But no one for a long time had so deeply interested him, even to agitation27, as this hoarse28, tippling infantry29 captain. For a whole day Schavinsky did not let him go. As he sat by60 his side in the cab and watched him surreptitiously, Schavinsky resolved:
‘No, I can’t be mistaken;—this yellow, squinting30 face with the cheekbones, these eternal bobs and bows, and the incessant31 hand washing; above all this strained, nervous, uneasy familiarity.... But if it’s all true, and Captain Ribnikov is really a Japanese spy, then what extraordinary presence of mind the man must have to play with this magnificent audacity32, this diabolically34 true caricature of a broken-down officer in broad daylight in a hostile capital. What awful sensations he must have, balanced every second of the day on the very edge of certain death!’
Here was something completely inexplicable35 to Schavinsky—a fascinating, mad, cool audacity—perhaps the very noblest kind of patriotic36 devotion. An acute curiosity, together with a reverent37 fear, drew the journalist’s mind more and more strongly towards the soul of this amazing captain.
But sometimes he pulled himself up mentally: ‘Suppose I’ve forced myself to believe in a ridiculous preconceived idea? Suppose I’ve just let myself be fooled by a disreputable captain in my inquisitive eagerness to read men’s souls? Surely there are any number of yellow Mongol faces in the Ural or among the Oremburg Cossacks.’ Still more intently he looked into every motion and expression of the captain’s face, listened intently to every sound of his voice.
Ribnikov did not miss a single soldier who61 gave him a salute38 as he passed. He put his hand to the peak of his cap with a peculiarly prolonged and exaggerated care. Whenever they drove past a church he invariably raised his hat and crossed himself punctiliously39 with a broad sweep of his arm, and as he did it he gave an almost imperceptible side-glance to his companion—is he noticing or not?
Once Schavinsky could hold out no longer, and said: ‘But you’re pious40, though, Captain.’
Ribnikov threw out his hands, hunched41 his shoulders up funnily, and said in his hoarse voice: ‘Can’t be helped, old man. I’ve got the habit of it at the Front. The man who fights learns to pray, you know. It’s a splendid Russian proverb. You learn to say your prayers out there, whether you like it or not. You go into the firing line. The bullets are whirring, terribly—shrapnel, bombs ... those cursed Japanese shells.... But it can’t be helped—duty, your oath, and off you go! And you say to yourself: “Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy Will be done in earth, as it is in heaven....”’
And he said the whole prayer to the end, carefully shaping out each sound.
‘Spy!’ Schavinsky decided42.
But he would not leave his suspicion half-way. For hours on end he went on watching and goading43 the captain. In a private room of a restaurant at dinner he bent right over62 the table and looked into Ribnikov’s very pupils.
‘Listen, Captain. No one can hear us now.... What’s the strongest oath I can give you that no one will ever hear of our conversation?... I’m convinced, absolutely and beyond all doubt, that you’re a Japanese.’
Ribnikov banged himself on the chest again.
‘I am Capt——’
‘No, no. Let’s have done with these tricks. You can’t hide your face, however clever you are. The line of your cheekbones, the cut of your eyes, your peculiar head, the colour of your skin, the stiff, straggling growth on your face—everything points beyond all shadow of doubt to you belonging to the yellow race. But you’re safe. I shan’t tell on you, whatever offers they make me, however they threaten me for silence. I shan’t do you any harm, if it’s only because I’m full of admiration44 for your amazing courage. I say more—I’m full of reverence45, terror if you like. I’m a writer—that’s a man of fancy and imagination. I can’t even imagine how it’s possible for a man to make up his mind to it: to come thousands of miles from your country to a city full of enemies that hate you, risking your life every second—you’ll be hanged without a trial if you’re caught, I suppose you know? And then to go walking about in an officer’s uniform, to enter every possible kind of company, and hold the most dangerous conversations. The least mistake, one slip will ruin you in a second. Half63 an hour ago you used the word “holograph” instead of “manuscript.” A trifle, but very characteristic. An army captain would never use this word of a modern manuscript, but only of an archive or a very solemn document. He wouldn’t even say “manuscript,” but just a “book”—but these are trifles. But the one thing I don’t understand is the incessant strain of the mind and will, the diabolical33 waste of spiritual strength. To forget to think in Japanese, to forget your name utterly46, to identify yourself completely with another’s personality—no, this is surely greater than any heroism47 they told us of in school. My dear man, don’t try to play with me. I swear I’m not your enemy.’
