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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“ ‘Of course there is,’ I answered.
“ ‘How sincerely you spoke. There must be, of course … there is. … But where? Excuse me, I don’t want to catch you. … You don’t know yourself. You looked once and stopped. That’s why I’ll only ask you for two grivens. Sometimes I may be sitting by a fire. … You’re a man with a soul. … Another time, perhaps, I’ll be able to get more out of you. …’
“ ‘Listen here,’ I said to him. ‘Think now, can I really help you in any way?’ I felt that there was something to him. … He was rather touched, was not insolent. … He became thoughtful and dropped his head.
“ ‘No,’ he replied, ‘it can’t be done. You’re not to blame, friend. Because … I, and everyone like me, is very greedy. Like swine we wallow in the mire, and we want anyone who helps us to be whiter than snow. … You need a lot of strength, friend. You haven’t enough. … A storm is necessary. … To breathe fire. … There are miracles. … But you. … You’re not angry at me? …’
“ ‘Angry? Why?’
“We both stopped talking. I had nothing to say to him, he began again to walk around, but he gradually recovered his former manner. He came and sat down and he showed his brandy. The next Saturday he came in the same condition and sat down beside me on the steps. Just then the bell rang for vespers. In a short time M. Budnikov came out of the gate. Dandy, you know how he is, stubborn as ever, perfectly self-satisfied. … He breathes forth the consciousness of duty well done.
“I remember what an unpleasant effect he produced upon me. Rogov’s face suddenly changed. He jumped up, adopted a theatrical pose, took off his cap, and said:
“ ‘To M. Budnikov, Semen Nikolayevich, on his way to vespers is extended the most respectful greeting of Vanka Rogov.
“Then with a sweeping wave of his cap, he began to sing—from a well-known romance:
“ ‘I can n-no l-longer pay at all. …
Remem-mber me, m-my friend beloved. …’
“This buffoonery was too much. … I felt that I disliked Budnikov, but yet. … He was insulting a man on a point which from every angle and in any case should have won his respect. Yelena soon came out of the gate and also started for church. He sang to me:
“ ‘Ophelia! Nymph! Remember me
In those most sacred prayers of thine.’
“This made me really angry. Yelena quailed before the impudent stare and insolent, even if unintelligible words. She dropped her head and quickly walked to church.
“ ‘Listen, Rogov,’ I said. ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself! I must tell you … if you want to come here, I humbly beg you to act more decently. …’
“He turned and I saw in his eyes a peculiar expression—of evil pain. He felt like biting me. …
“I tried to soften the bitterness of my words and said:
“ ‘Rogov, you don’t know these people, nor their relations, and yet you venture to insult them. …’
“He smiled at me and replied:
“ ‘You’re thinking of the idyl? The kindly M. Budnikov made two hearts happy. Why, here’s Gavryushenka.’
“In truth, Gavrilo had just come out of the gate. Rogov beckoned to him rather hostilely. …
“ ‘I congratulate you, Gavryushenka, … on your master’s leavings. … Wise fellow! You knew where the crabs winter. … In case of necessity, you may depend upon my legal knowledge. …’
“Surprising how these cynics find things out. Evidently Rogov knew the whole story and suspected Gavrilo of having mercenary motives. …
“He walked up and patted him on the shoulder. … Gavrilo got angry and pushed Rogov away violently. Rogov almost fell down, laughed, and, with pretended indifference, started along the path. He came up to me, stopped and said:
“ ‘Most esteemed Pavel Semenovich. … I want to ask you a question: haven’t you read … it’s in Xenophon … the conversation between Alcibiades and Pericles? … If you haven’t, I recommend it most highly. Although it’s in a dead language, it’s instructive.’
“He went off singing an indecent song. A little while after I hunted up this dialogue. I wondered what he meant. …
“You know it’s a hard but a powerful piece. The subject’s about like this: Young Alcibiades went one day to Pericles. … Remember, Pericles was already a famous man and enjoyed the confidence of everyone … because of past services and a certain air of benevolence. … Anyway his position was secure. Alcibiades was a rascal, worthless, drunkard, in all sorts of scandals with Athenian girls, cut off dogs’ tails, as you know … A man of no reputation for well-doing. Well, one day, this rogue of a young fellow went up to Pericles and said: ‘Listen, Pericles, you’re a man chock full of benefactions clear to the top of your head, you may say. I’m wandering off the road and twisting up everything, for I have nothing to do. Everyone’s angry at me. I want you to explain everything to me.’ Pericles, of course, was willing and thought it was a good idea to talk to the young man. He might bring him to his senses. So he said: ‘Go ahead and ask what you want.’ Then came the question: ‘What is doing well? How do you learn it?’ Pericles, of course, laughed: ‘Honor the gods, obey the laws, and do your duty. To obey the laws is the first duty of a citizen and a man.’ ‘Fine,’ answered the young fellow. ‘Tell me, please, which laws am I to obey: the bad or the good ones?’ Pericles was almost insulted. ‘If a law’s a law, it’s good. What are you talking about?’ ‘No,’ said Alcibiades, ‘wait and don’t get angry.’ … You know at this time in Athens all these principles were
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