First of all I had at once to repay what I had borrowed the day before from Simonov. I resolved on a desperate measure: to borrow fifteen roubles straight off from Anton Antonitch. As luck would have it he was in the best of humours that morning, and gave it to me at once, on the first asking. I was so delighted at this that, as I signed the IOU with a swaggering air, I told him casually3 that the night before “I had been keeping it up with some friends at the Hotel de Paris; we were giving a farewell party to a comrade, in fact, I might say a friend of my childhood, and you know — a desperate rake, fearfully spoilt — of course, he belongs to a good family, and has considerable means, a brilliant career; he is witty4, charming, a regular Lovelace, you understand; we drank an extra ‘half-dozen’ and . . . ”
And it went off all right; all this was uttered very easily, unconstrainedly and complacently5.
On reaching home I promptly6 wrote to Simonov.
To this hour I am lost in admiration7 when I recall the truly gentlemanly, good-humoured, candid8 tone of my letter. With tact9 and good- breeding, and, above all, entirely10 without superfluous11 words, I blamed myself for all that had happened. I defended myself, “if I really may be allowed to defend myself,” by alleging12 that being utterly13 unaccustomed to wine, I had been intoxicated14 with the first glass, which I said, I had drunk before they arrived, while I was waiting for them at the Hotel de Paris between five and six o’clock. I begged Simonov’s pardon especially; I asked him to convey my explanations to all the others, especially to Zverkov, whom “I seemed to remember as though in a dream” I had insulted. I added that I would have called upon all of them myself, but my head ached, and besides I had not the face to. I was particularly pleased with a certain lightness, almost carelessness (strictly within the bounds of politeness, however), which was apparent in my style, and better than any possible arguments, gave them at once to understand that I took rather an independent view of “all that unpleasantness last night”; that I was by no means so utterly crushed as you, my friends, probably imagine; but on the contrary, looked upon it as a gentleman serenely15 respecting himself should look upon it. “On a young hero’s past no censure16 is cast!”
“There is actually an aristocratic playfulness about it!” I thought admiringly, as I read over the letter. “And it’s all because I am an intellectual and cultivated man! Another man in my place would not have known how to extricate17 himself, but here I have got out of it and am as jolly as ever again, and all because I am ‘a cultivated and educated man of our day.’ And, indeed, perhaps, everything was due to the wine yesterday. H’m!” . . . No, it was not the wine. I did not drink anything at all between five and six when I was waiting for them. I had lied to Simonov; I had lied shamelessly; and indeed I wasn’t ashamed now . . . . Hang it all though, the great thing was that I was rid of it.
I put six roubles in the letter, sealed it up, and asked Apollon to take it to Simonov. When he learned that there was money in the letter, Apollon became more respectful and agreed to take it. Towards evening I went out for a walk. My head was still aching and giddy after yesterday. But as evening came on and the twilight18 grew denser19, my impressions and, following them, my thoughts, grew more and more different and confused. Something was not dead within me, in the depths of my heart and conscience it would not die, and it showed itself in acute depression. For the most part I jostled my way through the most crowded business streets, along Myeshtchansky Street, along Sadovy Street and in Yusupov Garden. I always liked particularly sauntering along these streets in the dusk, just when there were crowds of working people of all sorts going home from their daily work, with faces looking cross with anxiety. What I liked was just that cheap bustle20, that bare prose. On this occasion the jostling of the streets irritated me more than ever, I could not make out what was wrong with me, I could not find the clue, something seemed rising up continually in my soul, painfully, and refusing to be appeased21. I returned home completely upset, it was just as though some crime were lying on my conscience.
The thought that Liza was coming worried me continually. It seemed queer to me that of all my recollections of yesterday this tormented22 me, as it were, especially, as it were, quite separately. Everything else I had quite succeeded in forgetting by the evening; I dismissed it all and was still perfectly23 satisfied with my letter to Simonov. But on this point I was not satisfied at all. It was as though I were worried only by Liza. “What if she comes,” I thought incessantly24, “well, it doesn’t matter, let her come! H’m! it’s horrid25 that she should see, for instance, how I live. Yesterday I seemed such a hero to her, while now, h’m! It’s horrid, though, that I have let myself go so, the room looks like a beggar’s. And I brought myself to go out to dinner in such a suit! And my American leather sofa with the stuffing sticking out. And my dressing-gown, which will not cover me, such tatters, and she will see all this and she will see Apollon. That beast is certain to insult her. He will fasten upon her in order to be rude to me. And I, of course, shall be panic-stricken as usual, I shall begin bowing and scraping before her and pulling my dressing-gown round me, I shall begin smiling, telling lies. Oh, the beastliness! And it isn’t the beastliness of it that matters most! There is something more important, more loathsome26, viler27! Yes, viler! And to put on that dishonest lying mask again! . . . ”
When I reached that thought I fired up all at once.
