Short Fiction by Leo Tolstoy (book reader for pc TXT) 📕

to insult. The more anyone insulted him the more he loved the offender. They abused him, and he praised them. They hit him and he helped them. Uncle said that anybody who acts so feels very happy. I liked what he said, and I wanted to be like that man. So, when Grisha hit me yesterday, I remembered my wish and kissed Grisha. He burst out crying. I felt very happy. But with nurse yesterday it was different; she began scolding me, and I quite forgot how I ought to have behaved, and I answered her very rudely. What I wish now is to have the same experience over again that I had with Grisha. Masha Then you would like somebody to strike you? Vania I would like it awfully. I would immediately do what I did to Grisha, and I would be so glad. Masha How stupid! Just like the fool you’ve always been. Vania I don’t mind being a fool. I only know now what to do, so as to feel happy all the time. Masha A regular fool! Do you really feel happy, doing so? Vania Just awfully happy! On the Press

The schoolroom at home.

Volodia, a schoolboy of fourteen, is reading; Sonia, a girl of fifteen, is writing. The Yard-Porter enters, carrying a heavy load on his back; Misha, a boy of eight, following him. Porter Where am I to put that bundle, sir? My shoulders are bent down with the weight of it. Volodia Where were you told to put it? Porter Vasily Timofeëvich told me to carry it to the schoolroom and leave it for him. Volodia Then put it in the corner. Porter unloads the bundle and sighs heavily. Sonia What is it? Volodia Truth⁠—a paper. Misha Truth? What do you mean? Sonia Why have you so many? Volodia It is a collection of the whole year’s issues. Continues reading. Misha Has all this been written? Porter The fellows who wrote it weren’t very lazy, I’ll bet. Volodia Laughs. What did you say? Porter I said what I meant. It wasn’t a lazy lot that wrote all that. Well, I’m going. Will you kindly say I have brought the bundle. Exit. Sonia To Volodia. What does father want all those papers for? Volodia He wants to collect Bolchakov’s articles from them. Sonia And Uncle Michael Ivanovich says reading Bolchakov makes him ill. Volodia Just like Uncle Michael Ivanovich. He only reads Truth for All. Misha And is uncle’s Truth as big as this? Sonia Bigger. But this is only for one year, and the papers have been published twenty years or more. Misha That makes twenty such bundles and another twenty more. Sonia Wishing to mystify Misha. That’s nothing. These are only two papers, and besides there are at least thirty more. Volodia Without raising his head. Thirty, you say! There are five hundred and thirty in Russia alone. And with those published abroad there are thousands altogether. Misha They couldn’t all be put into this room. Volodia Not even in this whole street. But please don’t disturb me in my work. Tomorrow teacher is sure to call upon me, and you don’t give me a chance of learning my lessons with your silly talk. Resumes his reading. Misha I don’t think there’s any use writing so much. Sonia Why not? Misha Because if what they write is true, then why say the same thing over and over again? If it isn’t, then why say what is not true? Sonia An excellent judgment! Misha Why do they write such an awful lot? Volodia Without taking his eyes off his book. Because if it wasn’t for the freedom of the press, how would people know what the truth is? Misha Father says the Truth contains the truth, and Uncle Michael Ivanovich says Truth makes him ill. Then how do they know where the truth really is⁠—in Truth or in Truth for All? Sonia I think you are right. There are really too many papers and magazines and books. Volodia Just like a woman: perfectly senseless in every conclusion! Sonia I only mean that when there is so much written it is impossible to know anything really. Volodia But everybody has brains given him to find out where the truth is. Misha Then if everybody has got brains he can reason things out for himself. Volodia So that’s how you reason with your large supply of brains! Please go somewhere else and leave me alone to work. On Repentance

Volia, a boy of eight, stands in the passage with an empty plate and cries. Fedia, a boy of ten, comes running into the passage.

Fedia Mother sent me to see where you were; but what are you crying for? Have you brought nurse⁠ ⁠… Sees the empty plate, and whistles. Where is the cake? Volia I⁠—I⁠—I wanted it, I⁠—and then suddenly⁠—Boo-hoo-hoo! All of a sudden I ate it up⁠—without meaning to. Fedia Instead of taking it to nurse, you have eaten it yourself on the way! Well I never! Mother thought you wanted nurse to have the cake. Volia I did and then suddenly, without meaning to.⁠—Boo-hoo-hoo! Fedia You just tasted it, and then you ate the whole of it. Well, I never! Laughs. Volia It is all very well for you to laugh, but how am I going to tell.⁠ ⁠… Now I can’t go to nurse⁠—or to mother either. Fedia A nice mess you have made of it, I must say. Ha, ha! So you have eaten the whole cake? It is no use crying. Just try to think of some way of getting out of it. Volia I can’t see how I can. What shall I do? Fedia Fancy that! Trying to restrain himself from laughing. A pause. Volia What am I to do now? I am lost. Howls. Fedia Don’t you care. Stop that howling. Simply go to mother and tell her you have eaten the cake yourself. Volia That is worse. Fedia Then go and confess to nurse. Volia How can I? Fedia Listen; you wait here. I will find nurse and tell her.