is unlimited passion, in each of them take own place love confessions, but where exactly is sincerity, where is love? Any actress can with easiness tearfully cry, being parting or hearing refuse. And she also can many times promise to wait you – even longer, than able to live. But you stubbornly put all your soul on the tempest of pure empiricism. It’s not good in results and far harvests."
"Yes, I’m putting. And don't see any available replacement of such attempts.. By what else can I live here? Separated warming ourselves only with abundance of luminous thoughts in own effect is awfully similar to the freezing. That's why I'm humbly chasing this gloomy reality, trying to grab, at least, even something."
"You succumb to the world. Such type of actions is a hellish stupidity."
"But how can we be not succumbed to the world at all? World is big, how will you cope alone, if it will fall on you totally and at once, if will lay on your shoulders with all own weight! You will bend, retreat and give up. That's inevitably."
"Exactly here your thoughts are wrong. It’s no harder to argue with all the actuality than with a schoolboy. What is this world for you? In which spheres is it successful? Which values does it have? Crowds of people. In great abundance and plenty. But in no one of them can be visible human - all are pitiable, evil, ugly and miserable, fully soaked only with meanness, like railway sleepers with creosote. And the same fact of their countless amount is also not a marvelous miracle: if ones will die out, the other ones give birth to the other ones else. Here already there were a lot of cases of plague,  a lot of floods, fires and so on, but they still did not die. And they will never die out. Vice versa will only reproduce themselves even more zealously. They will not disappear as a population. Be sure. Now let's return to the dispute. Which differences and distinctions are with whom to keep it - with a separate ugly representative from this nasty reality or with the same whole reality itself as with a swamp, which one have spawned all own misfortunes, all sufferings, all dirt and each one of thó same rotten opponents? There is no difference. Pretend you are talking with someone lost and he equally convincingly persuades you that cheating and betrayals are normal, that enriching oneself by making wars is entirely appropriate tradition, slightly violent, but fully valiant and heroic, such person will similarly justify all troubles and sorrows, will explain any devil with God's providence and will lead you to that marsh, where he's situated himself. And you everyday permanently see our reality, where people die, get sick, betray, abuse and hurt. What kind of satan has created this world? Everywhere is horror. In every corner and space. Millennial tragedy. Not less. And don't wrangle, you can’t be arguing with this facts. So, literally here and now, everywhere and just in front of you, in the greatest abundance are a lot of deprived ones, freaks, cripples and traitors. You regularly see them all. And they have rules on being. They are reproduced, are erected. And erected exactly by that one by whom was sculpted the whole world and even you yourself. That means, that all of this is appropriate, normal and justified, if our creator had allowed. So it turns out that in the sky sits total tyrant. And, as fact, you even can’t say vice versa, can't think about it in some other way, if you really have analyzed all life's costs. But some kindness obviously also exists. Very rare, but still. Is not it more right and senseful to believe only in it and deny all the other - like a night dream or obsession. Doesn't it seem to you from empirical logic that inevitably should be someone, who stand above God and devil both, that must be some idea which one time had brought them together and has made them give birth to this world. You is able to think only in the manner you was inspired, but it's a way you will never go far. Any rules and borders, and even all of your own desires were created and entrusted not by your will. This world gave you both strings and notes. In such conditions what kind of musician are you? You is not an author for your song of the fate. You is only a victim. And the most unfortunate thing is that you even like it."
"You so much, so deeply know everything. You, Oleg Egorovich, one who sees every point in line of the life, is you yourself something valuable? Is you really happy in here, or have maybe achieved any heights?"
"Try to learn: being here much smarter than others, the main decisive task and main thing is just not to start thinking about yourself as about a fool. Any alien opinion inevitably try to defame you, to break you down. Let yourself to believe it in earnest and will be instantly defeat. If you'll listen to every adviser, you'll die. So, if summarize all what about opinion, it'll be better for you to get yours. And what about passionate blaming me in unison with all the others – this is simple. Even I can reproach me myself. But what good is from it. You should try not to fracture your life. Many others don’t have any chances and, what more, never will, but you happily have. And they really can happen. Can provide you great actual prospects for perpetual times. Useful, beautiful, honest and gracious. But you run just for those who deny and betray."
“But if I'll run after those who conversely encourage, will not they sooner or later similarly betray and abuse?”
"Well, there you’ll at least get pleasure. Please, endeavor to take into mind: choosing between the role of an idiot and alike role of a complete idiot, with no wavering seek for the first. You are trying to live as a mentally stunned. Such ones like you are not held on life's scores for too long. What just for do you need this hell's torments? Drop them out. Throw off from your shoulders - like a stone, or slavish robe. Throw off and then follow the light. Or you is probably thirsty for darkness?”
"What is this light inside? - the same deception and smoke. One moment or two – and it will hastily dissipate, meanly left only vacuum in the hands. You will never be full of world's goodness either. If all here is a mousetrap, it’s much better not wait for the cheese."
"You see both surrounding wiliness and filthy essence of any life's things, but you is so unable to play not by their rules. Just don't stop stomping every and all.... And deny any law! Despise everyone and everything you is knowing. You are pleasing an abyss, a swamp. Be yourself. Such way it's more comfortable to die – in the freedom and latitude."
"To ones is freedom, to another ones - the key from its doors, and to another ones else - only fictive shape, unavailable image. It is not sent here for me, is not prescribed. Not bequeathed by the heavenly chancery."
"So if this chancery was mine ..."
"It’s time for me to say goodbye. I am going to sleep just right now – need to wake up too early tomorrow: I'll be mowing the hay, then will go to fair. And you also have things for to do."
"Then good luck."
The heroes mutely went apart.
Semyon Andreevich, as it was told, went to bed, and Oleg Egorovich slowly trudged along fully deserted country road, languidly gazing into the alienated distance and getting moderately used to deplorably unexpected anxiety. The district lazily descended into the evening. Deep dark shawl of the hanging night's murk deftly skirted lamentably rare yellow windows. Were quite dreary. Soon slightly reluctantly swam muddy round of silvery moon. The last cart drove away. Bleak expanses reflectively got frozen.
Oleg Yegorovich got to the house, climbed on porch and vanished inside.

III
In the gray, smoky building of local rail station were unhurriedly crowding arriving people. In the midst of hustle and bustle, crooked porters, barefoot beggars and wandering stray children were standing Semyon Andreevich and Anna Stepanovna. Rainy maudlin autumn wind was quite sleepily ruffling their highly raised satiny collars and hurriedly driving fallen yellow and susurrous foliage into the distance. The cold damp air was a little bit bitter and was inspiring simultaneously excitement and sadness.
"Soon our train will come here. Just two hours - and we'll be in city." - modestly remarked Semyon Andreevich.
"It is possible to get crazy in two hours spent with you." - grinned Anna Stepanovna and offhandedly straightened her coat.
It was supposed to be going into the nearest province to the town “Stoneless” - for some gifts to Anna Stepanovna, which were so difficultly imposed by Semyon Andreyevich.
Fully bottomless time, that had secretly hung everywhere, was sluggishly, gloomily creeping around. Grayish overcast sky was rather timidly turning into insipid dim veil, and so countless gathered people were arriving again and again, just appearing from here and there. Soon, in blurred and inclement distance, behind the whitish canopy of fog, a black angular body of big noisy locomotive showed and impressively produced long and booming sinister hoot. Passengers instantly surrounded narrow edge of the platform. Current landing was firmly announced. The heroes indifferently trudged to slowing wagons. Semyon Andreevich jumped up on a stair, threw off his heavyweight suitcase and extended his hand to Anna Stepanovna.
"Thank you. At least some benefit from all your presence here." - strictly answered lady: "Why are you standing as statue, zany, run for taking some places, move faster, otherwise all of seats will be occupied after several seconds."
Semyon Andreevich immediately agreed and obediently rushed to the salon.
And indeed, only few free from passengers places were left. The hero noticed the such one, quickly put own bag, then set Anna Stepanovna down: "And I myself will stand in front of you."
“You all the life will similarly stand – as total blockhead both outwardly and inside, no doubts in this sorrow, it will. You are so much wretched and sordid, all things you do are so heavy, so ugly and clumsy. You is a jerk, not more, not less, if describe you in one single word. You is jerk, just a jerk. Tell what else can be said.”
"Well, enough being angry. After all, we ride now not for quarrels."
"I guess, that probably only the dead one can reconcile with person like you. Well, seriously, how are you even able to stay so dull? What is wrong with your brain and your self?... Huh?"
"Love, I guess... Rather morbid, but still."
"When will this childhood end? You is strange. Badly strange, unforgivably."
"I'm ordinary in all, except the fact, that  my heart is attached to you."
"Please, give up all your this verbal rubbish. Chirp such fables to others. As for me, I don’t like them. You just vice versa only annoy me with such type of a baloney. And eventually - what kind of a habit is this: tell me ravings upon all the road? With no delays calm down, close mouth, at first, and don't speak. Even so, I can assure, there is no reliable salvation from you."
Semyon Andreevich came silent.
"By what is human guided here, what exactly reigns in his head?" - hought he, looking at Anna Stepanovna: “I'm begging to her with the happiness, with incorruptible mutuality for us both, and she ... Which of purposes does her indefatigable nature belong, which of truths? To which of ideals does gravitate her heart?"
The hero languidly sighed.
Anna Stepanovna was sitting silently. Her white, deftly curling hair were gently sliding along the tenderest rosy and delicate cheeks. A stringent cold gaze was monotonously and skeptically examining out window landscapes, and her thin graceful fingers were reluctantly twisting the pearl sparkling neck bracelet. She was good, beautiful and impersonal at the same time. There was some flame into her, some temper, but there were no soul. Only empty unbridled passion, girlish pride and significant natural arrogance. Nothing else.
The train was steadily following into the distance, gray open spaces of vicinities were crawling past in foggy square windows, the horizon line was shining with houses and arable lands, and plangent and so woeful chill wind was freely walking near.
At one of stations an amusing couple uncouthly fell into the wagon - a fat and short old man, bald and stocky, and a pretty sleepy lady, quiet and depressed, clearly younger than her companion and noticeably much more timid.
"Why is you aiming at a place?" - the woman's companion menacingly called out: “You ought to seat your husband first. Your madness has blossomed. It would be so right and good to hit  ridge with a stick – for you to know the price of going ahead.”
Lady apologized, helped to own companion with the carrying a suitcase, neatly put it on shelf, then took out a brush from it and began to clean husband's rugged boots.
"Better, better rub! Look at her! Like a boiled! Such a goosey!"
Semyon Andreevich glanced into female's eyes. The shy, bitter sorrow was so clearly being read in her all limply suffering appearance.
“This is how we live – ones unloved with unloved the others. We run, tolerate, rush. But what for? And by whose weird whim? We are searching, but not for to find, are achieving for being put to aside, walking, waiting again and again. All the life for being closer to coffin by bones. All it is so stupid and wrong. Aimless. Irrational. " - Semyon Andreyevich looked down.
Long beep passed and train's speed smoothly dropped. The carriage slowly arrived to Stoneless. The time to go out has come.
Anna Stepanovna contemptuously called her yawning friend out, then pulled over creased collar and indifferently reached the exit. Gray and rain-flooded platform was uninspired and lifeless. Rare liquid trees' crowns were sleepily wafting with a tragic withering. Heavy old taxis were languorously languishing at the exanimate monotonous brick building of the station. Everything was boring and perishable – city, faces and frozen gloomy terrain. Everything was dilapidated and empty. Colorless, unceremonious and awkward.
"The same longing as in the village." - commented the lady.
“Now we’ll go to shopping. It's more fun there. At the same time, I’ll show you the college where I had been studied.”
"No problem. Show. But was some sense to climb so high for returning again to the village?"
"I returned just for you. What means the city without your presence?"
"It signify, even there no one gave you sex."
"I wasn't ever asking them myself."
"That is even much stupider then. Well, start ride me along these bleak neighborhoods."
Semyon Andreevich has called a taxi, then sat his fractious girlfriend into it and ordered to follow to square. The car has docilely trudged in route.
On the crowded with stalls and goods stands noisy square lots of people were scurrying along back and forth. Were so strenuously dragging some boxes, loudly calling for tasting gingerbread cookies and bagels and continuously clinking with trolleys and dishes. Busy city was living in its usual rhythm - fully trivial and entirely meaningless. People were replacing each other, products were gradually becoming sold, and confidently fluent money were measuredly ringing on the surfaces of trays. All and everything quite ordinary. All and everything as always.
The heroes approached one of jewelry stores, then slowly entered inside and Semyon Andreevich surely pointed to the shop's showcase: "And right now just admire and choose!"
"I am choosing, am choosing, don’t worry. At least something I'll get from you here. So much time had been killed by the meetings, maybe will be pay off... No grief, if not fully, but partially.”
Lady bravely got bare her neck and began alternately to select all the presented bijouterie. The process lasted a quarter of hour and then ended at stop on a pair of necklaces - pearl and emerald.
"I'll take these." - drily said Anna Stepanovna and stepped aside. Semyon Andreevich has paid and also slowly moved away: "Got you pleased?"
"Yes, bearable. Let's now go back. Purchase done."
"But let's visit some cafe at least. We’ll relax. Our train anyway will be only in evening."
"Well, let's go." - the lady cast a glance at Semyon Andreyevich: "Anyway so shabby you are. Just like a caricature. No less."
Semyon Andreevich stayed silent.
In the room of cafe, in which one our couple soon came, there were rather crowded and fun. The visitors were clinking with their glasses, deft forks were ringing on the dishes and singing into unison to the small radio playing near the window.
"It's so gratifying here. So great." - involuntarily admired the youth: "It would seems usual ordinary tavern, nothing more, but the soul again comes to living and blossoms."
"Even such ones like you earnestly pretend at the having a soul!" - Anna Stepanovna laughed: “Nowadays everyone has decided to acquire a soul. Everyone have suddenly become personalities. Even you! So ridiculous.”
"You again try to prick me, to hurt. Beg you - stop, have some mercy."
"But what for do you need it - my mercy? You yourself also should make a leniency and become human. But it will not come out, I so clearly know in advance. Don't show your poor servility, that's amazingly useless and dull. Order me some food better. Until they'll bring it we'll need to be waiting not less than for half of an hour."
"Express your will - just choose and order." - Semyon Andreevich took out a worn and outrageously greasy menu.
"This book exists n unison with you. Just matchs in extremal degree. In everything and all." - expressly chortled Anna Stepanovna, having bursted with laughter, then selected the items she needed and returned menu back. The waiter helpfully came up.
Soon the order has also been brought.
"Enjoy." - said timidly the young man.
"And you yourself eat also not out of a throat." - Anna Stepanovna smirked: "As if without your tendernesses I will not be able to throw my food into mouth. Enough your intrusive being."
Semyon Andreevich kept silence.
The meal was spent quite uninteresting and empty. The heroes has eaten, exchanged with brief glances and then went through the exit back.
And again in a taxi.
Fully boring, typically painted car picked them up and rushed off into distance.
"Just here I had been lived before." - shyly pointed at one of the buildings Semyon Andreevich.
"It's quite observable from side - the grayest house in the town. It was probably impossible to find a house wretched more."
"Okay, you don't like again."
"But what exactly should I like? Your previous poor hut? You was living in it like biryuk, and you're living right now not better. You're demanding again and again some admiration from me, some excitement. In your opinion, should I all time of life consist into endless delight? What's the reason for it? Maybe you? There is no more strength to keep fight with your stupidity."
Semyon Andreevich kept silence again.
After while they arrived to the station. The latter one was fully empty, only rare solitary workers were keeping going back and forth and similarly rare sellers were unemotionally shouting about merits of their dried fish.
And that's the finish of all day.
Then again was train route, again similar gray wagon and identical monotonous rattling of wheels and again coming back to the village. The locomotive arrived.
Semyon Andreevich gave his lady a hand and made a way into the carriage. The voyage started. The platform melted.
"What for had we ridden ... Unclear." - concluded sullenly the hero: "Somehow stupid is my fate for me, somehow lost. Or I'm like that ..."
And once more back to vastness of village.
"Get up, outgrown sleepyhead." - Anna Stepanovna sharply called out: “And you will say you aren't silly!? Half of carriage's passengers has already left, and you is reasoning again and stupidly amusing yourself with the dreamy thoughts. Forever duped simpleton, get up!”
Semyon Andreevich has instantly caught himself and immediately fussed toward the exit.
The station was gloomy and quiet, surroundings were blowing with soft cold, two shunting trains were lonely humming far in distance.
"Now I'll go." - calmly said Anna Stepanovna: “And, of course, don’t follow me, don't commit even minimal step. That predictably isn't allowed. Such a way we will wander until deep midnight. Thanks for trip. And for presents. They are lovely... Indeed. Maybe, someone, who's really worthwhile, one a day will admire with me clothed in this pretty trinkets, maybe even will fall into love. Let's our God will somehow facilitate to this."
Lady said brief goodbye and after hurriedly retreated to the home.
Semyon Andreevich was left again alone.
"What a stupid and hard silly fate have I here..." - drawled he, slowly stepping between opened puddles: "Stupid, anguished and curve."
First lights have burned. The canvas of stretchable night densely enveloped all the serene, but downcast district. The wind got noised.
Semyon Andreevich came home, closed the gate and lay down on bed: "What to say, if describe my own life... Darkness. Trouble. What is doing with it... Don't know. Maybe God doesn't love me, as fact... Total curse."
The hero closed his tired eyes and then turned lifelessly to wall: "Right now and here I need to sleep. Just sleep and sleep and nothing else."
Has fallen asleep.

