“You think it over now, if you have any sense,” Slyunka says to him, twitching12 his cheek. “You have the thing lying by unused and get no sort of benefit from it. While we need it. A sportsman without a gun is like a sacristan without a voice. You ought to understand that, but I see you don’t understand it, so you can have no real sense. . . . Hand it over!”
“You left the gun in pledge, you know!” says Semyon in a thin womanish little voice, sighing deeply, and not taking his eyes off the string of bread rings. “Hand over the rouble you borrowed, and then take your gun.”
“I haven’t got a rouble. I swear to you, Semyon Mitritch, as God sees me: you give me the gun and I will go to-day with Ignashka and bring it you back again. I’ll bring it back, strike me dead. May I have happiness neither in this world nor the next, if I don’t.”
“Semyon Mitritch, do give it,” Ignat Ryabov says in his bass13, and his voice betrays a passionate14 desire to get what he asks for.
“But what do you want the gun for?” sighs Semyon, sadly shaking his head. “What sort of shooting is there now? It’s still winter outside, and no game at all but crows and jackdaws.”
“Winter, indeed,” says Slyunka, hooing the ash out of his pipe with his finger, “it is early yet of course, but you never can tell with the snipe. The snipe’s a bird that wants watching. If you are unlucky, you may sit waiting at home, and miss his flying over, and then you must wait till autumn. . . . It is a business! The snipe is not a rook. . . . Last year he was flying the week before Easter, while the year before we had to wait till the week after Easter! Come, do us a favour, Semyon Mitritch, give us the gun. Make us pray for you for ever. As ill-luck would have it, Ignashka has pledged his gun for drink too. Ah, when you drink you feel nothing, but now . . . ah, I wish I had never looked at it, the cursed vodka! Truly it is the blood of Satan! Give it us, Semyon Mitritch!”
“I won’t give it you,” says Semyon, clasping his yellow hands on his breast as though he were going to pray. “You must act fairly, Filimonushka. . . . A thing is not taken out of pawn15 just anyhow; you must pay the money. . . . Besides, what do you want to kill birds for? What’s the use? It’s Lent now—you are not going to eat them.”
Slyunka exchanges glances with Ryabov in embarrassment16, sighs, and says: “We would only go stand-shooting.”
“And what for? It’s all foolishness. You are not the sort of man to spend your time in foolishness. . . . Ignashka, to be sure, is a man of no understanding, God has afflicted18 him, but you, thank the Lord, are an old man. It’s time to prepare for your end. Here, you ought to go to the midnight service.”
The allusion19 to his age visibly stings Slyunka. He clears his throat, wrinkles up his forehead, and remains20 silent for a full minute.
“I say, Semyon Mitritch,” he says hotly, getting up and twitching not only in his right cheek but all over his face. “It’s God’s truth. . . . May the Almighty21 strike me dead, after Easter I shall get something from Stepan Kuzmitch for an axle, and I will pay you not one rouble but two! May the Lord chastise22 me! Before the holy image, I tell you, only give me the gun!”
“Gi-ive it,” Ryabov says in his growling23 bass; they can hear him breathing hard, and it seems that he would like to say a great deal, but cannot find the words. “Gi-ive it.”
“No, brothers, and don’t ask,” sighs Semyon, shaking his head mournfully. “Don’t lead me into sin. I won’t give you the gun. It’s not the fashion for a thing to be taken out of pawn and no money paid. Besides—why this indulgence? Go your way and God bless you!”
Slyunka rubs his perspiring24 face with his sleeve and begins hotly swearing and entreating25. He crosses himself, holds out his hands to the ikon, calls his deceased father and mother to bear witness, but Semyon sighs and meekly looks as before at the string of bread rings. In the end Ignashka Ryabov, hitherto motionless, gets up impulsively26 and bows down to the ground before the innkeeper, but even that has no effect on him.
“May you choke with my gun, you devil,” says Slyunka, with his face twitching, and his shoulders, shrugging. “May you choke, you plague, you scoundrelly soul.”
Swearing and shaking his fists, he goes out of the tavern27 with Ryabov and stands still in the middle of the road.
“He won’t give it, the damned brute28,” he says, in a weeping voice, looking into Ryabov’s face with an injured air.
“He won’t give it,” booms Ryabov.
The windows of the furthest huts, the starling cote on the tavern, the tops of the poplars, and the cross on the church are all gleaming with a bright golden flame. Now they can see only half of the sun, which, as it goes to its night’s rest, is winking29, shedding a crimson light, and seems laughing gleefully. Slyunka and Ryabov can see the forest lying, a dark blur30, to the right of the sun, a mile and a half from the village, and tiny clouds flitting over the clear sky, and they feel that the evening will be fine and still.
“Now is just the time,” says Slyunka, with his face twitching. “It would be nice to stand for an hour or two. He won’t give it us, the damned brute. May he . . .”
