Summary Oriental story
M. Yu. Lermontov The
Oriental Novel
From the cosmic height, the “sad Demon” observes the wild and wonderful world of the central Caucasus: as a facet of a diamond, Kazbek flashes, the Terek jumps with a lioness, Daryal’s gorge curls like a serpent-and nothing but contempt. Evil is bored with the spirit of evil. Everyone is a burden: an indefinite loneliness, immortality, and unlimited power over an insignificant land. The landscape is changing. Under the wing of the flying Demon is no longer a cluster of rocks and abysses, but the lush valleys of happy Georgia: the glitter and breath of thousands of plants, the voluptuous midday heat and the rosy scents of bright nights. UVA, and these luxurious paintings do not cause the inhabitants of the superstellar edges of new thoughts. Only for a moment detained attention of the Demon is restrained by the festive revival in the usually silent voivods of the Georgian feudal lord: the owner of the manor, Prince Gudal,
Relatives gathered ahead of time, the guilt of the princess Tamara, the luminous ruler of the Synodal, will arrive by the end of the day, while the servants roll out the old carpets: according to the custom, on the carpeted roof of the bride, before the groom’s appearance, the traditional dance with a tambourine should be performed. Dancing princess Tamara! Oh, how she dances! Then a bird rushes, circling a small tambourine above his head, then freezes like a frightened doe, and a light cloud of sadness runs through the charming bright-eyed face. After all, this is the last day of the princess in the father’s house! Will someone else meet her? No, no, Tamara is not married to her against her will. She is to her heart chosen by the father of the groom: in love, young, handsome – what more! But here no one hampered her freedom, but there… Having driven away the “secret doubt”, Tamara again smiles. Smiling and dancing. His daughter is proud of the gray-haired Gudal, admiring the guests, raise their horny horns, and say sumptuous toasts: “I swear,
In the family of the bride groan and weeping. Darker than the cloud of Gudal, he sees God’s punishment in the incident. Having fallen on the bed, as was – in pearls and brocade, Tamara weeps. And suddenly: a voice. Unfamiliar. Magic. Comforts, calms, heals, tells tales and promises to come to her every night – hardly blossom night flowers – so that “to silk lashes / Dreams of gold to bring…”. Tamara looks back: no one!!! Really it seemed? But then where the turmoil? To whom there is no name! In the morning the princess nevertheless falls asleep and sees a strange – is not the first of the promised gold? – a dream. Blazing with unearthly beauty, a certain “alien” leans towards her head. This is not a guardian angel, there is no glowing halo around his curls, but he does not seem to look like a devil in hell: he is too sad, lovingly looking! And so every night: as soon as the night flowers wake up, is. Guessing that her irresistible dream is not confused by anyone, but the “evil spirit” herself, Tamara asks her father to let her go to the monastery. Gudal is angry – the bridegrooms, one more enviable than the other, besiege their house, and Tamara refuses everything. Having lost patience, he threatens with a reckless curse. Tamara does not stop this threat; at last Gudal concedes. And here she is in a solitary monastery, but here, in a sacred monastery, at the hours of solemn prayers, through the church singing she hears the same magic voice, in the fog of incense rising to the arches of the gloomy temple, Tamara sees the same image and the same eyes – irresistible, like a dagger. Having lost patience, he threatens with a reckless curse. Tamara does not stop this threat; at last Gudal concedes. And here she is in a solitary monastery, but here, in a sacred monastery, at the hours of solemn prayers, through the church singing she hears the same magic voice, in the fog of incense rising to the arches of the gloomy temple, Tamara sees the same image and the same eyes – irresistible, like a dagger. Having lost patience, he threatens with a reckless curse. Tamara does not stop this threat; at last Gudal concedes. And here she is in a solitary monastery, but here, in a sacred monastery, at the hours of solemn prayers, through the church singing she hears the same magic voice, in the fog of incense rising to the arches of the gloomy temple, Tamara sees the same image and the same eyes – irresistible, like a dagger.
Having fallen on his knees before the divine icon, the poor maiden wants to pray to the saints, and her disobedient heart – “prays to Him.” The beautiful sinner is not deceived into her account: she is not just confused by the obscure dream of love, she is in love: passionately, sinfully, as if the night visitor captivated by her unearthly beauty was not a stranger from the invisible, intangible world, but an earthly youth. The demon, of course, understands everything, but, unlike the unfortunate princess, knows what she does not know: the earthly beauty will pay for the moment of physical intimacy with him, a creature unearthly, death. That is why he is hesitating; he is even ready to give up his criminal plan. In any case, he thinks so. One night, already approaching the coveted cell, he tries to retire, and in fear he feels that he can not wave his wing: the wing does not move!
Realizing that even he, seemingly omnipotent, can not change anything, the Demon is Tamara no longer in the form of an obscure nebula, but embodied, that is, in the image of a winged but beautiful and courageous person. However, the way to the bed of the sleeping Tamara is blocked by her guardian angel and demands that the evil spirit does not touch his, angelic, shrine. The demon, smirking slyly, explains to the messenger of paradise that he came too late and that in his, Demon, possessions – where he owns and loves – the cherubim have nothing to do. Tamara, waking up, does not recognize in a chance guest the youth of her dreams. Do not like her and his speech – lovely in a dream, in reality they seem to her dangerous. But the Demon opens his soul to her – Tamara is touched by the immensity of the sorrows of the mysterious stranger, now he seems to her a sufferer. Still, something is bothering her in the guise of a stranger and in arguments too complicated for her to weaken her mind. And she, o holy naivety, asks him to swear that he is not cunning, does not deceive her gullibility. And the Demon swears. The more he does not swear – and the sky that he hates, and the hell that despises, and even the shrine that he does not. The Demon’s oath is a brilliant example of love male eloquence – which a man does not promise a woman, when in his “blood burning desire fire!”. In the “impatience of passion,” he does not even notice that he contradicts himself: he promises to take Tamara to the superstar regions and make the queen of the world, then assures himself that it is here, on this insignificant land, that she will build magnificent halls of turquoise and amber. And yet the outcome of a fateful meeting is decided not by words, and the first touch – the hot men’s lips – to the trembling female lips. Night monastic watchman, making a roundabout way, slows down the steps: in the cell of the new nun unusual sounds, sort of like “two mouths consonant lobzanie.” Embarrassed, he stops and hears: first groan, and then terrible, though weak – like a death cry.
Informed about the death of the heiress, Gudal takes the body of the deceased from the monastery. He firmly decided to bury his daughter in a high-altitude family cemetery, where one of his ancestors, for the redemption of many sins, erected a small temple. In addition, he does not want to see his Tamara, even in a coffin, in coarse hair. On his orders, the women of his hearth dress up the princess as they did not dress up in the days of merriment. Three days and three nights, higher and higher, a mournful train is moving, ahead of Gudal on a snow-white horse. He is silent, and the rest are silent. So many days have passed since the death of the princess, and it does not touch decay – the color of the brow, as in life, whiter and cleaner cover? And this smile, as if frozen on your lips?! Mysterious, like her very death!!! Having given his perrior gloomy ground, the funeral caravan starts on the way back… Everything was correctly done by the wise Goodal! The river of times washed away from the face of the earth and its high house, where his wife gave him a beautiful daughter, and a wide courtyard, where Tamara played a child. And the temple and the cemetery are intact with it, they can still be seen there, high up there, on the edge of crenellated rocks, for the nature of its highest power made the grave of the beloved Demon inaccessible to man.
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