IV
One more couple of months have already been flown away.
All familiar rural expanses got impoverished and totally wilted. Outside the misted windows has erupted a cold and a ferocious winter. The village minutely got empty and depopulated.
On a small rink, flooded in a lowland, were unhurriedly riding two people - all the same Anna Stepanovna and Semyon Andreevich. Their vague silhouettes were deftly looping on frozen ice, measuredly writing out some plain repeating pirouettes.
"At least, you've deigned me this joint riding." - the young man smiled: "It's already a holiday for my being."
"You have miserable festivities." - has mindfully remarked the lady: "You don’t change yourself at all."
"I even nearly don't try to accumulate such changes. I'm again and again so much longing... And again exclusively about you and only."
"What an incorrigible dullard!"
“Exactly here I will not even argue or deny. Very well, maybe all is just so. But, anyway, I am only the one that already I poorly am.”
"It's too much clear that you will not be ever another. Fools never change themselves. It is a fact. That’s something innate, apparently. Something ineradicable."
"But you yourself is also only scolding. Just again and again. And if about mine being, I can surely declare, it would be the greatest thing just to hug you."
"Don't even think!"
"Or to kiss."
"It's much better to find own lips dried out than to be fondling with person as you. Enough ravings! Stop. Lean to others with your molesting offers. You so excellently see, that me is nauseatingly from you. But your keep pestering me further."
"I again fully am in your oppressive proscription. Literally like a leper."
"All right, such one you are. Any fool is like a leper, not especially more beautiful. You should be ashamed of getting acquainted with people, should be ashamed of the same fact you's alive. But you vice versa is rushing ahead in rletions.”
"Find at least single drop of some kindness, I'm begging."
“For someone else’s soul I'll easily find even sea, will find kindness and passion, and women’s fawning. And for your poor spirit - just hell! I’m not a mad one to be caring about all idiots.”
"But I'm not stranger idiot, not alien."
"From which of times did you manag to become related? Damn dreamer! All you do is just chatter and ask. You is sick, if you have no shame."
"I simply love you and want, simply wish."
"Such a peacebreaker. Just a nightmare!"
Skating continued.
Soon a vicious blizzard has risen and began to lay down at district.
“Let's go, otherwise it will fill up all roads, we will stuck. The ride occured not long. But, as a plus, due to this I've at least not got tired of you.” - skimpily ordered Anna Stepanovna and, not waiting for any reaction, swiftly wandered back to rink's side. Semyon Andreevich hastened too.
They folded their skates, briefly looked at each other and start silently stomping away.
Stable noise of echoing snowstorm was sounding even more distinctly. The sky was dark, the sad coldness was imperceptibly trying to crawl under myriad of powerless clothes.
Semyon Andreevich had even decided to hug his chill passion, but of course didn't dare to do.
Soon the village's overcast square has slowly and stealthily appeared.
The heroes parted.
V
It was an early early spring. The first ice has gradually begun to melt, single streams have ardently flowed lengthwise. The local spaces started slowly waking up from winter drowsiness. Along with them, Anna Stepanovna has also suddenly transformed - has become so much kinder, that even came to Semen Andreyevich herself - for tea and sweets. Such a deference so moved and dumbfounded the hero that he literally opened his mouth by the will of insurmountable amazement.
"I've come to you, just decided to visit." - smiled the lady: "Though will laugh at you again. You obviously is not against."
"I am always conversely only for. Come on – be a guest, take a seat."
"I’ll easily find where to land without any of your instructions. What for are you trying to show me your extra mind, if you don't have even a minimal one."
"You are trying to hurt the whole soul again. Don't quarrel once more. I'm begging."
"Set me a table, an unfinished storyteller."
Semyon Andreevich rushed for the tablecloth: "One minute, my native."
Anna Stepanovna immediately sharply and in displeasure snorted: "From which of times have you become my relative, moron?"
"Don't be angry so hard."
The table was prepared.
"Regale yourself, rejoice."
"Which joys? About what are you? Just poor meal with a poor interlocutor. Nothing good."
"That's all I have. For me it's quite enough."
"With such a wealth it's more right to be pauper." - the lady keenly smirked again.
And yet, in spite of all of taunts and reproaches, there was something new and unusual in her at this time, something obviously not peculiar before and even something slightly mysterious.
"Your tea is exactly like slops, but the sweets are still really tasty." - the girl remarked: "You have brought them from city?"
"Yes, just so."
"It's felt. Observably not bad." - Anna Stepanovna deftly untwisted her hair: "It's so hot here. You had lighted the fire like in severe frosts. Spring is standing in yard. Soon will be time for opening all windows and singing cheerful songs."
"Would be good to have somebody here, with whom able will be to commit all such things..."
"Maybe will be just so one day..."
"So much joyful with you, so much sweet."
"And without me it's so fixedly bitter?"
"Without you as in a swamp."
"And with me in a similar way."
"I could not even ever believe, that I was waiting not in vain."
"It means you don't know how. Don't know how to believe. Not accustomed to do it."
"That's because there is no hope, no chance or guarantee at all."
"People easily live even without any of this void phenomena. Time is hasty. There is no place for such rave."
"You is right. Time is fierce."
"And you yourself again just dream, so aimlessly ranting about the nothing. And life meanwhile is going on alone."
"I will gladly follow its tempest, if it will be with you in a pair."
"Once again stupid fantasies, once again just illusions and all. That is the point of zero. With what will you be ever happy? All you are saying and repeat is total stupid children’s talk. It's only nauseatingly on soul from such a dullness. Other [eople make plans and develop, go up. And you? You will keep your strange tales just until deep deep oldness. Then will be sadly carried out in a space of the coffin. You are empty. Are fully defective."
"That's why just make me yourself both respected and filled."
"Am I stupid in your silly mind? - to inhale own spirit in such a carrion like you. Grow yourself. Grow, ennoble. Maybe then someone'll take you in pair."
"But I never did want anyone, only you."
"As I am smeared completely with honey. Again your tales. Enough. I have listened  already, have known."
"Maybe tales, maybe they, but it's really so desired to have happiness, joy."
"Everyone fully want it. This whim is not especially new. Be sure, it will be broken and endured, will go away and give a rest. Pain will be finished, will evaporate. You would be better to think of the future, of next deals and new plans."
"Without you I can't think."
"With me your ability to think is also not extremely resultative. Add me tea. As if you don't see at all, that it's already over."
The hero immediately hurried to pour.
"What is occurring inside your fatuous head? What kind of utterly irrelevant thoughts?" - extended Anna Stepanovna.
"My thoughts are different, but all about you."
"Oh, please, don't start. I know, had seen."
"But I'm really thinking. Longly, anxiously. Am passionately waiting your leniency."
"Every kitten can be longing. Everyone is quite able to feel. Even to you, fully wretched, is demanding for love. Why don't you live with something more earthly, more modest and daily... That's more foundational, more important."
"There are no foundations, no basics for me. Only void, being thoroughly eaten by eternal expectation."
"Your destiny is bad. Bad and low. Is you still not disgusted from yourself?"
"I don’t even notice myself. And never look in the mirror. I’m entirely into you."
"It looks like real misfortune, which so sadly, so poor have occurred with you."
"Anyway, it already had happened."
"What will we do today together? Let's go, at least, for walk through village, at least, will look in local light."
"I will be unbelievably happy with the right to accept such suggestion."
Semyon Andreevich pushed back the chairs and went into hallway: "Where are we going? To the square?"
"We can go anywhere. Let's start, stop aimless thinking."
The door slammed and the heroes crawled out.
Nice young awakening was already entirely raging into free courtyard's pleasing space - the defenselessly exposed puddles were blackening, the drops were rumbling at old roof and the endless lively streams were incessantly looping.
"Good and warm. Even festive." - remarked Semyon Andreevich.
Anna Stepanovna said nothing.
Their silhouettes went back.

VI
Ivan Kupala's day was coming. The land has finally returned to life and filled with daily fuss. The hours have lengthened. The nights became warmer and visibly more active. Time has started to pass hastily and faster. Everything became a little bit brighter and deeper. Colors sprang up, countryside landscapes got flooded with leaves, glades dotted with flowers.
And Semyon Andreevich with Anna Stepanovna became, as it seemed to him, slightly closer too. The lady increasingly began to respond on his invitations, began to spend much more time together and even periodically started to show own interest and initiative. All as though as something has changed since this spring. Now their meetings have found some certain perspective, some strange hope, so unexpectedly inspired by unforeseen favorable circumstances.
So currently they were sitting on the shore, exchanging intentions and leisurely spending tenderly measured conversation.
"Where are you looking all time? Somewhere far away and at horizon. What are you going to see in that places?" - got interested the lady.
"I’m thinking about the fate."
"What for to think about her– about fate you is possessing? Anyway, it is empty and worthless."
"That's why I'm thinking even more."
“You can't fix it only with thoughts, try to move, at least, to do something. Life can't be built on pure ephemerality.”
"It's impossible to be fed up with the indifferent particularities either. What use for me from in vain success. Will it ever become really joyful?"
"And into native devastation is something similar with fun? Which  comfort is in hopelessness, what bright can be in it?"
"In it is faith, is timid hope, that I will entice my happiness and you will suddenly take pity."
"There are a lot of lost ones, and I will not regret everyone."
"I know lost ones are everywhere, and you yourself is only one..."
"And if to say about all the others, did you get deprived of each of them or what?"
"I don’t look at others here. The spirit does not warm in their flame."
"You are thoughtless. Underdeveloped. Infantile in everything you do. You have neither independence, nor far-sightedness. Only total primitive. And you are stubbornly stuffing me with its products – with silly talks and aimless dreams."
"But, as well, maybe not so aimless are they. In life everything tends to come true. Fully occasionally, extremely rarely, but still."
"And due to whom are you such a dreamer?"
"But how to live without dreams? Without them, as without the sun - no heat, no light, only darkness, bitter bitterness."
"And under the imaginary lumen source it's just an unspeakable vastness and bliss? You is cheap storyteller, unconvincing."
"As a fact, it is so impossible to convince you."
“But, anyway, you is trying. You is sedulously begging and incessantly rushing around. As if you've really believed, that it will succeed to seduce me, having easily bought by own stupidity.”
"But what can I do, if dreams born themselves."
"True, that's truth. If you was constructed as fool, the way is only one - to hang yourself."
"Yes, without possessing you, it remains only loop, nothing more."
"Bad business is not tricky."
"All my madness is closing at you."
"What a cursed kind of destiny is it – to be wasting own life on the people, like you."
"Stop getting evil, try to get used to me, have some mercy."
"Even dog doesn’t get used to the stick. Me too. I don’t intend to adapt to the fools as you."
"Why so so much rudely, so so not warmly, not affectionately, why again so coldly?"
“That's because you still don’t give up, don’t stop after all, don’t recoil away. Like a mystically attached.”
"But how else, if such necessity attacked."
"Just a damnation, not much less."
"I beg - rescue me from its will. Have pity, help me out."
"Helping to the others, you is only learning yourself not to do it. Spot your begging. You is still very long not a child."
"For you specially I can be even a slave, even an animal."
"You even now is as dog on the leash."
"It would be so pleasant from you just to fondle me, to give me conversely some chance, even if it will be obviously betraying, deceptive, vain and ghost."
"Why can't you, bonehead, calm down?"
"And the smart one should instantly part you?"
"They all don't roam and don't pursue. They safe own time and look at others. And, of course, they should be judged by God, not by us. And cursed you is again foolishly crawling near me as a mongrel."
"Again you give me evilness, send scoldings..."
"If I will be scolding, you'll never be able to come back to senses. I don’t swear. I show you truth. But for you, as for typical fool, it can't be sweet. Okay. Let's stay it for hell. The evening soon, I am going to wander. Once more back to my poor house."
"But you didn’t appoint next meeting."
"We will meet at Ivan Kupala. Will walk directly here and also swim. I'm going to release my sinful soul awfully enough. And now goodbye. I am already runing to away."
Cute gentle contour of the weightless figure has slowly slipped between the bushes, then deftly adjusted the canopy of own chintz skirt and insensibly melted in distance.
"Something strange. Even wittingly vague." - judged Semyon Andreevich: "What   does foreshadow it ... Something surely dark."

VII
The gray and deeply faded morning had smoothly closed as a lonely gray canopy. Was gradually getting cold and windy. The land was coming bored and sad. Shyly sky was slowly starting to blow with dampness. Gloomy district was frowning and freezing. Was persuasively going to rain. Semyon Andreevich got up and extended himself: "Today I strictly need to go to the city. Of course, for treats and regales for my dear."
He put his sweater on, got washed, took out a little bone comb and began to improve own look.
"Some marafet is done. So, now it's time to start the road."
The key had clicked. The door has closed.
In the faded dark building of station, just right next to its ticket office, were standing two people - Pavel Alekseevich, simultaneously stocky and puny agronomist, very arrogant, unprincipled, quite immoral and hollow both visually and internally, and Oleg Egorovich, already so notorious for Semen Andreevich.
Pavel Alekseevich was demanding from Oleg Yegorovich to sell him a part of the land, and Oleg Yegorovich in his turn was silently playing with cheekbones, as if just waiting for the finish of conversation, but then so suddenly took and has cracked with own fist to the nearest wall: “Why can't you, Herod, calm down, why do you, lousy cattle, squint all the time, damn snake’s throat!? You'll never see my land, vile and spiteful reptile. You is fallen and miserable nit. And no doubts, you'll rot in a grave.”
"Again you shove yourself! Too early. Your mouth better to shut up. Did you get here a lot? Will decrease in a moment. I’ll bring you down to this ground. My hands are long. You know well."
Semyon Andreevich got dumbfounded.
Oleg Yegorovich, not beginning to listen to the insulter, has turned back and approached the hero: "Peace to world, Semyon Andreevich."
"Such peace is similar to war. What happened here?"
"Yes, again this cursed shit had surfaced. Now we'll sit in a train, will get, at least, some ability to talk."
A beep squealed. The platform suddenly revived. The locomotive seemed.
Oleg Egorovich jumped inside, took one extra place for Semyon Andreevich and wiped the window.
"Why aren't you able to share even a piece of a simple ground? So stingy, so miserable and greedy you are. You're so brightly showing the deficit of your soul." - has pricked Semyon Andreevich.
"Believe, you don’t know much of this, Semyon. And if to tell, it'll take long time. You should remember simple thing, that Pavel Alekseevich is Judas, is terrible nit. You'll never find such creatures even in eternity. Retain in mind my modest word. Nasty type is he, disgustful. Keep away from his face. Each one gets sorrow from him. Such kind of poison is enough for all."
"That seems, no one have easy life. And I was thinking I am suffering here exclusively alone."
"The whole world consists of sufferers and only. Sufferers and Herods."
"We have a crappy world, it turns."
"Just so it actually is."
"A strange thing is this fate ... strange and lightless."
“Completely everything and all, believe me, is quite strange. So, you watch and so small looks a person in world, so lost - in the frames of wold's scale, in its lawlessness. But anyway his fate somehow stretches, curls like a thread – longly and slowly. First intertwine with others, then goes apart, but still  comes being built and doesn’t end. And to such of results can it come, through so much can extend time to time, that you'll never track down - not its source, nor its history. That is what any human's life is! - only vector and distance. But one step to the left, or one step to the right – and disastrous finish no longer than instantly comes. And by what is it ruled, this dim life? Maybe, by factors, or by height of the sky? Very close, but no. Quite everything is controlled by one soul. And it itself is already like ordinary seed. Now you have a sprout - scanty, languid and weak, into what does it threaten to turn out? Just throw it into the ground and wait. Something will grow. An apple tree, or a cherry, or only a grass. But you can’t tell a lot - into what it will decisively pour out. Such a way here it works and with life of a person. All is wholly conditioned by soul, is determined by its inner gamut. As who will the person be, whom will become, which of depths will reveal – no matter, in mind or in sympathy, all of this here is measured by soul. Even more, love and hatred are also prescribed just from start. And no difference, how exactly you are trying to rule own soul; no difference, how zealous you are doing it; no difference, how you are educated; no difference, in what society you are imprisoned, your innate contents will not move off the previous trajectory, will not somehow improve, will not change. And just in that is so sad and unbearable truth, that we trample this world only feebly, factitiously. Deep in essence, everything is already decided - to whom in hell to be, and to whom in paradise. Longly beforehand, were constituted all lists of the souls, and only after that any instances were built. Both God and devil are neither masters, nor servants. They are only givens - extremes. They are an audience. And you are an actor. But who is the producer? Did you think about it? Who has sculpted the personality of God? And what for... As a fact, the whole world has got out from one strictly single idea. And you yourself live now on the same land, where several millenniums ago the first saints were tormented, where were walking dinosaurs, and also whores were writhing in their groanings. And you, your enemies, and every body, and slops in the puddle, and matter, and distant stars, and desires, and abstractions, and old ancient mountains, and all kinds of perversions - all these things are embodied confidently by one single mind. Are fulfilled by one single person. It’s indescribably amazing. We are primitive wanderers. And so true is the thing – if you don’t know needful way, you look at everyone as at your personal guide. All we hope, all we wait for advisers. And then, according to their instructions, we successfully roll into abyss, into pure inevitable dying. And already directly there we get lost and destroy own soul. Just that one, which is substance quite viscous. Throw something on it, and this thing will get stuck. Any insult, or hope, or desire. Or dream. All gets stuck. But here is needed being said, that far not all of the dreams are really such ones. A foolish dream is not a dream at all. Similarly it concerns an unrequited love too."
"Here we came to love."
"Yes, we did. Love is like a rope. You hold one its end, and the other one is held by your partner. It works so, that there is no distinction between you and your couple, no border, no difference. Even more: it can't be any difference at all - albeit extremely small and relatival. You and your partner converge and unite into one common entity and nature. And if there are only dirt and betrayal, falsity and insincerity on the opposite end, then you also can't feel true high feelings yourself. Love is functioning like moon, like some mirror. This is something similar to reflected light. If there is no source of ray, no initial beam, then it will be no light. You're unable to feel something more, than your partner is feeling to you. This flight limit is one for you both. And if your love companion is fantom and has an empty wasteland in inside, then you also will never be exalted yourself, will never get straightened up, will never rise to promised light and glow."
"But how then to be, to act... It's necessary somehow to survive."
"To live and to survive are quite different matters. What for to climb, if you have no heights for to do it?"
"And if to stand still - is it joyful or what? Is happiness here only in final common ruination?"
“It’s better to die of hunger, than to try any poison. You need to understand - you can sit with a broken fate, you can sit with a broken life, even with a broken face - it doesn’t matter, but if your soul is broken, then you will not recover, will not ever get filled.”
"I already am empty and restless. All the time."
"Any emptiness is a thing rather luminous. It can easily be here at first, then can similarly quite easily disappear. But if some dirt was poured and born - it will not vanish, will not diminish, will not recede. You'll exist with its burden all life. With a faded own heart, as an outcome. With feebleness in all."
“But I never had strength, never felt. Neither long ago, nor in the present.”
“Don’t think, and it will instantly appear. But, of course, if there is a potential for this, a significant occasion. Then at once you'll get bloomed and colored.”
"Nowadays, all is getting painted only in black – in bitter mourning. There is no good and with equal similarity will not. And any words, no matter how much flaming they are, anyway will one day disappear, will just pass – like a boring echo. And goodbye, all the previous edifications. And again time to sit alone. To become closed in troubles."
"Even now you is fully in them, as in some invisible mantle."
"That means it's more familiar for me, more close."
"You got closer with doomed, with depressing."
"It's not your deal to decide, with whom me to hobnob. I'm free to connect with any kind of death, even with the grave itself."
"You look in stupidity, in disappointment."
"That's the best, the most suitable space for me here. An ideal shelter. If I am so much ill, that all of treatments are useless."
"You fade vainly, unjustifiedly."
"I know, that vainly. Clearly know. But it already happened – to get in spoiled swamp, so then, the last place for me also is prepared exactly just there."
"You took this place yourself."
"Oh yes, and I don't plan to share it or change."
"No one will take, be sure."
"I will not give, I will not part with it."
"Just right now I am burying and you. Am burying you alive."
"That's what I need. Such a way it's much better for all."
"It's a pity for you, after all. You're going to suffer in vain" – deeply sighed Oleg Yegorovich.
And already the station.
On that moment have wordlessly parted.

