The door opens and in there walks a tall, lanky7 figure straight as a poker8, with a ginger-coloured hat and a smart overcoat, wonderfully suggestive of a journalist in Jules Verne or on the comic stage.
The figure stands still in the middle of the compartment for a long while, breathing heavily, screwing up his eyes and peering at the seats.
“No, wrong again!” he mutters. “What the deuce! It’s positively9 revolting! No, the wrong one again!”
One of the passengers stares at the figure and utters a shout of joy:
“Ivan Alexyevitch! what brings you here? Is it you?”
The poker-like gentleman starts, stares blankly at the passenger, and recognizing him claps his hands with delight.
“Ha! Pyotr Petrovitch,” he says. “How many summers, how many winters! I didn’t know you were in this train.”
“How are you getting on?”
“I am all right; the only thing is, my dear fellow, I’ve lost my compartment and I simply can’t find it. What an idiot I am! I ought to be thrashed!”
The poker-like gentleman sways a little unsteadily and sniggers.
“Queer things do happen!” he continues. “I stepped out just after the second bell to get a glass of brandy. I got it, of course. Well, I thought, since it’s a long way to the next station, it would be as well to have a second glass. While I was thinking about it and drinking it the third bell rang. . . . I ran like mad and jumped into the first carriage. I am an idiot! I am the son of a hen!”
“But you seem in very good spirits,” observes Pyotr Petrovitch. “Come and sit down! There’s room and a welcome.”
“No, no. . . . I’m off to look for my carriage. Good-bye!”
“You’ll fall between the carriages in the dark if you don’t look out! Sit down, and when we get to a station you’ll find your own compartment. Sit down!”
Ivan Alexyevitch heaves a sigh and irresolutely10 sits down facing Pyotr Petrovitch. He is visibly excited, and fidgets as though he were sitting on thorns.
“Where are you travelling to?” Pyotr Petrovitch enquires11.
“I? Into space. There is such a turmoil12 in my head that I couldn’t tell where I am going myself. I go where fate takes me. Ha-ha! My dear fellow, have you ever seen a happy fool? No? Well, then, take a look at one. You behold13 the happiest of mortals! Yes! Don’t you see something from my face?”
“Well, one can see you’re a bit . . . a tiny bit so-so.”
“I dare say I look awfully14 stupid just now. Ach! it’s a pity I haven’t a looking-glass, I should like to look at my counting-house. My dear fellow, I feel I am turning into an idiot, honour bright. Ha-ha! Would you believe it, I’m on my honeymoon15. Am I not the son of a hen?”
“You? Do you mean to say you are married?”
“To-day, my dear boy. We came away straight after the wedding.”
Congratulations and the usual questions follow. “Well, you are a fellow!” laughs Pyotr Petrovitch. “That’s why you are rigged out such a dandy.”
“Yes, indeed. . . . To complete the illusion, I’ve even sprinkled myself with scent16. I am over my ears in vanity! No care, no thought, nothing but a sensation of something or other . . . deuce knows what to call it . . . beatitude or something? I’ve never felt so grand in my life!”
Ivan Alexyevitch shuts his eyes and waggles his head.
“I’m revoltingly happy,” he says. “Just think; in a minute I shall go to my compartment. There on the seat near the window is sitting a being who is, so to say, devoted17 to you with her whole being. A little blonde with a little nose . . . little fingers. . . . My little darling! My angel! My little poppet! Phylloxera of my soul! And her little foot! Good God! A little foot not like our beetle-crushers, but something miniature, fairylike, allegorical. I could pick it up and eat it, that little foot! Oh, but you don’t understand! You’re a materialist18, of course, you begin analyzing19 at once, and one thing and another. You are cold-hearted bachelors, that’s what you are! When you get married you’ll think of me. ‘Where’s Ivan Alexyevitch now?’ you’ll say. Yes; so in a minute I’m going to my compartment. There she is waiting for me with impatience20 . . . in joyful21 anticipation22 of my appearance. She’ll have a smile to greet me. I sit down beside her and take her chin with my two fingers.”
Ivan Alexyevitch waggles his head and goes off into a chuckle23 of delight.
“Then I lay my noddle on her shoulder and put my arm round her waist. Around all is silence, you know . . . poetic24 twilight. I could embrace the whole world at such a moment. Pyotr Petrovitch, allow me to embrace you!”
“Delighted, I’m sure.” The two friends embrace while the passengers laugh in chorus. And the happy bridegroom continues:
“And to complete the idiocy25, or, as the novelists say, to complete the illusion, one goes to the refreshment26-room and tosses off two or three glasses. And then something happens in your head and your heart, finer than you can read of in a fairy tale. I am a man of no importance, but I feel as though I were limitless: I embrace the whole world!”
The passengers, looking at the tipsy and blissful bridegroom, are infected by his cheerfulness and no longer feel sleepy. Instead of one listener, Ivan Alexyevitch has now an audience of five. He wriggles27 and splutters, gesticulates, and prattles28 on without ceasing. He laughs and they all laugh.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, don’t think so much! Damn all this analysis! If you want a drink, drink, no need to philosophize as to whether it’s bad for you or not. . . . Damn all this philosophy and psychology29!”
