Short Fiction Leo Tolstoy (interesting books to read for teens txt) 📖

dealt with the sums assigned for the carriage of provender. He read this attentively, considering whether the amounts were correctly or wrongly calculated, when suddenly he remembered a talk he had had with his assistant about Svetlogoúb’s case. The General thought that the dynamite found in Svetlogoúb’s possession was not sufficient proof of criminal intentions; while the assistant insisted that besides the dynamite there was sufficient evidence to prove that Svetlogoúb was the leader of the gang. And, remembering this, the General became thoughtful; and his heart, under the padded coat with facings as stiff as cardboard, began to beat nervously; and he breathed so hard that the large white cross⁠—the object of his joy and pride⁠—visibly rose and sank on his breast. The secretary might still be called back, and the sentence might at least be delayed, if not remitted.

“Shall I call him back, or shall I not?”

His heart beat more irregularly. He rang; and the courier entered with quick, nervous footsteps.

“Has Iván Matvéitch gone?”

“No, your Excellency; he is in the office.”

The General’s heart now stopped, now beat quickly. He remembered the warnings of the doctor who had examined him a few days before.

“Above all,” the doctor had said, “if you begin to feel that you have a heart, stop working⁠—divert your mind. There is nothing so bad as agitation. On no account allow yourself to be agitated.”

“Shall I call him, your Excellency?”

“No, it is not necessary,” answered the General. “Yes,” said he to himself, “nothing is so agitating as indecision. It is signed and done with.⁠ ⁠… ‘Ein jeder macht sich sein Bett und muss d’rauf schlafen’ ”:320 he repeated his favourite proverb. “Besides, it is not my business. I only fulfil the Supreme Will,321 and must stand above that kind of consideration,” he added, frowning to awaken in himself the cruelty which was not natural to him.

And here he remembered his last interview with the Tsar⁠—how the latter had fixed his cold, icy look on him and had said: “I trust you! As in war you did not spare yourself, so you must act with the same firmness now in the fight with the ‘red ones,’ and must not allow yourself to be either deceived or frightened.⁠ ⁠… Goodbye!” Then the Tsar had embraced him, offering his shoulder to the General to kiss. The General recalled the words with which he had answered the Tsar: “My one desire is to give my life to serve my Emperor and my country!”

And as he recalled the feeling of servile emotion which the consciousness of his self-sacrificing loyalty to his Sovereign had evoked in him, he drove from his mind the thought which for a moment had disturbed him⁠—signed the rest of the papers, and rang again.

“Is tea ready?” he asked.

“It is just being served, your Excellency.”

“All right⁠ ⁠… you may go.”

The Governor sighed deeply, and rubbed the place where his heart was. Then, heavily treading through the large empty hall, with its freshly polished parquet-floor, he went towards the drawing-room, whence came the sound of voices.

The General’s wife had visitors: the Governor and his wife; an old Princess, an ardent patriot; and an officer of the Guards⁠—the fiancé of his last unmarried daughter. His wife, a thin-lipped, cold-faced woman, sat at a low table, on which tea was laid, a silver teapot standing on the top of the samovar. She was speaking with affected sadness of her anxiety about her husband’s health, to the Governor’s wife⁠—a lady who gave herself the airs of a young woman.

“Every day fresh information brings to light conspiracies and all sorts of dreadful things.⁠ ⁠… And it all falls on Basil⁠—he has to decide everything.”

“Oh, don’t mention it!” said the Princess. “Je deviens féroce quand je pense à cette maudite engeance!”322

“Yes, yes⁠ ⁠… it’s awful! Will you believe it? He works twelve hours a day, and with his weak heart, too. I really am afraid.⁠ ⁠…”

Seeing her husband enter, she did not finish the sentence.

“Oh yes, you must hear him! Barbini is a wonderful tenor,” she said, smiling amiably at the Governor’s wife. She referred to a singer newly arrived in Russia, and did so as naturally as though he had been the sole subject of their conversation.

The General’s daughter, a plump, pretty young girl, was sitting with her fiancé behind a Chinese screen at the other end of the drawing-room. They both rose and went up to her father.

“Dear me! Why, we have not yet seen one another today!” said the General, kissing his daughter and pressing her fiancé’s hand.

After greeting his guests, the General sat down at a small table, and began talking with the Governor about the latest news.

“No, no! You must not talk business⁠—it is forbidden!” the General’s wife said, interrupting the Governor. “Ah⁠ ⁠… and, as luck will have it, here is Kópyef: he will tell us something amusing!”

And Kópyef, noted for his gaiety and wit, did tell them the latest anecdote, which made everybody laugh.

II

“No, no! It cannot be, it cannot!⁠ ⁠… Let me go!” Svetlogoúb’s mother shouted piercingly, struggling to free herself from the grasp of the schoolmaster⁠—her son’s friend⁠—and of the doctor, who were trying to keep her back.

Svetlogoúb’s mother was a nice-looking middle-aged woman, with grey curls and a star of wrinkles near each eye.

The schoolmaster, when he heard that the death-warrant was signed, wanted to prepare her gently for the terrible news; but he had hardly begun to speak about her son when, by the tone of his voice and his timid look, she guessed that what she dreaded had really happened. This took place in a small room in the best hotel in the town.

“Oh dear! Why do you hold me? Let go!” she shouted, freeing herself from the doctor⁠—an old friend of the family, who with one hand held her by her thin elbow, and with the other put a bottle of medicine on the table which stood before the sofa. She was glad