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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“Uncle, hey, uncle,” said Andrey Ivanovich to the second peasant, “won’t you take us along?”
The peasant rubbed his sleepy eyes and looked with amazement at the crowd which had surrounded him.
“Where did God bring you from?”
“A pilgrimage.”
“So, so! Sit down, but I can’t take you far; we’re from around here.”
“You’re not from the mill?”
“They were at the mill, but I’m empty. Sit down; that’s right.”
We got into the cart and sat down, letting our feet hang.
“Let me ask you a question,” said our guide, clucking to his horse; “have you been walking all night?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t hear anything, did you?”
“Some dogs barking in the distance. Why?”
“Why? Someone opened the sluices in the mill and almost smashed the wheels.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know! Someone got fooling around at night. In our little village near by, they say, the fellow asked to be taken in. A peasant looked out, but he said: ‘I’m the devil, let me in.’ ”
“He was,” said Avtonomov, who had discarded his decorations some time before.
“He wasn’t. … I’ll never believe it. … And I won’t let you either.” Andrey Ivanovich spoke ardently and decidedly to the peasant. “Some rascals have been deceiving you country people. … Your simplicity. …”
“There are people who do not believe in God and the Saints,” said Avtonomov, with the greatest humility and composure.
Andrey Ivanovich gritted his teeth and showed Avtonomov his fist, when the peasant was not looking.
VIIIAbout noon we reached my home in the same kind of a cart. This we had happened to meet at the edge of the city. The cart stopped at the gate. Our picturesque company attracted the attention of several passersby, a thing that clearly annoyed Andrey Ivanovich. … I asked my companion to come in and rest and have some tea.
“Thanks, I haven’t far to go,” answered the bootmaker coldly. He threw his wallet on his back and, then, without ceremony, he pointed at Avtonomov.
“Are you inviting him in?”
“Yes, I’m inviting Gennady Sergeyevich,” I answered.
Andrey Ivanovich turned sharply and, without saying goodbye, he started down the street.
Ivan Ivanovich looked desperately frightened, as if my invitation had caught him in a trap. He looked appealingly at Avtonomov, and shame at being present tortured his whole figure. Avtonomov asked simply:
“Where are we going?”
While the samovar was being heated, I asked the servants to gather up some superfluous clothes and linen and offered my companions a change of attire. Avtonomov at once consented, tied them all in one bundle and said:
“We’ve got to have a bath. …”
Of course, I did not object. Both wanderers came back from the bath transformed. Ivan Ivanovich, in a coat which was too broad and trousers which were too long and with his thin hair, looked astonishingly like a woman in man’s clothes. As far as Avtonomov was concerned, he was not satisfied with the conventional amount of clothing, but he had put on everything which had been given him to choose from. He was wearing, consequently, a blue shirt, a blouse, two vests, and a coat. The shirt stuck up above the collar of the blouse and reached below it—it was so much longer. The edge of the blouse was visible and the coat seemed to form a third layer. … At the tea table Ivan Ivanovich was so miserable that we let him take his cup into the kitchen, where he sat down in one corner and immediately won the sympathy of our cook.
Avtonomov acted recklessly, called my mother signora and jumped up every minute in order to serve something.
After tea he looked himself over from head to foot and said, with an air of satisfaction:
“In this costume my brother-in-law won’t be ashamed of me. … I’ll go see my sister. … She lives near here. May I leave my wallet in your hall, signora?”
When he went to the gate, Ivan Ivanovich ran after him in terror. After a short conversation Avtonomov permitted the poor fellow to follow him at some distance.
Ivan Ivanovich soon returned alone. His birdlike face beamed with surprise and delight.
“They received him,” he said, clearing his throat joyfully. “That’s the solemn truth. He really has a sister. And a brother-in-law. … Please go past, accidentally. … You’ll see it, too. … As God is true, they’re sitting in a garden entertaining him … like a brother. His sister’s weeping from joy. …”
From the breast of the little wanderer came strange sounds like hysterical laughing and weeping.
In an hour Avtonomov appeared, transfigured and triumphant. He came up to me, fervently grasped my hand, and pressed it till it hurt.
“Through you I’ve found my relatives. … Yes. … That’s it! Till death. …”
He pressed my hand still harder, then convulsively released it and turned away. Apparently the brother-in-law, who was not without influence in the consistory, believed in Avtonomov’s reformation and decided to help him. It was also necessary to get certain papers from Uglich and. …
“Back here again! My wanderings are ended, signor. … I won’t forsake you, Vanya. … I’ll give you a corner and food. … Live. … I’ll be responsible. … You’ll get quarters … also. …”
As I listened to this conversation, involuntary doubts crept into my mind, the more so as Avtonomov had resumed his grandiloquent manner and kept using more and more frequently the word signor. …
Towards evening the two set out “for Uglich to get the papers.” Avtonomov gave me a solemn promise to return in a week “to begin his new life.”
“Is this all that was necessary for this ‘miracle?’ ” I thought doubtfully. …
IXThe weather suddenly changed. … A wonderful early spring seemed to be replaced by late, cold autumn. … It rained hard for days and the wind howled amid the rain and the fog.
One cold morning of this kind I awoke late and was trying to guess the time when I heard a light noise and a strange whistle
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