About the story. This work shows the life and morals of the noble society of that time.
What was the beginning of Ivan Vasilyevich’s story
The girl was beautiful and slender. Tall, stately. There was a sense of breed about her. He couldn't help but notice her. All the women and men admired her. She floated around the hall in a pink and white dress. Brown eyes looked with tenderness. When she smiled, dimples appeared on her rosy cheeks.
It was love, but not physical. He did not dream of possessing her as a woman. Varenka was unattainable, like a goddess. As a sign of sympathy, the girl gave him a feather from a fan, which she fanned herself with all evening.
Daughter and father dance
The next dance Varenka danced with her father. This was an elderly man. Colonel. Handsome, stately. The military man's face was adorned with a gorgeous mustache. The couple circled the hall, attracting everyone's attention. Ivan drew attention to the colonel’s boots: old, worn to holes. He realized that the father spent all his money on his only daughter, forgetting about himself. Ivan was floating in the clouds. He was happy. All thoughts were about my beloved. Returning home, the guy could not sleep for a long time, turning over the events of the past day in his head.
The massacre of a soldier or the true face of Varenka’s father
Insomnia completely exhausted Ivan. He decided to take a walk around the city at night. The legs themselves led to Varenka’s house. Music was playing in the courtyard of the house. The sounds of the flute intertwined with the drumming. A loud, unpleasant melody that irritated the ears. The guy sees soldiers driving a Tatar through the line, beating him with sticks. The parade was commanded by a colonel, Varenka's father. He was terrible in anger. The face is twisted with hatred. Noticing Ivan, the colonel pretended that he did not know him and turned away.
Epilogue
Ivan could not move away from what he saw. The scene of the beating was before my eyes. He didn't understand why everyone was silent. Is it really right to torture a person half to death? Ivan was never able to find an excuse for the colonel’s cruelty. Now the guy knew one thing clearly: he wouldn’t set foot in military service. Love for Varenka began to wane along with this episode. This is how a person’s life turned upside down overnight, changing plans and sending him along a different path.
The main characters of the story:
Ivan Vasilievich– a storyteller who shares the story of his greatest love and what caused its sudden demise. A person who is not indifferent to beauty, who wants to see good traits in his neighbor, but who cannot tolerate violence against the individual. He is disgusted by the oppression of poor, unfortunate people. Pity for the mutilated soldier, albeit a guilty one, who continues to be inhumanly mocked, despite pleas, without showing any mercy, leads the hero into a state of despair, even to the point that he decides to get drunk with a friend until he passes out. The young man is especially struck by the fact that the execution process is led by a colonel, the father of his beloved Varenka. After this, he decides never to be a military man, although at first he wanted it.
Varenka- daughter of Colonel Pyotr Vladislavovich, bride of Ivan Vasilyevich, the object of his great love. A very beautiful, graceful girl with a gentle look.
Varenka's father, Colonel Pyotr Vladislavovich- at first he made a good impression on Ivan Vasilyevich, such that he even experienced an “enthusiastic and tender” feeling towards him.
However, the charm dissipated when the narrator saw the colonel leading the process of beating the guilty Tatar fugitive, whom, on the orders of Pyotr Vladislavovich, every soldier in the ranks beat with sticks. No pity, no compassion, only cruelty and anger - this is how Varenka’s father actually turned out.
Beginning of the story: Ivan Vasilyevich expresses his opinion
In one house there was a leisurely conversation, the essence of which was that human behavior in most cases is influenced by the external environment. Ivan Vasilyevich categorically disagreed with this, and, deciding to prove he was right, he began to tell a story that happened to him one day.
Love for Varenka
“I was very much in love” - this is how Ivan Vasilyevich begins a sad story about an episode of his life. The object of his affection turned out to be Varenka, the daughter of Colonel Pyotr Vladislavovich, a very beautiful girl - at eighteen years old, graceful and even majestic. A gentle smile never left her face, and this captivated Ivan Vasilyevich even more. He himself characterizes himself as a rich young man, fond of balls and enjoying life. And then one day, on the last day of Maslenitsa, he had the opportunity to go to a ball with the governor’s leader.
At the ball…
Everything was wonderful that day: the narrator danced only with Varenka. “I was not only cheerful and contented, I was happy, blissful, I was kind, I was not me, but some unearthly creature who knows no evil and is capable of only good...” - this is how Ivan Vasilyevich describes his state. Love for the colonel's daughter grew more and more in his soul. After dinner, the hostess persuaded Pyotr Vladislavovich to go through one round of the mazurka with her daughter, and everyone was delighted with this couple.