“Why dishonest? How dishonest? I was speaking sincerely last night. I remember there was real feeling in me, too. What I wanted was to excite an honourable28 feeling in her . . . . Her crying was a good thing, it will have a good effect.”
Yet I could not feel at ease. All that evening, even when I had come back home, even after nine o’clock, when I calculated that Liza could not possibly come, still she haunted me, and what was worse, she came back to my mind always in the same position. One moment out of all that had happened last night stood vividly29 before my imagination; the moment when I struck a match and saw her pale, distorted face, with its look of torture. And what a pitiful, what an unnatural30, what a distorted smile she had at that moment! But I did not know then, that fifteen years later I should still in my imagination see Liza, always with the pitiful, distorted, inappropriate smile which was on her face at that minute.
Next day I was ready again to look upon it all as nonsense, due to over- excited nerves, and, above all, as EXAGGERATED. I was always conscious of that weak point of mine, and sometimes very much afraid of it. “I exaggerate everything, that is where I go wrong,” I repeated to myself every hour. But, however, “Liza will very likely come all the same,” was the refrain with which all my reflections ended. I was so uneasy that I sometimes flew into a fury: “She’ll come, she is certain to come!” I cried, running about the room, “if not today, she will come tomorrow; she’ll find me out! The damnable romanticism of these pure hearts! Oh, the vileness31 — oh, the silliness — oh, the stupidity of these ‘wretched sentimental2 souls!’ Why, how fail to understand? How could one fail to understand? . . . ”
But at this point I stopped short, and in great confusion, indeed.
And how few, how few words, I thought, in passing, were needed; how little of the idyllic32 (and affectedly33, bookishly, artificially idyllic too) had sufficed to turn a whole human life at once according to my will. That’s virginity, to be sure! Freshness of soil!
At times a thought occurred to me, to go to her, “to tell her all,” and beg her not to come to me. But this thought stirred such wrath34 in me that I believed I should have crushed that “damned” Liza if she had chanced to be near me at the time. I should have insulted her, have spat35 at her, have turned her out, have struck her!
One day passed, however, another and another; she did not come and I began to grow calmer. I felt particularly bold and cheerful after nine o’clock, I even sometimes began dreaming, and rather sweetly: I, for instance, became the salvation36 of Liza, simply through her coming to me and my talking to her . . . . I develop her, educate her. Finally, I notice that she loves me, loves me passionately37. I pretend not to understand (I don’t know, however, why I pretend, just for effect, perhaps). At last all confusion, transfigured, trembling and sobbing38, she flings herself at my feet and says that I am her saviour39, and that she loves me better than anything in the world. I am amazed, but . . . . “Liza,” I say, “can you imagine that I have not noticed your love? I saw it all, I divined it, but I did not dare to approach you first, because I had an influence over you and was afraid that you would force yourself, from gratitude40, to respond to my love, would try to rouse in your heart a feeling which was perhaps absent, and I did not wish that . . . because it would be tyranny . . . it would be indelicate (in short, I launch off at that point into European, inexplicably41 lofty subtleties42 a la George Sand), but now, now you are mine, you are my creation, you are pure, you are good, you are my noble wife.
‘Into my house come bold and free,
Its rightful mistress there to be’.”
Then we begin living together, go abroad and so on, and so on. In fact, in the end it seemed vulgar to me myself, and I began putting out my tongue at myself.
Besides, they won’t let her out, “the hussy!” I thought. They don’t let them go out very readily, especially in the evening (for some reason I fancied she would come in the evening, and at seven o’clock precisely). Though she did say she was not altogether a slave there yet, and had certain rights; so, h’m! Damn it all, she will come, she is sure to come!