“For stand-shooting, now is the very time . . .” Ryabov articulated, as though with an effort, stammering31.
After standing17 still for a little they walk out of the village, without saying a word to each other, and look towards the dark streak32 of the forest. The whole sky above the forest is studded with moving black spots, the rooks flying home to roost. The snow, lying white here and there on the dark brown plough-land, is lightly flecked with gold by the sun.
“This time last year I went stand-shooting in Zhivki,” says Slyunka, after a long silence. “I brought back three snipe.”
Again there follows a silence. Both stand a long time and look towards the forest, and then lazily move and walk along the muddy road from the village.
“It’s most likely the snipe haven’t come yet,” says Slyunka, “but may be they are here.”
“Kostka says they are not here yet.”
“Maybe they are not, who can tell; one year is not like another. But what mud!”
“But we ought to stand.”
“To be sure we ought—why not?”
“We can stand and watch; it wouldn’t be amiss to go to the forest and have a look. If they are there we will tell Kostka, or maybe get a gun ourselves and come to-morrow. What a misfortune, God forgive me. It was the devil put it in my mind to take my gun to the pothouse! I am more sorry than I can tell you, Ignashka.”
Conversing33 thus, the sportsmen approach the forest. The sun has set and left behind it a red streak like the glow of a fire, scattered34 here and there with clouds; there is no catching35 the colours of those clouds: their edges are red, but they themselves are one minute grey, at the next lilac, at the next ashen36.
In the forest, among the thick branches of fir-trees and under the birch bushes, it is dark, and only the outermost37 twigs39 on the side of the sun, with their fat buds and shining bark, stand out clearly in the air. There is a smell of thawing40 snow and rotting leaves. It is still; nothing stirs. From the distance comes the subsiding41 caw of the rooks.
“We ought to be standing in Zhivki now,” whispers Slyunka, looking with awe42 at Ryabov; “there’s good stand-shooting there.”
Ryabov too looks with awe at Slyunka, with unbKlinking eyes and open mouth.
“A lovely time,” Slyunka says in a trembling whisper. “The Lord is sending a fine spring . . . and I should think the snipe are here by now. . . . Why not? The days are warm now. . . . The cranes were flying in the morning, lots and lots of them.”
Slyunka and Ryabov, splashing cautiously through the melting snow and sticking in the mud, walk two hundred paces along the edge of the forest and there halt. Their faces wear a look of alarm and expectation of something terrible and extraordinary. They stand like posts, do not speak nor stir, and their hands gradually fall into an attitude as though they were holding a gun at the cock. . . .
A big shadow creeps from the left and envelops43 the earth. The dusk of evening comes on. If one looks to the right, through the bushes and tree trunks, there can be seen crimson patches of the after-glow. It is still and damp. . . .
“There’s no sound of them,” whispers Slyunka, shrugging with the cold and sniffing44 with his chilly45 nose.
But frightened by his own whisper, he holds his finger up at some one, opens his eyes wide, and purses up his lips. There is a sound of a light snapping. The sportsmen look at each other significantly, and tell each other with their eyes that it is nothing. It is the snapping of a dry twig38 or a bit of bark. The shadows of evening keep growing and growing, the patches of crimson gradually grow dim, and the dampness becomes unpleasant.
The sportsmen remain standing a long time, but they see and hear nothing. Every instant they expect to see a delicate leaf float through the air, to hear a hurried call like the husky cough of a child, and the flutter of wings.
“No, not a sound,” Slyunka says aloud, dropping his hands and beginning to bKlink. “So they have not come yet.”
“It’s early!”
“You are right there.”
The sportsmen cannot see each other’s faces, it is getting rapidly dark.
“We must wait another five days,” says Slyunka, as he comes out from behind a bush with Ryabov. “It’s too early!”
They go homewards, and are silent all the way.
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收听单词发音
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1
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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2
thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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3
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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6
twitches
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| n.（使）抽动， （使）颤动， （使）抽搐( twitch的名词复数 ) | |
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7
shrugs
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| n.耸肩（以表示冷淡，怀疑等）( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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8
everlastingly
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| 永久地，持久地 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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10
sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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11
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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12
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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13
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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14
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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15
pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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16
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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17
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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18
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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20
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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21
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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22
chastise
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| vt.责骂，严惩 | |
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23
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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24
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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25
entreating
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的现在分词 ) | |
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26
impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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28
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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29
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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30
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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31
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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32
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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33
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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34
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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35
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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36
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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37
outermost
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| adj.最外面的，远离中心的 | |
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38
twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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39
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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40
thawing
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| n.熔化，融化v.（气候）解冻( thaw的现在分词 )；（态度、感情等）缓和；（冰、雪及冷冻食物）溶化；软化 | |
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41
subsiding
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的现在分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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42
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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43
envelops
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的第三人称单数 ) | |
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44
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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45
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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