It was dark outside. She could see nothing but the outlines of the trees and the roof of the stables. There was a faint pallor in the east, but this pallor was beginning to be clouded over. There was perfect stillness in the air wrapped in slumber5 and darkness. Even the watchman, paid to disturb the stillness of night, was silent; even the corncrake—the only wild creature of the feathered tribe that does not shun6 the proximity7 of summer visitors—was silent.
The stillness was broken by Marya Mihalovna herself. Standing8 at the window and gazing into the yard, she suddenly uttered a cry. She fancied that from the flower garden with the gaunt, clipped poplar, a dark figure was creeping towards the house. For the first minute she thought it was a cow or a horse, then, rubbing her eyes, she distinguished9 clearly the outlines of a man.
Then she fancied the dark figure approached the window of the kitchen and, standing still a moment, apparently10 undecided, put one foot on the window ledge11 and disappeared into the darkness of the window.
“A burglar!” flashed into her mind and a deathly pallor overspread her face.
And in one instant her imagination had drawn12 the picture so dreaded13 by lady visitors in country places—a burglar creeps into the kitchen, from the kitchen into the dining-room . . . the silver in the cupboard . . . next into the bedroom . . . an axe14 . . . the face of a brigand15 . . . jewelry16. . . . Her knees gave way under her and a shiver ran down her back.
“Vassya!” she said, shaking her husband, “Basile! Vassily Prokovitch! Ah! mercy on us, he might be dead! Wake up, Basile, I beseech17 you!”
“W-well?” grunted19 the assistant procurator, with a deep inward breath and a munching20 sound.
“For God’s sake, wake up! A burglar has got into the kitchen! I was standing at the window looking out and someone got in at the window. He will get into the dining-room next . . . the spoons are in the cupboard! Basile! They broke into Mavra Yegorovna’s last year.”
“Wha—what’s the matter?”
“Heavens! he does not understand. Do listen, you stupid! I tell you I’ve just seen a man getting in at the kitchen window! Pelagea will be frightened and . . . and the silver is in the cupboard!”
“Stuff and nonsense!”
“Basile, this is unbearable21! I tell you of a real danger and you sleep and grunt18! What would you have? Would you have us robbed and murdered?”
The assistant procurator slowly got up and sat on the bed, filling the air with loud yawns.
“Goodness knows what creatures women are!” he muttered. “Can’t leave one in peace even at night! To wake a man for such nonsense!”
“But, Basile, I swear I saw a man getting in at the window!”
“Well, what of it? Let him get in. . . . That’s pretty sure to be Pelagea’s sweetheart, the fireman.”
“What! what did you say?”
“I say it’s Pelagea’s fireman come to see her.”
“Worse than ever!” shrieked22 Marya Mihalovna. “That’s worse than a burglar! I won’t put up with cynicism in my house!”
“Hoity-toity! We are virtuous24! . . . Won’t put up with cynicism? As though it were cynicism! What’s the use of firing off those foreign words? My dear girl, it’s a thing that has happened ever since the world began, sanctified by tradition. What’s a fireman for if not to make love to the cook?”
“No, Basile! It seems you don’t know me! I cannot face the idea of such a . . . such a . . . in my house. You must go this minute into the kitchen and tell him to go away! This very minute! And to-morrow I’ll tell Pelagea that she must not dare to demean herself by such proceedings25! When I am dead you may allow immorality27 in your house, but you shan’t do it now! . . . Please go!”
“Damn it,” grumbled28 Gagin, annoyed. “Consider with your microscopic29 female brain, what am I to go for?”
“Basile, I shall faint! . . .”
Gagin cursed, put on his slippers, cursed again, and set off to the kitchen. It was as dark as the inside of a barrel, and the assistant procurator had to feel his way. He groped his way to the door of the nursery and waked the nurse.
“Vassilissa,” he said, “you took my dressing-gown to brush last night—where is it?”
“I gave it to Pelagea to brush, sir.”
“What carelessness! You take it away and don’t put it back—now I’ve to go without a dressing-gown!”
On reaching the kitchen, he made his way to the corner in which on a box under a shelf of saucepans the cook slept.
“Pelagea,” he said, feeling her shoulder and giving it a shake, “Pelagea! Why are you pretending? You are not asleep! Who was it got in at your window just now?”
