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Chang's son. Dreams of Changa, Bunin Ivan Alekseevich

Chang's son. Dreams of Changa, Bunin Ivan Alekseevich

Chang (the dog) is dozing, remembering how six years ago in China he met his current owner, the captain. During this time, their fate has changed dramatically: they no longer swim, they live in the attic, in a large and cold room with low ceilings. The captain sleeps on a sagging bed, but Chang remembers what kind of bed his master had before - comfortable, with drawers, with a soft bed. Chang has a dream about how his first owner, a Chinese, sold him as a puppy to the captain for just a ruble. Chang was sick all the way, and he did not see Singapore, or the ocean, or Colombo, past which the steamer sailed.

Chang is awakened by a loud slamming of a door somewhere downstairs. The captain gets up, takes a sip of vodka straight from the bottle, pours some for Chang too. The tipsy dog has a new dream about how his seasickness has passed, and he has enjoyed a beautiful clear morning off the coast of Arabia. The captain called the dog to his wheelhouse, fed him, and suddenly started a conversation with Chang about what worried him (how to get through the “smarter” Red Sea). Then the captain tells Chang that he is taking him to Odessa, that a beautiful wife and daughter are waiting for him at home, whom he loves so much that he himself is afraid of his love (“for me, the whole world is only in her”), but considers himself a happy person. After a pause, the owner adds: “When you love someone, no one will force you to believe that the one you love can not love you.”

Chang wakes up and, like every day for the past two years, goes along with the captain to wander around restaurants and taverns, drink, eat, look at other drunkards. Usually the captain is silent, but when he meets one of his old friends, he starts talking about the insignificance of life: “All this is a lie and nonsense, how people seem to live: they have no god, no conscience, no reasonable goal of existence, no love, no friendship, no honesty, - not even simple pity.

Chang again recalls how one night the captain brought him to his cabin. There were two portraits on the table - a girl in curls and a slender, charming young lady. The captain tells Chang that this woman will not love him: “There are, brother, female souls who are forever languishing with some sad thirst for love and who never love anyone for this.” He tells how his wife gradually moved away from him, how he became more and more lonely.

Chang wakes up and returns to the monotonous nights and days with the captain, until one day he finds his master dead. Chang loses his sense of reality from horror and comes to his senses only after some time on the church porch. An artist comes out of the church, one of the captain's former friends. He picks up the dog, and Chang becomes happy again, lying by the fireplace in his third owner's house. He continues to remember the captain. “If Chang loves and feels the captain, sees him with the eyes of memory, that divine thing that no one understands, then the captain is still with him; in that beginningless and endless world that is inaccessible to Death. In this world there should be only one truth, - the third, - and what it is, - that last Master knows about it, to which Chang should soon return.

Allows their summary. "Chang's Dreams" is a story that was written by the author in 1916. It differs from many other works of the writer in that the narration is conducted, as it were, on behalf of a dog that recalls its past. The whole story is essentially a motley picture of the dreams of this dog, from which the reader learns about his past life, and most importantly, gets an idea of what his master used to be, once the former captain of the ship.

Introduction

With a short description of the living conditions of the heroes of the work, its brief content begins. "Chang's Dreams" is a short story written by a superb literary language for which the author is so famous. At the beginning of the book, he shows the miserable life that the dog and his master lead. They live in a miserable little room with a low ceiling and cold walls. The former captain has a poor bed, the appearance of which is in sharp contrast to what the dog has seen before: a comfortable soft bed with drawers. The dog's first dream refers to his childhood: he remembers how his first owner sold him to the captain for literally one penny. Then he recalls his first sea voyage, during which he felt very bad and therefore did not see either the cities or the land that the ship sailed past.

Second dream

The detailed description of the animal's memories includes a summary below. "Chang's Dreams" is a work built on the principle of contrast between the dog's dreams and the miserable reality in which he now finds himself. The author draws attention to the fact that the captain sank a lot, drinks a lot and gives his dog a drink too. Under the influence of alcohol, the dog again has a wonderful dream: he enjoyed a magnificent morning off the coast of Arabia and listened to the conversations of his master, who told him about his love for his wife and daughter. This moment is very important for understanding subsequent events, because it is this episode that shows that the family was the meaning of life for the captain and that his feelings were so strong that he was even afraid of his affection. However, he felt happy, and the dog was happy with him.

Everyday life of heroes

To understand the characters and fate of the heroes of the story helps its summary. "Chang's Dreams" is a story about the unhappy love of the captain and the life of his dog, who is surprisingly sensitive to everything that happens to the owner. The writer creates a sharp contrast between the dreams of the dog and the rough life that she is forced to lead. Both go to taverns and taverns, drink, looking at drunkards. At the same time, the captain is almost always silent, when meeting with acquaintances, he begins to say that a person’s life does not make any sense. This attitude to his fate is explained by the new dream of the dog: he sees the captain showing him photographs of his wife and daughter and at the same time telling him that his wife does not love him. And the reader understands that unhappy love was the cause of everything that happened.

