Short Fiction by Vladimir Korolenko (ready player one ebook TXT) 📕
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Vladimir Korolenko was a Ukrainian author and humanitarian. His short stories and novellas draw both on the myths and traditions of his birthplace, and his experiences of Siberia as a political exile due to his outspoken criticism of both the Tsars and the Bolsheviks. His first short story was published in 1879, and over the next decade he received many plaudits from critics and other authors, including Chekhov, though he also received some criticism for perceived uneven quality. He continued writing short stories for the rest of his career, but thought of himself more as a journalist and human rights advocate.
Korolenko’s work focuses on the lives and experiences of poor and down-on-their-luck people; this collection includes stories about life on the road (“A Saghálinian” and “Birds of Heaven”), life in the forest (“Makar’s Dream” and “The Murmuring Forest”), religious experience (“The Old Bell-Ringer,” “The Day of Atonement” and “On the Volva”) and many more. Collected here are all of the available public domain translations into English of Korolenko’s short stories and novels, in chronological order of their translated publication. They were translated by Aline Delano, Sergius Stepniak, William Westall, Thomas Seltzer, Marian Fell, Clarence Manning and The Russian Review.
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- Author: Vladimir Korolenko
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“Luckily for us, an old officer, who for many years had been superintendent of one of the Siberian prisons, was then living in the city. The prison was a large one, and many men had been confined there at different times, everyone of whom spoke well of this old gentleman. Everybody in Siberia knew Samárof; and when I heard, not long ago, that he was dead, I took pains to go to the priest, and paid him fifty kopeks to have his name mentioned in the prayers for the dead. He was a good old man! May he inherit the kingdom of heaven! … Only, he would use the most abusive language. Such a spitfire as he was! He would storm and rage, stamping, and shaking his fists; but nobody feared him. All tried to please him, for he was a just man. It cannot be said that he ever abused or imposed on anyone, or that he ever took a kopek of the artel’s money, except what was freely given him for his kindness. For, as he had a large family, the convicts always remembered him, … and from them he derived a good income. At the time of which I am speaking, he was already on the retired list, and lived quietly in Nikoláevsk, in a house of his own. Still, for old memory’s sake, he took an interest in us, and that evening, while sitting on the porch of his house, smoking a pipe, he saw a fire in Dickman’s Valley.
“ ‘I wonder who started that fire?’ he thought to himself.
“Just then three men belonging to the Free Company happened to be passing by. Hailing them, he said:—
“ ‘Where did your company fish today? Can it be that they are in Dickman’s Valley?’
“ ‘No, your honor,’ they replied. ‘They must be farther up. Besides, they are expected to return tonight.’
“ ‘So I thought. … Do you see that fire beyond the river?’
“ ‘Yes.’
“ ‘Who do you suppose it can be?’
“ ‘We couldn’t tell, Stepán Savélyitch. Vagrants perhaps.’
“ ‘Vagrants, … do you say! … and you have not the sense to take thought for your comrades. … It is I who must think for all. … Haven’t you heard what the isprávnik said the other day about the Saghálinians—that they had been seen not very far off. … I wonder if the fools could have built that fire?’
“ ‘Very likely, Stepán Savélyitch. It would not surprise us if it were they.’
“ ‘If that is so, they had better look out. The idea of doing such a thing as that, the rascals! I wonder if the isprávnik is in town. If he has not returned, he will be here shortly. When he sees their fire, he will send out a company at once. What is to be done? I pity those rascals; their heads will surely pay the price for Saltánof’s. Get the boat ready, boys!’
“Meanwhile we sat by the fire, waiting for the chowder to be ready, for it was a long time since we had tasted any hot food. It was a dark night. Clouds rose seaward. It rained, and the forest moaned; but we were happy. … The dark night is a kind mother to the like of us vagrants. The cloudier the sky, the easier we feel.
“Suddenly one of the Tartars pricked up his ears. Those Tartars are ever on the alert, like cats. I listened also, and distinguished the sound of oars. Going up to the shore, I saw a boat stealthily creeping along under the steep bank. I could see the men who were rowing it, and the faint glimmer of a cockade on the hat of the one at the rudder.
“ ‘Boys, we are lost,’ I said; ‘it’s the isprávnik!’
“The men sprang to their feet, upsetting the kettles, and ran for the woods. … I bade the boys keep together, and wait for the result. Perhaps we might have a chance to get the upper hand if there were but few of them. We hid behind the trees, and waited to see what would come next. The boat landed, and five men stepped on shore. One of them exclaimed, laughing:—
“ ‘Why did you run away, you fools? I know a word that will bring you all out; I must say you are brave fellows, to run like rabbits.’
“Dáryin, who was sitting beside me, under a cedar-tree, whispered:—
“ ‘I say, Vasíli, this is strange! The isprávnik’s voice seems very familiar to me.’
“ ‘Keep still,’ I said; ‘let us see what they will do next. There are only a few of them.’
“One of the oarsmen, stepping out, asked:—
“ ‘Here, don’t be afraid of us! Do you know anyone in this prison?’
“We held our breath and made no reply. ‘What the deuce is the matter with you?’ the same voice called out again. ‘Answer, do you know anyone in this prison? Perhaps you may recognize some of us.’
“I replied: ‘Whether we know each other or not is of no consequence. Perhaps it would be better had we never met, for we are not to be taken alive.’
“I meant this for a signal to my comrades to be ready.
“As to numbers we had the advantage, since there were but five of them; but we feared that as soon as they began to fire, the shots would be heard in town. However, it made no difference; we were determined not to be taken without a struggle.
“Again the old man spoke: ‘Boys,’ he said, ‘is it possible that none of you know Samárof?’
“Dáryin nudged me. ‘Sure enough, it is the superintendent of the N⸺ prison! Your honor,’ he said, ‘do you remember Dáryin?’
“ ‘To be sure,
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