Years of life: from 03/31/1926 to 11/05/2005

John Robert Fowles - English writer, novelist and essayist. One of the outstanding representatives of postmodernism in literature.

Born into the family of a successful cigar merchant. He graduated from a prestigious school in Bedford, where during his studies he showed himself good athlete and a capable student. He soon entered the University of Edinburgh, but in 1945, shortly before the end of the Second World War, he left it for military service. After two years in the Marine Corps, Fowles gave up military career and entered Oxford University, specializing in French and German languages. In 1950-1963 Fowles taught at the University of Poitiers in France, then at a grammar school on the Greek island of Spetses, which served as the prototype for the setting in the novel “The Magus,” and at St. Godric’s College in London.

Fowles' first published novel, The Collector, brought him success and freed him from the need to earn a living as a teacher. Until the end of the 1960s, two more novels were published, large in volume and daring in concept - “The Magus” and “The French Lieutenant’s Woman”, as well as two editions of the book “Aristos”, the subtitle of which is “Self-Portrait in Ideas” - gives an idea of ​​both the content of this work and its significance for understanding the early stage of Fowles’s work.

In The Collector, The Magus and Aristos, the author's attention is focused on the problem of human freedom (its nature, limits and the associated sense of responsibility), as well as on the fundamental relationship between love, self-knowledge and freedom of choice. In fact, these problems determine the themes of all of Fowles's works. His heroes and heroines are nonconformists, striving to somehow realize themselves within the framework of a conformist society.

In 1963, the success of Fowles's first book allowed him to leave teaching and devote himself entirely to literary activity. In 1968, Fowles settled in the small town of Lyme Regis in the south of England. Most of He spent his life in his house on the seashore and gained fame as a reserved person. Interest in history, especially reflected in the novels “The French Lieutenant’s Mistress” and “The Worm,” was inherent in Fowles not only at his desk, since in 1979 the writer headed the city museum and held this post for ten years. Fowles’ health was seriously undermined by a stroke , which struck him in 1988. John Fowles was married twice, his first wife Elizabeth dying in 1990. Fowles' major works received world recognition, and the films based on them contributed to the popularity and commercial success of the writer’s books.

Awarded a prestigious literary prize The book "The French Lieutenant's Woman", according to many critics, best work Fowles. It is both experimental and historical novel, taking readers into a meticulously recreated Victorian world, but not for a moment allowing them to forget that they are modern people and are separated from what is happening by a huge historical distance. In the book "The Worm" the eighteenth century is described in as much detail as in "The French Lieutenant's Woman" - the nineteenth century. In the interval between the publications of these wonderful historical and experimental novels, two more examples of Fowles’ original prose were published - the gigantic epic “Daniel Martin” and the somewhat unexpected in its miniature story “Mantissa - a fantasy on the theme of the confrontation between the creator and his muse.

All subsequent books by Fowles: the novels “Daniel Martin,” “Mantissa,” the collection of short stories “The Ebony Tower,” “The Worm,” the collection “Poems” – in different years repeated this success, together creating an amazing, multifaceted and diverse world of Fowles, in which the entertainment The plot is complemented by complex, sometimes quite confusing philosophical considerations; a world in which the style of the Victorian novel is inseparable from Latin American “magical realism”; a world woven from a myriad of unexpected literary associations: from medieval French ballads to modern “absurdist” writers. Fowles always carries the mystery of a complex, sometimes very strange, sometimes not very charming - but always fascinating personality. Much in his novels remains completely “undecipherable”; Fowles never appears in the guise of some omniscient, wise author, inviting the reader to unravel with him. secrets of the human subconscious.

The writer also penned a number of magnificent translations from French; film scripts; literary critical articles; many other books and articles not related to the actual fiction and affecting so different topics, like Stonehenge and home canning, feminism and croquet.

Since 1968, Fowles has lived on the south coast of England - in the city of Lyme Regis. Symposiums dedicated to him are now held here.

In 1999, the writer published a book of essays, Wormholes. But now the time has come for publications about Fowles, like a book of interviews or the collection “Fowles and Nature,” where literary scholars analyze the role of landscape in the writer’s work.

Fowles did not limit himself to large literary form– he translated superbly from French, wrote film scripts and literary critical articles. His sphere of interests also included such things that, at first glance, did not deserve attention. famous writer and men, topics like home canning, feminism, playing croquet.

