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, drove again into that birch grove in which this old, gnarled oak struck him so strangely and memorable. The bells rang even more muffled in the forest than a month ago; everything was full, shady and dense; and young firs, scattered throughout the forest, did not violate the general beauty and, imitating general character, gently green with fluffy young shoots. 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. The left side of the forest was dark, in shadow; the right one, wet, glossy, shone in the sun, slightly swaying in the wind. Everything was in bloom; the nightingales chirped and rolled now close, now far away. “Yes, here, in this forest, there was this oak, with which we agreed,” thought Prince Andrei. — Where is he? ” thought Prince Andrei again, looking at the left side of the road and, without knowing it himself, without recognizing him, admired the oak he was looking for. The old oak, all transformed, spread out like a tent of juicy, dark greenery, was thrilled, slightly swaying in the rays of the evening sun. No clumsy fingers, no sores, no old grief and distrust - nothing was visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the hundred-year-old hard bark without knots, so that it was impossible to believe that the old man had produced them. “Yes, this is the same oak,” thought Prince Andrei, and a causeless spring feeling of joy and renewal suddenly came over him. All the best moments of his life were suddenly remembered to him at the same time. And Austerlitz with a 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 he suddenly remembered all this. “No, life is not over even for thirty-one years,” Prince Andrei suddenly decided without change. - Not only do I know everything that is in me, it is necessary that everyone knows this: both Pierre and this girl who wanted to fly into the sky, it is necessary that everyone knows me, so that my life goes not for me alone. life, so that they do not live like this girl, regardless of my life, so that it is reflected in everyone and so that they all live with me together! Returning from this trip, Prince Andrei decided to go to 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 Petersburg and even serve, was every minute ready for his services. 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 come to him. It seemed clear to him that all his experiences in life must have been lost in vain and be nonsense if he had not put them to work and had not again taken an active part in life. He did not even understand how, on the basis of the same poor rational arguments, it had previously been obvious that he would be humiliated if now, after his lessons in life, he would again believe in the possibility of being useful and in the possibility of happiness and love. Now my mind was telling me something else. After this trip, Prince Andrei began to get bored in the countryside, 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 turned away and looked at the portrait of the deceased Liza, who, with curls whipped à la grecque, tenderly and cheerfully looked at him from a golden frame. She no longer spoke the former terrible words to her husband, she simply and cheerfully looked at him with curiosity. And Prince Andrei, with his hands clasped back, paced the room for a long time, now frowning, now smiling, rethinking those unreasonable, inexpressible in words, secret, like a crime, thoughts connected with Pierre, with fame, with the girl at the window, with the oak, with the woman's beauty and love that changed his whole life. And in those moments, when someone came to him, he was especially dry, strict, resolute, and especially unpleasantly logical. “Mon cher,” Princess Mary used to say, entering at such a moment. - Nikolushka cannot go for a walk today: it is very cold. “If it were warm,” Prince Andrei answered his sister especially dryly at such moments, “he would go in one shirt, and since it’s cold, you need to put on warm clothes, which are invented for this, that’s what follows from that that it’s cold, and not just to stay at home when the child needs air,” he said with special logic, as if punishing someone for all this secret, illogical thing that was happening in him inner work. Princess Marya thought in these cases about how this mental work dries men.

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, drove again into that birch grove in which this old, gnarled oak struck him so strangely and memorable. The bells rang even more muffled in the forest than a month and a half ago; everything was full, shady and thick; and young spruce trees scattered throughout the forest did not disturb the general beauty and, imitation of the general character, tenderly turned green with fluffy young shoots.

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. The left side of the forest was dark, in shadow; the right one, wet and glossy, shone in the sun, slightly swaying in the wind. Everything was in bloom; the nightingales chirped and rolled now close, now far away.

“Yes, here, in this forest, there was this oak, with which we agreed,” thought Prince Andrei. “Yes, where is he,” thought Prince Andrei again, looking at the left side of the road and without knowing it, not recognizing him, admired the oak he was looking for. The old oak, all transformed, spread out like a tent of juicy, dark greenery, was thrilled, slightly swaying in the rays of the evening sun. No clumsy fingers, no sores, no old distrust and grief - nothing was visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the tough, hundred-year-old bark without knots, so that it was impossible to believe that this old man had produced them. “Yes, this is the same oak tree,” thought Prince Andrei, and a causeless, spring feeling of joy and renewal suddenly came over him. All the best moments of his life were suddenly remembered to him at the same time. And Austerlitz with a high sky, and the dead, reproachful face of his wife, and Pierre on the ferry, and the girl, agitated by the beauty of the night, and this night, and the moon, - and he suddenly remembered all this.

“No, life is not over at the age of 31, suddenly, Prince Andrei decided completely, without change. Not only do I know everything that is in me, it is necessary that everyone knows this: both Pierre and this girl who wanted to fly into the sky, it is necessary that everyone knows me, so that my life goes not for me alone so that they do not live like this girl, regardless of my life, so that it is reflected on everyone and that they all live with me together!

Returning from his trip, Prince Andrei decided to go to 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 Petersburg and even serve, was every minute ready for his services. 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 come to him. It seemed clear to him that all his experiences in life must have been lost in vain and be nonsense if he had not put them to work and had not again taken an active part in life. He did not even understand how, on the basis of the same poor rational arguments, it had previously been obvious that he would be humiliated if now, after his lessons in life, he would again believe in the possibility of being useful and in the possibility of happiness and love. Now my mind was telling me something else. After this trip, Prince Andrei began to get bored in the countryside, 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 turned away and looked at the portrait of the deceased Liza, who, with curls whipped à la grecque, tenderly and cheerfully looked at him from a golden frame. She no longer spoke the former terrible words to her husband, she simply and cheerfully looked at him with curiosity. And Prince Andrei, with his hands folded back, paced the room for a long time, now frowning, now smiling, rethinking those unreasonable, inexpressible in words, secret as a crime thoughts connected with Pierre, with fame, with the girl at the window, with the oak, with female beauty and love that changed his whole life. And at those moments, when someone came to him, he was especially dry, sternly resolute, and especially unpleasantly logical.

Mon cher, - Princess Mary used to say, entering at such a moment, - Nikolushka cannot go for a walk today: it is very cold.

If it were warm, - at such moments Prince Andrei answered his sister especially dryly, - then he would go in one shirt, and since it is cold, you need to put on warm clothes, which are invented for this. That’s what follows from the fact that it’s cold, and not just to stay at home when the child needs air, ”he said with particular logic, as if punishing someone for all this secret, illogical inner work that took place in him. Princess Marya thought in these cases about how this mental work dries men.

"Yes, here, in this forest, there was this oak, with which we agreed," thought Prince Andrei. “Yes, where is he,” thought Prince Andrei again, looking at the left side of the road and without knowing it, not recognizing him, admired the oak he was looking for. The old oak, all transformed, spread out like a tent of juicy, dark greenery, was thrilled, slightly swaying in the rays of the evening sun. No clumsy fingers, no sores, no old distrust and grief - nothing was visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the tough, hundred-year-old bark without knots, so that it was impossible to believe that this old man had produced them. “Yes, this is the same oak tree,” thought Prince Andrei, and a causeless, spring feeling of joy and renewal suddenly came over him. All the best moments of his life were suddenly remembered to him at the same time. And Austerlitz with a high sky, and the dead, reproachful face of his wife, and Pierre on the ferry, and the girl, agitated by the beauty of the night, and this night, and the moon, - and he suddenly remembered all this.

“No, life is not over at the age of 31, Prince Andrei suddenly decided completely, invariably. Not only do I know everything that is in me, it is necessary that everyone knows this: both Pierre and this girl who wanted to fly away into heaven, it is necessary that everyone know me, so that my life does not go on for me alone, so that they do not live so independently of my life, so that it is reflected on everyone and that they all live with me together! & Yes, here in this forest was that oak, with whom we agreed", thought Prince Andrew. & Yes, where he ", again thought Prince Andrew, looking at the left side of the road and without knowing it, not recognizing him, admiring the oak, which he sought. Old oak , all transformed , stretched tent lush , dark green , thrilled , slightly swaying in the evening sun . Neither gnarled fingers nor sores or old distrust and grief - nothing could be seen. Through tough, century-crust broke without knots succulent young leaves, so that it was impossible to believe that the old man made them. & Yes, this is the oak & quot ;, thought Prince Andrew , and he suddenly found wanton , springtime feeling of joy and renewal. All the best moments of his life suddenly in the same time to remember him. And Austerlitz high heaven, and the dead, reproachful face of his wife, and Pierre on the ferry, and a girl, excited by the beauty of the night, and the night, and the moon - and all of a sudden he remembered.

