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Vsevolod Garshin's tale of a toad and a rose. Vsevolod Garshin “The Tale of the Toad and the Rose Garshin the Toad and the Rose

"The Tale of the Toad and the Rose"

Once upon a time there lived a rose and a toad.

The rose bush on which the rose bloomed grew in a small semicircular flower garden in front of the village house. The flower garden was very neglected; weeds grew thickly over old flowerbeds that had grown into the ground and along paths that no one had cleaned or sprinkled with sand for a long time. A wooden lattice with pegs trimmed in the form of tetrahedral peaks, once painted with green oil paint, is now completely peeling, dried out and fell apart; The pikes were taken away by the village boys to play soldiers and by the men who approached the house to fight off the angry watchdog with a company of other dogs.

And the flower garden became no worse from this destruction. The remains of the lattice were woven with hops, dodder with large white flowers, and mouse peas hanging in whole pale green heaps, with lavender tassels of flowers scattered here and there. Thorny thistles on the oily and wet soil of a flower garden

(there was a large shady garden around it) reached such large sizes that they almost seemed like trees. The yellow mulleins raised their flower-lined arrows even higher than them. Nettles occupied an entire corner of the flower garden; it, of course, burned, but one could admire its dark greenery from afar, especially when this greenery served as a background for a delicate and luxurious pale rose flower.

It blossomed on a fine May morning; when she opened her petals, the flying away morning dew left a few clean, transparent tears on them. Rose was definitely crying. But everything around her was so good, so clean and clear on this beautiful morning, when for the first time she saw the blue sky and felt the fresh morning breeze and the rays of the shining sun, penetrating her thin petals with pink light; it was so peaceful and calm in the flower garden that if she could really cry, it would be not from grief, but from the happiness of living. She couldn't speak; she could only bow her head and spread a subtle and fresh smell around her, and this smell was her words, tears and prayer.

And below, between the roots of the bush, on the damp ground, as if stuck to it with its flat belly, sat a rather fat old toad, which had spent the whole night hunting for worms and midges and in the morning sat down to rest from its labors, choosing a shadier and damper place. She sat with her toad eyes covered with membranes and breathed barely noticeably, swelling her dirty gray warty and sticky sides and putting one ugly paw to the side: she was too lazy to move it to her belly.

She did not rejoice in the morning, or the sun, or good weather; She had already eaten and was getting ready to rest.

But when the breeze died down for a minute and the scent of the rose did not drift away, the toad felt it, and it caused her vague uneasiness; however, for a long time she was too lazy to look where this smell was coming from.

No one had gone to the flower garden where the rose grew and where the toad sat for a long time. Last year in the fall, on the very day when the toad, having found a good crevice under one of the foundation stones of the house, was going to climb there for winter hibernation, a little boy entered the flower garden for the last time, who spent the whole summer sitting in it every clear day under the window of the house. An adult girl, his sister, was sitting by the window; she was reading a book or sewing something and occasionally glanced at her brother. He was a small boy of about seven, with big eyes and a large head on a thin body. He loved his flower garden very much (it was his flower garden, because besides him, almost no one went to this abandoned place) and, having arrived there, he sat in the sun on an old wooden bench that stood on a dry sandy path that had survived near the at home, because people were walking around closing the shutters, and he began to read the book he had brought with him.

Vasya, do you want me to throw you a ball? - my sister asks from the window. - Maybe you can run with him?

No, Masha, I’d rather do it this way, with a book.

And he sat for a long time and read. And when he got tired of reading about Robinsons, and wild countries, and sea robbers, he left the open book and climbed into the thicket of the flower garden. Here he knew every bush and almost every stem.

He squatted down in front of a thick mullein stalk surrounded by shaggy whitish leaves, which was three times taller than him, and for a long time watched how the ant people ran up to their cows - grass aphids, how an ant delicately touched the thin tubes sticking out of the aphids on the back, and picks up clear droplets of sweet liquid that appear at the tips of the tubes. He watched as a dung beetle busily and diligently drags its ball somewhere, like a spider, spreading a cunning rainbow network, guards the flies, like a lizard, with its blunt muzzle open, sits in the sun, the green scutes of its back shining; and one time, in the evening, he saw a living hedgehog! Here he, too, could not restrain himself from joy and almost shouted and clapped his hands, but fearing to frighten the prickly animal, he held his breath and, with his happy eyes wide open, watched in delight as he, snorting, sniffed the roots of a rose bush with his pig snout, looking for worms between them, and comically fingered his plump paws, similar to those of a bear.

Vasya, dear, go home, it’s getting damp,” the sister said loudly.

And the hedgehog, frightened by the human voice, quickly pulled its prickly fur coat over its forehead and hind legs and turned into a ball. The boy quietly touched its thorns; the animal shrank even more and began to puff dully and hastily, like a small steam engine.

Then he got to know this hedgehog a little. He was such a weak, quiet and meek boy that even small animals seemed to understand this and soon got used to him. What a joy it was when the hedgehog tasted milk from a saucer brought by the owner of the flower garden!

This spring the boy could not go to his favorite corner. His sister was still sitting next to him, but no longer at the window, but at his bedside; she read the book, but not for herself, but out loud to him, because it was difficult for him to lift his emaciated head from the white pillows and difficult to hold even the smallest volume in his skinny hands, and his eyes soon got tired of reading. He will probably never go out to his favorite corner again.

