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Short Stories by Anton Chekhov, Volume 1: A Tragic Actor and Other Stories
Short Stories by Anton Chekhov, Volume 1: A Tragic Actor and Other Stories
Short Stories by Anton Chekhov, Volume 1: A Tragic Actor and Other Stories
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Short Stories by Anton Chekhov, Volume 1: A Tragic Actor and Other Stories

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A collection of Short Stories by Anton Chekhov featuring "A Tragic Actor", "In A Strange Land", "Oh The Public", "The Looking Glass", "Her Husband", and "Overdoing It". These stories are small masterpieces. The scene is set quickly and within a few sentences the story line is underway. But all seem to contain an element of the unexpected.

In "A Tragic Actor", a man who believes he is destined for great things, but his life does not turn out as planned. The protagonist, Alexander Ivanovich Petrov, is a struggling actor who has never had much success. He spends his days working at a small theater in a small town, and his nights drinking and dreaming of the day when he will finally make it big.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 14, 2010
ISBN9781907832000
Short Stories by Anton Chekhov, Volume 1: A Tragic Actor and Other Stories
Author

Anton Chekhov

Anton Chekhov was born in 1860 in Southern Russia and moved to Moscow to study medicine. Whilst at university he sold short stories and sketches to magazines to raise money to support his family. His success and acclaim grew as both a writer of fiction and of plays whilst he continued to practice medicine. Ill health forced him to move from his country estate near Moscow to Yalta where he wrote some of his most famous work, and it was there that he married actress Olga Knipper. He died from tuberculosis in 1904.

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    Short Stories by Anton Chekhov, Volume 1 - Anton Chekhov

    Anton Chekhov

    Anton Chekhov

    Short Stories by Anton Chekhov

    A Tragic Actor and Other Stories

    New Edition

    New Edition

    Published by Sovereign Classic

    This Edition

    First published in 2020

    Copyright © 2020 Sovereign

    All Rights Reserved.

    ISBN: 9781907832000

    Contents

    A TRAGIC ACTOR

    IN A STRANGE LAND

    OH! THE PUBLIC

    THE LOOKING-GLASS

    HER HUSBAND

    OVERDOING IT

    A TRAGIC ACTOR

    It was the benefit night of Fenogenov, the tragic actor. They were acting Prince Serebryany. The tragedian himself was playing Vyazemsky; Limonadov, the stage manager, was playing Morozov; Madame Beobahtov, Elena. The performance was a grand success. The tragedian accomplished wonders indeed. When he was carrying off Elena, he held her in one hand above his head as he dashed across the stage. He shouted, hissed, banged with his feet, tore his coat across his chest. When he refused to fight Morozov, he trembled all over as nobody ever trembles in reality, and gasped loudly. The theatre shook with applause. There were endless calls. Fenogenov was presented with a silver cigarette-case and a bouquet tied with long ribbons. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs and urged their men to applaud, many shed tears. . . . But the one who was the most enthusiastic and most excited was Masha, daughter of Sidoretsky the police captain. She was sitting in the first row of the stalls beside her farther; she was ecstatic and could not take her eyes off the stage even between the acts. Her delicate little hands and feet were quivering, her eyes were full of tears, her cheeks turned paler and paler. And no wonder − she was at the theatre for the first time in her life.

    How well they act! how splendidly! she said to her farther the police captain, every time the curtain fell. How good Fenogenov is!

    And if her farther had been capable of reading faces he would have read on his daughter’s pale little countenance a rapture that was almost anguish. She was overcome by the acting, by the play, by the surroundings. When the regimental band began playing between the acts, she closed her eyes, exhausted.

    Papa! she said to the police captain during the last interval, go behind the scenes and ask them all to dinner to-morrow!

    The police captain went behind the scenes, praised them for all their fine acting, and complimented Madame Beobahtov.

    Your lovely face demands a canvas, and I only wish I could wield the brush!

    And with a scrape, he thereupon invited the company to dinner.

    All except the fair sex, he whispered. I don’t want the actresses, I have a daughter.

    Next day the actors dined at the police captain’s. Only three turned up, the manager Limonadov, the tragedian Fenogenov, and the comic man Vodolazov; the others sent excuses. The dinner was a dull affair. Limonadov kept telling the police captain how much he respected him, and how highly he thought of all

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