He said all this quite sincerely, for his whole being was stirred to flame by the heroic picture of his imagination. But the captain would not let himself be flattered. He listened to him, and stared with eyes slightly closed at his glass, which he quietly moved over the tablecloth48, and the corners of his blue lips twisted nervously49. And in his face Schavinsky recognised the same hidden mockery, the same deep, stubborn, implacable hatred50, the peculiar hatred that a European can perhaps never understand, felt by a wise, cultured, civilised beast, made man, for a being of another species.
‘Keep your kindness in your pocket,’ replied Ribnikov carelessly. ‘Let it go to hell. They teased me in the regiment51 too with being a Jap. Chuck it! I’m Captain Ribnikov. You know64 there’s a Russian proverb, “The face of a beast with the soul of a man.” I’ll just tell you there was once a case in our regiment——’
‘What was your regiment?’ Schavinsky asked suddenly.
But the captain seemed not to have heard. He began to tell the old, threadbare dirty stories that are told in camp, on man?uvres, and in barracks, and in spite of himself Schavinsky began to feel insulted. Once during the evening as they sat in the cab Schavinsky put his arm round his waist, and drew him close and said in a low voice:
‘Captain ... no, Colonel, at least, or you would never have been given such a serious mission. Let’s say Colonel, then. I do homage52 to your daring, that is to the boundless53 courage of the Japanese nation. Sometimes when I read or think of individual cases of your diabolical bravery and contempt of death, I tremble with ecstasy54. What immortal55 beauty, what divine courage there is, for instance, in the action of the captain of the shattered warship56 who answered the call to surrender by quietly lighting57 a cigarette, and went to the bottom with a cigarette in his lips! What titanic58 strength, what thrilling contempt for the enemy! And the naval59 cadets on the fireships who went to certain death, delighted as though they were going to a ball! And do you remember how a lieutenant60, all by himself, towed a torpedo61 in a boat at night to make an end of the mole62 at Port Arthur? The searchlights65 were turned on and all there remained of the lieutenant and his boat was a bloody63 stain on the concrete wall. But the next day all the midshipmen and lieutenants64 of the Japanese Fleet overwhelmed Admiral Togo with applications, offering to repeat the exploit. What amazing heroes! But still more magnificent is Togo’s order that the officers under him should not so madly risk their lives, which belong to their country and not to them. It’s damnably beautiful, though!’
‘What’s this street we’re in?’ interrupted Ribnikov, yawning. ‘After the dug-outs in Manchuria I’ve completely lost my sense of direction in the street. When we were in Kharbin....’
But the ecstatic Schavinsky went on, without listening to him.
‘Do you remember the case of an officer who was taken prisoner and battered65 his head to pieces on a stone? But the most wonderful thing is the signatures of the Samurai. Of course, you’ve never heard of it, Captain Ribnikov?’ Schavinsky asked with sarcastic66 emphasis. ‘It’s understood, you haven’t heard of it.... You see General Nogi asked for volunteers to march in the leading column in a night attack on the Port Arthur forts. Nearly the whole brigade offered themselves for this honourable67 death. Since there were too many and they pressed in front of each other for the opportunity of death, they had to make application in writing, and some of them, according to66 an old custom, cut off the first finger of their left hand and fixed68 it to their signature for a seal of blood. That’s what the Samurai did!’
‘Samurai,’ Ribnikov dully repeated. There was a noise in his throat as if something had snapped and spread. Schavinsky gave a quick glance to his profile. An expression such as he had never seen in the captain’s face before suddenly played about his mouth and on his chin, which trembled once; and his eyes began to shine with the warm, tremulous light which gleams through sudden, brimming tears. But he pulled himself together instantly, shut his eyes for a second, and turned a na?ve and stupid face to Schavinsky, and suddenly uttered a long, filthy69, Russian oath.
‘Captain, Captain, what’s the matter with you?’ Schavinsky cried, almost in fright.
