In addition to this individual who assisted in this way at our host's family festivity (he had five fat, well-fed boys), I was attracted, too, by another gentleman. But he was quite of a different sort. He was a personage. He was called Yulian Mastakovitch. From the first glance one could see that he was an honoured guest, and stood in the same relation to our host as our host stood in relation to the gentleman who was stroking his whiskers. Our host and hostess said no end of polite things to him, waited on him hand and foot, pressed him to drink, flattered him, brought their visitors up to be introduced to him, but did not take him to be introduced to any one else. I noticed that tears glistened6 in our host's eyes when he remarked about the party that he had rarely spent an evening so agreeably. I felt as it were frightened in the presence of such a personage, and so, after admiring the children, I went away into a little parlour, which was quite empty, and sat down in an arbour of flowers which filled up almost half the room.
The children were all incredibly sweet, and resolutely7 refused to model themselves on the "grown-ups," regardless of all the admonitions of their governesses and mammas. They stripped the Christmas tree to the last sweetmeat in the twinkling of an eye, and had succeeded in breaking half the playthings before they knew what was destined9 for which. Particularly charming was a black-eyed, curly-headed boy, who kept trying to shoot me with his wooden gun. But my attention was still more attracted by his sister, a girl of eleven, quiet, dreamy, pale, with big, prominent, dreamy eyes, exquisite10 as a little Cupid. The children hurt her feelings in some way, and so she came away from them to the same empty parlour in which I was sitting, and played with her doll in the corner. The visitors respectfully pointed11 out her father, a wealthy contractor12, and some one whispered that three hundred thousand roubles were already set aside for her dowry. I turned round to glance at the group who were interested in such a circumstance, and my eye fell on Yulian Mastakovitch, who, with his hands behind his back and his head on one side, was listening with the greatest attention to these gentlemen's idle gossip. Afterwards I could not help admiring the discrimination of the host and hostess in the distribution of the children's presents. The little girl, who had already a portion of three hundred thousand roubles, received the costliest13 doll. Then followed presents diminishing in value in accordance with the rank of the parents of these happy children; finally, the child of lowest degree, a thin, freckled14, red-haired little boy of ten, got nothing but a book of stories about the marvels15 of nature and tears of devotion, etc., without pictures or even woodcuts. He was the son of a poor widow, the governess of the children of the house, an oppressed and scared little boy. He was dressed in a short jacket of inferior nankin. After receiving his book he walked round the other toys for a long time; he longed to play with the other children, but did not dare; it was evident that he already felt and understood his position. I love watching children. Their first independent approaches to life are extremely interesting. I noticed that the red-haired boy was so fascinated by the costly16 toys of the other children, especially by a theatre in which he certainly longed to take some part, that he made up his mind to sacrifice his dignity. He smiled and began playing with the other children, he gave away his apple to a fat-faced little boy who had a mass of goodies tied up in a pocket-handkerchief already, and even brought himself to carry another boy on his back, simply not to be turned away from the theatre, but an insolent17 youth gave him a heavy thump18 a minute later. The child did not dare to cry. Then the governess, his mother, made her appearance, and told him not to interfere19 with the other children's playing. The boy went away to the same room in which was the little girl. She let him join her, and the two set to work very eagerly dressing20 the expensive doll.
I had been sitting more than half an hour in the ivy21 arbour, listening to the little prattle22 of the red-haired boy and the beauty with the dowry of three hundred thousand, who was nursing her doll, when Yulian Mastakovitch suddenly walked into the room. He had taken advantage of the general commotion23 following a quarrel among the children to step out of the drawing-room. I had noticed him a moment before talking very cordially to the future heiress's papa, whose acquaintance he had just made, of the superiority of one branch of the service over another. Now he stood in hesitation24 and seemed to be reckoning something on his fingers.