VIII
So highly desired and long-awaited Ivan Kupala's day has come. At the steep and abruptly fulfilled coast has gathered great bunch of local freed villagers. All are satisfied and prettily dressed up. Nothing strange, now holiday. It's accepted in here to celebrate right so.
Under stunted old maple have unhurriedly met two dim silhouettes. Stepan Andreyevich has tenderly hugged Anna Stepanovna: "Was you waiting for me? At least, slightly and only a little..."
"Tell, what for do I need it? But some vague desire for long having good caresses still is really present. Otherwise I would smash your dull face. But I'll try to tolerate it. So be it, continue getting pleased, my stupider."
"So unexpected, so nice."
"That's why rejoice. If it's allowed."
"Is all possible now?"
"In nth degree."
"And what a kind and a sort of degree is that?"
"You'll see."
"Miracles ..." - has thought Semyon Andreevich and then warmly held out: "Let's be going in water!"
"In such a case, start drag me."
The hero grabbed Anna Stepanovna and pulled her away: "Be sure, I will not give you back."
"You have sinked into madness again."
"You gave me liberty yourself."
"Even barely agree to give you, and you'll never calm down. Why are you so awfully nstoppable?"
"But you didn't give yet."
"I even don't think to do it."
"I will steal you, will steal my enchantress."
"Crazy you are... Ay, I am drowning, am drowning!"
"It only seems." - snatched the lady Semyon Andreevich: "Here, after all, it’s shallow, everything’s bottom is already visible."
"I am not a mermaid, be more careful."
"Oh stop, you have only got wet after all."
The swimming passed.
Semyon Andreevich has taken out a towel and wrapped Anna Stepanovna's: “Wipe off yourself. Though will get somehow warmed.”
"I already feel warm. It would be better to heat quite differently - with some ardent and fervent caresses."
"You will send me away once again."
"Perhaps, I will not. Maybe, even will expose all my carnal treasures to you myself."
"So tempting it is! Such an entertainer you are."
"You is also the same. Go down under my skirt."
The hero put his hand under trembling tissue.
"Poke deeper! Don’t be shy. Rise palm higher. Yes, exactly like that. Hold on here. Oh, bliss!"
"You are so tender, so airy!"
"Go on. Pet me, fondle. So pleasantly me there!"
"Oh, madness. This is fantastic. Divine paradise. Real outer space."
"And to that location is already forbidden" - Anna Stepanovna has stopped: "Ah, such a grace!"
"An unspeakable one!" - supported Semyon Andreevich.
"Okay. Have played a little and enough. Now will bathe again - and back to home. Stop all fun. All here is good exclusively in measure."
Have swum once more.
Semyon Andreevich has followed his passion till home and then slowly trudged away.
In his in vain and unstoppably suffering heart has timidly arisen some unforeseen and obscure, so delightfully ravishing rapture.

IX
A lonely august evening has smoothly laid on the sleepy and murky terrain. Dreary cheerless shadows thinly stretched all along fully empty and colorless roads, foggy yellow lanterns slowly silvered up, cold and viscous haze rather meekly extended over deserted dark lowlands. Tightly clouded dismal locality with a nonchalant and weary solitariness softly plunged in icy deep silence.
Andrei Semyonovich has quite carelessly gone to the hollow blacky terrace.
"Once again time for autumn had come. One another nice summer burned out. Our path is so short here, so brief. As, actually, all life itself, all being."
He weakly sighed and idly stared at the soundless distance.
"What's awaiting us, what is coming prepared by fate ... Right ahead, people say, there is time for changes. Not for joyful, of course. Not for good. Such a way does not happen in here, does not occur..."
Andrei Semenovich has stopped.
Strictly indifferent, persuasively wilted areas were measuredly echoing to the flooding heart's cavity sadness, so bitterly reverberating by dim tunes of upcoming and confidently impending autumnal anxiety. Dim and dolorous lands of forgetful calm district were torpidly and frostily melting in opaque night veil. From all of flatnesses and holes was slightly blowing with already approaching inevitable fading.
"So, in all of the lowlands there are only thickets and murky impassability, and in fate's prospects even worse. Poor life, poor years... Into where are they flying, what for... So far all we are from the light, so much are deprived of easiness."
The hero deeply looked around and turned right towards to the ravine.
"And so it is, that, after all, anyway some strange permanent feeling of sizable guilt for all being so clearly exists - every day, every hour and moment, guilt for all of world's flaws, lacks, disadvantages and injustices, guilt for all human pains and everything, that has not come here true. It is so obvious, so simple, that not you was creating this world and right you have no strength, no law for to change it, transform or improve, but so hard, so unbearable gets in each time from the same contemplation of all – of such life's hopelessness and grief. It is so annoying, so heavy to be a witness of this horror, not even speaking about being in a role of its accomplice. Exactly everything is broken, all is not as it should, all of here is wrong. But somewhere, probably, is gracefully existing real light. Maybe even paradise. Not for us. Not for me."
And already the edge of the ravine ahead.
“At least, will look at shine of stars.” - Semyon Andreevich has sat on the cooled wet grass and fell in thoughts. In the distance were faintly burning sleepy fearful lights. Turbid puffs of dense smoke were floating away from the dilapidated washhouse's chimney. Somewhere far was occasionally rustling green mellow foliage. In inside there was somehow sad - sad and languid, incomprehensibly disturbing and unbearably alarming, persuasively uncomfortable and even quite bitterly painful. Life was seeming as being stoped, apathetically frozen - before some jumping into awaiting merciless abyss, hardly exhausted and totally empty.
Somewhere over the horizon has pounded an approaching train.
Semyon Andreevich timidly cringed and then slid his strong hand along moist wet stems of wormwood.
"What concretely for do I live? For which of aims?"
Into thickness of thickets started frequently rattling little viewless grasshopper. An opaque matt canopy of the blackest deep night in full force very lavishly straightened over sullen and shyly dim plain. Some old branch has right secretly creaked in the murk.
"What for to fight? For what to go? Be trying, thinking, hoping and expecting. So impossible it - to handle the loss of death, the dark army of hopelessness and pain."
Sleeping deserted area has slowly got completely frozen. Stiff shadows subsided. The disk of moon apathetically hovered into stretched by dusk gloomy height. Everything stoped.
Semyon Andreevich reluctantly got up and straightened his frock-coat: “It's time to home. The dawn soon. Once again back to loneliness of walls. However, everything anyway is as always.”
He slowly got out onto road and, having easily increased the pace, quite indifferently strode exactly away along empty and broken tract.

X
Seeing off all the last summer days, so vainly floating away into distance, Semyon Andreevich and Anna Stepanovna were right casually walking along through painted in morning glow street. Free and careless sloppy wind was lazily scurrying among gray, pale and pensive landscapes, rebelliously rustling in already quite faded and wilted tree crowns. The serene, sleepy vastness was pacifically getting bored under blurred deep haze of a lonely and colorless fog, so thickly enveloped all the weary and calmly quiet arrays of monotonous morose quarters. First thin rays of the sun were unassumingly and humbly gliding just across fully cloudy and timidly sad flaccid district, shyly fondling all vague and delicate contours of the same type low buildings. Single carts, very rare and bleak, were measuredly crawling along by the trampled worn path. Local shops were begining to get widely opened.
"It's so great in around. So calm and so beautiful. And the day also is so careless. Pure enjoyment in all, nothing else."
"Anyone seeks for something directly particular, but a fool sees a holiday even in plague. What good is here? Grayness. Autumn. Boredom, desolation and gloominess. But you are admiring. With no reason, matter or cause."
“Well, at least, I’m warming myself by this littleness. No difference, what can be said it, but it’s really nice in inside – both from our transitory mutual unity and from so persistently unendurable weather.”
"And what exactly is it, that orientates you here only on pleasures? Why is you so?"
“Why? I want happiness. Even crooked, even frail.”
"So crooked and frail - it’s not a happiness at all. You panhandle in here for the absolute scraps - of all big, great and bright. But you'll never be able to get consoled with them. You need to look here for the good, need to pretend to something worthwhile. For all fleeting life's time is not centuries, very soon such the things will be dwindled and fall fussily off, whole their arrogance will come broken. And what then? Or you have truly believed in the best? "
"Although it’s strange, but I really don’t give up anyway - I believe in my luck and in miracles."
"Do you seriously know, how such ones look like?"
"If it will come true, no one will misunderstand."
"Are you so deeply stupid, that quite certainly faith something the same will ever straightly come true? That it will appear, will visit you itself and will eagerly jump out right into your hands."
"Well, maybe not in very hands, but, at least, it'll get shown to me, it'll come dare to bare oneself."
"And what matter, what use will you have from such act? You will never be full with only one pure visibility, with wholly hollow and empty appearance."
“You should know, any miracle is pleasant even as an image. It's always cherished, precious, genuine.”
“At me you're also only looking, admiring strictly from the side. Take, at least, me by hand, cling much nearer.”
"At my short century, once more such a rare condescension. I even was unable to expect it."
"That means you don’t know my desires, you can't read them, can't guess - by one sight, by thin notes of appearance."
"So nice is your grace, so much to my liking."
"You is dreaming and only. Once again you got fully unleashed."
"So variable you is."
"I? Why did you decide so? After what? I allow to take me by hand - yes, you may it, but vain dreaming you need to give up! Take care only of tomtit, and don't even try to stare at crane."
"But it's so strongly desired to get out some crane from my tomtit."
"Such a great storyteller, such a hero lover. You're all the time wanting, dreaming, imagining. Pure curse instead of life."
"Into couple with you I agree to have way even directly in hell, even in marshy swamp, in any kind of obscurantism."
"So hugely said. Better fix me my garter. Just will be some little obscurantism for you."
"With incorruptible pleasure."
The hero rushed to correct.
"Thank you." - alluringly extended Anna Stepanovna and lazily snuggled up to her boyfriend: "Take me to the tavern."
"Just instantly."
Turned around. Took a way right to tavern.
In inside was exactly not crowded. Into dim, softly gray vague light of a turbid, pale lamp were sadly melting with deep silence lonely heavy green tables. Cutely whitish cold smoke was insensibly floating through. Not loud music, calm and faint, was sleepily playing in remote bleak farness. Were occasionally clinking voiced dishes.
Semyon Andreevich seated his Anna Stepanovna next to oneself, then corrected disarranged tablecloth and handed out a menu: "Choose the regales."
"Even something to choose is already not bad. To wet  throat, at least, for example."
"This is also big matter."
"People say, that all rum here is tolerable. We should check it."
In next moment have asked for a waiter.
Then have waited.
Soon the order was brought.
"But rum is really not poor." - answered Anna Stepanovna: “Objectively tart thing.”
"Yes. Intricate." - has told Semyon Andreevich and put his hand on Anna Stepanovna's skirt.
"You want to go there?"
The hero nodded.
"Definitely no. Today not possible. Don't ask. Not each day a carnival. I believe, you will somehow overcome such a desire."
"I feel quite good and even so – with no leniency at all."
"That even more joyful. It would be good to eat some meat in addition. If it's here not excessively dense."
"I'll order."
The meat was brought and was really not dense.
Such a way had lunch. Then exchanged a couple more replicas and glances. Then parted.

