Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol

"Overcoat"

The story that happened to Akaky Akakievich Bashmachkin begins with a story about his birth and his bizarre name and proceeds to a story about his service as a titular adviser.

Many young officials, chuckling, fix him up, shower him with papers, push him under the arm, and only when he is completely unbearable, he says: “Leave me, why are you offending me?” in a pitiful voice. Akaky Akakiyevich, whose job it is to rewrite papers, does it with love and, even coming out of his presence and having hastily sipped his own, takes out a jar of ink and copies the papers brought home, and if there are none, he purposely makes a copy for himself from some document with an intricate address. Entertainment, the pleasures of friendship do not exist for him, "having written to his heart's content, he went to bed," with a smile anticipating tomorrow's rewriting.

However, this regularity of life is violated by an unforeseen incident. One morning, after repeated suggestions made by the Petersburg frost, Akaky Akakievich, having studied his greatcoat (so lost in appearance that the department had long called it a bonnet), notices that it is completely transparent on the shoulders and back. He decides to carry her to the tailor Petrovich, whose habits and biography are briefly, but not without detail, outlined. Petrovich examines the hood and declares that nothing can be fixed, but he will have to make a new overcoat. Shocked by the price Petrovich named, Akaki Akakievich decides that he has chosen the wrong time, and comes when, according to calculations, Petrovich is hungover, and therefore more accommodating. But Petrovich stands his ground. Seeing that one cannot do without a new overcoat, Akaki Akakievich is looking for how to get those eighty rubles, for which, in his opinion, Petrovich will get down to business. He decides to reduce the “ordinary costs”: not to drink tea in the evenings, not to light candles, to walk on tiptoe so as not to wear out the soles prematurely, to give the laundress less often, and in order not to wear out, stay at home in one dressing gown.

His life changes completely: the dream of an overcoat accompanies him, like a pleasant friend of life. Every month he visits Petrovich to talk about the overcoat. The expected reward for the holiday, against expectations, turns out to be twenty rubles more, and one day Akaky Akakievich and Petrovich go to the shops. And the cloth, and the calico on the lining, and the cat on the collar, and the work of Petrovich - everything turns out to be beyond praise, and, in view of the onset of frost, Akaki Akakievich one day goes to the department in a new overcoat. This event does not go unnoticed, everyone praises the overcoat and demands from Akaky Akakievich to set the evening on such an occasion, and only the intervention of a certain official (as if on purpose a birthday man), who called everyone for tea, saves the embarrassed Akaki Akakievich.

After a day that was like a great solemn holiday for him, Akaky Akakiyevich returns home, has a merry dinner and, after having a sybaritic idleness, goes to the official in a distant part of the city. Again everyone praises his overcoat, but soon they turn to whist, dinner, champagne. Forced to do the same, Akaky Akakievich feels unusual fun, but, mindful of the late hour, slowly goes home. Excited at first, he even rushes after some lady (“whose every part of her body was full of unusual movement”), but the deserted streets that soon stretch out inspire him with involuntary fear. In the middle of a huge deserted square, some people with mustaches stop him and take off his overcoat.

The misadventures of Akaky Akakievich begin. He does not find help from a private bailiff. In the presence, where he comes a day later in his old hood, they pity him and even think of making a purse, but, having collected a mere trifle, they give advice to go to a significant person, which can contribute more successful search overcoats. The following describes the methods and customs of a significant person who has become significant only recently, and therefore preoccupied with how to give himself greater significance: “Strictness, severity and - severity,” he usually used to say. Wanting to impress his friend, whom he had not seen for many years, he cruelly scolds Akaky Akakievich, who, in his opinion, addressed him out of form. Not feeling his legs, he gets to the house and falls down with a strong fever. A few days of unconsciousness and delirium - and Akaky Akakievich dies, which is only found out in the department on the fourth day after the funeral. Soon it becomes known that at night near the Kalinkin bridge a dead man appears, ripping off everyone's overcoat, without disassembling the rank and rank. Someone recognizes Akaki Akakievich in him. The efforts made by the police to catch the dead man are in vain.

