“I went to Lyesnoe to auntie’s. I stayed there a week and then I went with all the rest to cousin Varya’s. Varya’s husband is a surly brute1 and a despot (I’d shoot a husband like that), but we had a very jolly time there. To begin with I took part in some private theatricals2. It was A Scandal in a Respectable Family. Hrustalev acted marvellously! Between the acts I drank some cold, awfully3 cold, lemon squash, with the tiniest nip of brandy in it. Lemon squash with brandy in it is very much like champagne4. . . . I drank it and I felt nothing. Next day after the performance I rode out on horseback with that Adolf Ivanitch. It was rather damp and there was a strong wind. It was most likely then that I caught cold. Three days later I came home to see how my dear, good Vassya was getting on, and while here to get my silk dress, the one that has little flowers on it. Vassya, of course, I did not find at home. I went into the kitchen to tell Praskovya to set the samovar, and there I saw on the table some pretty little carrots and turnips6 like playthings. I ate one little carrot and well, a turnip5 too. I ate very little, but only fancy, I began having a sharp pain at once—spasms7 . . . spasms . . . spasms . . . ah, I am dying. Vassya runs from the office. Naturally he clutches at his hair and turns white. They run for the doctor. . . . Do you understand, I am dying, dying.”
The spasms began at midday, before three o’clock the doctor came, and at six Lizotchka fell asleep and slept soundly till two o’clock in the morning.
It strikes two. . . . The light of the little night lamp filters scantily8 through the pale blue shade. Lizotchka is lying in bed, her white lace cap stands out sharply against the dark background of the red cushion. Shadows from the blue lamp-shade lie in patterns on her pale face and her round plump shoulders. Vassily Stepanovitch is sitting at her feet. The poor fellow is happy that his wife is at home at last, and at the same time he is terribly alarmed by her illness.
“Well, how do you feel, Lizotchka?” he asks in a whisper, noticing that she is awake.
“I am better,” moans Lizotchka. “I don’t feel the spasms now, but there is no sleeping. . . . I can’t get to sleep!”
“Isn’t it time to change the compress, my angel?”
Lizotchka sits up slowly with the expression of a martyr9 and gracefully10 turns her head on one side. Vassily Stepanovitch with reverent11 awe12, scarcely touching13 her hot body with his fingers, changes the compress. Lizotchka shrinks, laughs at the cold water which tickles14 her, and lies down again.
“You are getting no sleep, poor boy!” she moans.
“As though I could sleep!”
“It’s my nerves, Vassya, I am a very nervous woman. The doctor has prescribed for stomach trouble, but I feel that he doesn’t understand my illness. It’s nerves and not the stomach, I swear that it is my nerves. There is only one thing I am afraid of, that my illness may take a bad turn.”
“No, Lizotchka, no, to-morrow you will be all right!”
“Hardly likely! I am not afraid for myself. . . . I don’t care, indeed, I shall be glad to die, but I am sorry for you! You’ll be a widower15 and left all alone.”
Vassitchka rarely enjoys his wife’s society, and has long been used to solitude16, but Lizotchka’s words agitate17 him.
“Goodness knows what you are saying, little woman! Why these gloomy thoughts?”
“Well, you will cry and grieve, and then you will get used to it. You’ll even get married again.”
The husband clutches his head.
“There, there, I won’t!” Lizotchka soothes18 him, “only you ought to be prepared for anything.”
“And all of a sudden I shall die,” she thinks, shutting her eyes.
And Lizotchka draws a mental picture of her own death, how her mother, her husband, her cousin Varya with her husband, her relations, the admirers of her “talent” press round her death bed, as she whispers her last farewell. All are weeping. Then when she is dead they dress her, interestingly pale and dark-haired, in a pink dress (it suits her) and lay her in a very expensive coffin19 on gold legs, full of flowers. There is a smell of incense20, the candles splutter. Her husband never leaves the coffin, while the admirers of her talent cannot take their eyes off her, and say: “As though living! She is lovely in her coffin!” The whole town is talking of the life cut short so prematurely21. But now they are carrying her to the church. The bearers are Ivan Petrovitch, Adolf Ivanitch, Varya’s husband, Nikolay Semyonitch, and the black-eyed student who had taught her to drink lemon squash with brandy. It’s only a pity there’s no music playing. After the burial service comes the leave-taking. The church is full of sobs22, they bring the lid with tassels23, and . . . Lizotchka is shut off from the light of day for ever, there is the sound of hammering nails. Knock, knock, knock.