XI
A lonely greyness of the rain has languidly painted thinned and faded close street into icy and silent severity. Mortally indifferent drowsy sky slowly got crawled along with abundance of liquid dim tones, tiredly stretched the horizon out by deep bordering fogs. Highly desolate faded land came hopelessly filled with irreversibly withered wet leaves. Fully broken and mottled with potholes old road turned hastily inundated with profound long puddles.
Semyon Andreevich, having monotonously stepped through empty and lifeless terrain, has got out to wide divarication, then exchanged couple more tiresome quarters and slowly entered the aged station building.
He had to go to the city - to his longtime school friend, Alexei Konstantinovich, a repeatedly proven good friend, in lots of aspects very similar minded and in some even fully clone like.
The hero came to cash register, took quickly out a few coins and handed them in a cold metal tray. The immediate scanty back trifle very instantly tinkled on its sloping bottom. Together with this, a dirtily gray, elongated ticket swiftly appeared.
So, now it's possible to go.
The platform is persuasively not crowded - several families with children, one disproportionate old man with a battered worn dog and several ragged teenage beggars. That's all the people.
This time without sellers, carts and bustle - not a season, not peak.
Nothing more, just ordinary transport.
The train arrived. Rightly rounded iron doors, promptly opened with creak before platform, sleepily squealed and then stopped in a good hospitality.
People started their climbing inside.
Each one sat down, settled, calmed.
Into wagon quite dark - the lamp is broken, and outside the window is also overcast. So, even newspaper to read is not possible. By the way, there is no such one nearby.
Semyon Andreevich has nonchalantly turned to the glass and got frozen.
A variously colorful and shyly timid long landscape stretched out. Steel wheels have ruefully rattled.
"What a miracle is it, the train!" - involuntarily admired the hero: "Noises, puffs, creaks and squeaks, but still pulls us and drags right wherever we need. No one hesitation, there's something alive, something human's into this huge cast-iron engine. Just as if it’s inside inhabited by soul, as if it naturally feels all and everything and zealously does its best for to deliver each one of passengers to proper places. Such a charming harmony. It all time so much seems there is nothing special or marvelous - rambled knocking and ringing, some a type of completely disturbed uproar, but not so simple, even rather melodic, even kindly affectionate. Like it was came here out no less than from under the pen of some rare composer. Nothing extra. Just beauty. Strangely industrial, dispassionately monolithic, but beauty. And it’s so simple. So clear in inside. As if primordially soldered with heart. How we were even living without trains? I'm sure, it's purely unreal to imagine."
Started beckon to sleep. Semyon Andreevich leaned back and got forgotten.
Then was a beep and growing fuss.
That's needed station.
The hero slowly rose, took his suitcase and moved to the exit.
At calm platform is quiet again. Drowsy city is serene and bleak. Streets are sad. Dismal area is deserted.
A timely ordered taxi has deftly rushed into vastness of road and quite soon was already driving up Semyon Andreevich to the desired entrance.
Then range of stairs.
Way is finished.
Alexey Konstantinovich, directly from the doorway, has put his strong muscular arm, pulled the guest to oneself and then friendly patted by shoulder: “So longly weren't seeing each other. Come inside. How heavily you've grown thin.”
"That's pure result of all I have. In the village nowadays only so." - went to inside Semyon Andreevich.
"Our visitor came!" - introduced nicely vivid and cheerful owner the guest to appeared out of bedroom young and pleasant woman, Elena Igorevna, his especially shiny and tenderly glossy newly-chosen darling.
"Look and meet, that's my lady." - lively commented he to Semyon Andreevich: “We are knowning each other for only two weeks, but it seems we are truly acquainted for not less than a whole full century. We have met at the tavern, by case. Have made identical mistakes with the door – right contemporaneously started to knock and hit in utility room. I committed such rave by the reason of drunk poor eyes, and she - because of the girlish perplexity.”
"Greetings." - Semyon Andreevich has nodded and sat down exactly on chair, so amiably provided to him.
The room was spacious and plentiful. Above the richly decorated, prettily covered with a gold tablecloth table was proudly hanging multi-tiered crystal chandelier. High walls with dark red wallpaper were boldly abounding with weighty oil paintings. Two large polished wardrobes were carefully lined to the top with all kinds of thick books and utensils. On the floor was a colorful Persian rug. On the windows were fresh-looking white jalousies. In the corner was elegant piano.
"Good at here. Fine. Assertively cute." - admired Semyon Andreevich: "And all have I - only darkness and cockroaches. Only longing and murk everywhere."
"You should go to us. But you are staying in the village. And what is there? Just hopelessness and nothing in addition."
"But what if tell about you? In where did you cope to come settled?"
"In a fire department. Nowadays I've grown up to the unit commander. Month salary is decent. And next prospect is also not bad - they can transfer my person to neighboring province. If it will fall me out. And from there, as I think, it'll be really not far to the capital. Entrusted service also is quite nice. Into there I have all in at once - money, honor, and paid uniforms. The whole set. "
"Real luck. I don't envy, but apparently should."
"And what's about being in the village? With what is possible to entertain oneself in there?"
"There’s fully nothing in there to be consoled with, as a fact. Nothing common with lightness or joy. Nobody is wanting to welcome me there. All the available money are scanty. There are no prospects at all. I’m living right so, that there is no obvious difference between me and dead corpse . Only my poor head is still spinning and my eyes also are somehow blinking. That's all my chic."
"It was always so bitter, so sorrowful into our pitiable rural wilderness... It’s unbearably painful. And this pain is long centuries old. City feasts, village stays into poverty. Into here it's in blood. All grace is in the capital and only."
"I don’t have time for it. And can't be commanding my heart. I'm rotting in here not by will, - by vocation."
"What a terrible rank, what an awful life's route. Woeful fate, hopeless, desperate. And to whom are you owes with such selfless and deep own courtesy?"
"So, one rogue cutie had got somehow found. I got hooked, got entirely broken in splinters inside of the soul. Now she is permanently standing in front of my eyes. Doesn’t leave my worn memory, doesn’t release."
"That's a way to unconsciousness, to the memory-less state. You should reduce you temper – such a swiftness is stupid. And then, with such a foolishness, to self-burning will be just a step."
"Yes, I'm already burned. I'm completely scorched. My angel is with charred wings. And also dead, as me."
"Tragedy in all. The real one."
"Here and now there is not a funeral, but an actual mutual holiday!" - interrupted Elena Igorevna: “Act more simple – just eat. Look on table, on food, everything is freezing. If all is served, it’s a sin to refuse. Cut the same goose. It is really yearning for you.”
"This is true, this is practical." - Alexey Konstantinovich confirmed: “Let's eat, we will have lots of time for being sad. Even for to cry, if it will be desirable.”
"Let's eat." - nodded Semyon Andreevich and moved to the aforementioned bird.
Goose laid out on plates. Have poured fruit drink. Then have started the meal.
"And the appetizer is really noble." - concluded brightened Semyon Andreevich: “Peerless. As was prepared for some feast.”
"All this is due to Elena, mine dear glory." - has boasted Alexey Konstantinovich: "Such a caring soul, pure angel."
"Lucky you are. Very lucky. And as for me, I'm eating the leftovers." - complained the fellow and lowered his eyes.
“You should visit more often. Will, at least, feed yourself. I had found your address with obvious difficulty. Very barely coped. And my letter was also going for month. I haven't ridden myself – was afraid to confuse you.”
"It’s not worth to be going - only for becoming disappointed. I have no pleasant into there. Only darkness."
"One murk in not so similar to other. Sometimes such things are doing in it, that it literally captures the spirit."
"I would eagerly do all the same myself. But no one gives to."
"This is a curse. Not otherwise. It's not allowed not to give. It's even sinful." - Alexey Konstantinovich smiled and looked at each other with Elena Igorevna. She was laughing.
"She supports me in that." - Alexey Konstantinovich prettily patted the lady by the canopy of her dress: "You is my outlet. My playful light."
Semyon Andreevich sighed: "And with me never so."
"Don't shy, eat. We are really glad to feed you. We have also prepared the fish, it's just waiting." - Alexey Konstantinovich pulled up a plate for the guest: "Look at him – so much emaciated, but still shuns the food. Someone else would vigorously torn it up in three throats. Do you consider we feel greedy or what..."
"Not accustomed to that."
"Yes, education and upbringing  are fierce fetters. It's so impossible to live with such things. People don’t need them — neither morality, nor politeness or decency. Religion also is the same. There is a conscience, a soul – all the other is superfluous."
"That's all true. There is a soul ... But such one can be found not it everyone. In today it is poor with it."
"But some of people live without it, and, after all, they all are still alive – are, as always, perennially rampaging, inexorably cheating and successfully growing own spitefulness and malevolence. Any creature is staying in process. It’s so hard time to time. Only here we’re basking and warming - into our close modest peace. And the people in now are crazy, unacceptable."
"In a village, it’s even worse. Life is small there. Any rot right immediately climbs to the surface."
"That's the point of sufferings. How do you even hold on?"
"Some a way... Neither dead, nor alive. Only one external look."
"Right well. At least, a look. At least, some style is done."
"What is done? Completely fictitious visual deceit? And inside is an emptiness ..."
Fell silent.
From overnight stay Semyon Andreevich has refused. Although he was thoroughly begged. The hero promised to come in a week and also took the bottle of kvass and the fish, carefully wrapped for him in newspaper.
"Everyone live a life, everyone live as people. Only I have in here an unceasingly incessant buffoonery and an endlessly hopeless tomfoolery." - the hero has languidly shaken his head and strode to the station.
The train was given.
Inside its wagon emptiness and darkness. Again without any light.
The wheels began to rattle. The road got a start.
And the meeting decisively finished.
Again oblivion and yearning in ahead.
And again native platform of village has already exposed own edge.
The time for home has accurately come.
And really so, right now its frames will easily be reached.

XII
Semyon Andreevich and Anna Stepanovna were motionlessly sitting into quiet and hazily cloudy bedroom.
The hero was constantly looking at lady, slowly clutching her thin tender palms. And the lady was invariably staying totally silent.
"Good with you. Great." - has smiled the young man.
"Is it really so wonderful? Well, we're sitting together. Well, we're close to each other. But which result does it have? Which wholesome sense does it possess? You just stare – with thirst of caresses. And what next? What is consisted in the prospect? All is vague and foggy..."
"So much I desire to find, with which theme will be able for me to defeat you. What do you need? What is inside your dreams?"
"Do you really think, you will ever be able to guess, what a woman wants? Every female wants peace. Peace, confidence and meaningful future. When own soul blossoms and all body sings. But personally you promise only dullness and loss, complete withering, in which and you yourself was built. What's wrong with you? What can be accumulated in such couple, besides of troubles, which profit? Tell me, what are you satisfied with? Tell, with what are you comforted here? All chances promise only becoming exhausted."
"I would eagerly give fully everything, would sacrifice with all."
“So, you have nothing for this doing. Only lie me again in all throat.”
"Nothing is a pity! All for to be somehow closer to you."
"Well, why again about me? Am I really so highly desired?"
"Be sure - very very much."
"Well, press to me, push. I would willingly participate in all this caress myself - would get entirely soaked with such ones. But what is standing behind each of them? Only void..."
"So, all life in around is also just vacuum."
"No matter, that vacuum. Yes so. Yes vacuum, but still with some specifics. And what am I getting with you? All is amorphous in there."
"We are living even in such conditions anyway and every time somehow cope with enduring their frames, not becoming despondent or faded."
"We don't despond, but also feel no joy in any of the days."
"For joys the time is strictly meager."
"But heart desires times, which will be quite another."
"Where to get them and where to find..."
"To to snatch it out from the fate."
"But how it? By which of ways?"
"To conjoin in marriage, in a stable wedlock. To get signed. And after be together. Then will be no troubles. And life will be released. From any grayness of today and any sensual rags."
Semyon Andreevich was taken aback: "Is it really so possible?!"
"We must believe. Believe and hope. What will disturb us, what will harm? If it will be desired, it'll be immediately done."
"Will you agree?"
"If it will look for my point of view quite respectable - I'll agree, I'll come able."
"How wonderful it is! Just some holiday!"
"It would so good and so well, if you will sell this worn and sordid house - this whole junk. So, then we will be fully able to drive in a better new one."
"But how to do it, to commit..."
"I faith, that, perhaps, you will cope. With help of sudden luck."
"I would be so glad in such a case..."
"And even now don't be discouraged. You are thinking about desires, that is nice. Are your hands warm? No, cold. Come on, get them hotter by me. Comfort my flesh."
"Wow, love."
"Yes, come on! Tender! And more frankly. Why are you shy? All my locations are already researched."
Played up. The night has come quite soon.
"Stay in here." - suggested Semyon Andreevich.
"No no, I’ll go, my dear. I'm full of fun. Enough. See me off."
"With greatest pleasure."
Went to see lady off.

