Summary of the story date. Notes from a hunter: Date. Essays by topic

The author of the story becomes an accidental witness to the farewell scene between the peasant girl Akulina and the master's servant Victor, whom she respectfully calls by his patronymic - Alexandrovich. The servant behaves boorishly with the girl who is in love with him, pretending to be a master. Tomorrow he must leave for the capital, and then abroad, where, of course, there is everything that Akulina never dreamed of, in his opinion. The girl suffers, regrets the time spent on this ungrateful man, this evokes the sympathy of the author, who even betrays his presence. The author picks up flowers forgotten by her and keeps them for a long time, feeling sorry for her and other girls deceived by their appearance and fairy tales of low people.

the main idea

The story shows a real, strong and noble feeling aimed at an unworthy person who failed to dispose of it, but mixed it with dirt. Akulina was waiting for only one kind word from her former friend, and he showed off, but at the same time was afraid of her sincere feelings.

Read summary Turgenev Date

The story begins with a description of a girl. The hunter admired her - her beauty and health, harmony. A simple girl does not look simple. It can be seen that she is tensely waiting for someone, sorting through the collected flowers. She still hears steps, a voice... but there is no one who has become dearer to her than anyone else.

Finally he appears. And the author immediately sees that this is an unworthy person. The writer, showing the handsome and dapper appearance of the stranger, regrets that women often like “that kind.” Yes, and this dandy in a dress from the lord’s shoulder (with pretensions to style) behaves without a care. Apparently, he was late on purpose, he yawns, stretches, complains about the weather, and speaks in a mannered manner - “on the nose.” It is clear that this scoundrel deceived Akulina, considering her unworthy of himself. Victor also advises her to behave well! As a result, the girl burst into tears. Shrugging his shoulders, Victor left, and the writer rushed to console Akulina.

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Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev

DATE

I was sitting in a birch grove in the fall, around mid-September. From the very morning there was a light rain, replaced at times by warm sunshine; the weather was changeable. The sky was either covered with loose white clouds, then suddenly cleared in places for a moment, and then, from behind the parted clouds, azure appeared, clear and gentle, like a beautiful eye. I sat and looked around and listened. The leaves rustled slightly above my head; by their noise alone one could find out what time of year it was then. It was not the cheerful, laughing trembling of spring, not the soft whispering, not the long chatter of summer, not the timid and cold babbling of late autumn, but barely audible, drowsy chatter. A weak wind pulled slightly over the tops. The interior of the grove, wet from the rain, was constantly changing, depending on whether the sun was shining or covered by a cloud; She then lit up all over, as if suddenly everything in her smiled: the thin trunks of the not too common birch trees suddenly took on the delicate glow of white silk, the small leaves lying on the ground suddenly dazzled and lit up with red gold, and the beautiful stems of tall curly ferns, already painted in their autumn color , like the color of overripe grapes, they showed through, endlessly getting confused and intersecting before our eyes; then suddenly everything around turned slightly blue again: the bright colors instantly faded, the birches stood all white, without shine, white, like freshly fallen snow, which had not yet been touched by the coldly playing ray of the winter sun; and stealthily, slyly, the smallest rain began to sow and whisper through the forest. The foliage on the birches was still almost all green, although noticeably paler; only here and there stood one, young, all red or all gold, I should have seen how she flashed brightly in the sun when its rays suddenly broke through, sliding and mottled, through the dense network of thin branches, just washed away by the sparkling rain. Not a single bird was heard: everyone took refuge and fell silent; only occasionally did the mocking voice of a tit ring like a steel bell. Before I stopped in this birch forest, my dog ​​and I walked through a tall aspen grove. I confess that I am not too fond of this tree - the aspen - with its pale lilac trunk and grey-green, metallic foliage, which it lifts as high as possible and spreads out in the air like a trembling fan; I don’t like the eternal swaying of its round, untidy leaves, clumsily attached to long stems. It is good only on certain summer evenings, when, rising separately among the low bushes, it faces the glowing rays of the setting sun and shines and trembles, covered from roots to top with the same yellow crimson - or when, on a clear windy day, it is all noisy flows and babbles in the blue sky, and each leaf of it, caught up in aspiration, seems to want to break loose, fly off and rush off into the distance. But in general I don’t like this tree, and therefore, without stopping in the aspen grove to rest, I reached a birch forest, nestled under one tree, whose branches began low above the ground and, therefore, could protect me from the rain, and, admiring the surrounding view , fell asleep in that serene and gentle sleep that is familiar to only hunters.

