“Extraordinary people, I tell you,” grumbled8 Lyashkevsky, looking angrily at the native, “here he has sat down on the bench, and so he will sit, damn the fellow, with his hands folded till evening. They do absolutely nothing. The wastrels10 and loafers! It would be all right, you scoundrel, if you had money lying in the bank, or had a farm of your own where others would be working for you, but here you have not a penny to your name, you eat the bread of others, you are in debt all round, and you starve your family—devil take you! You wouldn’t believe me, Franz Stepanitch, sometimes it makes me so cross that I could jump out of the window and give the low fellow a good horse-whipping. Come, why don’t you work? What are you sitting there for?”
The native looks indifferently at Lyashkevsky, tries to say something but cannot; sloth11 and the sultry heat have paralysed his conversational12 faculties13. . . . Yawning lazily, he makes the sign of the cross over his mouth, and turns his eyes up towards the sky where pigeons fly, bathing in the hot air.
“You must not be too severe in your judgments14, honoured friend,” sighs Finks, mopping his big bald head with his handkerchief. “Put yourself in their place: business is slack now, there’s unemployment all round, a bad harvest, stagnation15 in trade.”
“Good gracious, how you talk!” cries Lyashkevsky in indignation, angrily wrapping his dressing16 gown round him. “Supposing he has no job and no trade, why doesn’t he work in his own home, the devil flay17 him! I say! Is there no work for you at home? Just look, you brute18! Your steps have come to pieces, the plankway is falling into the ditch, the fence is rotten; you had better set to and mend it all, or if you don’t know how, go into the kitchen and help your wife. Your wife is running out every minute to fetch water or carry out the slops. Why shouldn’t you run instead, you rascal19? And then you must remember, Franz Stepanitch, that he has six acres of garden, that he has pigsties20 and poultry21 houses, but it is all wasted and no use. The flower garden is overgrown with weeds and almost baked dry, while the boys play ball in the kitchen garden. Isn’t he a lazy brute? I assure you, though I have only the use of an acre and a half with my lodgings, you will always find radishes, and salad, and fennel, and onions, while that blackguard buys everything at the market.”
“He is a Russian, there is no doing anything with him,” said Finks with a condescending22 smile; “it’s in the Russian blood. . . . They are a very lazy people! If all property were given to Germans or Poles, in a year’s time you would not recognise the town.”
The native in the blue trousers beckons23 a girl with a sieve24, buys a kopeck’s worth of sunflower seeds from her and begins cracking them.
“A race of curs!” says Lyashkevsky angrily. “That’s their only occupation, they crack sunflower seeds and they talk politics! The devil take them!”
Staring wrathfully at the blue trousers, Lyashkevsky is gradually roused to fury, and gets so excited that he actually foams25 at the mouth. He speaks with a Polish accent, rapping out each syllable26 venomously, till at last the little bags under his eyes swell27, and he abandons the Russian “scoundrels, blackguards, and rascals28,” and rolling his eyes, begins pouring out a shower of Polish oaths, coughing from his efforts. “Lazy dogs, race of curs. May the devil take them!”
The native hears this abuse distinctly, but, judging from the appearance of his crumpled29 little figure, it does not affect him. Apparently30 he has long ago grown as used to it as to the buzzing of the flies, and feels it superfluous31 to protest. At every visit Finks has to listen to a tirade32 on the subject of the lazy good-for-nothing aborigines, and every time exactly the same one.
“But . . . I must be going,” he says, remembering that he has no time to spare. “Good-bye!”
“Where are you off to?”
“I only looked in on you for a minute. The wall of the cellar has cracked in the girls’ high school, so they asked me to go round at once to look at it. I must go.”
“H’m. . . . I have told Varvara to get the samovar,” says Lyashkevsky, surprised. “Stay a little, we will have some tea; then you shall go.”
Finks obediently puts down his hat on the table and remains33 to drink tea. Over their tea Lyashkevsky maintains that the natives are hopelessly ruined, that there is only one thing to do, to take them all indiscriminately and send them under strict escort to hard labour.
