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Updated: June 16, 2025
And as for the rest of it, what is called a career, a future, that was clear; Volodya would go into the army or the telegraph service, or he would go into a chemist's shop and work his way up till he was a dispenser. . . . There were lots of callings. An hour or two passed, and he was still sitting and thinking. . . .
Most of them, thinking him invulnerable, do not dare attack the travelers whom he is driving. That same year another work of Korolenko's appeared, called: "In Bad Company," a sort of autobiography which added to his renown. The story, poetically simple, is laid in a provincial town. The hero is a little, seven-year-old boy called Volodya. He is the son of the local judge.
If the little vagabonds are hungry, poor Volodya, who himself is without love or caresses, suffers still more, but every time that he brings the children some apples or cakes he feels that he is less unhappy, because these offerings are accepted with such an outpouring of gratitude.
But they have neither malice nor fear. There is the most real, magnificent spectacle, which I can only picture to myself!" "How much cruelty there is in you," said the baroness meditatively. "Well, nothing can be done about it now! My ancestors were cavaliers and robbers. However, shan't we go away now?" They all went out of the garden. Volodya Chaplinsky ordered his automobile called.
"In a minute. . . . Here, I believe this is morphine," said Volodya, reading on one of the labels the word "morph . . ." "Here it is!" Nyuta was standing in the doorway in such a way that one foot was in his room and one was in the passage. She was tidying her hair, which was difficult to put in order because it was so thick and long, and looked absent-mindedly at Volodya.
She heard Yagitch ring the telephone bell. "Be so good as to put me on to the Vassilevsky barracks," he said; and a minute later: "Vassilevsky barracks? Please ask Doctor Salimovitch to come to the telephone . . ." And a minute later: "With whom am I speaking? Is it you, Volodya? Delighted. Ask your father to come to us at once, dear boy; my wife is rather shattered after yesterday.
In the town maman and Volodya lived with Marya Petrovna, a lady of noble rank, who had a large flat and let rooms to boarders. Maman had two rooms, one with windows and two pictures in gold frames hanging on the walls, in which her bed stood and in which she lived, and a little dark room opening out of it in which Volodya lived.
"I will go back," he thought, "and will go by the morning train to-morrow. . . . I will say I have missed the train." And he turned back. . . . Madame Shumihin, Maman, Nyuta, and one of the nieces were sitting on the verandah, playing vint. When Volodya told them the lie that he had missed the train, they were uneasy that he might be late for the examination day, and advised him to get up early.
"Why don't you say something?" said Nyuta, looking Volodya up and down. "It's not polite to be silent when a lady talks to you. What a clumsy seal you are though, Volodya! You always sit, saying nothing, thinking like some philosopher. There's not a spark of life or fire in you!
Tell Volodya that out of gratitude, reverence, or admiration of the virtues of the best men those qualities which make a man exceptional and akin to the Deity peoples and historians have a right to call their elect as they like, without being afraid of insulting God's greatness or of raising a man to God.
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