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

myself a little and to smoke my pipe; then I will go, for I have friends here who are glad to see me at any time. They live two miles away.”

His tones were reserved, like those of a man who was evidently unwilling to appear intrusive. Again he gave me a quick and scrutinizing glance, as though awaiting my reply in order to form a plan of action in accordance therewith. “I will treat you as you treat me,” his cool and steady glances seemed to say. At all events, the manners of my guest formed a pleasing contrast to the ordinary importunity of the Yakút settlers; though, evidently, had he not calculated on spending the night with me, he would not have led his horse into the yard, but would have fastened him to the fence outside.

“Who are you? What is your name?” I asked.

“My name? I am called Bagyláï. In Russian my name is Vasíli. Perhaps you may have heard about me? I live in the Bayangatáï District.”

“A native of the Urál? A vagrant?”

An imperceptible smile of satisfaction flitted across the lips of the stranger.

“So you have heard about me?”

“N. has spoken to me of you. You were neighbors.”

“Precisely! Mr. N. knows me well.”

“I am happy to welcome you! You will spend the night with me, will you not? I am all alone, and we will start the samovar.”

The vagrant eagerly accepted my invitation.

“Thank you, sir! Since you ask me, I will stay. But I must take off my bags from the saddle, and bring them in;⁠—my horse is fastened in the yard; still, it would be safer. The people in your settlement are sharpers, especially the Tartars.”

He went out, and a moment after returned, bringing in the two saddlebags. Unfastening the straps, he took out the provisions which he carried with him; pats of frozen milk and butter, several dozens of eggs, etc. The eggs he put on my shelves; and the rest he carried out into the entry, so that they would not melt. Then he took off his shawl, his fur coat, and his caftán, keeping on only his Turkey-red shirt and velveteen trousers, and seated himself before the fireplace.

“Well, sir,” he said, looking up and smiling, “I may as well tell you the truth; as I was nearing your gate, I thought to myself, ‘I wonder if the owner will allow me to spend the night with him?’ Of course, I understand very well that there are all sorts of characters among us, some of whom it would be impossible to ask to stay over night; but I am not of that class, I tell you frankly. Did you say that you had heard about me?”

“I have.”

“Well, I am glad of it. I can say without boasting that I make an honest living. I own a cow, a three-year-old ox, and a horse.⁠ ⁠… I cultivate my land, and have a vegetable-garden besides.”

The vagrant said all this in a constrained voice, his eyes fixed on one spot, gesticulating as he spoke, as though he were wondering at himself. His manner seemed to asseverate, “All that I tell you is true.”

“Yes,” he went on, in the same tone of voice, “I work, as God wishes us to do. I consider it better than stealing or highway robbery.⁠ ⁠… As I ride along the road, I see a fire, and I stop at your house.⁠ ⁠… You start the samovar and entertain me. I cannot fail to appreciate all this. Do I not speak the truth?”

“Certainly,” I replied.

While making these statements, the vagrant appeared to be soliloquizing, as if trying to convince himself of the advantages of his present life.

I had heard about Vasíli from my friends. Formerly a vagrant, he had later become a settler, and now for two years had been living in his own house, in the midst of a forest, near a lake, in one of the great Yakút districts. Among the reckless and Godforsaken crowd of settlers, who live from hand to mouth, often stealing and plundering, he was one of the few who preferred to labor, a mode of life which here offered an easy chance to improve one’s condition. Generally speaking, the Yakút are a very good-natured people, and in many districts it is customary to offer the newly arrived settlers substantial help.

Were it not for such help, a man whom circumstances have placed in the rigorous and to him unknown conditions of this country would either soon perish of cold and hunger or take to highway robbery. In a general way such help was more willingly given in the form of “travelling expenses,” by means of which the Yakút commune often endeavors to rid itself of a settler, sending him away to the mines, whence the majority of these uncomfortable citizens never return; yet in most cases where a man shows a willingness to work in good earnest, help is freely proffered. The commune gave Vasíli a hut and an ox, and the first year planted for him six poods6 of wheat.

The harvest was good; and, in addition to this, he hired himself out advantageously to the Yakút as a mower, and also traded in tobacco⁠—so that in two years his affairs were flourishing. The Yakút treated him with deference, the settlers called him “Vasíli Ivánitch” to his face, modifying it to “Vaska” only behind his back. The priests, on their way to visit their parishioners, liked to stop at his house, and, whenever he chanced to call upon them, invited him to take a seat at their table. He was also acquainted with some of the educated class whose lot had been cast in this distant country. It did seem now as though he could live well. Marriage alone remained to be accomplished. Of course, this might be a more difficult task, as vagrants are usually forbidden to marry; but even this could be arranged for a small sum of money, a calf, or a