XIII
This morning, Semyon Andreevich woke up initially puzzled and upset - at night he had an awful dream. It seemed that everything around was crumbling, crushing and burning - everything and all, any of achievements.
And now it's morning.
The lonely gloomy sky is already exactly out of the window. It's time to get up. For to take some brief walk.
The hero gathered, threw on a sweater and left.
The street is quiet. Fully gloomy and wholly dejected late autumn has already abundantly spreaded just all over the calm sleepy district. On the road are puddles. In the distance thick clouds. In inside total longing.
After couple of quarters, a familiar silhouette appeared - Oleg Yegorovich, fussy and awkward, was drowsily and restlessly wandering around the uninhabited neighborhood.
"I didn’t wait you." - Semyon Andreevich theatrically waved his hands.
"We got met by the morning hour. That means, we're having common ways. Where are you going and what for?"
"Without purpose or address at all."
"So, then let's go to the tavern."
Semyon Andreevich certainly was not expecting such a proposal and even got taken aback, but agreed.
The morning tavern was quiet and fresh. There is no show more sad, than a dissolute place in the early hours. Hall is empty. No people at all. Only single dejected waiter, negligently and carelessly fiddling with some bottles.
Have ordered the lunch, but abstained from the drinking.
Began to talk.
"Are you still rushing all around her skirt once again?" - Oleg Yegorovich has sadly shaken with a head.
"I can't do anything with it. I don't heed your speeches."
"It is disastrous...  Wrong and painful."
"For me it's too impossible to cope - with such obsession and desire, so heavily it attracts me in her captivity, in her passionate ties."
"The greatest trouble is exactly just in that: the softest fluff is that, which lies above the spikes. It's always more attractive to look at total trap. But if you'll come inside, then finish – you'll come completely lost. And never will be found."
"But, tell, what for to live at all, if you really don’t want to. And the fact, that with her there is certain swamp – where from did you get this? Yes, it happens to feel rather sad, rather often she's harsh and too proud. But all this things are little, all are no more than usual daily stuff."
"Each one, who does not notice little things, comes deceived at one day in the big ones. Forever know and remember: there are no small things at all. All in here is significant, all is important."
"Yes, even if right so. No matter for me. I’ll stand across the way of fate and will not ever go anywhere. Let it will even crush me, even cut me at once into shreds."
“So, for to stay across the way of own fate, you must know at first, into where it is going to go. By tradition, this thing is exclusively variable. And such a way it's able to turn out, that you will not be glad here of all, and even of yourself.”
"So, what to do? - to get used to the life..."
"Not happy thing, sometimes it's so. After all, there are forced measures too."
"So all the life is as one forced measure - from its starting till end. If to look into essence. Try to adapt to it, to cope. Unlikely will be some success, it will not work in such a manner."
"In life important only aim, only sense, that is pursued ."
"And what is it – the sense?"
"Sense is substrate. Everyone has some own unique way, own substrate. That's as with food. Someone eats grass, someone eats carrion. Right similarly works it with the sense and with all of the values - all depends on a person, on a soul and mind. Someone clings to one, someone else to another. One is based on right, one - on wrong. One scientist, of course completely crazy, has said one time, that all had come from fishes. By itself, total nonsense. But anyway, there is something common – we are clinging to every temptation and lure, as to some hook. And there are so lots of these bad mental hooks, that you can’t even count. "
"So, life inside is just like that."
"But what is life? Do you surely know? Life is a spoon, a chance to scoop from world all good or opposite all harmful and destructive. So, everything depends exclusively on measure of perception."
"Yes, this perception is like drawbar: as only we becomes even slightly deceived, we right immediately hurry to succumb."
"Perception must be trained. Believe, you should with years and practice come provided with all of its advantageous positions. It works exactly like with tricks. They are mysterious and strange, but only from the viewer’s side. And from the place of illusionist himself, not more than nothing looks magical or miraculous. And it's working the same with your head. Watch strictly at the roots - in all. See only what you need."
“So, sometimes you are looking so much, that then you want just disappear, just fall in abyss for perpetuity. And the life, after all, goes on ...”
“Yes, goes... Both life and time are doing this. That’s why it all is even bitter. Remember, everything, that burns, anyway leaves, at least, though something - smoke, or cinder, or ash, and only time here burns without trace. You never will restore it and never will return. It’s going only to nowhere and only irrevocably in each time."
"To nowhere ... To the dust of the road ..."
“And this road is so different for everyone, so peculiar. For some of them even totally vain empty path will still come out to some big worthwhile route, but for someone else even chic wide trajectory will decrease, get confused and transform into wasteland, narrow down and rot in nowhere, come faded, wasted, lost and died."
"With such a fate, beware of head - there is so much fear, that it literally bursts. My poor consciousness at times comes confidently torn."
"The consciousness is fruit of information. It is necessary to protect it from reality, to protect from the generally accepted. Any actual principles are indescribably wrong. But truly large human consciousness can't be crushed and destroyed. You will never be able to kill it. That’s like with pebble: it hurts a cat, but not an elephant."
"So it turns out - we all are animated tragedies. All are victims of path."
“There are no victims of path as at all. Here you have own road of fate and you yourself are, of course, its complete pure result. But after all, walking along life's road, you was doing something, was giving some kind of reaction - to all light and all grief. Anyone had some dirt. But someone brought up firm disgust to its matter, and someone became vice versa alike, having joined it. That’s the difference. Some a time you can come through the bitterest path, as a human. And sometimes you get stuck on almost royal route."
"So what is the way? - facts and people, you meet. But what is there - into them..."
"Just penetrate the human's head. In some of them the devils dance, in some the candles burn. Everyone has their own specifics. But mostly, in heads stands deep darkness. It stays common."
"And where get happiness in it..."
"The happiness is, we ourselves can’t take it. We onlylook at it directly from aside. Apparently, we need some kind of intermediary. As the money for buying some goods. Or a key for to open the door."
"A chance is needed. Simple chance. But it happens here only occasionally. So we go and go some a way, all the time with weak hope remembering something already unavailable - passed or past."
“Everyone has their own best time. Someone thinks of the past, someone thinks of the future. One of this times invariably subordinate the present. Each one decides here, where to move, oneself — to the void or in nowhere. And the life is a matter, exclusively whimsical. Crack it, and it will immediately become worthless. Break the same cup, and you will easily make something nice out of its fragments - some small figures, or pretty mosaic. But broken life suits only for being thrown away. Away to the garbage. If it has died. "
"Where can I get my protection? Protection from ownerlessness."
"Into circumstances. All such once are a shell. All accomplished things automatically saves from all not accomplished ones. For example, something tolerable or even empty has happened, and that’s already all – your time is already filled with it, and no trouble will take there place, no trouble will fill it. All good replaces all here all bed. Please, remember ."
"So it turns, each one event is based here on another."
"That's right. The life is like a watch - throw out even the smallest detail, and it will stop itself - and you will never have such present, as it is right now. Every fact, even small, every day, every meeting and moment has some own consequences. Exactly all is responding for centuries. It covers whole eternity. Can you even imagine..."
"Yes, and there is only one eternity – of sufferings and patience. All the world is like that. And all of people are both so righteous and modest, so quiet and sinless. But in fact they are demons. There are only rusks in inside. Nasty nits."
“Behind any external severity and humble humility, asceticism and seriousness, ambitiousness and even selflessness, most often stays only emptiness. Remember, the ability to suffer does not apply to high qualities. Any suffering should be for the sake of something, and even the most awful torment, but for the sake of nothing, is no more than a manifestation of inner sadism, exactly in this case, aimed at ourselves. The same devil needs God even more than anyone of us – for to encourage and support the compliance of correctness and to point at injustices, at disadvantages and imperfections of the world, convincingly asking us to fix them, having sacrificed in process with oneself. But that's all not for aim to improve this world - just in order to force you to burn yourself and then come deprived of the last, as a final result, having not corrected the original calamity at all. Never betray yourself, never sacrifice. This is the basic principle of holiness. Be indifferent, have no matter to all. Let will be all that should, don't prevent even dying of baby. There is will of good and there is will of evil - if you have got in touch with the last, and then you're trying to circumvent it, your result will be only worse. Leave any sufferings for sufferers. Avoid them without sympathizing. Be clearly knowing, the devil preys primarily on our empathy."
"But sometimes you so highly feel sorry for someone. Or you don’t feel sorry at all, but anyway interfere and participate. Come in assistance. You are looking for soul, that wasn't burnt, fully wanting to believe in the light. To believe into someone you meet. To have some close person."
"To believe ... What a terrible verb. You may believe in anything. Though in demonic flattery. And you are going to faith. In our world this thing is etremely inappropriate. There is only trouble everywhere, only powerlessness."
"With such a fate each our step leads all us only in coffin."
"So it had happened, that too narrow is so cherished path, which leads to paradise from here."
"That is right. Everywhere is lie."
"In this strange world lie doesn't exist at all. There is only truth at each corner. Only in the first case its role is played by really reliable information, and in the second – by absolute deceit. Please note, that any weighty falsehood comes presented exclusively under deep mask. Lie and truth are only simply elements of erection some kind of reality - either valid or illusory."
"Wisely, meaningfully. It’s, probably, so difficult and hard to be here an intelligent person. I am sure, I'm unable on that."
"It’s not especially difficult to be a such one. It’s difficult to become - to reach own wisdom and insight. To find your personal right consciousness and understanding. This world is fully like a dream —  for to wake up, to get rid from such one's trap for all of us is required a sufficiently loud sound, an irritant, that will be strong enough. That's why your head needs to digest too much rave for next ability to realize, that all around is also no more than obsession. But being smart always means total loneliness. Any superfluously heightened contemplation is a thing, rather painful, as fact."
"Are the smart ones mistaking?"
"Here such a thing is taking place – all fools comes confused and discouraged by mind's cleverness, and all smart ones - vice versa by stupidity. And only geniuses don’t care. The world is full of emptiness, full of ugliness. There are no meaningful goals, no values. Aims and means here are sick. People put real values in exchange of the hollow wrappers and afterwards stay even happy. The idiocy is now a guest, an abundantly fashionable. Recklessness is also thing, quite countless. Any genius degree is strictly limited, but the level of madness truly has no margin or shore."
"There is only darkness in here. As if God is not struggling with devil at all!"
"Here you are wrong. He cannot fight with him in principle, and he must not commit it. Only people themselves fight with devil. But they are ruled here only by stubbornness, by rude arrogance and desire to outperform anyone else - doesn’t matter in what. That's why, they mostly do it in the smallest, in worst - in anger, in meanness, in unscrupulousness. In this they are leaders. In decomposition and discord."
"So after all, we're able only to get lost. To disappear."
"We disappear, that is right. And we do it not even for a sip of great, not for light. But for nothing. Remember please, for to get drowned, you need not certainly whole ocean, you can easily drown even in puddle. Or in a swamp. But the question is, where it is most likely for you to be ruined? Where namely? In the ocean is freedom. The same sharks into there are extremely rare. And into swamp you can find any creature, that can only exist. And each one of them wants to get rid of you. So, sometimes just exactly in same tightness we are getting lost. The worst phenomenon is community, company, collective. And the higher is dependence on it the worse it affects. In such a case all your inner world immediately comes down to only one single person. It comes limited. Your consciousness comes chained. That’s like with spatial perception: no matter how far-sighted philosopher you are, but you enter close room and all world limits to its walls. And all the other space just disappears, although it doesn’t disappear as a fact. You don’t see the street, you don’t hear its sounds , you don’t feel its atmosphere. Everything comes down only to your little room. Similarly you can depend on anything at all - on the whore you love, on the home tyrant, on the one local bully or single bribe taker. And there is nothing to be done. No chance to replay."
"Why are we so hospitable for these Herods and traitors?"
"Just exactly in that their cunning so deftly includes. Remember, devil can be God, but God can never be the devil. And those times when the devil is divine and omnipotent, is full of miracles and participation in your fate, then he is sweeter than any godhead. And it is everytime indistinguishable. That's why, it's so extremely difficult to fight with the devil. And besides it is awfully worse to be friends with him too. Moreover, to love him. This is the highest of deaths."
"In all his trail. In all."
"Or emptiness. Inconstancy. You maybe see, vile and fallen of people time to time also like to play in morality. But at them it's one-sided, short-lived and exclusively fictitious. But you will never unmask and disclose them. They never carry single mask. The number of their guises is practically uncountable. And among these masks alternates either goodness and anger. You take off an another one and believe in revealed freely truth. But this is also one more fake. And it’s always directly like that."
"So after all, sometimes these fallen persons are eagerly bickering among themselves. So amazing!"
"This feature is the very salt: Even Go is not so many-sided as the devil. It’s literally impossible to count all varieties of such nits. So, of course, they sometimes bite with each other. But basically they only squeeze all good. They bring it down and then happily gloat."
"Who we are here without mistakes, without any of omissions... Just imagine! The ideal ones, holy, genius! But there is nobody like that. They elementary don’t meet."
"Anything good here is out of the ordinary. It had happened like so, had already become."
“So, what can be said in addition - any person, as fact, is so mysterious, so passionately versatile and incomprehensible. Some a time we are able on such big things - both on great and on terrible, no matter."
"Human is bottomless. That's the most dimensionless phenomenon ever. And either all this abyss is endlessly generous and lavish, or contrariwise is all-consuming and insatiable. There is no more way, no one."
"Still, it's much nicer to be smart. I am listening you and am coming amazed right with everything."
“All the difference lies into one simple fact, that for smart and intelligent person any mistakes and any stupidities are quite easily forgivable - without problems or delay, but for fool even mental illumination comes out only wrong. That’s all gradation, all obvious distinction.”
"But why does this life some a time start from such an ardent lowerness, from such a lost and humiliated state - dead, insignificant and weak. Why is all true ingenious built exclusively on something tragic and petty?"
"The lower the ascent began, the higher next all taken peaks will seem. Please note, sometimes in order to become smart, you simply need to come through stupid things."
"Amazing, astonishing and impressive!"
Came silent.
Then drank a glass of kvass.
"So, are you rushing again all around her" - interrupted the pause Oleg Egorovich.
"Rushing..."
"You aim to abyss."
"Yes, maybe so. But today it’s already somehow indifferent. So, and I am not a dog. I still got used to stick. So you are warning me right. But anyway, I can't behave another."
"That's even sadder ..."
Silence again.
Repeated kvass meal. This time it seemed not so pleasant.
"I'm going to town next to midday." - reported Oleg Egorovich.
"On business?"
"Exactly yes. Just to the fair. Will you go with me?"
"I'll stay. It's fussy there. And today I’m not interested in anything. I’m sick of myself. And at some another day - then with joy. But not to fair - to the walk."
"Walking is tolerable even here. But in the city it’s really more pleasant and free. Maybe, air is different there. More secular. On this I need to wish good luck."
"All the best to you too. Tell hello to the city from me – to every street."
"Okay, I'll tell."
Have parted.

XIV
One more gloomy November day was indifferently carrying away thinned meager minutes of this lifeless and weary autumn. The rain was Were blackening deep puddles. Occasional pedestrians were moving. And graying fog was melting.
In a cramped and awkward room were sitting Semyon Andreevich and Anna Stepanovna. Their modest coexistence was slowly stretching out in a sleepy embrace and a quiet conversation.
"Will the happiness be?"
"Will be, dear." - Anna Stepanovna smiled: "What hindrance cat exist for this? All is only for better."
"So captivating it is, that everything will surely come true."
"So, why not, if it was outlined."
"So marvelous is this my life..."
"Not only yours in now, but our common."
"I am so overjoyed."
"Rejoice, my dear. Rejoice and relish. Take everything from meeting. Enjoy me as a candy. And don't shy to give yourself."
"Such an exorbitant bliss!"
"I am entirely for you - like a treasure."
"Is all that real?"
"Yes, real, my affectionate. All is really real, my sugar."
"I wasn't even believe, that it truly can happened."
"And next it will not stop on this! All will come. All will be added, as we plan."
"With all my head would rush in that."
"So rush right now – so dashingly, so violently, as can. In my sweet water, in tart abyss."
"Oh, you promote great adventures."
"Yes, I’m promoting. So, just join."
"Once again under skirt?"
"Oh yes, of course."
"Would have we sex ..."
"After wedding, not earlier."
“Let's hurry then with this.”
"It will be. We will do. So, fondle me all, please come on. Deliver me in total languor."
"You're even trembling! And already is wet."
"Yes, I'm trembling, am trembling, please come on, beg - come on!"
"Oh, my shameless."
"Yes, exactly like that."
Again deep caressing. And again short goodbye.

XV
Into brightened and lavishly lightened by the first out-window snow spacious room were drinking tea Semyon Andreevich and Anna Stepanovna. Their usual gatherings were now especially festive - the new year was almost approaching. Calmly sweet atmosphere of the incomprehensibly desired holiday was already generously hovering in astringent and sugary air.
“Now it’s our turn to implement great plans ...” - Anna Stepanovna stretched out: “We need to settle down. Each new year ought to come with new life.”
"In such a case, I am happily eager. So, tell me, in what should I wait the updates?"
"In same house, for instance. Why not to take another one? Reliably solid, big and pretty."
"Where will we find it - who will build it for us?"
"Well, as a juvenile one! Where to find? So much of property are persistently staying for sale. People rush to the city, go out. Prices also are penniless. It would be so good to take. There is no problems for this, no hurdles."
"So after all, how can we actualize it in a short time?"
"All will be settled, if it wants to. We only should decide to act."
"That's tempting. Even fabulous. What can I do and how to start?"
"It’s fully easy. I’ll try to find some worthwhile house, will get to know everything and all, and you attempt to sell this one. So, as for me and namely my investment – I'll sell my dacha for this case. Then you'll transfer your money to me, I will add them and will go and take picked up house. And then we’ll write out the appropriate paper and will prepare for our housewarming party. And next will organize same wedding. Right after that, I’ll give to you. You is so waiting, is not so? "
"I am waiting each minute, not less."
"So, now you know really all. And while your house will be sold, you’ll live some time in local hotel. You will not be there for long. Maybe, week... Week or two. And then we’ll sweetly play and play. You’ll be hungry of me. And I'll easily surrender to sex – after wedding, of course. It will be so good to cope until the spring – to its first days. To pure floods. It would be great. As in my dreams."
"I'm totally agree. But I'm not sure, that even someone will willingly buy this my ruins."
"I’ll try to think, to chat. Maybe, someone is just looking for. Someone with a pretty penny. If will be so - I’ll let you know, you'll talk about price. And then you'll sell it, and I myself will sell my dacha. And next will go to take new place. New nest. Long-awaited and nice"
"It would be just a paradise."
"And it will be. After wedding. When I will give to you myself."
"I'm so much waiting – so hard."
"Wait, my sweetie. And in meantime, touch my charms. I'll give you all. But only after wedding."
"After wedding... All right."
And once again, an hour of affection. And once again goodbye.

XVI
An icy homeless blizzard, as an indefatigable guest, was wildly rushing around little courtyard, politely covering the lands with a lavishly fallen snow. Shyly sparse vague heights were sullenly and cheerlessly graying far behind old and frozen frame, meekly and measuredly sprawling by own inanimate colorless haze over chilled, frantic district. White sleepy distance was peacefully yearning in inconsolable January oblivion. An invariably turbid bleak sky was humbly blowing with hopelessness and sadness. An aged door time to time was quite quietly creaking. Lonely lantern was timidly accumulating melancholy. Occasionally were moving faded shadows.
Semyon Andreevich had already woken up, made strong tea and took out a pie.
He had to go to the city. The irresponsibly promised visit was unforgivably delayed and right now was unable to wait anymore.
The hero took his breakfast, then collected the bag, which was not rich in contents, and after that bravely opened the gate.
The time to go to the station.
"In such a snowfall it is not surprising to get lost."
Semyon Andreevich has added own step.
"Cold. Uncomfortable."
And once again, as every time, tract, intersection, station, wagon.
It’s crowded on a snowy platform – each one is in a hurry to spend their New Year holidays. The passengers are coming, the children are fussily scurrying, all as always. Carriages with hand luggage are promptly lugging in around.
Long beep has sounded. The way began itself.
Outside the window, detached white neighborhoods have started crawling in away. The wheels has measuredly initiated own rattling. The roadside lights turned on weak sparkling. Pure beauty, no much less.
At city's station, it's also picturesque – right everything is decorated with some garlands, with Christmas trees, nice ribbons and cute tinsel. Taxi drivers are also quite happy - grown up holiday prices are higher.
And now already needed door. And its voiced bell at whitish wall.
Alexei Konstantinovich, fresh and handsome, has good-naturedly greeted the guest, let him in and then pointed way to the covered table.
Right everything was ready: from lonely round olives and to the drake stuffed with vegetables and huge overseas pineapples.
At decorated with carved snowflakes spacious window was triumphantly flaunting tall and lush Christmas tree with red star, boldly towering on the top. Sleepily shimmering pearl balls were lavishly hanging on the festive and holiday tree, gently gleaming with faint, but affectionate glow. Multi-colored long garlands were carefreely sparkling in sweet embraces of the bright fluffy tinsel. Hesitantly, timidly and occasionally were glittering intricately cast, thin crystal icicles. But even without all that, all the house this time was especially friendly and peaceful.
"Good at here. Sanely. Not only a holiday, but a fairy tale." - Semyon Andreevich sat down near the edge of the table and adjusted his trousers: "Such a noble atmosphere. Pure paradise."
"Comfort is like gold." - answered Alexey Konstantinovich: “We try to keep it and to spud. Without home comfort no light is nice, no joy.”
"Yes, such peace is a great thing."
"And how are you? Again in poverty? How is current fate? What's new in it, what's good?"
"Yes, it seems even my poor fate got a way. We think to buy new house. And see each other much more often... She firmly insist on wedding. Doesn't give me without it."
"I'm glad for you. Maybe all will become really right. Believe in the good, and it will come. And now eat here. Eat and drink. Then we also will feast at your wedding."
"I would cheer to. Everyone would be there."
"We all will come. Will not linger. Eat for now, relax. Will you be our drake?"
The hero nodded.
Alexey Konstantinovich has neatly taken out a large silver knife and cut off weighty piece: "Now I'll treat you!"
Semyon Andreevich has thanked and started the meal.
The bird really turned out to be delicious. By such a reason asked for supplements. Alexey Konstantinovich gladly put extra portion down.
"How wonderful is it sometimes at a simple human's evening, so quiet and relaxed." - thought pacified Semyon Andreevich: “It’s so gratifying here. So fabulous. Foldable and affectionate.”
"So everything is framed by hope. Hope for good. It may be very rich in here, but without the sense, without outlet for soul - everything here will be dead, dead and hateful. Without outlet. Without my Elena. Without her I had been living here as corpse. Even in the same dashing luxury."
Elena Igorevna, who was silent before, shyly smiled: "You have found your paradise."
"I was searching and found. As a treasure – so exorbitant and extremely valuable."
"You've endowed me with so peerless incomparability."
"You is entirely mine!"
"All am yours - in any way you want! As I was made as toy."
"So lovely you are in yours mutuality, in a sweet reciprocity." - admired Semyon Andreevich.
"Even people are getting surprised." - has boasted Alexey Konstantinovich.
"I am surprised, really, yes. But I'm glad even more."
"So, call all us too - to rejoice to your happiness, to your nice home carelessness."
"At first, I need to reach it. To finish my waiting."
"Waiting is affair, quite languid. But sometimes rather pleasant and even addictive."
"And sometimes fully endless... and still barren in sorrowful end." - Semyon Andreevich sadly lowered eyes and dejectedly sighed.
"Well, come on. All the life is ahead!" - extended Alexey Konstantinovich.
"What is this life for me at all, if it is empty inside. I am waiting all time for the good. But any fate is matter, very vague. And what is life, if it is aimless in essence."
"Aim is strong thing, that's right... It leads us even harder than a compass." - Alexey Konstantinovich also came silent.
Elena Igorevna took out the compote, preliminarily brought from the cellar, and began pour it on into high china glasses: "Help yourself. Anyway, it's a holiday."
Have a drink. Really pleasant.
In the evening have opened champagne.
Alexei Konstantinovich froze with a bottle and began to come up with a toast: "For happiness - for everyone and all. For our right on dreams and for their realization."
"And for justification, for appropriateness of any internal impulses. For their relevance and usefulness." - added Semyon Andreevich.
"And for that. Absolutely."
Have drunk it. Then repeated.
Outside the window, some fireworks began to be fired. The prolonged blizzard whined.
"That's already deep night. Time to sleep." - Alexey Konstantinovich got up and began to lay out the sofa: "You'll fall here, and we will go to the bedroom. I will leave the floor lamp slightly dimmed. For the absence of darkness."
"Thank you." - Semyon Andreevich also got up, reluctantly stretched out and sat on the aforementioned sofa: "Till morning."
"Till morning."
The hero settled down. Fell asleep.
The morning came. The first thin rays shyly started to crawl through shrouded in winter immobility district. Gray, sad sky slowly turned into dim pinkish glow. Vague shadows got stretched. The land gradually began to awaken and to come to the life. Has ridden heavy postal machine. Still dark horizon, fully flooded with bleak morning shades, slowly came outlined.
Semyon Andreyevich sleepily opened the eyes: "All are still sleeping. I must wait."
An hour later the owners awoke. Elena Igorevna took out yesterday's compote, next poured in glasses and laid out the salad on plates.
Had breakfast.
Semyon Andreevich said goodbye, threw on a frock coat and then went out to the exit. Alexey Konstantinovich handed him his jacket, shook the hand, put large parcel with three remained pies and civilly accompanied to taxi.
And again railway station. Gray ticket office, elongated ticket and two hours of ride. Back to oneself. To the village. To daily life. To void.

