A brief description of the story of Bunin's figure. Ivan Bunin - numbers. Main characters and their characteristics

(321 words) The events in the story "Numbers" begin with the fact that, waking up in the morning, little Zhenya is eager to learn to write and read. He dreams of being issued a children's magazine as soon as possible, buying a pencil case, picture books and colored pencils. The boy asks his uncle about this, but he declares the day "royal", not wanting to go to the city. Zhenya does not let up and asks to show him the numbers. But uncle is too lazy to do it right now, and he promises to show them tomorrow. The boy is offended, but resigned, begins to look forward to tomorrow. After breakfast, he makes noise in the hall - he overturns chairs with shouts, expressing the exciting joy of waiting.

And in the evening, when mom, grandmother and uncle are talking at the table, Zhenya finds a new entertainment for himself - jumping up with a sharp cry and kicking the floor with all his might. He is happy about this, but adults do not like this behavior of the boy. In the end, losing patience, the uncle jumps up from his chair, yells at his nephew, spanks and pushes him out of the room. The victim cries and calls either his mother or his grandmother for help. The conversation is terminated. The uncle is ashamed of his act, and he lights a cigarette without raising his eyes. The mother, returning to knitting, complains that her son is too spoiled. Grandmother turns to the window, banging her spoon on the table, and barely restrains herself from going to the nursery.

Half an hour later, my uncle comes into the nursery, pretending to come in on business. The boy, panting, plays with empty matchboxes. As the uncle walks towards the exit, the nephew declares that he will never love him again. Mother and grandmother follow the uncle. They advise Zhenya to ask for forgiveness from his uncle, but the boy does not give up. In the end, the grandmother manages to break the child's pride, reminding him that no one except his uncle will teach him numbers.

Zhenya asks for forgiveness from his uncle, says that he loves him very much, and still asks to show the numbers. Uncle tells him to carry a chair to the table, paper and pencils. The child is happy - his dream has come true. Leaning on the table with his chest, he displays the numbers and learns to count them correctly. And the uncle is also happy because the nephew is happy.

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Title of the work: Numbers

Year of writing: 1906

Genre: story

Main characters: boy Zhenya, his uncle, Mother And grandmother

After reading the summary of the story "Numbers" for the reader's diary, you will definitely refer to the full text of the story about the complex relationship between adults and children.

Plot

Zhenya lives with her mother and grandmother, and her uncle comes to visit them and brings gifts. Zhenya is a big naughty person, he rarely receives refusals in his desires, but at the same time he is a cheerful, healthy, very active child at an age when you want to explore the world and splash out your joy on others. Uncle promised to show him how to write numbers and teach him how to write. In a fit of happiness, the boy began to make noise and play pranks, for which he was punished and put in a dark, quiet room. The quarrel between the child and adults continued until the evening, because he did not want to apologize for his pampering. And only the grandmother, already at dusk, was able to persuade the boy to make peace with his uncle. And the next morning, the boy and the man were doing an interesting thing together: writing numbers with colored pencils.

Conclusion (my opinion)

The story is told in the first person, the author recalls a real incident, his quarrel with his nephew and reminds him of it, who has already matured. This story is useful for both children and adults, because the author tells in great detail about the change of feelings and experiences during an ugly quarrel. I think that both children and their parents will find something useful for themselves in this work.

This story is written in the form of a confession of an adult to a little boy. The author turns to his nephew Zhenya, with whom he had a serious quarrel, trying to explain to him and to himself the motives of his behavior.

Uncle loves this baby very much. “I must tell you: you are a big naughty. When something captivates you, you don’t know how to keep it,” he writes about his nephew. But how touching is this boy when he clings to his uncle's shoulder forlornly! As soon as he says at least one kind word at that moment, the baby begins to impulsively kiss and hug his uncle.

What caused the quarrel between these two people so strongly attached to each other?

The uncle who came to visit is the source of the most remarkable discoveries for the boy. He brings him gifts, teaches him many fascinating things. And now he promised to buy picture books, a pencil case, colored pencils. But most importantly, he promised to teach numbers!

