Chapter 22: The Stingy Yet Generous Master

Mikhail read with such absorption that he barely glanced at his audience, instead immersing himself in the emotions of the story, recounting his experiences and his longing to return home with a childlike innocence, though this narration inevitably carried a certain heaviness in some parts.

After all, such things were indeed happening all over Russia, yet most remained unknown, swept away silently by the wind of history like grains of sand.

Mikhail's recitation was powerfully emotional, and as the story slowly unfolded, the previously noisy dining table suddenly fell much quieter at some point.

The young merchant Versilov, who had been somewhat impatient, now appeared much more serious, occasionally shifting his body as if feeling guilty, his eyes not knowing where to look.

Meanwhile, the fourteenth-rank minor official Smirnov had already prepared to laugh heartily, intending to give the young man some encouragement and even share his experience in telling humorous stories.

Therefore, at the very beginning, Smirnov had even put on a smiling face and cast an encouraging glance at Mikhail.

But now, Smirnov's smile had frozen, his upturned corners of the mouth slowly sinking until, in the end, his face was one of pain.

Even the small landowner Tiesenhausen, who had been persistently shoving food into his mouth, suddenly stopped at some point and raised his head to listen blankly to Mikhail's recitation.

Unknowingly, tears had filled the eyes of this elderly man.

Even Nastasya, the old maid who had initially only wanted to watch the spectacle with green light in her eyes, stood frozen in place; the green light in her eyes had vanished, leaving only a coldness and gloom like the weather in Saint Petersburg.

As for Pavlovna, the Tsar of this small apartment, a woman as heavy and resolute as a mountain, who had originally been indifferent with eyes fixed only on her precious samovar, she puckered her lips as she listened, her fierce face crumpling into a frown, looking as if she had suddenly become angry at someone unknown.

And when Mikhail's story reached its conclusion:

"With beautiful hopes, he settled down, and after an hour, fell asleep..."

When the story finally ended, Pavlovna, the Tsar of the small apartment, was the first to move; she slowly walked to Mikhail's side, took his empty teacup, and immediately refilled it for him.

As she placed it before Mikhail, this Tsar of the small apartment spoke in a gentle tone Mikhail had never heard before, saying slowly: "A very good story, dear Mikhail, you write very well. Drink some tea, drink more!"

As soon as Pavlovna spoke, the quiet atmosphere was instantly broken; among them, the elderly small landowner Tiesenhausen was the first to burst into tears:

"Poor child! He is so much like my little grandson. The same innocence, the same deep affection for his grandfather, but he passed away from typhus several years ago! Fortunately, he did not suffer too much, but such a small life, smiling at me just yesterday, climbing onto my knees to play, how could it be gone so suddenly?"

While crying, the old man could not help but look at Mikhail and ask:

"What happened next, dear Mikhail? Was this poor child taken away by his grandfather? Can he return to the happy days of before?"

"Of course, dear Tiesenhausen." Seeing the old man recalling past sorrows, Mikhail spoke quite gently: "He will soon escape the sea of bitterness, reunite with his grandfather, and live a life better than before."

"Oh, God bless him!"

It wasn't like that, was it?

Although the minor official wanted to ask this, looking at the old man crying so sorrowfully and then at the gentle Mikhail, Smirnov suddenly understood, so he could not help but speak up to praise:

"Written so well, Mikhail! Truly worthy of a university student! This is simply the best story I have ever heard in my life; it is more powerful than a hundred jokes! I really did not expect that Russia still has such novels today!"

While saying this, Smirnov did not forget the young merchant Versilov nearby, so he quickly turned to ask for his opinion:

"What do you think, Versilov? Do you understand? What do you think of this novel?"

"Written quite well." Although his face was somewhat embarrassed, Versilov muttered in reply: "But what use is such a novel? How could it be more useful than a ruble? People just read it and that's it."

Because these words were spoken vaguely, in this somewhat noisy situation, most people did not hear clearly, and after Versilov muttered for a while, he suddenly looked up at the time, then immediately became panicked:

"God! I still have a business deal to discuss, how did it get to this time in the blink of an eye? I must go."

Although he immediately started moving, before leaving, the young merchant Versilov still took off his hat to salute Mikhail:

"Dear Mikhail, will you continue reading? Could it be that you have published more than just this one work?"

"There is another one, Mr. Versilov. But the time is about right now, everyone has things to do; if there is a chance later and you are still willing to listen, I will find a time to read the other novel as well."

"That would be even better, I'm leaving, I'm leaving!"

After saying this, Versilov hurriedly dodged the minor official Smirnov, who seemed to want to say something, and walked straight downstairs.

And to save time, Versilov quickly hailed a carriage, clarified the time and location, then temporarily breathed a sigh of relief behind the carriage, waiting for it to stop at the destination.

Yet for some reason, the novel Mikhail had just read still echoed in Versilov's mind; to get rid of this influence, Versilov unconsciously looked at the coachman in front.

A tattered coat, a young face that still looked childish but was already rough, and cheeks frozen red.

But for some reason, this young man was not tired, even vaguely excited.

Versilov did not know why he noticed these things he would never care about in ordinary times; only when arriving at the destination, looking at that young face, did Versilov hesitate for a long while before handing over the fare with great reluctance.

"One extra kopek, Master!"

"Take it, take it, go buy something to eat, young man."

Oh God! I must be crazy!

Waving his hand with reluctance, Versilov quickened his pace, preparing to leave this sorrowful place quickly.

And after watching Versilov leave, the young coachman also hurriedly climbed onto his carriage, preparing to quickly fetch a customer.

Today was truly an extraordinary day!

The young masters in Saint Petersburg were simply acting like madmen today!

They often gave several extra kopeks; it was said that some even received rubles!

Undoubtedly, today was a good day to try one's luck.

However, such good things almost only happened to those young masters; that a very old master like Versilov, who looked rather sharp and mean, could also give a little extra was truly unexpected by the young coachman.

But it was indeed stingy enough, fitting the style of such a master...

(End of Chapter)