Online reading of the book Sunstroke Ivan Bunin. Sunstroke. Ivan bunin - sunstroke

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| collection site
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| Ivan Alekseevich Bunin
| Sunstroke
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After dinner, we left the brightly and hotly lit dining room onto the deck and stopped at the railings. She closed her eyes, put her hand to her cheek with her palm outward, laughed with a simple, charming laugh - everything was charming in this little woman - and said:
- I'm completely drunk ... Actually, I'm completely out of my mind. Where did you come from? Three hours ago, I didn't even know you existed. I don't even know where you sat. In Samara? But still, you're cute. Is my head spinning, or are we turning somewhere?
There was darkness and lights ahead. From the darkness a strong, soft wind was blowing in the face, and the lights were rushing somewhere to the side: the steamer with the Volga panache was abruptly describing a wide arc, running up to a small pier.
The lieutenant took her hand, raised it to his lips. The hand, small and strong, smelled of tan. And blissfully and terribly her heart sank at the thought of how strong and dark she was, probably, under this light canvas dress after a whole month of lying under the southern sun, on the hot sea sand (she said that she was coming from Anapa).
The lieutenant muttered:
- Let's get off ...
- Where? She asked in surprise.
“On this pier.
- Why?
He said nothing. She put her hand back on her hot cheek again.
- Crazy…
“Let's get off,” he repeated dully. - I beg you…
“Oh, do as you please,” she said, turning away.
The scattered steamer slammed into the dimly lit pier with a soft thud, and they nearly fell on top of each other. The end of the rope flew over our heads, then it flew backwards, and the water boiled with a noise, the gangway rattled ... The lieutenant rushed to get his things.
A minute later they passed the sleepy office, went out into the deep sand, up to the hub, and silently sat down in the dusty cab. The gentle uphill climb, among the rare crooked lanterns, along the road soft with dust, seemed endless. But then they got up, drove out and crackled along the pavement, here was some kind of square, public places, watchtower, the warmth and smells of a night summer county town ... wooden ladder, an old, unshaven footman in a pink shirt and a frock coat took his things with displeasure and walked forward on his trampled feet. We entered a large, but terribly stuffy room, hotly heated by the sun during the day, with white lowered curtains on the windows and two unburned candles on the mirror, and as soon as they entered and the footman closed the door, the lieutenant rushed to her so impetuously and both of them gasped in a kiss so frenziedly that for many years they remembered this moment later: neither one nor the other had ever experienced anything like this in their entire life.
At ten o'clock in the morning, sunny, hot, happy, with the ringing of churches, with a bazaar on the square in front of the hotel, with the smell of hay, tar and again all that complex and smelly smell of the Russian county town, she, this little nameless woman, and without telling her name, jokingly calling herself a beautiful stranger, she left.