“Why, upon my word,” he says, getting hot, “you may ask what does that goose sitting there live upon! He lets me lodgings in his house for seven roubles a month, and he goes to name-day parties, that’s all that he has to live on, the knave34, may the devil take him! He has neither earnings35 nor an income. They are not merely sluggards and wastrels, they are swindlers too, they are continually borrowing money from the town bank, and what do they do with it? They plunge6 into some scheme such as sending bulls to Moscow, or building oil presses on a new system; but to send bulls to Moscow or to press oil you want to have a head on your shoulders, and these rascals have pumpkins36 on theirs! Of course all their schemes end in smoke . . . . They waste their money, get into a mess, and then snap their fingers at the bank. What can you get out of them? Their houses are mortgaged over and over again, they have no other property—it’s all been drunk and eaten up long ago. Nine-tenths of them are swindlers, the scoundrels! To borrow money and not return it is their rule. Thanks to them the town bank is going smash!”
“I was at Yegorov’s yesterday,” Finks interrupts the Pole, anxious to change the conversation, “and only fancy, I won six roubles and a half from him at picquet.”
“I believe I still owe you something at picquet,” Lyashkevsky recollects37, “I ought to win it back. Wouldn’t you like one game?”
“Perhaps just one,” Finks assents38. “I must make haste to the high school, you know.”
Lyashkevsky and Finks sit down at the open window and begin a game of picquet. The native in the blue trousers stretches with relish39, and husks of sunflower seeds fall in showers from all over him on to the ground. At that moment from the gate opposite appears another native with a long beard, wearing a crumpled yellowish-grey cotton coat. He screws up his eyes affectionately at the blue trousers and shouts:
“Good-morning, Semyon Nikolaitch, I have the honour to congratulate you on the Thursday.”
“And the same to you, Kapiton Petrovitch!”
“Come to my seat! It’s cool here!”
The blue trousers, with much sighing and groaning40 and waddling41 from side to side like a duck, cross the street.
“Tierce major . . .” mutters Lyashkevsky, “from the queen. . . . Five and fifteen. . . . The rascals are talking of politics. . . . Do you hear? They have begun about England. I have six hearts.”
“I have the seven spades. My point.”
“Yes, it’s yours. Do you hear? They are abusing Beaconsfield. They don’t know, the swine, that Beaconsfield has been dead for ever so long. So I have twenty-nine. . . . Your lead.”
“Eight . . . nine . . . ten . . . . Yes, amazing people, these Russians! Eleven . . . twelve. . . . The Russian inertia42 is unique on the terrestrial globe.”
“Thirty . . . Thirty-one. . . . One ought to take a good whip, you know. Go out and give them Beaconsfield. I say, how their tongues are wagging! It’s easier to babble43 than to work. I suppose you threw away the queen of clubs and I didn’t realise it.”
“Thirteen . . . Fourteen. . . . It’s unbearably44 hot! One must be made of iron to sit in such heat on a seat in the full sun! Fifteen.”
The first game is followed by a second, the second by a third. . . . Finks loses, and by degrees works himself up into a gambling45 fever and forgets all about the cracking walls of the high school cellar. As Lyashkevsky plays he keeps looking at the aborigines. He sees them, entertaining each other with conversation, go to the open gate, cross the filthy46 yard and sit down on a scanty47 patch of shade under an aspen tree. Between twelve and one o’clock the fat cook with brown legs spreads before them something like a baby’s sheet with brown stains upon it, and gives them their dinner. They eat with wooden spoons, keep brushing away the flies, and go on talking.
“The devil, it is beyond everything,” cries Lyashkevsky, revolted. “I am very glad I have not a gun or a revolver or I should have a shot at those cattle. I have four knaves—fourteen. . . . Your point. . . . It really gives me a twitching48 in my legs. I can’t see those ruffians without being upset.”
“Don’t excite yourself, it is bad for you.”
“But upon my word, it is enough to try the patience of a stone!”
When he has finished dinner the native in blue trousers, worn out and exhausted49, staggering with laziness and repletion50, crosses the street to his own house and sinks feebly on to his bench. He is struggling with drowsiness51 and the gnats52, and is looking about him as dejectedly as though he were every minute expecting his end. His helpless air drives Lyashkevsky out of all patience. The Pole pokes53 his head out of the window and shouts at him, spluttering:
“Been gorging54? Ah, the old woman! The sweet darling. He has been stuffing himself, and now he doesn’t know what to do with his tummy! Get out of my sight, you confounded fellow! Plague take you!”
The native looks sourly at him, and merely twiddles his fingers instead of answering. A school-boy of his acquaintance passes by him with his satchel55 on his back. Stopping him the native ponders a long time what to say to him, and asks:
“Well, what now?”
“Nothing.”
“How, nothing?”
“Why, just nothing.”
“H’m. . . . And which subject is the hardest?”
“That’s according.” The school-boy shrugs56 his shoulders.
