It was late evening, home teacher Yegor Alekseevich. Anton Chekhov "in the pharmacy"

standing behind a sleek desk was a tall gentleman with his head thrown back solidly, a stern face and well-groomed sideburns, by all appearances a pharmacist. (4) Starting from the small bald spot on his head and ending with his long pink nails, everything on this man was carefully ironed, cleaned and as if licked. (5) His frowning eyes looked down on the newspaper lying on the desk. (6) He was reading. (7) Svoykin went up to the desk and handed the ironed gentleman the recipe. (8) He, without looking at him, took the recipe, read to the point in the newspaper and, making a slight half-turn of his head to the right, muttered: - (9) It will be ready in an hour. - (10) Isn’t it possible to do it sooner? – asked Svoykin. - (11) It is absolutely impossible for me to wait. (12) The pharmacist did not answer. (13) Svoikin sat down on the sofa and began to wait. (14) Svoikin was sick. (15) His mouth was burning, there were nagging pains in his legs and arms, and foggy images like clouds and shrouded human figures wandered through his heavy head. (16) Frustration and brain fog took over his body more and more, and in order to cheer himself up, he decided to talk to the pharmacist. - (17) I must be starting to have a fever. (18) My other happiness is that I got sick in the capital! (19) God forbid such an attack in a village where there are no doctors or pharmacies! (20) The pharmacist did not respond to Svoykin’s appeal to him either in word or movement, as if he had not heard. (21) Having not received an answer to his question, Svoykin began examine the stern, arrogantly learned physiognomy of the pharmacist. (22) “Strange people, by God! - he thought. – (23) In a healthy state, you don’t notice these dry, callous faces, but when you get sick, like I am now, you will be horrified that a holy cause has fallen into the hands of this insensitive ironing figure.” – (24) Get it! - the pharmacist finally said, without looking at Svoikin. - (25) Put a ruble six kopecks into the cash register! - (26) A ruble six kopecks? - Svoykin muttered, embarrassed. - (27) And I only have one ruble... (28) How can this be? - (29) I don’t know! - the pharmacist minted, starting to eat the newspaper. - (30) In that case, you'll excuse me... (31) I'll bring you six kopecks tomorrow or eventually send you. - (32) This is impossible! (33) Go home, bring six kopecks, then you’ll get the medicine! (34) Svoykin left the pharmacy and went to his home. (35) While the teacher got to his room, he sat down to rest about five times. (36) Arriving at his place and finding several copper coins in the table, he sat down on the bed to rest. (37) Some force pulled his head towards the pillow. (38) He lay down, as if for a minute. (39) Foggy images in the form of clouds and shrouded figures began to cloud my consciousness. (40) For a long time he remembered that he needed to go to the pharmacy, for a long time he forced himself to get up, but the illness took its toll. (41) Coppers spilled out of his fist, and the patient began to dream that he had already gone to the pharmacy and was again talking with the pharmacist there.
Help me formulate the problem of the text....

I’m sitting and thinking, preparing for tomorrow’s Unified State Exam. In general, in my opinion, there is a problem here with 1) mercy or 2) empathy.
1) The heroine of the novel by F.M. Dostoevsky “Crime and Punishment”, Sonya Marmeladova , with his compassion saves Rodion Raskolnikov from spiritual death. She gets him to turn himself in and then goes with him to hard labor, helping Rodion with her love to find his lost faith. The hero of the story M.A. Sholokhov “The Fate of a Man” Andrei Sokolov lost all his loved ones during the war. But this did not embitter him. He adopts the orphan boy Vanyusha, showing true mercy and kindness.

(1) It was late evening. (2) Home teacher Yegor Alekseich Svoikin, in order not to waste time, went straight from the doctor to the pharmacy.

(3) Standing behind a yellow, shiny desk was a tall gentleman with his head thrown back solidly, a stern face and well-groomed sideburns, apparently a pharmacist. (4) Starting from the small bald spot on his head and ending with his long pink nails, everything on this man was carefully ironed, cleaned and as if licked. (5) His frowning eyes looked down on the newspaper lying on the desk. (6) He read.

(7) Svoykin went up to the desk and handed the ironed gentleman the recipe. (8) He, without looking at him, took the recipe, read to the point in the newspaper and, making a slight half-turn of his head to the right, muttered:

It will be ready in an hour.

- (9) Isn’t it possible to hurry up? - asked Svoykin. - (10) It is absolutely impossible for me to wait.