‘That’s all newspaper lies,’ Ribnikov said unconcernedly. ‘Our Russian Tommy is not a bit behind. There’s a difference, of course. They fight for their life, however, independence—and what have we mixed ourselves up in it for? Nobody knows! The devil alone knows why. “There was no sorrow till the devil pumped it up,” as we say in Russian. What! Ha, ha, ha!’
On the race-course the sport distracted Schavinsky’s attention a little, and he could not observe the captain all the while. But in the intervals70 between the events, he saw him every now and then in one or another of the stands, upstairs or downstairs, in the buffet71 or by the67 pari-mutuel. That day the word Tsushima was on everybody’s lips—backers, jockeys, book-makers, even the mysterious, ragged72 beings that are inevitable73 on every race-course. The word was used to jeer74 at a beaten horse, by men who were annoyed at losing, with indifferent laughter and with bitterness. Here and there it was uttered with passion. Schavinsky saw from a distance how the captain in his easy, confident way picked a quarrel with one man, shook hands with others, and tapped others on the shoulder. His small, limping figure appeared and disappeared everywhere.
From the races they drove to a restaurant, and from there to Schavinsky’s house. The journalist was rather ashamed of his r?le of voluntary detective; but he felt it was out of his power to throw it up, though he had already begun to feel tired, and his head ached with the strain of this stealthy struggle with another man’s soul. Convinced that flattery had been of no avail, he now tried to draw the captain to frankness, by teasing and rousing his feelings of patriotism75.
‘Still, I’m sorry for these poor Japs,’ he said with ironical76 pity. ‘When all is said, Japan has exhausted77 all her national genius in this war. In my opinion she’s like a feeble little man who lifts a half dozen hundredweight on his shoulders, either in ecstasy or intoxication78, or out of mere79 bravado80, and strains his insides, and is already beginning to die a lingering death. You see Russia’s an entirely81 different country.68 She’s a Colossus. To her the Manchurian defeats are just the same as cupping a full-blooded man. You’ll see how she will recover and begin to blossom when the war is over. But Japan will wither82 and die. She’s strained herself. Don’t tell me they have civilisation83, universal education, European technique: at the end of it all, a Japanese is an Asiatic, half-man, half-monkey. Even in type he approaches a Bushman, a Touareg, or a Blackfellow. You have only to look at his facial angle. It all comes to this, they’re just Japs! It wasn’t your civilisation or your political youth that conquered us at all, but simply a fit of madness. Do you know what a seizure84 is, a fit of frenzy85? A feeble woman tears chains to pieces and tosses strong men about like straws. The next day she hasn’t even the power to lift her hand. It’s the same with Japan. Believe me, after the heroic fit will follow impotence and decay; but certainly before that she will pass through a stage of national swagger, outrageous86 militarism and insane Chauvinism.’
‘Really?’ cried Ribnikov in stupid rapture87. ‘You can’t get away from the truth. Shake hands, Mr. Author. You can always tell a clever man at once.’
He laughed hoarsely88, spat89 about, tapped Schavinsky’s knee, and shook his hand, and Schavinsky suddenly felt ashamed of himself and the tricks of his stealthy searching into human souls.
‘What if I’m mistaken and this Ribnikov is69 only the truest type of the drunken infantryman. No, it’s impossible. But if it is possible, then what a fool I’m making of myself, my God!’
At his house he showed the captain his library, his rare engravings, a collection of old china, and a couple of small Siberian dogs. His wife, who played small parts in musical comedy, was out of town. Ribnikov examined everything with a polite, uninterested curiosity, in which his host caught something like boredom90, and even cold contempt. Ribnikov casually91 opened a magazine and read some lines aloud.
‘He’s made a blunder now,’ Schavinsky thought, when he heard his extraordinary correct and wooden reading, each separate letter pronounced with exaggerated precision like the head boy in a French class showing off. Evidently Ribnikov noticed it himself, for he soon shut the book and asked:
‘But you’re a writer yourself?’
‘Yes.... I do a bit.’
‘What newspapers do you write for?’
Schavinsky named them. It was the sixth time he had been asked the question that day.
‘Oh, yes, yes, yes. I forgot, I’ve asked you before. D’you know what, Mr. Author?’
‘What is it?’
‘Let us do this. You write and I’ll dictate92. That is, I won’t dictate ... oh, no, I shall never dare.’ Ribnikov rubbed his hands and bowed hurriedly. ‘You’ll compose it yourself, of course. I’ll only give you some thoughts70 and—what shall I call them—reminiscences of the war? Oh, what a lot of interesting copy I have!...’
