Short Fiction by Leo Tolstoy (book reader for pc TXT) 📕

It was not quite so dark as it had been the night before.

“Don’t oversleep yourself.”

Emelian got up, went barefooted across the room to the wooden partition to awake Yasha, and then proceeded to dress carefully, greasing and brushing his hair before the broken mirror.

“I’m all right! That’s why girls are so fond of me. Only I don’t want to get into mischief.”

He went to the landlady, as arranged the day before, to get some food. He put a meat pie, two eggs, some ham, and a small bottle of vodka into a bag, and then left the house with Yasha and walked towards the Peter Park.

They were not alone. Some were in front; others were hurrying up from behind. From all sides happy men, women, and children, dressed in their best, were collecting together, all going in the same direction. At last they reached the field called Khodinka. Its edges were black with people. It was cold in the early dawn, and here and there smoke was arising from the fires which were made from such twigs and branches as were available. Emelian found some friends who also had a fire, and round which they were sitting preparing their food and drink. The sun was rising clear and bright, and the general merriment was increasing. The air was filled with singing and chattering, and with jokes and laughter. Everything gave rise to pleasure, but still greater pleasures were in store. Emelian had a drink, and, lighting a cigarette, felt happier than ever.

The people were wearing their best clothes, but several rich merchants, with their wives and children, were also noticeable among the well-dressed working men. Rina Golitsin, too, was remarkable as she walked at her cousin’s side between the wood fires, happy and radiant at having got her own way, and at the thought of celebrating with the people the accession to the throne of a Tsar who was adored by them.

“Here’s to your health, good lady,” cried a factory hand to her, raising his glass to his lips. “Don’t refuse to break bread with us.”

“Thank you.”

“You ought to answer ‘a good appetite to you,’ ” whispered her cousin, showing off his knowledge of popular customs, and they moved on.

Accustomed to occupy the best places everywhere, they penetrated through the crowd, going straight for the pavilion. The crowd was so dense that, notwithstanding the bright weather, a thick mist caused by the breath of the people, hung over the field. But the police would not let them pass.

“I’m rather glad,” said Rina. “Let us return,” and so they went back into the crowd.

“Lies, all lies,” said Emelian, seated with his companions in a circle round the food which was spread out on white paper⁠—in answer to a young factory hand who, on approaching them, told them that the distribution of gifts had begun.

“I tell you it is so. It’s contrary to regulations, but they have begun. I saw it myself. Each one receives a mug and a packet and away they go.”

“Of course, what do the crazy commissionaires care? They give as they choose.”

“But why should they, how can they⁠—against regulations?”

“You see they can.”

“Let’s go, friends. Why should we wait?”

They all rose. Emelian pocketed his bottle with the remains of the vodka and advanced with his comrades. They had not gone more than twenty yards when the crowd became so dense that it was difficult to stir.

“What are you pushing for?”

“You’re pushing yourself.”

“You’re not the only one here.”

“That’ll do.”

“Oh, Lord! I’m crushed!” cried a woman’s voice.

A child could be heard screaming on the other side.

“Go to⁠—”

“How dare you? Are you the only one? Everything will be taken before we get there. But I’ll be even with them, the beasts, the devils,” cried Emelian, squaring his stalwart shoulders and elbowing his way forward as best he could. Seeing everyone else was elbowing and pushing he, without knowing exactly why, also began to try to force a way for himself through the crowd. On every side people were crushing him, but those in front did not move or let anyone through their ranks⁠—and all were shouting and shrieking and groaning.

Emelian silently clenched his strong teeth and frowned, but without losing heart or strength he steadily continued to push those in front, though he made but little progress.

All at once there was a sudden agitation; the steady surging and swaying was followed by a rush forward to the right. Emelian looked to that side and saw something whizz over his head and fall among the crowd. One, two, three⁠—he realised what it meant, and a voice near him exclaimed:

“Cursed devils⁠—they are throwing the things among the crowd!”

The sound of screaming, laughing and groaning came from that part of the crowd where the bags were falling. Someone gave Emelian a severe blow in the ribs which made him even gloomier and angrier, but before he had time to recover from the blow someone else had trodden on his foot. Then his coat, his new coat, caught and was torn. With a feeling of maliciousness in his heart he exerted all his strength to advance when something suddenly happened which he could not understand; and he found himself in an open space and could see the tents, where the mugs and packets of sweets were to be distributed. Up to then he had seen nothing but the backs of other people in front of him.

He felt glad, but only for a moment, for he realised that the reason he could see all these was because those who were in front had reached the trench and were slipping or rolling over into it, and that he himself was knocked down on top of a mass of people. He was tumbling on those below, and others from behind him were in their turn tumbling on him. For the first time he felt afraid. As he fell, a woman in a woollen shawl stumbled over him. Shaking her off, he tried to turn round, but those behind prevented him