With childlike impatience, the kid demands the immediate realization of his dream. But uncle doesn't want to go to the store right now. He tries to be cunning, says that today is the royal day (day off) and shops do not work. The nephew does not believe this excuse, insists on his own. The uncle, believing that a child should not be spoiled, does not deviate from his decision. Then the boy asks to show at least the numbers. For the same educational reasons, my uncle puts it off until tomorrow.

- All right, uncle! - threatened then usually a very affectionate baby. - Remember that for yourself!

The energy, which was supposed to find an outlet in the joy of fulfilling a cherished desire, began to look for a different outlet: the little nephew was playing naughty in earnest. He ran, overturning chairs, making noise. And at evening tea he came up with a new game: he jumped up, kicked the floor with all his might and screamed loudly at the same time. His mother and grandmother tried to appease him. Finally, my uncle said, "Stop it." To this, Zhenya boldly replied: “Stop it yourself.” And he kept jumping. Annoyed, his uncle grabbed his arm, gave him a hard slap, and pushed him out the door.

From pain, from a sharp and sudden insult, the boy started screaming, which turned into crying. No one came out to comfort him. Adults steadfastly adhered to their educational principles, although their hearts were torn with pity. “It was unbearable for me, too,” the uncle admits in his confession. “I wanted to get up, throw open the door to the nursery and immediately, with one hot word, stop your suffering. But is this consistent with the rules of a reasonable upbringing and with the dignity of a just, albeit strict, uncle?

When the boy calmed down, the uncle, under a fictitious pretext, nevertheless went into the nursery. Zhenya sat on the floor and played with empty matchboxes. At the sight of the boy, still trembling from recent sobs, his uncle's heart sank. But he continued to persevere.

The nephew looked at his uncle with angry, contemptuous eyes and said hoarsely: "Now I will never love you again."

The adults pretended not to pay attention to the baby.

Who resolved this dramatic conflict for both the boy and adults? Smart, understanding adults? No. Some kind of internal barrier prevented them. This barrier is the ability left in childhood to follow the sincere impulses of the heart without hesitation. In their reasonable logic, they look cruel. The author, mercilessly analyzing the situation for himself, involuntarily leads the reader to this conclusion. The baby takes the first step towards reconciliation. “Uncle, forgive me,” he says, exhausted by the unequal struggle. But in these words there is not so much an admission of guilt as a desire to restore the former harmony, to return love.

And the uncle had mercy, although he himself strove with all his heart to put an end to this ridiculous quarrel. And now he is already showing his nephew the numbers. And he tries to be so submissive, delicate, careful in his every movement, so as not to anger his uncle.

“Now I have already enjoyed your joy, tenderly smelling the smell of your hair: children’s hair smells good, just like little birds,” the uncle admits to the baby in his confession, which he still cannot read. This is a confession to yourself.

Year of publication of the story: 1898

The work "Numbers" by Bunin is a very short story, which is attributed to the early work of the writer. The basis of its popularity is the presence of a story in the school curriculum. In some educational institutions, they even write an essay based on Ivan Bunin's story "Numbers". Such attention to the work of the famous Russian classic ensured that his works got into the ratings of our site, and the writer himself got a high place in ours.

The story "Numbers" summary

The main theme of Bunin's story "Numbers" is a quarrel between the narrator and his nephew. The uncle tells the story of this quarrel to his own nephew, who has forgotten about it. It all starts with the events that take place in the evening. After an argument, the nephew tries to act like a well-mannered boy. Usually the litter ended simply. You came up to me, pressed against my shoulder, and when you heard a kind word from me, you simply hugged me from a child and rushed to kiss. But this time the quarrel was too big. The main character of Bunin's "Numbers" just came up and said: "Good night, uncle" and shuffled his foot, as the nanny taught. I answered distantly6 "Good night." But your childish heart could not stand it, and you blurted out nervously, “Uncle, forgive me… I won’t do it again… And please show me the numbers anyway! Please!". I was a very smart uncle, and as I did not want to fulfill your request right now, I hesitated.

