IT was a bright winter midday. . . . There was a sharp snapping frost and the curls on Nadenka’s temples and the down on her upper lip were covered with silvery frost. She was holding my arm and we were standing1 on a high hill. From where we stood to the ground below there stretched a smooth sloping descent in which the sun was reflected as in a looking-glass. Beside us was a little sledge3 lined with bright red cloth.
“Let us go down, Nadyezhda Petrovna!” I besought4 her. “Only once! I assure you we shall be all right and not hurt.”
But Nadenka was afraid. The slope from her little goloshes to the bottom of the ice hill seemed to her a terrible, immensely deep abyss. Her spirit failed her, and she held her breath as she looked down, when I merely suggested her getting into the sledge, but what would it be if she were to risk flying into the abyss! She would die, she would go out of her mind.
“I entreat5 you!” I said. “You mustn’t be afraid! You know it’s poor-spirited, it’s cowardly!”
Nadenka gave way at last, and from her face I saw that she gave way in mortal dread6. I sat her in the sledge, pale and trembling, put my arm round her and with her cast myself down the precipice7.
The sledge flew like a bullet. The air cleft8 by our flight beat in our faces, roared, whistled in our ears, tore at us, nipped us cruelly in its anger, tried to tear our heads off our shoulders. We had hardly strength to breathe from the pressure of the wind. It seemed as though the devil himself had caught us in his claws and was dragging us with a roar to hell. Surrounding objects melted into one long furiously racing9 streak10 . . . another moment and it seemed we should perish.
“I love you, Nadya!” I said in a low voice.
The sledge began moving more and more slowly, the roar of the wind and the whirr of the runners was no longer so terrible, it was easier to breathe, and at last we were at the bottom. Nadenka was more dead than alive. She was pale and scarcely breathing. . . . I helped her to get up.
“Nothing would induce me to go again,” she said, looking at me with wide eyes full of horror. “Nothing in the world! I almost died!”
A little later she recovered herself and looked enquiringly into my eyes, wondering had I really uttered those four words or had she fancied them in the roar of the hurricane. And I stood beside her smoking and looking attentively11 at my glove.
She took my arm and we spent a long while walking near the ice-hill. The riddle12 evidently would not let her rest. . . . Had those words been uttered or not? . . . Yes or no? Yes or no? It was the question of pride, or honour, of life—a very important question, the most important question in the world. Nadenka kept impatiently, sorrowfully looking into my face with a penetrating13 glance; she answered at random14, waiting to see whether I would not speak. Oh, the play of feeling on that sweet face! I saw that she was struggling with herself, that she wanted to say something, to ask some question, but she could not find the words; she felt awkward and frightened and troubled by her joy. . . .
“Do you know what,” she said without looking at me.
“Well?” I asked.
“Let us . . . slide down again.”
We clambered up the ice-hill by the steps again. I sat Nadenka, pale and trembling, in the sledge; again we flew into the terrible abyss, again the wind roared and the runners whirred, and again when the flight of our sledge was at its swiftest and noisiest, I said in a low voice:
“I love you, Nadenka!”
When the sledge stopped, Nadenka flung a glance at the hill down which we had both slid, then bent15 a long look upon my face, listened to my voice which was unconcerned and passionless, and the whole of her little figure, every bit of it, even her muff and her hood16 expressed the utmost bewilderment, and on her face was written: “What does it mean? Who uttered those words? Did he, or did I only fancy it?”
The uncertainty17 worried her and drove her out of all patience. The poor girl did not answer my questions, frowned, and was on the point of tears.
“Hadn’t we better go home?” I asked.
“Well, I . . . I like this tobogganning,” she said, flushing. “Shall we go down once more?”
She “liked” the tobogganning, and yet as she got into the sledge she was, as both times before, pale, trembling, hardly able to breathe for terror.
We went down for the third time, and I saw she was looking at my face and watching my lips. But I put my handkerchief to my lips, coughed, and when we reached the middle of the hill I succeeded in bringing out:
“I love you, Nadya!”