I can’t say how long I slept, but when I opened my eyes, the entire interior of the forest was filled with the sun and in all directions, through the joyfully rustling leaves, the bright blue sky seemed to sparkle; the clouds disappeared, dispersed by the rushing wind; the weather had cleared, and there was that special, dry freshness in the air that, filling the heart with some kind of cheerful feeling, almost always predicts a peaceful and clear evening after a stormy day. I was about to get up and try my luck again, when suddenly my eyes stopped on a motionless human image. I took a closer look: it was a young peasant girl. She sat twenty paces from me, bowing her head thoughtfully and dropping both hands on her knees; on one of them, half open, lay a thick bunch of wildflowers and with every breath it quietly slid onto her plaid skirt. A clean white shirt, buttoned at the throat and wrists, lay in short soft folds near her waist; large yellow beads descended in two rows from the neck to the chest. She was very pretty. Thick blond hair of a beautiful ash color spread out in two carefully combed semicircles from under a narrow scarlet bandage pulled almost to the very forehead, white as ivory; the rest of her face was barely tanned by that golden tan that only thin skin takes on. I couldn't see her eyes - she didn't raise them; but I clearly saw her thin, high eyebrows, her long eyelashes: they were wet, and on one of her cheeks the dried trace of a tear shone in the sun, stopping at the very lips, which were slightly pale. Her whole head was very cute; even a slightly thick and round nose did not spoil her. I especially liked the expression on her face: it was so simple and meek, so sad and so full of childish bewilderment at her own sadness. She was apparently waiting for someone; something faintly crunched in the forest: she immediately raised her head and looked around; in the transparent shadow her eyes quickly flashed before me, large, bright and timid, like a deer’s. She listened for several moments, keeping her wide-open eyes on the place where the faint sound was heard, sighed, quietly turned her head, bent even lower and began to slowly sort through the flowers. Her eyelids turned red, her lips moved bitterly, and a new tear rolled from under her thick eyelashes, stopping and sparkling radiantly on her cheek. Quite a long time passed like this; the poor girl did not move, she only moved her hands sadly from time to time and listened, listened to everything... Again something rustled in the forest - she perked up. The noise did not stop, became more distinct, got closer, and finally decisive, nimble steps were heard. She straightened up and seemed timid; her attentive gaze trembled and lit up with anticipation. The figure of a man quickly flashed through the thicket. She took a closer look, suddenly flushed, smiled joyfully and happily, wanted to get up, and immediately fell all over again, turned pale, embarrassed - and only then raised a trembling, almost pleading look at the man who had come, when he stopped next to her.

I looked at him curiously from my ambush. I admit, he did not make a pleasant impression on me. This was, by all indications, the spoiled valet of a young, rich master. His clothes revealed pretension to taste and dandy negligence: he was wearing a short bronze-colored coat, probably from a lord's shoulder, buttoned to the top, a pink tie with purple tips and a velvet black cap with gold braid, pulled down to his very eyebrows. The round collars of his white shirt mercilessly propped up his ears and cut his cheeks, and his starched mittens covered his entire hand right down to his red and crooked fingers, decorated with silver and gold rings with turquoise forget-me-nots. His face, ruddy, fresh, impudent, belonged to the number of faces that, as far as I could notice, almost always outrage men and, unfortunately, very often appeal to women. He apparently tried to give his rough features an expression of contempt and boredom; constantly squinted his already tiny, petty-gray eyes, winced, lowered the corners of his lips, yawned forcedly, and with a careless, although not entirely deft, ease, he either straightened his reddish, jauntily curled temples with his hand, or plucked the yellow hairs sticking out on his thick upper lip - in a word, it was unbearably broken. He began to break down as soon as he saw the young peasant woman waiting for him; Slowly, with a lounging step, he approached her, stood there, shrugged his shoulders, put both hands in his coat pockets and, barely deigning the poor girl with a cursory and indifferent glance, sank to the ground.

One autumn day, in mid-September, I sat in a birch grove and admired the fine day. Unnoticed by myself, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I saw a peasant girl, she was sitting 20 steps away from me with a bunch of wildflowers in her hand, her head bowed thoughtfully. The girl was not bad-looking. Her thick, ash-colored blond hair was held in place by a narrow scarlet bandage pulled over her white forehead. She did not raise her eyes, but I saw her thin, high eyebrows and long wet eyelashes. On one of her cheeks the trace of a tear glistened in the sun. The expression on her face was meek, simple and sad, full of childish bewilderment in the face of this sadness.

