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Short stories 3 PDF

1135 Pages·02.302 MB·English
by  ChekhovAnton
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(cid:14) Short Stories - Volume III (cid:13) (cid:2) Anton Chekhov (cid:13) (cid:12) (cid:8) (cid:11) (cid:6) (cid:3) (cid:2) (cid:10) (cid:8) (cid:9) (cid:8) (cid:7) (cid:6) (cid:2) (cid:5) Anton Chekhov (1860-1904) (cid:4) (cid:2) Etext Conversion By (cid:3) (cid:2) Nalanda Digital Library (cid:1) Regional Engineering College,Calicut,India Anton Chekov’s Short Stories - Volume III Contents (cid:14) (cid:13) THE BEAUTIES 4 (cid:2) POLINKA 22 (cid:13) DRUNK 34 (cid:12) AN INADVERTENCE 47 VEROTCHKA (cid:8) 57 (cid:11) SHROVE TUESDAY 87 A DEFENCELESS CREATURE (cid:6) 99 (cid:3) A BAD BUSINESS 111 (cid:2) HOME 124 (cid:10) THE LOTTERY TICKET 145 (cid:8) TOO EARLY! 156 (cid:9) TYPHUS 168 (cid:8) IN PASSION WEEK 184 (cid:7) A MYSTERY 195 THE COSSACK 206 (cid:6) (cid:2) THE LETTER 218 AN ADVENTURE 244 (cid:5) (A Driver’s Story) 244 (cid:4) THE EXAMINING MAGISTRATE 258 ABORIGINES 269 (cid:2) VOLODYA 284 (cid:3) HAPPINESS 315 (cid:2) BAD WEATHER 337 (cid:1) A PLAY 349 A TRANSGRESSION 361 FROM THE DIARY OF A VIOLENT-TEMPERED MAN 372 UPROOTED 396 Etext Conversion Project - Nalanda Digital Library 2 Anton Chekov’s Short Stories - Volume III An Incident of My Travels 396 (cid:14) A FATHER 431 (cid:13) A HAPPY ENDING 448 (cid:2) IN THE COACH-HOUSE 459 (cid:13) ZINOTCHKA 473 (cid:12) THE DOCTOR 487 THE PIPE 499 (cid:8) AN AVENGER (cid:11) 518 THE POST 530 (cid:6) THE RUNAWAY (cid:3) 544 (cid:2) A PROBLEM 562 THE OLD HOUSE (cid:10) 578 (A Story told by a Houseowner) (cid:8) 578 (cid:9) THE CATTLE-DEALERS 591 EXPENSIVE LESSONS (cid:8) 632 (cid:7) THE LION AND THE SUN 646 IN TROUBLE 656 (cid:6) THE KISS 671 (cid:2) BOYS 714 (cid:5) KASHTANKA 730 (A Story) (cid:4) 730 A LADY’S STORY 776 (cid:2) A STORY WITHOUT A TITLE 786 (cid:3) SLEEPY 795 (cid:2) THE STEPPE 809 T(cid:1)he Story of a Journey 809 LIGHTS 1038 DARKNESS 1125 Etext Conversion Project - Nalanda Digital Library 3 Anton Chekov’s Short Stories - Volume III (cid:14) THE BEAUTIES (cid:13) I (cid:2) I REMEMBER, when I was a high school boy in (cid:13) the fifth or sixth class, I was driv(cid:12)ing with my grandfather from the village of Bols(cid:8)hoe Kryepkoe in (cid:11) the Don region to Rostov-on-the-Don. It was a (cid:6) sultry, languidly dreary day of August. Our eyes (cid:3) (cid:2) were glued together, and our mouths were parched (cid:10) from the heat and the dry burning wind which drove (cid:8) (cid:9) clouds of dust to meet us; one did not want to look (cid:8) or speak or think, and when our drowsy driver, a (cid:7) Little Russian called Karpo, swung his whip at the (cid:6) horses and lashed me on my cap, I did not protest (cid:2) or utter a sound, but only, rousing myself from half- (cid:5) slumber, gazed mildly and dejectedly into the (cid:4) distance to see whether there was a village visible (cid:2) through the dust. We stopped to feed the horses in (cid:3) a b(cid:2)ig Armenian village at a rich Armenian’s whom m(cid:1)y grandfather knew. Never in my life have I seen a greater caricature than that Armenian. Imagine a little shaven head with thick overhanging eyebrows, Etext Conversion Project - Nalanda Digital Library 4 Anton Chekov’s Short Stories - Volume III a beak of a nose, long gray mustaches, and a(cid:14) wide mouth with a long cherry-wood chibouk stic(cid:13)king out (cid:2) of it. This little head was clumsily attached to a lean (cid:13) hunch-back carcass attired in a fantastic garb, a (cid:12) short red jacket, and full bright blue trousers. This (cid:8) figure walked straddling