What external event gave birth to the legend of the larre. Online reading of the book Old Woman Izergil I. M. Gorky: briefly about the writer

The story of Old Woman Izergil begins with the story of Larra, the young and strong son of an eagle, who did not want to put up with human laws and became an outcast. In the image of Larra, Gorky describes embodied pride and arrogance, this man (Larra) fancies himself above all other people, and this is his main tragedy, as Gorky says through the mouth of one of the elders in this story.

Of course, Gorky teaches his readers quite edifyingly to give up pride and look for humility in their own souls, but he does not give the necessary answers why exactly this should be done. After all, Larra is the son of an eagle, he is initially different from people, he is initially more dexterous, strong and can take possession of everything he wants. Therefore, he claims the recognition of the girl, and then claims other benefits that the tribe possesses and takes the right one.

A dialogue takes place between the elder and Larra, in which he asks him about attracting a girl to himself and Larra asks if people don’t own more than they originally have and isn’t it normal to want something more than own body and one's own speech, which are given to everyone at their disposal. The elder quite wisely answers about the payment that each person makes, for any benefit he receives, he pays with strength or intelligence, sometimes with himself. At the same time, Gorky misses a completely obvious development of this idea.

After all, Larra can pay for all this and, moreover, can pay better than many, he is rightfully proud. Don't the best, and sometimes just the strongest, those who decide to usurp power not become rulers in the tribe? Such is the human order, so why would people not make Larra their ruler if they are guided by a reasonable payment for various benefits.

After all, Larra could pay for his own power better than others, and perhaps he would be a very worthy ruler, since who, if not the ruler, imagines himself better than the rest, rise above them and keep pride in his soul? However, people reject him, dooming him to an eternal existence in solitude and oblivion. Such a result turns out to be tragic for the proud son of the eagle, and he seeks death, but is doomed to eternal wanderings.

Of course, Gorky created the antithesis of Danko, who completes the story and made a moralizing story. However, in my opinion, some elements of this story are not quite finalized and contradictory. I really want to learn some lesson from the story of the proud Larra, although in the end only doubts appear.

Practical experience speaks of the benefits of imitating such a hero, for someone Larra can even become a kind of ideal, since, unlike Danko, he does not deny himself anything and really rises above people in many respects. Isn't it the feeling of superiority over others that most people seek? Is it not pride that governs their actions?

Although, of course, if we consider the essence of such people in more detail, then they really are a punishment for themselves. They carry within themselves their own vices, which they can never part with.