She was waiting for someone. Something crunched in the forest, and her eyes flashed in the shadows, large, bright and timid, like a deer’s. Footsteps were heard in the distance, and a young man came out into the clearing, whom the girl met, trembling with joy. By all indications, he was the spoiled valet of a rich master. His clothes exposed pretension to taste and dandy negligence. His red and crooked fingers were adorned with silver and gold rings with turquoise forget-me-nots. His face, ruddy, fresh and impudent, belonged to those faces that women very often like. He grimaced unbearably, trying to give his stupid face a contemptuous and bored expression.

I overheard their conversation. This was Viktor Alexandrovich’s last meeting with Akulina - tomorrow his master was leaving for service in St. Petersburg. Akulina gave him a bouquet of blue cornflowers. Victor turned the flowers in his fingers with thoughtful importance, and Akulina looked at him with reverent submission and love. On his face, through the feigned indifference, blasé pride was visible.

Soon Victor got ready to leave. Akulina began to cry. She was afraid that she would be passed off as a disgraceful person. Victor was annoyed by her tears. He stated that he could not marry her. At the same time, he emphasized in every possible way that she was not educated, and therefore unworthy of him. The girl wanted to hear a kind word from her beloved goodbye, but she never received it. She fell face down into the grass and cried bitterly. Victor stood over her, shrugged his shoulders in annoyance and left.

She jumped up to run after him, but her legs gave way and she fell to her knees. I couldn't stand it and rushed to her. Seeing me, she screamed weakly and ran away, leaving scattered flowers on the ground. I returned home, but the image of poor Akulina did not leave my head for a long time. I still have her cornflowers.

Option 2

In this story, a farewell meeting of two young people takes place in the forest. And by coincidence, at the same time, a hunter is sleeping near the place of their meeting and, upon waking up, becomes an involuntary witness.

Waking up, he sees a young peasant girl sadly sitting under a tree, her hands limply dropped on her knees. On her head is a wreath of flowers. She is waiting for someone, sighing and leisurely sorting through the flowers in the bouquet and shedding crystal-shiny tears flowing down her cheek. The girl suddenly perked up when she saw the silhouette of a man flashing in the thicket. He, seeing the girl, approached hesitantly and, it seemed, sat down next to her.

Judging by his loose and arrogant behavior, manifested in indifferent yawning, carelessness, and general indifference to the appointment, which he almost forgot, he is a self-confident and ill-mannered person. Hearing the words about the man’s departure, the girl begins to cry bitterly, and he tries to leave.

Akulina gives him a bouquet, Victor takes it and casually twirls it in his hands. Not a single gentle word is heard from his lips. He has nothing to say to the girl, considering it almost humiliating for himself. She asks him to wait a little. But he is adamant and declares that he has long said goodbye to her. Akulina burst into tears, burying her face in the grass. She could no longer contain the accumulated grief. Victor looked at the girl indifferently, and then quickly got up and left.

Akulina is a young, beautiful peasant girl with blond hair, a light forehead, long eyelashes and high thin eyebrows. And Victor is a valet spoiled by life, with a ruddy and fresh face, with clearly evident impudence. He is characterized by squinting of his narrow eyes and a forced and disgusted yawn.

This work contains deep lyrical notes, creating a light and beautiful image of a beautiful peasant girl, shamelessly deceived by a young rogue.

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It was time for me to leave for Moscow; it was mid-September, but the autumn was so clear and warm that I decided to postpone the things that awaited me upon my return and let myself fully enjoy walks through the nearby forests.

One of my favorite places for such walks was a birch grove. The transparent blue of the sky was so pleasing to the eye that I spread my jacket on the ground and began to admire the heavenly landscape. The sun was warm like summer, I was tired, and I involuntarily fell asleep.

When I woke up, I found that my privacy had been violated. Not far from me sat a girl who was thoughtfully twirling a bouquet of wildflowers in her hands, a farewell gift from the past summer.

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The thick, tall grass prevented her from noticing me right away. Moreover, my stranger was immersed in deep sadness, as evidenced by the tears that she wiped from her cheeks from time to time.

Nothing stopped me from admiring my find. She was a peasant woman of about twenty with the most innocent expression on her sweet face. Her mouth was in the shape of a heart. But she constantly pursed her lips sadly, which took my thoughts away from the playful mood. I could not carefully examine her eyes, but I saw the beautiful design of her high eyebrows and long eyelashes. Above her high forehead was a narrow scarlet ribbon, supporting her thick hair of a superb ash color. She was listening to something all the time, which gave me reason to decide that our involuntary privacy with her would be violated.

