Short Fiction by Aleksandr Kuprin (nonfiction book recommendations .txt) 📕

last to the Treasury. All these places were open only at special times: some from nine to twelve, some from three to five. I was late at all of them, and my position began to appear critical.

“When I used my dinner ticket I had thoughtlessly squandered my ten copecks also. Next day, when I felt the pangs of hunger, I resolved to sell my textbooks. Thick Baron Bego, adapted by Bremiker, bound, I sold for twenty-five copecks; Professor Lobko for twenty; solid General Durop no one would buy.

“For two days I was half starved. On the third day there only remained to me three copecks. I screwed up my courage and went to ask a loan from some of my companions, but they all excused themselves by saying there was a Torricellian vacuum in their pockets, and only one acknowledged having a few roubles, but he never lent money. As he explained, with a gentle smile, ‘ “Loan oft loses both itself and friend,” as Shakespeare says in one of his immortal works.’

“Three copecks! I indulged in tragic reflections. Should I spend them all at once on a box of ten cigarettes, or should I wait until my hunger became unbearable, and then buy bread?

“How wise I was to decide on the latter! Towards evening I was as hungry as Robinson Crusoe on his island, and I went out on to the Nevsky Prospect. Ten times I passed and repassed Philipof’s the baker’s, devouring with my eyes the immense loaves of bread in the windows. Some had yellow crust, some red, and some were strewn with poppy-seed. At last I resolved to go in. Some schoolboys stood there eating hot pies, holding them in scraps of grey greasy paper. I felt a hatred against them for their good fortune.

“ ‘What would you like?’ asked the shopman.

“I put on an indifferent air, and answered superciliously:

“ ‘Cut me off a pound of black bread.⁠ ⁠…’

“I was far from being at my ease while the man skilfully cut the bread with his broad knife. And suddenly I thought to myself: ‘Suppose it’s more than two and a half copecks a pound, what shall I do if the man cuts it overweight? I know it’s possible to owe five or ten roubles in a restaurant, and say to the waiter, “Put it down to my account, please,” but what can one do if one hasn’t enough by one copeck?’

“Hurrah! The bread cost exactly three copecks. I shifted about from one foot to another while it was being wrapped up in paper. As soon as I got out of the shop and felt in my pocket the soft warmth of the bread, I wanted to cry out for joy and begin to munch it, as children do those crusts which they steal from the table after a long day’s romping, to eat as they lie in their beds. And I couldn’t restrain myself. Even in the street I thrust into my mouth two large tasty morsels.

“Yes. I tell you all this in almost a cheerful tone. But I was far from cheerful then. Add to my torture of hunger the stinging shame of failure; the near prospect of being the laughingstock of my regimental companions; the charming amiability of the official on whom depended my cursed ‘dismissal’.⁠ ⁠… I tell you frankly, in those days I was face to face all the time with the thought of suicide.

“Next day my hunger again seemed unbearable. I went along to Alexandra Ivanovna. As soon as Stepan saw me he went into an ecstasy. He cried out, jumped about me, and licked my coat-sleeve. When at length I sat down he placed himself near me on the floor and pressed up against my legs. Alexandra Ivanovna was obliged to send him away by force.

“It was very unpleasant to have to ask a loan from this poor woman, who herself found life so difficult, but I resolved I must do so.

“ ‘Alexandra Ivanovna,’ said I. ‘I’ve nothing to eat. Lend me what money you can, please.’

“She wrung her hands.

“ ‘My dear boy, I haven’t a copeck. Yesterday I pawned my brooch.⁠ ⁠… Today I was able to buy something in the market, but tomorrow I don’t know what I shall do.’

“ ‘Can’t you borrow a little from your sister?’ I suggested.

“Alexandra Ivanovna looked round with a frightened air, and whispered, almost in terror:

“ ‘What are you saying? What! Don’t you know I live here on her charity? No, we’d better think of some other way of getting it.’

“But the more we thought the more difficult it appeared. After a while we became silent. Evening came on, and the room was filled with a heavy wearisome gloom. Despair and hate and hunger tortured me. I felt as if I were abandoned on the edge of the world, alone and humiliated.

“Suddenly something touched my side. I turned. It was Stepan. He held out to me on his palm a little pile of copper money, and said: ‘Teki, teki, teki.⁠ ⁠…’

“I did not understand. Then he threw his money on to my knee, called out once more⁠—teki⁠—and ran off into his corner.

“Well, why should I hide it? I wept like a child; sobbed out, long and loudly. Alexandra Ivanovna wept also, out of pity and tenderness, and from his far corner Stepan uttered his pitiful, unmeaning cry of oorli, oorli, oorli.

“When I became quieter I felt better. The unexpected sympathy of the idiot boy had suddenly warmed and soothed my heart, and shown me that it is possible to live, and that one ought to live, as long as there is love and compassion in the world.”

“That is why,” concluded Zimina, finishing his story, “that is why I pity all these unfortunates, and why I can’t deny that they are human beings.” Yes, and by the way, his sympathy brought me happiness. Now I’m very glad I didn’t become a “moment”⁠—that’s our nickname for the officers of the General Staff. Since that time I