Short Stories E-Book

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

• Herausgeber: anna ruggieri
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

After a brief military career, the illustrious Russian author Fyodor Dostoyevsky quickly turned to writing as a profession with the publication of his first novel, "Poor Folk," in 1846. This novel sparked a literary career that would eventually cement Dostoyevsky's reputation as one of the greatest novelists of the nineteenth century. Early participation in a literary/political group landed the writer in exile in Siberia for nearly a decade, an experience which had a profound influence on Dostoyevsky's understanding of fate, the suffering of human beings, and resulted in a powerful religious conversion experience. Dostoyevsky's works are marked by his penetrating exploration of psychology and morality, which are today cited as highly 'existentialist.' This definitive collection of Dostoyevsky's short stories includes: White Nights, An Honest Thief, A Christmas Tree and a Wedding, The Peasant Marey, Notes From Underground, A Faint Heart, and The Dream of a Ridiculous Man.

Leseprobe

Short Stories

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

First digital edition 2017 by Anna Ruggieri

AN HONEST THIEF

One morning, justas I was about to set off to my office,Agrafena, my cook, washerwoman and housekeeper, came in to me and,to my surprise, entered into conversation.

She had always been such a silent, simple creature that, excepther daily inquiry about dinner, she had not uttered a word for thelast six years. I, at least, had heard nothing else from her.

"Here I have come in to have a word with you, sir," she beganabruptly; "you really ought to let the little room."

"Which little room?"

"Why, the one next the kitchen,to be sure."

"What for?"

"What for? Why because folks do take in lodgers, to besure."

"But who would take it?"

"Who would take it? Why, a lodger would take it, to besure."

"But, my good woman, one could not put a bedstead in it; therewouldn't be room tomove! Who could live in it?"

"Who wants to live there! As long as he has a place to sleep in.Why, he would live in the window."

"In what window?"

"In what window! As though you didn't know! The one in thepassage, to be sure. He would sit there, sewing or doing anythingelse. Maybe he would sit on a chair, too. He's got a chair; and hehas a table, too; he's got everything."

"Who is 'he' then?"

"Oh, a good man, a man of experience. I will cook for him. AndI'll ask him three roubles a month for his boardand lodging."

After prolonged efforts I succeeded at last in learning fromAgrafena that an elderly man had somehow managed to persuade her toadmit him into the kitchen as a lodger and boarder. Any notionAgrafena took into her head had to be carried out; if not, I knewshe would give me no peace. When anything was not to her liking,she at once began to brood,and sank into a deep dejection thatwould last for a fortnight or three weeks. During that period mydinners were spoiled, my linen was mislaid, my floors wentunscrubbed; in short, I had a great deal to put up with. I hadobserved long ago that this inarticulate woman was incapable ofconceiving a project, of originating an idea of her own. But ifanything like a notion or a project was by some means put into herfeeble brain, to prevent its being carried out meant, for a time,her moral assassination. And so, as I cared more for my peace ofmind than for anything else, I consented forthwith.

"Has he a passport anyway, or something of the sort?"

"Tobe sure, he has. He is a good man, a man of experience; threeroubles he's promised to pay."

The very next day the new lodger made his appearance in mymodest bachelor quarters; but I was not put out by this, indeed Iwas inwardly pleased. I lead as a rule a very lonely hermit'sexistence. I have scarcely any friends; I hardly ever go anywhere.As I had spent ten years never coming out of my shell, I had, ofcourse, grown used to solitude. But another ten or fifteen years ormore of the same solitary existence, with the same Agrafena, in thesame bachelor quarters, was in truth a somewhat cheerless prospect.And therefore a new inmate, if well-behaved, was a heaven-sentblessing.

Agrafena had spoken truly: my lodger was certainly a man ofexperience. From his passport it appeared that he was an oldsoldier, a fact which I should have known indeed from his face. Anold soldier is easily recognised. Astafy Ivanovitch was afavourable specimen of his class. We got on very well together.What was best of all, Astafy Ivanovitch would sometimes tell astory, describing some incident in his own life. In the perpetualboredom of my existence such a story-teller was a veritabletreasure. One day he told me one of these stories. It made animpression on me. The following event was what led to it.