The hero was happy, and was afraid of only one thing: that something would darken the bright joy that reigned in his soul. Unfortunately, very soon his fears came true. 
“My whole life changed from one night...”
Arriving home after the ball, Ivan Vasilyevich was so excited that he could not fall asleep. Little did he know then that in a few minutes he would make a decision that would turn out to be fateful. And it seemed like nothing special - driven by insomnia, the young man in love decided to walk around the city early in the morning. If only he knew what this innocent walk would lead to. The young man's soul was filled with beautiful music, to which he danced at the ball, but suddenly completely different sounds were heard: harsh, bad.
As he approached, he saw a terrible picture: walking towards him was “a man naked to the waist, tied to the guns of two soldiers who were leading him.”
It was a captured deserter who was led through the line, and each soldier was obliged to hit the fugitive. Sometimes human cruelty knows no bounds, and the author tried to convey this in bright colors.
Disappointment in Varenka's father
The terrible sight was forever imprinted in the consciousness of Ivan Vasilyevich, who just a few hours ago considered the colonel to be a rather nice person. Now he was cruel, merciless, terrible. “Will you smear it, will you?!” - Pyotr Vladislavovich shouted at the soldier who did not hit the deserter hard enough... No one listened to the quiet request of the poor sufferer, who barely whispered: “Brothers, have mercy.” And Ivan’s pleasant feelings towards Varenka’s father instantly disappeared, leaving room for bitter surprise, disappointment, even shock. It’s no wonder that the young man got drunk that morning with a friend.
"Love has come to naught..."
From then on, Ivan Vasilyevich could no longer relate to Varya as before. Every time he met her, he remembered the colonel in the square. And love gradually melted away.
“So this is why a person’s fate can change,” the narrator concluded. Alas, to our greatest regret, this also happens.
The author’s intention when creating the story “After the Ball”
Inhumane treatment of people, unfortunately, was the norm in those days. And this was clearly understood by Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy, who, although he was a count, sympathized with the suffering people with all his soul.
Throughout the story, the author gives the reader a reason to reflect on the question: what makes a person cruel or, conversely, kind? The environment where he lives? Or is it something else? But can there be a clear answer to such a complex question? And what is the opinion of the author himself?
The position of Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy: on the side of moral principles
Throughout his life, Leo Tolstoy experienced torment from the fact that a person lives like an atheist, and this cannot but affect his behavior and views. The oppression of the poor by the rich, the obvious vices of the nobility and those who managed to occupy some position in society - everything led the writer into a confusion of feelings. Having an amazing gift for putting thoughts into words, Lev Nikolaevich became the author of novels, novellas, and short stories that reflect the essence of his experiences. He was convinced that man, despite all the evil, retains some “higher intelligence” endowed by the Creator. But is it? Trying to fulfill the Christian commandments, Leo Tolstoy did not realize the main thing: the whole world lies in evil, and vice cannot be defeated by one’s own efforts. This simply requires the power of God.
Reviews of the story “After the Ball”
After reading the story “After the Ball,” I was a little shocked by the events that happened there. Poor soldier who was subjected to such cruel execution! What happened to him next? Was he really beaten to death? Why can’t a person’s heart have compassion, condescension, pity? I find the answer to some of these questions in the Bible: “The heart of man is evil always.” Unfortunately, Lev Nikolaevich did not come to terms with this conclusion of the Holy Scripture, but looked for his own ways to solve the problem, in particular, through self-improvement. Alas, this was the wrong position.”
“One can talk a lot about the theme of cruelty, evil, oppression of the weak, which was raised in Leo Tolstoy’s story “After the Ball.” However, one thing is clear: not a single author could offer a clear solution to the problem, because a person who does not place his hope in the Creator, who does not accept His laws, will not be able to change only through the implementation of the moral code or the Sermon on the Mount of Jesus Christ. Here is what the very famous evangelical preacher Ivan Stepanovich Prokhanov wrote about this, who came to Yasnaya Polyana with believing friends to personally meet Lev Nikolaevich and talk with him: “Of course, we could not convince Tolstoy to change his mind. Likewise, he could not change our beliefs and our faith.