The guard walks through the compartment.
“My dear fellow,” the bridegroom addresses him, “when you pass through the carriage No. 209 look out for a lady in a grey hat with a white bird and tell her I’m here!”
“Yes, sir. Only there isn’t a No. 209 in this train; there’s 219!”
“Well, 219, then! It’s all the same. Tell that lady, then, that her husband is all right!”
Ivan Alexyevitch suddenly clutches his head and groans30:
“Husband. . . . Lady. . . . All in a minute! Husband. . . . Ha-ha! I am a puppy that needs thrashing, and here I am a husband! Ach, idiot! But think of her! . . . Yesterday she was a little girl, a midget . . . it s simply incredible!”
“Nowadays it really seems strange to see a happy man,” observes one of the passengers; “one as soon expects to see a white elephant.”
“Yes, and whose fault is it?” says Ivan Alexyevitch, stretching his long legs and thrusting out his feet with their very pointed31 toes. “If you are not happy it’s your own fault! Yes, what else do you suppose it is? Man is the creator of his own happiness. If you want to be happy you will be, but you don’t want to be! You obstinately32 turn away from happiness.”
“Why, what next! How do you make that out?”
“Very simply. Nature has ordained33 that at a certain stage in his life man should love. When that time comes you should love like a house on fire, but you won’t heed34 the dictates35 of nature, you keep waiting for something. What’s more, it’s laid down by law that the normal man should enter upon matrimony. There’s no happiness without marriage. When the propitious36 moment has come, get married. There’s no use in shilly-shallying. . . . But you don’t get married, you keep waiting for something! Then the Scriptures37 tell us that ‘wine maketh glad the heart of man.’ . . . If you feel happy and you want to feel better still, then go to the refreshment bar and have a drink. The great thing is not to be too clever, but to follow the beaten track! The beaten track is a grand thing!”
“You say that man is the creator of his own happiness. How the devil is he the creator of it when a toothache or an ill-natured mother-in-law is enough to scatter38 his happiness to the winds? Everything depends on chance. If we had an accident at this moment you’d sing a different tune39.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” retorts the bridegroom. “Railway accidents only happen once a year. I’m not afraid of an accident, for there is no reason for one. Accidents are exceptional! Confound them! I don’t want to talk of them! Oh, I believe we’re stopping at a station.”
“Where are you going now?” asks Pyotr Petrovitch. “To Moscow or somewhere further south?
“Why, bless you! How could I go somewhere further south, when I’m on my way to the north?”
“But Moscow isn’t in the north.”
“I know that, but we’re on our way to Petersburg,” says Ivan Alexyevitch.
“We are going to Moscow, mercy on us!”
“To Moscow? What do you mean?” says the bridegroom in amazement40.
“It’s queer. . . . For what station did you take your ticket?”
“For Petersburg.”
“In that case I congratulate you. You’ve got into the wrong train.”
There follows a minute of silence. The bridegroom gets up and looks blankly round the company.
“Yes, yes,” Pyotr Petrovitch explains. “You must have jumped into the wrong train at Bologoe. . . . After your glass of brandy you succeeded in getting into the down-train.”
Ivan Alexyevitch turns pale, clutches his head, and begins pacing rapidly about the carriage.
“Ach, idiot that I am!” he says in indignation. “Scoundrel! The devil devour41 me! Whatever am I to do now? Why, my wife is in that train! She’s there all alone, expecting me, consumed by anxiety. Ach, I’m a motley fool!”
The bridegroom falls on the seat and writhes42 as though someone had trodden on his corns.
“I am un-unhappy man!” he moans. “What am I to do, what am I to do?”
“There, there!” the passengers try to console him. “It’s all right . . . . You must telegraph to your wife and try to change into the Petersburg express. In that way you’ll overtake her.”
“The Petersburg express!” weeps the bridegroom, the creator of his own happiness. “And how am I to get a ticket for the Petersburg express? All my money is with my wife.”
The passengers, laughing and whispering together, make a collection and furnish the happy man with funds.
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收听单词发音
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1
junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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2
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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3
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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4
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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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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6
snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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7
lanky
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| adj.瘦长的 | |
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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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9
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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10
irresolutely
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| adv.优柔寡断地 | |
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11
enquires
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| 打听( enquire的第三人称单数 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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12
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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13
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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14
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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15
honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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16
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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17
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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18
materialist
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| n. 唯物主义者 | |
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19
analyzing
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| v.分析；分析( analyze的现在分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析n.分析 | |
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20
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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21
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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22
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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23
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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24
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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25
idiocy
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| n.愚蠢 | |
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26
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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27
wriggles
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| n.蠕动，扭动( wriggle的名词复数 )v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的第三人称单数 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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28
prattles
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的第三人称单数 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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29
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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30
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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31
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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32
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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33
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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34
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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35
dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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36
propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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37
scriptures
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| 经文，圣典( scripture的名词复数 )； 经典 | |
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38
scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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39
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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40
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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41
devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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42
writhes
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的第三人称单数 ) | |
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