its legs and shuffling with (cid:11) its slippers, spoke without taking the chibouk out of (cid:6) (cid:3) its mouth, and behaved with truly Armenian dignity, (cid:2) not smiling, but staring with wide-open eyes and (cid:10) (cid:8) trying to take as little notice as possible of its (cid:9) guests. (cid:8) (cid:7) There was neither wind nor dust in the Armenian’s room(cid:6)s, but it was just as unpleasant, (cid:2) stifling, and dreary as in the steppe and on the road. (cid:5) I remember, dusty and exhausted by the heat, I sat (cid:4) in the corner on a green box. The unpainted wooden (cid:2) walls, the furniture, and the floors colored with (cid:3) yellow ocher smelt of dry wood baked by the sun. (cid:2) Wherever I looked there were flies and flies and (cid:1) flies. . . . Grandfather and the Armenian were talking about grazing, about manure, and about Etext Conversion Project - Nalanda Digital Library 5 Anton Chekov’s Short Stories - Volume III oats. . . . I knew that they would be a good(cid:14) hour getting the samovar; that grandfather would(cid:13) be not (cid:2) less than an hour drinking his tea, and then would (cid:13) lie down to sleep for two or three hours; that I (cid:12) should waste a quarter of the day waiting, after (cid:8) which there would be again the heat, the dust, the (cid:11) jolting cart. I heard the muttering of the two voices, (cid:6) (cid:3) and it began to seem to me that I had been seeing (cid:2) the Armenian, the cupboard with the crockery, the (cid:10) (cid:8) flies, the windows with the burning sun beating on (cid:9) them, for ages and ages, and should only cease to (cid:8) see them in the far-(cid:7)off future, and I was seized with hatred for the steppe, the sun, the flies.. . . (cid:6) (cid:2) A Little Russian peasant woman in a kerchief (cid:5) brought in a tray of tea-things, then the samovar. (cid:4) The Armenian went slowly out into the passage and (cid:2) shouted: "Mashya, come and pour out tea! Where (cid:3) are you, Mashya?" (cid:2) (cid:1)Hurried footsteps were heard, and there came into the room a girl of sixteen in a simple cotton dress and a white kerchief. As she washed the Etext Conversion Project - Nalanda Digital Library 6 Anton Chekov’s Short Stories - Volume III crockery and poured out the tea, she was sta(cid:14)nding with her back to me, and all I could see was (cid:13)that she (cid:2) was of a slender figure, barefooted, and that her (cid:13) little bare heels were covered by long trousers. (cid:12) The Armenian invited me to have tea. Sitting (cid:8) (cid:11) down to the table, I glanced at the girl, who was handing me a glass of tea, an(cid:6)d felt all at once as (cid:3) though a wind were blowin(cid:2)g over my soul and blowing away all the imp(cid:10)ressions of the day with (cid:8) their dust and drearin(cid:9)ess. I saw the bewitching features of the most beautiful face I have ever met (cid:8) (cid:7) in real life or in my dreams. Before me stood a beauty, and I re(cid:6)cognized that at the first glance as I (cid:2) should have recognized lightning. (cid:5) I am ready to swear that Masha -- or, as her (cid:4) father called her, Mashya -- was a real beauty, but I (cid:2) don’t know how to prove it. It sometimes happens (cid:3) tha(cid:2)t clouds are huddled together in disorder on the h(cid:1)orizon, and the sun hiding behind them colors them and the sky with tints of every possible shade-- crimson, orange, gold, lilac, muddy pink; one cloud Etext Conversion Project - Nalanda Digital Library 7 Anton Chekov’s Short Stories - Volume III is like a monk, another like a fish, a third like a(cid:14) Turk in a turban. The glow of sunset enveloping a(cid:13) third