“I see—er . . . What is the Latin for tree?”
“Arbor.”
“Aha. . . . And so one has to know all that,” sighs the blue trousers. “You have to go into it all. . . . It’s hard work, hard work. . . . Is your dear Mamma well?”
“She is all right, thank you.”
“Ah. . . . Well, run along.”
After losing two roubles Finks remembers the high school and is horrified57.
“Holy Saints, why it’s three o’clock already. How I have been staying on. Good-bye, I must run. . . .”
“Have dinner with me, and then go,” says Lyashkevsky. “You have plenty of time.”
Finks stays, but only on condition that dinner shall last no more than ten minutes. After dining he sits for some five minutes on the sofa and thinks of the cracked wall, then resolutely58 lays his head on the cushion and fills the room with a shrill59 whistling through his nose. While he is asleep, Lyashkevsky, who does not approve of an afternoon nap, sits at the window, stares at the dozing60 native, and grumbles61:
“Race of curs! I wonder you don’t choke with laziness. No work, no intellectual or moral interests, nothing but vegetating62 . . . . disgusting. Tfoo!”
At six o’clock Finks wakes up.
“It’s too late to go to the high school now,” he says, stretching. “I shall have to go to-morrow, and now. . . . How about my revenge? Let’s have one more game. . . .”
After seeing his visitor off, between nine and ten, Lyashkevsky looks after him for some time, and says:
“Damn the fellow, staying here the whole day and doing absolutely nothing. . . . Simply get their salary and do no work; the devil take them! . . . The German pig. . . .”
He looks out of the window, but the native is no longer there. He has gone to bed. There is no one to grumble9 at, and for the first time in the day he keeps his mouth shut, but ten minutes passes and he cannot restrain the depression that overpowers him, and begins to grumble, shoving the old shabby armchair:
“You only take up room, rubbishly old thing! You ought to have been burnt long ago, but I keep forgetting to tell them to chop you up. It’s a disgrace!”
And as he gets into bed he presses his hand on a spring of the mattress63, frowns and says peevishly64:
“The con—found—ed spring! It will cut my side all night. I will tell them to rip up the mattress to-morrow and get you out, you useless thing.”
He falls asleep at midnight, and dreams that he is pouring boiling water over the natives, Finks, and the old armchair.
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1
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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2
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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pendulous
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| adj.下垂的；摆动的 | |
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4
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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5
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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6
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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7
prodding
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| v.刺，戳( prod的现在分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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8
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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9
grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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10
wastrels
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| n.无用的人，废物( wastrel的名词复数 )；浪子 | |
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11
sloth
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| n.[动]树懒；懒惰，懒散 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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13
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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14
judgments
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| 判断( judgment的名词复数 )； 鉴定； 评价； 审判 | |
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15
stagnation
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| n. 停滞 | |
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16
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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17
flay
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| vt.剥皮；痛骂 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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19
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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20
pigsties
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| n.猪圈，脏房间( pigsty的名词复数 ) | |
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21
poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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22
condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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23
beckons
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的第三人称单数 ) | |
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24
sieve
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| n.筛，滤器，漏勺 | |
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25
foams
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| n.泡沫，泡沫材料( foam的名词复数 ) | |
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26
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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27
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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28
rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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29
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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30
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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31
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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32
tirade
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| n.冗长的攻击性演说 | |
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33
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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34
knave
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| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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35
earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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36
pumpkins
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| n.南瓜( pumpkin的名词复数 )；南瓜的果肉，南瓜囊 | |
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37
recollects
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| v.记起，想起( recollect的第三人称单数 ) | |
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38
assents
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| 同意，赞同( assent的名词复数 ) | |
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39
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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40
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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41
waddling
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的现在分词 ) | |
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42
inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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43
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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44
unbearably
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| adv.不能忍受地，无法容忍地；慌 | |
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45
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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46
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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47
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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48
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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49
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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50
repletion
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| n.充满，吃饱 | |
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51
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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52
gnats
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| n.叮人小虫( gnat的名词复数 ) | |
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53
pokes
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| v.伸出( poke的第三人称单数 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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54
gorging
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| v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的现在分词 )；作呕 | |
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55
satchel
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| n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
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56
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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57
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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58
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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59
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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60
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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61
grumbles
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| 抱怨( grumble的第三人称单数 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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62
vegetating
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| v.过单调呆板的生活( vegetate的现在分词 )；植物似地生长；（瘤、疣等）长大 | |
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63
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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64
peevishly
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| adv．暴躁地 | |
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