Five rich and young people arrived one night to have fun in St. Petersburg Balik. A lot of champagne was drunk, the girls were beautiful, dancing and noise did not cease; but it was somehow boring, awkward, it seemed to everyone for some reason that all this was not right and unnecessary.

One of the five young people, Delesov, more than others dissatisfied with himself and in the evening, went out with the intention of slowly leaving. In the next room he heard an argument, and then the door opened and a strange figure appeared on the threshold. He was a middle-aged man, with a narrow bent back and long disheveled hair. He was wearing a short coat and torn narrow trousers over uncleaned boots. A dirty shirt protruded from the sleeves over the thin hands. But, despite the extreme thinness of the body, his face was gentle, white, and even a fresh blush played on his cheeks, over a rare black beard and sideburns. Unkempt hair, thrown up, opened a low clean forehead. Dark tired eyes looked forward softly, searchingly and importantly. Their expression merged with the expression of fresh, bent in the corners of the lips, visible from the rare mustache. He paused, turned to Delesov and smiled. When a smile lit up his face, Delesov - himself not knowing what - smiled too.

He was told that this is a crazy musician from the theater, who sometimes comes to the mistress. Delesov returned to the hall, the musician stood at the door, looking at the dancers with a smile. He was called to dance, and, winking, smiling and twitching, hard, awkwardly went to jump around the hall. In the middle of the quadrille, he ran into an officer and fell to the floor with all his height. Almost everyone laughed at the first minute, but the musician did not get up. The guests were silent.

When the musician was picked up and put on a chair, he threw back his forehead hair with a quick movement of his bony hand and began to smile, not answering anything. The landlady, sympathetically looking at the musician, told the guests: "He is a very good fellow, only miserable."

Then the musician woke up and, as if afraid of something, cringed and pushed those around him.

“This is all okay,” he said suddenly, with visible effort rising from his chair.

And in order to prove that he was not in any pain, he went out into the middle of the room and wanted to jump, but he staggered and would fall again if he had not been supported. Everyone was embarrassed. Suddenly he raised his head, put forward a trembling leg, with the same vulgar gesture he threw back his hair and, going to the violinist, took the violin from him: “Gentlemen! We will play music! ”

“What a beautiful face! .. There is something unusual in him,” said Delesov. Meanwhile, Albert (that was the name of the musician), without paying any attention to anyone, tuned the violin. Then, with a smooth movement of the bow, he held the strings. A clean, slender sound swept through the room, and complete silence ensued.

The sounds of the theme poured freely, gracefully after the first, somehow unexpectedly clear and soothing light, suddenly illuminating the inner world of each listener. From the state of boredom, fuss and spiritual sleep in which these people were, they were suddenly imperceptibly transferred to a completely different world, forgotten by them. In their souls there were visions of the past, past happiness, love and sadness. Albert grew taller with each note. He was no longer ugly or strange. He pressed the violin with his chin and listened with passionate attention to his sounds, he frantically moved his feet. Either he straightened to his full height, then carefully bent his back. The face shone with ecstatic joy; eyes burned, nostrils swelled, lips opened with pleasure.

All who were in the room during the game of Albert were silent and seemed to breathe only with his sounds. Delesov felt an unusual feeling. Frost ran down his back, rising higher and higher to his throat, and now something was piercing his nose with thin needles, and tears flowed imperceptibly on his cheeks. The sounds of the violin carried Delesov to his first youth. He suddenly felt seventeen, smug, beautiful, blissfully stupid and unconsciously happy creature. He remembered his first love for his cousin, his first confession, the heat and the incomprehensible charm of an accidental kiss, the unsolved mystery of the then surrounding nature. All the invaluable minutes of that time, one after another, rebelled before him. He delightedly contemplated them and cried ...

Towards the end of the last variation, Albert's face turned red, his eyes burned, drops of sweat streamed down his cheeks. The whole body began to move more and more, pale lips no longer closed, and the whole figure expressed an enthusiastic greed for pleasure. Frantically swinging his whole body and shaking his hair, he lowered his violin and with a smile of proud greatness and happiness looked around those present. Then his back bent, his head dropped, his lips folded, his eyes went out, and, as if ashamed of himself, timidly looking around and tangled in his legs, he went into another room.

Something strange happened to everyone present, and something strange was felt in the dead silence that followed Albert’s game ...

“However, it's time to go, gentlemen,” one guest broke the silence. “I'll have to give him something.” Let’s add up.

