Drawing by F. Thévenot

Very briefly

Traders on business are detained by a Prussian officer. He demands that the prostitute who finds herself among them surrenders to him. The girl succumbs to the persuasion of her companions, and they turn away from her.

Winter, the French city of Rouen. The Franco-Prussian war is going on. The Prussian army occupies the city. The Germans allow several traders to leave the city for Le Havre on business.

In the early morning ten people leave Rouen in the carriage of the Normandy. Among them: a wholesale wine merchant with his wife, a paper mill owner with his wife, a count with his wife, two nuns, a Democrat Cornudet and a prostitute nicknamed Pyshka. Men, adherents of the Conservative Party, unite against Cornude, and women begin to discuss the prostitute Pyshka.

The crew travels very slowly, constantly getting stuck in snowdrifts. Expecting to arrive quickly, the passengers did not stock up on provisions, and soon became terribly hungry, but there was no tavern or farm where they could buy food on the road. By three o'clock in the afternoon, Pyshka, who did not want to stop at taverns and intended to eat her own supplies on the journey, could not stand it and took out a supply of food for three days. At first, Pyshka hesitates to treat arrogant gentlemen, but soon even virtuous ladies step over their pride and join the meal.

Pyshka says that she cannot see the Prussians on the streets of Rouen and left her hometown out of a sense of patriotism. The night is coming. The journey has been going on for 13 hours. Soon the police stop the crew to check their documents, after which everyone decides to spend the night at the Commercial Hotel. The innkeeper informs Pyshka that the Prussian policeman wants to talk to her. She goes and returns indignant, but does not tell anyone what happened. Everyone is having supper. At night, Cornudet pesters Pyshka, but she does not want to provide him with services while Prussian soldiers are staying in the hotel.

In the morning it turns out that the coachman is missing. When they find him, he explains that the Prussian officer forbade him to harness the carriage. It soon becomes clear that the policeman will not release them until Pyshka surrenders to him. At first, everyone is outraged by the officer's insolence, but the next day they are already beginning to get angry that she does not do what he wants, and what her "profession" suggests.

On the third day, having gathered in the tavern, everyone begins to figure out how to make Pyshka fulfill the condition, scold her and despise her for being stuck here because of her. Even the nuns participate in persuasion and with sophistry they inspire Pyshka that her sacrifice will be pleasing to God.

By the middle of the fourth day, the servant reports that Pyshka agreed and will not come out for dinner. Everyone is celebrating, making greasy jokes, drinking champagne. Only Cornudet believes that they have committed an abomination.

The next morning a harnessed carriage awaits everyone. Everyone ignores the Donkey who comes out and leaves her as if she were a leper. When it's time for lunch, everyone gets out the stored food, only Pyshka has nothing - she did not have time to take care of the food. Full of resentment and rage, Pyshka remembers his basket with three days' provisions, which these bigots did not disdain, and begins to cry. Everyone turns away. Cornudet sings, and until the end of the road Pyshka's sobs are interspersed with the stanzas of the Marseillaise.

Guy de Maupassant

For several days, the remnants of the defeated army passed through the city. It was no longer an army, but a disorderly horde. People with long, dirty beards, in uniforms that had turned into rags, trudged sluggishly, without banners, having lost their parts. It was evident that everyone was depressed, exhausted, had lost the ability to think and make any decisions - and they walked only out of habit, falling from fatigue as soon as they stopped. There were mainly mobilized spare, peace-loving people, calm rentiers, now bent under the weight of the gun; there were still young soldiers of the mobile guard, easily inspired, but also easily amenable to fear, equally ready to attack and to flee. Among them there were groups of soldiers in red trousers - the remnants of some division defeated in a big battle; artillerymen in dark uniforms, lost among the mass of motley infantrymen; and here and there the helmet of the heavily stepping dragoon, who with difficulty hurried after the lighter step of the infantry, also glittered.

Detachments of bandit-like free shooters were passing, bearing heroic nicknames: "Avengers for defeat", "Citizens of the grave", "Allies in death."

Their commanders - former merchants of cloth, grain, bacon or soap, occasional warriors who received the rank of officers for money, some for long mustaches - people hung with weapons, dressed in thin cloth embroidered with braids, spoke in thunderous voices, discussed the campaign plan and they boastfully asserted that they alone were holding on their shoulders a perishing France; and yet they were sometimes even afraid of their own soldiers, vagabonds and robbers, often desperately brave, and inveterate Mazuriks.

It was rumored that not today or tomorrow the Prussians would enter Rouen.

The National Guard, which for two months with great caution carried out reconnaissance in the surrounding forests, sometimes shooting at their own sentries and preparing for battle whenever a rabbit stirred somewhere in the bushes, now they went home. Weapons, uniforms, all the deadly attributes, which until recently had instilled fear on the boundary pillars along the great roads for three miles around, immediately disappeared.