Changes in fate

The real master of psychological analysis is Bunin. "Chang's Dreams" (a brief summary of the work is the subject of this review) is a story that conveys ongoing events through the consciousness and worldview of the dog. He led a normal everyday life with the captain, but one day he was found dead. It was a terrible blow for the hero: he even lost his sense of reality and woke up only after some time on the church porch. Bunin was able to convey the experiences of the animal surprisingly subtly. "Chang's Dreams" (a summary of the story should include a description of the changes that happened to the hero after the death of the former captain) is a deeply psychological work. The author emphasizes that the hero experienced this loss as a living person. However, it was not abandoned, as a friend of his second owner, who was an artist, took him in. With its new owner, the dog found, if not happiness, then at least peace.

Ideological meaning

The brief content of the story "Chang's Dreams" helps to understand the meaning of the work in question. Bunin focused on describing the state of his hero after the death of the captain: he described that the dog retained memories of his former owner, and he remembered him as strong, powerful and beautiful. The author paid special attention to the fact that Chang himself foresees his death. It is indicative that this happened in the artist's apartment, in an environment that conducive to philosophical reflection.

Thus, in its own way, a very subtle psychological work is the story "Chang's Dreams". A very brief content, in principle, reflects the main ideological meaning that the writer put into his work. This is a sense of the temporality of life and a premonition of eternity. This idea was clearly voiced at the end of the story, when Chang, as it were, was summing up the results of his existence.

Chang is awakened by a loud slamming of a door somewhere downstairs. The captain gets up, takes a sip of vodka straight from the bottle, pours some for Chang too. The tipsy dog has a new dream about how his seasickness has passed, and he has enjoyed a beautiful clear morning off the coast of Arabia. The captain called the dog to his cabin, fed him, and suddenly started a conversation with Chang about what worried him (how to get through the “smarter” Red Sea). Then the captain tells Chang that he is taking him to Odessa, that a beautiful wife and daughter are waiting for him at home, whom he loves so much that he himself is afraid of his love (“for me, the whole world is only in her”), but considers himself a happy person. After a pause, the owner adds: “When you love someone, no one will force you to believe that the one you love can not love you.”

Chang again recalls how one night the captain brought him to his cabin. There were two portraits on the table - a girl in curls and a slender, charming young lady. The captain tells Chang that this woman will not love him: “There are, brother, female souls who are forever languishing with some sad thirst for love and who from this themselves never love anyone.” He tells how his wife gradually moved away from him, how he became more and more lonely.

Chang wakes up and returns to the monotonous nights and days with the captain, until one day he finds his master dead. Chang loses his sense of reality from horror and comes to his senses only after some time on the church porch. An artist comes out of the church, one of the captain's former friends. He picks up the dog and Chang becomes happy again, lying by the fireplace at his third owner's house. He continues to remember the captain. “If Chang loves and feels the captain, sees him with the gaze of memory, that divine that no one understands, then the captain is still with him; in that beginningless and endless world that is inaccessible to Death. In this world there should be only one truth, the third, and what it is, that last Master knows about it, to whom Chang should soon return.

Option 2

The captain's dog Chang, came to the captain as a puppy, the first owner sold him on the market for one ruble. And here he is, lying on the floor, remembering days long gone. How he felt sick on the way, and he did not see the places that they passed by. What kind of bed the owner used to have was comfortable, soft, not what is now squeezed. Yes, and now they live not on a cozy ship, but in an attic, in a cold room, where it is impossible to straighten up to their full height. The drowsiness was interrupted by the loud knocking of the door below. The awakened captain got up, took a sip of vodka from his throat and did not forget to refill his friend. Drunk Chang again sees dreams. Now he dreams that seasickness has ended, and he is watching a magnificent dawn met off the Arabian coast.

Then the captain, having fed him, indulges in reasoning on topics important to him. Full and satisfied, he listens to the captain, who shares his plans to pass the Red Sea with the least losses. He tells Chang that they are going to his beloved wife and daughter in Odessa. The captain loved his daughter so much that it sometimes frightened him. But, despite this, he always considered himself the happiest person. Waking up, Chang proceeds to what he has been doing for the past two years - he goes with his captain to restaurants and dens to drink, eat and watch drunkards. The always silent captain, only occasionally, having met a friend, can philosophize with him about the miserable existence of all people on this earth.

He believed that there were no moral principles, no pity, no conscience, no friendship, no God, he argued that everything was a lie. Memories flood in again. This time, the captain showed two portraits in his cabin: a curly-haired girl with golden hair and a lovely young maiden. He argues with Chang that this woman, because of the constant thirst for love, is not capable of it herself. The wife slowly, but still moved away from him, leaving him alone. Again a series of identical days spent in the company of the captain, passing all the same routine. But one day, unexpectedly, he found his master dead.

From shock, Chang falls into oblivion until he wakes up in the church. The artist, a good friend of the captain, who appeared from the church, takes the dog to him. The dog liked his third owner, and he feels happy again, basking by the crackling fireplace. But he thinks about his beloved captain all the time. It means that his captain is still with him, between the worlds, inaccessible to Death. The truth is known only by that Master, the last one, with whom Chang will soon meet.