& No, life is not over in 31 years, suddenly finally, invariably decided to Prince Andrew. Not only that, I know all that is in me, it is necessary that all knew it: and Pierre, and the girl who wanted to fly in the sky, it is necessary that everyone knew me, no one to me was my life so as not they lived so regardless of my life , that it reflects at all , and that they all lived together with me ! &

that we live “in defiance of reason, in defiance of the elements.”2 This is said, in fact, about the tailcoat. But this applies, of course, to many other things as well.
They say: in the Tsushima battle, the sun shone in our eyes, while the Japanese had it behind their backs. The wind also did not get along with us, and helped the Japanese, I don’t know how exactly. Let's add at the same time both other elements: the water turned out to be unfavorable for us, it sank our somehow well-coordinated ships, and the earth ... the earth nearby was Japanese. Of course, she helped our enemy. From its shores, a cloud of destroyers flew into our bewildered squadron.
I read somewhere that the guns on Nebogatov's ships were rusty. Incredible. But what can be done with the enmity of the elements? The roofs of the houses rust in the rain, why shouldn't the cannons also rust.
The elements are hostile to us. Our dislike and the elements are mutual. None of the elements are nice to us.
The sun, fire, a fiery, passionate luminary, a source of light and heat. We stubbornly turn away from the sun. From the world. From every retinue. Our education is in decline. Our clothes are dark and boring. Our dwellings are gloomy and harsh. Our children are wrapped up so that the sun does not burn their skin.
The wind that blows freely, knows no barriers and barriers, the wind is a sorcerer, with a mighty breath enlivening the wide expanses of the earth ... We are afraid of it. We do not tolerate it. We protected ourselves from it with walls, and we try to build them up to the sky, and cover up all the cracks in them. So as not to winnow, self-willed, disorderly, impudent violator of musty peace.
Water, flowing freely and, however, obedient to the law of gravitation, pure, cold, equalizing everyone with its wet and cold embraces .. What do we need in it? We are overgrown with all kinds of dirt, we love the impurity and decay of our stinking life. We protect ourselves from the excesses of waters falling from the sky with galoshes, umbrellas, raincoats. Our children are afraid of water, and the bold ones easily drown in it because they cannot learn to swim. It's so difficult for us.
Earth, soft, damp, soothing, a mother feeding all her children ... We took care of most of all to divide it, and separated mine and your land - and we are all cramped in the earthly expanses. And we are going to die in order to take away their land from a peaceful people, and we think that this taking away of someone else's is a great feat, for which our children should be grateful to us. And what is the land for our children? They do not know her tender and gentle touches, they do not run barefoot on her soft and green grass, on her loose sand.
We do not love the elements, and the just elements do not love us. They are benevolent to our enemy, and help him in the great historical struggle, because they repay him with love for love.
Look at Japanese paintings. How much light, what a living sun is felt in them! The Japanese took the emblem of their state rising Sun because they loved this royal luminary, joyful and blissful, immeasurably. It is equally good for the good and the bad. But only the good and the strong love him. And so it sends its best gifts. And the Japanese joyfully bask in the rays of their sun. Joyfully they open their bodies to the sun, and the gold of molten sunbeams overflows over their skin with a delightful flame of strength and cheerfulness.
Cheerfully they set their sails, and the wind carries their boats into the wide sea. He flutters their light robes, and his touches to their body are gentle and loving.
The water embraced their beautiful islands with a blue, shattered necklace. How related they are to this mobile element! How easily they are drawn to the unknown, to the new! And we still do not know where they will sail on their marvelous ships.
They love the earth with the amazing love of a lover. How they cultivate it! Their whole country became a quaint garden and vegetable garden.
Our enemy lives in friendship with the elements, and the elements, free and eternal, have become his faithful allies. We cannot terminate this union. But no one prevents us from entering it.

And if we ourselves have already become so stagnant in our artificial and urban life, in the life of small and timid philistines, then let us at least introduce our children and our young men into the free world of nature, let us make friends with the sweet, eternally free and eternally blissful elements. Friendship with them is joyful, but their love does not pamper, because they are both gentle and at the same time severe. Their joy is the joy of courage and strength.
In the cities and outside the cities, the sun shines everywhere. Let the growing people not hide in the gloomy caves of our dwellings from the good sun.
Let air, light, earth and water freely embrace their bodies. To become friends, get used to each other, they become related to the free elements. So that they themselves become, like the elements, just as pure, innocent, truthful, gentle and harsh.

(Based on the lines: L.N. Tolstoy. War and Peace. Volume 2, part three, chapter I, III.)