Lizotchka shudders24 and opens her eyes.
“Vassya, are you here?” she asks. “I have such gloomy thoughts. Goodness, why am I so unlucky as not to sleep. Vassya, have pity, do tell me something!”
“What shall I tell you?”
“Something about love,” Lizotchka says languidly. “Or some anecdote25 about Jews. . . .”
Vassily Stepanovitch, ready for anything if only his wife will be cheerful and not talk about death, combs locks of hair over his ears, makes an absurd face, and goes up to Lizotchka.
“Does your vatch vant mending?” he asks.
“It does, it does,” giggles26 Lizotchka, and hands him her gold watch from the little table. “Mend it.”
Vassya takes the watch, examines the mechanism27 for a long time, and wriggling28 and shrugging, says: “She can not be mended . . . in vun veel two cogs are vanting. . . .”
This is the whole performance. Lizotchka laughs and claps her hands.
“Capital,” she exclaims. “Wonderful. Do you know, Vassya, it’s awfully stupid of you not to take part in amateur theatricals! You have a remarkable29 talent! You are much better than Sysunov. There was an amateur called Sysunov who played with us in It’s My Birthday. A first-class comic talent, only fancy: a nose as thick as a parsnip, green eyes, and he walks like a crane. . . . We all roared; stay, I will show you how he walks.”
Lizotchka springs out of bed and begins pacing about the floor, barefooted and without her cap.
“A very good day to you!” she says in a bass30, imitating a man’s voice. “Anything pretty? Anything new under the moon? Ha, ha, ha!” she laughs.
“Ha, ha, ha!” Vassya seconds her. And the young pair, roaring with laughter, forgetting the illness, chase one another about the room. The race ends in Vassya’s catching31 his wife by her nightgown and eagerly showering kisses upon her. After one particularly passionate32 embrace Lizotchka suddenly remembers that she is seriously ill. . . .
“What silliness!” she says, making a serious face and covering herself with the quilt. “I suppose you have forgotten that I am ill! Clever, I must say!”
“Sorry . . .” falters33 her husband in confusion.
“If my illness takes a bad turn it will be your fault. Not kind! not good!”
Lizotchka closes her eyes and is silent. Her former languor34 and expression of martyrdom return again, there is a sound of gentle moans. Vassya changes the compress, and glad that his wife is at home and not gadding35 off to her aunt’s, sits meekly36 at her feet. He does not sleep all night. At ten o’clock the doctor comes.
“Well, how are we feeling?” he asks as he takes her pulse. “Have you slept?”
“Badly,” Lizotchka’s husband answers for her, “very badly.”
The doctor walks away to the window and stares at a passing chimney-sweep.
“Doctor, may I have coffee to-day?” asks Lizotchka.
“You may.”
“And may I get up?”
“You might, perhaps, but . . . you had better lie in bed another day.”
“She is awfully depressed,” Vassya whispers in his ear, “such gloomy thoughts, such pessimism37. I am dreadfully uneasy about her.”
The doctor sits down to the little table, and rubbing his forehead, prescribes bromide of potassium for Lizotchka, then makes his bow, and promising38 to look in again in the evening, departs. Vassya does not go to the office, but sits all day at his wife’s feet.
At midday the admirers of her talent arrive in a crowd. They are agitated39 and alarmed, they bring masses of flowers and French novels. Lizotchka, in a snow-white cap and a light dressing40 jacket, lies in bed with an enigmatic look, as though she did not believe in her own recovery. The admirers of her talent see her husband, but readily forgive his presence: they and he are united by one calamity41 at that bedside!