At that time, one significant person, who is not alien to compassion, having learned that Bashmachkin died suddenly, remains terribly shocked by this and, in order to have some fun, goes to a friendly party, from where he goes not home, but to the familiar lady Karolina Ivanovna, and, in the midst of terrible weather, he suddenly feels that someone has grabbed him by the collar. In horror, he recognizes Akaky Akakievich, who triumphantly pulls off his overcoat. Pale and frightened, a significant person returns home and no longer scolds his subordinates with severity. The appearance of the dead official has since completely ceased, and the ghost that met a little later the Kolomna guard was already much taller and wore an enormous mustache.

The story of Akaky Akakievich Bashmachkin begins with his birth, and then turns into a retelling of his service zeal as a titular adviser.

In the service of a conscientious and harmless official, young colleagues are annoyed with jokes and practical jokes, to which Akaki Akakievich only begs him not to disturb him. The quiet woman does her work diligently and often takes her home. After a quick bite, he starts rewriting papers, and if there is no such work, then he rewrites for himself. To such an extent he was diligent and loved his work. He did not recognize any entertainment and, having worked out, he gave himself up to sleep.

But the incident disrupted his usual way of life. One frosty morning, Akaki Akakievich, having examined his overcoat, which no longer warms at all and which in the department was called a hood because of wear, he comes to the decision to have it repaired by a tailor. Petrovich issues a verdict: the overcoat cannot be repaired. Akaki Akakievich, having learned about the cost of a new overcoat, tries to talk to the tailor at a better time in order to reduce the price, but he is adamant. Resigned to the fact that a new overcoat is needed, Akaky Akakievich begins an economical life, reducing all expenses to a minimum, in the hope of saving eighty rubles.

Now the official has a goal in life: to save up for a new overcoat. He often visits Petrovich just to talk about the overcoat. He receives a holiday reward and, together with Petrovich, go to buy the necessary materials for sewing new clothes. Akaky Akakievich in a new overcoat goes to work, where everyone notices a new thing and praises, offering to celebrate the event.

After work, having lunch at good mood, goes to the official on the outskirts of the city. The praise of the overcoat is repeated, then the game of cards, fun. At a late hour, Akaky Akakievich goes home. Along the way, he even ran after some lady, but lagged behind on a deserted street. Some people stop him and take off his brand new overcoat.

The bailiff was unable to help. At the service, where he appeared in an old hood, everyone sympathizes, they offer to chip in for another overcoat. But money is not enough. On their advice, Akaky Akakievich visits an important official. Wanting to create special importance with an old friend whom he had not seen for a long time, he severely scolds Bashmachkin because of inappropriate treatment. He barely reaches home in fear, and dies a few days later from a fever. The department learns of his death only a few days after the funeral. And at night, near the Kalinkin bridge, they see a dead man ripping off his overcoats from passers-by. Some recognize Akaki Akakievich in him, but the police cannot catch him.

And that important official, having received a shock from the news of the death of Bashmachkin, goes to have fun with a familiar lady Karolina Ivanovna. Suddenly, someone grabs him by the collar of his greatcoat and pulls him off. He sees Akaky Akakievich. After this incident, an important official no longer scolds anyone strictly. And the dead official has since ceased to appear. True, the Kolomna watchman after this incident nevertheless saw someone, but huge and with a big mustache.

Compositions

"The Overcoat" is one of Gogol's Petersburg stories. Although many consider the Overcoat to be a story due to its small volume, in fact it is a story. Be careful not to make mistakes in the definition.

We offer you summary story Overcoat. The summary describes all the key points of the story, so you won't miss anything important. Also, for your understanding, the summary of the story The Overcoat is diluted with pictures so that you can clearly imagine the events taking place.

OVERCOAT - summary.

An unremarkable official served in one department Akaky Akakievich Bashmachkin . He was small in stature, somewhat pockmarked, reddish, with a small bald spot on his forehead and a "hemorrhoidal" complexion. He was in the rank of eternal titular adviser.