Finally, the last French soldiers crossed the Seine, heading through Saint-Sever and Bourg-Achar to Pont-Audemer. Behind them all, between the two adjutants, walked on foot, a general in complete despair. He could do nothing with these miserable scattered remnants of the army, and he himself lost his head in the midst of the complete defeat of a nation accustomed to winning, and now, despite his legendary bravery, suffered such a catastrophic defeat.

A deep silence hung over the city, a silent expectation full of horror. Many of the overweight bourgeois, who were stuck behind their counters, waited with melancholy anxiety for the winners, trembling with fear, fearing that their spits and large kitchen knives would be mistaken for weapons.

Life seemed to have stopped: the shops were closed, the street was silent and deserted. Only from time to time did some inhabitant, frightened by this silence, hastily make his way along the walls.

The wait was so painful that many wanted the enemy to come as soon as possible.

The day after the French troops left, a small detachment of lancers, who had appeared out of nowhere, quickly rushed through the city. A short time later, from the slopes of Sainte-Catherine, a black avalanche rolled onto the city, and from the direction of Darnethal and Boisguillaume two other streams of conquerors appeared. The vanguards of all three corps simultaneously converged on the square near the town hall, and from all the neighboring streets the German army was advancing, deploying its battalions, under whose heavy and peaceful step the pavement hummed.

The command, in an unfamiliar guttural language, swept along the houses that seemed deserted, extinct; but because of the closed shutters, many eyes watched these victors, who, by the "right of war", now received power over the city, over the property and lives of citizens. Inhabitants in the darkness of their rooms were seized by the panic horror that accompanies natural disasters bringing death, great cataclysms, before which all human wisdom and power are powerless. Such a feeling always appears when the established order of things is overthrown, when security no longer exists, when everything that was protected by the laws of people or nature is left to the mercy of senseless, cruel and brute force. An earthquake burying an entire population under collapsed houses; a river overflowing its banks, carrying away the corpses of people along with the carcasses of bulls and beams torn from the roofs; or an army covered with glory, which destroys those who defend itself and takes the rest into captivity, which plunders in the name of the sword and, under the roar of weapons, praises God - all these are equally formidable calamities that undermine all faith in eternal justice, all the faith that inspire us, in the protection of heaven and the power of the human mind.

Meanwhile, small detachments knocked on each house and then entered. After the invasion, the occupation began. It was now the responsibility of the vanquished to please the victors.

After a while, the first fear passed and calmness was restored. In many houses, the Prussian officer dined at the same table with the hosts. Sometimes he turned out to be a well-mannered person and, out of politeness, expressed sympathy for France, assuring him that it was difficult for him to participate in this war. Such feelings aroused gratitude. In addition, after all, not today or tomorrow, his patronage could be needed. By caring for him, it was possible, perhaps, to get rid of a few extra soldiers' mouths. And why should we offend those on whom our fate depends entirely? It would not be so much daring as recklessness. And reckless courage is no longer a lack of the Rouen bourgeois, as it once was, during the heroic defense that glorified their city. Finally, the most convincing argument dictated by French courtesy was presented: it is perfectly acceptable to be polite to a foreign soldier at home, so long as not to show friendly intimacy towards him in public. On the street they pretended to be unfamiliar with the guest, but at home they willingly talked to him, and every evening the German sat longer and longer, warming himself by the common hearth.

The city gradually took on its usual form. The French still hardly showed up, but the streets were swarming with Prussian soldiers. After all, the blue hussar commanders, haughtily dragging their long instruments of death across the pavement, showed little more contempt towards the common citizens than did the French riflemen commanders who visited the same cafes a year ago.

And yet, there was something elusive, unknown in the air, there was some unbearably alien atmosphere, like some kind of smell, the smell of an invasion spreading everywhere. He filled public places and dwellings, gave some kind of flavor to food, created the impression that you were traveling somewhere far away, among wild and dangerous tribes.

The main events from the short story "Pyshka" unfold during the Franco-Prussian War. The city of Rouen was occupied by Prussian troops, and ten people, who reflect all strata of the bourgeois society of France, settled in a kind of "Noah's ark" and went to Le Havre. The many-wise Lytrecon describes the plot of the book in a short retelling in order to convey the work of Guy de Maupassant in an abbreviated form.

(400 words) In the early winter morning, ten people in a stagecoach leave this city for Le Havre. Among the passengers: the spouses Loiseau, M. Carré-Lamadon with his wife, Count Hubert de Breville with his wife, two nuns, a Democrat Cornudet and a person of easy virtue named Pyshka.

The coach moved slowly. The passengers had no provisions and, as ill luck would have it, there were no taverns or pubs of any kind on the way. The hunger intensified.

The donut pulled out a large basket from under the bench and began to eat. All eyes were directed to her. The kind bbw shared with all her goodies. It was impossible to eat the girl's provisions and not talk to her, so a conversation began. She confessed that she hated the Prussian soldiers and for this reason left Rouen. She pounced on one of them and fled as a disgraced criminal. The basket is empty.

