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

the more I pondered, the less I believed, until my former faith was shaken, if not lost, and I found no new one to take its place. It is true I am an ignorant man⁠—I hardly know how to read⁠—and I dared not trust too much to my own reason,⁠ ⁠… and I felt so heartsick, so sad, I would gladly have gone out of this world.⁠ ⁠… I gave up my hut and what little land was left me, all that I possessed, took an extra sheepskin coat, a pair of trousers, and a pair of boots, broke off a branch in the forest for a staff, and started.⁠ ⁠…”

“Where were you going?”

“Nowhere in particular. Sometimes I stayed in one place, and worked regularly day after day; then, again, I would wander from place to place, ploughing a field here and there, or lending a hand at harvest-time. In some places I stayed but for a day, or perhaps for a week, in others, for a month; and all this time I was watching to see how people lived, how they prayed and what they believed.⁠ ⁠… In a word, I was looking for upright people.”

“And did you find them?”

“How can I tell?⁠ ⁠… There are all kinds of people; and each one has his own troubles, of course. Still, it must be admitted that people in our neighborhood devote but little thought to God.⁠ ⁠… Each one thinks only about himself, how to satisfy his own desires; and can that be called living according to God’s laws! And who can say that the robber who wears the chains is the actual robber, after all!⁠ ⁠… Do you not agree with me?”

“What you say has some truth, no doubt.⁠ ⁠… Well, and what next?”

“And so I grew more and more gloomy, for I saw there was no chance of improvement. Of course, I know a little better now; but even now.⁠ ⁠… But at that time I was beside myself, and it suddenly occurred to me that I might become a convict.”

“How could you do that?”

“Very simply. I called myself a vagrant, and was shut up in consequence. It was a sort of penance that I had imposed upon myself.⁠ ⁠…”

“And did you feel better after that?”

“Not a bit of it! It was simple folly. Perhaps you never were in prison, and, if so, you cannot know. But I have found out all I care to know about that kind of cloister. People who live an idle life, perfectly useless to the world, are pretty sure to fall into wicked ways, and seldom, if ever, do they think of God or of their own salvation; for, if they do, they are treated to the gibes and mockery of their companions. I soon found that my stupidity had brought me into the wrong place; so I told them who I was, and begged to be set free. But this was not a simple matter. Information had to be obtained, one thing and another investigated.⁠ ⁠… And, moreover, they said to me, ‘How did you dare to call yourself what you were not?’ I don’t know how the business would have ended had it not been for something that came to pass just then,⁠ ⁠… which, although it was not a good thing for me, perhaps saved me from something worse.⁠ ⁠…

“One day the report spread throughout the prison that the penitent Bezrúky was to be brought in. I heard the rumor much discussed, some believing it to be true, while others distrusted it. But for me it was a matter of indifference just then. What did I care whether they brought him or not!⁠—it was all one to me!⁠—Prisoners were arriving every day. But the convicts who had just come from town confirmed the story that they were bringing Bezrúky under a strong escort, and that he would be there at night. Prompted by curiosity, our gray population had gathered in the yard. I went with them, not from curiosity, however.⁠ ⁠… When I was uneasy, I often walked up and down in the yard. I was pacing to and fro, and had almost forgotten about Bezrúky, when suddenly the gates were opened, and an old man was led in. He was short and thin, and he wore a long white beard; one arm hung powerless by his side, and he tottered as he walked, like one whose feet refuse to support him. And yet, at this one man, five bayonets were levelled by the guards who escorted him. The sight overcame me. ‘Heavens!’ I thought, ‘what does it mean? Can a man be treated like a wild beast! And no stalwart, brawny fellow, but a feeble, insignificant old man, who looks as if he might not live the week out!⁠ ⁠…’

“And I pitied him from the bottom of my heart; and the more I looked, the more I pitied him. He was led into the office, and a smith was called to shackle his hands and feet. The old man took the fetters, made the sign of the cross over them (after the manner of the Old Faith), and put them on his feet. ‘Fasten it,’ he said to the smith. Then he made a second sign of the cross over the handcuffs, and, passing his hands through them, said: ‘Suffer me to wear them, O Lord, as a penance!’ ”

The driver bent his head and relapsed into silence, as though reliving, in his memory, the scene he had been describing. Then, suddenly lifting his head, he resumed:⁠—

“From that moment he took possession of my heart! I must confess that he bewitched me, and, even though I afterwards discovered him to be a tempter and a fiend, an incarnate devil⁠—may the Lord forgive me for saying so! when I recall that prayer of his, I can hardly believe it⁠—so well could he play the saint that he seemed altogether different from the man he really was.

“And I was not the only one who felt his influence. Even our gray convicts became subdued; they gazed at