The name Akaki was given to him by the deceased mother, who did not like calendar names such as Trifiliy, Dula and Varakhasiy. She decided that they should name the child after the name of his father.

Having entered the department, Akaky Akakievich completely got used to the situation. No matter how many directors or employees changed, he could always be seen in the same position, by the same official for writing. Many even believed that he was born in a uniform and with a bald head.

At work, Bashmachkin was not respected. Even the watchmen perceived his presence as the presence of a flying fly.

The authorities treated him coldly and despotically. Colleagues mocked him, ridiculed his reliability, and even poured torn pieces of paper on his head. However, Akaky Akakievich did not react in any way to these insults, unmistakably rewriting documents. Only in the most extreme cases did the official ask colleagues why they offended him. Moreover, it was said in such a tone that once it even turned everything inside one young man who entered the service, made him look differently at everything that was happening, pushed him away from his comrades, who at first glance seemed like decent secular people.

Akaki Akakievich performed his work zealously, even with love. Seeing such zeal, one kind boss ordered to reward him, to give him a more important task. However, Akaky Akakievich even began to sweat from the exertion and asked that they give him something simply to copy. From that moment on, Bashmachkin was left alone.

Rewriting was the meaning of his life. The official did not pay attention to his appearance, and gradually his uniform became a reddish floury color, something constantly stuck to it. Akaky Akakievich did not notice at all the life raging around him. Everything for him came down to neatly written lines.

In the evenings, Akaky Akakievich hurriedly ate his supper, sometimes not noticing the flies in the dish, and again sat down to copy. When there was no work, he copied something just for himself, as a keepsake. This man was a stranger to any kind of entertainment. He received a meager salary, but somehow he had enough, and he was happy about it.

So Akaky Akakievich would have lived to old age, if not for the frost in St. Petersburg. Suddenly, the official began to notice that it was painful for his back and shoulder. When he examined his overcoat, he noticed that it was in these places that the matter was worn out, and the lining was completely unraveled. The official decided to take his overcoat to a friend

a tailor who had more than once put patches on Akaky Akakiyevich's impoverished wardrobe. The tailor examined the overcoat and categorically stated that nothing could be done - a new one had to be sewn. The tailor threw Akaky Akakievich into complete confusion. No matter how the official persuaded, the tailor did not want to remake the old overcoat.

Akaky Akakievich thought, because a tailor could sew an overcoat for as much as eighty rubles, Bashmachkin had half of this amount, accumulated over several years. Where to get the missing money? The official decided to save on everything: refuse dinner, wash linen less often (and for this at home go only in a dressing gown), work only with the master's candle. Fortunately, instead of the expected bonus of forty-five rubles, he was given as much as sixty, which helped speed up the case. The overcoat became the goal of the official, which was reflected even in his appearance: he became more alive, even a light lit up in his eyes. Every month, Akaki Akakievich went to the tailor to talk about the upcoming new thing.

Finally, after a few months, the required amount was collected. On the very first day they bought cloth, calico for the lining, a cat for the collar, and two weeks later Akaky Akakievich tried on a new overcoat, which fit perfectly. Akaky Akakievich went to the department in excellent spirits.

Colleagues in the service learned about the overcoat and ran to congratulate Akaky Akakievich on the renovation, saying that this must be noted. The official was even embarrassed. He was completely bewildered. Finally, the assistant clerk said that he himself would give the evening instead of Akaky Akakievich, and at the same time would celebrate his name day.

The official began to refuse, but he was persuaded, and he wanted to once again walk in a new overcoat. At the party, Bashmachkin soon became bored, but the hosts did not let him go until he had drunk a couple of glasses of champagne. The official returned home at midnight. In one of the dark alleys he was met by two robbers with mustaches and took away his overcoat.

