Short Fiction Vladimir Korolenko (best motivational novels .TXT) 📖

No light shone behind it. Probably the old woman and her daughter had no fuel and nothing to cook for supper.

The miller paused a moment, then knocked twice at the window and went a few steps aside.

He had not long to wait before two plump girlish arms were wound tightly around his neck, and something glowed among his whiskers that felt very much like two lips pressed to his mouth. Hey ho, what more is there to tell! If you have ever been kissed like that you know yourself how it feels. If you haven’t, it’s no use trying to tell you.

“Oh, Philipko, my darling for whom I have longed!” crooned the girl. “You have come, you have come! And I have been waiting so wearily for you. I thought I should parch up with longing, like grass without water.”

“Eh hey, she hasn’t parched up, though, thank God!” thought the miller, as he pressed the girl’s not emaciated form to his breast. “Thank God, she is all right yet!”

“And when shall we have the wedding, Philip?” asked the girl with her hands still lying on Philip’s shoulders, while she devoured him with burning eyes as dark as an autumn night. “Saint Philip’s day will soon be here.”

This speech was less to the miller’s liking than the girl’s kisses.

“So that’s what she’s driving at!” thought he. “Ah, Philip, Philip, now you’re going to catch it!”

But he summoned all the courage he had, and, turning his eyes away, answered:

“What a hurry you’re in, Galya, I declare! Thinking about the wedding already, are you? How can we get married when I am a miller and may soon be the richest man in the village, and you are only a poor widow’s daughter?”

The girl staggered back at these words as if a snake had bitten her. She jumped away from Philip and laid her hand on her heart.

“But I thought⁠—oh, my poor head⁠—then why did you knock at the window, you wicked man?”

“Eh hey!” answered the miller. “You ask why I knocked. Why shouldn’t I knock when your mother owes me money? And then you come jumping out and begin to kiss me. What can I do? I know how to kiss as well as any man⁠—”

And he stretched out his hand toward her again, but the moment he touched the girl’s body she started as if an insect had stung her.

“Get away!” she screamed, so angrily that the miller fell back a step. “I’m not a rouble bill that you can lay your hands on as if I belonged to you. If you come back again I’ll warm you up so that you’ll forget how to make love for three years.”

The miller was taken aback.

“What a little firebrand it is! Do you think I’m a Jew that you howl at me so hatefully?”

“If you’re not a Jew, then what are you? You charge half a rouble for every rouble you lend, and then you come to me for interest besides! Get away, I tell you, you horrid brute!”

“Well, my girl!” said the miller, nervously covering his face with his hand as if she had really hit him with her fist. “I see it’s no use for a sensible man to talk to you. Go and send your mother to me.”

But the old woman had already come out of the hut, and was making a low curtsey to the miller. Philip enjoyed this more than he had the words of the girl. He stuck his arms akimbo, and the head of his black shadow rubbed so hard against the wall that he wondered his hat didn’t come off.

“Do you know what I’ve come for, old woman?” he asked.

“Oh, how should I not know, poor wretch that I am! You have come for my money.”

“Ha, ha, not your money, old woman!” the miller laughed. “I’m not a robber; I don’t come at night and take money that isn’t mine.”

“Yes, you have come for money that isn’t yours!” retorted Galya, angrily falling upon the miller. “You have come for it!”

“Crazy girl!” exclaimed the miller, stepping back. “Upon my word there isn’t another girl in the whole village as crazy as you are. And not in the village alone, in the whole District. Just think a minute what you have said! If it weren’t for your mother, who probably wouldn’t testify against you, I’d have you up in court before Christmas for cheating me. Come, think a little what you’re doing, girl!”

“Why need I think when I’m doing right?”

“How can it be right for the old woman to borrow money from me and not pay?”

“You lie! You lie like a dog! You came courting me when you were still a workman at the mill; you came to our khata and never said a word about wanting anything in return. And then, when your uncle died and you came to be a miller yourself, you collected the whole debt, and now even that won’t satisfy you!”

“And the flour?”

“Well, what about the flour? How much do you ask for it?”

“Sixty copecks a pood, not less! No one would let you have it cheaper than that, no, not if you threw your precious self in with it into the bargain.”

“And how much have you already collected from us?”

“Tut, tut, how she does talk! You’ve a tongue in your head as bad as Kharko’s, girl. I’ll answer that by asking you for the interest. Have you paid it?”

But Galya was silent. It is often that way with girls. They talk and talk and rattle along like a mill with all its stones grinding, and then they suddenly stop dead. You’d think they had run short of water. That’s how Galya did. She burst into a flood of bitter tears, and went away wiping her eyes on the wide sleeve of her blouse.

“There now!” said the miller, a little confused but satisfied in his heart. “That’s what comes of attacking people. If you