Essay on literature on the topic: Summary of Dreams of Chang Bunin

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Summary Dreams of Chang Bunin

Dreams of Chang

Chang (the dog) is dozing, remembering how six years ago in China he met his current owner, the captain. During this time, their fate has changed dramatically: they no longer swim, they live in the attic, in a large and cold room with low ceilings. The captain sleeps on a sagging bed, but Chang remembers what kind of bed his master had before - comfortable, with drawers, with a soft bed. Chang has a dream that his first owner, a Chinese, sold him as a puppy to the captain for just a ruble. Chang was sick all the way, and he did not see Singapore, or the ocean, or Colombo, past which the steamer sailed.

Chang is awakened by a loud slamming of a door somewhere downstairs. The captain gets up, takes a sip of vodka straight from the bottle, pours some for Chang too. The tipsy dog has a new dream about how his seasickness has passed, and he has enjoyed a beautiful clear morning off the coast of Arabia. The captain called the dog to his cabin, fed him, and suddenly started a conversation with Chang about what worried him (how to get through the "smarter" Red Sea). Then the captain tells Chang that he is taking him to Odessa, that a beautiful wife and daughter are waiting for him at home, whom he loves so much that he himself is afraid of his love (“for me the whole world is only in her”), but considers himself a happy person. After a pause, the owner adds: "When you love someone, no one will force you to believe that the one you love can not love you."

Chang wakes up and, like every day for the past two years, goes along with the captain to wander around restaurants and taverns, drink, eat, look at other drunkards. Usually the captain is silent, but, having met one of his old friends, he starts talking about the insignificance of life: "All this is a lie and nonsense, what people seem to live with: they have no god, no conscience, no reasonable goal of existence, no love, no friendship, no honesty, - not even simple pity."

Chang again recalls how one night the captain brought him to his cabin. There were two portraits on the table - a girl in curls and a slender, charming young lady. The captain tells Chang that this woman will not love him: "There are, brother, female souls who are forever languishing with some sad thirst for love and who from this themselves never love anyone." He tells how his wife gradually moved away from him, how he became more and more lonely.

Chang wakes up and returns to the monotonous nights and days with the captain, until one day he finds his master dead. Chang loses his sense of reality from horror and comes to his senses only after some time on the church porch. An artist comes out of the church, one of the captain's former friends. He picks up the dog and Chang becomes happy again, lying by the fireplace in his third owner's house. He continues to remember the captain. "If Chang loves and feels the captain, sees him with the gaze of memory, that divine that no one understands, then the captain is still with him; in that beginningless and endless world that is inaccessible to Death. In this world there should be only one truth, - the third, - and what it is, - that last Master knows about it, to which Chang should soon return."

