Sasha Uskov, the young man of twenty-five who was the cause of all the commotion3, had arrived some time before, and by the advice of kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch, his uncle, who was taking his part, he sat meekly4 in the hall by the door leading to the study, and prepared himself to make an open, candid5 explanation.
The other side of the door, in the study, a family council was being held. The subject under discussion was an exceedingly disagreeable and delicate one. Sasha Uskov had cashed at one of the banks a false promissory note, and it had become due for payment three days before, and now his two paternal6 uncles and Ivan Markovitch, the brother of his dead mother, were deciding the question whether they should pay the money and save the family honour, or wash their hands of it and leave the case to go for trial.
To outsiders who have no personal interest in the matter such questions seem simple; for those who are so unfortunate as to have to decide them in earnest they are extremely difficult. The uncles had been talking for a long time, but the problem seemed no nearer decision.
“My friends!” said the uncle who was a colonel, and there was a note of exhaustion7 and bitterness in his voice. “Who says that family honour is a mere8 convention? I don’t say that at all. I am only warning you against a false view; I am pointing out the possibility of an unpardonable mistake. How can you fail to see it? I am not speaking Chinese; I am speaking Russian!”
“My dear fellow, we do understand,” Ivan Markovitch protested mildly.
“How can you understand if you say that I don’t believe in family honour? I repeat once more: fa-mil-y ho-nour fal-sely un-der-stood is a prejudice! Falsely understood! That’s what I say: whatever may be the motives9 for screening a scoundrel, whoever he may be, and helping10 him to escape punishment, it is contrary to law and unworthy of a gentleman. It’s not saving the family honour; it’s civic11 cowardice12! Take the army, for instance. . . . The honour of the army is more precious to us than any other honour, yet we don’t screen our guilty members, but condemn13 them. And does the honour of the army suffer in consequence? Quite the opposite!”
The other paternal uncle, an official in the Treasury14, a taciturn, dull-witted, and rheumatic man, sat silent, or spoke15 only of the fact that the Uskovs’ name would get into the newspapers if the case went for trial. His opinion was that the case ought to be hushed up from the first and not become public property; but, apart from publicity16 in the newspapers, he advanced no other argument in support of this opinion.
The maternal17 uncle, kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch, spoke smoothly18, softly, and with a tremor19 in his voice. He began with saying that youth has its rights and its peculiar20 temptations. Which of us has not been young, and who has not been led astray? To say nothing of ordinary mortals, even great men have not escaped errors and mistakes in their youth. Take, for instance, the biography of great writers. Did not every one of them gamble, drink, and draw down upon himself the anger of right-thinking people in his young days? If Sasha’s error bordered upon crime, they must remember that Sasha had received practically no education; he had been expelled from the high school in the fifth class; he had lost his parents in early childhood, and so had been left at the tenderest age without guidance and good, benevolent21 influences. He was nervous, excitable, had no firm ground under his feet, and, above all, he had been unlucky. Even if he were guilty, anyway he deserved indulgence and the sympathy of all compassionate22 souls. He ought, of course, to be punished, but he was punished as it was by his conscience and the agonies he was enduring now while awaiting the sentence of his relations. The comparison with the army made by the Colonel was delightful23, and did credit to his lofty intelligence; his appeal to their feeling of public duty spoke for the chivalry24 of his soul, but they must not forget that in each individual the citizen is closely Clinked with the Christian25. . . .
“Shall we be false to civic duty,” Ivan Markovitch exclaimed passionately26, “if instead of punishing an erring27 boy we hold out to him a helping hand?”
Ivan Markovitch talked further of family honour. He had not the honour to belong to the Uskov family himself, but he knew their distinguished28 family went back to the thirteenth century; he did not forget for a minute, either, that his precious, beloved sister had been the wife of one of the representatives of that name. In short, the family was dear to him for many reasons, and he refused to admit the idea that, for the sake of a paltry29 fifteen hundred roubles, a blot30 should be cast on the escutcheon that was beyond all price. If all the motives he had brought forward were not sufficiently31 convincing, he, Ivan Markovitch, in conclusion, begged his listeners to ask themselves what was meant by crime? Crime is an immoral32 act founded upon ill-will. But is the will of man free? Philosophy has not yet given a positive answer to that question. Different views were held by the learned. The latest school of Lombroso, for instance, denies the freedom of the will, and considers every crime as the product of the purely33 anatomical peculiarities34 of the individual.
