Fiction; Short stories, Russian -- Translations into English
The soft splash of the waves did not reach us.
We were resting in a hollow gorge that was overgrown with bushes,
and looked like the shaggy mouth of some petrified monster.
I still watched Shakro, and thought: "This is my fellow traveler.
I might leave him here, but I could never get away from him,
or the like of him; their name is legion. This is my life companion.
He will leave me only at death's door."
CHAPTER V.
At Feodosia we were sorely disappointed. All work there was already
apportioned among Turks, Greeks, Georgians, tramps, and Russian
peasants from Poltava and Smolensk, who had all arrived before us.
Already, more than four hundred men had, like ourselves, come in
the hopes of finding employment; and were also, like ourselves,
destined to remain silent spectators of the busy work going on
in the port.
In the town, and outside also, we met groups of famished peasants,
gray and careworn, wandering miserably about. Of tramps there
were also plenty, roving around like hungry wolves.
At first these tramps took us for famished peasants, and tried to make
what they could out of us. They tore from Shakro's back the overcoat
which I had bought him, and they snatched my knapsack from my shoulders.
After several discussions, they recognized our intellectual and
social kinship with them; and they returned all our belongings.
Tramps are men of honor, though they may be great rogues.
Seeing that there was no work for us, and that the construction
of the harbor was going on very well without our help,
we moved on resentfully toward Kertch.
My friend kept his word, and never again molested me; but he was
terribly famished, his countenance was as black as thunder.
He ground his teeth together, as does a wolf, whenever he saw
someone else eating; and he terrified me by the marvellous
accounts of the quantity of food he was prepared to consume.
Of late he had begun to talk about women, at first only casually,
with sighs of regret. But by degrees he came to talk more and more
often on the subject, with the lascivious smile of "an Oriental."
At length his state became such, that he could not see any person
of the other sex, whatever her age or appearance, without letting
fall some obscene remark about her looks or her figure.
He spoke of women so freely, with so wide a knowledge of the sex;
and his point of view, when discussing women, was so astoundingly direct,
that his conversation filled me with disgust. Once I tried to
prove to him that a woman was a being in no way inferior to him.
I saw that he was not merely mortified by my words, but was on
the point of violently resenting them as a personal insult.
So I postponed my arguments till such time as Shakro should be
well fed once more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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