We slept little, but in the morning, coming out from behind the screen by the bed, having washed and dressed in five minutes, she was as fresh as at seventeen. Was she embarrassed? No, very little. She was still simple, cheerful and - already reasonable.
- No, no, dear, - she said in response to his request to go on together, - no, you must stay until the next steamer. If we go together, everything will be ruined. It will be very unpleasant for me. I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think of me. Nothing even similar to what happened has never happened to me, and there will never be any more. I was definitely eclipsed ... Or rather, we both got something like a sunstroke ...
And the lieutenant somehow easily agreed with her. In a light and happy spirit, he drove her to the dock, just in time for the departure of the pink Airplane, kissed her on deck in front of everyone and barely had time to jump onto the gangway, which had already moved back.
He returned to the hotel just as easily, carelessly. However, something has changed. The number without her seemed somehow completely different than it was with her. He was still full of her - and empty. It was weird! She also smelled of good English cologne, her unfinished cup was still on the tray, but she was gone ... And the lieutenant's heart suddenly sank with such tenderness that the lieutenant hurried to smoke and, slapping his bootlegs with a stack, walked up and down the room several times.
- A strange adventure! He said aloud, laughing and feeling that tears were pouring into his eyes. - "I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might have thought ..." And already left ... Ridiculous woman!
The screen had been pushed aside, the bed had not yet been made. And he felt that he simply did not have the strength to look at this bed now. He closed it with a screen, shut the windows so as not to hear the bazaar talk and the creak of the wheels, pulled down the white bubbling curtains, sat down on the sofa ... Yes, this is the end of this "road adventure"! She left - and now she is already far away, probably sitting in a glass white saloon or on the deck and looking at the huge river shining under the sun, at the oncoming rafts, at the yellow shallows, at the shining distance of water and sky, at all this immense Volga expanse ... And I'm sorry, and already forever, forever. - Because where can they meet now? “I can't,” he thought, “I can't come to this city for no reason, no reason, where her husband, her three-year-old girl, in general, her whole family and all of her usual life! " And this city seemed to him some kind of special, reserved city, and the thought that she would live her lonely life in it, often, perhaps, remembering him, remembering their accidental, such a fleeting meeting, and he never will not see her, the thought amazed and amazed him. No, it can't be! It would be too wild, unnatural, incredible! - And he felt such pain and such uselessness of his entire future life without her that he was seized by horror, despair.
"What the hell! - he thought, getting up, again starting to walk around the room and trying not to look at the bed behind the screen. - What is it with me? It seems, not for the first time - and now ... But what is special about her and what actually happened? Indeed, it’s like some kind of sunstroke! And most importantly, how can I now, without her, spend the whole day in this backwater? "
He still remembered her all, with all her slightest features, remembered the smell of her tan and gingham dress, her strong body, the lively, simple and cheerful sound of her voice ... now the main thing was still this second, completely new feeling - that painful, incomprehensible feeling that did not exist at all while they were together, which he could not even imagine in himself, starting yesterday this, as he thought, was just an amusing acquaintance, and about which there was no one, no one to tell now! - “And the main thing,” he thought, “you can never tell! And what to do, how to live this endless day, with these memories, with this insoluble torment, in this godforsaken town above the very shining Volga, along which this pink steamer carried her! "
I had to save myself, occupy something, distract myself, go somewhere. He resolutely put on his cap, took a stack, quickly walked, jingling his spurs, along the empty corridor, ran down the steep stairs to the entrance ... Yes, but where to go? At the entrance stood a young cab, in a dexterous coat, and calmly smoked a gypsy, obviously waiting for someone. The lieutenant looked at him in bewilderment and amazement: how is it possible to sit so calmly on the box, smoke and generally be simple, careless, indifferent? “I’m probably the only one so terribly unhappy in this whole city,” he thought as he walked towards the bazaar.
The bazaar was already leaving. For some reason he walked along fresh manure among carts, among carts of cucumbers, among new bowls and pots, and the women sitting on the ground, vying with each other to call him, took the pots in their hands and knocked, tinkled with their fingers, showing their good quality, the men stunned him, shouted to him “This is the first sort of cucumbers, your honor! " All this was so stupid, absurd that he fled from the market. He went into the cathedral, where they were already singing loudly, cheerfully and decisively, with the consciousness of a fulfilled duty, then he walked for a long time, circled around the small, hot and neglected garden on the cliff of the mountain, over the immense light-steel width of the river ... The shoulder straps and buttons of his tunic were so stung that they could not be touched. The peg of the cap was wet with sweat inside, his face was flushed ... Returning to the hotel, he delightedly entered the large and empty cool dining room on the lower floor, took off his cap with delight and sat down at a table near the open window, which carried heat, but still breathed air, and ordered botvinya with ice. Everything was good, there was immeasurable happiness in everything, great joy, even in this heat and in all the smells of the bazaar, in this whole unfamiliar town and in this old district hotel there was she, this joy, and at the same time my heart was simply torn to pieces. He drank several glasses of vodka, nibbling on lightly salted cucumbers with dill and feeling that he, without hesitation, would die tomorrow, if it were possible by some miracle to return her, spend another day with her, - spend only then, only then, in order to express to her and prove with something, to convince how painfully and enthusiastically he loves her ... Why prove? Why convince? He didn't know why, but it was more necessary than life.
