“I forgot to look at the newspaper today,” his wife said to him as she cleared the table. “Look and see whether the list of drawings is there.”
“Yes, it is,” said Ivan Dmitritch; “but hasn’t your ticket lapsed1?”
“No; I took the interest on Tuesday.”
“What is the number?”
“Series 9,499, number 26.”
“All right... we will look... 9,499 and 26.”
Ivan Dmitritch had no faith in lottery2 luck, and would not, as a rule, have consented to look at the lists of winning numbers, but now, as he had nothing else to do and as the newspaper was before his eyes, he passed his finger downwards3 along the column of numbers. And immediately, as though in mockery of his scepticism, no further than the second line from the top, his eye was caught by the figure 9,499! Unable to believe his eyes, he hurriedly dropped the paper on his knees without looking to see the number of the ticket, and, just as though some one had given him a douche of cold water, he felt an agreeable chill in the pit of the stomach; tingling5 and terrible and sweet!
“Masha, 9,499 is there!” he said in a hollow voice.
His wife looked at his astonished and panic-stricken face, and realized that he was not joking.
“9,499?” she asked, turning pale and dropping the folded tablecloth6 on the table.
“Yes, yes... it really is there!”
“And the number of the ticket?”
“Oh, yes! There’s the number of the ticket too. But stay... wait! No, I say! Anyway, the number of our series is there! Anyway, you understand....”
Looking at his wife, Ivan Dmitritch gave a broad, senseless smile, like a baby when a bright object is shown it. His wife smiled too; it was as pleasant to her as to him that he only mentioned the series, and did not try to find out the number of the winning ticket. To torment7 and tantalize8 oneself with hopes of possible fortune is so sweet, so thrilling!
“It is our series,” said Ivan Dmitritch, after a long silence. “So there is a probability that we have won. It’s only a probability, but there it is!”
“Well, now look!”
“Wait a little. We have plenty of time to be disappointed. It’s on the second line from the top, so the prize is seventy-five thousand. That’s not money, but power, capital! And in a minute I shall look at the list, and there—26! Eh? I say, what if we really have won?”
The husband and wife began laughing and staring at one another in silence. The possibility of winning bewildered them; they could not have said, could not have dreamed, what they both needed that seventy-five thousand for, what they would buy, where they would go. They thought only of the figures 9,499 and 75,000 and pictured them in their imagination, while somehow they could not think of the happiness itself which was so possible.
Ivan Dmitritch, holding the paper in his hand, walked several times from corner to corner, and only when he had recovered from the first impression began dreaming a little.
“And if we have won,” he said—“why, it will be a new life, it will be a transformation9! The ticket is yours, but if it were mine I should, first of all, of course, spend twenty-five thousand on real property in the shape of an estate; ten thousand on immediate4 expenses, new furnishing... travelling... paying debts, and so on.... The other forty thousand I would put in the bank and get interest on it.”
“Yes, an estate, that would be nice,” said his wife, sitting down and dropping her hands in her lap.
“Somewhere in the Tula or Oryol provinces.... In the first place we shouldn’t need a summer villa10, and besides, it would always bring in an income.”
And pictures came crowding on his imagination, each more gracious and poetical11 than the last. And in all these pictures he saw himself well-fed, serene12, healthy, felt warm, even hot! Here, after eating a summer soup, cold as ice, he lay on his back on the burning sand close to a stream or in the garden under a lime-tree.... It is hot.... His little boy and girl are crawling about near him, digging in the sand or catching13 ladybirds in the grass. He dozes14 sweetly, thinking of nothing, and feeling all over that he need not go to the office today, tomorrow, or the day after. Or, tired of lying still, he goes to the hayfield, or to the forest for mushrooms, or watches the peasants catching fish with a net. When the sun sets he takes a towel and soap and saunters to the bathing-shed, where he undresses at his leisure, slowly rubs his bare chest with his hands, and goes into the water. And in the water, near the opaque15 soapy circles, little fish flit to and fro and green water-weeds nod their heads. After bathing there is tea with cream and milk rolls.... In the evening a walk or vint with the neighbours.
“Yes, it would be nice to buy an estate,” said his wife, also dreaming, and from her face it was evident that she was enchanted16 by her thoughts.
Ivan Dmitritch pictured to himself autumn with its rains, its cold evenings, and its St. Martin’s summer. At that season he would have to take longer walks about the garden and beside the river, so as to get thoroughly17 chilled, and then drink a big glass of vodka and eat a salted mushroom or a soused cucumber, and then—drink another.... The children would come running from the kitchen-garden, bringing a carrot and a radish smelling of fresh earth.... And then, he would lie stretched full length on the sofa, and in leisurely18 fashion turn over the pages of some illustrated19 magazine, or, covering his face with it and unbuttoning his waistcoat, give himself up to slumber20.
The St. Martin’s summer is followed by cloudy, gloomy weather. It rains day and night, the bare trees weep, the wind is damp and cold. The dogs, the horses, the fowls—all are wet, depressed21, downcast. There is nowhere to walk; one can’t go out for days together; one has to pace up and down the room, looking despondently22 at the grey window. It is dreary23!
Ivan Dmitritch stopped and looked at his wife.
“I should go abroad, you know, Masha,” he said.
And he began thinking how nice it would be in late autumn to go abroad somewhere to the South of France... to Italy.... to India!
“I should certainly go abroad too,” his wife said. “But look at the number of the ticket!”
“Wait, wait!...”
He walked about the room and went on thinking. It occurred to him: what if his wife really did go abroad? It is pleasant to travel alone, or in the society of light, careless women who live in the present, and not such as think and talk all the journey about nothing but their children, sigh, and tremble with dismay over every farthing. Ivan Dmitritch imagined his wife in the train with a multitude of parcels, baskets, and bags; she would be sighing over something, complaining that the train made her head ache, that she had spent so much money.... At the stations he would continually be having to run for boiling water, bread and butter.... She wouldn’t have dinner because of its being too dear....
“She would begrudge24 me every farthing,” he thought, with a glance at his wife. “The lottery ticket is hers, not mine! Besides, what is the use of her going abroad? What does she want there? She would shut herself up in the hotel, and not let me out of her sight.... I know!”
And for the first time in his life his mind dwelt on the fact that his wife had grown elderly and plain, and that she was saturated26 through and through with the smell of cooking, while he was still young, fresh, and healthy, and might well have got married again.
“Of course, all that is silly nonsense,” he thought; “but... why should she go abroad? What would she make of it? And yet she would go, of course.... I can fancy... In reality it is all one to her, whether it is Naples or Klin. She would only be in my way. I should be dependent upon her. I can fancy how, like a regular woman, she will lock the money up as soon as she gets it.... She will hide it from me.... She will look after her relations and grudge25 me every farthing.”
Ivan Dmitritch thought of her relations. All those wretched brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles would come crawling about as soon as they heard of the winning ticket, would begin whining27 like beggars, and fawning28 upon them with oily, hypocritical smiles. Wretched, detestable people! If they were given anything, they would ask for more; while if they were refused, they would swear at them, slander29 them, and wish them every kind of misfortune.
Ivan Dmitritch remembered his own relations, and their faces, at which he had looked impartially30 in the past, struck him now as repulsive31 and hateful.
“They are such reptiles32!” he thought.
And his wife’s face, too, struck him as repulsive and hateful. Anger surged up in his heart against her, and he thought malignantly33:
“She knows nothing about money, and so she is stingy. If she won it she would give me a hundred roubles, and put the rest away under lock and key.”
And he looked at his wife, not with a smile now, but with hatred34. She glanced at him too, and also with hatred and anger. She had her own daydreams35, her own plans, her own reflections; she understood perfectly36 well what her husband’s dreams were. She knew who would be the first to try and grab her winnings.
“It’s very nice making daydreams at other people’s expense!” is what her eyes expressed. “No, don’t you dare!”
Her husband understood her look; hatred began stirring again in his breast, and in order to annoy his wife he glanced quickly, to spite her at the fourth page on the newspaper and read out triumphantly37:
“Series 9,499, number 46! Not 26!”
Hatred and hope both disappeared at once, and it began immediately to seem to Ivan Dmitritch and his wife that their rooms were dark and small and low-pitched, that the supper they had been eating was not doing them good, but lying heavy on their stomachs, that the evenings were long and wearisome....
“What the devil’s the meaning of it?” said Ivan Dmitritch, beginning to be ill-humoured. “Wherever one steps there are bits of paper under one’s feet, crumbs38, husks. The rooms are never swept! One is simply forced to go out. Damnation take my soul entirely39! I shall go and hang myself on the first aspen-tree!”
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1
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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2
lottery
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| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
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3
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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4
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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5
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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6
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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7
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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8
tantalize
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| vt.使干着急，逗弄 | |
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9
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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10
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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11
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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12
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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13
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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14
dozes
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| n.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的名词复数 )v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的第三人称单数 ) | |
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15
opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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16
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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17
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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18
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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19
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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20
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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21
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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22
despondently
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| adv.沮丧地，意志消沉地 | |
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23
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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24
begrudge
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| vt.吝啬，羡慕 | |
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25
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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26
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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27
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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28
fawning
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| adj.乞怜的，奉承的v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的现在分词 )；巴结；讨好 | |
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29
slander
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| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
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30
impartially
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| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
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31
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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32
reptiles
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| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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33
malignantly
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| 怀恶意地； 恶毒地； 有害地； 恶性地 | |
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34
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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35
daydreams
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| n.白日梦( daydream的名词复数 )v.想入非非，空想( daydream的第三人称单数 ) | |
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36
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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37
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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38
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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39
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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