In his last interview, given in 2003, John Fowles complained about the increased and annoying attention to his person. "A writer, more or less famous, living alone, will always be pursued by readers. They want to see him, talk to him. And they do not realize that very often this gets on their nerves."

IN recent years Fowles was seriously ill during his life. On November 5, 2005, at the age of 80, the writer died.

Writer's Awards

According to the results of a national survey of British people called "The Big Read", conducted in 2004, John Fowles' novel "The Magus" was included in the hundred most popular and books read in the UK

For Readers Literary Names D. Fowles

John FOWLES

John Fowles "Eliduc":
Studying at Oxford French literature, I read everything indiscriminately, more out of ignorance than from great intelligence. I had very little idea about my real tastes, because I accepted the widely spread myth at that time that only teachers had the right to personal preferences. I would not recommend this approach to current students...

Internet resources

John Fowles

Welcome to John Fowles The Web Site, a site for those who appreciate the writing of one of the 20th centurys greatest authors. This is the only comprehensive website on John Fowles, and as such we strive to make it as interesting and useful as possible. These pages are updated frequently so be sure to bookmark and come back often.

John Fowles / John Fowles

This site is an attempt to bring together information scattered across the RuNet about the life and work of the English writer John Fowles.

Russian Literary Network: John Robert Fowles

Biography and personality

Online Encyclopedia Around the World
Fowles, John Robert (1926–2005) - English writer, whose popularity and canonical place in English literature have not been questioned for several decades now.

John Fowles to the BBC (October 1977)
Interview. Translation and introductory article by A. Babicheva
John Fowles: There is a certain relationship between the reader and the writer. But she disappeared in visual arts. The camera is akin to fascism: it seems to say that you are allowed to see only one specific image. It destroys the freedom of imagination that words and verbal signs are endowed with. That is why I am sure that the novel may die, but prose, the verbal sign, will never die, poetry will never die.

John Fowles. Biographical sketch
The basis of this essay is a free translation of an article by Peter Guttridge and some other sources, as well as a collection of essays called Wormholes.

Francisco Casavella. John Fowles, English writer who chose freedom, dies
He is the one who, through the story described, considers all aspects of the truth in the best way known to him, while realizing that he lives in a certain era, and he himself needs to hold his breath, not to allow those flames to escape from himself that can turn everything into commonplace and decay.

Savanna. John Fowles

Fowles John Robert, biography and biography

Anastasia Babicheva. John Fowles
Fowles is called one of the outstanding representatives of literary postmodernism. And, indeed, the writer with amazing accuracy and exhaustive completeness captured the face of his time - its ambiguity: its illness and, at the same time, recovery, its freedom and boundaries, its life and dying, its play.

People: John Fowles
Fowles's first published novel, The Collector (1963), brought him success and freed him from the need to earn a living as a teacher.

John Fowles was distinguished by an incredible breadth of hobbies - he was an ornithologist, naturalist, traveler, gardener, musician, film buff, book collector, and collector of rarities. He himself called the combination of his different incarnations “the John Fowles club.”

Fowles John. God games
The “Wide Format” program on the “Culture” TV channel with a story dedicated to the life and work of John Fowles.

Vladislav Oestreich. John Fowles

John Robert Fowles. Quotes

The best aphorisms, quotes and sayings of Fowles John Robert
At nineteen, a person does not agree to simply do things. It is important for him to justify them all the time. (Quote from the novel “The Magus”)