But if we consider the summary of the story "Numbers" by Bunin, then it is worth mentioning how this day began. You woke up thinking about pencils, picture books and wanting to learn how to write, read and draw numbers. Literally right away, you stunned me with this request, and I was a little cunning out of laziness by saying that everything was locked, since today is the royal day. You began to assure that this is not so and demand to fulfill your request right now, but I have already shown firmness for educational purposes. After reading “Our Father” with your grandmother, you drank a bottle of milk and rushed off in anticipation of tomorrow, because how you caught fire with the idea.

Further, in Bunin's short story "Numbers", you will learn how you lived all day waiting for tomorrow. And in the evening I found a great game. You were jumping up and down screaming and kicking the floor. First you ignored your grandmother's remark, then your mother's, and then mine. I tried to pretend not to notice you, but it was not easy to do so. Therefore, when once again you shouted loudly, I jumped up from my chair in a rage. You didn’t seem to be afraid, you shouted again, and then I rushed to you, pulled your hand, and slapped you. Then he kicked him out of the room.

Further, in the story of Ivan Bunin "Numbers" you can read as if from resentment and pain you went into a piercing viola. You started playing the dying man and shouted: “Oh, moms! I'm dying." "Tea won't die," I replied from another room. I wanted to run and console you, but for educational purposes I kept calm. Mom and grandmother tried to do the same, although it was given to them with great difficulty. You realized that no one would ask for forgiveness and pity you, but for some time you screamed in a hoarse voice without tears. But in the end you fell silent.

Further, in the summary of Bunin's story "Numbers", you can read about how about half an hour later I allegedly came to you in search of a cigarette case. You were rearranging empty matchboxes. My heart sank, and I really wanted to go out, but you told me that you would never love me now, you won’t buy anything for me, and you’ll even take the Japanese penny that you gave me. I replied that it's up to you, but taking gifts is not good. Then your mother and grandmother came to you. They also pretended that they came by chance or on business. They persuaded you to ask for forgiveness and even threatened that I would leave for Moscow and never come again. To all this, you only answered: "Well, that's good." In the end, my mother advised me not to pay attention to this snarky one. Only a grandmother after a while dealt a victorious blow to you. She reminded that since you do not love your uncle, he will not show you the numbers and teach you how to write. You have been defeated and your pride has been broken.

The next day, early in the morning, Bunin's main character "Numbers" woke up waiting. But it was necessary to wait and reconcile. And you did it. You came up to me and asked for forgiveness. Said you love me. Then I took mercy and offered you to carry pencils and paper. Your eyes sparkled, and you hurriedly, but trying not to make a mistake, listened to me. You diligently printed each number, and I enjoyed your appearance and the number three, which you wrote as the letter "E".

The story "Numbers" on the Top Books website

Ivan Bunin's story "Numbers" is so popular to read that it is not the first time he has been included in our rating. In addition, during the passage of the work in the school curriculum, interest in it increases many times. It happened this time too, thanks to which Bunin's work "Numbers" is presented in our new rating of 2016. And given all these features, we expect that in our subsequent ratings the story will take its rightful place.

You can read Ivan Bunin's story "Numbers" online on the Top Books website.
You can download Ivan Bunin's story "Numbers" for free on the Top Books website.

My dear, when you grow up, will you remember how one winter evening you went out of the nursery into the dining room, stopped on the threshold - this was after one of our quarrels with you - and, lowering your eyes, made such a sad face? I must tell you: you are a big naughty. When something captivates you, you don't know how to keep it. You often haunt the whole house with your screaming and running around from early morning until late at night. On the other hand, I don’t know anything more touching than you, when, having enjoyed your riot, you quiet down, wander around the rooms and, finally, come up and orphanly cling to my shoulder! But if the matter occurs after a quarrel, and if at that moment I say even one kind word to you, then it is impossible to express what you are doing with my heart then! How impulsively you rush to kiss me, how tightly you wrap your arms around my neck, in abundance of that selfless devotion, that passionate tenderness, which only childhood is capable of! But it was too big a fight. Do you remember that tonight you did not even dare to come close to me? “Good night, uncle,” you said quietly to me and, bowing, shuffled your foot. Of course, you wanted, after all your crimes, to seem a particularly delicate, especially decent and meek boy. The nanny, passing on to you the only sign of good manners known to her, once taught you: “Shuffle your leg!” And here you are, in order to appease me, remembering that you have good manners in reserve. And I understood this - and hastened to answer as if nothing had happened between us, but still very restrained: - Good night. But could you be satisfied with such a world? Yes, and you are not much to dissemble yet. Having suffered through your grief, your heart with a new passion returned to that cherished dream that had so captivated you all this day. And in the evening, as soon as this dream again took possession of you, you forgot both your resentment, and your pride, and your firm decision to hate me all your life. You paused, gathered your strength, and suddenly, in a hurry and agitation, said to me: — Uncle, forgive me... I won't do it again... And, please, show me the numbers anyway! Please! Was it possible to delay the answer after that? But I still slowed down. I'm a very, very smart uncle, you see...