Masha! - he suddenly whispers to his sister.

What, honey?

Is kindergarten good now? Have the roses bloomed?

The sister leans over, kisses his pale cheek and at the same time quietly wipes away a tear.

Okay, darling, very good. And the roses bloomed. We'll go there together on Monday. The doctor will let you out.

The boy does not answer and takes a deep breath. My sister starts reading again.

It will already be. I'm tired. I'd rather sleep.

The sister adjusted his pillows and white blanket, he turned to the wall with difficulty and fell silent. The sun shone through the window overlooking the flower garden and cast bright rays onto the bed and the small body lying on it, illuminating the pillows and blanket and gilding the child’s short-cropped hair and thin neck.

Rose knew none of this; she grew and showed off; the next day it was supposed to bloom in full bloom, and on the third it should begin to wither and crumble.

That's all pink life! But even in this short life she experienced a lot of fear and grief.

A toad noticed her.

When she saw the flower for the first time with her evil and ugly eyes, something strange stirred in the toad’s heart. She could not tear herself away from the delicate pink petals and kept looking and looking. She really liked the rose, she felt a desire to be closer to such a fragrant and beautiful creature. And to express her tender feelings, she couldn’t come up with anything better than these words:

Wait,” she wheezed, “I’ll eat you up!”

Rose shuddered. Why was it attached to its stem? Free birds, chirping around her, jumped and flew from branch to branch;

sometimes they were carried away somewhere far away, where the rose did not know. The butterflies were also free. How she envied them! If she had been like them, she would have fluttered up and flown away from the evil eyes that were pursuing her with their gaze. Rose did not know that toads sometimes lie in wait for butterflies.

I'll eat you up! - the toad repeated, trying to speak as gently as possible, which turned out even more terrible, and crawled closer to the rose.

I'll eat you up! - she repeated, still looking at the flower.

And the poor creature saw with horror how nasty sticky paws cling to the branches of the bush on which she grew. However, it was difficult for the toad to climb: its flat body could crawl and jump freely only on level ground. After each effort, she looked up, where the flower swayed, and the rose froze.

God! - she prayed, - if only I could die a different death!

And the toad kept climbing higher. But where the old trunks ended and the young branches began, she had to suffer a little. The dark green, smooth bark of the rose bush was covered with sharp and strong thorns. The toad broke its paws and belly on them and, bleeding, fell to the ground. She looked at the flower with hatred...

I said I'll eat you up! - she repeated.

Evening came; it was necessary to think about dinner, and the wounded toad trudged off to lie in wait for unwary insects. Anger didn't stop her from filling her belly, as always; her scratches were not very dangerous, and she decided, after resting, to again get to the flower that attracted her and hated her.

She rested for quite a long time. Morning came, midday passed, and the rose almost forgot about her enemy. She had already completely blossomed and was the most beautiful creature in the flower garden. There was no one to come to admire her: the little master lay motionless on his bed, the sister did not leave him and did not appear at the window. Only birds and butterflies scurried around the rose, and bees, buzzing, sometimes sat in its open corolla and flew out from there, completely shaggy from the yellow flower dust. A nightingale flew in, climbed into a rose bush and sang its song. How different it was from the wheezing of a toad! Rose listened to this song and was happy: it seemed to her that the nightingale was singing for her, and maybe it was true. She did not see how her enemy quietly climbed onto the branches. This time the toad no longer spared either its paws or its belly: blood covered it, but it bravely climbed upward - and suddenly, amid the ringing and gentle rumble of the nightingale, the rose heard a familiar wheezing:

I said I would eat it, and I will eat it!

The toad's eyes gazed at her from a nearby branch. The evil animal had only one movement left to grab the flower. Rose realized that she was dying...

The little master had been lying motionless on the bed for a long time. The sister, sitting at the head of the chair, thought that he was sleeping. She had an open book on her lap, but she wasn't reading it. Little by little her tired head bowed: the poor girl had not slept for several nights, never leaving her sick brother, and now dozed off slightly.

Masha,” he suddenly whispered.

The sister perked up. She dreamed that she was sitting by the window, that her little brother was playing, like last year, in the flower garden and calling her. Opening her eyes and seeing him in bed, thin and weak, she sighed heavily.

What's cute?

Masha, you told me that the roses have bloomed! Can I... have one?

You can, my dear, you can! - She went to the window and looked at the bush. There was one, but very lush rose growing there.

A rose has blossomed just for you, and what a lovely one! Should I put it here on the table in a glass? Yes?

Yes, on the table. I would like to.

The girl took the scissors and went out into the garden. She had not left the room for a long time;

the sun blinded her, and the fresh air made her slightly dizzy. She approached the bush at the very moment when the toad wanted to grab the flower.

Oh, what disgusting! - she screamed.

And grabbing a branch, she shook it violently: the toad fell to the ground and flopped on its belly. In a rage, she was about to jump at the girl, but could not jump higher than the hem of the dress and immediately flew far away, thrown back by the toe of her shoe. She did not dare try again and only from a distance saw the girl carefully cut the flower and carry it into the room.