Does it matter who you talk about? Everyone who lived on earth deserves it. Once Chang recognized the world and the captain, his master, with whom his earthly existence was united. And six whole years have passed since then, flowing like sand in a ship's hourglass. It was night again - dream or reality? - and the morning comes again - reality or a dream? Chang is old, Chang is a drunkard - he is still dozing. Outside, in the city of Odessa, winter. The weather is evil, gloomy, much worse even than that of China, when Chang and the captain met each other. It carries with sharp fine snow, the snow flies obliquely along the icy, slippery asphalt of an empty seaside boulevard and painfully cuts in the face of every Jew who, with his hands in his pockets and hunched over, clumsily runs right or left. Behind the harbor, which was also deserted, behind the bay foggy from the snow, bare steppe shores are faintly visible. The pier is all smoking with thick gray smoke: the sea from morning till evening rolls over the pier with foamy wombs. The wind whistles loudly through the telephone wires... On such days, life in the city does not begin early. Chang and the captain do not wake up early either. Six years - is it a lot or a little? In six years, Chang and the captain have become old men, although the captain is not yet forty, and their fate has rudely changed. They no longer sail the seas - they live “on the shore”, as sailors say, and not where they once lived, but in a narrow and rather gloomy street, in the attic of a five-story house that smells of coal, inhabited by Jews, one of those that come to the family only in the evening and dine in hats on the back of their heads. Chang's ceiling with the captain is low, the room is large and cold. In addition, it is always gloomy in it: two windows pierced in the sloping roof-wall are small and round, reminiscent of ship windows. Between the windows stands something like a chest of drawers, and against the wall to the left is an old iron bed; that is all the decoration of this boring dwelling, except for the fireplace, from which a fresh wind always blows. Chang sleeps in a corner behind the fireplace. Captain on the bed. What this bed, almost to the floor, squashed and what kind of mattress is on it, can be easily imagined by anyone who lived in attics, and the unclean pillow is so liquid that the captain has to put his jacket under it. However, even on this bed the captain sleeps very calmly, lying on his back, with closed eyes and a gray face, as motionless as a dead man. What a wonderful bed he had before! Fine, tall, with drawers, with a deep and comfortable bed, with thin and slippery sheets and cold snow-white pillows! But even then, even in pitching, the captain did not sleep as soundly as he does now: he gets very tired during the day, and what should he worry about now, that he might oversleep and what can make him happy on a new day? There were once two truths in the world, constantly replacing each other: the first is that life is unspeakably beautiful, and the other is that life is conceivable only for madmen. Now the captain claims that there is, was, and forever and ever will be only one truth, the last, the truth of the Jew Job, the truth of the sage from an unknown tribe, Ecclesiastes. Now the captain often says, sitting in the pub: “Remember, man, from your youth those difficult days and years about which you will speak: I have no pleasure in them!” Yet the days and nights still exist, and now it was night again, and morning comes again. And the captain and Chang wake up. But, waking up, the captain does not open his eyes. What he is thinking at that moment, even Chang does not know, lying on the floor near the unheated fireplace, from which the whole night smelled of sea freshness. Chang knows only one thing: that the captain will lie there for at least an hour. Chang, looking at the captain out of the corner of his eye, closes his eyes again and dozes off again. Chang is also a drunkard, he is also cloudy in the mornings, weak and feels the world with that languid disgust, which is so familiar to all sailors on ships and suffering from seasickness. And therefore, dozing off at this morning hour, Chang sees a weary, boring dream... He sees: An old, sour-eyed Chinese went up on the deck of the steamer, sank down on the bark, began to whine, begging everyone passing by to buy from him a skewer of rotten fish, which he had brought with him. It was a dusty and cold day on the wide Chinese river. In a boat under a reed sail, swaying on the river turbidity, sat a puppy - a red dog, which had something fox and wolf in itself, with thick coarse fur around its neck - sternly and intelligently led its black eyes along the high iron wall of the ship's side and held up its ears. - Sell your dog! the young captain of the steamer, who was standing idle on his tower, shouted merrily and loudly, as if to a deaf man, to the Chinese. The Chinese, the first owner of Chang, looked up, was dumbfounded both by shouting and with joy, began to bow and click: “Ve" y good dog, ve "y good!” - And they bought a puppy - just for a ruble, - they called it Chang, and he sailed the same day with his new owner to Russia and at first, for three whole weeks, he was so tormented by seasickness, was in such a dope that he didn’t even see anything: neither the ocean, nor Singapore, nor Colombo ... In China, autumn began, the weather was difficult. And it began to trouble Chang, as soon as they reached the mouth. Towards it was raining, mist, lambs sparkling across the water plain, swaying, running, splashing gray-green swell, sharp and stupid, and the flat shores diverged, lost in the fog - and more and more water became around. Chang, in his coat silvered from the rain, and the captain, in a waterproof coat with a raised hood, were on the bridge, the height of which was now even stronger than before. The captain commanded, and Chang trembled and turned up his muzzle from the wind. The water expanded, engulfing the stormy horizons, mingling with the hazy sky. The wind tore spray from a large noisy swell, flew in from anywhere, whistled in the yards and loudly slammed the canvas awnings below, while the sailors, in forged boots and wet capes, untied, caught and rolled them up. The wind was looking for a stronger blow, and as soon as the steamer, slowly bowing to it, took a sharp turn to the right, lifted it up with such a large, seething shaft that it could not resist, collapsed from the roll of the shaft, burrowing into the foam, and in the navigational cabin with a rattle and clang a coffee cup, forgotten on the table by the footman, flew to the floor ... And from that moment the music started! Then there were all sorts of days: either the sun burned with fire from the shining azure, then clouds piled up like mountains and rolled with terrifying thunder, then