Short Fiction by Leonid Andreyev (fastest ebook reader TXT) 📕
Description
Leonid Andreyev was a Russian playwright and author of short stories and novellas, writing primarily in the first two decades of the 20th century. Matching the depression he suffered from an early age, his writing is always dark of tone with subjects including biblical parables, Russian life, eldritch horror and revolutionary fervour. H. P. Lovecraft was a reader of his work, and The Seven Who Were Hanged (included here) has even been cited as direct inspiration for the assassination of Arch-Duke Ferdinand: the event that started the first World War. Originally a lawyer, his first published short story brought him to the attention of Maxim Gorky who not only became a firm friend but also championed Andreyev’s writing in his collections to great commercial acclaim.
Widely translated into English during his life, this collection comprises the best individual translations of each of his short stories and novellas available in the public domain, presented in chronological order of their original publication in Russian.
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- Author: Leonid Andreyev
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“Haggart! You have pardoned him, Haggart?”
Some of the people look at the body; those standing near it step aside. Haggart asks, surprised:
“Whose voice is that? Is that yours, Mariet? How strange! I did not recognise your voice.”
“You have pardoned him, Haggart?”
“You have heard—the rope broke—”
“Tell me, did you pardon the murderer? I want to hear your voice, Haggart.”
A threatening voice is heard from among the crowd:
“The rope broke. Who is talking there? The rope broke.”
“Silence!” exclaims Haggart, but there is no longer the same commanding tone in his voice. “Take them all away! Boatswain! Whistle for everybody to go aboard. The time is up! Flerio! Get the boats ready.”
“Yes, yes.”
Khorre whistles. The sailors disperse unwillingly, and the same threatening voice sounds somewhere from the darkness:
“I thought at first it was the dead man who started to speak. But I would have answered him too: ‘Lie there! The rope broke.’ ”
Another voice replies:
“Don’t grumble. Khorre has stronger defenders than you are.”
“What are you prating about, devils?” says Khorre. “Silence! Is that you, Tommy? I know you, you are always the mischief-maker—”
“Come on, Mariet!” says Haggart. “Give me little Noni, I want to carry him to the boat myself. Come on, Mariet.”
“Where, Haggart?”
“Eh, Mariet! The dreams are ended. I don’t like your voice, woman—when did you find time to change it? What a land of jugglers! I have never seen such a land before!”
“Eh, Haggart! The dreams are ended. I don’t like your voice, either—little Haggart! But it may be that I am still sleeping—then wake me. Haggart, swear that it was you who said it: ‘The rope broke.’ Swear that my eyes have not grown blind and that they see Khorre alive. Swear that this is your hand, Haggart!”
Silence. The voice of the sea is growing louder—there is the splash and the call and the promise of a stern caress.
“I swear.”
Silence. Khorre and Flerio come up to Haggart.
“All’s ready, Captain,” says Flerio.
“They are waiting, Noni. Go quicker! They want to feast tonight, Noni! But I must tell you, Noni, that they—”
Haggart—Did you say something, Flerio? Yes, yes, everything is ready. I am coming. I think I am not quite through yet with land. This is such a remarkable land, Flerio; the dreams here drive their claws into a man like thorns, and they hold him. One has to tear his clothing, and perhaps his body as well. What did you say, Mariet?
Mariet—Don’t you want to kiss little Noni? You shall never kiss him again.
“No, I don’t want to.”
Silence.
“You will go alone.”
“Yes, I will go alone.”
“Did you ever cry, Haggart?”
“No.”
“Who is crying now? I hear someone crying bitterly.”
“That is not true—it is the roaring of the sea.”
“Oh, Haggart! Of what great sorrow does that voice speak?”
“Be silent, Mariet. It is the roaring of the sea.”
Silence.
“Is everything ended now, Haggart?”
“Everything is ended, Mariet.”
Mariet, imploring, says:
“Gart! Only one motion of the hand! Right here—against the heart—Gart!”
“No. Leave me alone.”
“Only one motion of the hand! Here is your knife. Have pity on me, kill me with your hand. Only one motion of your hand, Gart!”
“Let go. Give me my knife.”
“Gart, I bless you! One motion of your hand, Gart!”
Haggart tears himself away, pushing the woman aside:
“No! Don’t you know that it is just as hard to make one motion of the hand as it is for the sun to come down from the sky? Goodbye, Mariet!”
“You are going away?”
“Yes, I am going away. I am going away, Mariet. That’s how it sounds.”
“I shall curse you, Haggart. Do you know! I shall curse you, Haggart. And little Noni will curse you, Haggart—Haggart!”
Haggart exclaims cheerfully and harshly:
“Eh, Khorre. You, Flerio, my old friend. Come here, give me your hand—Oh, what a powerful hand it is! Why do you pull me by the sleeve, Khorre? You have such a funny face. I can almost see how the rope snapped, and you came down like a sack. Flerio, old friend, I feel like saying something funny, but I have forgotten how to say it. How do they say it? Remind me, Flerio. What do you want, sailor?”
Khorre whispers to him hoarsely:
“Noni, be on your guard. The rope broke because they used a rotten rope intentionally. They are betraying you! Be on your guard, Noni. Strike them on the head, Noni.”
Haggart bursts out laughing.
“Now you have said something funny. And I? Listen, Flerio, old friend. This woman who stands and looks—No, that will not be funny!”
He advances a step.
“Khorre, do you remember how well this man prayed? Why was he killed? He prayed so well. But there is one prayer he did not know—this one—‘To you I bring my great eternal sorrow; I am going to you, Father Ocean!’ ”
And a distant voice, sad and grave, replies:
“Oh, Haggart, my dear Haggart.”
But who knows—perhaps it was the roaring of the waves. Many sad and strange dreams come to man on earth.
“All aboard!” exclaims Haggart cheerily, and goes off without looking around. Below, a gay noise of voices and laughter resounds. The cobblestones are rattling under the firm footsteps—Haggart is going away.
“Haggart!”
He goes, without turning around.
“Haggart!”
He has gone away.
Loud shouting is heard—the sailors are greeting Haggart. They drink and go off into the darkness. On the shore, the torches which were cast aside are burning low, illumining the body, and a woman is rushing about. She runs swiftly from one spot to another, bending down over the steep rocks. Insane Dan comes crawling out.
“Is that you, Dan? Do you hear, they are singing, Dan? Haggart has gone away.”
“I was waiting for them to go. Here is another one. I am gathering the pipes of my organ. Here is another one.”
“Be accursed, Dan!”
“Oho? And you, too, Mariet, be accursed!”
Mariet clasps the child in her arms and lifts him high. Then she calls wildly:
“Haggart, turn around! Turn around, Haggart! Noni is calling you. He wants to curse you, Haggart. Turn around! Look, Noni, look—that is your father. Remember him,
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