When the boy saw his sister with a flower in her hand, for the first time after a long time he smiled faintly and with difficulty made a movement with his thin hand.

Give it to me,” he whispered. - I'll smell it.

The sister put the stem in his hand and helped him move it towards his face. He inhaled the delicate scent and, smiling happily, whispered:

Oh, how good...

Then his face became serious and motionless, and he fell silent...

forever.

The rose, although it was cut before it began to crumble, felt that it had not been cut for nothing. It was placed in a separate glass next to the small coffin. There were whole bouquets of other flowers, but, to tell the truth, no one paid attention to them, and when the young girl put the rose on the table, she raised it to her lips and kissed it. A small tear fell from her cheek onto the flower, and this was the best incident in the rose’s life. When it began to fade, they put it in a thick old book and dried it, and then, many years later, gave it to me.

That's why I know this whole story.

Vsevolod Garshin - The Tale of the Toad and the Rose, read the text

See also Garshin Vsevolod - Prose (stories, poems, novels...):

Meeting
The wide and trembling silver strip of the moon stretches for dozens of miles...

Batman and officer
- Undress! - the doctor said to Nikita, who stood motionless, fixing his eyes...

Garshin Vsevolod Mikhailovich

The Tale of the Toad and the Rose

Once upon a time there lived a rose and a toad. The rose bush on which the rose bloomed grew in a small semicircular flower garden in front of the village house. The flower garden was very neglected; weeds grew thickly over old flowerbeds that had grown into the ground and along paths that no one had cleaned or sprinkled with sand for a long time. A wooden lattice with pegs trimmed in the form of tetrahedral peaks, once painted with green oil paint, is now completely peeling, dried out and fell apart; The pikes were taken away by the village boys to play soldiers and by the men who approached the house to fight off the angry watchdog with a company of other dogs.

And the flower garden became no worse from this destruction. The remains of the lattice were woven with hops, dodder with large white flowers, and mouse peas hanging in whole pale green heaps, with lavender tassels of flowers scattered here and there. The thorny thistles on the oily and wet soil of the flower garden (there was a large shady garden around it) reached such large sizes that they almost seemed like trees. The yellow mulleins raised their flower-lined arrows even higher than them. Nettles occupied an entire corner of the flower garden; it, of course, burned, but one could admire its dark greenery from afar, especially when this greenery served as a background for a delicate and luxurious pale rose flower.

It blossomed on a fine May morning; when she opened her petals, the flying away morning dew left a few clean, transparent tears on them. Rose was definitely crying. But everything around her was so good, so clean and clear on this beautiful morning, when for the first time she saw the blue sky and felt the fresh morning breeze and the rays of the shining sun, penetrating her thin petals with pink light; it was so peaceful and calm in the flower garden that if she could really cry, it would be not from grief, but from the happiness of living. She couldn't speak; she could only bow her head and spread a subtle and fresh smell around her, and this smell was her words, tears and prayer.

And below, between the roots of the bush, on the damp ground, as if stuck to it with its flat belly, sat a rather fat old toad, which had spent the whole night hunting for worms and midges and in the morning sat down to rest from its labors, choosing a shadier and damper place. She sat with her toad eyes covered with membranes and breathed barely noticeably, swelling her dirty gray warty and sticky sides and putting one ugly paw to the side: she was too lazy to move it to her belly. She did not rejoice in the morning, or the sun, or good weather; She had already eaten and was getting ready to rest.

But when the breeze died down for a minute and the scent of the rose did not drift away, the toad felt it, and it caused her vague uneasiness; however, for a long time she was too lazy to look where this smell was coming from.

No one had gone to the flower garden where the rose grew and where the toad sat for a long time. Last year in the fall, on the very day when the toad, having found a good crevice under one of the foundation stones of the house, was going to climb there for winter hibernation, a little boy entered the flower garden for the last time, who spent the whole summer sitting in it every clear day under the window of the house. An adult girl, his sister, was sitting by the window; she was reading a book or sewing something and occasionally glanced at her brother. He was a small boy of about seven, with big eyes and a large head on a thin body. He loved his flower garden very much (it was his flower garden, because besides him, almost no one went to this abandoned place) and, having arrived there, he sat in the sun on an old wooden bench that stood on a dry sandy path that had survived near the at home, because people were walking around closing the shutters, and he began to read the book he had brought with him.

- Vasya, do you want me to throw you a ball? - my sister asks from the window. - Maybe you can run with him?

- No, Masha, I’d rather do it this way, with a book.

And he sat for a long time and read. And when he got tired of reading about Robinsons, and wild countries, and sea robbers, he left the open book and climbed into the thicket of the flower garden. Here he knew every bush and almost every stem. He squatted down in front of a thick mullein stalk surrounded by shaggy whitish leaves, which was three times taller than him, and for a long time watched how the ant people ran up to their cows - grass aphids, how an ant delicately touched the thin tubes sticking out of the aphids on the back, and picks up clear droplets of sweet liquid that appear at the tips of the tubes. He watched as a dung beetle busily and diligently drags its ball somewhere, like a spider, spreading a cunning rainbow network, guards the flies, like a lizard, with its blunt muzzle open, sits in the sun, the green scutes of its back shining; and one time, in the evening, he saw a living hedgehog! Here he, too, could not restrain himself from joy and almost shouted and clapped his hands, but fearing to frighten the prickly animal, he held his breath and, with his happy eyes wide open, watched in delight as he, snorting, sniffed the roots of a rose bush with his pig snout, looking for worms between them, and comically fingered his plump paws, similar to those of a bear.