- The nerves have completely cleared up! - he said, pouring the fifth glass of vodka.
He pushed the botvinya away from him, asked for black coffee and began to smoke and think intensely: what should he do now, how to get rid of this sudden, unexpected love? But to get rid - he felt it too vividly - was impossible. And suddenly he quickly got up again, took the cap and the stack and, asking where the post office was, hurriedly went there with the phrase of the telegram already ready in his head: "From now on, blowing my life forever, to the grave, yours, in your power." - But, having reached the old thick-walled house, where there was a post office and a telegraph office, he stopped in horror: he knew the city where she lived, knew that she had a husband and a three-year-old daughter, but did not know her last name or her first name! He asked her about this several times yesterday at dinner and at the hotel, and each time she laughed and said:
- Why do you need to know who I am? I am Marya Marevna, the overseas princess ... Isn't that enough for you?
On the corner, near the post office, there was a photographic display case. He looked for a long time at a large portrait of a military man in thick epaulettes, with bulging eyes, with a low forehead, with amazingly magnificent sideburns and a wide chest, completely decorated with orders ... - yes, amazed, he understood it now, - with this terrible "sunstroke", too much love, too much happiness! He glanced at the newlywed couple - a young man in a long frock coat and a white tie, cropped by a hedgehog, stretched out in front of the arm with a girl in a wedding gas, - turned his eyes to a portrait of some pretty and perky young lady in a student cap on one side ... Then, languishing in a painful envy to all these unknown to him, not suffering people, began to look tensely along the street.
- Where to go? What to do?
The street was completely empty. The houses were all the same, white, two-story, merchant houses, with large gardens, and it seemed that there was not a soul in them; thick white dust lay on the pavement; and all this was blinding, everything was flooded with hot, fiery and joyful, but here it was as if aimless, the sun. In the distance, the street rose, hunched over and rested against the cloudless, grayish, with a reflection of the sky. There was something southern about it, reminiscent of Sevastopol, Kerch ... Anapa. This was especially unbearable. And the lieutenant, with his head bowed, squinting from the light, staring intently at his feet, staggering, stumbling, clinging to the spur with his spur, walked back.
He returned to the hotel so overwhelmed with fatigue, as if he had made a huge trek somewhere in Turkestan, in the Sahara. Gathering his last strength, he entered his large and empty room. The room had already been tidied up, devoid of the last traces of her - only one hairpin, forgotten by her, lay on the night table! He took off his tunic and looked at himself in the mirror: his face, - an ordinary officer's face, gray with sunburn, with whitish mustache faded from the sun and bluish whiteness of eyes that seemed even whiter from the sun - now had an excited, crazy expression, and in a thin white shirt with a standing starched collar, there was something youthful and deeply unhappy. He lay down on the bed, on his back, and put his dusty boots on the dump. The windows were open, the curtains were drawn down, and a light breeze from time to time blew them in, blew into the room with the heat of iron roofs and all this luminous and now completely empty silent Volga world. He lay with his hands under the back of his head and gazed into the space in front of him. Then he gritted his teeth, closed his eyelids, feeling the tears roll down his cheeks - and finally fell asleep, and when he opened his eyes again, the evening sun was already turning reddish yellow behind the curtains. The wind died down, the room was stuffy and dry, like in an oven ... Both yesterday and this morning were remembered as if they were ten years ago.
He slowly got up, slowly washed, lifted the curtains, rang the bell and asked for the samovar and the bill, drank tea with lemon for a long time. Then he ordered a cabman to be brought in, carry out his things, and, sitting down in the cab, on its red-haired, burnt-out seat, he gave the footman a full five rubles.
- And it seems, your honor, that it was me who brought you at night! Said the cabby cheerfully, taking hold of the reins.
When we went down to the pier, the blue over the Volga was already blue summer night, and already many colored lights were scattered along the river, and the lights hung on the masts of the approaching steamer.
- Delivered exactly! - said the cabby ingratiatingly.
The lieutenant gave him five rubles, took a ticket, went to the dock ... Just like yesterday, there was a soft knock on her dock and a slight dizziness from unsteadiness underfoot, then a flying end, the sound of boiling and running forward water under the wheels of a steamer leaning back slightly ... And it seemed unusually friendly and good from the crowd of this steamer, already lit everywhere and smelling of the kitchen.
A minute later they ran further, up, to the same place where she had been carried away this morning.
The dark summer dawn was dying away far ahead, gloomy, sleepy and multi-colored reflected in the river, still here and there shining with trembling ripples in the distance below it, under this dawn, and the lights, scattered in the darkness around, floated and floated back.
The lieutenant was sitting under a canopy on the deck, feeling ten years older.