Akaky Akakievich was beside himself with grief. When the thieves disappeared, he rushed screaming to the watchman, who sent him to the warden. The hostess, seeing the plight of the tenant, said that it was best to go to a private investigator - the quarter would cheat. The private more questioned the official, what time and in what condition he returned home, than led him into complete confusion. One of the colleagues advised the official to turn to a significant person.

Akaky Akakievich went to the general himself, who was famous among his subordinates for his impregnable severity. The official waited a long time and was accepted. He explained to the general that he had been robbed and had come for help. He asked the general to contact the police chief and find the overcoat. The important person felt offended. The general pointed out to Bashmachkin that he had to first submit a request to the office. When the visitor, gathering his courage, declared that the secretaries were unreliable people, the significant person was completely angry. The watchman was carried out of the official's office almost unconscious. He soon fell ill with a fever and died suddenly.

Rumors swept through St. Petersburg that a dead man roams at night near the Kalinkin Bridge, who rips off the overcoats from passers-by. Once a significant person, wanting to have fun, went to his friend Karolina Ivanovna. The general was sitting in the sleigh and recalling a pleasantly spent evening when someone grabbed him tightly by the collar of his overcoat. Turning around, the important person saw with horror that Akaky Akakiyevich was holding him. The seated man quickly threw off his overcoat and ordered the coachman to gallop home at full speed. Since then, the ghost no longer offended the late passers-by, and the significant person became more noticeably kinder to his subordinates.

In the department... but it's better not to say which department. There is nothing more angry than all kinds of departments, regiments, offices and, in a word, all kinds of official classes. Now every private person considers the whole society insulted in his face. They say that very recently a request was received from a police captain, I don’t remember any city, in which he clearly states that state decrees are perishing and that his sacred name is pronounced in vain. And as proof, he attached to the request an enormous volume of some kind of romantic essay, where every ten pages the police captain appears, in places even completely drunk. So, in order to avoid any trouble, it is better to call the department in question one department. So in one department served one official; the official cannot be said to be very remarkable, short in stature, somewhat pockmarked, somewhat reddish, even somewhat blind-sighted, with a slight bald spot on his forehead, with wrinkles on both sides of his cheeks and a complexion that is called hemorrhoidal ... What to do! Petersburg climate is to blame. As for the rank (for we first of all need to announce the rank), he was what is called the eternal titular adviser, over whom, as you know, various writers taunted and sharpened plenty, having a laudable habit of leaning on those who cannot bite . The surname of the official was Bashmachkin. Already by the very name it is clear that it once descended from a shoe; but when, at what time, and how it originated from the shoe, none of this is known. And father, and grandfather, and even brother-in-law and all completely Bashmachkins walked in boots, changing soles only three times a year. His name was Akaky Akakievich. It may seem to the reader a little strange and sought after, but one can be assured that no one was looking for it, and that such circumstances happened of themselves that it was impossible to give another name, and this happened exactly like this. Akaky Akakievich was born against the night, if only memory serves, on March 23rd. The deceased mother, an official and very good woman, settled down, as it should, christen the child. Mother was still lying on the bed opposite the door, but right hand there was a godfather, a most excellent person, Ivan Ivanovich Eroshkin, who served as a head clerk in the Senate, and a godfather, the wife of a district officer, a woman of rare virtues, Arina Semenovna Belobryubykova. The mother was given a choice of any of the three that she wants to choose: Mokkiya, Session, or name the child in the name of the martyr Khozdazat. “No,” the deceased thought, “the names are all like that.” To please her, they unfolded the calendar elsewhere; three names came out again: Trifilius, Dula and Varakhasy. “This is the punishment,” the old woman said, “what are all the names; Indeed, I have never heard of such a thing. Let it be Varadat or Varukh, otherwise Trifiliy and Varakhasiy. They also turned the page and came out: Pavsikahy and Vakhtisy. “Well, I can see,” said the old woman, “that, apparently, such is his fate. If so, let it be better to call him like his father. The father was Akaki, so let the son be Akaki. Thus, Akaky Akakievich happened. The child was christened, and he began to cry and made such a grimace, as if he had a presentiment that there would be a titular adviser. So here's how it all happened. We have cited this so that the reader can see for himself that it happened completely out of necessity and it was impossible to give another name. When and at what time he entered the department and who appointed him, no one could remember. No matter how many directors and all sorts of bosses changed, they always saw him in the same place, in the same position, in the same position, the same official for writing, so that later they were sure that he, apparently, was born that way. already completely ready, in a uniform and with a bald spot on his head. There was no respect for him in the department. The watchmen not only did not get up when he passed, but did not even look at him, as if a simple fly had flown through the waiting room. The bosses acted with him somehow coldly and despotically. Some assistant to the clerk directly shoved papers under his nose, without even saying: "copy", or: "here is an interesting, pretty business," or something pleasant, as is used in well-mannered services. And he took it, looking only at the paper, without looking who gave it to him and whether he had the right to do so. He took it and immediately settled down to write it. The young officials laughed at him and made fun of him, as far as clerical wit was enough, and immediately told him various stories compiled about him; about his mistress, a seventy-year-old woman, they said that she beat him, asked when their wedding would be, they poured pieces of paper on his head, calling it snow. But Akaky Akakievich did not answer a single word to this, as if there was no one in front of him; this did not even have an effect on his studies: among all these troubles, he did not make a single mistake in writing. Only if the joke was too unbearable, when they pushed him by the arm, preventing him from doing his job, he said: “Leave me, why are you offending me?” And there was something strange in the words and in the voice with which they were uttered. There was something so pitiful in him that one young man, who had recently made up his mind, who, following the example of others, had allowed himself to laugh at him, suddenly stopped, as if pierced, and since then everything seemed to have changed in front of him and seemed in a different way. Some unnatural force pushed him away from the comrades he met, mistaking them for decent, secular people. And for a long time afterwards, in the midst of the most merry moments, he would imagine a short official with a bald spot on his forehead, with his penetrating words: “Leave me, why do you offend me?” - and in these penetrating words other words rang: "I am your brother." And the poor young man covered himself with his hand, and many times later he shuddered in his lifetime, seeing how much inhumanity is in a person, how much ferocious rudeness is hidden in refined, educated secularism, and, God! even in that person whom the world recognizes as noble and honest ...