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Composition

M. Gorky began to write his first stories in the 90s of the nineteenth century. It was a time of rapid development of capitalism in Russia. The impoverished and hungry village moved to the city in search of work and a piece of bread, the peasants joined the ranks of the tramps, whose life the future writer knew well during his wanderings around Rus'.
The work of M. Gorky of those years is romantic in nature, reflecting the desire of the people to a better life.
One of the most the best stories The romantic period in the writer's work is the story "Old Woman Izergil" written in 1895. The pathos of this work is the assertion of freedom and will as the main and only value. But the writer stands up not for the personal freedom of a person, although it is also very important for him, but most of all for the freedom of the whole people, for a just social system, for a decent and happy life all the people of his long-suffering country.
In The Old Woman Izergil, Gorky turns to the genre literary legend, because it enables the author to briefly, succinctly, vividly and impressively sing of all the best that can be in a person and condemn vice. The writer's favorite hero Danko sacrificed himself to save his people. His antipode Larra sacrifices those around him to achieve his selfish goals, to assert his personal freedom.
Danko is an altruist, Larra is an egoist. On this opposition, i.e. with the help of antithesis, the main idea of ​​the story about the meaning of life is revealed: the perniciousness of extreme individualism and the greatness of the feat of a fighter for the freedom of the people.
The legend of Larra is included in the first part of the story, but is a complete work, inextricably linked with common theme and idea. The old woman Izergil herself told the story of the terrible fate of Larra. She probably heard the legend from her mother, and she heard it from hers, that's how it lives instructive tale a thousand years, warning people against the evil of selfishness and indifference. The legend begins with a peculiar beginning, which turns into an exposition: “Many thousands of years have passed since the time when this happened. Far beyond the sea, at sunrise, there is a country of a large river ... a powerful tribe of people lived there, they grazed herds and spent their strength and courage on hunting for animals, feasted after hunting, sang songs and played with girls.
Larra is the son of a woman and an eagle. His mother brought him to people in the hope that he would live happily among his kind. Larra was the same as everyone else, "only his eyes were cold and proud, like those of the king of birds." The young man did not respect anyone, did not listen to anyone, behaved arrogantly and proudly. There was both strength and beauty in him, but he repelled him with pride and coldness. Larra behaved among people, as animals behave in a herd, where everything is allowed to the strongest. He kills the "obstinate" girl right in front of the whole tribe, not knowing that by doing so he signs a sentence for himself to be rejected for the rest of his life. Angry people decided that: “The punishment for him is in himself!” They let him go, gave him freedom.
Nature in Gorky's romantic works lives and breathes, sympathizes and resents. The author always uses the method of personification, which helps him to convey the "general state of mind of the moment", the experiences of the characters. As soon as people decided to release Lara: “Thunder struck from heaven, although there were no clouds on them. It was the powers of heaven that confirmed the speech of the wise…”.
Gorky uses various figurative means. Hyperbole (excessive exaggeration): "They shot at him, but the arrows could not pierce his body, covered with an invisible cover of the highest punishment." Vivid metaphors: “There was so much longing in his eyes that one could poison all the people of the world with it ...”.
Larra also performs "feats" that require determination and fearlessness, he is firm in defending his right to "be the first on earth." But all his strength and aspirations are only for his personal benefit. The result is confusion and loneliness.
Earth and sky, life and death receded from Larra. Now life for him is a continuous torment, since the most inveterate egoist and self-lover cannot bear eternal loneliness. He roams the world like a gloomy shadow, turning into darkness and horror. He left not warmth, not fire, not sparks of goodness on earth, but emptiness and fear.
The heroes of Gorky's romantic works are exceptional people. The positive hero is the bearer of all virtues, the negative hero is the bearer of all vices. Danko is a handsome young man. Izergil says that beautiful people are always brave. But Larra is also handsome and brave. Their difference is that Danko is harmonious, he is beautiful internally and externally. Larra is internally ugly. The criterion of beauty or ugliness is the ability to love. Danko is endowed with an exceptional love for people, Larra - an exceptional love for himself.
“This is how a man was struck for his pride,” concludes the story about Larra the Old Woman Izergil. Reading the legend, we constantly feel the presence of this wise storyteller, her view on the behavior of the characters. Gorky uses the "story within a story" technique, because it gives great poetry and originality to the narrative. Izergil is not only an excellent storyteller, but also wise with experience, bold and bold in his own way. open man.
The legend is framed by a beautiful landscape of the southern night. It evokes thoughts of eternity, beauty, harmony of the world and love, sacrificial, sincere, overcoming all obstacles.

Other writings on this work

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The story "Old Woman Izergil" refers to the early romantic works of A.M. Gorky. In form, this work represents three short stories connected by a common idea, or rather by the question: what does a person live for?

Gorky begins an attempt to answer this question with the legend of Larra, the son of a woman and an eagle. The mother brought a handsome and strong young man to the people in the hope that he would live happily among his own kind. Larra was the same as everyone else, "only his eyes were cold and proud, like those of the king of birds." Gradually, the author, using the words of an old storyteller, paints a portrait of an arrogant egoist and a proud man with an exorbitant craving for personal freedom.

Larra was sure that he, the son of an eagle, was higher than other people and everything was permitted to him: “... they talked to him, and he answered if he wanted, or was silent, and when the oldest tribes came, he spoke to them as equals yourself. It offended them..." Larra's selfishness and cruelty are fully revealed in the episode when he does not hesitate to kill a girl who does not want to be with him. “She pushed him away, and went away, and he hit her and, when she fell, stood with his foot on her chest, so that blood splashed from her mouth to the sky, the girl, sighing, wriggled like a snake and died.” Killing the "obstinate" girl in front of the whole tribe, Larra believes that everything is allowed to him, the son of an eagle, and no one and nothing can limit his personal freedom. The angry people of the tribe did not debunk his delusions, deciding that: “The punishment for him is in himself!”. They released Larra, gave him freedom, complete and limitless, but outside of human society. This sentence turned out to be so severe that Larra eventually became weary of priceless gifts - freedom and immortality. By his behavior, he doomed himself to eternal torment, and when Larra wanted to die, even the earth did not accept him: “... he fell to the ground and beat his head against it for a long time. But the earth moved away from him.

Telling the legend of Larr, Gorky leads readers to the idea that individualism and selfishness will lead to a dead end in life path. Larra had both strength, and beauty, and courage, but he repelled him with pride and coldness. He did not respect anyone, did not listen to anyone, behaved arrogantly and proudly, lived for himself and for his own sake. The price of such an attitude towards people is loneliness, which has become a cross for Larra, from which there is no escape.

See also: Video lesson on the story of M. Gorky "Old Woman Izergil".

Old Isergil
Maksim Gorky

Maxim Gorky wrote his famous story "Old Woman Izergil" in 1894. It includes two wonderful legends: the legend of Larra and the legend of Danko.

First published in "Samarskaya gazeta", 1895, number 80, April 16; number 86, April 23; number 89, 27 April.

Apparently written in the autumn of 1894. The dating is confirmed by a letter from V.G. Korolenko dated October 4, 1894 to M.A. Sablin, a member of the editorial board of Russkiye Vedomosti. In this letter, V.G. Korolenko wrote: “Three days ago I sent the manuscript of Peshkov (pseudo-Maxim Gorky) to the editor, with the title “Old Woman Izergil”.”

The story was included in all collected works.

Published according to the text prepared by M. Gorky for the collected works in the edition "Book".

Maksim Gorky

Old Isergil

I heard these stories near Akkerman, in Bessarabia, on the seashore.

One evening, after finishing the day’s grape harvest, the party of Moldavians with whom I worked went to the seashore, and I and the old woman Izergil remained under the dense shade of the vines and, lying on the ground, were silent, watching the silhouettes of those melt in the blue darkness of the night. people who went to the sea.

They walked and sang and laughed; men - bronze, with lush, black mustaches and thick curls to the shoulders, in short jackets and wide trousers; women and girls - cheerful, flexible, with dark blue eyes, also bronze. Their hair, silk and black, was loose, the wind, warm and light, playing with them, jingled with the coins woven into them. The wind flowed in a wide, even wave, but sometimes it seemed to jump over something invisible and, giving rise to a strong gust, fluttered the women's hair into fantastic manes that billowed around their heads. It made women strange and fabulous. They moved farther and farther from us, and night and fantasy dressed them more and more beautifully.

Someone was playing the violin... the girl sang in a soft contralto, laughter was heard...

The air was saturated with the pungent smell of the sea and the greasy fumes of the earth, shortly before evening, abundantly moistened with rain. Even now fragments of clouds roamed the sky, lush, of strange shapes and colors, here - soft, like puffs of smoke, gray and ash-blue, there - sharp, like fragments of rocks, dull black or brown. Between them, dark blue patches of sky glittered affectionately, adorned with golden flecks of stars. All this - sounds and smells, clouds and people - was strangely beautiful and sad, it seemed like the beginning of a wonderful fairy tale. And everything, as it were, stopped in its growth, died; the noise of voices died away, receding into mournful sighs.

Why didn't you go with them? - Nodding her head, asked the old woman Izergil.

Time had bent her in half, her once black eyes were dull and watery. Her dry voice sounded strange, it crunched like an old woman talking with her bones.

“I don’t want to,” I told her.

- U! .. you, Russians, will be born old men. Everyone is gloomy, like demons ... Our girls are afraid of you ... But you are young and strong ...

The moon has risen. Her disk was large, blood-red, she seemed to have come out of the bowels of this steppe, which in its lifetime had swallowed so much human meat and drank blood, which is probably why it became so fat and generous. Lacy shadows from the foliage fell on us, the old woman and I were covered with them, like a net. Across the steppe, to our left, the shadows of the clouds, saturated with the blue glow of the moon, floated, they became more transparent and brighter.

Look, Larra is coming!

I looked where the old woman was pointing with her trembling hand with crooked fingers, and I saw: shadows floated there, there were many of them, and one of them, darker and thicker than the others, swam faster and lower than the sisters - she fell from a patch of cloud, which swam closer to the ground than the others, and faster than them.

- Nobody's there! - I said.

“You are more blind than me, old woman. Look - out, dark, running through the steppe!

I looked again and again saw nothing but a shadow.

- It's a shadow! Why are you calling her Larra?

- Because it's him. He has already become like a shadow now - it's time! He lives for thousands of years, the sun dried up his body, blood and bones, and the wind pulverized them. This is what God can do to a man for pride! ..

- Tell me how it was! I asked the old woman, feeling ahead of me one of the glorious tales composed in the steppes.

And she told me this story.

“Many thousands of years have passed since the time when this happened. Far beyond the sea, at sunrise, there is a country of a large river, in that country every tree leaf and stalk of grass gives as much shade as a person needs to hide in it from the sun, cruelly hot there.

“What a generous land in that country! “A powerful tribe of people lived there, they grazed herds and spent their strength and courage on hunting for animals, feasted after the hunt, sang songs and played with girls.

“Once, during a feast, one of them, black-haired and tender as night, was carried away by an eagle descending from the sky. The arrows fired at him by the men fell miserably back to the ground. Then they went to look for the girl, but they did not find her. And they forgot about it, as they forget about everything on earth.

The old woman sighed and nodded. Her raspy voice sounded like it had been murmuring through all the forgotten ages, embodied in her chest as shadows of memories. The sea quietly echoed the beginning of one of the ancient legends that may have been created on its shores.

“But twenty years later she herself came, exhausted, withered, and with her was a young man, handsome and strong, as she herself was twenty years ago. And when they asked her where she was, she said that the eagle carried her to the mountains and lived with her there as with his wife. Here is his son, but the father is gone; when he began to weaken, he rose, for the last time, high into the sky and, folding his wings, fell heavily from there onto the sharp ledges of the mountain, crashed to death on them ...

“Everyone looked with surprise at the son of an eagle and saw that he was no better than them, only his eyes were cold and proud, like those of the king of birds. And they talked to him, and he answered if he wanted, or was silent, and when the oldest tribes came, he spoke to them as to his equals. This offended them, and they, calling him an unfinished arrow with an unsharpened tip, told him that they were honored, they were obeyed by thousands of his kind, and thousands twice his age. And he, boldly looking at them, answered that there were no others like him; and if everyone honors them, he does not want to do this. Oh! .. then they were completely angry. They got angry and said:

“He has no place among us! Let him go where he wants.

“He laughed and went where he wanted to - to one beautiful girl who was looking at him intently; He went to her and went up to her and hugged her. And she was the daughter of one of the elders who condemned him. And although he was handsome, she pushed him away because she was afraid of her father. She pushed him away and went away, and he hit her and, when she fell, stood with his foot on her chest, so that blood splashed from her mouth to the sky, the girl, sighing, coiled like a snake and died.

“Everyone who saw this was shackled with fear - for the first time in their presence a woman was killed like that. And for a long time everyone was silent, looking at her, lying with open eyes and a bloody mouth, and at him, who stood alone against everyone, next to her, and was proud, did not lower his head, as if calling punishment on her. Then, when they came to their senses, they grabbed him, tied him up and left him like that, finding that killing him right now was too easy and would not satisfy them.

The night grew and grew stronger, filled with strange quiet sounds. Gophers whistled sadly in the steppe, the glassy chatter of grasshoppers trembled in the foliage of grapes, the foliage sighed and whispered, the full disk of the moon, formerly blood-red, turned pale, moving away from the earth, turned pale and more and more abundantly poured a bluish haze onto the steppe ...

“And so they gathered to come up with an execution worthy of a crime ... They wanted to tear it apart with horses - and this seemed not enough to them; they thought of shooting everyone with an arrow at him, but they also rejected this; they offered to burn him, but the smoke of the fire would not allow him to see his torment; offered a lot - and did not find anything good enough to please everyone. And his mother knelt before them and was silent, finding neither tears nor words to beg for mercy. They talked for a long time, and then one wise man said, after thinking for a long time:

“Let’s ask him why he did it?

“We asked him about it. He said:

"Untie me! I won't say bound!

“And when they untied him, he asked:

"- What you need? - He asked as if they were slaves ...

“You heard…” said the sage.

“Why should I explain my actions to you?

“To be understood by us. You, proud, listen! It doesn't matter, you're going to die... Let us understand what you've done. We remain alive, and it is useful for us to know more than we know ...

“Very well, I will tell you, although perhaps I myself misunderstand what happened. I killed her because, it seems to me, she pushed me away ... And I needed her.

"But she's not yours! they told him.

“Do you only use your own? I see that each person has only speech, hands and feet ... and he owns animals, women, the earth ... and much more ...

“He was told that for everything that a person takes, he pays with himself: with his mind and strength, sometimes with his life. And he replied that he wanted to keep himself whole.

“We talked with him for a long time and finally saw that he considers himself the first on earth and, apart from himself, sees nothing. Everyone even became scared when they realized what kind of loneliness he doomed himself to. He had no tribe, no mother, no livestock, no wife, and he didn't want any of that.

“When people saw this, they again began to judge how to punish him. But now they did not speak for long, - he, the wise one, who did not interfere with their judgment, spoke himself:

“- Stop! There is a punishment. This is a terrible punishment; you won't invent something like that in a thousand years! His punishment is in himself! Let him go, let him be free. Here is his punishment!

“And then something great happened. Thunder struck from heaven, although there were no clouds on them. It was the powers of heaven that confirmed the speech of the wise. Everyone bowed and dispersed.

And this young man, who now received the name Larra, which means: outcast, thrown out, the young man laughed loudly after the people who abandoned him, laughed, remaining alone, free, like his father. But his father was not a man... But this one was a man. And so he began to live, free as a bird. He came to the tribe and stole cattle, girls - whatever he wanted. They shot at him, but the arrows could not pierce his body, covered with an invisible cover of the highest punishment. He was agile, predatory, strong, cruel and did not meet people face to face. Only saw him from a distance. And for a long time, alone, he hovered around people, for a long time - more than a dozen years. But one day he came close to people and when they rushed at him, he did not budge and did not show in any way that he would defend himself. Then one of the people guessed and shouted loudly:

"Don't touch him! He wants to die!

“And everyone stopped, not wanting to alleviate the fate of the one who did evil to them, not wanting to kill him. They stopped and laughed at him. And he trembled, hearing this laughter, and kept looking for something on his chest, clutching at it with his hands. And suddenly he rushed at the people, lifting a stone. But they, evading his blows, did not inflict a single one on him, and when he, tired, with a sad cry, fell to the ground, they stepped aside and watched him. So he stood up and, raising a knife lost by someone in the fight against him, hit himself in the chest with it. But the knife broke - they hit it like a stone. And again he fell to the ground and beat his head against it for a long time. But the ground pulled away from him, deepening from the blows of his head.

"He can't die! people said happily.

“And they left, leaving him. He lay face up and saw - high in the sky with black dots, mighty eagles swam. There was so much longing in his eyes that one could poison all the people of the world with it. So, from that time on, he was left alone, free, waiting for death. And now he walks, walks everywhere ... You see, he has already become like a shadow and will be like that forever! He doesn't understand people's speech, their actions, nothing. And he is looking for everything, walking, walking ... He has no life, and death does not smile at him. And there is no place for him among people ... That's how a man was struck for pride!

The old woman sighed, fell silent, and her head, sinking to her chest, swayed strangely several times.

I looked at her. The old woman was overcome by sleep, it seemed to me, and for some reason I felt terribly sorry for her. She ended the story in such a sublime, menacing tone, and yet there was a timid, slavish note in that tone.

They sang on the shore, they sang strangely. First, a contralto rang out - he sang two or three notes, and another voice rang out, starting the song all over again, and the first one kept pouring ahead of him ... - the third, fourth, fifth entered the song in the same order. And suddenly the same song, again at first, was sung by a choir of male voices.

Each voice of the women sounded completely separate, they all seemed like multi-colored streams and, as if rolling down from somewhere above along the ledges, jumping and ringing, merging into a thick wave of male voices that smoothly flowed upwards, they drowned in it, burst out of it, drowned it out and again one by one they soared, pure and strong, high into the air.

“Have you heard that they sang like that anywhere else?” Izergil asked, raising her head and smiling with her toothless mouth.

- Didn't hear it. Never heard...

And you won't hear. We love to sing. Only handsome men can sing well, handsome men who love to live. We love to live.

I heard these stories near Akkerman, in Bessarabia, on the seashore.

One evening, after finishing the day’s grape harvest, the party of Moldavians with whom I worked went to the seashore, and I and the old woman Izergil remained under the dense shade of the vines and, lying on the ground, were silent, watching the silhouettes of those melt in the blue darkness of the night. people who went to the sea.

They walked and sang and laughed; men - bronze, with lush, black mustaches and thick curls to the shoulders, in short jackets and wide trousers; women and girls - cheerful, flexible, with dark blue eyes, also bronze. Their hair, silk and black, was loose, the wind, warm and light, playing with them, jingled with the coins woven into them. The wind flowed in a wide, even wave, but sometimes it seemed to jump over something invisible and, giving rise to a strong gust, fluttered the women's hair into fantastic manes that billowed around their heads. It made women strange and fabulous. They moved further and further away from us, and night and fantasy dressed them more and more beautifully.

Someone was playing the violin... the girl sang in a soft contralto, laughter was heard...

The air was saturated with the pungent smell of the sea and the greasy fumes of the earth, shortly before evening, abundantly moistened with rain. Even now fragments of clouds roamed the sky, lush, of strange shapes and colors, here - soft, like puffs of smoke, gray and ash-blue, there - sharp, like fragments of rocks, dull black or brown. Between them, dark blue patches of sky glittered affectionately, adorned with golden flecks of stars. All this - sounds and smells, clouds and people - was strangely beautiful and sad, it seemed like the beginning of a wonderful fairy tale. And everything, as it were, stopped in its growth, died; the noise of voices died away, receding into mournful sighs.

Why didn't you go with them? - Nodding her head, asked the old woman Izergil.

Time had bent her in half, her once black eyes were dull and watery. Her dry voice sounded strange, it crunched like an old woman talking with her bones.

“I don’t want to,” I told her.

- U! .. you, Russians, will be born old men. Everyone is gloomy, like demons ... Our girls are afraid of you ... But you are young and strong ...

The moon has risen. Her disk was large, blood-red, she seemed to have come out of the bowels of this steppe, which in its lifetime had swallowed so much human meat and drank blood, which is probably why it became so fat and generous. Lacy shadows from the foliage fell on us, the old woman and I were covered with them, like a net. Across the steppe, to our left, the shadows of the clouds, saturated with the blue glow of the moon, floated, they became more transparent and brighter.

Look, Larra is coming!

I looked where the old woman was pointing with her trembling hand with crooked fingers, and I saw: shadows floated there, there were many of them, and one of them, darker and thicker than the others, swam faster and lower than the sisters - she fell from a patch of cloud, which swam closer to the ground than the others, and faster than them.

- Nobody's there! - I said.

“You are more blind than me, old woman. Look - out, dark, running through the steppe!

I looked again and again saw nothing but a shadow.