of (cid:2) the sky gleams on the cross on the church, flashes (cid:13) on the windows of the manor house, is reflected in (cid:12) the river and the puddles, quivers on the trees; far, (cid:8) far away against the background of the sunset, a (cid:11) flock of wild ducks is flying homewards. . . . And the (cid:6) (cid:3) boy herding the cows, and the surveyor driving in (cid:2) his chaise over the dam, and the gentleman out for (cid:10) (cid:8) a walk, all gaze at the sunset, and every one of (cid:9) them thinks it terribly beautiful, but no one knows or (cid:8) can say in what its b(cid:7)eauty lies. I was not the(cid:6) only one to think the Armenian girl (cid:2) beautiful. My grandfather, an old man of seventy, (cid:5) gruff and indifferent to women and the beauties of (cid:4) nature, looked caressingly at Masha for a full (cid:2) minute, and asked: (cid:3) (cid:2)"Is that your daughter, Avert Nazaritch?" (cid:1) "Yes, she is my daughter," answered the Armenian. "A fine young lady," said my grandfather Etext Conversion Project - Nalanda Digital Library 8 Anton Chekov’s Short Stories - Volume III approvingly. (cid:14) (cid:13) An artist would have called the Armenian girl’s (cid:2) beauty classical and severe, it was just that beauty, (cid:13) the contemplation of which -- God knows why!-- (cid:12) inspires in one the conviction that one is seeing (cid:8) (cid:11) correct features; that hair, eyes, nose, mouth, neck, bosom, and every movement o(cid:6)f the young body all (cid:3) go together in one complete(cid:2) harmonious accord in which nature has not blu(cid:10)ndered over the smallest (cid:8) line. You fancy for so(cid:9)me reason that the ideally beautiful woman must have such a nose as Masha’s, (cid:8) (cid:7) straight and slightly aquiline, just such great dark eyes, such long (cid:6)lashes, such a languid glance; you (cid:2) fancy that her black curly hair and eyebrows go with (cid:5) the soft white tint of her brow and cheeks as the (cid:4) green reeds go with the quiet stream. Masha’s white (cid:2) neck and her youthful bosom were not fully (cid:3) developed, but you fancy the sculptor would need a (cid:2) great creative genius to mold them. You gaze, and (cid:1) little by little the desire comes over you to say to Masha something extraordinarily pleasant, sincere, Etext Conversion Project - Nalanda Digital Library 9 Anton Chekov’s Short Stories - Volume III beautiful, as beautiful as she herself was. (cid:14) (cid:13) At first I felt hurt and abashed that Masha took (cid:2) no notice of me, but was all the time looking down; (cid:13) it seemed to me as though a peculiar atmosphere, (cid:12) proud and happy, separated her from me and (cid:8) (cid:11) jealously screened her from my eyes. (cid:6) "That’s because I am covered with dust," I (cid:3) (cid:2) thought, "am sunburnt, and am still a boy." (cid:10) But little by little I(cid:8) forgot myself, and gave (cid:9) myself up entirely to the consciousness of beauty. I (cid:8) thought no more n(cid:7)ow of the dreary steppe, of the dust, no longer heard the buzzing of the flies, no (cid:6) (cid:2) longer tasted the tea, and felt nothing except that a (cid:5) beautiful girl was standing only the other side of the table. (cid:4) (cid:2) I felt this beauty rather strangely. It was not (cid:3) desire, nor ecstacy, nor enjoyment that Masha (cid:2) excited in me, but a painful though pleasant (cid:1) sadness. It was a sadness vague and undefined as a dream. For some reason I felt sorry for myself, for my grandfather and for the Armenian, even for the Etext Conversion Project - Nalanda Digital Library 10

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