(11) The pharmacist did not answer. (12) Svoykin sat down on the sofa and began to wait.

(13) Svoykin was sick. (14) His mouth was burning, there were nagging pains in his legs and arms, and foggy images like clouds and shrouded human figures wandered through his heavy head. (15) Frustration and brain fog took over his body more and more, and in order to cheer himself up, he decided to talk to the pharmacist.

- (16) I must be starting to have a fever. (17) My other happiness is that I got sick in the capital! (18) God forbid such a misfortune occurs in a village where there are no doctors or pharmacies!

(19) The pharmacist did not respond to Svoykin’s appeal to him either in word or movement, as if he had not heard.

(20) Having not received an answer to his question, Svoykin began to examine the stern, arrogantly learned physiognomy of the pharmacist.

“(21) Strange people, by God! - he thought. - (22) In a healthy state, you don’t notice these dry, callous faces, but when you get sick, like me now, you’ll be horrified that a holy cause has fallen into the hands of this insensitive ironing figure.”

- (23) Get it! - the pharmacist finally said, without looking at Svoikin. - (24) Put a ruble and six kopecks into the cash register!

- (25) A ruble and six kopecks? - Svoykin muttered, embarrassed. - (26) And I only have one ruble... (27) What can I do?

- (28) I don’t know! - the pharmacist said, starting to read the newspaper.

- (29) In that case, you'll excuse me... (30) I'll bring you six kopecks tomorrow or send you in the end.

- (31) This is impossible! (32) Go home, bring six kopecks, then you’ll get your medicine!
- (33) Svoykin left the pharmacy and went to his home. (34) While the teacher got to his room, he sat down to rest about five times. (35) Arriving at his place and finding several copper coins in the table, he sat down on the bed to rest. (3b) Some force pulled his head towards the pillow. (37) He lay down, as if for a minute. (38) Foggy images in the form of clouds and shrouded figures began to cloud my consciousness. (39) For a long time he remembered that he needed to go to the pharmacy, for a long time he forced himself to get up, but the illness took its toll. (40) Coppers spilled out of his fist, and the patient began to dream that he had already gone to the pharmacy and was again talking with the pharmacist there.

- (According to A.P. Chekhov*)

- * Anton Pavlovich Chekhov (1860-1904) - an outstanding Russian writer, a classic of world literature.

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Heartlessness, rudeness, indifference... How often are these qualities found in people around you? IN this text The author raises the problem of heartless attitude towards people.

Chekhov reveals the problem using an example from the life of the hero Yegor Alekseevich Svoykin. He was seriously ill, he urgently needed medicine, but when I go to the pharmacy, he discovered there leisurely, callous a pharmacist who didn’t even try to put himself in the hero’s position and help him. The pharmacist also proves his callousness and inability to empathize in the case of a patient’s lack of money for necessary medications. A man who, by definition of his profession, should help people, was simply indifferent and cynical about the sick hero.

At the pharmacy

It was late evening. Home teacher Yegor Alekseich Svoikin, in order not to waste time, went straight from the doctor to the pharmacy.

“It’s like you’re going to a rich kept woman or a railroad worker,” he thought, climbing the pharmacy stairs, shiny and covered with expensive carpets. “It’s scary to step on!”

Entering the pharmacy, Svoykin was overwhelmed by the smell inherent in all pharmacies in the world. Science and medicine change over the years, but the smell of a pharmacy is as eternal as matter. Our grandfathers smelled it, and our grandchildren will smell it too. Due to the late hour, there were no people in the pharmacy. Behind a shiny yellow desk, lined with vases with signatures, stood a tall gentleman with his head thrown back solidly, a stern face and well-groomed sideburns - by all appearances, a pharmacist. Starting from the small bald spot on his head and ending with his long pink nails, everything on this man was carefully ironed, cleaned and as if licked, even if he walked down the aisle. His frowning eyes looked down at the newspaper lying on the desk. He read. A cashier sat to the side behind a wire grill, lazily counting change. On the other side of the counter separating the Latin kitchen from the crowd, two dark figures were scurrying around in the semi-darkness. Svoykin went up to the desk and handed the ironed gentleman a recipe. He, without looking at him, took the recipe, read to the point in the newspaper and, making a slight half-turn of his head to the right, muttered:

Calomeli grana duo, sacchari albi grana quinque, numero decem! 1
- Ja! 2 - a sharp, metallic voice was heard from the depths of the pharmacy.

The pharmacist dictated the mixture in the same dull, measured voice.

Ja! - was heard from another corner.

The pharmacist wrote something on the recipe, frowned and, throwing his head back, lowered his eyes to the newspaper.

“It will be ready in an hour,” he muttered through his teeth, searching with his eyes for the point where he had stopped.
- Can't you hurry up? - Svoykin muttered. “It’s absolutely impossible for me to wait.”

The pharmacist did not answer. Svoykin sat down on the sofa and began to wait. The cashier finished counting the change, took a deep breath and clicked the key. In the depths, one of the dark figures was fidgeting around a marble mortar. Another figure was chattering something in a blue bottle. Somewhere a clock was knocking rhythmically and carefully.

Svoykin was ill. His mouth was burning, there was a nagging pain in his legs and arms, and foggy images like clouds and shrouded human figures wandered through his heavy head. He saw the pharmacists, shelves with cans, gas jets, whatnots through the flair, and the monotonous knock on the marble mortar and the slow ticking of the clock seemed to him to be happening not outside, but in his very head... Frustration and brain fog took over his body more and more , so after waiting a little and feeling sick from the sound of the marble mortar, he decided to talk to the pharmacist to cheer himself up...

“I must be starting to have a fever,” he said. “The doctor said that it’s still difficult to decide what kind of illness I have, but I’m so weak... I’m also lucky that I got sick in the capital, and God forbid I have such a misfortune in the village.” , where there are no doctors or pharmacies!

The pharmacist stood motionless and, throwing his head back, read. He did not respond to Svoykin’s address to him with either a word or a movement, as if he had not heard... The cashier yawned loudly and struck a match on his trousers... The sound of the marble mortar became louder and louder. Seeing that they were not listening to him, Svoykin raised his eyes to the shelves with jars and began to read the inscriptions... At first, all kinds of “radixes” flashed before him: gentiana, pimpinella, tormentilla, zedoaria, etc. Behind the radixes, tinctures, oleums, semens flashed, with names each more sophisticated and antediluvian.

“How much unnecessary ballast there must be here! - thought Svoykin. “There is so much routine in these banks, standing here only out of tradition, and at the same time how solid and impressive it all is!”

From the shelves, Svoykin turned his eyes to the glass bookcase standing next to him. Then he saw rubber circles, balls, syringes, jars of toothpaste, Pierrot drops, Adelheim drops, cosmetic soaps, ointment for hair growth...

A boy in a dirty apron entered the pharmacy and asked for 10 kopecks. ox bile.

Tell me, please, what is ox bile used for? - the teacher turned to the pharmacist, delighted with the topic of conversation.

Having not received an answer to his question, Svoykin began to examine the stern, arrogantly learned face of the pharmacist.

“Strange people, by God! - he thought. - Why do they put a learned color on their faces? They charge their neighbors at exorbitant prices, sell ointments for hair growth, and looking at their faces, you might think that they really are priests of science. They write in Latin, speak German... They pretend to be medieval... In a healthy state you don’t notice these dry, callous faces, but when you get sick, like I am now, you’ll be horrified that a holy cause has fallen into the hands of this insensitive ironing figure..."

Examining the motionless face of the pharmacist, Svoykin suddenly felt the desire to lie down, at all costs, away from the light, the learned face and the sound of the marble mortar... Painful fatigue took over his entire being... He walked up to the counter and, making a pleading grimace, asked:

Be so kind as to let me go! I... I'm sick...
- Now... Please don't lean your elbows!

The teacher sat down on the sofa and, driving foggy images out of his head, began to watch the cashier smoke.

“Half an hour has only passed,” he thought. “There is still the same amount left... Unbearable!”

But finally, a small, black pharmacist approached the pharmacist and placed a box of powders and a bottle of pink liquid next to him... The pharmacist read to the point, slowly walked away from the desk and, taking the bottle in his hands, dangled it before his eyes... Then he wrote the signature , tied it to the neck of the bottle and reached for the signet...

“Well, what are these ceremonies for? - thought Svoykin. “It’s a waste of time, and they’ll take extra money for it.”

Having wrapped, bound and sealed the mixture, the pharmacist began to do the same with the powders.

Get it! - he said finally, without looking at Svoikin. - Put a ruble and six kopecks into the cash register!

Svoykin reached into his pocket for money, took out a ruble and immediately remembered that, apart from this ru :), he didn’t have a penny more...

Ruble six kopecks? - he muttered, embarrassed. - And I only have one ruble... I thought that ru:) would be enough... What can I do?
- Don't know! - the pharmacist said, starting to read the newspaper.
- In that case, excuse me... I’ll bring you six kopecks tomorrow or send you...
- This is impossible... We don’t have a loan...
- What should I do?
- Go home, bring six kopecks, then you’ll get your medicine.
- Perhaps, but... it’s hard for me to walk, and there’s no one to send...
- I don’t know... It’s none of my business...
- Hm... - the teacher thought. - Okay, I’ll go home...

Svoykin left the pharmacy and went to his home... By the time he got to his room, he sat down to rest about five times... Arriving at his place and finding several copper coins in the table, he sat down on the bed to rest... Some force pulled his head towards the pillow... He lay down, as if for a minute... Foggy images in the form of clouds and shrouded figures began to cloud his consciousness... For a long time he remembered that he needed to go to the pharmacy, for a long time he forced himself to get up, but the illness took its toll. Coppers poured out of his fist, and the patient began to dream that he had already gone to the pharmacy and was again talking with the pharmacist there.

Anton Chekhov.

1. Calomeli grana duo, sacchari albi grana quinque, numero decem! - Calomel two grains, sugar five grains, ten powders! (lat.).
2. Ja! - Yes! (German).

What place does compassion have in our lives? Is it really important to show compassion to strangers? Why, condemning indifference and inability to help, do we so often ourselves pass by someone else’s misfortune, and the principle of life “my house is on the edge” remains for some at all times the motto of life? These and other questions arise in my mind after reading the text of the great Russian classic A.P. Chekhov.

In his text, the writer raises the problem of compassion. He tells us the story of Svoykin, who, having fallen ill, went to the pharmacy to get medicine. Here he was met by a “ironed gentleman” with a “stern face.” The author emphasizes the appearance of the pharmacist: “...everything on this man was carefully ironed, cleaned and as if licked.” Svoykin had to wait an hour for the medicine.

His condition is getting worse. “His mouth was burning, there were nagging pains in his arms and legs...” The pharmacist does not show any sympathy towards him, demonstrating alienation and indifference. When the medicine was ready, the patient was short six kopecks. The pharmacist refused to give him the medicine. Yegor Alekseich went to get the money, but was no longer able to return to the pharmacy. The problem that the author raises made me think deeply about why people are divided into those who are ready to help and those who find it easier to ignore other people’s problems.

A.P. Chekhov leads us, the readers, to a clear conclusion: people need compassion. The ability to sympathize with the grief of others is a manifestation of true humanity. The author sharply condemns the callous pharmacist and endlessly sympathizes with the sick Svoykin. He was not helped by the pharmacist, a person who also had to serve people for a long time.

I'm completely on the author's side. Compassion occupies an important place in our lives. Helping other people is the need of every person. It is this quality that makes us human. And the fashionable attitudes today: “love yourself,” “live only for yourself,” are feigned and far-fetched. I am convinced that a person comes into this world to bring good. And don’t be shy about being kind and sensitive. A person close to us may take Svoykin’s place.

IN fiction We find many examples of both compassionate and indifferent attitudes towards people. I will give examples.

In L.N. Tolstoy’s epic novel “War and Peace,” Count Rostov and Natasha Rostova, his daughter, give carts to the wounded, unloading their goods. They cannot leave the wounded; for them, someone else’s life is more valuable than material values. And at this time Berg, husband older sister Natasha Vera, buys antique furniture at bargain prices. “Verochka loves such things so much, she will be so happy,” he says, not realizing that there is a war going on, people are dying, there is nothing to transport the wounded. And he has a bookcase. And this situation puts everything in its place. We find the careerist Berg disgusting and the Rostovs incredibly attractive.

In M.A. Bulgakov’s novel “The Master and Margarita,” Margarita can ask Woland for anything. She has something to desire, she wants to see the Master. And the heroine asks to show compassion for Frida, who strangled her child with a handkerchief. She asks not to give her a scarf in order to stop tormenting her soul. She understands the suffering of a stumbled, sinned woman and shows sympathy for her. Margarita saves Frida from suffering and shows true humanity.

From all of the above, I would like to conclude: do not listen to anyone, do not be indifferent and callous. Compassion, empathy, the desire to help - these are the qualities that make us human. Appreciate them and protect them. Our world rests on compassion and kindness.