XVII
In a faded close room of the hotel, very cramped and lavishly filled with large bags, was graciously and thoughtfully sitting Semyon Andreevich. He had sold his house and just an hour ago has transferred all money to Anna Stepanovna. So, now he was expecting news and her evening visit - with information, plans and affection. Time was silently crawling. The sleepy gloomy room was steadily darkening into silent oblivion. So indefatigably tireless blizzard was idly and vividly circling. Dim pink floor lamp was monotonously burning in its cold sorrow. Lonely morose shutters were indifferently was letting last sunshine come in. An abundantly turbid woozy horizon line was slowly losing oneself in inconspicuous dreary gloom. Were occasionally creaking the floors.
"Where are she going?" - has thought Semyon Andreyevich and glanced at his watch: “It’s, as fact, total evening already.”
Another hour has passed. On the threshold no one showed up.
Semyon Andreevich dejectedly sighed and anxiously cringed: "What kind of misfortune is it? Where could she go?"
The hero has stretched out in the chair and continued to wait.
No one came. Only night.
Semyon Andreevich has straightened his bed, then waited for another half an hour and went to sleep.
A foggy morning came. Gray room got evenly painted with the first slender rays. Whitish sun slowly rose itself. Outside of the window, single cars started riding.
Semyon Andreevich woke up, then went to shower, from the breakfast refused. Next he got ready and quickly went for walk – for to reach Anna Stepanovna and find out what concretely had happened.
Outside very cold, the snow came shyly nailed to ground, there is no blizzard at all, frequent snowdrifts are perfect and thick. Passers-by are quite rare.
The first quarter is passed, then the second. Everything is quiet, everything is motionless. Everything and all. After another three quarters, the house of Anna Stepanovna appeared - with red-clad roof and high shutters. Into there the hero had never been. He had been only huddling on the threshold, for long time so devotedly waiting for the coming of unyielding inhabitant. So now, after knocking the door, no one opened. The hero knocked again. Soon, some stranger appeared on the threshold.
"To whom are you?"
"Where are the owners?" - asked Semyon Andreevich.
"So, they have left. They handed over home to us and then departed. In where, they have not reported."
"Sorry then." - the hero turned hastily around and lifelessly strode away. The gray deserted route was indifferently leading him back to the hotel.
And again pensive room, speedily filled with the things and bleak walls.
Semyon Andreevich has tiredly leaned back in chair and dejectedly sighed: "Had she really disappeared?! Had she really robbed me and left?"
The hero has sighed again. A caustic and languid hopelessness has tightly closed over his fully lost personality.
“I need to wait, to think. Maybe, she had gone somewhere to look some house and simply hadn't said anything about such intention. Sometimes it happens so. I have to wait.”
Semyon Andreevich had breakfast and returned to the window. A lonely lifeless snow was chaotically circling behind heavy and battered frame. Viscous dense flakes were silently lying on neighboring roofs, wearily covering all the gradually thinning area. Deep grayish smoke was sadly flowing out from the high distant chimney. At road was bitterly blackening sharply naked melted ice. Were reluctantly and slightly awkwardly stretching rare carts. The murky arch was turning dark. One faded lantern was obediently smoldering at the opposite building. Rough and angular icicles were coyly silvering in coldness. And the gates were occasionally creaking.
The hero has closed the curtains and then climbed under blanket.
All the sounds died down, room has slowly dissolved, the space got scattered.
“Still somewhere is warm.”
Warmed up, dozed off and fell asleep.
In the evening no one has similarly showed up. Money left for a few days of stay, not for longer. The further got unknown.
"What is now ... What's coming ..." - Semyon Andreevich got up and again went to window. At the street was completely dark. Only far into distance of cooled gloomy murk were offhandedly scattered some yellow lanterns. Wide neighboring windows were insensibly starting to stop own light. Big turbid moon was meekly peeping out. All the snow has already calmed down. Lifeless silence reigned.
The hero turned lamp on, sat at the floor and clasped his head with hands: "That's all. Right now that's fully all. I'm lost."
Has weeped.

XVIII
On the threshold of large gloomy house of Oleg Egorovich, was standing Semyon Andreevich – was knocking on the door and, hoping at the mercy of the owner, was waiting for his appearance. Soon, unhurried footsteps have come heard, old squeaky lock has clicked two times and depressed weary figure of the gloomy inhabitant of dwelling has wordlessly appeared on its porch.
"So, I wasn't expecting of anyone! With what of aims did you come here?" - Oleg Yegorovich held out his hand and let the guest in.
"With not especially fine. With quite fatal, as fact." - has muttered Semyon Andreevich: "My life has stumbled. It got cracked up. It has finally found own turn – nasty and destructive."
"Describe, what a disaster."
"Misfortune has come. An exorbitant one. She had robbed me.  She had robbed me in once. And not by force – by promises. We wanted to buy house. She said, we’ll add up money and will find some new one. I sold my own and gave all cash. But she has disappeared. I’m without any penny. All things are at the hotel. In the evening I need to move out. Where to go, to whom ... I don’t know. I’ve come to you. So, maybe, you will leave me here. At least, for some a time."
"Okay, step in. But there are some news - you is not only one who came so. I had sheltered one homeless teenager. I call him Fedka. He was wandering and rootless, when came, had been living in boarding school, then escaped and got found by me. Such a way he inclined me to little good will and I didn't refuse. And now, as it occasionally turned out, one more settler  has come."
"In tightness, but with happiness in command."
"Conditions are not cramped, as you think. The house is quite spacious. Come in."
Semyon Andreevich cautiously stepped forward. Quiet sleepy chambers indifferently met with apathetic lonely silence. Monotonous thick walls were nonchalantly looking by single paintings. Old, but exquisitely shaped furniture, was detachedly blackening with bizarre and daintily figured silhouettes. The floors were woefully and lamentably creaking.
Oleg Egorovich has habitually lit the light and then fixedly stopped right in front of the dresser. Called Fedka to appear.
A slim and slender teenager about sixteen years old has hastily descended somewhere from second floor. He deftly moved to forward, quickly slapping with feet, and clumsily extended his thin frail hand: "Greetings to the guest. I’m Fedka!"
Semyon Andreevich shook hands with frolic lodger and then neatly sat down on the old leather sofa.
"Here with you is another unfortunate one." - introduced him Oleg Yegorovich: “Without house, sense and love. One a day he had handed all cash to his lady, and she have safely disappeared with every penny and each righteous bill of that bucks. So, now no one will find her trace.”
"Who is she? Where from had she come?" - has inquired Fedka.
"Not worth attention or remarks, just ordinary average nature, from the 17th house madam, if you need such details. You don't know of her anyway." - interrupted Oleg Egorovich.
"Where had she gone?"
"To nowhere. In particular, personally for me." - dejectedly extended Semen Andreevich.
“It doesn’t happen such a way. Describe me her appearance and features. I’ll find her out in a day. I can find truly everything here. I’m smart inside as hundred of best brains.” - suggested boastfully Fedka.
Semyon Andreevich gradually began to characterize his ill-fated sweetheart.
"So, let's summarize. She is called Anna. About 25 years old. Blond. I've understood. All right. For perfect searching totally enough." - Fedka promptly jumped up: "Uncle, give me now a sheepskin coat. I will go to square, next will quickly run back. Will ask some people."
Oleg Egorovich has reluctantly taken the sheepskin coat out: "Hold on. But be careful only. Once again you’ll come back with the beaten by somebody face."
"I don't care or mind. Person's face - not a vase, will come cured one a time."
Fedka deftly got dressed and then hurriedly walked down the stairs: "Not much longer than instantly, wait, I'll come back. Sit for while, make some tea."
Oleg Egorovich has blankly closed the door, then louringly and slowly returned. Next put the samovar on fire.
"Where did you find him?" - quite surprisedly asked Semyon Andreevich.
"Yes, such young miracles are now at every step. At the square had been wandering through. With a harmed by compatriots nose. So I had to provide him with roof. And now I need to do the same with you."
"And now you need to do the same with me..." - Semyon Andreevich has sighed and sadly lowered his gaze: "I will go to hotel for things. Otherwise, they will throw them away."
"Yes, go. Come up, I'll open you the door."
Oleg Egorovich saw off the guest and lonely stayed to wait.
Fedka returned the first.
"I've found her out. I even saw her face myself. She had settled with ours agronomist - with Pavel Alekseevich. So, now lives with him."
"Damn him. Damn up this nasty creature!" - Oleg Yegorovich got boiled: "A bastard nit. Why he still didn't die, didn't rot!?"
"Explain me, uncle, why are you so angry at him? Did he offend you with something?"
"Semyon will come and I will tell. I had to do it, anyway."
"Yes, he will come, will come right soon. From minute to minute."
And indeed, approximately after fifteen minutes, Semyon Andreevich showed up with several suitcases and large bag.
"Such a plenty of things! Like ballerina came with visit." - Fedka shrilly remarked.
"Enough with jokes! Nothing to be fun." - Oleg Egorovich has stopped.
"With our agronomist your lady spend the time. With Pavel Alekseevich." - the boy has hastily reported.
"I remember, you had been quarreling with him in one of days." - at such words Semen Andreevich has sluggishly turned to Oleg Egorovich.
"I had been quarreling, I know. And I will do it just until the grave. I'll tell you now all the plot, if it came so necessary." - Oleg Yegorovich sat down in a chair and began his expositive telling: "It was a long of time ago. When I was young right so, as now are you. That time his father was alive - Alexei Dmitrievich. Putrid nit in inside. Actually, exactly the same, as his nefarious offspring. So one a day this old vile man has decided to take low possession of Julia Ivanovna , the one who was beloved for my own brother. And so it was, that they already were living together, and even for a long - about five-six years. So, Alexei Dmitrievich also fell in desire - so impeccably luxurious was the girl - both with body's daintiness and temper. This herod started to entice her, to attract with rich gifts. And such a way a whole year. After all, then he somehow broke her, she agreed. So, my poor Boris Yegorovich even stopped own sleeping. He simply fell in deepest stupor. So was lasting for week. And then we came home, and he was hanging in a noose. And near was laying little note - I can’t bear it, can't overcome. Aleksey Dmitrievich was playing with her for six months and later left alone, then found similar new one, the same mean rat. Exactly she got birth to Pavlik. That’s all the truth. When my parents found out all this, they immediately got fully hurt. Two years later they both died. With difference in only two month. First mommy, then father. So I got left without everyone. And even now am alone."
"Such a purulent nit and bastard!" - Semyon Andreevich maliciously clenched his fists.
"I also spoke about that. But what will you do... Will only dirt your own life."
"I'll kill him. Kill with knife in throat. And if to say about the slut – I'll tie her flesh to horse and let to field - for torments." - suggested Fedka.
"Be quiet, rid of useless rave, don’t be so zealous in suchlike. Without you, a lot of troubles are inextricably with us." - Oleg Egorovich has quickly interrupted him again.
"So, what to do?" - has sighed Semyon Andreevich.
"We'll live at first. In here, in what we have. So, next, maybe, something will changed." - Oleg Yegorovich has reached for the samovar and poured tea: "Drink more. At least, will warm yourselves."
"Such a nasty village!" -  remarked Fedka and grabbed the cup.
"Don't singe yourself, be more attentive."
"The main is tot to singe the soul. The hand will heal in anyway."
"Joyless year. In all." - complained Semyon Andreevich.
"Year as year. People are scums." - objected him revived Fedka.
"That's also true. Agree with you." - Semyon Andreevich has slowly sipped his tea and then got silent.
Oleg Egorovich has thrown light glance at picked poor fellows and quietly yawned: "It’s time to sleep. Tomorrow we’ll try to cope with troubles. And in meantime, will rest in bed. That's we. And personally Fedka will do it on the attic, just as always. And I will go to the cellar. It’s much better to sleep in the darkness."
All the chairs were pushed back. Everyone settled down, dozed off.
Deep faceless night has descended on town. The house came exactly quiet. Sounds got evaporated No light. Only emptiness.
Yes, emptiness. No more.

XIX
Fedka and Semyon Andreevich were sitting in a vague attic, tightly filled with old things. Their dim, unlucky unity was flowing both slowly and sleepily. The speech was sluggish. Thick languid sadness was inherently coming in every word, and sad themes were equally not full of liveliness or fun. Oleg Egorovich was not with them - he disappeared to the shop, for to optimize trade. All atmosphere was attracting apathy, nude walls were blowing with soft cold, and aged carved watches were bringing only melancholy and depression.
"Was she extraordinary sweet and truly worthy of delight?" - asked Fedka.
"No matter in now. This case is dead."
"Now dead, but that time was alive."
"What is from this? Time will never turn back ..."
"But what for to come back in the present? If all the heart is fully broken."
"It hurts me, wrecks me anyway... But whether will you understand... - in your small years."
"You think, I'm stupid? Or think, I don’t understand? I understand here everything and all, I even feel."
"At least somebody share my longing."
"Even if some will truly divide all that one, it will not be somehow less. If it’s dark in your soul, matches are useless."
"Was you suffering here yourself, if you know it so clear?"
"My whole life is one big torment. And now I met the one is rather similar."
"All doomed ones one of days come combined. This is the truth, even rule."
"Into being together even hell brings your pleasure. And in being alone even paradise looks like a punishment."
"And you are smart. Where was you studying and by whom?"
"Almost nowhere, as a fact. I am abandoned all my life. And, after all, no one will teach you to be happy. And all regalia and science - our righteous world had been somehow living for centuries without any of this things."
"I also am a fool. I finished college, but I even don’t what for. Anyway, I am here. Am dusting at this hazy attic."
"So it's working in our life, that something different is needed for the heart - firmness, truthfulness, straightforwardness and hardness. And ringing with the mind is fully pointless. After all, we are far not field cows, vainly beating with their horseshoes."
"The mind is also too short matter."
"Among the fools it has no need."
"But where to find such place - without them..."
"Not on this earth, unambiguously and truly."
"Yes, only loneliness exists here, all is right."
The door has creaked. Footsteps got clearly heard. Oleg Egorovich returned to home space.
"Our uncle has come." - Fedka aptly stretched out and started to trudge down to the first home's floor: "Let's go to supper."
"I am going, don't call."
Oleg Egorovich returned not fully empty – in hands is bag with pies, frozen cranberries and freshly purchased kvass. Real expanse.
"Oh, such rich goodies! Like for feast." - has delighted pleased Fedka.
Have sat at table. Brewed strong tea. Began to have immodest dinner. Have eaten all.
"Again it's almost time to sleep." - has sighed Fedka.
"That's right. It's dark again. Rest time once more. Day's end, all so." - Oleg Yegorovich removed used dishes to aside and deftly slipped to cellar. Fedka slipped to the attic. Semyon Andreevich to corner with his bed.
Each one has firmly settled down.
The time got stopped. The night has come.