violent downpours fell on the ship and on the sea like floods; but it pumped, pumped continuously, even during stops. Completely exhausted, not once in the whole three weeks did Chang leave his corner in the hot, semi-dark corridor among the empty second-class cabins, on the poop, near the high threshold of the door to the deck, which opened only once a day, when the captain's orderly brought food to Chang. And from the entire journey to the Red Sea, only the heavy creaking of bulkheads, faintness and a sinking heart, now flying along with a trembling stern somewhere into the abyss, then ascending into the sky, and prickly, mortal horror, when against this highly raised and suddenly again falling to the side of the stern, roaring a propeller in the air, with a cannon shot, an entire water mountain, extinguishing the day, remained in Chang’s memory. light in the portholes and then flowing down their thick panes in muddy streams. Sick Chang heard distant shouts of command, the boatswain's rattling whistles, the tramp of sailors' feet somewhere above his head, heard the splashing and noise of water, distinguished with half-closed eyes a dim corridor cluttered with matting bales of tea - and went crazy, drunk from nausea, heat and a strong tea smell ... But here Chang's dream ends. Chang shudders and opens his eyes: it was no longer a wave that hit the stern - it was a door slammed somewhere below, thrown with a swing by someone. And after this, the captain clears his throat loudly and slowly rises from his depressed bed. He pulls on his feet and laces up his broken shoes, puts on a black coat with gold buttons taken out from under the pillow, and goes to the chest of drawers, while Chang, in his red shabby fur coat, yawns discontentedly, yawns with a screech, having risen from the floor. On the chest of drawers is a bottle of vodka. The captain drinks straight from the bottle and, slightly suffocating and puffing into his mustache, goes to the fireplace, pours vodka into a bowl standing next to him, and for Chang. Chang begins to lap up greedily. And the captain lights a cigarette and lies down again - to wait for the hour when he is completely refreshed. The distant rumble of the tram is already heard, the continuous clatter of hooves on the pavement is already pouring far below, on the street, but it is still too early to get out. And the captain lies and smokes. Having finished lapping, Chang also lies down. He jumps onto the bed, curls up at the captain's feet, and slowly floats into that blissful state that vodka always gives. His half-closed eyes dim, he looks weakly at his master, and, feeling an ever-increasing tenderness for him, he thinks what can be humanly expressed like this: “Ah, stupid, stupid! There is only one truth in the world, and if you only knew what a wonderful truth it is!” And again, Chang is dreaming or thinking that distant morning, when, after a painful, restless ocean, a steamer entered the Red Sea, sailing from China with a captain and Chang ... He dreams: Passing Perim, more and more slowly, as if cradling, the steamer swung, and Chang fell into a sweet and deep sleep. And suddenly woke up. And, waking up, he was astounded beyond all measure: it was quiet everywhere, trembling evenly and food did not fall anywhere, the water ran evenly behind the walls, the warm smell of the kitchen, pulling from under the door to the deck, was charming... eerily joyful - there, into the sunny-blue emptiness, into space, into the air, the rear windows were open, and meandering mirrored streams streamed, flowed and did not flow along the low ceiling. And the same thing happened to Chang that happened more than once in those days to his master, the captain: he suddenly realized that there is not one, but two truths in the world - one is that living in the world and swimming is terrible, and the other ... the engine room, the captain, washed out and shaved, fragrant with the freshness of cologne, with a German-style fair-haired mustache, with a shining look of sharp-sighted bright eyes, in everything tight and snow-white. And, seeing all this, Chang rushed forward so joyfully that the captain caught him on the fly, kissed him on the head and, turning back, jumped out in three leaps, in his arms with him, to the spardeck, to the upper deck, and from there even higher, to the very bridge where it was so terrible at the mouth of the great Chinese river. On the bridge, the captain entered the pilothouse, and Chang, thrown on the floor, sat for a while, fluffing his fox tail over the smooth boards like a pipe. Behind Chang it was very hot and light from the low sun. It must have been hot in Arabia, too, passing close to the right with its golden coastline and its black-brown mountains, its peaks, like the mountains of a dead planet, also deeply covered with dry gold - all its sandy-mountainous desert, visible unusually clearly, so that it seemed one could jump over it. And upstairs, on the bridge, one could still feel the morning, it still smelt of light freshness, and the captain’s assistant was briskly walking back and forth, the same one who later so often drove Chang into a frenzy by blowing his nose, a man in white clothes, in a white helmet and terrible black glasses, who kept looking at the celestial tip of the forward mast, above which the thinnest cloud curled with a white ostrich feather ... Then the captain screamed zero from the cabin: “Chang! Drink coffee! And Chang immediately jumped up, ran around the wheelhouse and deftly signaled over its copper threshold. And beyond the threshold it turned out to be even better than on the bridge: there was a wide leather sofa attached to the wall, over it hung some shiny glass and arrows like a round wall clock, and on the floor stood a slop bowl with a slop of sweet milk and bread. Chang began to lap up greedily, and the captain got down to business: he unrolled a large nautical chart on a stand that was placed under the window opposite the sofa, and, placing a ruler on it, firmly cut a long strip with scarlet ink. Chang, having finished lapping, with milk on his mustache, jumped up and sat down on the counter near the very window, behind which the spacious shirt of a sailor stood with his back to the window in front of a wheel with horns, blue with a turn-down collar. And then the captain, who, as it turned out later, was very fond of talking, being alone with Chang, said to Chang: “You see, brother, this is the Red Sea. You and I need to go through it smarter - look how colorful it is from islets and reefs - I need to deliver you to Odessa in complete safety, because they already know about your existence there. I already blabbed about you to one capricious girl, boasted to her of your mercy on such, you know, a long rope that was laid smart people at the bottom of all the seas-oceans ... I, Chang, still terrible