After talking with Tolstoy, I became even more convinced that the salvation of the world lies in the simple Gospel. Not in part of the Gospel, not even in most of the Gospel, but in a clearer interpretation of the whole Gospel...” Only in this is the real truth!
Leo Tolstoy is a writer of world significance. For example, the writer’s works have repeatedly become the basis for cinematic adaptations. Tolstoy's literary heritage inspired the Italian directors brothers Paolo and Vittorio Taviani, who in 1990 shot the film “And the Light Shines in the Darkness”, and in 2001 - “Resurrection”. Both films are an attempt to comprehend the images and plots of Tolstoy’s works through the form of cinema.
“After the Ball” is a story that the writer wrote in 1903. However, the work reached readers only in 1911. Tolstoy was inspired by events that actually happened, so the story was based on an incident from the life of his brother Lev Nikolaevich. The author's brother fell in love with the daughter of one of the military commanders. The passion for the girl was strong, and the man intended to offer his chosen one his hand and heart. However, he did not do this because one day he saw how cruelly the girl’s father behaved towards the soldier. Therefore, it would be fair to say that Tolstoy writes a story at the intersection of two planes - philosophy (namely ethics) and literature, which here demonstrates the ability to reflect the moral principles of the author. “After the Ball” makes you think about universal human issues of life.
From the history of writing a story
This work is special not only because the story was published posthumously - in 1911 (the writer died in 1910). Also, the specificity of the text is literal realism. Tolstoy wrote “After the Ball,” so to speak, in hot pursuit. The plot is based on a situation from the life of Sergei Tolstoy (1826–1904), the author’s brother. By the way, Sergei was characterized as a witty, talented person, to whom success was easy.
Dear readers! We invite you to familiarize yourself with Leo Tolstoy’s novel “War and Peace,” which in the context of the epic embodies a set of traits associated with the Russian peasant, a simple peasant with his own philosophy.
It is noteworthy that the situation mentioned in the story occurred in Sergei’s young years. Then he shared his story with his brother. Varya, a charming, sweet girl, attracted Sergei’s attention.
Varya's father served as a military mayor. Tolstoy became seriously interested in the girl, and even intended to make Varya his bride. But the young man’s plans never came true.
The fact is that one day Sergei saw how brutally, with extraordinary cruelty, Varya’s father treated a fugitive soldier, a guilty man, much lower in rank.
The mayor viciously dealt with the soldier. This act made Sergei change his mind about entering into family ties with the girl’s father. The message of the story is that humanity is a universal dimension of human life, regardless of status and position.
Leo Tolstoy was struck by Sergei’s story, but the writer managed to put what he heard into literary form many years later, in fact, a year before his brother’s death. In addition, the title of the story was also in question. Tolstoy chose between several options, thinking of calling the work “Father and Daughter”, “The Story of the Ball and Through the Gauntlet”, or “And You Say...”. As a result, the writer settled on the “After the Ball” option.
The title of the story has a deep meaning. Life is ambiguous and contradictory. On the one hand, people live in palaces, dance in luxurious halls, dress in magnificent and rich outfits. Here hypocrisy rules the roost, manners turn into vulgarity, and people lose their humanity. On the other hand, there is the wrong side of life - external grandeur and luxury hide unjustifiably cruel actions and brutal treatment of lower-ranking people, the fossilization of the human heart and the lack of compassion and empathy. The writer wants to show that not all people are able to accept the fact of such ambivalence in life.
Problems of Leo Tolstoy's story
“After the Ball” is filled with philosophical meaning. Tolstoy brought to the fore ethical problems, the situation prevailing on the moral plane. In the work, the writer asks questions about honor, morality, dignity, decency and justice. Moreover, this problem is characteristic not only of the society of imperial Russia, but also of the world as a whole.
The morally ambiguous image of the colonel
At the center is a moral conflict, which is revealed through an appeal to the ambivalence of the figure of the colonel. The hero's appearance is certainly beautiful. The Colonel is depicted as a stately, attractive man, mature, however, at the same time, surprisingly youthful.
The colonel has a pleasant appearance and the strict bearing of a military servant. Aristocratic features and impeccable manners are complemented by a voice that you want to listen to and a beautifully delivered speech. Tolstoy introduces the colonel during the ball: the hero’s demeanor is fascinating, it seems that this man is capable of winning the favor of any guest.
After the ball, after the night, morning comes. In the morning, the colonel demonstrates a completely different side of his personality. During the performance of official duties, the hero shows cruelty and menacing character. Punishing the fugitive soldier, the colonel knows no mercy. The transformation, the duality of the colonel’s nature struck the young man, who was about to get engaged to the daughter of this formidable man. The young man watches the execution of the fugitive: this leads to irrevocable changes in the worldview of the young hero. In the eyes of the young man, the evil living inside the colonel will come into contact with him if he marries Vara. Although the girl is sweet and does not show signs of an equally cruel character, personal happiness and evil still turn out to be disproportionate for the young man. These things cannot exist side by side.
Behind the situation described by Tolstoy lies a philosophical meaning: society demonstrates external complacency, which, however, is accompanied by an unpleasant “lining” of falsehood, hypocrisy, loss of human qualities, and inability to sympathize and sympathize. The author does not take a naive position: Lev Nikolaevich concludes that these unspoken rules that reign in society, this situation cannot be changed. But even if transformations are impossible, then the duty of a person (as a conscious person) is to make a moral choice between good and evil.
Compositional and stylistic features of the story
The specificity of the composition “After the Ball” is the presence of an antithesis, that is, the opposition of the ball and the subsequent morning execution of the soldier. The genre of Tolstoy's work was defined above - it is a story. The direction in which the text is written is characterized as realism. In fact, there are not many works in literature whose narrative unfolds over the course of just one day. Among the texts that come to mind first are James Joyce's Ulysses and Oscar Wilde's An Ideal Husband.
"After the Ball" also describes the events that take place on the eve of the soldier's execution - during the dance evening, and what happened in the morning. Literary critics say that Tolstoy seemed to put “a story within a story,” including a story that the reader learns as if from the lips of a young man, and a general description of the ball. Therefore, the composition of the story includes, respectively, an exposition (presented in the form of a dialogue-summary to the main events of the work), a plot (a ball), a climax (the execution of a fugitive), and a denouement (in the form of a philosophical, ethical conclusion made by a young man). “A story within a story” allowed Tolstoy to describe two historical periods at once: the youth of the character, whose prototype was Sergei (1840s), and the end of the 19th century.
Dear lovers of the classics! We suggest you read it chapter by chapter.
Antithesis - Tolstoy's central artistic device here - is presented in two variations. The reader sees the first instance of such a contrast when he encounters a description of the circumstances - a ball in the evening and an execution in the morning. The second is in the personality of the colonel himself, who displays completely different traits at the ball and during the performance of his official duties.
Leo Tolstoy wrote After the Ball in 1903, but it was first published in 1911, after the death of the great Russian writer. The story is based on a true story that happened to the writer’s older brother, Sergei. While still a student, Lev Nikolaevich lived with his brothers in Kazan. His brother Sergei Nikolaevich was in love with Varvara, the daughter of the military mayor Andrei Petrovich Koreysha, and often came to visit them. But one day Sergei Nikolaevich saw how, under the leadership of Varya’s father, they beat a fugitive soldier. The whole picture shocked him so much that the young man’s desire to get married immediately disappeared. And now, in fact, you can take on summary"After the ball". So, several people are having small talk and thinking about everything.
"After the ball". Summary
Dear Ivan Vasilyevich was a great expert at all sorts of stories. And so, one day, being among his friends, he started a conversation about how a person cannot always understand what is good and what is bad, since in order to improve it is necessary to change his environment, they say, it eats a person. And he immediately added that in his situation, which he will talk about later, chance, not environment, played a big role in fate.
Ivan Vasilyevich describes two paintings. In the first one, everything is beautiful, happy and dressed up guests are dancing at a ball, having come to pay tribute to the provincial leader, whom the author describes as a very sweet and good-natured person who constantly took care of his daughter Varenka. The old man really treats her very carefully and even saved on himself for her sake. The summary of “After the Ball” notes that the “Mazurka” dance of father and daughter evokes deep emotion and admiration among the entire audience present at the ball. The festive atmosphere is complemented just before Lent by the last day of Maslenitsa.
Love
The summary of “After the Ball” further tells that the then very young Ivan was head over heels in love with the beautiful Varenka. He couldn't be without her for even a minute. Then, after the ball, he could not fall asleep for a long time and kept fiddling with the feather from the fan she had given him. However, the situation changes when he decides to take a walk in the fresh air. Varenka’s house was visible in the distance, and some strange music and noise were heard from there. Ivan decided to come closer and saw a cruel picture there. Under the leadership of Varenka’s father, a bloody massacre of soldiers with sticks takes place over a fugitive Tatar soldier, who was groaning and writhing in pain, and was already looking like something red, wet and unnatural.