At six o’clock in the evening Lizotchka falls asleep, and again sleeps till two o’clock in the morning. Vassya as before sits at her feet, struggles with drowsiness42, changes her compress, plays at being a Jew, and in the morning after a second night of suffering, Liza is prinking before the looking-glass and putting on her hat.
“Wherever are you going, my dear?” asks Vassya, with an imploring43 look at her.
“What?” says Lizotchka in wonder, assuming a scared expression, “don’t you know that there is a rehearsal44 to-day at Marya Lvovna’s?”
After escorting her there, Vassya having nothing to do to while away his boredom45, takes his portfolio46 and goes to the office. His head aches so violently from his sleepless47 nights that his left eye shuts of itself and refuses to open. . . .
“What’s the matter with you, my good sir?” his chief asks him. “What is it?”
Vassya waves his hand and sits down.
“Don’t ask me, your Excellency,” he says with a sigh. “What I have suffered in these two days, what I have suffered! Liza has been ill!”
“Good heavens,” cried his chief in alarm. “Lizaveta Pavlovna, what is wrong with her?”
Vassily Stepanovitch merely throws up his hands and raises his eyes to the ceiling, as though he would say: “It’s the will of Providence48.”
“Ah, my boy, I can sympathise with you with all my heart!” sighs his chief, rolling his eyes. “I’ve lost my wife, my dear, I understand. That is a loss, it is a loss! It’s awful, awful! I hope Lizaveta Pavlovna is better now! What doctor is attending her?”
“Von Schterk.”
“Von Schterk! But you would have been better to have called in Magnus or Semandritsky. But how very pale your face is. You are ill yourself! This is awful!”
“Yes, your Excellency, I haven’t slept. What I have suffered, what I have been through!”
“And yet you came! Why you came I can’t understand? One can’t force oneself like that! One mustn’t do oneself harm like that. Go home and stay there till you are well again! Go home, I command you! Zeal49 is a very fine thing in a young official, but you mustn’t forget as the Romans used to say: ‘mens sana in corpore sano,’ that is, a healthy brain in a healthy body.”
Vassya agrees, puts his papers back in his portfolio, and, taking leave of his chief, goes home to bed.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
theatricals
|
|
| n.（业余性的）戏剧演出，舞台表演艺术；职业演员；戏剧的( theatrical的名词复数 )；剧场的；炫耀的；戏剧性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
champagne
|
|
| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
turnip
|
|
| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
turnips
|
|
| 芜青( turnip的名词复数 )； 芜菁块根； 芜菁甘蓝块根； 怀表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
spasms
|
|
| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
scantily
|
|
| adv.缺乏地；不充足地；吝啬地；狭窄地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
martyr
|
|
| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
gracefully
|
|
| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
reverent
|
|
| adj.恭敬的，虔诚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
tickles
|
|
| （使）发痒( tickle的第三人称单数 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
widower
|
|
| n.鳏夫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
agitate
|
|
| vi.(for,against)煽动，鼓动；vt.搅动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
soothes
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的第三人称单数 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
coffin
|
|
| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
incense
|
|
| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
prematurely
|
|
| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
sobs
|
|
| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
tassels
|
|
| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
shudders
|
|
| n.颤动，打颤，战栗( shudder的名词复数 )v.战栗( shudder的第三人称单数 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
anecdote
|
|
| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
giggles
|
|
| n.咯咯的笑( giggle的名词复数 )；傻笑；玩笑；the giggles 止不住的格格笑v.咯咯地笑( giggle的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
mechanism
|
|
| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
wriggling
|
|
| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
bass
|
|
| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
falters
|
|
| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的第三人称单数 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
languor
|
|
| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
gadding
|
|
| n.叮搔症adj.蔓生的v.闲逛( gad的现在分词 )；游荡；找乐子；用铁棒刺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
meekly
|
|
| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
pessimism
|
|
| n.悲观者，悲观主义者，厌世者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
promising
|
|
| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
calamity
|
|
| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
drowsiness
|
|
| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
imploring
|
|
| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
rehearsal
|
|
| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
boredom
|
|
| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
portfolio
|
|
| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
sleepless
|
|
| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |