My city 3: records Emmanuel
Шрифт:
– It is right. – Emmanuel agreed, and then emphasized. – The power spoils the person as the person and as the personality.
Luda agreed:
– Quite right. – and then added. – The power is a scourge not only the person separately, but also society in general. – then she added. – To remember, for example, the fable by Krylov, a goat. There put a goat in this system, and all.
Emmanuel took an interest:
– What?
– It so there also remained. – Luda answered. – Did not get to anywhere. – then she added. – The power is such piece, will get to it, and will carry out all the life in it, and over time … – it having made a pause, added. – When the person is sure that he stands on the feet, and him nobody will deprive his place, he will simply dump everything on the deputies, and itself will go somewhere to Miami.
Having listened to Luda, assumed Emmanuel:
– Your reasons smell of policy. – then she added. – You are not afraid that somebody learns?
Luda questioned:
– Learns that? – it having made a pause, having stared at Emmanuel, told. – I tell nothing of that kind. – then she added. – Only what is known by all. And if that to accuse to you me there is nothing. I say only what is known to all, and in general, we so do not talk that politics, we speak about history of the state Russian, and history anyway is always connected with policy. – Luda addressed Zhora. – Do you agree with me?
– Yes, – Zhora answered. – I absolutely agree with you.
– Well, – threw Emmanuel. – Yours took. – then she agreed. – History of everyone the state are anyway connected with policy of the countries or countries. – Then she added. – In the history of Russia there were many soldiers, this its history. – then she specified. – Its history, and history of that state with which Russia waged war.
Zhora and Luda agreed with Emmanuel.
– It so it also is.
Zhora added:
– Wars are the most tragic years in life of all planet – Earth, all its history.
The conversation was not really glued. A story of Russia of her pervo-tsar was told by Zhora in detail to the smallest details. There was nothing to tell more. The conversation passed into policy, and here hardly anyone could answer a question accurately: who had to be now in power and what had to be this power? "Monarchy?", or "Democracy?". Russia from
– All right. – Zhora told. He looked in a car window. On the street it was already dark. He looked at the wrist electronic clock which showed one minute to ten, told. – We became engrossed in talking here I will tell you, and promised to show Emmanuel Moscow. – it having made a pause, addressed Luda. – I am a quite good guide. – he told. – Time already ten evening, is a high time to see Moscow now. – it having made a pause, added. – Well? Who wants to see beautiful Moscow? This remarkable city! You Emmanuel? Luda went, Moscow is so beautiful at this time!
– Yes. – Luda agreed. – We really became engrossed in talking, and time goes. – it having made a pause, asked. – Emmanuel, all of you still want to see Moscow?
– Certainly. – answered Emmanuel, and led Luda. – Then why we sit in a car?
– Truly. – Luda answered. And then added. – Zhora told you a story of Russia – her tsars, now he to you will be a guide. – Luda having made a pause, Emmanuel assured. – We will show round to you the city in his beauty.
Emmanuel it is intrigued answered:
– I hope for it.
Luda turned a key ignition, switched the lever management of speed, and the car left back, then having again switched transmission speed, Luda pressed gas, and having jerked a car from the place, came out to the route, and disappeared in a stream of night headlights of cars, having got lost in a distance of their luminescence.
Moscow lived. It burned bright full of joy of lamps in apartment houses light burned. It seemed that houses recovered. Even if for this short time, till the dawn. They lived. Smiled to the joyful cars passing by them on the brisk route cheerful fervent, all. Kind of watching them leave afar, and envying them. Houses unlike cars always stand on the place, and cars travel about all over the world, seeing a lot of interesting, opening something new. Whatever you may say, at cars life is much more interesting than at the multi-storey buildings standing along the road.
***
Now, the ezzha in the car on streets of Moscow, Emmanuel looked out of the car window, and having put out from side to a door of an open window the head, she felt inflow of joy and happiness from striking its face of the prankish wind. It demolished its hairpin from hair, and her beautiful hair as if under wind blew on playful, naughty wind. Well! Perfectly! Remarkably! Emmanuel did not feel such violent joy and euphoria of happiness for a long time. Whether yes she felt this joy? Joy of freedom and life? Probably not. She worked all life on the government. And there what happiness of life? Only work, work, and once again work. There you do not even marry still appropriate authorities will not check you for professional suitability. For them their work this second Gestapo. God forbid to miss the spy, for all life you will not be washed. However all the rest – is fine. Perfectly. Have a rest I do not want. Emmanuel having pulled in the head in salon of a car-TAXI, Emmanuel told:
– What beauty! – she Emmanuel pronounced these words with admiration and envy. With white envy. She never before saw such beauty. Old Moscow. What beautiful it is Moscow. There is Bulgakovsky Arbatsky Lane. The lane where the Master got acquainted with Margarita. He carried flowers in hands, and having presented them Margarita, she told: "I do not like these flowers". She threw them on asphalt and went down the street, and the Master, having lifted flowers, followed for it. Love. The love between Master and Margarita flashed suddenly. And not that suddenly, and in that second as the Master saw Margarita. Pure, serene love. Love which lasted so not for long, and so long. It is possible to tell eternally. In general, it is possible to speak about this work by Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov eternally. Nobody will come to the general opinion on the one who was according to Bulgakova Margarita? Priests of church claim that Margarita sold soul to the Devil of "VOLANDU". Therefore it was unworthy according to priests – light. As for – the master, he was unworthy too light as went after Margarita. But whether so it? I consider that Master as well as Margarita were worthy light. But. Always is – but. The master, was isolated from society in psychiatric hospital. Will you tell why I so think? The answer is simple. Remember when the Master came to other chamber where the writer Bezdomny lay, he in the course of the conversation told: "I have no place to go", and then on the question asked Bezdomny: "where you met it?". Received the answer: "on Patriarchal ponds". he answered: "ah, if I met it again, I would show it". What can be told here? The master was in psychiatric hospital – on penal servitude. He was tormented there and operated. The majority them them was not maintained, and they died. Here from there is the one and only question: "what happened to the Master in psychiatric hospital it was real or already not?". There can be Bezdomny having gone crazy began to see ghosts? Perhaps. Nobody can answer this question directly, remember when Azazello destroyed the master and Margarita, it went only to Margarita, there nothing was told about the Master. And only, when Margarita in the apartment died, Bezdomny heard groan of the person behind a wall of the chamber. He then already knew that it the Master died. The master, without name and a surname. The person – the ghost. Without name and without … that without? The person – anybody. The person – the ghost, the person from nowhere. As for Margarita, it is about self-sacrifice here. Margarita offered herself for the sake of the beloved. It went to the transaction with Voland for the sake of the beloved. For the sake of the Master. She wanted to pull out it from this nightmare. A nightmare to which it got perhaps by the nonsense. Everything goes to lives, as well as in the novel the turn. We sacrifice ourselves for the sake of someone, and we reunite with them in heaven. Ability self-sacrifice for the sake of the native person – this highest extent of self-sacrifice. It is also rest: "he read the book". The apostle Matfey told. "he wants to present it rest". Voland asked: "why you do not take it to yourself, to the public?". Matfey told: "he did not deserve light, he deserved rest". Self-sacrifices, and then – rest. Rest – because we break the Lord's commandments. But I will tell about this work another time, now we will return to Emmanuel, Luda and Zhora. Where they now? They approached Patriarchal ponds. Patriarchal ponds, we come back to Bulgakov Moscow again. Again same work "MASTER AND MARGARITA". The place where Berlioz and Bezdomny, met Voland and his suite. Where Voland told the interlocutor about Pontius Pilate and Yahshuah Ganotsy. Patriarchal ponds – the place where this history began. Master and Margarita's history. The place – where everything began. Where Annushka poured oil where Berlioz got under the tram wheels. Where Bezdomny went mad, and running across Moscow for the foreigner Voland, came running in underpants to the house of writers, and having told about everything got to lunatic asylum where made it the diagnosis – schizophrenia. What Ivan Nikolaevich Bezdomny's foreigner on a bench on Patriarchal ponds warned about. It is a lot of secrets and legends store Patriarchal ponds. Who knows, can Patriarchal it is an entrance to something other? Mystical. Somehow time I sat on a bench at Patriarchal. Among the people passing there I sometimes wrapped the head as though someone looked at me, and I watched someone the leave afar. Perhaps, it is just my prejudices, and on Patriarchal I saw nobody, and can and is not present, and ghosts of old Moscow have a rest on Patriarchal here. Looking at ponds by the light of night lamps, it is possible to notice on water hardly noticeable floating boat, or boats. It seems anything special. But having got accustomed it is visible more attentively that there are no boats. These are it is simple their hidden outlines – the phantom as would tell now. Quietly water, a light air peacefully rustles as if the messenger to share gossips about last day on Patriarchal ponds with the trees growing nearby. They as if a gossip hotline carry between themselves all modern and modern histories ever occurred and occurring at present here, on Patriarchal. Zhora with the companions went on a path on patriarchal, and he for some reason felt ill at ease. It was captured by some fear, he felt that someone as if watches it and his companions. Someone's hidden look looked at it from far away. He looked afar, and felt how someone approaches them. Someone, obviously, very much did not want that they were present here. On his body ran a fever. He looked at women, and those saw that his face turned white. Turned white obviously for horror of the attendee here, on Patriarchal. Women felt it too. They felt how on their body ran a chill. Easy chill, but such dreadfully – ice that women having crossed hands on a breast, a polozh of a hand on hands, having looked around itself, and having felt cold which proceeded from water, having looked at each other, told Zhora:
– We feel ill at ease. – Luda having made a pause, took an interest. – To you the same?
Having recovered for slight fear of what he felt, Zhora trying not to give to women any look that to it it is terrible, asked:
– From what it, did you, take it?
It was absolutely clear to women that Zhora to be afraid of that cold that on Patriarchal was even worse, than they. And it was visible on his face which was more white white, white – as death.
Luda told:
– Yes you have all white face. – then she specified. – White – as death.
Zhora touched the person. It was valid cold. It seemed that the fear – integral from the person, captured it only. Now it seemed to Zhora that not he faces women and tells them about Bulgakov Moscow. About its novel "MASTER AND MARGARITA" not it tells It about it, it is the novel tells about itself(himself). Patriarchal ponds, present Clean Ponds. How many secrets are hidden by them? How many events took place there? How many still will be? We never learn it. Only the wind and loving couples sitting on benches at Patriarchal know that exactly here, among fallen leaves of trees, the dissatisfied janitor going with a broom always, ezzhushchy around Patriarchal ponds of the tram without number, and only with the one and only letter "A" which according to many inhabitants at the next houses is capable to disappear, and in the same second appearing on tram flights again, goes to uncertainty. To that Bulgakov Moscow where there lived the Master and his darling. In the work Margarita Bulgakov describes her as the mistress. But actually she was his wife. Agree, only really loving the person it is capable to sacrifice himself for the sake of other person. Zhora knew all this as well as knew all this his companions. Luda many times read this novel, and only after several of its readings she understood its final sense. Self-sacrifice – here the main sense of this work. Works, but not the work. Master and Margarita are two separately connected in common works. The first: Master and Margarita, and the second about Yahshuah Ganotsri and the Procurator of Judea. Two absolutely different stories, and at the same time such similar. Love, treachery, self-sacrifice, death. Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov also tried to inform of it us. Where we lived what we did. We always have to have courage to offer ourselves for the sake of … for the sake of what? Well to solve it to you. Each to their own. But we will return to Zhora, Luda and Emmanuel. On what did we leave them? And, here on what. On told Lyudmila: "yes you have all white face. White – as death". Zhora touched the person. It was valid cold. He with uncertain fear answered: