Short Fiction, Vladimir Korolenko [finding audrey TXT] 📗

“Oh, that’s not what I wanted to know!”

“Isn’t it? What more do you want me to tell you? Perhaps you would like to know where his warts are, if he has any?”

“You’re trying to throw dust in my eyes I see, but I’m in a hurry. Tell me in plain words: is the miller a good man or a bad one?”

The soldier blew another huge tail of smoke out of his mouth and said:

“What a hasty fellow you are! You like to eat, but you won’t chew.”

The devil opened his eyes wide, and the miller’s heart jumped for joy.

“What a tongue that boy has!” he thought. “And yet how often have I wished that it might drop off. But now it has come in useful. How he is roasting the devil!”

“You like to eat, but you won’t chew, I tell you!” the soldier repeated sternly. “You want me to tell you whether the miller is a good man or not. Every man’s good in my opinion. I’ve eaten bread from many a stove, friend. I wouldn’t even cough where you would die of suffocation. Do you think you’ve struck a fool in me?”

“Splendid! Splendid! Give it to him hard!” the miller said to himself, dancing with joy. “My name isn’t Philip the miller if the devil doesn’t look more foolish than a sheep before half an hour is over! I read so fast in church that no one can understand me, but he talks quietly, and yet just listen to what he is saying!”

And in fact the poor devil was scratching his head so hard that he was nearly knocking his hat off.

“Hold on, soldier!” he exclaimed. “You and I seem to run on and on and never get anywhere. We’re all tangled up.”

“I don’t know about you, but there’s no tangle I can’t get out of.”

“But look here; I asked you whether the miller was a good man or not, and see where you’ve led me!”

“Then let me ask you a question: is water good or not?”

“Water? What’s the matter with water?”

“But if there was kvass63 about you would turn up your nose at water, wouldn’t you? Water would seem tasteless, then, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, perhaps it would.”

“And if there was beer on the table you wouldn’t drink kvass, would you?”

“No, certainly not.”

“And if someone brought you a mug of gorelka you wouldn’t look at beer, eh?”

“You’re quite right.”

“Very well then, you see!”

The devil broke out into a sweat, and the tail hanging out from under his coat beat the ground till it actually raised a cloud of dust from the dam. The soldier threw the stick with his boots on it over his shoulder and was preparing to take his departure when the devil thought of a way he might catch him. He stepped a few steps to one side, and said:

“Well⁠—go along, go along! I shall wait here a little while longer in case Kharko the soldier should happen to come by.”

The soldier stopped.

“What do you want with him?”

“Nothing much, but they tell me that Kharko is a bright fellow and that he knows a thing or two! I thought at first you were he. But now I see I was wrong. One simply goes round and round in a circle with you, and can’t get going to save one’s life.”

The soldier set down his boots.

“Come on, ask me another question!”

“Oh, what’s the use?”

“Try!”

“Very well, then: tell me, whom did you like the best, Yankel the innkeeper, or the miller?”

“Why didn’t you ask me that at once? I don’t like people that hunt for their beards alongside their noses. Some people would rather walk ten versts through the fields than go one verst by the straight road. But I’ll answer you straight to the point, as they say. Yankel kept one inn, but the miller keeps two.”

“Oh, hang him, he needn’t have said that!” thought the miller, miserably. “It would have been ever so much better if he hadn’t referred to it.”

But the soldier continued:

“When I worked for Yankel, I wore bast shoes, now I wear boots!”

“From where did you get them?”

“From where, eh? Our business is like a well with two buckets. One bucket fills and the other grows empty. One goes up and the other goes down. I used to wear bast shoes; now I wear boots. Opanas used to wear boots; now he goes barefoot because he’s a fool. The bucket comes to the wise man full and goes away empty. Now do you understand?”

The devil listened attentively, and said:

“Wait a minute! At last we seem to be getting somewhere!”

“But I’ve been telling you the same thing all along. If you call Yankel kvass, then the miller is beer; but if you were to give me a glass of good vodka, I should let the beer alone.”

The tip of the devil’s tail skipped about so madly on the sand that Kharko noticed it at last. He blew a puff of smoke right into the devil’s face, and put his foot on the tail as if by accident. The devil jumped, and yelped like a great dog. Both he and Kharko took fright; they opened their eyes wide, and stood for half a minute staring at one another without saying a word.

At last Kharko whistled in that insolent way of his, and said:

“Ah, ha! ah, ha! So that’s the game, is it?”

“And what did you think?” asked the devil.

“Now I know the kind of a queer bird you are!”

“I’m what you see I am.”

“Then you’re the one who⁠—last year⁠—?”

“Of course.”

“And you’re⁠—after him?”

“You’re right. And what do you think of my plan?”

Kharko stretched his limbs, blew a puff of smoke, and answered:

“Take him! I won’t cry over him. I’m a poor man. It’s none of my business. I’ll sit in the inn smoking my pipe till a third one comes along.”

Once more the devil roared with laughter, but the soldier only slung his boots across his back and walked rapidly away. As