“Vasya, dear, go home, it’s getting damp,” my sister said loudly.

And the hedgehog, frightened by the human voice, quickly pulled its prickly fur coat over its forehead and hind legs and turned into a ball. The boy quietly touched its thorns; the animal shrank even more and began to puff dully and hastily, like a small steam engine.

Then he got to know this hedgehog a little. He was such a weak, quiet and meek boy that even small animals seemed to understand this and soon got used to him. What a joy it was when the hedgehog tasted milk from a saucer brought by the owner of the flower garden!

This spring the boy could not go to his favorite corner. His sister was still sitting next to him, but no longer at the window, but at his bedside; she read the book, but not for herself, but out loud to him, because it was difficult for him to lift his emaciated head from the white pillows and difficult to hold even the smallest volume in his skinny hands, and his eyes soon got tired of reading. He will probably never go out to his favorite corner again.

- Masha! - he suddenly whispers to his sister.

- What, honey?

- So, is kindergarten good now? Have the roses bloomed?

The sister leans over, kisses his pale cheek and at the same time quietly wipes away a tear.

- Okay, darling, very good. And the roses bloomed. We'll go there together on Monday. The doctor will let you out.

The boy does not answer and takes a deep breath. My sister starts reading again.

- It will already be. I'm tired. I'd rather sleep.

The sister adjusted his pillows and white blanket, he turned to the wall with difficulty and fell silent. The sun shone through the window overlooking the flower garden and cast bright rays onto the bed and the small body lying on it, illuminating the pillows and blanket and gilding the child’s short-cropped hair and thin neck.

Rose knew none of this; she grew and showed off; the next day it was supposed to bloom in full bloom, and on the third it should begin to wither and crumble. That's all pink life! But even in this short life she experienced a lot of fear and grief.

A toad noticed her.

When she saw the flower for the first time with her evil and ugly eyes, something strange stirred in the toad’s heart. She could not tear herself away from the delicate pink petals and kept looking and looking. She really liked the rose, she felt a desire to be closer to such a fragrant and beautiful creature. And to express her tender feelings, she couldn’t come up with anything better than these words:

“Wait,” she croaked, “I’ll eat you up!”

Rose shuddered. Why was it attached to its stem? Free birds, chirping around her, jumped and flew from branch to branch; sometimes they were carried away somewhere far away, where the rose did not know. The butterflies were also free. How she envied them! If she had been like them, she would have fluttered up and flown away from the evil eyes that were pursuing her with their gaze. Rose did not know that toads sometimes lie in wait for butterflies.