It was a good thing, in fact, that Apollon distracted my attention at that time by his rudeness. He drove me beyond all patience! He was the bane of my life, the curse laid upon me by Providence43. We had been squabbling continually for years, and I hated him. My God, how I hated him! I believe I had never hated anyone in my life as I hated him, especially at some moments. He was an elderly, dignified44 man, who worked part of his time as a tailor. But for some unknown reason he despised me beyond all measure, and looked down upon me insufferably. Though, indeed, he looked down upon everyone. Simply to glance at that flaxen, smoothly45 brushed head, at the tuft of hair he combed up on his forehead and oiled with sunflower oil, at that dignified mouth, compressed into the shape of the letter V, made one feel one was confronting a man who never doubted of himself. He was a pedant46, to the most extreme point, the greatest pedant I had met on earth, and with that had a vanity only befitting Alexander of Macedon. He was in love with every button on his coat, every nail on his fingers — absolutely in love with them, and he looked it! In his behaviour to me he was a perfect tyrant47, he spoke48 very little to me, and if he chanced to glance at me he gave me a firm, majestically49 self- confident and invariably ironical50 look that drove me sometimes to fury. He did his work with the air of doing me the greatest favour, though he did scarcely anything for me, and did not, indeed, consider himself bound to do anything. There could be no doubt that he looked upon me as the greatest fool on earth, and that “he did not get rid of me” was simply that he could get wages from me every month. He consented to do nothing for me for seven roubles a month. Many sins should be forgiven me for what I suffered from him. My hatred51 reached such a point that sometimes his very step almost threw me into convulsions. What I loathed52 particularly was his lisp. His tongue must have been a little too long or something of that sort, for he continually lisped, and seemed to be very proud of it, imagining that it greatly added to his dignity. He spoke in a slow, measured tone, with his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed53 on the ground. He maddened me particularly when he read aloud the psalms54 to himself behind his partition. Many a battle I waged over that reading! But he was awfully55 fond of reading aloud in the evenings, in a slow, even, sing-song voice, as though over the dead. It is interesting that that is how he has ended: he hires himself out to read the psalms over the dead, and at the same time he kills rats and makes blacking. But at that time I could not get rid of him, it was as though he were chemically combined with my existence. Besides, nothing would have induced him to consent to leave me. I could not live in furnished lodgings57: my lodging56 was my private solitude58, my shell, my cave, in which I concealed59 myself from all mankind, and Apollon seemed to me, for some reason, an integral part of that flat, and for seven years I could not turn him away.
To be two or three days behind with his wages, for instance, was impossible. He would have made such a fuss, I should not have known where to hide my head. But I was so exasperated60 with everyone during those days, that I made up my mind for some reason and with some object to PUNISH Apollon and not to pay him for a fortnight the wages that were owing him. I had for a long time — for the last two years — been intending to do this, simply in order to teach him not to give himself airs with me, and to show him that if I liked I could withhold61 his wages. I purposed to say nothing to him about it, and was purposely silent indeed, in order to score off his pride and force him to be the first to speak of his wages. Then I would take the seven roubles out of a drawer, show him I have the money put aside on purpose, but that I won’t, I won’t, I simply won’t pay him his wages, I won’t just because that is “what I wish,” because “I am master, and it is for me to decide,” because he has been disrespectful, because he has been rude; but if he were to ask respectfully I might be softened62 and give it to him, otherwise he might wait another fortnight, another three weeks, a whole month . . . .
But angry as I was, yet he got the better of me. I could not hold out for four days. He began as he always did begin in such cases, for there had been such cases already, there had been attempts (and it may be observed I knew all this beforehand, I knew his nasty tactics by heart). He would begin by fixing upon me an exceedingly severe stare, keeping it up for several minutes at a time, particularly on meeting me or seeing me out of the house. If I held out and pretended not to notice these stares, he would, still in silence, proceed to further tortures. All at once, A PROPOS of nothing, he would walk softly and smoothly into my room, when I was pacing up and down or reading, stand at the door, one hand behind his back and one foot behind the other, and fix upon me a stare more than severe, utterly contemptuous. If I suddenly asked him what he wanted, he would make me no answer, but continue staring at me persistently63 for some seconds, then, with a peculiar64 compression of his lips and a most significant air, deliberately65 turn round and deliberately go back to his room. Two hours later he would come out again and again present himself before me in the same way. It had happened that in my fury I did not even ask him what he wanted, but simply raised my head sharply and imperiously and began staring back at him. So we stared at one another for two minutes; at last he turned with deliberation and dignity and went back again for two hours.
If I were still not brought to reason by all this, but persisted in my revolt, he would suddenly begin sighing while he looked at me, long, deep sighs as though measuring by them the depths of my moral degradation66, and, of course, it ended at last by his triumphing completely: I raged and shouted, but still was forced to do what he wanted.
This time the usual staring manoeuvres had scarcely begun when I lost my temper and flew at him in a fury. I was irritated beyond endurance apart from him.