Works

Novels, novellas, stories

• "The Magus"
  I was born in 1927, the only son of poor Englishmen who, until their death, were unable to escape the shadow of the ugly dwarf, Queen Victoria, who fancifully stretched into the future. Finished school, spent two years in the army, entered Oxford; It was then that I began to understand that I was not at all what I wanted to be.
• "The French Lieutenant's Woman" ["The French Lieutenant's Mistress"]
  The east wind is more tolerable than any other on Lyme Bay (Lyme Bay is the deepest cut in the lower part of the leg that England extends to the south-west), and a curious person might at once make several well-founded guesses about the couple who one cold windy morning in At the end of March 1867 I went for a walk on the pier of Lyme Regis - a small but ancient town that gave its name to the bay.
• "Collector"
  When she came home from private school for the holidays, I could see her almost every day: their house stood across the road, right opposite the wing of the Town Hall where I worked. Every now and then she rushed somewhere, alone or together with her sister, or even with some young people. This was not to my taste at all.
• "The Prince and the Magician"
  Once upon a time there lived a prince who believed in everything except three things that he did not believe in. He didn't believe in princesses, he didn't believe in islands, and he didn't believe in God.
• "Worm"
  The last day of April, which is far from us. A line of horsemen advances across a remote moorland in the southwest of England. Spring has not yet reached this gloomy hill, the sky is covered with hopeless gloom, and an oppressive melancholy emanates from the satellites, understandable to anyone who has traveled at this dull time of year. The peat bog through which the path runs bristles with dead stems of heather.

Poetry

Articles about creativity

John Fowles. wormholes
A collection of autocritical essays by John Fowles, dedicated to his most famous novels.

John Fowles. Aristos
Collection philosophical reflections, in which, in particular, Fowles explains the concept of The Collector.

Andrey Krotkov. Mega-Europe and dirty English means. John Fowles: 25 years in the labyrinth of Russian convolutions
The Dorsetshire recluse, as the Western press called Fowles, entered the space of Russian literary perceptions in the role of a representative of “a young, unfamiliar tribe.” He really was defiantly unfamiliar and unusual and that’s what initially made him interesting.

Galina Yuzefovich. Gifts of the Magus
A writer who managed to give rise to at least one significant literary trend, to bring to life at least one generation of interpreters, followers and plagiarists, is rightfully considered great. How, in this regard, should we classify John Fowles, a man who grew alone on a tree? modern prose not one, but several branches at once?

Dmitry Bavilsky. In memory of John Fowles
Fowles is an outstanding professional, an intellectual in the most precise sense of the word. Fowles managed to talk about the most complex and esoteric metaphysical matters not only simply (his plot labyrinths are dizzying), but accessible. It seems that it is with Fowles that modern English fiction begins, where the importance of themes and the elegance of plot structures do not in any way affect the quality of presentation and commercial potential.

Victor Pelevin. John Fowles and the tragedy of Russian liberalism
John Fowles's novel "The Collector", which recently appeared in Russian, is called in a short preface an "erotic detective story." In a sense, this is a deception of the reader - under the guise of cabbage soup, they slip him turtle soup.

Ekaterina Dice. European civilizational identity in the novels of John Fowles

About the novel "The Magus"
History of writing and excerpts from critical articles.

Mira Tskhovrebova. Islands, Wells and Locked Rooms by John Fowles and Haruki Murakami (The Magus and The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle)
“Each of us,” says one of John Fowles’ heroes, “is an island.” “We are all waiting, locked in rooms where the phone will never ring,” another of his heroes states doomedly.

Gusarov Denis. John Fowles "The Magus"

Chronotopes of “The Magus”

Victor Sonkin. From island to island
"The Magus" appeared on time. Just at the moment when my peers and I were about the same age as the main character. At twenty and at thirty, his problems and torments would have seemed equally far-fetched. At twenty-five, they coincided quite closely with what we experienced in our very different lives.

John Fowles "The Magus" The problem of the game as self-identification of a person of the 20th century
In the 20th century in the West, and later in our country, the genre of books and games became very popular. Its meaning is that the author offers the reader a finite set of options for ending each chapter (they are usually short), and the reader chooses his own future fate(the fate of the hero).

Anastasia Babicheva. The Fowles Code: The True Story of a Genius
Critical article about the novel "The Worm".

I.V. Kabanova. The story of D. Fowles “The Ebony Tower”
From the book: I.V. Kabanova " Foreign literature", M.: Lyceum, 2002.

A.B. Temirbolate. Continuity of artistic traditions of the 17th–18th centuries in the prose of D. Fowles
About the novel "The French Lieutenant's Mistress".

- 5 November, Lyme Regis, Dorset) - English writer, novelist and essayist . One of the outstanding representatives postmodernism in literature. John Fowles was born on March 31, 1926 in Leigh-on-Sea (Essex) ) in the family of a successful cigar merchant Robert Fowles and his wife Gladys (née Richards). He graduated from a prestigious school in Bedford , where he was the head of the class and proved himself to be a good athlete, playing cricket . After graduating from high school, Fowles trained for service in the Navy under University of Edinburgh. May 8, 1945 - Victory in Europe Day - he completed training courses and was assigned to Royal Marines . After two years in the Marine Corps, Fowles abandoned his military career and joined Oxford University , specializing in French and German.

Interest in history, especially reflected in the novels “The French Lieutenant’s Woman” and “The Worm” (1986, the prototype main character became Anna Lee, the founder of the religious Protestant sect "Shakers"), was inherent in Fowles not only at the desk, since in 1979 the writer headed the city museum and held this post for ten years.

Fowles' health was seriously undermined by a stroke that struck him in 1988. In 1990, his wife Elizabeth died. Fowles later married a second time.

In the small town of Leigh-on-Sea, located about 40 miles from London in Essex (England), John Robert Fowles was born. Years of life: March 31, 1926 – November 5, 2005. His father was an importer of tobacco products. The mother died when the boy was only 6 years old. From the ages of 13 to 18, John attended a boarding school designed to prepare boys for university. After a short study at the University of Edinburgh, Fowles began early military service, where he spent two years (1945-1946). Second World War came to an end just at the time when the future writer began his preparation. It was then that he realized that he would never go into battle, military life not for him. After studying for four years at Oxford, John Fowles became acquainted with the works of French existentialists, in particular Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre. In 1950 he began to seriously consider his career as a writer. He also taught part-time English language, lectured on English literature. In 1951, Fowles met Elizabeth Christie, his first lover and wife. From 1954 to 1963, the writer held the position of head of department at St. Godric's College in London. While in Greece, Fowles begins to write poetry. But he does not publish all the works written from 1952 to 1960, since he considers them unfinished. At the end of 1960, the writer completed his first project, “The Collector,” in just 4 weeks. After 2 years, he took the work to the publishing house and within a year the book became a bestseller. In his books, he described reflections on art and human nature. According to the Times newspaper, Faust was named one of the 50 greatest writers since 1945. Since 1968, Fowles has lived on the coast of England and, thanks to his interest in local history city ​​became curator of the Lyme Regis Museum. After Elizabeth's death in 1990, Fowles married Sarah. The writer died in hospital on November 5, 2005.

Essex - 5 November 2005, Lyme Regis, Dorset) is an English writer, novelist and essayist. One of the outstanding representatives of postmodernism in literature.

Biography

Born into the family of a successful cigar merchant, Robert Fowles, and his wife Gladys (née Richards). John graduated from a prestigious school in Bedford, where he was head of the class and proved himself a good sportsman, playing cricket. He then trained for naval service at the University of Edinburgh, graduating on 8 May 1945 - Victory in Europe Day - and was assigned to the Royal Marines. After two years of service there, he abandoned his military career and entered Oxford University, specializing in French and German.

In 1950-1963 Fowles taught at the University of Poitiers in France, then at a grammar school on the Greek island of Spetses (which served as the inspiration for the setting of The Magus), and at St. Godric's College in London. On the island of Spetses he began to write without yet publishing. Subsequently, he called Greece his second homeland. In 1956 he married Elizabeth Christie, whose previous husband was also a teacher on the island. Elizabeth became his companion for 35 years; she had a huge influence on Fowles' personality and became the prototype for the main heroines of his novels.

In the 1970s, Fowles began to reconsider his views on existentialism. Main character his story “The Ebony Tower” (1974), faced with the need to choose between existential freedom and continuation ordinary life, chose the second one. The problem of searching for identity determines the plot and next novel Fowles - "Daniel Martin". Film writer Daniel Martin, according to Fowles, is the grown-up hero of "The Magus" Nicholas Urfe - and in many ways Fowles himself.

Interest in history, especially reflected in the novels “The French Lieutenant’s Woman” and “The Worm” (1986, the prototype of the main character was Anna Lee, founder of the religious Protestant sect “Shakers”), was inherent in Fowles not only at the desk, since in 1979 the writer headed the city museum and held this post for ten years.

Fowles' health was seriously undermined by a stroke that struck him in 1988. In 1990, his wife Elizabeth died. Fowles later married a second time.

