I fell on the small table, where he was drinking his afternoon tea..
- I'm sorry ... I didn't notice you ... I countered with a slightly shy tone.
- Madam... is it possible for me and my table to go so unnoticed?... I heard his raspy voice... and I saw two sparkling eyes looking at me - rather scrutinizingly - under his round glasses.
- But...I didn't see you...really,...I told him again, taking courage from the mild to smiling expression that had taken on his face...
– It doesn't matter…now that I look at you better, I see that you are from somewhere else…from far…elsewhere…but..let me introduce myself..: Chekhov … Anton Pavlovich Chekhov!
Now I had completely lost it….I couldn't believe my eyes…or my ears….such an unlikely encounter…nor my wildest dreams….
Getting over the slight shock from my surprise…I told him with obvious excitement…
-Good evening, Mr. Chekhov……how glad I am to have had the good fortune to stumble upon such a cultured man as you….
-Do you consider me cultured? he almost whispered…
-You are not; I answered him completely smiling and perhaps imperceptibly playfully...
– Let me give you the picture, the profile, if you want, of
- according to me, cultured people ... and then ... tell me ...
- I'm all ears, I told him with all my sincerity....
and he began to explain…..
My dear…. cultured are the people who respect human individuality and that is why they are always condescending, smiling, kind, obliging.
They don't spoil the world for the hammer or the lost tire. They do not resent the noises or the cold. They accept with kindness the fields and the presence of foreign people in their home. They do not only pity the inferior, the weak and cats. Their souls also ache for what cannot be seen with the naked eye.
They are mean and fear lies like fire. They don't lie even about trivial things. A lie offends those who hear it and humiliates in their eyes those who tell it.
They are not talkative and do not force the other to listen to their confidations when they are not asked. They do not humble themselves to embroider the compassion of the neighbor. They do not play with the sensitive strings of the souls of others to win sighs and caresses in return.
They don't say "no one understands me", nor "I was sold for five cents", because this shows that they are looking for cheap impressions. They are vile tarps, faded, false. They are not vain. They are not concerned with such false diamonds as acquaintances with dignitaries.
When they do work that is not worth a kopeck, they do not return with a briefcase of a hundred rubles and boast that they let them in where they do not allow others.
If they have talent, they respect it. They sacrifice their peace, women, wine, worldly vanity for this. They are proud of their value and conscious of their mission. They are disgusted by ugliness and cultivate beauty within themselves.
They tame as much as they can and refine the love instinct. They don't take down vodka wherever they are. They drink only when they are free and given the opportunity. Because they need "a strong mind in a strong body...
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
I was left looking at him…ecstatic….impressed…
silent…..couldn't articulate a word…just looking at him…-
-Well…I leave you to ponder, if I belong to the cultured…he said with a smile…drinking your tea in peace…I am, will you allow me to return to my patients….nice to meet you….
I gave him my warmest smile!!!
- Good night, wonderful Mr. Chekhov...
Photo 10 pictures of young Chekhov, ranked by hotness. ‹ Literary Hub
