Even the book, however, failed to interest her—her excited brain refusing to follow the tangled4 thread of the sugary English novel.[308] Leaving the heroine to drink a twentieth cup of tea on the lawn in company with the hero, who had just won a set of tennis, Irene threw down the book and lost herself in her own thoughts. Russia, her departure from Petrograd, her first impressions of Rome, Père Etienne, her meeting with Gzhatski—all this and many other confused recollections passed through her mind.
“How unexpectedly everything has arranged itself,” she thought, with a quiet smile. “How foolish we all are when we make plans, and arrange and fuss and worry, and seriously imagine we can direct our own destinies! God does everything in His own way, and always for the best, since our needs and our characters are far better known to Him than to ourselves. There was I, for instance, imagining that I had nothing more to live for, and, suddenly, God sent me so incomparable a lover, so immense a happiness. In my fairest dreams, I had never seen so ideal a husband—so handsome, so clever, so good, so noble. What a contrast, indeed, between him and the worthless Petrograd[309] officials, with their vulgar ambitions, their greed for money, and their mean and petty spites and jealousies5! My noble Sergei! You are like the sun, in comparison to those worms!
“And he has such high ideals!” continued Irene dreamily to herself. “How severely6 he judged that unhappy woman! A little too severely perhaps, but that only proves how seriously he looks upon love. Oh! my dear one, my dear one!
“All the priests were wrong when they found my faith pagan. I knew I was right! God wanted to try me with long and dark years of despair and suffering, but finding that I was not embittered7, and that I had remained, in spite of everything, honest and good, He has sent me this wonderful happiness as a reward. My faith was the right one, my God has triumphed!”
Irene rejoiced and exulted8, and life had never seemed so glorious to her before. Suddenly she felt that this was the happiest moment of her existence, and that nothing still happier could or would ever be. She rose, opened the door leading to the balcony,[310] and stepped out. It was still dark, but one could already distinguish the trees, and there were grey streaks9 in the sky.
“Soon the sun will rise,” thought Irene. “How lovely the view must be from the Casino Terrace!”
The idea of seeing the sun rise attracted her. “I have lived all this time, and have never once seen it,” she said to herself. “How surprised Sergei will be when I tell him my impressions!”
Irene dressed hurriedly, and, having thrown a cloak over her dress and a scarf over her hair, stepped softly out into the corridor. All was quiet, and a grey streak10 of light was filtering through the glass door leading into the garden. Like a ghost, Irene slipped along the passage, when, suddenly, the slight movement of a door on the right attracted her attention. The door gradually opened, softly, slowly, carefully. Something guilty and horrible seemed suggested by this carefulness. Irene stopped still in the shadow of a large cupboard, her eyes riveted11 on the moving door.
At last it stood half-way open, and yesterday’s[311] Carmen-like beauty appeared on the threshold. She wore a lace dressing-gown, and her long, wavy12 hair hung in heavy coils down her back. The beauty glanced to right and to left along the passage, then turned round with a whispered word, and out of the room issued—Gzhatski! He, too, whispered something, and they both laughed softly. Stepping carefully on tiptoe over the carpet, Sergei Grigorievitch stole towards the staircase, and disappeared round its bend. The beauty closed her door.…
Poor Irene’s knees shook, and all but gave way under her. Leaning against the wall, with hardly strength enough to drag one foot before the other, she staggered back to her room, and fell, almost lifeless, on the sofa.
The sun had long since risen and was forcing its way in through the shutters13. The birds had long been singing, noise and movement were in the air, everywhere people were laughing and talking, but Irene still lay prone14 and motionless. Thoughts were rushing wildly through her head, but she could not disentangle them. Slowly, gradually, she[312] began to realize the full force of the terrific blow that had fallen on her.
“So that is what you are like,” she murmured childishly. “And I had believed in you so completely, and had placed you so high.…”
For a moment the voice of reason tried to pacify15 her. “But this is nothing more than a man’s adventure, a prank16, a caprice after a gay supper,” it whispered seriously. But Irene paid no attention. “If it were only the supper,” she argued, “why did not Sergei come to her, to his bride? What cared she for marriage ceremonies? Did she not, before God, belong to Gzhatski soul and body? But no, he had not come to her. He considered her old and ugly and repulsive17!”
