L.N. Tolstoy "War and Peace" Meeting of Prince Andrei Bolkonsky with an oak tree
"...On the edge of the road stood an oak tree. It was probably ten times older than the birches that made up the forest, ten times thicker and twice as tall as each birch. It was a huge oak tree, twice the girth, with broken branches and bark , overgrown with old sores. With huge, clumsily, asymmetrically splayed, gnarled arms and fingers, he stood like an old, angry and contemptuous freak between the smiling birches. Only he alone did not want to submit to the charm of spring and did not want to see either spring or the sun.
This oak tree seemed to say: “Spring, and love, and happiness! And how can you not get tired of the same stupid, senseless deception! Everything is the same, and everything is a lie! There is no spring, no sun, no happiness. Look, there are the crushed dead spruce trees sitting, always alone, and there I spread out my broken, skinned fingers, growing from the back, from the sides - anywhere. As I grew up, I still stand, and I don’t believe your hopes and deceptions.”
Prince Andrei looked back at this oak tree several times while driving through the forest. There were flowers and grass under the oak tree, but he still stood in the middle of them, gloomy, motionless, ugly and stubborn.
“Yes, he’s right, this oak tree is right a thousand times,” thought Prince Andrei. “Let others, young people, succumb to this deception again, but we know: our life is over!” A whole series of thoughts, hopeless, but sadly pleasant, in connection with this oak tree arose in the soul of Prince Andrei. During this journey, he seemed to think over his whole life again and came to the same reassuring and hopeless conclusion that he did not need to start anything, that he should live out his life without doing evil, without worrying and without wanting anything...
It was already the beginning of June when Prince Andrei, returning home, again entered that birch grove, in which this old, gnarled oak struck him so strangely and memorably. “Here in this forest there was this oak tree that we agreed with. Where is he? - thought Prince Andrei, looking at left side roads. Without knowing it, he admired the oak tree he was looking for, but now he did not recognize it.
The old oak tree, completely transformed, spread out like a tent of lush, dark greenery, swayed slightly, swaying slightly in the rays of the evening sun. No gnarled fingers, no sores, no old grief and mistrust - nothing was visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the hundred-year-old hard bark without knots, so it was impossible to believe that it was the old man who produced them. “Yes, this is the same oak tree,” thought Prince Andrei, and suddenly an unreasonable spring feeling of joy and renewal came over him. All the best moments of his life suddenly came back to him at the same time. And Austerlitz with the high sky, and Pierre on the ferry, and the girl excited by the beauty of the night, and this night, and the moon - all this suddenly came to his mind.
“No, life is not over at thirty-one,” Prince Andrei suddenly finally and irrevocably decided. - Not only do I know everything that is in me, it is necessary that everyone knows it: both Pierre and this girl who wanted to fly into the sky. It is necessary that my life should not go on for me alone, that it should be reflected on everyone and that they all live with me together.”
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It was already the beginning of June when Prince Andrei, returning home, again drove into that birch grove in which this old, gnarled oak had struck him so strangely and memorably. The bells rang even more muffled in the forest than a month and a half ago; everything was full, shady and dense; and young spruce trees scattered throughout the forest did not disturb the overall beauty and, imitating general character, gently green with fluffy young shoots. “Yes, here, in this forest, there was this oak tree with which we agreed,” thought Prince Andrei. “Where is he,” Prince Andrei thought again, looking at the left side of the road and without knowing it, without recognizing him, he admired the oak tree that he was looking for. an old oak, completely transformed, spread out like a tent of lush, dark greenery, was thrilled, slightly swaying in the rays of the evening sun. No gnarled fingers, no sores, no old mistrust and grief - nothing was visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the tough, hundred-year-old bark without knots, so it was impossible to believe that this old man had produced them. “Yes, this is that same oak tree,” thought Prince Andrei, and suddenly an unreasonable, spring feeling of joy and renewal came over him. All the best moments of his life suddenly came back to him at the same time. And Austerlitz with the high sky, and the dead, reproachful face of his wife, and Pierre on the ferry, and the girl excited by the beauty of the night, and this night, and the moon - and all this suddenly came to his mind. “No, life is not over at the age of 31, Prince Andrei suddenly finally, permanently decided. Not only do I know everything that is in me, it is necessary for everyone to know it: both Pierre and this girl who wanted to fly into the sky, it is necessary for everyone to know me, so that my life does not go on for me alone So that they don’t live so independently of my life, so that it affects everyone and so that they all live with me!”
It was already the beginning of June when Prince Andrei, returning home, again drove into that birch grove in which this old, gnarled oak had struck him so strangely and memorably. The bells rang even more muffled in the forest than a month and a half ago; everything was full, shady and dense; and the young spruces, scattered throughout the forest, did not disturb the overall beauty and, imitating the general character, were tenderly green with fluffy young shoots. “Yes, here, in this forest, there was this oak tree with which we agreed,” thought Prince Andrei. “Where is he,” Prince Andrei thought again, looking at the left side of the road and without knowing it, without recognizing him, he admired the oak tree that he was looking for. The old oak tree, completely transformed, spread out like a tent of lush, dark greenery, swayed slightly, swaying slightly in the rays of the evening sun. No gnarled fingers, no sores, no old mistrust and grief - nothing was visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the tough, hundred-year-old bark without knots, so it was impossible to believe that this old man had produced them. “Yes, this is that same oak tree,” thought Prince Andrei, and suddenly an unreasonable, spring feeling of joy and renewal came over him. All the best moments of his life suddenly came back to him at the same time. And Austerlitz with the high sky, and the dead, reproachful face of his wife, and Pierre on the ferry, and the girl excited by the beauty of the night, and this night, and the moon - and all this suddenly came to his mind. “No, life is not over at the age of 31, Prince Andrei suddenly finally, permanently decided. Not only do I know everything that is in me, it is necessary for everyone to know it: both Pierre and this girl who wanted to fly into the sky, it is necessary for everyone to know me, so that my life does not go on for me alone So that they don’t live so independently of my life, so that it affects everyone and so that they all live with me!”
(1) It was already the beginning of June when, returning home, we drove into a birch grove. (2) The whole day was hot, a thunderstorm was gathering somewhere, but only a small cloud splashed on the dust of the road and on the succulent leaves. (3) The left side of the forest was dark, in shadow. (4) The right one, wet, glistened in the sun, slightly swaying in the wind. (5) Everything was in bloom; the nightingales chattered and rolled, now close, now far away. (6) The wind was not heard in the forest. (7) The birch, all covered with green sticky leaves, did not move, and from under last year’s leaves, lifting them, the first grass crawled out, turning green and purple flowers. (8) Small spruce trees scattered here and there throughout the birch forest, with their coarse, eternal greenness, unpleasantly reminded of winter.
(9) There was an oak tree on the edge of the road. (10) Probably ten times older than the birches that made up the forest, it was ten times thicker and twice as tall as each birch. (11) It was a huge oak tree, twice the girth, with branches that had been broken off for a long time and with broken bark overgrown with old sores. (12) With his huge, clumsily splayed, gnarled hands and fingers, he stood like an old, angry and contemptuous freak between the smiling birch trees. (13) Only he alone did not want to submit to spring, its charm, and did not want to see either the sun or its first rays.
(14) This oak tree seemed to say that there is no spring, no sun, no happiness. (15) The crushed dead spruce trees were visible, always alone, and there he was, spreading out his broken, tattered branches. (16) As he grew up, he stands still, and does not believe in either hopes or deceptions...
Please help me find epithets in this text and write what they show? what role do they play? The hunting season was already drawing to a close when Ianone frosty morning went to the big Pine forest . On the way he met a woodcutter. This woodcutter told Ian that he saw in the forest an important woman [an important woman is a female deer] and a giant deer, which “had a whole forest of antlers on its head.” Jan headed straight to the forest that the woodcutter had pointed out to him, and indeed soon picked up the tracks. One of them resembled the track that Ian had once seen by the stream, the other - huge - undoubtedly belonged to the Sand Hills deer. The beast awakened in Yan again: he was ready to howl, like a wolf sensing game. The tracks led through forests and hills, and along them rushed Jan, or rather the wolf into which the hunter had turned. All day the deer circled, moving from place to place in search of food, only occasionally stopping to eat a little snow, which replaced their water. All day long he followed the tracks and noted every little detail with sophisticated observation, rejoicing that the tracks this time were imprinted especially sharply on the soft snow. Freed from unnecessary clothes and things that got in his way, Ian silently moved forward and forward. Suddenly something flashed in the distance among the bushes. "Maybe it's a bird?" - Ian thought, hiding and peering carefully. A gray object stood out slightly against the gray background of the bushes, and at first it seemed to Ian that it was just a log with gnarled branches at one end. But then the gray spot moved, the gnarled branches rose higher for a moment, and Ian trembled... It immediately became clear to him: the gray spot in the bushes was a deer, the deer of the Sandy Hills! How majestic and full of life he was! Ian looked at him in awe. To shoot at him now, when he was resting, unaware of the danger, would be a crime... But Ian had been yearning for this meeting for months. He must shoot. The emotional excitement grew, and Ian’s nerves could not stand it: the raised gun trembled in his hands, he could not aim well. His breathing became irregular, he was almost suffocating. Ian lowered the aimed gun... His whole body trembled with excitement. A few moments passed, and Yang regained control of himself. His hand no longer trembled, his eyes clearly distinguished the target. And why is he so worried - after all, in front of him is just a deer! But at that moment the deer turned its head, and Ian clearly distinguished its thoughtful eyes, large ears and nostrils. "Will you really decide to kill me?" - the deer seemed to say when his gaze settled on Yana. Ian was confused again. A shiver ran through his body. But he knew that it was just “hunting fever.” At that moment he despised this feeling, although later he learned to respect it. Finally, the wolf inside Ian forced him to shoot. The shot was unsuccessful. The deer jumped up; An important woman appeared next to him. Another shot - again unsuccessful... Following this, a whole series of shots... But the deer had already managed to hide, quickly jumping from one low hill to another.
The next day, having said goodbye to only one count, without waiting for the ladies to leave, Prince Andrei went home. It was already the beginning of June when Prince Andrei, returning home, again drove into that birch grove in which this old, gnarled oak had struck him so strangely and memorably. The bells rang even more muffled in the forest than a month ago; everything was full, shady and dense; and the young spruces, scattered throughout the forest, did not disturb the overall beauty and, imitating the general character, were tenderly green with fluffy young shoots. It was hot all day, a thunderstorm was gathering somewhere, but only a small cloud splashed on the dust of the road and on the succulent leaves. The left side of the forest was dark, in shadow; the right one, wet, glossy, glistened in the sun, slightly swaying in the wind. Everything was in bloom; the nightingales chattered and rolled, now close, now far away. “Yes, here, in this forest, there was this oak tree with which we agreed,” thought Prince Andrei. - Where is he? “- Prince Andrei thought again, looking at the left side of the road and, without knowing it, without recognizing him, admired the oak tree that he was looking for. The old oak tree, completely transformed, spread out like a tent of lush, dark greenery, swayed slightly, swaying slightly in the rays of the evening sun. No gnarled fingers, no sores, no old grief and mistrust - nothing was visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the hundred-year-old hard bark without knots, so it was impossible to believe that it was the old man who produced them. “Yes, this is the same oak tree,” thought Prince Andrei, and suddenly an unreasonable spring feeling of joy and renewal came over him. All the best moments of his life suddenly came back to him at the same time. And Austerlitz with the high sky, and the dead, reproachful face of his wife, and Pierre on the ferry, and the girl excited by the beauty of the night, and this night, and the moon - and all this suddenly came to his mind. “No, life is not over even for thirty-one years,” Prince Andrei suddenly finally and irrevocably decided. “Not only do I know everything that is in me, it is necessary for everyone to know it: both Pierre and this girl who wanted to fly into the sky, it is necessary for everyone to know me, so that my life is not just for me.” life, so that they don’t live like this girl, regardless of my life, so that it affects everyone and so that they all live with me!” Returning from this trip, Prince Andrei decided to go to St. Petersburg in the fall and came up with various reasons for this decision. A whole series of reasonable, logical arguments why he needed to go to St. Petersburg and even serve were ready at his service every minute. Even now he did not understand how he could ever doubt the need to take an active part in life, just as a month ago he did not understand how the idea of leaving the village could have occurred to him. It seemed clear to him that all his experiences in life would have been in vain and would have been meaningless if he had not applied them to action and taken an active part in life again. He did not even understand how, on the basis of the same poor reasonable arguments, it had previously been obvious that he would have humiliated himself if now, after his life lessons, he again believed in the possibility of being useful and in the possibility of happiness and love. Now my mind suggested something completely different. After this trip, Prince Andrei began to get bored in the village, his previous activities did not interest him, and often, sitting alone in his office, he got up, went to the mirror and looked at his face for a long time. Then he would turn away and look at the portrait of the deceased Lisa, who, with curls fluffed à la grecque, tenderly and cheerfully looked at him from the golden frame. She no longer spoke the same terrible words to her husband; she simply and cheerfully looked at him with curiosity. And Prince Andrei, clasping his hands back, walked around the room for a long time, now frowning, now smiling, reconsidering those unreasonable, inexpressible in words, secret, like a crime, thoughts connected with Pierre, with fame, with the girl on the window, with the oak tree, with the woman. beauty and love that changed his whole life. And at these moments, when someone came to him, he was especially dry, strict, decisive and especially unpleasantly logical. “Mon cher,” Princess Marya would say, entering at such a moment. - Nikolushka can’t go for a walk today: it’s very cold. “If it were warm,” Prince Andrei answered his sister especially dryly at such moments, “then he would go in just a shirt, but since it’s cold, we need to put warm clothes on him, which were invented for this purpose, that’s what follows from that.” “that it’s cold, and not like staying at home when the child needs air,” he said with particular logic, as if punishing someone for all this secret, illogical inner work taking place in him. Princess Marya thought in these cases about how this mental work dries out men.