Almost at night, the carriage drove into the village and stopped at the "Trade Hotel", which was in charge of Mr. Folanvi.

When everyone settled down, and then began to sit down at the table, Folanvi asked the question: "Who is Elisabeth Rousset here?" It turned out to be Pyshka. A Prussian officer called her to him, but she immediately snapped: "No." The innkeeper warned that her refusal could lead to trouble. She agreed.

Ten minutes later, Pyshka returned irritated. As it turned out later, the German demanded professional services from the walking woman. But for her, going to bed with the enemy of the homeland was a disgusting and low act.

In the morning it was time for the stagecoach to continue on their way. However, the coachman said that leaving was prohibited by the officer who demanded and demands Pyshka.

The passengers were at first on her side, but with every hour they spent in the inn, the heat of hatred for poor Elizabeth grew. They did not understand why she, a courtesan, could not step over her pride, seemingly trampled on more than once. If we were talking about an honest woman, they thought, it would be understandable, but a prostitute could be more accommodating.

Waiting passengers began to persuade Pyshka, while others began to put pressure on her. Even the nuns recited passages from the gospel that contain examples of self-sacrifice. People who praised the generous and patriotic girl now humiliated her behind her back and reproached her for disrespecting her fellow travelers. The oppression of contempt was becoming an unbearable burden for her. Ultimately, the unfortunate bbw succumbed to persuasion.

The donut has done its job. The stagecoach was able to continue on its way. Happy passengers stopped seeing their savior as an equal. They looked sideways at her and turned up their nose. Elizabeth, doing the work, did not have time to prepare provisions and when everyone around was eating, no one even thought to share with her. The donut looked at everyone, and these people became disgusting to her. Tears rolled from her eyes.

In Rouen, there is a girl with the nickname Pyshka. It has a round shape. Despite its fullness, Pyshka is very attractive and gentlemen constantly revolve around her. Plump is known for her easy demeanor. She also has a lot of positive human qualities, which are not always appreciated because of her lifestyle.

The donut during the war gladly accepted the Prussians at home, fed and watered them. Once a German visited her. The girl refused and threw him out, because of which she was forced to flee to Le Havre. She travels in a stagecoach, where her companions are the husband and wife of Loiseau, Carré-Lamadon and Count Hubert with their wives, two nuns and Cornudet. During the trip, Pyshka shows its hospitable qualities. Only she took food with her and treats everyone with pleasure. All fellow travelers are happy with her and treat her well.

Everything changes when passengers spend the night at the Trade Hotel. The Prussian officer recognizes Pyshka and wants to spend time with her. The donut doesn't agree to the offer. The officer orders the servants not to give horses for Pyshka and her friends. Having learned the reason, fellow travelers begin to persuade Pyshka together. On the third day, she agrees. The stagecoach hits the road. None of those present wants to talk to the Poor Maiden, she is not even allowed to eat. The poor fellow cries all the way.

Picture or drawing Donut

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What is Guy de Maupassant's story "Pyshka" about ??? and got the best answer

Answer from AN [guru]
"Pyshka" - tells about a "small, coarse, fatty" woman - Elizabeth Rousse, who received the nickname Pyshka for the roundness of her forms. She turned out to be a casual neighbor on the stagecoach of respectable gentlemen: the wine merchant Loiseau with his wife, the manufacturer with his wife, the count and countess de Breville, the democrat of Cordune. All these people leave Rouen, captured by the Prussian troops. On the way, virtuous gentlemen look sideways at their neighbor with contempt. However, they do not hesitate to treat themselves to her food supplies. The donut is kind and responsive, and using this, fellow travelers make her serve their interests. It was under their pressure to continue the journey that Pyshka succumbed to the harassment of a Prussian officer. And again the stagecoach is driving on a winter road. In the corner, Pyshka sits and cries. And the "respectable scoundrels" who first sacrificed her and then threw her away like an unnecessary dirty rag express their contempt to Pyshka. No one wants to share food with her, and the democrat Cornudier whistles "Marseillaise" to drown out the sobs of the unfortunate Pyshka

Answer from Ammer[guru]
About a prostitute.

Answer from Yergei Atzilu[guru]
As a woman ... oh, people saved ...

Answer from Dasha Lozovaya[active]
read the play by Leonid Filatov "Stagecoach" based on "Pyshka".

Answer from Ripe Cherry[guru]
Did they ask this at school? Mraaak ... What are they, really? Which class?
As a child, my mother hid this book from me.
Nothing special, of course, but for a young age it's useless ...

Answer from Andrey Abe[active]
That not everyone in pants is men.

Answer from Anna Gusarova[guru]
everything is correct what they said above. About the spiritual baseness of prosperous gentlemen and how they know how, without a twinge of conscience, to use simple and kind neighbors on the planet.

Answer from Li Lu[guru]
about the black ingratitude of people

Answer from 3 answers[guru]

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