They made rich money, and Delesov undertook to hand it over. In addition, it occurred to him to take the musician to himself, to dress, to attach to some place - to tear him out of this dirty situation.

“I would have drunk something,” said Albert, as if waking up when Delesov approached him. Delesov brought the wine, and the musician eagerly drank it.

“Can you lend me some money?” I am a poor man. I can’t give you back.

Delesov blushed, he felt embarrassed, and he hastily handed over the collected money.

“Thank you very much,” said Albert, grabbing the money. - Now let's play music; I will play as much as you want. Only to drink something, ”he added, rising.

“I would be very glad if you stayed with me for a while,” Delesov suggested.

“I would not advise you,” said the hostess, shaking her head in the negative.

When Delesov got into the carriage with Albert and felt the unpleasant smell of the drunkard and impurity that the musician was saturated with, he began to repent of his act and accuse himself of softness of heart and recklessness. Delesov looked back at the musician. Looking at this face, he again went to that blissful world into which he had glanced this night; and he stopped repenting of his deed.

The next morning, he again remembered the black eyes and the happy smile of the musician; all the strange last night flashed through his imagination. Passing by the dining room, Delesov looked at the door. Albert, with his face buried in a pillow and scattered, in a dirty, tattered shirt, slept dead on a sofa, where he, insensible, was put last night.

Delesov asked Zakhar, who had been serving with Delesov for eight years, to take a violin from his friends for two days, find clean clothes for the musician and take care of him. When late in the evening Delesov returned home, he did not find Albert there. Zakhar said that Albert left immediately after dinner, promised to come in an hour, but has not yet returned. Zakhar liked Albert: “Surely an artist! And the character is very good. How he “Down Mother on the Volga” played us, just as a person is crying. Even people from all floors came to us in the shade to listen. ” Delesov warned that Zakhar henceforth didn’t give anything to drink and sent him to find and bring Albert.

Delesov could not fall asleep for a long time, he was thinking about Albert: “So rarely do you do something not for yourself, that you have to thank God when such a case is presented, and I will not miss it.” A pleasant sense of complacency seized him after such reasoning.

He was already falling asleep when the steps in the hall awoke him. Zakhar came and said that Albert had returned, drunk. Zakhar had not yet had time to leave, when Albert entered the room. He said that he was with Anna Ivanovna and had a very pleasant evening.

Albert was the same as yesterday: the same beautiful smile of eyes and lips, the same bright, inspired forehead and weak limbs. Zakhar’s coat was just right for him, and a clean, long nightgown collar pictorially leaned back around his thin white neck, giving him something particularly childish and innocent. He sat down on Delesov’s bed and silently, joyfully and gratefully smiling, looked at him. Delesov looked into Albert's eyes and suddenly felt himself in the grip of his smile again. He ceased to want to sleep, he forgot about his obligation to be strict, on the contrary, he wanted to have fun, listen to music and at least chat with Albert until the morning.

They talked about music, about aristocrats and opera. Albert jumped up, grabbed the violin and began to play the finale of the first act of Don Juan, in his own words telling the contents of the opera. Delesov's hair stirred on his head as he played the voice of a dying commander.

There was a pause. They looked at each other and smiled. Delesov felt that he more and more loved this man, and felt an incomprehensible joy.

- Were you in love? He suddenly asked.

Albert thought for a few seconds, then his face lit up with a sad smile.

- Yes, I was in love. It happened a long time ago. I went to play the second violin in the opera, and she went there to performances. I was silent and only looked at her; I knew that I was a poor artist, and she was an aristocratic lady. I was invited to accompany her on the violin once. How happy I was! But it was my fault, I lost my mind. I shouldn't have said anything to her. But I lost my mind, I did stupid things. Since then it all ended for me ... I came to the orchestra late. She sat in her bed and spoke with the general. She spoke with him and looked at me. Here for the first time it became strange to me. Suddenly I saw that I was not in the orchestra, but in the box, standing with her and holding her hand ... Even then I was poor, I didn’t have an apartment, and when I went to the theater, sometimes I stayed there for the night. As soon as everyone left, I went to the box where she sat and slept. It was my one joy ... Only once again began with me. I began to introduce myself at night ... I kissed her hand, talked a lot with her. I heard the smell of her perfume, I heard her voice. Then I took the violin and slowly began to play. And I played great. But I was scared ... It seemed to me that something had happened in my head.

Silently, Delesov looked with horror at the excited and pale face of his interlocutor.