“Stay,” I cried, in a frenzy67, as he was slowly and silently turning, with one hand behind his back, to go to his room. “Stay! Come back, come back, I tell you!” and I must have bawled68 so unnaturally69, that he turned round and even looked at me with some wonder. However, he persisted in saying nothing, and that infuriated me.
“How dare you come and look at me like that without being sent for? Answer!”
After looking at me calmly for half a minute, he began turning round again.
“Stay!” I roared, running up to him, “don’t stir! There. Answer, now: what did you come in to look at?”
“If you have any order to give me it’s my duty to carry it out,” he answered, after another silent pause, with a slow, measured lisp, raising his eyebrows70 and calmly twisting his head from one side to another, all this with exasperating71 composure.
“That’s not what I am asking you about, you torturer!” I shouted, turning crimson72 with anger. “I’ll tell you why you came here myself: you see, I don’t give you your wages, you are so proud you don’t want to bow down and ask for it, and so you come to punish me with your stupid stares, to worry me and you have no sus-pic-ion how stupid it is — stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! . . . ”
He would have turned round again without a word, but I seized him.
“Listen,” I shouted to him. “Here’s the money, do you see, here it is,” (I took it out of the table drawer); “here’s the seven roubles complete, but you are not going to have it, you . . . are . . . not . . . going . . . to . . . have it until you come respectfully with bowed head to beg my pardon. Do you hear?”
“That cannot be,” he answered, with the most unnatural self-confidence.
“It shall be so,” I said, “I give you my word of honour, it shall be!”
“And there’s nothing for me to beg your pardon for,” he went on, as though he had not noticed my exclamations73 at all. “Why, besides, you called me a ‘torturer,’ for which I can summon you at the police-station at any time for insulting behaviour.”
“Go, summon me,” I roared, “go at once, this very minute, this very second! You are a torturer all the same! a torturer!”
But he merely looked at me, then turned, and regardless of my loud calls to him, he walked to his room with an even step and without looking round.
“If it had not been for Liza nothing of this would have happened,” I decided74 inwardly. Then, after waiting a minute, I went myself behind his screen with a dignified and solemn air, though my heart was beating slowly and violently.
“Apollon,” I said quietly and emphatically, though I was breathless, “go at once without a minute’s delay and fetch the police-officer.”
He had meanwhile settled himself at his table, put on his spectacles and taken up some sewing. But, hearing my order, he burst into a guffaw75.
“At once, go this minute! Go on, or else you can’t imagine what will happen.”
“You are certainly out of your mind,” he observed, without even raising his head, lisping as deliberately as ever and threading his needle. “Whoever heard of a man sending for the police against himself? And as for being frightened — you are upsetting yourself about nothing, for nothing will come of it.”
“Go!” I shrieked76, clutching him by the shoulder. I felt I should strike him in a minute.
But I did not notice the door from the passage softly and slowly open at that instant and a figure come in, stop short, and begin staring at us in perplexity I glanced, nearly swooned with shame, and rushed back to my room. There, clutching at my hair with both hands, I leaned my head against the wall and stood motionless in that position.
Two minutes later I heard Apollon’s deliberate footsteps. “There is some woman asking for you,” he said, looking at me with peculiar severity. Then he stood aside and let in Liza. He would not go away, but stared at us sarcastically77.
“Go away, go away,” I commanded in desperation. At that moment my clock began whirring and wheezing78 and struck seven.
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收听单词发音
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1
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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alleging
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| 断言，宣称，辩解( allege的现在分词 ) | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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denser
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| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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incessantly
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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viler
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| adj.卑鄙的( vile的比较级 )；可耻的；极坏的；非常讨厌的 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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vileness
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| n.讨厌，卑劣 | |
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idyllic
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| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
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affectedly
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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inexplicably
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| adv.无法说明地，难以理解地，令人难以理解的是 | |
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subtleties
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| 细微( subtlety的名词复数 )； 精细； 巧妙； 细微的差别等 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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pedant
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| n.迂儒；卖弄学问的人 | |
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tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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54
psalms
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| n.赞美诗( psalm的名词复数 )；圣诗；圣歌；(中的) | |
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55
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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56
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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58
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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59
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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60
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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61
withhold
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| v.拒绝，不给；使停止，阻挡 | |
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62
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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63
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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64
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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66
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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67
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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68
bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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69
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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70
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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71
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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72
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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73
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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74
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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75
guffaw
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| n.哄笑；突然的大笑 | |
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76
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77
sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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78
wheezing
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 )；哮鸣 | |
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