- It's a shadow! Why are you calling her Larra?

- Because it's him. He has already become like a shadow now - it's time! He lives for thousands of years, the sun dried up his body, blood and bones, and the wind pulverized them. This is what God can do to a man for pride! ..

- Tell me how it was! I asked the old woman, feeling ahead of me one of the glorious tales composed in the steppes. And she told me this story.

“Many thousands of years have passed since the time when this happened. Far beyond the sea, at sunrise, there is a country of a large river, in that country every tree leaf and stalk of grass gives as much shade as a person needs to hide in it from the sun, cruelly hot there.

What a generous land in that country!

A powerful tribe of people lived there, they grazed herds and spent their strength and courage on hunting for animals, feasted after the hunt, sang songs and played with girls.

Once, during a feast, one of them, black-haired and tender as night, was carried away by an eagle descending from the sky. The arrows fired at him by the men fell miserably back to the ground. Then they went to look for the girl, but they did not find her. And they forgot about her, as they forget about everything on earth.

The old woman sighed and nodded. Her raspy voice sounded like it had been murmuring through all the forgotten ages, embodied in her chest as shadows of memories. The sea quietly echoed the beginning of one of the ancient legends that may have been created on its shores.

“But twenty years later she herself came, exhausted, withered, and with her was a young man, handsome and strong, as she herself was twenty years ago. And when they asked her where she was, she said that the eagle carried her to the mountains and lived with her there as with his wife. Here is his son, but the father is gone; when he began to weaken, he rose for the last time high into the sky and, folding his wings, fell heavily from there onto the sharp ledges of the mountain, crashed to death on them ...

Everyone looked with surprise at the son of an eagle and saw that he was no better than them, only his eyes were cold and proud, like those of the king of birds. And they talked to him, and he answered if he wanted, or was silent, and when the oldest tribes came, he spoke to them as to his equals. This offended them, and they, calling him an unfinished arrow with an unsharpened tip, told him that they were honored, they were obeyed by thousands of his kind, and thousands twice his age. And he, boldly looking at them, answered that there were no others like him; and if everyone honors them, he does not want to do this. Oh! .. then they were completely angry. They got angry and said:

He has no place among us! Let him go where he wants.

He laughed and went where he pleased - to one beautiful girl who was staring at him intently; He went to her and went up to her and hugged her. And she was the daughter of one of the elders who condemned him. And although he was handsome, she pushed him away because she was afraid of her father. She pushed him away, and went away, and he hit her and, when she fell, stood with his foot on her chest, so that blood splashed from her mouth to the sky, the girl, sighing, wriggled like a snake and died.

Everyone who saw this was shackled with fear - for the first time in their presence a woman was killed like that. And for a long time everyone was silent, looking at her, lying with open eyes and a bloody mouth, and at him, who stood alone against everyone, next to her, and was proud, did not lower his head, as if calling punishment on her. Then, when they came to their senses, they grabbed him, tied him up and left him like that, finding that killing him right now was too easy and would not satisfy them.

The night grew and grew stronger, filled with strange, quiet sounds. Gophers whistled sadly in the steppe, the glassy chatter of grasshoppers trembled in the foliage of grapes, the foliage sighed and whispered, the full disk of the moon, formerly blood-red, turned pale, moving away from the earth, turned pale and more and more abundantly poured a bluish haze onto the steppe ...

“And so they gathered to come up with an execution worthy of a crime ... They wanted to tear it apart with horses - and this seemed not enough to them; they thought of shooting everyone with an arrow at him, but they also rejected this; they offered to burn him, but the smoke of the fire would not allow him to see his torment; offered a lot - and did not find anything good enough to please everyone. And his mother knelt before them and was silent, finding neither tears nor words to beg for mercy. They talked for a long time, and then one wise man said, after thinking for a long time:

Let's ask him why he did it? They asked him about it. He said:

- Untie me! I won't say bound! And when they untied him, he asked:

- What you need? - He asked as if they were slaves ...

“You heard…” said the sage.