happy man so happy that you can’t even imagine, and therefore I really don’t want to run into any of these reefs, shame myself to the ninth button on my first long-distance flight ... And, speaking thus, the captain suddenly looked sternly at Chang and gave him a slap in the face: “Paws off the map!” he shouted commandingly. - Don't you dare climb on the government property! And Chang, shaking his head, growled and closed his eyes. This was the first slap in the face he received, and he was offended, it again seemed to him that it was bad to live in the world and swim. He turned away, extinguishing and shrinking his transparent bright eyes, and bared his wolf teeth with a low growl. But the captain did not attach any importance to his offense. He lit a cigarette and returned to the sofa, took out a gold watch from the side pocket of his pique jacket, pried off its lids with a strong fingernail, and, looking at something radiant, extraordinarily lively, hurriedly running loudly inside the watch, spoke again in a friendly manner. He again began to tell Chang that he was taking him to Odessa, to Elisavetinskaya Street, that on Elisavetinskaya Street he, the captain, had, firstly, an apartment, secondly, a beautiful wife and, thirdly, a wonderful daughter, and that he, the captain, was still a very happy person. - Still, Chang, happy! said the captain, and then added: “That daughter, Chang, is a frisky, curious, persistent girl—it will be bad for you at times, especially for your tail!” But if you knew, Chang, what a lovely creature this is! I, brother, love her so much that I am even afraid of my own love: for me the whole world is only in her—well, let’s say, almost in her—but is it supposed to be like that? And anyway, should anyone love so much? - he asked. “Are all these Buddhas of yours more stupid than you and me, but listen to what they say about this love for the world and for everything bodily in general — from sunlight, from waves, from air to women, to children, to the smell of white acacia!” Or: do you know what Tao is, invented by you, the Chinese? I, brother, do not know it well myself, and everyone knows this poorly, but as far as one can understand, what is it? The Abyss-Foremother, it also gives birth and absorbs and, absorbing, again gives birth to everything that exists in the world, in other words, that Path of all that exists, which nothing that exists should resist. But we are constantly resisting it, constantly wanting to turn not only, say, the soul of the woman we love, but the whole world in our own way! It’s a terrible life in the world, Chang,” said the captain, “it’s very good, but it’s terrible, and especially for people like me!” I am very greedy for happiness and very often I go astray: is this Path dark and evil, or is it completely, quite the opposite? And after a pause he added: - What is the main thing? When you love someone, no one will force you to believe that the one you love can not love you. And here, Chang, the dog is buried. And how wonderful life is, my God, how wonderful! Incandescent by the sun that had already risen high and slightly trembling on the run, the steamer tirelessly cut through the Red Sea, which was calm in the abyss of sultry air space. The bright emptiness of the tropical sky peered through the cabin door. It was nearing noon, and the copper threshold was still burning in the sun. The vitreous shafts rolled more and more slowly overboard, flashing with a dazzling brilliance and illuminating the wheelhouse. Chang sat on the couch, listening to the captain. The captain, who was stroking Chang's head, pushed him to the floor - "no, brother, it's hot!" he said, “but this time Chang was not offended: it was too good to live in the world on this joyful afternoon. And then... But here again Chang's dream is interrupted. - Chang, let's go! says the captain, kicking his legs off the bed. And again Chang sees with surprise that he is not on a steamer in the Red Sea, but in an attic in Odessa, and that it is really noon outside, only not joyful, but dark, boring, hostile. And quietly growls at the captain who disturbed him. But the captain, paying no attention to him, puts on an old uniform cap and a coat of the same kind, and, thrusting his hands into his pockets and hunching over, goes to the door. Involuntarily, Chang also has to jump out of bed. The captain descends the stairs heavily and reluctantly, as if from tedious necessity. Chang rolls rather quickly: he is invigorated by the irritation that has not yet subsided, with which the blissful state after vodka always ends ... Yes, for two years now, day after day, Chang and the captain have been going to restaurants. There they drink, eat, look at other drunkards drinking and eating next to them, among the noise, tobacco smoke and all kinds of stench. Chang lies at the captain's feet, on the floor. And the captain sits and smokes, putting his elbows firmly on the table, according to his marine habit, waiting for the hour when, according to some law he himself invented, he will have to migrate to another restaurant or coffee shop: Chang and the captain have breakfast in one place, drink coffee in another, dine in a third, dine in a fourth. Usually the captain is silent. But it happens that the captain meets one of his former friends and then all day long he talks incessantly about the insignificance of life and every minute treats himself, then his interlocutor, then Chang, in front of whom there is always some kind of vessel on the floor. That is how they will spend the present day: today they have agreed to have breakfast with an old friend of the captain, with an artist in a top hat. And this means that they will first sit in a stinking beer hall, among red-faced Germans - stupid, efficient people, working from morning to evening with the aim, of course, to drink, eat, work again and breed their own kind - then they will go to a coffee house chock-full of Greeks and Jews, whose whole life, also meaningless, but very disturbing, is absorbed in the incessant expectation of stock exchange rumors, and from the coffee house they will go to a restaurant, where all human filth flocks - and they will sit there until late at night ... The winter day is short, and over a bottle of wine, over a conversation with a friend, it is even shorter. And now Chang, the captain and the artist, have already been to the pub and the coffee house, and they sit endlessly, drink in the restaurant. And again the captain, resting his elbows on the table, fervently assures the artist that there is only one truth in the world - evil and base. “Look around you,” he says, “just remember all those that you and I see every day in a pub, in a coffee shop, on the street!” My friend, I have seen the whole globe - life is like this everywhere! All this is a lie and nonsense, how people seem to live: they have no