And the mystery remained a mystery! Nadenka was silent, pondering on something. . . . I saw her home, she tried to walk slowly, slackened her pace and kept waiting to see whether I would not say those words to her, and I saw how her soul was suffering, what effort she was making not to say to herself:
“It cannot be that the wind said them! And I don’t want it to be the wind that said them!”
Next morning I got a little note:
“If you are tobogganning to-day, come for me.—N.”
And from that time I began going every day tobogganning with Nadenka, and as we flew down in the sledge, every time I pronounced in a low voice the same words: “I love you, Nadya!”
Soon Nadenka grew used to that phrase as to alcohol or morphia. She could not live without it. It is true that flying down the ice-hill terrified her as before, but now the terror and danger gave a peculiar18 fascination19 to words of love—words which as before were a mystery and tantalized20 the soul. The same two—the wind and I were still suspected. . . . Which of the two was making love to her she did not know, but apparently21 by now she did not care; from which goblet22 one drinks matters little if only the beverage23 is intoxicating24.
It happened I went to the skating-ground alone at midday; mingling25 with the crowd I saw Nadenka go up to the ice-hill and look about for me . . . then she timidly mounted the steps. . . . She was frightened of going alone—oh, how frightened! She was white as the snow, she was trembling, she went as though to the scaffold, but she went, she went without looking back, resolutely26. She had evidently determined27 to put it to the test at last: would those sweet amazing words be heard when I was not there? I saw her, pale, her lips parted with horror, get into the sledge, shut her eyes and saying good-bye for ever to the earth, set off. . . . “Whrrr!” whirred the runners. Whether Nadenka heard those words I do not know. I only saw her getting up from the sledge looking faint and exhausted28. And one could tell from her face that she could not tell herself whether she had heard anything or not. Her terror while she had been flying down had deprived of her all power of hearing, of discriminating29 sounds, of understanding.
But then the month of March arrived . . . the spring sunshine was more kindly30. . . . Our ice-hill turned dark, lost its brilliance31 and finally melted. We gave up tobogganning. There was nowhere now where poor Nadenka could hear those words, and indeed no one to utter them, since there was no wind and I was going to Petersburg—for long, perhaps for ever.
It happened two days before my departure I was sitting in the dusk in the little garden which was separated from the yard of Nadenka’s house by a high fence with nails in it. . . . It was still pretty cold, there was still snow by the manure32 heap, the trees looked dead but there was already the scent2 of spring and the rooks were cawing loudly as they settled for their night’s rest. I went up to the fence and stood for a long while peeping through a chink. I saw Nadenka come out into the porch and fix a mournful yearning33 gaze on the sky. . . . The spring wind was blowing straight into her pale dejected face. . . . It reminded her of the wind which roared at us on the ice-hill when she heard those four words, and her face became very, very sorrowful, a tear trickled34 down her cheek, and the poor child held out both arms as though begging the wind to bring her those words once more. And waiting for the wind I said in a low voice:
“I love you, Nadya!”
Mercy! The change that came over Nadenka! She uttered a cry, smiled all over her face and looking joyful35, happy and beautiful, held out her arms to meet the wind.
And I went off to pack up. . . .
That was long ago. Now Nadenka is married; she married—whether of her own choice or not does not matter—a secretary of the Nobility Wardenship36 and now she has three children. That we once went tobogganning together, and that the wind brought her the words “I love you, Nadenka,” is not forgotten; it is for her now the happiest, most touching37, and beautiful memory in her life. . . .
But now that I am older I cannot understand why I uttered those words, what was my motive38 in that joke. . . .
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1
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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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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3
sledge
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| n.雪橇，大锤；v.用雪橇搬运，坐雪橇往 | |
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4
besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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5
entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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6
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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7
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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8
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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9
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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10
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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11
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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12
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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13
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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14
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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15
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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16
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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17
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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18
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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19
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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20
tantalized
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| v.逗弄，引诱，折磨( tantalize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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22
goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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23
beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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24
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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25
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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26
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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27
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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28
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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29
discriminating
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| a.有辨别能力的 | |
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30
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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31
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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32
manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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33
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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34
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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35
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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36
wardenship
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| n.warden之职权（或职务） | |
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37
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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38
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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