“Ivan Markovitch,” said the Colonel, in a voice of entreaty35, “we are talking seriously about an important matter, and you bring in Lombroso, you clever fellow. Think a little, what are you saying all this for? Can you imagine that all your thunderings and rhetoric37 will furnish an answer to the question?”
Sasha Uskov sat at the door and listened. He felt neither terror, shame, nor depression, but only weariness and inward emptiness. It seemed to him that it made absolutely no difference to him whether they forgave him or not; he had come here to hear his sentence and to explain himself simply because kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch had begged him to do so. He was not afraid of the future. It made no difference to him where he was: here in the hall, in prison, or in Siberia.
“If Siberia, then let it be Siberia, damn it all!”
He was sick of life and found it insufferably hard. He was inextricably involved in debt; he had not a farthing in his pocket; his family had become detestable to him; he would have to part from his friends and his women sooner or later, as they had begun to be too contemptuous of his sponging on them. The future looked black.
Sasha was indifferent, and was only disturbed by one circumstance; the other side of the door they were calling him a scoundrel and a criminal. Every minute he was on the point of jumping up, bursting into the study and shouting in answer to the detestable metallic38 voice of the Colonel:
“You are lying!”
“Criminal” is a dreadful word—that is what murderers, thieves, robbers are; in fact, wicked and morally hopeless people. And Sasha was very far from being all that. . . . It was true he owed a great deal and did not pay his debts. But debt is not a crime, and it is unusual for a man not to be in debt. The Colonel and Ivan Markovitch were both in debt. . . .
“What have I done wrong besides?” Sasha wondered.
He had discounted a forged note. But all the young men he knew did the same. Handrikov and Von Burst always forged IOU’s from their parents or friends when their allowances were not paid at the regular time, and then when they got their money from home they redeemed39 them before they became due. Sasha had done the same, but had not redeemed the IOU because he had not got the money which Handrikov had promised to lend him. He was not to blame; it was the fault of circumstances. It was true that the use of another person’s signature was considered reprehensible40; but, still, it was not a crime but a generally accepted dodge41, an ugly formality which injured no one and was quite harmless, for in forging the Colonel’s signature Sasha had had no intention of causing anybody damage or loss.
“No, it doesn’t mean that I am a criminal . . .” thought Sasha. “And it’s not in my character to bring myself to commit a crime. I am soft, emotional. . . . When I have the money I help the poor. . . .”
Sasha was musing42 after this fashion while they went on talking the other side of the door.
“But, my friends, this is endless,” the Colonel declared, getting excited. “Suppose we were to forgive him and pay the money. You know he would not give up leading a dissipated life, squandering43 money, making debts, going to our tailors and ordering suits in our names! Can you guarantee that this will be his last prank44? As far as I am concerned, I have no faith whatever in his reforming!”
The official of the Treasury muttered something in reply; after him Ivan Markovitch began talking blandly45 and suavely46 again. The Colonel moved his chair impatiently and drowned the other’s words with his detestable metallic voice. At last the door opened and Ivan Markovitch came out of the study; there were patches of red on his lean shaven face.
“Come along,” he said, taking Sasha by the hand. “Come and speak frankly47 from your heart. Without pride, my dear boy, humbly48 and from your heart.”
Sasha went into the study. The official of the Treasury was sitting down; the Colonel was standing49 before the table with one hand in his pocket and one knee on a chair. It was smoky and stifling50 in the study. Sasha did not look at the official or the Colonel; he felt suddenly ashamed and uncomfortable. He looked uneasily at Ivan Markovitch and muttered:
“I’ll pay it . . . I’ll give it back. . . .”
“What did you expect when you discounted the IOU?” he heard a metallic voice.
“I . . . Handrikov promised to lend me the money before now.”
Sasha could say no more. He went out of the study and sat down again on the chair near the door.
He would have been glad to go away altogether at once, but he was choking with hatred51 and he awfully52 wanted to remain, to tear the Colonel to pieces, to say something rude to him. He sat trying to think of something violent and effective to say to his hated uncle, and at that moment a woman’s figure, shrouded53 in the twilight54, appeared at the drawing-room door. It was the Colonel’s wife. She beckoned55 Sasha to her, and, wringing56 her hands, said, weeping:
“Alexandre, I know you don’t like me, but . . . listen to me; listen, I beg you. . . . But, my dear, how can this have happened? Why, it’s awful, awful! For goodness’ sake, beg them, defend yourself, entreat36 them.”