Bibliography

Novels and stories

• "Collector" (eng. The Collector, , Russian translation by I. Bessmertnaya, )
• "The Magus" (English) The Magus, , revised into , Russian translation by B. Kuzminsky , ).
• "The French Lieutenant's Woman" The French Lieutenant's Woman , , Russian translation by M. Becker and I. Komarova, )
• "Ebony Tower" The Ebony Tower, , Russian translations by K. Chugunov, 1979, and I. Bessmertnaya, 2005)
• "Daniel Martin" Daniel Martin, , Russian translation by I. Bessmertnaya, );
• "Mantissa" (eng. Mantissa, , Russian translation by I. Bessmertnaya, ).
• "Worm" (also "Chrysalis"; eng. A Maggot, , Russian translations by V. Lanchikov as “Worm”, 1996, and A. Safronov, O. Serebryannaya as “Doll”, 2011).

Essay

• "Aristos" (English) The Aristos, , revised into , Russian translation by B. Kuzminsky, ) - a collection of philosophical reflections;
• "Shipwreck" Shipwreck, ) - text for the photo album;
• "Islands" (English) Islands, ) - text for the photo album;
• "Tree" (English) The Tree, ) - text for the photo album;
• "Wormholes" Wormholes - Essays and Occasional Writings , );
• "Diaries", volume 1 ()
• "Diaries", volume 2 ().
• "High Mountain Peaks of Knowledge" The high ridges of knowledge, 2000, Russian translation by A. Babicheva, 2008)

Poetry

Fowles also owns a collection of poems () and a number of translations from French, including an adaptation of the fairy tale “Cinderella”, translations of Claire de Duras’ novel “Ourika” and the medieval story “Eliduc”.

Fowles studies

The first monographs and collections of articles about Fowles’ novels appeared in the USA (W. Palmer, 1974) and France (Etudes sur “The French Lieutenant’s Woman” de John Fowles. Caen, 1977).

Film adaptations

• "Collector" The Collector) - American-British drama feature film William Wyler ().
• “Magician” (in another translation “Magician”, English. The Magus) - film directed by Guy Green ().
• "The French Lieutenant's Woman" The French Lieutenant's Woman) - film directed by Karel Reisz ().
• "Ebony Tower" The Ebony Tower) - film directed by Robert Knights ().

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Notes

Links

• in the library of Maxim Moshkov
• (English)
• John Fowles on the Internet Movie Database

Novels Non-fiction works Film adaptations

Excerpt characterizing Fowles, John

Rostov, shaking his neck, behind which water was flowing, smoked his pipe and listened inattentively, occasionally glancing at the young officer Ilyin, who was huddling next to him. This officer, a sixteen-year-old boy who had recently joined the regiment, was now in relation to Nikolai what Nikolai was in relation to Denisov seven years ago. Ilyin tried to imitate Rostov in everything and, like a woman, was in love with him.
An officer with a double mustache, Zdrzhinsky, spoke pompously about how the Saltanov Dam was the Thermopylae of the Russians, how on this dam General Raevsky committed an act worthy of antiquity. Zdrzhinsky told the story of Raevsky, who led his two sons to the dam under terrible fire and went on the attack next to them. Rostov listened to the story and not only did not say anything to confirm Zdrzhinsky’s delight, but, on the contrary, had the appearance of a man who was ashamed of what was being told to him, although he did not intend to object. Rostov, after the Austerlitz and 1807 campaigns, knew from his own experience that when telling military incidents, people always lie, just as he himself lied when telling them; secondly, he was so experienced that he knew how everything happens in war, not at all the way we can imagine and tell. And therefore he did not like Zdrzhinsky’s story, and he did not like Zdrzhinsky himself, who, with his mustache from his cheeks, according to his habit, bent low over the face of the one to whom he was telling, and crowded him into a cramped hut. Rostov looked at him silently. “Firstly, at the dam that was attacked, there must have been such confusion and crowding that even if Raevsky brought his sons out, it could not have affected anyone except about ten people who were near him, - thought Rostov, - the rest could not see how and with whom Raevsky walked along the dam. But even those who saw this could not be very inspired, because what did they care about Raevsky’s tender parental feelings when it was about their own skin? Then, the fate of the fatherland did not depend on whether the Saltanov Dam was taken or not, as they describe it to us about Thermopylae. And therefore, why was it necessary to make such a sacrifice? And then, why bother your children here, during the war? Not only would I not take Petya with my brother, I would not even take Ilyin, even this stranger to me, but a good boy, I would try to put him somewhere under protection,” Rostov continued to think, listening to Zdrzhinsky. But he did not say his thoughts: he already had experience in this. He knew that this story contributed to the glorification of our weapons, and therefore he had to pretend that he did not doubt him. That's what he did.
“However, there is no urine,” said Ilyin, who noticed that Rostov did not like Zdrzhinsky’s conversation. - And the stockings, and the shirt, and it leaked under me. I'll go look for shelter. The rain seems to be lighter. – Ilyin came out, and Zdrzhinsky left.
Five minutes later, Ilyin, splashing through the mud, ran to the hut.
- Hooray! Rostov, let's go quickly. Found it! There’s a tavern about two hundred paces away, and our guys got there. At least we’ll dry off, and Marya Genrikhovna will be there.
Marya Genrikhovna was the wife of the regimental doctor, a young, pretty German woman, whom the doctor married in Poland. The doctor, either because he did not have the means, or because he did not want to be separated from his young wife at first during his marriage, took her everywhere with him in the hussar regiment, and the doctor’s jealousy became an ordinary object jokes between hussar officers.
Rostov threw on his raincoat, called Lavrushka with his things behind him and went with Ilyin, sometimes rolling in the mud, sometimes splashing in the subsiding rain, in the darkness of the evening, occasionally broken by distant lightning.
- Rostov, where are you?
- Here. What lightning! - they were talking.

In the abandoned tavern, in front of which stood the doctor’s tent, there were already about five officers. Marya Genrikhovna, a plump, fair-haired German woman in a blouse and nightcap, was sitting in the front corner on a wide bench. Her husband, a doctor, was sleeping behind her. Rostov and Ilyin, greeted with cheerful exclamations and laughter, entered the room.
- AND! “What fun you are having,” Rostov said, laughing.
- Why are you yawning?
- Good! That's how it flows from them! Don't wet our living room.
“You can’t dirty Marya Genrikhovna’s dress,” answered the voices.
Rostov and Ilyin hurried to find a corner where they could change their wet dress without disturbing Marya Genrikhovna’s modesty. They went behind the partition to change clothes; but in a small closet, filling it completely, with one candle on an empty box, three officers were sitting, playing cards, and did not want to give up their place for anything. Marya Genrikhovna gave up her skirt for a while to use it instead of a curtain, and behind this curtain Rostov and Ilyin, with the help of Lavrushka, who brought packs, took off the wet dress and put on a dry dress.
A fire was lit in the broken stove. They took out a board and, having supported it on two saddles, covered it with a blanket, took out a samovar, a cellar and half a bottle of rum, and, asking Marya Genrikhovna to be the hostess, everyone crowded around her. Some offered her a clean handkerchief to wipe her lovely hands, some put a Hungarian coat under her feet so that it wouldn’t be damp, some curtained the window with a cloak so that it wouldn’t blow, some brushed the flies off her husband’s face so he wouldn’t wake up.
“Leave him alone,” said Marya Genrikhovna, smiling timidly and happily, “he’s already sleeping well after a sleepless night.”
“You can’t, Marya Genrikhovna,” the officer answered, “you have to serve the doctor.” That’s it, maybe he’ll feel sorry for me when he starts cutting my leg or arm.
There were only three glasses; the water was so dirty that it was impossible to decide whether the tea was strong or weak, and in the samovar there was only enough water for six glasses, but it was all the more pleasant, in turn and by seniority, to receive your glass from Marya Genrikhovna’s plump hands with short, not entirely clean, nails . All the officers seemed to really be in love with Marya Genrikhovna that evening. Even those officers who were playing cards behind the partition soon abandoned the game and moved on to the samovar, obeying the general mood of courting Marya Genrikhovna. Marya Genrikhovna, seeing herself surrounded by such brilliant and courteous youth, beamed with happiness, no matter how hard she tried to hide it and no matter how obviously shy she was at every sleepy movement of her husband, who was sleeping behind her.
There was only one spoon, there was most of the sugar, but there was no time to stir it, and therefore it was decided that she would stir the sugar for everyone in turn. Rostov, having received his glass and poured rum into it, asked Marya Genrikhovna to stir it.
- But you don’t have sugar? - she said, all smiling, as if everything that she said, and everything that others said, was very funny and had another meaning.
- Yes, I don’t need sugar, I just want you to stir it with your pen.
Marya Genrikhovna agreed and began to look for a spoon, which someone had already grabbed.
“You finger, Marya Genrikhovna,” said Rostov, “it will be even more pleasant.”
- It's hot! - said Marya Genrikhovna, blushing with pleasure.
Ilyin took a bucket of water and, dripping some rum into it, came to Marya Genrikhovna, asking him to stir it with his finger.
“This is my cup,” he said. - Just put your finger in, I’ll drink it all.
When the samovar had been drunk, Rostov took the cards and offered to play kings with Marya Genrikhovna. They cast lots to decide who would be Marya Genrikhovna's party. The rules of the game, according to Rostov’s proposal, were that the one who would be king would have the right to kiss Marya Genrikhovna’s hand, and that the one who would remain a scoundrel would go and put a new samovar for the doctor when he woke up.
- Well, what if Marya Genrikhovna becomes king? – Ilyin asked.
- She’s already a queen! And her orders are law.
The game had just begun when the doctor’s confused head suddenly rose from behind Marya Genrikhovna. He had not slept for a long time and listened to what was said, and, apparently, did not find anything cheerful, funny or amusing in everything that was said and done. His face was sad and despondent. He did not greet the officers, scratched himself and asked permission to leave, as his way was blocked. As soon as he came out, all the officers burst into loud laughter, and Marya Genrikhovna blushed to tears and thereby became even more attractive in the eyes of all the officers. Returning from the yard, the doctor told his wife (who had stopped smiling so happily and was looking at him, fearfully awaiting the verdict) that the rain had passed and that she had to go spend the night in the tent, otherwise everything would be stolen.
- Yes, I’ll send a messenger... two! - said Rostov. - Come on, doctor.
– I’ll watch the clock myself! - said Ilyin.
“No, gentlemen, you slept well, but I didn’t sleep for two nights,” said the doctor and gloomily sat down next to his wife, waiting for the end of the game.
Looking at the gloomy face of the doctor, looking askance at his wife, the officers became even more cheerful, and many could not help laughing, for which they hastily tried to find plausible excuses. When the doctor left, taking his wife away, and settled into the tent with her, the officers lay down in the tavern, covered with wet overcoats; but they didn’t sleep for a long time, either talking, remembering the doctor’s fright and the doctor’s amusement, or running out onto the porch and reporting what was happening in the tent. Several times Rostov, turning over his head, wanted to fall asleep; but again someone’s remark entertained him, again a conversation began, and again causeless, cheerful, childish laughter was heard.