Why should I explain my actions to you?

- To be understood by us. You, proud, listen! You will die anyway... Let us understand what you have done. We remain alive, and it is useful for us to know more than we know ...

“Okay, I’ll tell you, although I may be misunderstanding what happened myself. I killed her because, it seems to me, she pushed me away ... And I needed her.

But she's not yours! they told him.

Do you only use yours? I see that each person has only speech, hands and feet ... and he owns animals, women, the earth ... and much more ...

He was told that for everything that a person takes, he pays with himself: with his mind and strength, sometimes with his life. And he replied that he wanted to keep himself whole.

We talked with him for a long time and finally saw that he considers himself the first on earth and sees nothing but himself. Everyone even became scared when they realized what kind of loneliness he doomed himself to. He had no tribe, no mother, no livestock, no wife, and he didn't want any of that.

When people saw this, they again began to judge how to punish him. But now they did not speak for long, - he, the wise one, who did not interfere with their judgment, spoke himself:

- Stop! There is a punishment. This is a terrible punishment; you won't invent something like that in a thousand years! His punishment is in himself! Let him go, let him be free. Here is his punishment!

And then something great happened. Thunder struck from heaven, although there were no clouds on them. It was the powers of heaven that confirmed the speech of the wise. Everyone bowed and dispersed. And this young man, who now received the name Larra, which means: outcast, thrown out, the young man laughed loudly after the people who abandoned him, laughed, remaining alone, free, like his father. But his father was not a man... But this one was a man. And so he began to live, free as a bird. He came to the tribe and stole cattle, girls - whatever he wanted. They shot at him, but the arrows could not pierce his body, covered with an invisible cover of the highest punishment. He was agile, predatory, strong, cruel and did not meet people face to face. Only saw him from afar. And for a long time, alone, he hovered around people, for a long time - more than a dozen years. But one day he came close to people and when they rushed at him, he did not budge and did not show in any way that he would defend himself. Then one of the people guessed and shouted loudly:

- Don't touch him. He wants to die!

And everyone stopped, not wanting to alleviate the fate of the one who did evil to them, not wanting to kill him. They stopped and laughed at him. And he trembled, hearing this laughter, and kept looking for something on his chest, clutching at it with his hands. And suddenly he rushed at the people, lifting a stone. But they, evading his blows, did not inflict a single one on him, and when he, tired, with a sad cry, fell to the ground, they stepped aside and watched him. So he stood up and, raising a knife lost by someone in the fight against him, hit himself in the chest with it. But the knife broke - they hit it like a stone. And again he fell to the ground and beat his head against it for a long time. But the ground pulled away from him, deepening from the blows of his head.

He can't die! people said happily. And they left, leaving him. He lay face up and saw - high in the sky with black dots, mighty eagles swam. There was so much longing in his eyes that one could poison all the people of the world with it. So, from that time on, he was left alone, free, waiting for death. And now he walks, walks everywhere ... You see, he has already become like a shadow and will be like that forever! He doesn't understand people's speech, their actions, nothing. And he is looking for everything, walking, walking ... He has no life, and death does not smile at him. And there is no place for him among people ... That's how a man was struck for pride!

The old woman sighed, fell silent, and her head, sinking to her chest, swayed strangely several times.

I looked at her. The old woman was overcome by sleep, it seemed to me. And for some reason I felt terribly sorry for her. She ended the story in such a sublime, menacing tone, and yet there was a timid, slavish note in that tone.

They sang on the shore, they sang strangely. First, a contralto rang out - he sang two or three notes, and another voice rang out, starting the song all over again, and the first one kept pouring ahead of him ... - the third, fourth, fifth entered the song in the same order. And suddenly the same song, again at first, was sung by a choir of male voices.

Each voice of the women sounded completely separate, they all seemed like multi-colored streams and, as if rolling down from somewhere above along the ledges, jumping and ringing, merging into a thick wave of male voices that smoothly flowed upwards, they drowned in it, burst out of it, drowned it out and again one by one they soared, pure and strong, high into the air.