- Let's go again to Anna Ivanovna; it's fun there, ”Albert suddenly suggested.

Delesov almost agreed in the first minute. However, having come to his senses, he began to persuade Albert not to go. Then he ordered Zakhar to not let Albert go anywhere without his knowledge.

The next day was a holiday. No sound was heard in Albert's room, and only at twelve o'clock at the door he heard a groaning and coughing. Delesov heard how Albert persuades Zakhar to give him vodka. “No, if you’ve taken it, you need to maintain your character,” Delesov told himself, ordering Zakhar not to give the musician wine.

Two hours later, Delesov looked at Albert. Albert sat motionless by the window, his head in his hands. His face was yellow, wrinkled and deeply miserable. He tried to smile as a greeting, but his face took on an even more woeful expression. He seemed ready to cry, but with difficulty stood up and bowed. After that, no matter what Delesov said, inviting him to play the violin, take a walk, go to the theater in the evening, he only bowed obediently and stubbornly remained silent. Delesov left for business. Returning, he saw that Albert was sitting in the dark front. He was dressed neatly, washed and combed; but his eyes were dull, dead, and weakness and exhaustion, even greater than in the morning, was expressed in the whole figure.

“I spoke to the director about you now,” said Delesov. “He is very glad to receive you if you allow yourself to listen.”

“Thank you, I can’t play,” Albert said to himself under his breath and went into his room, especially shutting the door behind him quietly.

After a few minutes, the pen turned just as quietly, and he left his room with a violin. Viciously and fluently glancing at Delesov, he laid the violin on a chair and again disappeared. Delesov shrugged and smiled. “What else should I do? what am I to blame? ” He thought

... Albert every day became darker and more silent. He seemed afraid of Delesov. He did not pick up either books or violins and did not answer any questions.

On the third day of his stay with the musician, Delesov arrived home late in the evening, tired and upset:

“Tomorrow I will get it from him decisively: does he want or not to stay with me and follow my advice?” No - it’s not necessary. It seems that I did everything I could, ”he announced to Zaharu. “No, it was a childish act,” Delesov later decided with himself. “Where can I undertake to correct others, when only God forbid to cope with myself.” He wanted to let Albert go now, but, thinking, he put it off until tomorrow.

At night, Delesov was awakened by the knock of a fallen table in the hall, voices and clatter. Delesov ran to the front: Zakhar stood against the door, Albert, in a hat and coat, pushed him away from the door and shouted at him in a tearful voice.

- Excuse me, Dmitry Ivanovich! - Zakhar turned to the master, continuing to protect the door with his back. - They got up at night, found the key and drank a whole carafe of sweet vodka. And now they want to leave. You did not order, therefore I cannot let them go.

“Get away, Zakhar,” said Delesov. “I do not want to keep you and I can’t, but I would advise you to stay until tomorrow,” he turned to Albert.

Albert stopped screaming. "Failed? They wanted to kill me. Not!" He muttered to himself, putting on his galoshes. Not saying goodbye and continuing to say something incomprehensible, he went out the door.

Delesov vividly recalled the first two evenings that he spent with the musician, recalled the last sad days, and most importantly, he recalled that sweet mixed feeling of surprise, love and compassion that this strange man aroused in him at first sight; and he felt sorry for him. “And will something be with him now?” He thought. “Without money, without a warm dress, alone in the middle of the night ...” He already wanted to send Zakhar for him, but it was too late.

It was cold in the yard, but Albert did not feel the cold - so he was excited by the drunk wine and the argument. With his hands in his pantalon pockets and leaning forward, Albert with heavy and wrong steps walked down the street. He felt extreme heaviness in his legs, some invisible force threw him from side to side, but he kept walking forward towards Anna Ivanovna’s apartment. Strange, incoherent thoughts roamed in his head.

He recalled the subject of his passion and a terrible night in the theater. But, despite the incoherence, all these memories seemed so bright to him that, having closed his eyes, he did not know that there was more reality.

Walking along the Malaya Morskaya, Albert stumbled and fell. Waking up for a moment, he saw in front of him some huge, magnificent building. And Albert entered the wide door. It was dark inside. Some irresistible force pulled him forward to the deepening of the huge hall ... There was some kind of elevation, and some small people stood silently around him.