It is unlikely that one could find a person who would live like this in his position. It is not enough to say that he served zealously; no, he served with love. There, in this rewriting, he saw his own diverse and pleasant world. Pleasure was expressed on his face; some letters he had favorites, which, if he got to, he was not himself: he laughed, and winked, and helped with his lips, so that in his face, it seemed, one could read every letter that his pen drew. If rewards had been given to him in proportion to his zeal, he, to his amazement, might even have ended up as a state councillor; but he served, as the wits, his comrades, put it, a buckle in his buttonhole and acquired hemorrhoids in the small of his back. However, it cannot be said that there was no attention to him. One director, being a kind person and wanting to reward him for his long service, ordered to give him something more important than ordinary copying; it was from the already finished case that he was ordered to make some kind of relation to another public place; the only thing was to change the title title and here and there to change the verbs from the first person to the third. This gave him such a job that he sweated completely, rubbed his forehead and finally said: "No, better let me rewrite something." It has since been left to rewrite forever. Outside of this rewriting, nothing seemed to exist for him. He did not think at all about his dress: his uniform was not green, but some kind of reddish flour color. His collar was narrow, low, so that his neck, despite the fact that it was not long, coming out of the collar, seemed unusually long, like those of those plaster kittens, dangling their heads, which are worn on their heads by dozens of Russian foreigners. And something always stuck to his uniform: either a piece of senza, or some thread; besides, he had a special art, walking down the street, to keep up under the window at the very time when all sorts of rubbish was thrown out of it, and therefore he always carried watermelon and melon peels and such nonsense on his hat. Not once in his life did he pay attention to what is done and happens every day in the street, which, as you know, his own brother, a young official, will always look at, extending his perceptive glance to such an extent that he will even notice who on the other side of the pavement, a stirrup has torn off at the bottom of his trousers - which always causes a sly smile on his face.

Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol

In the department ... but it's better not to say in which department. There is nothing more angry than all kinds of departments, regiments, offices and, in a word, all kinds of official classes. Now every private person considers the whole society insulted in his face. They say that very recently a request was received from a police captain, I don’t remember any city, in which he clearly states that state decrees are perishing and that his sacred name is pronounced in vain. And as proof, he attached to the request an enormous volume of some kind of romantic essay, where every ten pages the police captain appears, in places even completely drunk. So, in order to avoid any trouble, it is better to call the department in question one department. So in one department served one official ; the official cannot be said to be very remarkable, short in stature, somewhat pockmarked, somewhat reddish, even somewhat blind-sighted, with a slight bald spot on his forehead, with wrinkles on both sides of his cheeks and a complexion that is called hemorrhoidal ... What to do! Petersburg climate is to blame. As for the rank (for we first of all need to announce the rank), he was what is called the eternal titular adviser, over whom, as you know, various writers taunted and sharpened plenty, having a laudable habit of leaning on those who cannot bite . The surname of the official was Bashmachkin. Already by the very name it is clear that it once descended from a shoe; but when, at what time, and how it originated from the shoe, none of this is known. And father, and grandfather, and even brother-in-law, and all the Bashmachkins completely walked in boots, changing soles only three times a year. His name was Akaky Akakievich. It may seem to the reader a little strange and sought after, but one can be assured that no one was looking for it, and that such circumstances happened of themselves that it was impossible to give another name, and this happened exactly like this. Akaky Akakievich was born against the night, if only memory serves, on March 23rd. The deceased mother, an official and a very good woman, settled down, as it should, to christen the child. Matushka was still lying on the bed opposite the door, and on the right hand stood the godfather, the most excellent person, Ivan Ivanovich Eroshkin, who served as head clerk in the Senate, and the godfather, the wife of a district officer, a woman of rare virtues, Arina Semyonovna Belobryubyakova. The mother was given a choice of any of the three that she wants to choose: Mokkiya, Sossia, or name the child in the name of the martyr Khozdazat. "No," thought the dead woman, "names are all like that." To please her, they unfolded the calendar elsewhere; three names came out again: Trifilius, Dula and Varakhasy. “This is the punishment,” said the old woman: “what are all the names; Indeed, I have never heard of such a thing. Let it be Varadat or Varukh, otherwise Trifiliy and Varakhasiy. They also turned the page and came out: Pavsikahy and Vakhtisy. “Well, I can see,” said the old woman, “that, apparently, such is his fate. If so, let it be better to call him like his father. The father was Akaki, so let the son be Akaki. Thus, Akaky Akakievich happened. The child was christened, and he began to cry and made such a grimace, as if he had a presentiment that there would be a titular adviser. So here's how it all happened. We have cited this so that the reader can see for himself that it happened completely out of necessity and it was impossible to give another name. When and at what time he entered the department and who appointed him, no one could remember. No matter how many directors and all sorts of bosses changed, everyone saw him in the same place, in the same position, in the same position, the same official for writing, so that later they were convinced that he, apparently, was born that way. already completely ready, in a uniform and with a bald spot on his head. There was no respect for him in the department. The watchmen not only did not get up when he passed, but did not even look at him, as if a simple fly had flown through the waiting room. The bosses acted with him somehow coldly and despotically. Some assistant to the clerk directly shoved papers under his nose, without even saying "copy", or "here is an interesting, pretty business," or something pleasant, as is used in well-mannered services. And he took it, looking only at the paper, without looking who gave it to him and whether he had the right to do so. He took it and immediately settled down to write it. The young officials laughed at him and made fun of him, as far as clerical wit was enough, and immediately told him various stories compiled about him; about his mistress, a seventy-year-old woman, they said that she beat him, asked when their wedding would be, they poured pieces of paper on his head, calling it snow. But Akaky Akakievich did not answer a single word to this, as if there was no one in front of him; this did not even have an effect on his studies: among all these troubles, he did not make a single mistake in writing. Only if the joke was too unbearable, when they pushed him by the arm, preventing him from doing his job, he said: “Leave me, why are you offending me?” And there was something strange in the words and in the voice with which they were uttered. There was something so pitiful in him that one young man, who had recently made up his mind, who, following the example of others, allowed himself to laugh at him, suddenly stopped, as if pierced, and since then everything seemed to have changed in front of him and seemed in a different way. Some unnatural force pushed him away from the comrades he met, mistaking them for decent, secular people. And for a long time afterwards, in the midst of the most merry moments, he would imagine a short official with a bald spot on his forehead, with his penetrating words: “Leave me, why are you offending me? ”- and in these penetrating words, the Evenels have other words: “I am your brother.” And the poor young man covered himself with his hand, and later he shuddered many times in his lifetime, seeing how much inhumanity is in a person, how much ferocious rudeness is hidden in refined, educated secularism, and, God! even in that person whom the world recognizes as noble and honest ...