“Mm . . . m . . . good morning! Got in at the window? Who could get in?”
“Oh come, it’s no use your trying to keep it up! You’d better tell your scamp to clear out while he can! Do you hear? He’s no business to be here!”
“Are you out of your senses, sir, bless you? Do you think I’d be such a fool? Here one’s running about all day long, never a minute to sit down and then spoken to like this at night! Four roubles a month . . . and to find my own tea and sugar and this is all the credit I get for it! I used to live in a tradesman’s house, and never met with such insult there!”
“Come, come—no need to go over your grievances30! This very minute your grenadier must turn out! Do you understand?”
“You ought to be ashamed, sir,” said Pelagea, and he could hear the tears in her voice. “Gentlefolks . . . educated, and yet not a notion that with our hard lot . . . in our life of toil”—she burst into tears. “It’s easy to insult us. There’s no one to stand up for us.”
“Come, come . . . I don’t mind! Your mistress sent me. You may let a devil in at the window for all I care!”
There was nothing left for the assistant procurator but to acknowledge himself in the wrong and go back to his spouse31.
“I say, Pelagea,” he said, “you had my dressing-gown to brush. Where is it?”
“Oh, I am so sorry, sir; I forgot to put it on your chair. It’s hanging on a peg32 near the stove.”
Gagin felt for the dressing-gown by the stove, put it on, and went quietly back to his room.
When her husband went out Marya Mihalovna got into bed and waited. For the first three minutes her mind was at rest, but after that she began to feel uneasy.
“What a long time he’s gone,” she thought. “It’s all right if he is there . . . that immoral26 man . . . but if it’s a burglar?”
And again her imagination drew a picture of her husband going into the dark kitchen . . . a blow with an axe . . . dying without uttering a single sound . . . a pool of blood! . . .
Five minutes passed . . . five and a half . . . at last six. . . . A cold sweat came out on her forehead.
“Basile!” she shrieked, “Basile!”
“What are you shouting for? I am here.” She heard her husband’s voice and steps. “Are you being murdered?”
The assistant procurator went up to the bedstead and sat down on the edge of it.
“There’s nobody there at all,” he said. “It was your fancy, you queer creature. . . . You can sleep easy, your fool of a Pelagea is as virtuous as her mistress. What a coward you are! What a . . . .”
And the deputy procurator began teasing his wife. He was wide awake now and did not want to go to sleep again.
“You are a coward!” he laughed. “You’d better go to the doctor to-morrow and tell him about your hallucinations. You are a neurotic33!”
“What a smell of tar,” said his wife—“tar or something . . . onion . . . cabbage soup!”
“Y-yes! There is a smell . . . I am not sleepy. I say, I’ll light the candle. . . . Where are the matches? And, by the way, I’ll show you the photograph of the procurator of the Palace of Justice. He gave us all a photograph when he said good-bye to us yesterday, with his autograph.”
Gagin struck a match against the wall and lighted a candle. But before he had moved a step from the bed to fetch the photographs he heard behind him a piercing, heartrending shriek23. Looking round, he saw his wife’s large eyes fastened upon him, full of amazement34, horror, and wrath35. . . .
“You took your dressing-gown off in the kitchen?” she said, turning pale.
“Why?”
“Look at yourself!”
The deputy procurator looked down at himself, and gasped36.
Flung over his shoulders was not his dressing-gown, but the fireman’s overcoat. How had it come on his shoulders? While he was settling that question, his wife’s imagination was drawing another picture, awful and impossible: darkness, stillness, whispering, and so on, and so on.
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收听单词发音
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1
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2
frivolity
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| n.轻松的乐事，兴高采烈；轻浮的举止 | |
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3
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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shun
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| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
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7
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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8
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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9
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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10
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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11
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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12
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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13
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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14
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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15
brigand
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| n.土匪，强盗 | |
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16
jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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17
beseech
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| v.祈求，恳求 | |
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18
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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19
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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20
munching
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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21
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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22
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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24
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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25
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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26
immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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27
immorality
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| n. 不道德, 无道义 | |
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28
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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29
microscopic
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| adj.微小的，细微的，极小的，显微的 | |
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30
grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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31
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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32
peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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33
neurotic
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| adj.神经病的，神经过敏的；n.神经过敏者，神经病患者 | |
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34
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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35
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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36
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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