Analysis of the work
A summary of Tolstoy’s “After the Ball” indicates that the writer in this work conveys his state before parting with formal faith, because he was anathematized because of his religious beliefs. The writer emphasizes that the execution takes place on Forgiveness Sunday. By this he emphasizes the completely unmerciful and unchristian character of society, since a Muslim is beaten. In this case, the Christian faith is taught in the form of violence to those of other faiths. Tolstoy wanted to see an ideal in many ways, and this is why he suffered all his life with his thoughts and desires. Humility and repentance were not a top priority for him in his Christian life, and he decided to choose his own path.
- So you say that a person cannot understand on his own what is good and what is bad, that it’s all about the environment, that the environment is corroding. And I think it's all a matter of chance. I'll tell you about myself. This is how the respected Ivan Vasilyevich spoke after a conversation between us, about the fact that for personal improvement it is necessary to first change the conditions among which people live. No one, in fact, said that you cannot understand for yourself what is good and what is bad, but Ivan Vasilyevich had such a manner of responding to his own thoughts that arose as a result of conversation and, on the occasion of these thoughts, telling episodes from his life. Often he completely forgot the reason for which he was telling, getting carried away by the story, especially since he told it very sincerely and truthfully. So he did now. - I’ll tell you about myself. My whole life turned out this way and not differently, not from the environment, but from something completely different. - From what? - we asked. - Yes, it’s a long story. To understand, you need to tell a lot. - So tell me. Ivan Vasilyevich thought for a moment and shook his head. “Yes,” he said. “My whole life changed from one night, or rather morning.” - What happened? - What happened was that I was very much in love. I fell in love many times, but this was my strongest love. It's a thing of the past; her daughters are already married. It was B..., yes, Varenka B...,” Ivan Vasilyevich said the last name. “She was a wonderful beauty even at fifty years old.” But in her youth, eighteen years old, she was lovely: tall, slender, graceful and majestic, just majestic. She always held herself unusually straight, as if she could not do otherwise, throwing her head back a little, and this gave her, with her beauty and tall stature, despite her thinness, even bonyness, a kind of regal appearance that would frighten away from her if would it not be for the affectionate, always cheerful smile of her mouth, and her lovely, sparkling eyes, and her entire sweet, young being. — What is it like for Ivan Vasilyevich to paint? “No matter how you describe it, it’s impossible to describe it in such a way that you understand what she was like.” But that’s not the point: what I want to tell you happened in the forties. At that time I was a student at a provincial university. I don’t know whether this is good or bad, but at that time at our university we didn’t have any circles, no theories, but we were just young and lived as is typical for youth: we studied and had fun. I was a very cheerful and lively fellow, and also rich. I had a dashing pacer, rode down the mountains with young ladies (skates were not yet in fashion), partied with friends (at that time we drank nothing but champagne; there was no money - we didn’t drink anything, but we didn’t drink like we do now , vodka). My main pleasure was evenings and balls. I danced well and was not ugly. “Well, there’s no need to be modest,” one of the interlocutors interrupted him. - We know your daguerreotype portrait. It’s not that you weren’t ugly, but you were handsome. - The handsome man is so handsome, but that’s not the point. But the fact is that during this, my strongest love for her, I was on the last day of Maslenitsa at a ball hosted by the provincial leader, a good-natured old man, a rich hospitable man and a chamberlain. He was received by his wife, who was as good-natured as he was, in a velvet puce dress, with a diamond feronniere on her head and with open old, plump, white shoulders and breasts, like portraits of Elizaveta Petrovna. The ball was wonderful: a beautiful hall, with choirs, musicians - famous at that time serfs of the amateur landowner, a magnificent buffet and a spilled sea of champagne. Although I was fond of champagne, I didn’t drink, because without wine I was drunk with love, but I danced until I dropped - I danced quadrilles, waltzes, and polkas, of course, as far as possible, all with Varenka. She was wearing a white dress with a pink belt and white kid gloves that did not reach her thin, sharp elbows, and white satin shoes. The Mazurka was taken away from me: the disgusting engineer Anisimov - I still can’t forgive him for this - invited her, she just came in, and I stopped by the hairdresser and for gloves and was late. So I danced the mazurka not with her, but with a German girl whom I had courted a little before. But, I’m afraid, that evening I was very discourteous with her, did not look at her, but saw only a tall, slender figure in a white dress with a pink belt, her radiant, flushed face with dimples and gentle, sweet eyes. I wasn’t the only one, everyone looked at her and admired her, both men and women admired her, despite the fact that she eclipsed them all. It was impossible not to admire. According to the law, so to speak, I did not dance the mazurka with her, but in reality I danced almost all the time with her. She, without embarrassment, walked straight across the hall to me, and I jumped up without waiting for an invitation, and she thanked me with a smile for my insight. When we were brought to her and she did not guess my quality, she, giving her hand not to me, shrugged her thin shoulders and, as a sign of regret and consolation, smiled at me. When they did the mazurka waltz figures, I waltzed with her for a long time, and she, breathing quickly, smiled and said to me: “Encore.” And I waltzed again and again and did not feel my body. “Well, why didn’t you feel, I think, you really felt when you hugged her waist, not only your own, but also her body,” said one of the guests. Ivan Vasilyevich suddenly blushed and almost shouted angrily: - Yes, that’s you, today’s youth. You see nothing except the body. It wasn't like that in our time. The more in love I was, the more incorporeal she became for me. Now you see legs, ankles and something else, you undress the women you are in love with, but for me, as Alphonse Karr said, he was a good writer, the object of my love was always wearing bronze clothes. We didn’t just undress, but tried to cover our nakedness, like the good son of Noah. Well, you won't understand... - Don't listen to him. What's next? - said one of us. - Yes. So I danced with her again and didn’t see how time passed. The musicians, with a kind of desperation of weariness, you know, as happens at the end of the ball, picked up the same mazurka motif, father and mother rose from the living room from the card tables, waiting for dinner, footmen ran in more often, carrying something. It was three o'clock. We had to take advantage of the last minutes. I chose her again, and we walked along the hall for the hundredth time. - So, after dinner, the square dance is mine? - I told her, leading her to the place. “Of course, if they don’t take me away,” she said, smiling. “I won’t,” I said. “Give me the fan,” she said. “It’s a pity to give it away,” I said, handing her a cheap white fan. “So here’s to you, so you don’t regret it,” she said, tore a feather from the fan and gave it to me. I took the feather and could only express all my delight and gratitude with a glance. I was not only cheerful and contented, I was happy, blissful, I was kind, I was not me, but some unearthly creature, knowing no evil and capable of only good. I hid the feather in my glove and stood there, unable to move away from her. “Look, daddy is being asked to dance,” she told me, pointing to the tall, stately figure of her father, a colonel with silver epaulettes, standing in the doorway with the hostess and other ladies. “Varenka, come here,” we heard the loud voice of the hostess in a diamond feronniere and with Elizabethan shoulders. Varenka went to the door, and I followed her. - Persuade, ma chère, your father to walk with you. Well, please, Pyotr Vladislavich,” the hostess turned to the colonel. Varenka's father was a very handsome, stately, tall and fresh old man. His face was very ruddy, with a white curled mustache à la Nicolas I, white sideburns drawn up to the mustache and combed forward temples, and the same affectionate, joyful smile, like his daughter’s, was in his shining eyes and lips. He was beautifully built, with a wide chest, sparsely decorated with orders, protruding in a military manner, with strong shoulders and long slender legs. He was a military commander, like an old campaigner of Nikolaev bearing. When we approached the doors, the colonel refused, saying that he had forgotten how to dance, but still, smiling, throwing his arm over his left side, he took the sword out of his belt, gave it to the helpful young man and, pulling a suede glove on his right hand, “ “Everything must be done according to the law,” he said, smiling, took his daughter’s hand and made a quarter turn, waiting for the beat. Having waited for the start of the mazurka motif, he smartly stamped one foot, kicked out the other, and his tall, heavy figure, sometimes quietly and smoothly, sometimes noisily and violently, with the clatter of soles and feet against feet, moved around the hall. The graceful figure of Varenka floated next to him, imperceptibly, shortening or lengthening the steps of her small white satin legs in time. The entire hall watched the couple's every move. I not only admired them, but looked at them with rapturous emotion. I was especially touched by his boots, covered with strips - good calf boots, but not fashionable ones, with sharp ones, but ancient ones, with square toes and without heels. Obviously, the boots were built by a battalion shoemaker. “To take out and dress his beloved daughter, he does not buy fashionable boots, but wears homemade ones,” I thought, and these quadrangular toes of the boots especially touched me. It was clear that he had once danced beautifully, but now he was overweight, and his legs were no longer elastic