And indeed, soon a branch crunched, and a tall young man came out into the clearing. By his clothes one could recognize him as the valet of a wealthy landowner, which in fact became clear from the conversation I overheard. His fingers were decorated with rings with turquoise forget-me-nots. It was clear that the young man was not without panache. In addition, he was the owner of a pretty face, from which a somewhat contemptuous expression never left. However, women often like such fresh and rosy faces. So my peasant girl rushed to him, not paying any attention to his impudent and proud smile. With the most tender expression on her face, she handed him the bouquet.

From the conversation it became clear that Victor and his master were leaving for St. Petersburg, that this was his last meeting with Akulina. The girl was crying. Wringing her hands, she told about her fears that after the Intercession she might be given in marriage to a guy from a neighboring village. He comes from a rich family, but she was disgusted with him. Victor irritably told her that he could not marry and had never promised anything like that to Akulina. Then, with the most arrogant expression, he declared that even if he were going to get married, his chosen one would be a city girl, sophisticated, who knew manners, and not a dark hillbilly. To this confession of his, Akulina only cried out weakly and pitifully extended her hands to her deity. But he shrugged his shoulder in annoyance and quickly walked away, without really saying goodbye. The bouquet was carelessly thrown away by him.

Akulina started to rush after her, but tripped and fell. I couldn't stand it and stood up, revealing my presence. Seeing me, the girl screamed and rushed headlong away.

God knows why I didn't catch up with her. But, it’s true, consciousness stopped me. that I couldn’t fix or help anything.

The charm of a wonderful day faded for me, and I hurried home.

When I returned, I found a letter from an old friend of mine, urgently urging me to return as soon as possible. I told them to get ready to leave.

However, the bouquet I picked up at the same time still decorates my office, and the image of the unfortunate Akulina, no, no, even pops up in my memory.

Updated: 2013-08-21

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The author of the story, who is also the main character of “Notes of a Hunter,” sat in a birch grove around mid-September and observed the surrounding nature. Her condition then was typical of autumn. The grove became dull and damp as soon as the sun set, and, on the contrary, blossomed from the rays penetrating into it. The hunter enjoyed what he saw. Captivated by lyrical reflections, he fell asleep under one of the trees.

I woke up when the weather completely changed and the entire grove was engulfed in a stream of light. The hunter suddenly saw a peasant woman. She was sitting in deep

Sadness. She was young and pretty. Traces of tears were frozen on her face, and it was as if she was always waiting for someone, sensitively reacting to every sound of the noisy birch grove.

The hero was especially touched by her expression on her face - meek, childishly frightened, filled with undisguised sadness. She didn't move at all. And so a lot of time passed until the noise of an approaching man was heard. The one she was waiting for appeared. And on her face there is happiness, and then again fear and despondency. As if she had a premonition of what awaited her. The appearance of the man who appeared disappointed the unwitting witness of this meeting.

There was nothing outstanding about him - the most

An ordinary face, but with a rude, “impudent” and lazy-indifferent expression. Such, the author notes, usually irritate men and magnetically attract women. This was a capricious valet, perfectly aware of the full extent of the girl’s love and not experiencing reciprocal feelings for her. He barely made eye contact with her and began his conversation casually. He said that there was a lot to do, and even rain... And casually he dropped that he and the master were leaving tomorrow. The news plunged the girl into despair. She called her lover by his first and patronymic name - Viktor Alexandrych. She asked when they would see each other again and heard an absent-minded: “See you, see you...” But he and the master will go to St. Petersburg, and there, perhaps, abroad.

From the conversation, the hunter learned that the girl’s name was Akulina. She confessed her love to the young man, which was no longer news to him. And she asked what she should do now. The answer was simple: you are not stupid, but you have no education, and therefore you must obey your father. Victor took the wilted bouquet of cornflowers from her hands, twirled them in his hands and thought about his own thoughts, looking at the sky. At that moment, Akulina began to examine him, and tenderness, fear of losing her beloved and admiration for him merged in her gaze. He twirled a lorgnette in his hands, bragging about his future life in St. Petersburg, about how everything worked there. And he added that she couldn’t understand all this. To this she noticed that before he spoke to her completely differently. She began to beg him to say at least a word to her. But he was adamant.

In the end, the valet got tired of the conversation and left. Akulina burst into tears. The hunter could not stand this picture and, in a fit of pity, ran out to her. The girl screamed, dropped the flowers and ran away. The farewell beauty of autumn nature echoed what was happening. The hero returned home, but for a long time he still remembered the unfortunate Akulina.

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