This thought filled Irene with such an agony of despair that she slipped from the sofa to the carpet, rolled about and knocked her head against the floor, striving by this means to deaden her unbearable18 pain. “You are old, you are ridiculous, you are hideous19, in spite of your fashionable dresses!” she exclaimed wildly to herself, and, rising from the carpet, she tottered20 towards the looking-glass,[313] and gazed disgustedly at her own tear-stained, tortured, suddenly aged21 and disfigured reflection.
“So this is the part that has been allotted22 to you in Sergei’s life!” she hissed23. “You are the ideal, the image of his mother, the statue of purity that stands on a pedestal surrounded by respect and homage24! I am sick to death of this eternal respect! I want love—one month, one day, one hour of love! But no—love belongs only to such as Carmen; never will it fall to my lot! Oh! if this is so, if this is so, I do not want to live!”
A bitter resentment25 against God took possession of Irene’s soul. “What is the object of this mockery?” she groaned26. “Thou knowest that if I had entered a convent I should have been an exemplary nun27. Of what use was it to distract me from my purpose, and send me a hope of happiness, only to shatter it cruelly with a derisive28 laugh? As if I had not suffered enough without this! All my life has been nothing but suffering, nothing but pain. But to Thee, this seemed insufficient—there was still this last refinement29 of torture to apply! But who art Thou[314] in the end, thou mighty30 torturer of men’s souls? Thou art no God, no just and generous Being, such as He whom my imagination had created. No—Thou art a vampire31, sucking the blood of men’s hearts! But I will be even with Thee yet. I will prove myself the stronger of the two. I will kill myself, and so deprive Thee of the joy of torturing me.”
“Pull yourself together,” whispered reason. “Look at life more soberly. Your Sergei is not perhaps as depraved as it would seem. There was nothing to prevent his passing all his life in the company of beautiful Carmens, and yet you know how he has been struggling all the winter to win you. That was because he felt that only you could give him happiness. Cannot you, in return, struggle a little for him? Will you not try with the strength of your love to keep alight in him the divine spark that burns in every human soul? You are pure and virtuous32, and therefore stronger than all the Carmens in the world. Victory belongs to you, and not to them!”
“No, no, no!” answered Irene. “I cannot, and will not—for I do not love[315] him any more. He is repulsive to me. I loved a strong, honest, ideal man. What do I want with this pitiful wretch33, who has not enough strength of mind to follow the dictates34 of his own conscience? Could I ever forget the look of that contemptible35, cowardly figure, stealing guiltily along the passage after an iniquitous36 interview with his loathsome37 associate! His bright image in my heart is shattered for ever, never again can I look at him in the old way.”
The savage38 beast that Gzhatski had once mentioned to Irene had awakened39 in her, and growled40 and roared, its appetite roused and unsatisfied!…
“I will drown myself—throw myself from the rocks above the Monaco gardens!” she thought. But the idea of going out into the sunshine and facing the triumphant41 glory of Southern nature, caused her to frown nervously42.
“They are all happy out there,” she muttered angrily. “Very well, they can be as happy as they like. It is all the same to me. I must do away with myself here, in this dark room.”
[316]
Her glance swept the walls in search of a nail, and returned to the table, arrested by a glass of pinkish water.
On arriving at Monte Carlo Irene had developed, on account of the strong sea air, a slight rash on her face. Having just at that time been very particular about her appearance, she had applied to a doctor, who had given her a lotion43 composed of a solution of sublimate44, with the warning that it was a strong poison, for external application only. Irene had prepared the solution each evening, in readiness for use the following morning, and a glassful of it was now standing45 temptingly on her table. She approached. In her imagination she saw frightful47 tortures and frantic48 pains.
“Nonsense, nonsense,” she whispered to herself encouragingly. “Are you such a coward? What are a few hours of physical pain compared to the unbearable mental sufferings which, with your tiresome49 good health, might last another forty years! And however cruel your sufferings have been till now, at least you had some faith in God, in His miracles and His power. What would[317] life be like now, when even this last straw of comfort has been taken from you?”
Irene shuddered50. Struggling with the animal instinct of “Life at all costs,” she alternately stretched out her hand towards the glass, and withdrew it again. Suddenly a strange thought came into her mind.