Schavinsky sat sideways on the table and glanced at the captain, cunningly screwing up one eye.
‘Of course, I shall give your name?’
‘Why, you may. I’ve no objection. Put it like this: “This information was supplied to me by Captain Ribnikov who has just returned from the Front.”’
‘Very well. Why do you want this?’
‘What?’
‘Having your name in it. Do you want it for future evidence that you inspired the Russian newspapers? What a clever fellow, I am, eh?’
But the captain avoided a direct answer, as usual.
‘But perhaps you haven’t time? You are engaged in other work. Well, let the reminiscences go to hell! You won’t be able to tell the whole story. As they say: “There’s a difference between living a life and crossing a field.” Eh, what? Ha, ha, ha!’
An interesting fancy came into Schavinsky’s head. In his study stood a big, white table of unpainted ash. On the clean virgin93 surface of this table all Schavinsky’s friends used to leave their autographs in the shape of aphorisms94, verses, drawings, and even notes of music. He said to Ribnikov: ‘See, here is my autograph-book, Captain. Won’t you write me something71 in memory of our pleasant meeting, and our acquaintance which’—Schavinsky bowed politely—‘I venture to hope will not be short-lived?’
‘With pleasure,’ Ribnikov readily agreed. ‘Something from Pushkin or Gogol?’
‘No ... far better something of your own.’
‘Of my own? Splendid.’
He took the pen and dipped it, thought and prepared to write, but Schavinsky suddenly stopped him.
‘We’d better do this. Here’s a piece of a paper. There are drawing-pins in the box at the corner. Please write something particularly interesting and then cover it with the paper and fasten the corners with the drawing-pins. I give you my word of honour as an author, that for two months I won’t put a finger on the paper and won’t look at what you’ve written. Is that all right? Well, write then. I’ll go out of the room so as not to hinder you.’
After five minutes Ribnikov shouted to him: ‘Please come in.’
‘Ready?’ Schavinsky asked, entering.
Ribnikov drew himself up, put his hand to his forehead in salute and shouted like a soldier: ‘Very good, sir.’
‘Thanks. Now we’ll go to the “Buff,” or somewhere else,’ Schavinsky said. ‘There we’ll think what we’ll do next. I shan’t let you out of my sight to-day, Captain.’
‘With the greatest pleasure,’ Ribnikov said in a hoarse bass95, clicking his heels. He lifted up72 his shoulders and gave a military twist to his moustaches on either side.
But Schavinsky, against his own will, did not keep his word. At the last moment before leaving his house the journalist remembered that he had left his cigarette-case in the study and went back for it, leaving Ribnikov in the hall. The piece of white paper, carefully fastened with drawing-pins, aroused his curiosity. He could not resist the temptation; he turned back stealthily and after lifting a corner of the paper quickly read the words written in a thin, distinct and extraordinary elegant hand:
‘Though you are Ivanov the seventh, you’re a fool all the same.’
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收听单词发音
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1
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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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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5
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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plagiarist
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| n.剽窃者，文抄公 | |
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maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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8
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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13
toils
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| 网 | |
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sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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saturated
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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30
squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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32
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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diabolically
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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reverent
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| adj.恭敬的，虔诚的 | |
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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punctiliously
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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goading
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| v.刺激( goad的现在分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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46
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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50
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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51
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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52
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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53
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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54
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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55
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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56
warship
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| n.军舰，战舰 | |
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57
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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58
titanic
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| adj.巨人的，庞大的，强大的 | |
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59
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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60
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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61
torpedo
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| n.水雷，地雷；v.用鱼雷破坏 | |
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62
mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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63
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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64
lieutenants
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| n.陆军中尉( lieutenant的名词复数 )；副职官员；空军；仅低于…官阶的官员 | |
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65
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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66
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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71
buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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72
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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73
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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74
jeer
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| vi.嘲弄，揶揄；vt.奚落；n.嘲笑，讥评 | |
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75
patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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78
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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81
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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82
wither
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| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
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83
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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84
seizure
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| n.没收；占有；抵押 | |
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85
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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aphorisms
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| 格言，警句( aphorism的名词复数 ) | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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