English essays -- 20th century; Russia; Russia -- Fiction; Russia -- Social life and customs; Short stories, English
Just as I was preparing to sleep, the guard came and began to search
the corners and the floor of the carriage with a candle as if he had
dropped a pin or a penny. He explained that there were twelve recruits
in the carriage, but that an extra man had got in with them and that
he was looking for him. He then went away. Thereupon one of the
recruits explained to me that the man was under one of the seats and
hidden by boxes, as he wished to go to St. Petersburg without a ticket.
I went to sleep. But the guard came back and turned me carefully over
to see if I was the missing man. Then he began to look again in the
most unlikely places for a man to be hid. He gave up the search twice,
but the hidden man could not resist putting out his head to see what
was happening, and before he could get it back the guard coming in at
that moment caught sight of him. The man was turned out, but he got
into the train again, and the next morning it was discovered that he
had stolen one of the recruits’ boxes and some article of property from
nearly everybody in the carriage, including hats and coats. This he had
done while the recruits slept, since when they stopped singing and went
to sleep they slept soundly. Later in the night a huge and old peasant
entered the train and crept under the seat opposite to me. The guard
did not notice him, and after the tickets had been collected from the
passengers who got in at that station the man crept out, and lay down
on one of the higher berths. He remained there nearly all night, but at
one of the stations the guard said: “Is there no one for this station?”
and looking at the peasant, added: “Where are you for, old man?” The
man mumbled in pretended sleep. “Where is your ticket?” asked the
guard. No answer. At last when the question had been repeated thrice,
he said: “I am a poor, little, old man.” “You haven’t got a ticket,”
said the guard. “Get out, devil, you might lose me my place--and I a
married man. Devil! Devil! Devil!” “It is on account of my extreme
poverty,” said the old man, and he was turned out.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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