Fiction; Short stories, Russian -- Translations into English
Shakro winked slyly at me, and burst out into a fresh fit of laughter.
The hearty, buoyant ring in his laugh made me smile also. The few
hours rest we had taken by the side of the shepherd's fire, and their
excellent bread and bacon, had helped us to forget our exhausting voyage.
Our bones still ached a little, but that would pass off with walking.
"Well, what are you laughing at? Are you glad that you are alive?
Alive and not even hungry?"
Shakro shook his head, nudged me in the ribs, made a grimace, burst out
laughing again, and at last said in his broken Russian: "You don't see
what it is that makes me laugh? Well, I'll tell you in a minute. Do you
know what I should have done if we had been taken before the ataman?
You don't know? I'd have told him that you had tried to drown me,
and I should have begun to cry. Then they would have been sorry for me,
and wouldn't have put me in prison! Do you see?"
At first I tried to make myself believe that it was a joke;
but, alas! he succeeded in convincing me he meant it seriously.
So clearly and completely did he convince me of it, that,
instead of being furious with him for such naive cynicism,
I was filled with deep pity for him and incidentally for
myself as well.
What else but pity can one feel for a man who tells one in all sincerity,
with the brightest of smiles, of his intention to murder one?
What is to be done with him if he looks upon such an action as a clever
and delightful joke?
I began to argue warmly with him, trying to show him all
the immorality of his scheme. He retorted very candidly that I
did not see where his interests lay, and had forgotten he had
a false passport and might get into trouble in consequence.
Suddenly a cruel thought flashed through my mind.
"Stay," said I, "do you really believe that I wanted to drown you?"
"No! When you were pushing me into the water I did think so;
but when you got in as well, then I didn't!"
"Thank God!" I exclaimed. "Well, thanks for that, anyway!"
"Oh! no, you needn't say thank you. I am the one to say thank you.
Were we not both cold when we were sitting round the fire?
The overcoat was yours, but you didn't take it yourself.
You dried it, and gave it to me. And took nothing for yourself.
Thank you for that! You are a good fellow; I can see that.
When we get to Tiflis, I will reward you. I shall take you to my father.
I shall say to him: 'Here is a man whom you must feed and care for,
while I deserve only to be kept in the stable with the mules.'
You shall live with us, and be our gardener, and we will give you
wine in plenty, and anything you like to eat. Ah! you will have
a capital time! You will share my wine and food!"
He continued for some time, describing in detail the attractions
of the new life he was going to arrange for me in his home in Tiflis.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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