At three o'clock no one had yet fallen asleep when the sergeant appeared with the order to march to the town of Ostrovne.
With the same chatter and laughter, the officers hastily began to get ready; again they put the samovar on dirty water. But Rostov, without waiting for tea, went to the squadron. It was already dawn; the rain stopped, the clouds dispersed. It was damp and cold, especially in a wet dress. Coming out of the tavern, Rostov and Ilyin, both in the twilight of dawn, looked into the doctor’s leather tent, shiny from the rain, from under the apron of which the doctor’s legs stuck out and in the middle of which the doctor’s cap was visible on the pillow and sleepy breathing could be heard.
- Really, she’s very nice! - Rostov said to Ilyin, who was leaving with him.
- What a beauty this woman is! – Ilyin answered with sixteen-year-old seriousness.
Half an hour later the lined up squadron stood on the road. The command was heard: “Sit down! – the soldiers crossed themselves and began to sit down. Rostov, riding forward, commanded: “March! - and, stretching out in four people, the hussars, sounding the slap of hooves on the wet road, the clanking of sabers and quiet talking, set off along the large road lined with birches, following the infantry and battery walking ahead.
Torn blue-purple clouds, turning red at sunrise, were quickly driven by the wind. It became lighter and lighter. The curly grass that always grows along country roads was clearly visible, still wet from yesterday’s rain; The hanging branches of the birches, also wet, swayed in the wind and dropped light drops to their sides. The faces of the soldiers became clearer and clearer. Rostov rode with Ilyin, who did not lag behind him, on the side of the road, between a double row of birch trees.