On a dais stood a tall thin man in a colorful coat. Albert immediately recognized his friend artist Petrov. “No brothers! - said Petrov, pointing to someone. - You did not understand the person who lived between you! He is not a corrupt artist, not a mechanical performer, not a crazy, not a lost person. He is a genius who died among you unnoticed and unappreciated. " Albert immediately understood who his friend was talking about; but, not wanting to restrain him, out of modesty bowed his head.

“He, like a straw, burned all of that sacred fire that we all serve,” the voice continued, “but he fulfilled all that was put into him by God; for this he must be called a great man.He loves one thing - beauty, the only undoubted good in the world. Nice, drop everything in front of him! ” He cried out loudly.

But another voice spoke quietly from the opposite corner of the hall. “I do not want to fall in front of him,” Albert immediately recognized Delesov’s voice. - How big is he? Was he honest? Did he benefit society? Do we not know how he borrowed money and did not give it back, how he took the violin from his fellow artist and pawned it? .. (“Oh my God! How does he know all this!” - Albert thought.) Don't we know how did he flatter over money? We don’t know how he was kicked out of the theater? ”

“Stop it! - again spoke the voice of Petrov. “What right do you have to blame him?” Did you live his life? (“True, true!” Albert whispered.) Art is the highest manifestation of power in man. It is given to the rare few and raises them to such a height that the head is spinning and it is difficult to stay healthy. In art, as in any struggle, there are heroes who surrendered everything to their ministry and perished, not reaching the goal. Yes, humiliate, despise him, and of all of us he is the best and happiest! ”

Albert, with a bliss in his heart listening to these words, could not stand it, went up to a friend and wanted to kiss him.

“Get out, I don’t know you,” answered Petrov, “go your way, otherwise you won’t reach ...”

- See, you got it! You won’t get there, ”the booth cried out at the intersection.

Anna Ivanovna had a few steps to go. Clutching his railing with frozen hands, Albert ran up the stairs and rang the bell.

- You can’t! Shouted the sleepy maid. “Not ordered to let you in,” and slammed the door.

Albert sat on the floor, leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. At the same instant, crowds of incoherent visions surrounded him with renewed vigor and carried him off somewhere, into a free and beautiful area of ​​daydreaming.

In the nearest church the gospel was heard, he said: “Yes, he is the best and the happiest!” But I’ll go back to the hall, Albert thought. “Petrov still has a lot to say to me.” There was already no one in the hall, and instead of the artist Petrov, Albert himself stood on a raised platform and played the violin. But the violin was a strange device: it was all made of glass. And she had to be hugged with both hands and slowly pressed to her chest so that she made sounds. The harder he pressed the violin to his chest, the more pleasant and sweeter he became. The louder the sounds became, the more shadows scattered and the walls of the hall were more illuminated with transparent light. But it was necessary to play the violin very carefully so as not to crush it. Albert played such things that he felt that no one would ever hear again. He was already starting to get tired when another distant muffled sound entertained him. It was the sound of a bell, but this sound said: “Yes. He seems pathetic to you, you despise him, but he is the best and happiest! No one will ever play this instrument again. ” Albert stopped playing, raised his hands and eyes to the sky. He felt beautiful and happy. Despite the fact that there was nobody in the room, Albert straightened his chest and, proudly raising his head, stood on a hill so that everyone could see him.

Suddenly a hand touched his shoulder lightly; he turned around and saw the woman in half the light. She looked at him sadly and shook her head. He immediately realized that what he was doing was bad, and he felt ashamed of himself. It was the one he loved. She took his hand and led him out of the hall. On the threshold of the hall, Albert saw the moon and water. But the water was not below, as is usually the case, and the moon was not above. The moon and water were together and everywhere. Albert with her rushed into the moon and the water and realized that now he can hug the one he loved more than anything in the world; he hugged her and felt unbearable happiness.

And then he felt that something inexpressible happiness, which he enjoyed at the present moment, had passed and never would return. "What am I crying for?" He asked her. She silently looked sadly at him. Albert realized what she wanted to say by that. “Why, when I'm alive,” he said. Something pressed Albert harder and harder. Whether it was the moon and the water, its hugs or tears, he did not know, but he felt that he would not say everything that was needed, and that it would all be over soon.

Two guests, leaving from Anna Ivanovna, stumbled upon Albert stretched out on the threshold. One of them returned and called the mistress.

“After all, this is godless,” he said, “you could have frozen a man like that.”

“Ah, that Albert is for me,” answered the hostess. “Put it somewhere in the room,” she said to the maid.

“Yes, I'm alive. Why bury me?” Muttered Albert, while he, insensitive, was brought into the rooms.