Short Fiction by Vladimir Korolenko (ready player one ebook TXT) 📕

at the softened vagrant. But suddenly the latter rose from the bench and resumed his former air of indifference.

“That will do!” he said, firmly; “I shall tell nothing more!⁠ ⁠… Enough!⁠ ⁠… You have put down all that about Kostiúshka, haven’t you? It serves him right, and perhaps it will teach him better than to be such a brute in the future! You may as well order them to take me away, Your Excellency, for I shall say nothing more.”

“Listen, ‘Iván, aged thirty-eight,’ ” said the examiner, “I deem it my duty to inform you that the fuller your confession, the more leniency you may expect from the hands of justice. You cannot save your mates.”

The vagrant shrugged his shoulders.

“That is not my lookout. It is all the same to me.”

Evidently, there was no hope of obtaining any further information from him, and he was removed from the room.

IX The Investigation Continued

It still remained to examine the witnesses.

The priest was expected, to administer the oath, and meanwhile they huddled together at the inner wall. The gray crowd, with sombre faces, stood shuffling their feet, in dead silence. Yevséyitch stood in front. His face was red, his lips drawn tightly together, his forehead wrinkled, and, as he gazed gloomily from under his brows, his eyes rested alternately on Bezrýlof and the examiner. It was evident enough that between this crowd and Yevséyitch a decision had been reached.

Bezrýlof sat on the bench, with his legs spread apart, snapping his fingers. While the peasants were entering and taking their places, he gazed at them attentively and thoughtfully; then, after giving them one cold, disdainful glance, he turned to Proskuróf, nodded, and, with an almost imperceptible smile, exclaimed:

“By the way, Afanásy Ivánovitch, I almost forgot to congratulate you!⁠ ⁠… I have a pleasing bit of news.⁠ ⁠… Excuse me!⁠ ⁠… With all this business⁠ ⁠… it actually slipped my mind.⁠ ⁠…”

“On what subject?” inquired Proskuróf, still reading over the deposition.

Bezrýlof was beaming. “Can it be possible that you have not heard, and am I to be the first to impart this agreeable intelligence!⁠ ⁠… I am very, very glad!⁠ ⁠…”

The examiner raised his eyes and gazed at the inspector, who thereupon came up to him, clanking his spurs, and smiling in a way meant to be irresistible. “You are temporarily appointed to the place of Treasurer of the City of N⁠⸺⁠ ⁠… Of course, this is merely a form, and there can be no doubt but that your appointment will be confirmed. I congratulate you, my dear fellow,” continued Bezrýlof, in his most cordial and flattering voice, seizing Proskurófs hand; “I congratulate you with all my heart.”

But Proskuróf failed to appreciate these friendly congratulations. Quickly withdrawing his hand, he sprang from his seat.

“Wait, my dear sir, wait!” he hastily exclaimed, almost stuttering as he spoke. “This is no place for joking!⁠ ⁠… no place whatever!⁠ ⁠… , Perhaps you think that I do not see through your policy?⁠ ⁠… You are mistaken, my dear sir! I am no calf!⁠ ⁠… no, sir!⁠ ⁠… no calf!⁠ ⁠…”⁠—“God bless you, Afanásy Ivánovitch! what is the matter?” exclaimed Bezrýlof, in surprise, and, with a deprecatory wave of his hand, he glanced round the room, as if summoning those present to contemplate Proskuróf’s ingratitude. “Do you think I should dare to joke on such a subject⁠ ⁠… an official appointment!⁠ ⁠… I read it myself⁠ ⁠… I assure you!⁠ ⁠… And, I must say, a very desirable position it is,” he continued, changing his tone, and again assuming one of easy familiarity. “You will have no more trouble with unpleasant cases of this kind, while we, luckless mortals that we are, must finish this one without your assistance. I am sorry, of course!⁠ ⁠… Still, I am delighted for your sake! It’s an easy, comfortable office⁠ ⁠… ha-ha-ha!⁠ ⁠… One that exactly⁠ ⁠… ha-ha-ha!⁠ ⁠… suits your temperament.⁠ ⁠… And, moreover, you are likely to receive⁠ ⁠… from the merchants⁠ ⁠… ha-ha-ha!⁠ ⁠… substantial tokens of gratitude.⁠ ⁠…”

Bezrýlof seemed to have abandoned all reserve, and his stout person was convulsed by excessive laughter. Proskuróf stood before him motionless, grasping the table with both hands. His face, which wore an expression of mingled grief and astonishment, lengthened visibly, and grew fairly livid.

Alas, for him! At that moment, he really made one think⁠ ⁠… of a calf.

I glanced at the peasants. They were craning their necks; only Yevséyitch bent his head, as he had the habit of doing, and listened attentively, without losing a syllable. As I felt no further interest in the examination, I went out into the entry, where, on a bench in the corner, sat the prisoner. At a short distance from him stood several of the peasant watchers. As I drew near, and seated myself beside him, he looked up and made room for me.

“Tell me,” I said, “is it true that you really felt no enmity against the deceased Mikháïlof?”

He raised his calm blue eyes.

“What did you say!” he asked. “How could I have felt enmity, when I never saw him before!”

“Why did you kill him, then? Surely, it could not have been for the fifty rubles that were found on your person?”⁠—“No, of course not,”⁠ ⁠… he replied thoughtfully. “As we live, even ten times that sum hardly lasts a week. I simply wanted to know⁠ ⁠… if it was a possible thing that a knife-blade could have no effect.”

“You don’t mean to say that you have killed a man and made a wreck of your own life out of mere curiosity!”

He looked at me with surprise.

“Life, did you say?⁠ ⁠… My own life, you mean?⁠ ⁠… What is that? Today it happens that I have killed Mikháïlitch, but, if things had turned out differently, he might have put an end to me.⁠ ⁠…”

“Oh, no, he would never have killed you!”

“Yes, I think you are right; had he killed me, he would have been alive today.”

The vagrant gave me a look in which animosity was plainly to be seen.

“Go away! What do you want?” he said; and then added, letting fall his head, “Such is my lot!⁠ ⁠…”

“What is your lot?”

“Such as it is⁠ ⁠… prison life ever since I