It is unlikely that one could find a person who would live like this in his position. It is not enough to say that he served zealously; no, he served with love. There, in this rewriting, he saw his own diverse and pleasant world. Pleasure was expressed on his face; some letters he had favorites, which, if he got to, he was not himself: he laughed, and winked, and helped with his lips, so that in his face, it seemed, one could read every letter that his pen drew. If rewards had been given to him in proportion to his zeal, he, to his amazement, might even have ended up as a state councillor; but he served, as the wits, his comrades, put it, a buckle in his buttonhole and acquired hemorrhoids in the small of his back. However, it cannot be said that there was no attention to him. One director, being a kind person and wanting to reward him for his long service, ordered to give him something more important than ordinary copying; it was from the already finished case that he was ordered to make some kind of relation to another public place; the only thing was to change the title title and here and there to change the verbs from the first person to the third. This gave him such a job that he sweated completely, rubbed his forehead and finally said: "No, better let me rewrite something." It has since been left to rewrite forever. Outside of this rewriting, nothing seemed to exist for him. He did not think at all about his dress: his uniform was not green, but some kind of reddish flour color. His collar was narrow, low, so that his neck, despite the fact that it was not long, coming out of the collar, seemed unusually long, like those of those plaster kittens, dangling their heads, which are worn on their heads by dozens of Russian foreigners. And something always stuck to his uniform: either a piece of senza, or some thread; besides, he had a special art, walking down the street, to keep up under the window at the very time when all sorts of rubbish was thrown out of it, and therefore he always carried watermelon and melon peels and such nonsense on his hat. Not once in his life did he pay attention to what is done and happens every day in the street, which, as you know, his own brother, a young official, will always look at, extending his perceptive glance to such an extent that he will even notice who on the other side of the pavement, a stirrup has torn off at the bottom of his trousers - which always causes a sly smile on his face.

Retelling plan

1. Characteristics of Akaky Akakievich.
2. Akaki Akakievich orders himself a new overcoat.
3. The robbers take off the overcoat from the poor official.
4. Akaki Akakievich is looking for the truth from a private bailiff, from a general.
5. An official dies of grief.
6. The ghost of an official scares passers-by.

retelling

One official served in one department: short, somewhat pockmarked, somewhat reddish, short-sighted ... He was what is called the eternal titular adviser. The surname of the official was Bashmachkin. His name was Akaky Akakievich. At the baptism, "he wept and made such a grimace, as if he had a presentiment that there would be a titular adviser." For many years he held one position - an official for writing. No one at work respected him, the young "laughed and made fun of him." Akaky Akakievich was an unrequited man. “Only if the joke was too unbearable, he said: “Leave me, why do you offend me?” “In these penetrating words, other words rang: “I am your brother.” Akaky Akakievich served "zealously ... with love", he even had his own favorite letters. He could do nothing but mechanically rewrite documents.