XX
In room is quiet, dark and calm. Semyon Andreevich is sitting in armchair, nimble Fedka is fiddling with something in dresser.
Oleg Egorovich is not at home again.
Outside sleepy window's square is unstoppably thickening featureless fog. Rare logs are insensibly crackling into sparkling in transparent murk fireplace. Empty cheerless, not covered table is sorrowfully looking far in void with blankly strength-less, scarily dense sadness and oppression.
"There is one secret, that I had carefully concealed." - has rather suddenly said Fedka: “Don’t tell to uncle. That's my plea.”
"What kind of secret? Dark and scary?"
"One a lady appeared. My certain fate. Believe, not less. But I'll be killed, if all will come avowedly opened."
"By which of reasons is it so?"
"Not free is she. Already married. For inexcusably long time. That had happened entirely wrongly."
"But what about uncle? He will not hurt, I know."
"That's so, yes, but I'm afraid to say. He will never approve, anyway."
"He had been scolding me the same. But I did not heed anything."
"I am like that. I will not listen to."
"Say it, cope. It's much harder to hide all inside."
"Damn you, human ... I said you secret, and you're forcing me to open up."
"You will not hide an awl in bag for long."
“All that is true... I also want to say, but my mouth stays speechlessly numb. It’s not a time, not now, not today.”
"Come into unity with will, get gathered. The uncle will take pity anyway."
"I'm fearing to spoil. So dark this matter is."
"After time it will inevitably turn up to be infinitely much more difficult."
"So, you are telling me to say?"
“If something will go wrong, I will stop started punishment.”
"My savior have appeared, great. Okay. I will."
Began their waiting for Oleg Egorovich. Quite soon he came. Has brought tasty grocery gifts. Then has heard for the secrecy.
"Day after day is not much easier. First, Semyon. Now you. Pure heaven's punishment, not less!" - Oleg Yegorovich has sighed: "What should I do with both of you? With two cursed ones."
"To have some mercy and not scold, not beat."
“You, Fedka, can't be scared by fist. I don't think of swearing you. The life is yours. Mistakes are either yours and only. Committings too. If you wish, do as know. I will not leave your mouth without piece of bread in anyway. If I had taken you – will care."
"So kind you are."
"By what and where? I ordinary am. Only merciful. From compassion, apparently, it is..."
Came silent. Got subsided. Fell in thoughts.

XXI
In improved living room were sitting Semyon Andreevich and Oleg Egorovich. Were devotedly waiting for Fedka - not for only one him, but for his choosen too, for that same married passion.
The room is bright. On the table delicious dinner - pies, ham, boiled pork.
On the window — flowers: for upcoming occasion.
The dishes set is also fully ready.
Soon strong knock reached the door and Fedka with Klavdia Filippovna contemporaneously appeared on the threshold. If to describe the aforementioned companion, that was a quiet, downtrodden and hammered woman of nearly thirty-five, with an incessantly unemotional waxy face and a lowered gaze, blurred and sad.
Lady timidly greeted the owners and began to undress.
Semyon Andreevich has glanced at her curious features: "Something amply familiar... Something ..."
And all really turned out to be so – after minute of guessing, he recognized in her pale look the same stranger from wagon, who had been thoroughly cleaning on knees her husband's dusty boots, when the hero himself had been riding with Anna Stepanovna for jewelry.
Claudia Filippovna undressed, took off a snow-white shawl and proceeded inside. Fedka deftly escorted her figure, sat the darling at table and sat down himself next to her.
Oleg Egorovich has pointed on food: "Regale yourselves. Eat, drink."
"So gratifying here. All is so alive." - has sighed Claudia Filippovna: "As if escaped from ill-fated captivity."
"For freedom then. And first acquaintance." - the owner has told out and started filling of the glasses.
Have drunk. Proceeded to the lunch.
Semyon Andreevich has glanced at newly-minted couple. Those ones were sitting nearby, very timidly holding their hands and not taking attention away from each other. "You are so cute. Real pleasure for eyes. Though you are different in each and every way."
"That all is only external. And we are living exclusively inwardly - by sincere deep feeling of love." - has convincingly answered Fedka.
"This is rare today. Ghastly rare." - has commented Oleg Egorovich.
"So, human, as fact, now is an archaic phenomenon." - extended Fedka.
"Where did they go? – all the previous people. After all, we are dying today. We are exactly decomposing." - Semyon Andreevich has sighed.
"All has been changed. All has become sold out. Love, sense and any aspirations. Only arrogance stayed. Deep caustic impoverishment. No souls, no minds."
"Yes, Fedka, you are saying right." - has supported Oleg Yegorovich: “You clearly see the very essence of all this wrong unsightly truth. Maybe really just you should be lucky. Though only vague and illusive all your happiness is.”
"No matter, which one. Any happiness will be desired. Even totally short. But only true, only actual, real. Nothing else is important for me." - shyly gave own voice Claudia Filippovna.
"Well, hold on current, stay on brief. Warm yourselves with your short common joy. If not for long it promises to be and only occasionally happens."
"I would so gladly run away. Even now would do it with easiness. But I'm afraid, I will be killed, will be surely killed just with no delays. Maybe, you will accept me for living, will adopt under wings of protection and help?"
"No hurdles, just stay. It's not allowed to divide united couple. Only how you'll cope with explanation yourself? And, tell, what next? What to wait from today afterwards, into far and postponed prospect, in adjourned, long-deferred times?" - has looked at her Oleg Egorovich.
"It doesn’t matter what, the aim is only to get free. To break out with such dead relations. Forever and at once."
"Well, then consider all yourself already absolutely free. Only place for the sleep is the attic. There is nowhere else into here."
"I'm agree even under the ground. Only both with my Fedenka always."
"Just by this little happiness is so expensive and valuable, that for its getting you eagerly will go to anywhere, even strictly in coffin and grave."
"Very, very expensive. Much sweeter than the sweetest of world's things."
"Then do your bliss. Today for you it’s free. And I will go to sleep. We'll meet tomorrow at morning." - Oleg Yegorovich got up, drank kvass and deftly slipped to cellar.
Fedka and Claudia Filippovna have frozen in an embraces. Semyon Andreevich went out on the porch: “So marvelous is each of hearts. So great mysteries hide in its sphere. And now evening once again, deep silence in abundance. Besides it's getting rather cold. The time is suited only for sleep. I have no one for having pleasure with.”
The hero calmly turned around and with no haste went straightly back.

XXII
A half of month has meekly passed. Semyon Andreevich had found his new job – at local mill, in a role of its manager. Claudia Filippovna and Fedka has finally got close. Oleg Egorovich himself remained without changes.
So now they were sitting together, amicably dining and having usual conversation.
"Spring came back to the window. Even joyfully got." - has extended Oleg Egorovich.
"Only pity it's, sad, anyway, that not my is this spring. That detached are days these." - Semyon Andreevich has answered.
“Even no one’s springs are also able to make happy. Light and sun nice for all”
"If in my soul it would be sunny..."
"That's noticed right. But so it rarely happens here like that."
"Even rarities can truly happen. After all, good things too are quite able to come fully real." - has luckily connected Fedka.
"But all bad comes true sadly more often."
"Don’t see it at all, don’t participate."
"I’ll tell you something. Really strong this short new can turn out." - Oleg Egorovich has said: “It is too close for all young into abyss of old. I don’t want to disturb you calm being. So, according I chose deadline to move away. I don’t imagine, just build plans. I had been living as a rich one, so now it's time for me to perish. Don't be too sad, I'm not going to get rid of all or to come promptly wretched and defeated. So, now this house is yours fortress. Exactly yours and no one's else. And for my shop, Semyon, I'm ordering you – look. I’ll make all proper papers very soon. The profit is exactly noble. So follow for its getting as you're able – all money will be only yours. And you, Fedka, build own fate. For you, imagine and accept, whole this house is given from now. "
"And you yourself, into where are you going? From the so dear native lands." - has interrupted Semyon Andreevich.
"To the city, Semyon, to the city. To that one, where and you had been living. I will take there some cheap, modest room, will find out serene simple work. What just for am I carrying my bones into here ... You already had found your job, the shop is also stably working. There is no need in my being at here. That's why don't ask me for to stay. As I'll come settled and will find all myself – I will write you detailed thorough letter. And in the meantime, let's abundantly eat before parting."
"Oh, father, are you leaving us?" - has sadly sighed Claudia Filippovna.
"For sake of all, don't dramatize so much, I'm riding far, but not in abyss. I don't want to disturb your close peace. I'm not accustomed to such matters. You have to live here, have to build own being. And if to say about me - in my gray oldness there is no eloquent difference where to be – even deep under cracked shaky ground, even far into dark alienation, anywhere at all."
"Anyway, it's too pity - to part so instantly like that."
"We'll see each other once again. By itself, if it'll cope to fall out..."
Have come sad. Had a lunch. Oleg Egorovich has gone to own shop, Fedka and Klavdia Filippovna - to the attic. Semyon Andreevich to mill.
Each ones have parted.

XXIII
The first day without Oleg Egorovich has imperceptibly come. In subsided calm house is unusually quiet and empty. Fedka and Klavdia Filippovna are sitting at the attic, Semyon Andreevich - inside the living room – is gathering to go to the city, to Alexei Konstantinovich. Behind the thin and blurred window's glass is slowly and affectedly upcoming widely stretched vague canopy of gray dawn. Brewed tea is standing on the table. At the massive and neat windowsill are quite modestly laying just already dried up motley flowers.
All things are gathered. The time to go.
Semyon Andreevich has sipped his tea, then called Fedka.
“I am departing to the city. Will stay at there for whole day. And you'll stay here. So, wait and huddle each other deeply.”
"Then see you soon. Am hoping, all will turn out really well."
The door got slammed.
Claudia Filippovna got left alone with Fedka.
"So light it's with you. As into paradise almost. So gratifying, so sweet and calm."
"For me it's too just pure pleasure. Exorbitant, unspeakably divine."
"How great it's that we are together."
"And forever like that. We will never come parted. We will never do such stupid rave. Even only for moment, believe me."
"I believe, my sweet one, I believe you completely."
"When you're surrendered to me, I'm literally flying to the heaven."
"I'm feeling fully just the same, my affectionate light."
"At now all will is so abundantly and limitlessly given exclusively and only to us - we’ll play enough and even more."
"Let's play, let's play impudently and long - in every way and each of manners."
"So easy with you, so good, so beautiful is looking all around. As if the sun has fallen into hands."
"Yes, take me all – in any way you want, in any variant and method. I'm entirely yours – submissively, politely and forever. Completely and indivisibly."
"I'll fly with you away of all, I'll fly right now directly to your paradise."
"Yes, fly, just fly away and take me all."
"You're mine. You're mine forever, for all times."
"Forever, dear. Forever yours and only."
Have gone upstairs, proceeded to the tenderness and shame.
Closer to dinner have gathered for walking.
"Let's take a walk – for to explore our local expanses."
"Yes, my sugar. Just take me in route."
Fedka put a cute dress back on Claudia Filippovna, kissed her hands, then her legs, and led her personality for the promenade to terrace.
Two silhouettes have slid above the porch and slowly trudged away along hazy and deserted road. No one in around. Only deep reciprocal mutuality.
Beauty. Grace.

XXIV
Into house of Aleksey Konstantinovich it's unusually vain and troublesome - things are dumped, walls are bare - no paintings, no carpets.
Semyon Andreevich, having only gone in inside, has not even at first understood, where he somehow got situated.
"What had happened? What happened in here, after all?"
"You'll be better to sit. We didn’t write you of all matters." - Aleksey Konstantinovich said: "We are leaving. They are transferring me to the capital. So at now that’s all. We will never be here once again. The apartment quite soon will be rented, it already is fully prepared for this. So, there’s one request - come to here once in every two months – to gather money and to look. Some part of them you may stay for yourself, and all the extra – send to us. We will write the address when will get firmly settled."
"Again goodbye... Again new parting." - has thought Semyon Andreevich: “Why all just so? So recently we both were sitting here. And now it's time to say goodbye once more...”
“We'll see each other, anyway. This our parting is so far not the first. They promise very lavish fee. The post is also not so simple.”
"Directly as a head of the whole city's fire inspection?" - has got perplexedly surprised Semyon Andreevich.
"Oh, no. At now only of department. But then, of course, it will be seen. Maybe, I'll grow up till such heights."
"You are assiduous and hard. I'm so clearly sure, you will easily cope."
"I'm also relying just on this. Sit down at table. We'll have a dinner. All already is covered. All is ready for meal."
Semyon Andreevich has unhurriedly sat at the table. Elena Igorevna has poured pineapple juice. Then cut a piece of cake.
"Good  at you. Simply pleasure for eyes. You will leave – where also I'll eat..."
"You should start going to the tavern. And humbly wait for us. As soon as we'll come back, we'll feed you till the satiety and further. The honestest word." - has said Alexey Konstantinovich.
"This really pleases, really warms - that I'll be fattened. But even just at now I am living myself not poor, as fact."
"The main thing is to have saturation in heart. In own soul. And in the mind, in life's deeds. And the stomach will somehow endure, will not fall off in anyway."
"So meaningfully said. I literally would like to write it down."
"People are quoting me. Such a wonder." - has laughed Alexei Konstantinovich: “Oh, my fate. Just pure game! Game and only.”
"In such a case don't become there a loser."
"Only total jackpot, only up to success."
"You have a common way with it..."
"So, also lure your way to such one. Then it surely will not get out."
"It's easy to say. But so hard to execute."
"Don’t think so dreary, everything will follow."
"The last would not to disappear..."
"Come on, stop feeling so sad. Better drink your awaiting chilled juice."
Semyon Andreevich has thrown himself to drink. Then all have peacefully got up and synchronously gone to the square. At there each ones have plenty looked at updated facade of the theater. Have also stood at festive fountain. And next to final still have reached the range of offhandedly parked motley taxis.
Sad separation once again.
Have said goodbye. Then have turned to be parted.
Semyon Andreevich has come to empty station. Has sat on train. Then has stared at picture of window.
"And again to myself. To familiar village."
The train has started own moving. The platform disappeared far away. Again the route. Again new voyage. Of two hours only. But still.
All right. Again the way.

XXV
Into quiet summer grove has timidly gone out shy and fearful Claudia Filippovna – just alone: Fedka went to the city for goods.
All around is dark. The night is almost coming. Faint sounds are quite sharply getting lost, tired wind is slowly calming down in predominantly abundant myriad of thick grass. From time to time is possible to hear short bird cries. Into distance are sleepily grunting grasshoppers. Mellow globular moon is lonely flaunting on the obscure and wide heaven's firmament. Rare shadows are stretching along.
"How easy sometimes is it here - to be happy. To be yourself, to be opened, to trust in everything and all, to live exactly by each other. How blissful it is - to be careless. Into our affectionate selflessness. Where everything is opened and allowed. And there is no bounds and no borders in between me and him. As if by nature of the world we were conceived no way else than as single united impartible entity. As if from one stone we were sculpted. Under one common star. That's why all soul is so merrily singing and hoping all the time as only can. So, in what to believe, if not in one, who's close. Where else is it real to take pleasure? You're getting covered with tender native warmth - and everything is promptly coming cloudless, brightly colorful and thoroughly heart heating. This life is sweeter than all honey - soul to soul if, No earthly troubles and vain fuss, no daily anxiety. As if I'm saint. As if I'm blessed one. So caressing it's, so encouraging – to be united all of time, to be exclusively together, with my sun -.with my Fedenka ".
Claudia Filippovna has wearily sighed: "What just for is the whole people's world without human mutuality? After all, everyone is so stubbornly rushing, making valueless money, getting angry and running amok, very frequently ridding to nearby countries. What, tell, for is this stupid futility... This utter puppet mendacity. Without fire in inside, without you yourself dissolved in close partner, without firm attachment to own happiness is there any sense being here? Is there any need of rich, full life, if longing thirsty heart is grievously poor. There is no difference between lovers. There is only everything common, only totally joint and inseparable. Indestructible and unchanging. There is only me and he. And no necessity in extra things - nor in wealth , no in palaces, no in luxury lands. Only unity is desired. Only selflessness and voluptuousness. Only tart endless happiness. Otherwise ... Ashes only. All will come scattered, broken, lost. But soul, soul is eternal. And if such one is here in couple, all outside is unimportant. Storm, thunder or untoward misfortunes - all will be easily endured. All will come past and turn paid off, if you love, if believe and keep hope. "
She cautiously looked at space around. The forest got exactly faded, the darkness thickened above. The disk of moon came imperceptibly filled with dim incoming yellow glow.
"So marvelous, that even can't believe... That it happens so. That it can obviously occur. How joyful it is to be someone's, to be generously devoted and wholly sacrificed. Somehow reverent it's. Somehow lusciously sugary. As if I'm highly in the sky. Among all known constellations. As if I had been named as angel. So astonishing is it to me. So incredible."
Claudia Filippovna has shyly shivered and started going back. All around has finally darkened. Murky vastness has turned inconspicuously faded. Rare sounds have slowly come fully tranquilized somewhere far into thickened emptiness of the leisurely descended night. Faint trunks of trees have obediently merged with stretched melting haze. All calmed down.
Claudia Filippovna has very slowly got out onto road and taken own route to humbly waiting house: "My Fedya has already just arrived. In few of steps we’ll meet again. Will get deep caressings and tenderness enough."
Has looked inside approached home.