Once upon a time there lived a rose and a toad. The rose bush on which the rose bloomed grew in a small semicircular flower garden in front of the village house. The flower garden was very neglected; weeds grew thickly over old flowerbeds that had grown into the ground and along paths that no one had cleaned or sprinkled with sand for a long time. A wooden lattice with pegs trimmed in the form of tetrahedral peaks, once painted with green oil paint, is now completely peeling, dried out and fell apart; The pikes were taken away by the village boys to play soldiers and by the men who approached the house to fight off the angry watchdog with a company of other dogs.
And the flower garden became no worse from this destruction. The remains of the lattice were woven with hops, dodder with large white flowers, and mouse peas hanging in whole pale green heaps, with lavender tassels of flowers scattered here and there. The thorny thistles on the oily and wet soil of the flower garden (there was a large shady garden around it) reached such large sizes that they almost seemed like trees. The yellow mulleins raised their flower-lined arrows even higher than them. Nettles occupied an entire corner of the flower garden; it, of course, burned, but one could admire its dark greenery from afar, especially when this greenery served as a background for a delicate and luxurious pale rose flower.
It blossomed on a fine May morning; when she opened her petals, the flying away morning dew left a few clean, transparent tears on them. Rose was definitely crying. But everything around her was so good, so clean and clear on this beautiful morning, when for the first time she saw the blue sky and felt the fresh morning breeze and the rays of the shining sun, penetrating her thin petals with pink light; it was so peaceful and calm in the flower garden that if she could really cry, it would be not from grief, but from the happiness of living. She couldn't speak; she could only bow her head and spread a subtle and fresh smell around her, and this smell was her words, tears and prayer.
And below, between the roots of the bush, on the damp ground, as if stuck to it with its flat belly, sat a rather fat old toad, which had spent the whole night hunting for worms and midges and in the morning sat down to rest from its labors, choosing a shadier and damper place. She sat with her toad eyes covered with membranes and breathed barely noticeably, swelling her dirty gray warty and sticky sides and putting one ugly paw to the side: she was too lazy to move it to her belly. She did not rejoice in the morning, or the sun, or good weather; She had already eaten and was getting ready to rest.
But when the breeze died down for a minute and the scent of the rose did not drift away, the toad felt it, and it caused her vague uneasiness; however, for a long time she was too lazy to look where this smell was coming from.
No one had gone to the flower garden where the rose grew and where the toad sat for a long time. Last year in the fall, on the very day when the toad, having found a good crevice under one of the foundation stones of the house, was going to climb there for winter hibernation, a little boy entered the flower garden for the last time, who spent the whole summer sitting in it every clear day under the window of the house. An adult girl, his sister, was sitting by the window; she was reading a book or sewing something and occasionally glanced at her brother. He was a small boy of about seven, with big eyes and a large head on a thin body. He loved his flower garden very much (it was his flower garden, because besides him, almost no one went to this abandoned place) and, having arrived there, he sat in the sun on an old wooden bench that stood on a dry sandy path that had survived near the at home, because people were walking around closing the shutters, and he began to read the book he had brought with him.
- Vasya, do you want me to throw you a ball? - my sister asks from the window. - Maybe you can run with him?
- No, Masha, I’d rather do it this way, with a book.
And he sat for a long time and read. And when he got tired of reading about Robinsons, and wild countries, and sea robbers, he left the open book and climbed into the thicket of the flower garden. Here he knew every bush and almost every stem. He squatted down in front of a thick mullein stalk surrounded by shaggy whitish leaves, which was three times taller than him, and for a long time watched how the ant people ran up to their cows - grass aphids, how an ant delicately touched the thin tubes sticking out of the aphids on the back, and picks up clear droplets of sweet liquid that appear at the tips of the tubes. He watched as a dung beetle busily and diligently drags its ball somewhere, like a spider, spreading a cunning rainbow network, guards the flies, like a lizard, with its blunt muzzle open, sits in the sun, the green scutes of its back shining; and one time, in the evening, he saw a living hedgehog! Here he, too, could not restrain himself from joy and almost shouted and clapped his hands, but fearing to frighten the prickly animal, he held his breath and, with his happy eyes wide open, watched in delight as he, snorting, sniffed the roots of a rose bush with his pig snout, looking for worms between them, and comically fingered his plump paws, similar to those of a bear.
“Vasya, dear, go home, it’s getting damp,” my sister said loudly.
And the hedgehog, frightened by the human voice, quickly pulled its prickly fur coat over its forehead and hind legs and turned into a ball. The boy quietly touched its thorns; the animal shrank even more and began to puff dully and hastily, like a small steam engine.
Then he got to know this hedgehog a little. He was such a weak, quiet and meek boy that even small animals seemed to understand this and soon got used to him. What a joy it was when the hedgehog tasted milk from a saucer brought by the owner of the flower garden!
This spring the boy could not go to his favorite corner. His sister was still sitting next to him, but no longer at the window, but at his bedside; she read the book, but not for herself, but out loud to him, because it was difficult for him to lift his emaciated head from the white pillows and difficult to hold even the smallest volume in his skinny hands, and his eyes soon got tired of reading. He will probably never go out to his favorite corner again.
- Masha! - he suddenly whispers to his sister.
- What, honey?
- So, is kindergarten good now? Have the roses bloomed?
The sister leans over, kisses his pale cheek and at the same time quietly wipes away a tear.
- Okay, darling, very good. And the roses bloomed. We'll go there together on Monday. The doctor will let you out.
The boy does not answer and takes a deep breath. My sister starts reading again.
- It will already be. I'm tired. I'd rather sleep.
The sister adjusted his pillows and white blanket, he turned to the wall with difficulty and fell silent. The sun shone through the window overlooking the flower garden and cast bright rays onto the bed and the small body lying on it, illuminating the pillows and blanket and gilding the child’s short-cropped hair and thin neck.
Rose knew none of this; she grew and showed off; the next day it was supposed to bloom in full bloom, and on the third it should begin to wither and crumble. That's all pink life! But even in this short life she experienced a lot of fear and grief.
A toad noticed her.
When she saw the flower for the first time with her evil and ugly eyes, something strange stirred in the toad’s heart. She could not tear herself away from the delicate pink petals and kept looking and looking. She really liked the rose, she felt a desire to be closer to such a fragrant and beautiful creature. And to express her tender feelings, she couldn’t come up with anything better than these words:
“Wait,” she croaked, “I’ll eat you up!”
Rose shuddered. Why was it attached to its stem? Free birds, chirping around her, jumped and flew from branch to branch; sometimes they were carried away somewhere far away, where the rose did not know. The butterflies were also free. How she envied them! If she had been like them, she would have fluttered up and flown away from the evil eyes that were pursuing her with their gaze. Rose did not know that toads sometimes lie in wait for butterflies.
- I'll eat you up! - the toad repeated, trying to speak as gently as possible, which turned out even more terrible, and crawled closer to the rose.
- I'll eat you up! - she repeated, still looking at the flower.
And the poor creature saw with horror how nasty sticky paws cling to the branches of the bush on which she grew. However, it was difficult for the toad to climb: its flat body could crawl and jump freely only on level ground. After each effort, she looked up, where the flower swayed, and the rose froze.
- God! - she prayed, - if only I could die a different death!
And the toad kept climbing higher. But where the old trunks ended and the young branches began, she had to suffer a little. The dark green, smooth bark of the rose bush was covered with sharp and strong thorns. The toad broke its paws and belly on them and, bleeding, fell to the ground. She looked at the flower with hatred...
“I said I’ll eat you up!” – she repeated.
Evening came; it was necessary to think about dinner, and the wounded toad trudged off to lie in wait for unwary insects. Anger didn't stop her from filling her belly, as always; her scratches were not very dangerous, and she decided, after resting, to again get to the flower that attracted her and hated her.
She rested for quite a long time. Morning came, midday passed, and the rose almost forgot about her enemy. She had already completely blossomed and was the most beautiful creature in the flower garden. There was no one to come to admire her: the little master lay motionless on his bed, the sister did not leave him and did not appear at the window. Only birds and butterflies scurried around the rose, and bees, buzzing, sometimes sat in its open corolla and flew out from there, completely shaggy from the yellow flower dust. A nightingale flew in, climbed into a rose bush and sang its song. How different it was from the wheezing of a toad! Rose listened to this song and was happy: it seemed to her that the nightingale was singing for her, and maybe it was true. She did not see how her enemy quietly climbed onto the branches. This time the toad no longer spared either its paws or its belly: blood covered it, but it bravely climbed upward - and suddenly, amid the ringing and gentle rumble of the nightingale, the rose heard a familiar wheezing:
- I said I would eat it, and I will eat it!
The toad's eyes gazed at her from a nearby branch. The evil animal had only one movement left to grab the flower. Rose realized that she was dying...
The little master had been lying motionless on the bed for a long time. The sister, sitting at the head of the chair, thought that he was sleeping. She had an open book on her lap, but she wasn't reading it. Little by little her tired head bowed: the poor girl had not slept for several nights, never leaving her sick brother, and now dozed off slightly.
“Masha,” he suddenly whispered.
The sister perked up. She dreamed that she was sitting by the window, that her little brother was playing, like last year, in the flower garden and calling her. Opening her eyes and seeing him in bed, thin and weak, she sighed heavily.
-What, honey?
– Masha, you told me that the roses have bloomed! Can I... have one?
- You can, my dear, you can! “She went to the window and looked at the bush. There was one, but very lush rose growing there.
“A rose has blossomed just for you, and what a lovely one!” Should I put it here on the table in a glass? Yes?
- Yes, on the table. I would like to.
The girl took the scissors and went out into the garden. She had not left the room for a long time; the sun blinded her, and the fresh air made her slightly dizzy. She approached the bush at the very moment when the toad wanted to grab the flower.
- Oh, what disgusting! – she screamed.
And grabbing a branch, she shook it violently: the toad fell to the ground and flopped on its belly. In a rage, she was about to jump at the girl, but could not jump higher than the hem of the dress and immediately flew far away, thrown back by the toe of her shoe. She did not dare try again and only from a distance saw the girl carefully cut the flower and carry it into the room.
When the boy saw his sister with a flower in her hand, for the first time after a long time he smiled faintly and with difficulty made a movement with his thin hand.
“Give it to me,” he whispered. - I'll smell it.
The sister put the stem in his hand and helped him move it towards his face. He inhaled the delicate scent and, smiling happily, whispered:
- Oh, how good...
Then his face became serious and motionless, and he fell silent... forever.
The rose, although it was cut before it began to crumble, felt that it had not been cut for nothing. It was placed in a separate glass next to the small coffin. There were whole bouquets of other flowers, but, to tell the truth, no one paid attention to them, and when the young girl put the rose on the table, she raised it to her lips and kissed it. A small tear fell from her cheek onto the flower, and this was the best incident in the rose’s life. When it began to fade, they put it in a thick old book and dried it, and then, many years later, gave it to me. That's why I know this whole story.

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General educational goal: continue working on the fairy tale by V.M. Garshin "The Tale of the Toad and the Rose".

Tasks:

• teach thoughtful, conscious reading;
• help students understand the world as the embodiment of good and evil, happiness and compassion;
• learn to find answers to questions in the text.

Developmental goal: Develop students’ ability to generalize and draw conclusions.

Tasks:

• develop the ability to work with text and analyze what you read;
• develop coherent speech, the ability to give complete answers;
• Expand words knowledge.

Educational purpose: cultivate moral values ​​- sensitivity towards people, the ability to resist evil.

Tasks:

• cultivate a sense of empathy and love for nature and man, the ability to resist evil;
• cultivate a respectful attitude towards the opinions of your comrades;
• cultivate interest in reading.

Health-saving task: prevention of eye fatigue, prevention of poor posture.

Teacher equipment:

• multimedia equipment;
• music center and disk;

Student equipment:

• textbook for grade 4 “Literary reading” Klimanova L.F., Goretsky V.G., Golovanova M.V.;
• cards with a test to test knowledge of the content and idea of ​​a fairy tale;
• worksheets for group work.

During the classes

“The Tale of the Toad and the Rose” is the most famous work of Vsevolod Mikhailovich Garshin. This literary fairy tale has long been included in the school curriculum and is loved by young readers. In this article we will present a brief summary of the work and provide its analysis.

“The Tale of the Toad and the Rose”: summary

Once upon a time there lived a toad and a rose. In the flower garden that was located in front of the village house, there was a bush where a rose bloomed. This flower garden was very neglected; it was overgrown with weeds, which had already reached the paths. The wooden lattice surrounding it had completely fallen apart and the green paint was peeling off. Part of the fence was taken away for boys and village men to play with - to fight off the dogs.

However, the beauty of the flower garden did not suffer at all from this desolation and destruction. The remains of the lattice were entwined with flowering sprouts of hops and dodder, and mouse peas. Even the overgrown nettles decorated the flower garden with their rich green color.

Toad

The Tale of the Toad and the Rose depicts an idealistic picture of natural beauty. It was here, in this neglected but harmonious place, that a rose bloomed on a May morning. The morning dew left a few droplets on her, and she seemed to be crying. However, peace and tranquility reigned around her, she felt good under the gentle rays of the sun and the breath of the morning breeze. And indeed, she could cry, but not from grief, but from joy. Rose was speechless, but the subtle scent she exuded served her with words, tears, and prayers.

Below on the damp ground, in the roots of the bushes, sat a fat old toad, who decided to rest in the shade after a night hunt for midges and worms. Her eyes were tightly membraned, she could barely breathe, her gray warty sides swelling. One paw was set aside because the toad was too lazy to move it closer to its belly. She was not happy with the sun, morning and good weather; the toad was happy anyway, because she had eaten enough and was now resting.

Brother and sister

The Tale of the Toad and the Rose tells about beauty and ugliness. Its main task is to show how dissimilar and incompatible these concepts are.

But then the breeze died down, and the smell of the rose, which had previously been wafting throughout the area, reached the toad’s nose and caused her strange anxiety. But for a long time the toad was too lazy to look at what exactly was emitting this aroma.

Nobody had appeared in the flower garden where the rose and the toad lived for a long time. Last fall, a boy visited here for the last time, having previously spent the entire summer here. That same day, the toad found a beautiful hole in the foundation stones, where it could safely hibernate. The boy was near the house, and his older sister was sitting by the window. She sat by the window, keeping an eye on her brother, and was sewing or reading something.

Her brother Vasya was about seven years old, his body was thin with “big eyes and a big head.” The boy loved this flower garden very much and considered it his own, since no one else had ever come here except him. In this abandoned place, he basked in the sun, sitting on an old wooden bench that stood on a sandy path next to the old house and miraculously survived. It was on this bench that the boy spent his summer days, reading the book he had brought with him.

Meeting with a hedgehog

It is no coincidence that Garshin introduces these two heroes into his narrative (“The Tale of the Toad and the Rose”). It is these two images that will help the writer fully reveal the difference between beauty and ugliness and the unequal power of these principles.

More than once during these summer days, my sister suggested that my brother leave the book and run a little and play with a ball. But Vasya refused each time, preferring to continue reading. The boy sat on the bench for a very long time and read about wild countries, Robinson, sea robbers. When he got tired of it, he climbed into the flower garden. Here he knew every plant down to the last stem, and he spent a long time watching insects: ants, ladybugs, spiders, dung beetles. Once he even managed to see a hedgehog. Vasya almost screamed with joy and began to clap his hands. Afraid of scaring off the animal, the boy hid. He watched the hedgehog snort and sniff the roots of the bushes, looking for worms, while the hedgehog funnyly fingered its “plump paws”, very similar to those of a bear.

Why doesn't the boy go out to the garden?

Despite the title of the work - “The Tale of the Toad and the Rose” - its main character is still the boy Vasya. It is his fate that Garshin talks about.

He was still watching the hedgehog when his sister called him home. Hearing a human voice, the animal got scared and immediately turned into a prickly ball. Vasya touched him, and the hedgehog shrank even tighter and began to puff like a “small steam engine.” Later, Vasya got to know the animal better. The boy was so quiet, weak and meek that even small animals and insects, as if understanding this, quickly got used to him and began to let him closer to them. The same thing happened with the hedgehog. Vasya began to feed the animal.

But this spring the boy could no longer go out to his favorite flower garden. His sister was also sitting next to him, but now not by the window, but next to the bed. She read the book aloud to him, since Vasya could no longer lift his head from the pillow or hold the book in his emaciated hands. And the author suggests that the boy will probably never be destined to go out into his flower garden.

Disease

Of course, only reading will help you understand all the twists and turns of the plot. “The Tale of the Toad and the Rose” is a work that requires thoughtfulness. However, even a brief summary makes it possible to get a general idea of ​​the work.

The boy, lying in bed, asks his sister how his garden is and whether the roses have bloomed there. The girl, with tears in her eyes, kisses her brother on his pale cheek. She says that the roses have bloomed and promises Vasya to go there on Monday - the doctor must allow it. In response, the boy is silent and just sighs. The sister continues reading, but the brother asks her to stop - he is too tired and wants to sleep. The girl straightens the blanket for him, Vasya turns to the wall. The sun's rays fall from the window overlooking the flower garden onto the boy's bed, illuminating his thin neck and hair.

At the same time, Rose, knowing nothing about the boy, grew up and enjoyed life. The next day it was supposed to bloom in “full color”, and three days later it would wither and crumble. This will be the end of her “pink life”. But before that, she will have to experience a lot of grief and fear. The toad finally notices Rose.

Toad and Rose

The tale of V. M. Garshin is very poetic and at the same time tragic. Toad and rose finally meet. The toad is the first to notice the flower with its ugly, evil eyes. She couldn't take her eyes off the delicate petals. The Toad really liked the rose and wanted to be closer to it. She didn't know how to express her feelings, so she said, "Wait, I'll eat you up."