god, no conscience, no reasonable goal of existence, no love, no friendship, no honesty - there is not even a simple pity. Life is a boring, winter day in a dirty tavern, nothing more... And Chang, lying under the table, listens to all this in a haze of hops, in which there is no longer any excitement. Does he agree or disagree with the captain? There is no definite answer to this, but since it is impossible, it means that things are bad. Chang doesn't know, doesn't understand if the captain is right; why, we all say “I don’t know, I don’t understand” only in sadness; everything in joy Living being it is sure that it knows everything, understands everything... But suddenly, as if sunlight cuts through this fog: suddenly there is a tap of a stick on the music stand on the stage of the restaurant - and a violin sings, followed by another, a third ... They sing more and more passionately, all louder, - and in a minute Chang's soul is filled with a completely different longing, a completely different sadness. She trembles with an incomprehensible delight, from some kind of sweet flour, from a thirst for something, and she no longer makes out Chang whether he is in a dream or in reality. He devotes himself to music with all his being, dutifully follows it into some other world - and again sees himself on the threshold of this beautiful world, an unreasonable, gullible puppy on a ship in the Red Sea ... — Yes, so how was it? - not that he dreams, not that he thinks. - Yes, I remember: it was good to live on a hot afternoon in the Red Sea! Chang and the captain sat in the wheelhouse, then stood on the bridge... Oh, how much light, shine, blue, azure! How amazingly flowery were all those white, red and yellow shirts of sailors against the background of the sky, with outstretched arms hanging on the bow! And then Chang, with the captain and the other sailors, whose faces were brick, their eyes oily, and their foreheads white and sweaty, breakfasted in the hot first-class wardroom, under the buzzing and blowing electric fan from the corner, after breakfast took a short nap, dined after tea, and after dinner again sat upstairs, in front of the chart house, where the footman had placed a canvas chair for the captain, and looked far beyond the sea, at the sunset, gently green enveloping in multi-colored and various clouds, at the wine-red sun, devoid of rays, which, touching the muddy horizon, suddenly stretched out and became like a dark fiery miter... hot coal, it trembled and went out, and as soon as it went out, the shadow of some kind of sadness immediately fell over the whole world, and the wind, which grew stronger towards night, became more and more agitated. The captain, looking at the dark flames of the sunset, sat with his head open, his hair swaying in the wind, and his face was thoughtful, proud and sad, and it was felt that after all he is happy, and that not only this whole steamer running at his will, but the whole world is in his power, because the whole world was in his soul at that moment - and also because even then he already smelled of wine ... The night has come, terrible and magnificent. She was black, alarming, with a chaotic wind and with such a full light of the waves rushing noisily around the ship that sometimes Chang, who ran after the captain who quickly and ceaselessly walked along the deck, jumped off the side with a screech. And the captain again took Chang in his arms and, putting his cheek to his beating heart - after all, it was beating exactly the same as the captain's! - came with him to the very end of the deck, on the poop, and stood there for a long time in the darkness, enchanting Chang with a wondrous and terrible sight: from under the high, huge stern, from under the muffled roaring propeller, with a dry rustle, myriads of white-fire needles fell, burst out and immediately flew away into the snowy sparkling road paved by the steamer, then huge blue stars, then some kind of tight with other clubs that burst brightly and, fading away, mysteriously smoked inside the boiling water mounds with pale green phosphorus. The wind from different directions strongly and softly beat from the darkness into Chang's muzzle, swelled and cooled the thick fur on his chest, and, firmly, kindly clinging to the captain, Chang smelled the smell of cold sulfur, breathed an exploding womb sea depths, and the stern trembled, it was lowered and raised by some great and unspeakably free force, and it swayed, swayed, excitedly contemplating this blind and dark, but a hundredfold living, deafly rebellious Abyss. And sometimes some particularly stray and heavy wave, noisily flying past the stern, eerily illuminated the hands and silver clothes of the captain ... That night the captain took Chang to his cabin, large and comfortable, softly lit by a lamp under a red silk shade. On the writing-table, tightly fitting near the captain's bed, stood, in the shadow and light of the lamp, two photographic portraits: a pretty, angry girl in curls, who sat capriciously and at ease in a deep armchair, and a young lady depicted almost to her full height, with a white lace umbrella on her shoulder, in a big lace hat and in a smart spring dress - slender, thin, charming and sad, like a Georgian princess. And the captain said, to the sound of black waves behind open window: “Chang, this woman will not love you and me!” There are, brother, female souls who are eternally languishing with some kind of sad thirst for love, and who, for this reason, never love anyone. There are such - and how to judge them for all their heartlessness, deceit, dreams of a stage, of their own car, of picnics on yachts, of some athlete tearing his hair from a fixator into a straight row? Who will solve them? To each his own, Chang, and don't they follow the most secret commands of the Thao, as some sea creature follows them, freely walking in these black, fiery-armored waves? - Wow! said the captain, sitting down on a chair, shaking his head and untying the laces of his white shoe. “What happened to me, Chang, when for the first time I felt that she was no longer completely mine — that night when she was alone for the first time at the yacht club ball and returned in the morning, like a faded rose, pale with fatigue and excitement that has not yet subsided, with eyes completely dark, wide and so far from me! If you knew how inimitably she wanted to fool me, with what simple surprise she asked: “Are you still awake, poor guy?” Here I could not even utter a word, and she immediately understood me and fell silent - she only glanced at me quickly - and silently began to undress. I wanted to kill her, but she said dryly and calmly: “Help me unbutton the back of my dress,” and I dutifully approached and began to unfasten these hooks and buttons with trembling hands, and as soon as I saw her body in the open dress, her between the shoulders and the shirt, lowered from her shoulders and tucked behind the corset, as soon as I heard the smell of her black hair and looked into the illuminated dressing table, reflecting her breasts raised by the corset ... And without finishing, the captain waved his hand. He undressed, lay down and put out the fire, and Chang, turning over and laying down in a morocco chair near the desk, saw how flashing and dying streaks of white flame furrowed the black shroud of the sea, how some kind of lights flickered ominously along the black horizon, how sometimes a terrible living wave came running from there and with a menacing noise grew above the side and looked into the cabin - a kind of fabulous a serpent, shining through and through with gem-colored eyes, transparent emeralds and sapphires, and like a steamboat pushed her away and ran smoothly on, among the heavy and unsteady masses of this pre-temporal, for us already alien and hostile nature, called the ocean ... During the night, the captain suddenly shouted something and, frightened himself by his own cry, which sounded like some kind of humiliating, plaintive passion, immediately woke up. After lying silent for a moment, he sighed and said with a grin: - Yes Yes! "The golden ring in the pig's nostril is a beautiful woman!" You are thrice right, Solomon the Wise! He found a cigarette in the dark, lit a cigarette, but, after taking two puffs, dropped his hand, and fell asleep with the red flame of the cigarette in his hand. And again it became quiet - only sparkling, swaying and noisily rushing waves past the side. Southern Cross due to black clouds... But then Chang is suddenly deafened by a thunderous roar. Chang jumps up in horror. What's happened? Again, due to the fault of the drunken captain, the steamer hit the pitfalls, as it happened three years ago? Did the captain fire a pistol again at his lovely and sad wife? No, it’s not night, not the sea, and not a winter afternoon on Elisavetinskaya, but a very bright restaurant full of noise and smoke: it’s the drunken captain who hit the table with his fist and shouts to the artist: - Nonsense, nonsense! Golden ring in the pig's nostril, that's who your woman is! “I cleaned my bed with carpets, Egyptian multi-colored fabrics: let's go in, we will revel in tenderness, because my husband is not at home ...” Ah, woman! "Her house leads to death and her paths to the dead..." But enough, enough, my friend. It's time, lock up - let's go! And a minute later the captain, Chang and the artist were already on a dark street, where the wind and snow were blowing out the lanterns. The captain kisses the artist and they part ways. Chang, half-asleep, gloomy, sideways runs along the pavement after the fast-paced and staggering captain... The day has passed again—dream or reality? - and again in the world darkness, cold, fatigue ... So, the days and nights of Chang pass monotonously. Suddenly, one morning, the world, like a steamship, runs into an underwater reef hidden from inattentive eyes. Waking up one winter morning, Chang is struck by the great silence that reigns in the room. He quickly jumps up from his seat, rushes to the captain's bed - and sees that the captain is lying with his head thrown back, with a pale and frozen face, with half-open and motionless eyelashes. And, seeing these eyelashes, Chang utters such a desperate cry, as if he had been knocked down and caught in half by a car speeding along the boulevard... Then, when the door of the room does not stand on its heels, when they enter, leave and come again, talking loudly, all kinds of people - janitors, policemen, an artist in a top hat and all sorts of other gentlemen with whom the captain sat in restaurants - Chang seems to turn to stone ... Oh, how terribly the captain once said: “On that day those who guard the house will tremble and those who look out the window will be darkened; and heights will be terrible to them, and horrors on the road: for a man departs to his eternal home, and mourners are ready to surround him; for the jug at the spring was broken and the wheel over the well collapsed...” But now Chang does not even feel horror. He lies on the floor, his muzzle in the corner, tightly closing his eyes so as not to see the world, to forget about him. And the world rustles over him dull and distant, like the sea over one who sinks deeper and deeper into its abyss. And again he comes to his senses already on the porch, at the door of the church. He sits beside them with his head bowed, dull, half-dead, only trembling all over. And suddenly the door of the church swings open - and a marvelous, all sounding and singing picture strikes Chiang's eyes and heart: in front of Chiang there is a dim Gothic hall, red stars of lights, a whole forest tropical plants, an oak coffin raised high on a black platform, a black crowd of people, two marvelous women in their marble beauty and deep mourning - like two sisters of different ages - and above all this - a rumble, thunders, a clergy of angels loudly crying out about some kind of mournful joy, triumph, confusion, greatness - and unearthly hymns covering everything. And all the hair on Chang stands on end from pain and delight in front of this sounding vision. And the artist, who with red eyes came out of the church at that moment, stops in amazement. — Chang! he says anxiously, leaning towards Chang. "Chang, what's wrong with you?" And, touching Chang's head with a trembling hand, he leans even lower - and their eyes, full of tears, meet in such love for each other that Chang's whole being silently shouts to the whole world: oh, no, no - there is still some third truth on earth, unknown to me! On this day, returning from the cemetery, Chang moves to the house of his third owner - again on the tower, in the attic, but warm, fragrant with a cigar, carpeted, lined with antique furniture, hung with huge paintings and brocade fabrics ... It is getting dark, the fireplace is full of red-hot, gloomy scarlet heaps of heat, the new owner of Chang is sitting in an armchair. Returning home, he did not even take off his coat and top hat, sat down with a cigar in a deep armchair and smokes, looks into the twilight of his workshop. And Chang is lying on the carpet near the fireplace, his eyes closed, his muzzle resting on his paws. Someone is also lying now - there, behind the darkening city, behind the fence of the cemetery, in what is called a crypt, a grave. But that someone is not the captain, no. If Chang loves and feels the captain, sees him with the eyes of memory, that divine that no one understands, then the captain is still with him; in that beginningless and endless world that is not accessible to Death. In this world there should be only one truth, the third one, and what it is, that last Master knows about it, to whom Chang should soon return. Vasilevskoe. 1916