XXVI
A sleepy graying morning, dim and faint, has recklessly and calmly rolled around completely quiet and fully bored house. Along the bleak and somber corners have insensibly started to crawl thin obedient shadows. Long, intermittently uneven, pale and flaccid horizon has got floridly colored up. First mild and fluidly liquid sun rays have distinctly begun to play their rambling dancing. Neatly filled with deep shades blurred walls have reversely come lushly vivid.
Into Claudia Filippovna's arms has serenely woken up happy Fedka. Semyon Andreevich today had gone, according to his schedule, to the mill - on reception of grain and equipment, the process quite impossible to be delayed or skiped.
So pleasantly awakened joyful Fedka has wearily stretched and kissed Claudia Filippovna: "My sugar sweetness, flesh's and spirit's goddess, my precious preciousness in all. So much good it's to me, so much glorious. Even can't become full of such gladness."
"I'm entirely yours. Yours and only, my dear. Wholly yours, my delicious Fedechka. Without residue and rest. Completely and infinitely."
"So desirable you're, so captivating. As some exorbitant treasure."
"So, take me all – just whatever you want, indulge yourself in any sorts of love, enjoy of me, get carnal bliss."
"You're like an asterisk, like my personal special outlet. My salvation from all bustle and fuss."
"You is my God, my exalted and righteous light. Fedya, my sweetness. My inexpressible one. Most affectionate ever. Most extraordinary. Just pure diamond, not less."
"I will give all myself and will take whole you in exchange. You're my cosmos in here, my alluringly tempting, clearly sugary paradise. Take me strictly right now to your sweet charming world. Take me all. Take without a trail."
"You're fully mine. Forever mine. No doubt."
Have tightly merged in impetuous coition. Then jointly renewed their normal breath.
Fedka snuggled up to shamelessly flaming Claudia Filippovna: "My preciousness, my angel. How had I been living without your charms? As in cruel vise grips."
"So, was it a life, after all... Oh, take me, take me one more time – in all available ways."
Have repeated addictive flesh act.
And outside the window has just finally dawned. Sleepy clouds have started to slip.
"Common joy is not less than pure heaven! Confirm it, please, are you agree?"
"Much better than in paradise, know it, know, my sweetness. My darling one. Most affectionate here and most loving. Most significant ever, most mine."
Slow footsteps have distinctly come heard. Semyon Andreevich has gradually returned.
"It's time to get quite nimbly dressed."
"Yes, let's dress up."
Got dressed, then went downstairs.
"How did you cope?" - has vividly asked Fedka, came out to the hero.
"Exactly everything is good. All grain is taken, documents are done. The life comes better! Just imagine."
"That's great. And now it's time to eat. From very morning you're with no even tea."
"We'll brew it well. And, look, here are the sweets. I had bought them on square from Tatars. That means, such ones should be truly delicious." - Semyon Andreevich has answered.
All have sat down for to eat, got tight lunch. Semyon Andreevich has gone away to shop – for usual checking things.
"To the attic again? To adventures." - has suggested blessed Fedka.
"Yes, my love. Just to the sweetest ones directly."

XXVII
This Friday has turned out to be black. So utterly unpleasant new was grievously announced - the husband of Claudia Filippovna has showed up. And has showed up with only one intention - to kill and no less. Having somehow found out the address and also having taken the gun, he has famously and resolutely gone to Oleg Egorovich’s house, raging, swearing and sowing spitefulness. His face was bloodshot, eyes were burning, such fierce frenzy was knowing no bounds. Having sharply flown up on the threshold, the hero has immediately begun to break inward, without hesitation or delay.
Immediately understood Semyon Andreevich had hidden fearful lovers in the cellar and then has gone to open.
"Who is you? And why you're knocking? Or your forehead is thirsty for fist?"
"Where is my wife? Just answer me, come on."
"Why should I know - with whom whose wives now are. I live alone. I don’t know each of fates. Are you crazy or what? Frantic stump."
"Say, what for are you treating me now? They had told me, that here is she - with a homeless child. Or gun for you is just a toy? I’ll shoot you too. I’ve come to kill."
"Who had told you such nonsense? I have no need to know, about whom you're so ardently cracking about. I live alone, it is empty in whole house. Where did you know it, dull inflated bug?"
"I'm not a bug and, if you've lied, I’ll suffocate you, just remember. In the 35th house, was said, they were seen, and this house is only yours on the street."
Only very notorious number plate of the house had no existing - it fell off in old age. And in around, respectively, were the 34th and the 36th ones.
"They didn’t mark us. We were transferred. From the lowland outskirts. There is no 35th into here for few centuries- it had burned long ago, just in times, when last tsar had been calmly alive. And to you, stupid simpleton, was told foolishness – just for to laugh. Look at me, does it seem I am living at here not alone? Open eyes, that's quite useful sometimes."
"Well, look, I’ll kill you! Keep in mind - I’ll find both her and everyone involved."
The offender has thrown the gun over shoulder and smoothly trudged away.
"Well, at least, he is stupid. That's much higher than any defenselessness." - Semyon Andreevich has rushed inside and descended to cellar.
"Grief has come. Your past husband is looking for you. He has come with the gun - just decided to avenge." - the hero turned to Claudia Filippovna. She instantly went limp and started shaking: "How to be, how to be ... No way back. No way ..."
"Time to go away." - Fedka jumped into shock: "To nowhere, to Siberia, to the last neglected wilderness, but only just to hide away, to survive, to come saved."
"With what you'll move - with deep detachment?"
"No, with hope. With indestructible one."
“You will never be full exclusively of hope. Come up, Fedka.” - has ordered Semyon Andreevich, then went up to the chest, lined with copper, and opened.
Under a heavy oak lid were sparkling emeralds,banded  with glow, full-weight ingots of gold and richly scattered sparkling pearls.
"Oleg Yegorovich had left to me the key. Had said it all for hard one year. Such year has come. He had been saving it for whole life. That is all." - Semyon Andreevich has said, and then, having found cloth bag, begun to put all the jewelry, that had acquired Oleg Egorovich: “Hold it, Fedka. Don't waste or spend in vain. The eastern train will come at night. Under its obscure cover you'll get luckily hidden.”
"How to thank you, at least ?" - has burst in tears Claudia Filippovna.
"It’s not so necessary. Anyway all of this is not mine. Thanks only to Oleg Egorovich – both for all this and for the past."
Have quite firmly hugged. Then have come deeply silent.

XXVIII
Gloomy empty rail station was blowing up with melancholy and detachment. There were no people. All the lanterns were burning in half of own power. On bare platform were standing three people - Andrei Semenovich, Klavdiya Filippovna and Fedka. Were waiting for the train.
"That is all. New goodbye. Once again. What a fate..." - has shaken with own head Semyon Andreevich: "Don't come lost, find your light."
"All the light in inside. All around is petty."
"I'm not sure, I would really be able to repeat such an action myself - to ride far in Siberia, into darkness and cold."
"Anyway this is truly more pleasing than pure perdition."
"That's right. From own death even hell is a shelter."
A leisurely bewildered locomotive has appeared. Monotonous wagons have started to stretch.
"That is all. That's just all." - Semyon Andreevich has dejectedly sighed.
"Don’t grieve so deep. There is your address. We will write you long letters." - has doubtlessly supported him disheveled Fedka: “We will definitely respond, wait for it. Into wilderness it’s even easier. Much more free, after all.”
The train has stopped. Fedka fussily jumped into wagon, took the sack and offered own hand to Claudia Filippovna.
Semyon Andreevich has waved his lonely hand, then waited for departure and measuredly trudged back: "That is all. That is over."

XXIX
Bright white morning has slowly painted all the empty room space. Semyon Andreevich got up and briefly cringed. Put on a shirt.
“Void ...” has said he doomedly, sadly looking at a deserted life: “And again I'm alone. And again in oblivion – in bitter, gray and mingy one. Like a cursed. Like in plague.”
Semyon Andreevich sat down and poured tea. Outside hazy window, has slowly risen faded sun. The samovar got gladly sparkled. Gray clouds meekly started to come stretched. All was seeming at now so barren, artificial, irrelevant. The atmosphere was crushed by deep despondency. Silent silence was quite inexorably getting on nerves. Static fixed immutability of the soundlessness was grievously tormenting with an endless anxiety.
"All is wrong into here. Just all."
The hero got small breakfast, then went to mill, checked all things in the shop and returned.
And again into emptiness.
"Tragedy. Just tragedy, not life." - the poor fellow humbly sighed and stared out turbid window.
Gray indifferent street was just silent and empty. Calm tree crowns were remaining too motionless. Wind was barely blowing and almost was not changing the direction of smoke on the neighboring pipe.
Soon was knock into door. The postman came. Brought a letter from Oleg Egorovich.
“Good afternoon, my wards. Either evening or earliest morning. But they don’t deliver any letters in morning. Therefore, most likely, it’s a day. I am writing to you from Beskamenny. I have settled in here not so badly. Just already have found the room – exactly as I had been quietly planning. I've got also good post - into bakery, as a head of the warehouse. I didn't come here lost, deeply thanks to not bad education. I'm living, as before, all time alone. Am taking walks, am looking at expressive nature's beauty. Life is different here. People too. But in general, all is quite tolerable. I'm especially pleased with the cars. There is no such ones into village. How are you yourself? How are living? How is my dear Fedka? How is their fate? I’m glad for them with all my heart. I hope, that everything is fluent, decent, straight, nice and worthy. As, however, it befits to real person. Sincerely yours, Oleg Egorovich. " And short return address.
Semyon Andreevich has bitterly sighed, then tightly gripped the yellowed paper and strongly burst in endless tears.

XXX
In a quiet lifeless room were sitting Oleg Yegorovich and Semyon Andreevich. The last one has arrived very early and appeared directly unawares.
"Here I came. Came myself. There are some of news. That ones, which not for paper."
"Then report - no paper around." - has extended Oleg Egorovich.
"For Claudia Filippovna had come her stunned husband, had come directly for to kill, to give whole will to own hatred. Poor Fedka has speedily rushed in together with her to Siberia - as if from murderous fire. So, I've measured them out strictly half of the chest and wished sincerely good luck. I’m sure, you would have done explicitly the same."
"I would have given them the whole chest. You have done all of this firmly right. But in where, in which one of innumerable localities have they ridden exactly and on how much long?"
"All is so, that nothing is known. But they have promised me to write – devotedly, a lot, and very often. They have driven away with the first eastern train – with the night one, you know its route."
"Sweet life sometimes is sadly short... Although, maybe, all things will come formed quite successfully. Life is too varied sometimes, too complicated. You can't predict exactly all, can't guess about everything of here in at once and for whole future way."
"And I at now am alone. In a dark somber house, bleak and dismal, as actually all my earthly fate."
"Life's loneliness, as fact, is not a witch, you will get used to it with time. And if you still will turn out to be strictly unable to get used to such state of affairs, you will calmly find someone. I already got used, as you see. I’m not looking for anyone."
"It’s hard sometimes. Even truly unbearable."
"I know, it’s mournful. But such a way is made this destiny. Born, then suffer and die. So, what else can be given to us? Chance to find real love, to discover yourself. It’s not for everyone. Not for each single person. Anyway, after all, you are somehow blinking, breathing air and staying alive. We're able to remain here humans, even being all days in oblivion. The main thing is to feel what is heaven's and what is from hell."
"Time from time all is filthy. You may right now not believe me, I have no one for to say even word."
"I myself keep quite silent. I talk here only with thoughts and then forget myself again. And our fate is just a river. One is directly at its bottom, the other one is at the shore. Each one has own exclusive way."
"All are settling on bottom today."
"Then it’s more confident in there. So it works."
Have come silent, then opened kvass bottle.
"Maybe all will come better, come surely assembled. Don’t be sad, anyway. To be sad seems to tear own soul. You need to think about purely exalted, even being in dark, even being in terrible."
Semyon Andreevich has nodded.
Have sat a little, then have gone for walk: to the fountains - to catch their short beauty, then turned to tavern, had a lunch.
Then again back to home.
Semyon Andreevich has gladly said goodbye to kindly hospitable Oleg Egorovich, then has taken own bag and slowly trudged to the station.
Bleak platform is quite lonely - only few rare people. All views are sad, and even window at box of ticket office is broken. And it's just city.
The hero took his usual ticket and started waiting for the train.
Waiting finished.
Outside hazy window, dim and dismal surroundings once again have begun to swim through – wholly gray, sadly faded and fully indifferent. Only minor in all, only longing and deep melancholy. Sky is turbid. Calm vastness is gloomy. Static air is damp. Profound hopelessness in all.
And once again abandoned village. Blurred road, low porch and emotionless house.
Semyon Andreevich undressed and laid down on bed.
"How painful it is. How painful. And that is all – only walls and pure void. As if I'm not a person, not a human at all, only haggard beast. Why is so... What for... Fate is terrible thing, after all. Yes, just terrible. "
Has insensibly fallen asleep.

AFTERWORD:
On the threshold of old and completely dilapidated, uninhabited house was standing young love couple - Maria Fedorovna and Grigory Alekseevich - the daughter of Claudia Filippovna and Fedka and the son of Alexei Konstantinovich and Elena Igorevna. Were waiting for the owner.
Soon a monotonous shuffle came heard and a thin, hunched old man went out from this empty and woeful monastery - the same Semyon Andreevich, who had invariably been living at his once-sheltered address.
"Come in. I’ve been waiting so long. How are you? How are parents?"
"Quite well - in everything and all. They are firmly remembering you and were sending hot greetings."
"And Fyodor Vasilyevich has handed you this medallion - handmade, he had cut out it himself." - gladly added Maria Fedorovna.
"In where you were, you came later for day."
"At yesterday we have been going to the cemetery - to Oleg Yegorovich. Have been cleaning in there, after that have been crying... That's just why we have stayed into city like that. At same time, we have taken you sweets, right now we will richly share with them. Will come filled in enough."
Semyon Andreevich has brightened and then joyfully guided both guests in inside.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

That is all human's life. All its roads. To initial maternity hospital, or to final cemetery. Long miles, long years, fates and destinies. Either tragedy, or quite brief jubilation, at first, and then emptiness. The whole globe of the earth has been given to us, but we are rushing back and front, are tearing hearts and making deep mistakes. It seems so simple - be just happy, become such one and then rejoice. That's allowed to all. And that's why we are trampling the kilometers – endless ones, hard and merciless. Trampling, looking for, searching... First we’re going to light, then to darkness. We call troubles ourselves, substitute ourselves under thunder of fate. And impossible is to find out, where and what will come true. With whom in couple we will be and what for had appeared. That is why, it's each time so offensively - for every soul, for every human's pain and disappointment. This notions should not be at all, it's inappropriate, unacceptable. But it still is – troubles, hardships and death. And the only one thing is desired – that would be simple justification, simple need and demand - in every life and any day. That sincere candles will never burn in vain, and the light of the hopes will not ever go out, and even into darkest of the times. And the world just lives further, moves on, right constantly remaining on the threshold of something new, exciting and unimaginable. And just by this it's so carefully wished, that in the midst of this upcoming iron-ness, monotonous futurism and cognitive greatness there will be, at least, little glimpse of so simple and ordinary humanity, of normal healthy soul and elementary mercy. I would so like to see, that in bright spacious houses will be dwelling the same bright, kind people – fully honest and opened. I want to know. Or, at least, to believe. That idea of "Human" will never become an archaism. That never will become an archaism the miracle of LOVE. And in all other, everything as always: the same crowds, the same vague tomorrow, and the same game. But already for descendants. Perhaps, really much better and purer ones, than once lived poor we. How to know... Let's see...