Akaky Akakievich lived in poverty: he dressed poorly, ate dinner “with flies and with everything that God sent ...”, did not allow himself any entertainment. “Having written to his heart's content, he went to bed, smiling in advance at the thought of tomorrow: will God send something to rewrite tomorrow?” He "knew how to be satisfied with his lot." Everything would be fine if it were not for the cold: his old overcoat, the subject of ridicule of his comrades, was worn out. “The cloth was so worn out that it was seething, and the lining was falling apart.” Akaky Akakiyevich took the overcoat to the tailor, but he refused to remake it: “it’s completely rotten” and advised him to sew a new one. For Akaky Akakiyevich, the amount of one and a half hundred rubles was unthinkable: “This is such a thing, I really didn’t think that it would come out like that ...” How much money to make an overcoat? “Petrovich will undertake to do it for eighty rubles; but where do you get them from? Bashmachkin used to set aside a penny from each ruble, for several years "more than forty rubles" had accumulated. He decided to save on everything: he learned not to light candles, to walk on tiptoe so as not to wear out his shoes, to starve in the evenings ... "but he ate spiritually, carrying in his thoughts the eternal idea of ​​​​a future overcoat." “From now on, it was as if his very existence had become fuller, as if he had married; somehow became more alive, even firmer in character, like a man who had already defined and set himself a goal. Finally the money was collected. Bashmachkin, together with the tailor, bought cloth, calico for lining (instead of silk) and a cat for collar (instead of marten). Two weeks later, the overcoat was ready, "just right." The tailor solemnly dressed Akaky Akakievich and even ran after him to once again admire his work.

"Akaky Akakievich walked in the most festive disposition of all feelings." In the department, all the colleagues came running to look at the new overcoat; they persuaded Akaky Akakievich to "splash" a new thing. One official invited everyone to his place. In the evening Akaky Akakievich went to see him in a new overcoat. He felt uncomfortable, bored and tried to quietly leave. On the way home, he was beaten and his overcoat was taken away. "Desperate, not tired of screaming, he set off to run across the square to the booth." But the watchman replied that he had not seen how Akaky Akakievich was robbed, and sent him to the warder. In the morning, on the advice of the landlady, he went to a private bailiff, hardly got an appointment, but realized that there was little hope of returning the overcoat. A colleague advised me to contact one significant person. Akaky Akakievich decided to go. The “ordinary conversation” of a significant person “with the lower ones resounded with severity and consisted of almost three phrases: “How dare you? Do you know who you are talking to? Do you understand who is standing in front of you? However, he was a kind person at heart, but the rank of general completely confused him. Seeing the humble appearance of Bashmachkin, his old uniform, the general shouted at the official, stamped his feet and put him out. Frightened Akaki Akakievich caught a cold on the way home, lay in a fever and soon died. Only a bunch of goose feathers, white government paper, three pairs of socks, two or three buttons torn off the pantaloons, and an old uniform were left of the inheritance. “And Petersburg was left without Akaky Akakievich, as if he had never been in it. A creature disappeared and disappeared, protected by no one, dear to no one, not interesting to anyone. The department realized it only on the fourth day. But who would have thought that Akaky Akakievich was destined to "live noisily for several days after his death, as if as a reward for a life not noticed by anyone." Rumors swept through St. Petersburg that at Kalinkin Bridge began to appear at night "... a dead man in the form of an official looking for some kind of stolen overcoat." Someone recognized Akaky Akakievich in the dead man. The dead official began to instill considerable fear in all timid people, pulling off his greatcoats at night.

After the visit of Akaky Akakiyevich, the general felt something like regret, sent to him and learned about his death. He was somewhat upset, but quickly dispelled at a friend's party. One day he was riding in a sleigh and suddenly felt that someone grabbed him by the collar. “Not without horror,” the general recognized Akaky Akakievich, who said: “I need your overcoat!” The terribly frightened general "he even quickly threw off his overcoat from his shoulders." “Since then, the appearance of the “dead official” has completely ceased: it is clear that the general’s overcoat fell completely on his shoulders.