Alps-Maritimes. 1925

- I'm completely drunk ... Actually, I'm completely out of my mind. Where did you come from? Three hours ago, I didn't even know you existed. I don't even know where you sat. In Samara? But still, you're cute. Is my head spinning, or are we turning somewhere?

There was darkness and lights ahead. From the darkness a strong, soft wind was blowing in the face, and the lights were rushing somewhere to the side: the steamer with the Volga panache was abruptly describing a wide arc, running up to a small pier.

The lieutenant took her hand, raised it to his lips. The hand, small and strong, smelled of tan. And blissfully and terribly her heart sank at the thought of how strong and dark she was, probably, under this light canvas dress after a whole month of lying under the southern sun, on the hot sea sand (she said that she was coming from Anapa).

The lieutenant muttered:

- Let's get off ...

- Where? She asked in surprise.

“On this pier.

He said nothing. She put her hand back to her hot cheek again.

- Crazy…

“Let's get off,” he repeated dully. - I beg you…

“Oh, do as you please,” she said, turning away.

The scattered steamer slammed into the dimly lit pier with a soft thud, and they nearly fell on top of each other. The end of the rope flew over our heads, then it flew backwards, and the water boiled with a noise, the gangway rattled ... The lieutenant rushed to get his things.

A minute later they passed the sleepy office, went out into the deep sand, up to the hub, and silently sat down in the dusty cab. The gentle uphill climb, among the rare crooked lanterns, along the road soft with dust, seemed endless. But then they got up, drove out and crackled along the pavement, here was some kind of square, public places, watchtower, the warmth and smells of a night summer county town ... in a pink blouse and in a frock coat, dissatisfied, he took his things and walked forward on his trampled feet. We entered a large, but terribly stuffy room, hotly heated by the sun during the day, with white lowered curtains on the windows and two unburned candles on the mirror, and as soon as they entered and the footman closed the door, the lieutenant rushed to her so impetuously and both of them gasped in a kiss so frenziedly that for many years they remembered this moment later: neither one nor the other had ever experienced anything like this in their entire life.

At ten o'clock in the morning, sunny, hot, happy, with the ringing of churches, with a bazaar on the square in front of the hotel, with the smell of hay, tar and again all that complex and smelly smell of the Russian county town, she, this little nameless woman, and without telling her name, jokingly calling herself a beautiful stranger, she left. We slept a little, but in the morning, coming out from behind the screen by the bed, having washed and dressed in five minutes, she was as fresh as at seventeen. Was she embarrassed? No, very little. She was still simple, cheerful and - already reasonable.

- No, no, dear, - she said in response to his request to go on together, - no, you must stay until the next steamer. If we go together, everything will be ruined. It will be very unpleasant for me. I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think of me. Nothing even similar to what happened has never happened to me, and there will never be any more. I was definitely eclipsed ... Or rather, we both got something like a sunstroke ...

What is love? Scientists, philosophers, poets and writers have been asking this question for centuries. Among the latter, Ivan Alekseevich Bunin occupies a special place. Each of his works is a search true love, the discovery of an infinite variety of its facets and shades. Every hero of it amazing stories comes to one thing: love is a feeling that is both a great gift and a powerful test. The story written in 1927 is a vivid confirmation of this. Our site offers a short story by I.A. Bunin's "Sunstroke" read online.

The main characters of the work are he and she. The author omitted their names, thereby emphasizing the recurring "formula" of the plot - an unexpected meeting, a rapid rapprochement, a surge of feelings and an inevitable separation. However, a third character lurked between the lines - a dazzling sunlight... The reader feels it everywhere: among the "bright and hotly lit dining room on the deck", and among the houses of the "unfamiliar town" soaked in heat, and among the "terribly stuffy, hotly heated" hotel room, and in the lieutenant's memories of seductive, tan-smelling hands heroines. Literally everything is saturated with fire, glitter and heat. So what kind of light is this: "too much love", "too much happiness" or a fleeting, impetuous passion that leaves behind a sharp aftertaste? An unambiguous answer by I.A. Bunin does not. For a writer, the sphere of human feelings is a sphere of the greatest, incomprehensible mystery, an infinitely deep ocean, the bottom of which is impossible to reach. These depths cannot but frighten. But they also inspire. They fall and often drown in them. But at the same time, they acquire something that cannot be measured and reach the highest point of true love.

You can download the story "Sunstroke" for free on our website.

They meet on the deck of the ship. She's a lovely little woman, he's a military man. She returns home from Anapa along the Volga. Three hours ago, she did not know about his existence, however, she accepts his offer to get off at the nearest pier. They stay at a hotel in a small county town.

The next morning without a shadow of embarrassment main character leaves his beloved, refusing to continue the journey together, so as not to spoil the memory of their beautiful romance. Recklessness is unusual for her, nothing like it has ever been and never will be. Their adventure is eclipse, sunstroke. He escorts her to the pier and says goodbye to her forever.

The young man is left alone. He returns to the hotel room, where everything reminds of her, for some reason wanders through the bazaar, where everything seems stupid and ridiculous, enters the cathedral in search of consolation, dines, but nothing returns him to his usual peace. An unexpected acquaintance caused a storm of emotions: happiness, longing, jealousy of happy couples, which he sees in the photographs in the showcase of the photo studio. Realizing that he cannot get rid of a sudden surging feeling, the lieutenant is ready to send a telegram to the stranger and inform that from now on his life is at her mercy. However, he does not know her name. He only knows that she is married and has a three-year-old daughter.

After wandering around the city the main character returns to his room with an expression of amorous madness in the look of light blue eyes, throws himself on the bed and falls asleep in tears. Waking up in the morning, he slowly drinks tea with lemon, and the events of yesterday seem to him to have happened a decade ago. Continuing the journey brings relief, but getting lost among the many passengers of the steamer and admiring the expanses of the river, he feels ten years older. Nothing goes unnoticed.

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They meet in the summer, on one of the Volga steamers. He is a lieutenant, She is a lovely, small, tanned woman returning home from Anapa.

I'm completely drunk, ”she laughed. - Actually, I'm completely crazy. Three hours ago, I didn't even know you existed.

The lieutenant kisses her hand, and his heart stops blissfully and terribly.

The steamer approaches the pier, the lieutenant begs her to get off. A minute later they go to the hotel and rent a large, but stuffy room. As soon as the footman closes the door behind him, both of them merge so frenziedly in a kiss that then for many years they remember this moment: none of them has ever experienced anything like it.

And in the morning this little nameless woman, jokingly calling herself "a beautiful stranger" and "Princess Marya Morevna", leaves. Despite an almost sleepless night, she is as fresh as at seventeen, a little embarrassed, still simple, cheerful, and already sensible: she asks the lieutenant to stay until the next steamer.

Nothing even similar to what happened has never happened to me, and there will never be any more. I was definitely eclipsed ... Or rather, we both got something like a sunstroke ...

And the lieutenant somehow easily agrees with her, takes her to the pier, gets on the ship and kisses in front of everyone on the deck.

He easily and carelessly returns to the hotel, but the room seems to the lieutenant for some other. It is still full of it - and empty. The lieutenant's heart suddenly squeezes with such tenderness that there is no strength to look at the unmade bed - and he closes it with a screen. He thinks this sweet "road trip" is over. He cannot “come to this city, where her husband, her three-year-old girl, in general her whole ordinary life”.

The thought amazes him. He feels such pain and the uselessness of his entire future life without her that he is seized with horror and despair. The lieutenant begins to believe that this is really a "sunstroke" and does not know "how to live this endless day, with these memories, with this insoluble torment."

The lieutenant goes to the bazaar, to the cathedral, then circles for a long time in the abandoned garden, but nowhere does he find solace and deliverance from this uninvited feeling.

How wild, how absurd is everything everyday, ordinary, when the heart is struck by this terrible "sunstroke", too much love, too much happiness.

Returning to the hotel, the lieutenant orders lunch. All is well, but he knows that he would die tomorrow without hesitation, if it were possible by some miracle to return the "beautiful stranger" and prove how painfully and enthusiastically he loves her. He does not know why, but this is more necessary for him than life.

Realizing that it is impossible to get rid of this unexpected love, the lieutenant decisively goes to the post office with a telegram already written, but stops at the post office in horror - he does not know her name or surname! The lieutenant returns to the hotel completely broken, lies down on the bed, closes his eyes, feeling tears rolling down his cheeks, and finally falls asleep.

The lieutenant wakes up in the evening. He remembers yesterday and this morning as a distant past. He gets up, washes, drinks tea with lemon for a long time, pays for the room and goes to the pier.

The steamer leaves at night. The lieutenant sits under a canopy on the deck, feeling ten years older.