II

You woke up that day with a new thought, with a new dream that captured your whole soul. Joys that have not yet been experienced have just opened up for you: to have your own picture books, a pencil case, colored pencils - certainly colored ones! - and learn to read, draw and write numbers. And all this at once, in one day, as soon as possible. Opening your eyes in the morning, you immediately called me into the nursery and fell asleep with ardent requests: to subscribe to a children's magazine as soon as possible, to buy books, pencils, paper, and immediately set to work on figures. “But today is the royal day, everything is locked up,” I lied in order to delay the matter until tomorrow or at least until the evening: I really didn’t want to go to the city. But you shook your head. - No, no, not royal! You shouted in a thin voice, raising your eyebrows. “Not royal at all,” I know. “Yes, I assure you, king! - I said. “But I know it’s not royal!” Well, please! “If you pester,” I said sternly and firmly, what all uncles say in such cases, “if you pester, I won’t buy anything at all. You lost in thoughts. - Well, what to do! you said with a sigh. - Well, royal, so royal. Well, what about the numbers? After all, it’s possible, ”you said, raising your eyebrows again, but in a bass voice, judiciously,“ after all, you can show numbers on the royal day? “No, you can’t,” Grandma said hastily. - A policeman will come and arrest ... And don't pester your uncle. “Well, that’s too much,” I answered my grandmother. “But I just don’t feel like it right now.” I'll show you tomorrow or tonight. No, show me now! - I don't want to now. Said tomorrow. “Well, well,” you drawled. - Now you say - tomorrow, and then you say - tomorrow. No, show me now! My heart quietly told me that at that moment I was committing a great sin - I was depriving you of happiness, joy ... But then a wise rule came to mind: it is harmful, it is not supposed to spoil children. And I firmly cut: - Tomorrow. If it is said - tomorrow, then it must be done. - All right, uncle! You threatened boldly and cheerfully. - Remember that for yourself! And he hastily dressed. And as soon as he got dressed, as soon as he muttered after his grandmother: “Our Father, who art in heaven ...” and swallowed a cup of milk, he rushed into the hall like a whirlwind. A minute later, the rumble of overturned chairs and distant screams could be heard from there ... And all day it was impossible to appease you. And you dined hastily, absent-mindedly, dangling your legs, and kept looking at me with shining strange eyes. - Will you show me? you asked sometimes. - Will you show me? “Tomorrow I will certainly show you,” I replied. - Oh, how good! you screamed. - God forbid, soon, tomorrow! But joy, mixed with impatience, worried you more and more. And so, when we - grandmother, mother and I - sat at tea before evening, you found another outlet for your excitement.

III

You came up with a great game: jumping up and down, kicking the floor with all your might, and at the same time screaming so loudly that our eardrums almost burst. “Stop it, Zhenya,” Mom said. In response to this, you are kicking the floor! “Stop it, baby, when mother asks,” said grandmother. But you're not afraid of grandma at all. Fuck feet on the floor! “Come on,” I said, grimacing in annoyance and trying to continue the conversation. - Stop it yourself! - you shouted loudly in response to me, with a daring gleam in your eyes and, jumping up, hit the floor even harder and shouted to the beat even more piercingly. I shrugged and pretended not to notice you anymore. But this is where the story begins. I, I say, pretended not to notice you. But tell the truth? Not only did I not forget about you after your impudent cry, but I went cold from the sudden hatred for you. And I already had to use efforts to pretend that I did not notice you, and continue to play the role of calm and reasonable. But the matter did not end there either. You screamed again. He shouted, completely forgetting about us and completely surrendering to what was going on in your soul overflowing with life - he shouted with such a ringing cry of causeless, divine joy that the Lord God himself would have smiled at this cry. I jumped up from my chair in a rage. - Stop doing that! I suddenly barked, unexpectedly for myself, at the top of my lungs. What the devil doused me at that moment with a whole tub of anger? My mind went haywire. And you should have seen how your face trembled, how it was distorted for a moment by a lightning bolt of horror! - A! - you shouted loudly and bewilderedly again. And already without any joy, but only to show that you were not afraid, crookedly and pathetically hit the floor with your heels. And I - I rushed to you, pulled you by the hand, so much so that you rolled over in front of me like a top, slapped you hard and with pleasure and, pushing you out of the room, slammed the door. Here are the numbers for you!

IV

From pain, from a sharp and sudden insult that so rudely struck you in the heart in one of the most joyful moments of your childhood, you flew out the door and rolled into such a terrible, such a piercing viola, which no singer in the world is capable of. And for a long, long time he froze ... Then he took even more air into his lungs and raised the viola already to an incredible height ... Then the pauses between the top and bottom notes began to shorten, and the screams flowed incessantly. Sobs were added to the screams, cries for help were added to the sobs. Your consciousness began to clear up, and you began to play, with painful pleasure, to play the role of a dying person. - Oh, it hurts! Oh, mommy, I'm dying! "You probably won't die," I said coldly. - Shout, shout, and shut up. But you didn't stop. The conversation, of course, ended. I was already ashamed, and I lit a cigarette without raising my eyes to my grandmother. And grandmother's lips and eyebrows suddenly trembled, and, turning away to the window, she began to quickly, quickly beat the table with a teaspoon. "Terrible spoiled child!" - said mother, frowning and trying to be impartial, and again took up her knitting. - Terribly spoiled! — Oh, grandma! Oh my dear grandmother! you yelled in a wild voice, calling now to the last refuge - to your grandmother. And grandma barely sat still. Her heart was torn to the nursery, but, to please my mother and me, she braced herself, looked out from under quivering eyebrows at the darkening street and quickly pounded her spoon on the table. Then you also understood that we decided not to give up, that no one would quench your pain and resentment with kisses, pleas for forgiveness. Yes, there weren't enough tears. You drunk your sobs to the point of exhaustion, your childish grief, with which, perhaps, not a single human grief can be compared, but it was impossible to stop the screams at once, if only because of pride alone. It was clear to hear: you no longer want to scream, your voice is hoarse and breaks, there are no tears. But you kept screaming and screaming! It was unbearable for me too. I wanted to get up from my seat, open the door to the nursery and immediately, with one hot word, stop your suffering. But is this consistent with the rules of a reasonable upbringing and with the dignity of a just, albeit strict, uncle? Finally you are quiet...

V

- And we immediately reconciled? you ask. No, I still survived the character. I, at least half an hour after you calmed down, looked into the nursery. And how? I went to the door, made a serious face and opened it with a look as if I had some business. And at that time you were already returning, little by little, to everyday life. You sat on the floor, occasionally twitching from the deep, intermittent sighs that are common in children after a long cry, and with a face darkened from smeared tears, you amused yourself with your unpretentious toys - empty boxes of matches - placing them on the floor, between your spread legs, in some kind of , only you know the order. How my heart sank at the sight of these boxes! But, pretending that our relations were interrupted, that I was offended by you, I hardly looked at you. I carefully and sternly examined the windowsills, the tables... Where is my cigarette case?... And I was about to go out, when suddenly you raised your head and, looking at me with angry, contemptuous eyes, said hoarsely: “Now I will never love you again. Then he thought, he wanted to say something else very offensive, but he stumbled, could not be found, and said the first thing that came to mind: And I will never buy you anything. - Please! I casually replied with a shrug. - Please! I wouldn't take anything from such a bad boy. - Even the Japanese penny, which I then gave, I will take back! you shouted in a thin, trembling voice, making one last attempt to stab me. “But this is really not good at all!” I replied. Give and then take away! However, that's your business. Then your mother and grandmother came to you. And just like me, at first they pretended that they entered by chance ... on business ... make sure no one likes them. And they ended up advising you to come to me and ask my forgiveness. “Otherwise, my uncle will get angry and leave for Moscow,” my grandmother said in a sad tone. And he will never come to us again. - And let him not come! You answered in a barely audible voice, lowering your head lower and lower. “Well, I’m going to die,” Grandmother said even more sadly, not at all thinking about what cruel means she uses to make you break your pride. “And die,” you replied in a gloomy whisper. - Good! I said, feeling irritated again. - Good! I repeated, puffing on a cigarette and looking out the window at the dark, empty street. And, after waiting until the elderly, thin maid, always silent and sad from the knowledge that she was the driver's widow, lit a lamp in the dining room, he added: - That's the boy! "Don't pay any attention to him," said Mama, looking under the frosted cap of the lamp to see if he was smoking. - You want to talk to such a snarky one! And we pretended that we completely forgot about you.

VI

The fire had not yet been lit in the nursery, and the panes of its windows now seemed blue-blue. The winter evening lay behind them, and it was gloomy and sad in the nursery. You sat on the floor and moved the boxes. And these boxes tormented me. I got up and decided to wander around the city. But then I heard the whisper of my grandmother. "Shameless, shameless!" she whispered reproachfully. - Uncle loves you, brings you toys, gifts ... I interrupted loudly. “Grandma, you shouldn’t say that. It's too much. This is not about hotels. But Grandma knew what she was doing. - Why not in hotels? she replied. - The hotel is not expensive, but the memory is expensive. And, after a pause, she hit the most sensitive string of your heart: - And who will buy him a pencil case, papers, a book with pictures now? What a penalty! Penal - back and forth. What about numbers? After all, you can't buy this for any amount of money. However,” she added, “do as you please.” Sit here alone in the dark. And she left the nursery. It's over - your pride has been broken! You have been defeated. The more unrealizable the dream, the more captivating, the more captivating, the more unrealizable. I already know it. From my earliest days I have been in her power. But I also know that the more my dream is dearer to me, the less hope I have of achieving it. And I've been at war with her for a long time. I am lying: I pretend that I am indifferent. But what could you do? Happiness, happiness! You opened your eyes in the morning, filled with a thirst for happiness. And with a childish credulity, with an open heart, he rushed to life: hurry, hurry! But life answered:- Be patient. - Oh please! you exclaimed passionately. "Shut up or you won't get anything!" - Well, wait a minute! You shouted angrily. And silent for a while. But your heart was beating. You raged, knocked down chairs with a roar, kicked the floor, screamed loudly from the joyful thirst that overwhelmed your heart ... Then life from all its might struck you in the heart with a blunt knife of resentment. And you rolled into a frantic cry of pain, a call for help. But even here not a single muscle on the face of life trembled... Humble yourself, humble yourself! And you reconciled.

VII

Do you remember how timidly you came out of the nursery and what you said to me? - Uncle! - you said to me, exhausted by the struggle for happiness and still craving it. “Uncle, forgive me. And give me at least a drop of that happiness, the thirst for which torments me so sweetly. But life is touchy. She made a feigned sad face. - Numbers! I understand that this is happiness ... But you do not love your uncle, you upset him ... - No, it's not true - I love it, I love it very much! you exclaimed hotly. And life finally had mercy. - Well, God bless you! Bring a chair here to the table, give me pencils, paper ... And with what joy your eyes shone! How hard you have been! How afraid you were to anger me, how submissive, delicate, and careful you tried to be in your every move! And how eagerly you caught my every word! Breathing deeply from excitement, constantly slobbering a pencil stub, with what diligence you leaned on the table with your chest and twisted your head, drawing mysterious lines full of some kind of divine meaning! Now I also enjoyed your joy, tenderly smelling the smell of your hair: children's hair smells good, just like little birds. “One... Two... Five...” you said, drawing with difficulty over the paper. — No, not like that. One two three four. “Now, now,” you said hastily. - I first: one, two ... And he looked at me in confusion. Well, three... Yes, yes, three! You accepted happily. - I know. And output three, like a big capital letter E. 1906
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