These words scared the rose. Why did she have the fate of being stuck to the stem, because she could be free, like the birds or butterflies flying around. At that moment she was very jealous of them. If she had wings, the rose could fly away from evil eyes. She did not know that the toad often hunted butterflies.

The main idea of ​​“The Tale of the Toad and the Rose” is the incompatibility of ugliness and kindness, beauty and evil. And so the toad repeats again: “I will eat you.” Despite the fact that she wanted to speak more tenderly, it turned out even more terrible and disgusting. The toad repeated these words again.

Rose noticed in horror how the sticky toad paws cling to her bush. But it was difficult for her to climb up - her flat body could only jump in a straight line and crawl. The toad continually interrupted its ascent and looked up. At this moment the rose froze and prayed for any other death.

The toad continued to climb. But then she had to crawl onto a young vine strewn with needles. The toad pricked its belly and paws on it, and then, bloodied, fell down. She stared at the rose with hatred and repeated the same words.

Approaching death

Makes the reader feel the horror of a defenseless creature being hunted by a merciless enemy, "The Tale of the Toad and the Rose." The content does not let the reader go for a minute.

Evening is approaching, the toad thinks about dinner and goes hunting for insects. Anger did not stop her from eating heartily. And her wounds were not so deep, so after dinner the toad decided to rest and try to get to the rose again.

But she rested for quite a long time. Morning and afternoon passed, and the rose almost forgot about the terrible threat. Her petals had almost bloomed, and she became the most beautiful plant in the flower garden. But there was no one to admire her - the boy lay exhausted in bed, and his sister did not leave him and did not even approach the window. Only birds, butterflies and bees flew around her. The nightingale, sitting on a rose bush, began to sing. And how could this voice not sound like the wheezing of a toad? Rose was happy, it seemed to her that this song was for her. She did not notice that her enemy was getting closer.

The toad no longer spared its belly. Bleeding, she continued to crawl upward. And then the rose heard through the nightingale’s singing a vile wheezing: “I said that I would eat it, and I will eat it.” The toad was looking at the rose from a nearby branch. One movement would be enough for the evil creature to grab the flower.

Unfulfilled wish

The Tale of the Toad and the Rose continues. Vasya hasn’t gotten out of bed for a long time. The sister sitting nearby thought that the boy was sleeping. The girl did not sleep for many nights, taking care of the patient, and now gradually fell asleep. Suddenly her brother called her. At that moment, my sister was dreaming about last summer, about her brother playing in the garden. Hearing his voice, she perked up.

Vasya asked his sister to bring him one rose. The girl looked out the window and saw just one beautiful flower on the bush.

She went out into the garden, taking the scissors. The girl approached the bush just at the moment when the toad was about to grab the flower. Seeing this, she screamed “what disgusting.” After that, she shook the branch - the toad could not resist and fell to the ground. The nasty creature tried to jump on the girl, but she threw her away. From a distance, she powerlessly watched as the flower was cut and taken into the house.

Denouement

The incredible thirst of ugliness to destroy beauty is the main idea of ​​the fairy tale about the toad. In this case, Rose is given the unenviable role of a defenseless victim - even thorns cannot save her. The only mercy for her is death not from the paws of a toad.

Seeing the flower brought by his sister, the boy smiled for the first time in a long time, and then asked to let him smell it. He inhaled the aroma, whispered a final “how good” - and died.

Despite the fact that the rose was cut before its petals flew around, she felt that she was not dying prematurely in vain. The flower was placed at the child's coffin. There were many other flowers here, but no one was interested in them. And when it began to wither, they dried it. Many years later, the dried rose was given to the narrator - that’s how he knows this story.

“The Tale of the Toad and the Rose”: main idea and analysis

So, the main images of the work (toad and rose) personify two opposite principles - ugly and beautiful, evil and good. The disgusting lazy toad hates everything beautiful and lofty. Rose is its direct opposite, she is the embodiment of joy and beauty. These two images symbolize the struggle of two eternal principles. It is very easy to reveal the author's relationship to these characters - just look at what epithets he chooses to describe them. So, when describing a rose, beautiful, sublime words are used. The toad is endowed with such base qualities as anger, stupidity, greed, and laziness.

The main idea of ​​“The Tale of the Toad and the Rose” is that evil cannot overcome good, but beauty (internal or external) can save our world, full of various human shortcomings. And even despite the fact that the work ends sadly, and the boy and the rose die, such an ending evokes in the reader, in addition to sadness, also a certain light sadness, since these characters were associated with beauty. We should not forget that the death of the rose could bring the child the last joy, brightening up the last moments of his life. In addition, the flower itself was glad of such a death, since it not only brought good to the boy, but also saved him from the terrible toad, which could only feel hatred.

Garshin's fairy tale teaches the reader kindness and love for beauty, calls on him to avoid and ignore evil. Beauty is not only in appearance, but also in the soul. That is why the rose so easily agreed to sacrifice her life, thereby making even death beautiful.

In addition, the author shows how defenseless beauty is in front of the ugly face of evil. Rose could not resist the toad, she needed protection. So one more conclusion can be drawn from this - beauty and goodness must be protected.