Sasha looked at her quivering shoulders, at the big tears that were rolling down her cheeks, heard behind his back the hollow, nervous voices of worried and exhausted57 people, and shrugged58 his shoulders. He had not in the least expected that his aristocratic relations would raise such a tempest over a paltry fifteen hundred roubles! He could not understand her tears nor the quiver of their voices.
An hour later he heard that the Colonel was getting the best of it; the uncles were finally inclining to let the case go for trial.
“The matter’s settled,” said the Colonel, sighing. “Enough.”
After this decision all the uncles, even the emphatic59 Colonel, became noticeably depressed60. A silence followed.
“Merciful Heavens!” sighed Ivan Markovitch. “My poor sister!”
And he began saying in a subdued61 voice that most likely his sister, Sasha’s mother, was present unseen in the study at that moment. He felt in his soul how the unhappy, saintly woman was weeping, grieving, and begging for her boy. For the sake of her peace beyond the grave, they ought to spare Sasha.
The sound of a muffled62 sob63 was heard. Ivan Markovitch was weeping and muttering something which it was impossible to catch through the door. The Colonel got up and paced from corner to corner. The long conversation began over again.
But then the clock in the drawing-room struck two. The family council was over. To avoid seeing the person who had moved him to such wrath64, the Colonel went from the study, not into the hall, but into the vestibule. . . . Ivan Markovitch came out into the hall. . . . He was agitated65 and rubbing his hands joyfully66. His tear-stained eyes looked good-humoured and his mouth was twisted into a smile.
“Capital,” he said to Sasha. “Thank God! You can go home, my dear, and sleep tranquilly67. We have decided68 to pay the sum, but on condition that you repent69 and come with me tomorrow into the country and set to work.”
A minute later Ivan Markovitch and Sasha in their great-coats and caps were going down the stairs. The uncle was muttering something edifying70. Sasha did not listen, but felt as though some uneasy weight were gradually slipping off his shoulders. They had forgiven him; he was free! A gust71 of joy sprang up within him and sent a sweet chill to his heart. He longed to breathe, to move swiftly, to live! Glancing at the street lamps and the black sky, he remembered that Von Burst was celebrating his name-day that evening at the “Bear,” and again a rush of joy flooded his soul. . . .
“I am going!” he decided.
But then he remembered he had not a farthing, that the companions he was going to would despise him at once for his empty pockets. He must get hold of some money, come what may!
“Uncle, lend me a hundred roubles,” he said to Ivan Markovitch.
His uncle, surprised, looked into his face and backed against a lamp-post.
“Give it to me,” said Sasha, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other and beginning to pant. “Uncle, I entreat you, give me a hundred roubles.”
His face worked; he trembled, and seemed on the point of attacking his uncle. . . .
“Won’t you?” he kept asking, seeing that his uncle was still amazed and did not understand. “Listen. If you don’t, I’ll give myself up tomorrow! I won’t let you pay the IOU! I’ll present another false note tomorrow!”
Petrified72, muttering something incoherent in his horror, Ivan Markovitch took a hundred-rouble note out of his pocket-book and gave it to Sasha. The young man took it and walked rapidly away from him. . . .
Taking a sledge73, Sasha grew calmer, and felt a rush of joy within him again. The “rights of youth” of which kind-hearted Ivan Markovitch had spoken at the family council woke up and asserted themselves. Sasha pictured the drinking-party before him, and, among the bottles, the women, and his friends, the thought flashed through his mind:
“Now I see that I am a criminal; yes, I am a criminal.”
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收听单词发音
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1
initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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6
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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8
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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13
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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15
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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16
publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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17
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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18
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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24
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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erring
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| 做错事的，错误的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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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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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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38
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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redeemed
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| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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reprehensible
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| adj.该受责备的 | |
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41
dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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42
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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43
squandering
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的现在分词 ) | |
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44
prank
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| n.开玩笑，恶作剧；v.装饰；打扮；炫耀自己 | |
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45
blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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46
suavely
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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48
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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49
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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50
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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51
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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52
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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53
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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54
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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55
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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57
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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58
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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59
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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60
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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61
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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62
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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63
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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64
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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65
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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66
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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67
tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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68
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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69
repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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70
edifying
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| adj.有教训意味的，教训性的，有益的v.开导，启发( edify的现在分词 ) | |
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71
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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72
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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73
sledge
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| n.雪橇，大锤；v.用雪橇搬运，坐雪橇往 | |
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