enough for all those beautiful and fast steps that he tried to perform. But he still deftly completed two laps. When he, quickly spreading his legs, brought them together again and, although somewhat heavily, fell to one knee, and she, smiling and adjusting her skirt, which he had caught, smoothly walked around him, everyone applauded loudly. Rising with some effort, he gently and sweetly grabbed his daughter by the ears and, kissing her forehead, brought her to me, thinking that I was dancing with her. I said that I am not her boyfriend. “Well, it doesn’t matter, now go for a walk with her,” he said, smiling affectionately and threading his sword into his sword belt. Just as it happens that after one drop spills from a bottle, its contents pour out in large streams, so in my soul, love for Varenka freed all the ability of love hidden in my soul. At that time I embraced the whole world with my love. I loved the hostess in the feronniere, with her Elizabethan bust, and her husband, and her guests, and her lackeys, and even the engineer Anisimov, who was sulking at me. At that time, I felt a kind of enthusiastically tender feeling towards her father, with his house boots and a gentle smile similar to hers. The Mazurka ended, the hosts asked for guests for dinner, but Colonel B. refused, saying that he had to get up early tomorrow, and said goodbye to the hosts. I was afraid that they would take her away too, but she stayed with her mother. After dinner, I danced the promised quadrille with her, and, despite the fact that I seemed to be infinitely happy, my happiness grew and grew. We didn't say anything about love. I didn’t even ask her or myself whether she loved me. It was enough for me that I loved her. And I was afraid of only one thing, that something might spoil my happiness. When I arrived home, undressed and thought about sleep, I saw that this was completely impossible. I had in my hand a feather from her fan and her whole glove, which she gave me when she left, when she got into the carriage and I picked up her mother and then her. I looked at these things and, without closing my eyes, I saw her in front of me at that moment when, choosing from two gentlemen, she guessed my quality, and I heard her sweet voice when she said: "Pride? Yes?" - and joyfully gives me his hand, or when at dinner he sips a glass of champagne and looks at me from under his brows with caressing eyes. But most of all I see her paired with her father, when she smoothly moves around him and looks at the admiring spectators with pride and joy, both for herself and for him. And I involuntarily unite him and her in one tender, touching feeling. At that time we lived alone with our late brother. My brother didn’t like the world at all and didn’t go to balls, but now he was preparing for the candidate’s exam and leading the most correct life. He slept. I looked at his head buried in the pillow and half covered by the flannel blanket, and I felt lovingly sorry for him, sorry for the fact that he did not know and did not share the happiness that I was experiencing. Our serf footman Petrusha met me with a candle and wanted to help me undress, but I let him go. The sight of his sleepy face with tangled hair seemed touchingly touching to me. Trying not to make any noise, I tiptoed into my room and sat down on the bed. No, I was too happy, I couldn't sleep. Moreover, I was hot in the heated rooms, and without taking off my uniform, I slowly went out into the hallway, put on my overcoat, opened the outer door and went out into the street. I left the ball at five o’clock, by the time I got home, I sat at home, another two hours passed, so when I left, it was already light. It was the most Pancake week weather, there was fog, the snow saturated with water was melting on the roads, and it was dripping from all the roofs. B. lived then at the end of the city, near a large field, at one end of which there was a festivities, and at the other - a girls' institute. I walked through our deserted lane and went out onto a large street, where pedestrians and draymen with firewood on sleighs that reached the pavement with runners began to meet. And the horses, their wet heads swaying evenly under the glossy arches, and the cabbies covered with matting, splashing in huge boots next to the carts, and the houses of the street, which seemed very high in the fog - everything was especially sweet and significant to me. When I went out onto the field where their house was, I saw at the end of it, in the direction of the walk, something large, black, and I heard the sounds of a flute and drum coming from there. I was singing all the time in my soul and occasionally heard the motif of a mazurka. But it was some other, hard, bad music. "What it is?" — I thought and walked along the slippery road in the middle of the field in the direction of the sounds. After walking a hundred paces, because of the fog, I began to distinguish many black people. Obviously soldiers. “That’s right, training,” I thought, and together with the blacksmith in a greasy sheepskin coat and apron, who was carrying something and walking in front of me, I came closer. The soldiers in black uniforms stood in two rows facing each other, holding their guns to their feet, and did not move. Behind them stood a drummer and a flute player, constantly repeating the same unpleasant, shrill melody. -What are they doing? - I asked the blacksmith who stopped next to me. “The Tatar is being persecuted for escaping,” the blacksmith said angrily, looking at the far end of the rows. I began to look in the same direction and saw something terrible in the middle of the rows, approaching me. Approaching me was a bare-chested man, tied to the guns of two soldiers who were leading him. Next to him walked a tall military man in an overcoat and cap, whose figure seemed familiar to me. Twitching with his whole body, splashing his feet on the melted snow, the punished, under the blows raining down on him from both sides, moved towards me, then tipping back - and then the non-commissioned officers, leading him by the guns, pushed him forward, then falling forward - and then The non-commissioned officers, holding him from falling, pulled him back. And keeping pace with him, the tall military man walked with a firm, trembling gait. It was her father, with his ruddy face and white mustache and sideburns. With each blow, the person being punished, as if in surprise, turned his face, wrinkled with suffering, in the direction from which the blow fell, and, baring his white teeth, repeated some of the same words. Only when he was very close did I hear these words. He did not speak, but sobbed: “Brothers, have mercy. Brothers, have mercy." But the brothers were not merciful, and when the procession was completely level with me, I saw how the soldier standing opposite me resolutely stepped forward and, whistling, swinging his stick, slapped it hard on the Tatar’s back. The Tatar jerked forward, but the non-commissioned officers held him back, and the same blow fell on him from the other side, and again from this, and again from that. The colonel walked alongside, and, looking first at his feet, then at the man being punished, he drew in air, puffing out his cheeks, and slowly released it through his protruding lip. When the procession passed the place where I was standing, I caught a glimpse of the back of the man being punished between the rows. It was something so motley, wet, red, unnatural that I did not believe that it was a human body. “Oh God,” said the blacksmith next to me. The procession began to move away, blows still fell from both sides on the stumbling, writhing man, and the drums still beat and the flute whistled, and the tall, stately figure of the colonel next to the punished man still moved with a firm step. Suddenly the colonel stopped and quickly approached one of the soldiers. “I’ll anoint you,” I heard his angry voice. -Are you going to smear it? Will you? And I saw how he, with his strong hand in a suede glove, hit a frightened, short, weak soldier in the face because he did not bring his stick down hard enough on the red back of the Tatar. — Serve some fresh spitzrutens! - he shouted, looking around and saw me. Pretending that he did not know me, he quickly turned away, frowning menacingly and viciously. I was so ashamed that, not knowing where to look, as if I had been caught in the most shameful act, I lowered my eyes and hurried to go home. All the way in my ears I heard drums beating and a flute whistling, or the words: “Brothers, have mercy,” or I heard the self-confident, angry voice of the colonel shouting: “Are you going to smear? Will you? Meanwhile, there was an almost physical melancholy in my heart, almost to the point of nausea, such that I stopped several times, and it seemed to me that I was about to vomit with all the horror that entered me from this sight. I don’t remember how I got home and went to bed. But as soon as he began to fall asleep, he heard and saw everything again and jumped up. “Obviously, he knows something that I don’t know,” I thought about the colonel. “If I knew what he knows, I would understand what I saw, and it would not torment me.” But no matter how much I thought, I could not understand what the colonel knew, and I fell asleep only in the evening, and then after I went to a friend and got completely drunk with him. Well, do you think that I then decided that what I saw was a bad thing? Not at all. “If this was done with such confidence and was recognized by everyone as necessary, then it follows that they knew something that I did not know,” I thought and tried to find out. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find out. And without finding out, he could not enter military service, as he had wanted before, and not only did he not serve in the military, but he did not serve anywhere and, as you see, was no good for anything. “Well, we know how good you are,” said one of us. — Tell me better: no matter how many people would be worthless if you were not there. “Well, this is absolutely nonsense,” said Ivan Vasilyevich with sincere annoyance. - Well, what about love? - we asked. - Love? Love began to wane from that day on. When she, as often happened with her, with a smile on her face, thought, I immediately remembered the colonel in the square, and I felt somehow awkward and unpleasant, and I began to see her less often. And the love just faded away. So this is what things happen and what changes and directs a person’s whole life. And you say...” he finished.