At the edge of the road stood an oak that had grown to the sky.
Probably ten times older than the birches that made up the forest,
he was ten times thicker and stronger at times,
and twice as high as each birch.
It was a huge, two-girth oak that had stood here for centuries,
with broken, long seen, bitches
and with a broken bark, overgrown with old sores,
with their huge, clumsy, asymmetrically splayed,
clumsy hands and fingers -
before us
he is an old, angry and contemptuous freak
stood between the smiling birches.
Only he alone did not want to obey the charm of spring
and did not want to see either the sun or spring.
"Spring, and love, and happiness!" - as if said this oak, -
"And how do you not get tired of all the same
stupid and senseless deceit.
And everything is a lie, everything is the same!
There is no spring, no sun, no happiness in the worlds of ages.
Look, the crushed dead firs are sitting,
always alone - the world is like that.
And there I spread my broken, peeled fingers,
wherever they grew - from the back, from the sides;
how I grew up - so I stand,
I don't believe in your hopes and deceptions.
... Flowers and grass were under the oak, but he was still frowning at them,
motionless, ugly and stubbornly stood in the midst of them.
“Yes, he is right, this oak that sees heaven is a thousand times right ...
let others, young ones, again succumb to this deception, listening to someone's voices,
that life is not always doomed,
but we know life – our life is over!”
...
It was already the beginning of June...
The bells rang even more muffled in the forest than a month and a half ago;
everything was full, shady and thick; and green like a huge garden;
and young fir trees scattered throughout the forest did not violate the general beauty created over the centuries,
and, masquerading as a general character,
gently green with fluffy young shoots.
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, where the birch flaunted.
The left side of the forest was dark, in shadow;
the right one - wet, glossy - shone in the sun, slightly swaying in the wind.
Everything was in bloom!
The nightingales chirped and rolled now close, now far, rejoicing in the summer!
"Yes, here in this forest there was this oak that we agreed with."
“But where is he?” I thought again, looking at the left side of the road,
and, without knowing it, not recognizing him as he was during the spring -
admired that oak, whose branches were so beautiful and dear to the heart.
Old oak, all transformed,
spread out like a tent of juicy dark greenery,
thrilled, slightly swaying in the rays of the evening sun, plausibly.
No clumsy fingers, no sores, no old mistrust and grief -
nothing was visible.
Juicy, young leaves made their way through the tough, hundred-year-old bark without knots -
so that it was impossible to believe that this old man produced them - the spell of being.
“Yes, this is the same oak tree,” I immediately thought – a miracle, a phenomenon!
And I found a causeless, spring feeling of joy and renewal.
All the best moments of life were suddenly remembered to him at the same time! .. Life is not doomed!
...No, life is not over!

–––––––––
L.N. Tolstoy. War and Peace. Volume 2, part three, chapter I, III, (excerpt).

There was an oak at the edge of the road. Probably ten times older than the birches that made up the forest, it was ten times thicker and twice as tall as each birch. It was a huge oak tree in two girths with broken branches, which can be seen for a long time, and with broken bark, overgrown with old sores. With his huge clumsy, asymmetrically spread, clumsy hands and fingers, he stood between the smiling birches, an old, angry and contemptuous freak. Only he alone did not want to submit to the charm of spring and did not want to see either spring or the sun.
"Spring, and love, and happiness!" - this oak seemed to be saying, - “and how you don’t get tired of the same stupid and senseless deceit. Everything is the same, and everything is a lie! There is no spring, no sun, no happiness. There, look, crushed dead firs are sitting, always alone, and there I spread my broken, peeled fingers, wherever they grew - from the back, from the sides; as they grew up, so I stand, and I do not believe your hopes and deceptions.
Prince Andrei looked back at this oak tree several times as he rode through the forest, as if he was expecting something from him. There were flowers and grass under the oak, but he still, frowning, motionless, ugly and stubbornly, stood in the middle of them.
“Yes, he is right, this oak is a thousand times right,” thought Prince Andrei, let others, young ones, again succumb to this deception, and we know life, our life is over! Whole new row hopeless thoughts, but sadly pleasant in connection with this oak, arose in the soul of Prince Andrei. During this journey, it was as if he thought over his whole life again, and came to the same calming and hopeless conclusion that he had no need to start anything, that he should live his life without doing evil, without worrying and desiring nothing. ..
...
It was already the beginning of June, when Prince Andrei, returning home, drove again into that birch grove in which this old, gnarled oak struck him so strangely and memorable. The bells rang even more muffled in the forest than a month and a half ago; everything was full, shady and thick; and young spruce trees scattered throughout the forest did not disturb the general beauty and, imitation of the general character, tenderly turned green with fluffy young shoots.
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. The left side of the forest was dark, in shadow; the right one, wet and glossy, shone in the sun, slightly swaying in the wind. Everything was in bloom; the nightingales chirped and rolled now close, now far away.
“Yes, here, in this forest, there was this oak, with which we agreed,” thought Prince Andrei. “Yes, where is he,” thought Prince Andrei again, looking at the left side of the road and without knowing it, not recognizing him, admired the oak he was looking for. The old oak, all transformed, spread out like a tent of juicy, dark greenery, was thrilled, slightly swaying in the rays of the evening sun. No clumsy fingers, no sores, no old distrust and grief - nothing was visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the tough, hundred-year-old bark without knots, so that it was impossible to believe that this old man had produced them. “Yes, this is the same oak tree,” thought Prince Andrei, and a causeless, spring feeling of joy and renewal suddenly came over him. All the best moments of his life were suddenly remembered to him at the same time.
...No, life is not over.

(photo - painting by I.I. Shishkin)