“Could it be that Nature, foreseeing the possibility of her having children by Gzhatski, and finding it necessary to protect these future children from inheriting her moral disease, from suffering, from leading useless, miserable51 lives and spreading darkness and despair along their path, had purposely sent her out to see the sun rise that morning, and was now hurrying her to drink the glass of poison?”
A strong feeling of resentment accompanied this thought.
“But why such tender solicitude52 for these unborn creatures?” thought the unfortunate girl, “and such cold, cruel indifference53 to me and my sufferings?”
And she felt inclined to upset the glass, throw away the tempting46 poison, and live on, just to spite Nature.…
There was a knock at the door.
[318]
“Irene Pavlovna, are you still asleep?” Gzhatski’s gay voice resounded54 in the passage. “Do get up and come out! It is a glorious morning, just like the one Fett[3] sings about. Do you remember?
“‘I have brought to thee a greeting
From this rosy55 summer morn;
Come! the golden hours are fleeting56.…’”
The blood rushed to Irene’s head.
“He is gay and happy!” she thought. “In whose arms has he gleaned57 this joy?”
And such an insufferable sense of insult and of irony58 conveyed itself to her mind through Gzhatski’s light-hearted greeting, that with a sudden impulse she seized the glass and swallowed the poison in one draught59.
The door opened, and Gzhatski entered.
“Oh! you are quite ready!” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t you answer? There I stood, like a Spanish hidalgo, declaiming at your door! What is the matter? Why do you look so tragic60?”
Irene looked at him in silence, and crossed her arms on her chest.
[319]
“I saw you come out from that room at dawn,” she said, in a low whisper and with, trembling lips.
“You saw?…” And Gzhatski blushed deeply. “Well, then. Of course you now think I am a scoundrel. I am not going to try and justify61 myself. I ask you only one thing—do not, for Heaven’s sake, lower yourself in my eyes by being jealous of that disgusting creature. If only you could understand what an abyss separates you from her! To me she is not a woman. She is—a glass of whisky that I must drink sometimes, a cigarette that one has the need of smoking at certain moments.… Forgive me—I have no right to tell you these things. But it is incredible that you girls can pass through life without understanding them. What am I to say, how am I to prove to you that that miserable worm simply does not exist for me? If it can please you, let us go immediately to the North Cape62 or to Central Africa. She will not follow us there! What is the matter? Oh! what is it? What is it?”
Irene had fallen to the ground with a cry, and was writhing63 on the carpet. Gzhatski[320] fell on his knees beside her and caught her up in his arms.
“Irene! Irene! My darling! My dearest one! Tell me. What is it? Don’t frighten me so!”
“I am lost!” whispered Irene in terror, clinging spasmodically to Gzhatski, and only just then realizing to the full what she had done to herself. “I am dying; I have poisoned myself with sublimate!”
“Poisoned yourself! How? Purposely? Because of that accursed Frenchwoman?”
“Yes!” whispered Irene shamefacedly.
Gzhatski gazed at her for a moment in horror.
“Oh! madness! madness!” he cried helplessly.
Then, regaining64 his presence of mind, he tore himself from her embrace, and rushed to the door.
“A doctor! A doctor!” His voice rang wildly through the corridor.
“Too late—too late!” muttered Irene. And the agony set in.
The End
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1
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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jealousies
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| n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 )；妒羡 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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embittered
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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exulted
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| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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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
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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pacify
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| vt.使(某人)平静(或息怒)；抚慰 | |
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prank
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| n.开玩笑，恶作剧；v.装饰；打扮；炫耀自己 | |
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repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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20
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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26
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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vampire
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| n.吸血鬼 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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35
contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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36
iniquitous
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| adj.不公正的；邪恶的；高得出奇的 | |
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loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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38
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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39
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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40
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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41
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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42
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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43
lotion
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| n.洗剂 | |
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44
sublimate
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| v.(使)升华，净化 | |
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45
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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46
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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47
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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48
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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49
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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50
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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51
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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52
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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53
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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54
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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55
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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56
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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57
gleaned
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| v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的过去式和过去分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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58
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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59
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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60
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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61
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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62
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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63
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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