"Three hundred ... three hundred," he was whispering. "Eleven ... twelve ... thirteen," and so on. "Sixteen—five years! Supposing it is at four per cent.—five times twelve is sixty; yes, to that sixty ... well, in five years we may assume it will be four hundred. Yes!... But he won't stick to four per cent., the rascal25. He can get eight or ten. Well, five hundred, let us say, five hundred at least ... that's certain; well, say a little more for frills. H'm!..."
His hesitation was at an end, he blew his nose and was on the point of going out of the room when he suddenly glanced at the little girl and stopped short. He did not see me behind the pots of greenery. It seemed to me that he was greatly excited. Either his calculations had affected26 his imagination or something else, for he rubbed his hands and could hardly stand still. This excitement reached its utmost limit when he stopped and bent27 another resolute8 glance at the future heiress. He was about to move forward, but first looked round, then moving on tiptoe, as though he felt guilty, he advanced towards the children. He approached with a little smile, bent down and kissed her on the head. The child, not expecting this attack, uttered a cry of alarm.
"What are you doing here, sweet child?" he asked in a whisper, looking round and patting the girl's cheek.
"We are playing."
"Ah! With him?" Yulian Mastakovitch looked askance at the boy. "You had better go into the drawing-room, my dear," he said to him.
The boy looked at him open-eyed and did not utter a word. Yulian Mastakovitch looked round him again, and again bent down to the little girl.
"And what is this you've got—a dolly, dear child?" he asked.
"Yes, a dolly," answered the child, frowning, and a little shy.
"A dolly ... and do you know, dear child, what your dolly is made of?"
"I don't know ..." the child answered in a whisper, hanging her head.
"It's made of rags, darling. You had better go into the drawing-room to your playmates, boy," said Yulian Mastakovitch, looking sternly at the boy. The boy and girl frowned and clutched at each other. They did not want to be separated.
"And do you know why they gave you that doll?" asked Yulian Mastakovitch, dropping his voice to a softer and softer tone.
"I don't know."
"Because you have been a sweet and well-behaved child all the week."
At this point Yulian Mastakovitch, more excited than ever, speaking in most dulcet28 tones, asked at last, in a hardly audible voice choked with emotion and impatience—
"And will you love me, dear little girl, when I come and see your papa and mamma?"
Saying this, Yulian Mastakovitch tried once more to kiss "the dear little girl," but the red-haired boy, seeing that the little girl was on the point of tears, clutched her hand and began whimpering from sympathy for her. Yulian Mastakovitch was angry in earnest.
"Go away, go away from here, go away!" he said to the boy. "Go into the drawing-room! Go in there to your playmates!"
"No, he needn't, he needn't! You go away," said the little girl. "Leave him alone, leave him alone," she said, almost crying.
Some one made a sound at the door. Yulian Mastakovitch instantly raised his majestic29 person and took alarm. But the red-haired boy was even more alarmed than Yulian Mastakovitch; he abandoned the little girl and, slinking along by the wall, stole out of the parlour into the dining-room. To avoid arousing suspicion, Yulian Mastakovitch, too, went into the dining-room. He was as red as a lobster30, and, glancing into the looking-glass, seemed to be ashamed at himself. He was perhaps vexed31 with himself for his impetuosity and hastiness. Possibly, he was at first so much impressed by his calculations, so inspired and fascinated by them, that in spite of his seriousness and dignity he made up his mind to behave like a boy, and directly approach the object of his attentions, even though she could not be really the object of his attentions for another five years at least. I followed the estimable gentleman into the dining-room and there beheld32 a strange spectacle. Yulian Mastakovitch, flushed with vexation and anger, was frightening the red-haired boy, who, retreating from him, did not know where to run in his terror.
"Go away; what are you doing here? Go away, you scamp; are you after the fruit here, eh? Get along, you naughty boy! Get along, you sniveller, to your playmates!"
The panic-stricken boy in his desperation tried creeping under the table. Then his persecutor33, in a fury, took out his large batiste handkerchief and began flicking34 it under the table at the child, who kept perfectly quiet. It must be observed that Yulian Mastakovitch was a little inclined to be fat. He was a sleek35, red-faced, solidly built man, paunchy, with thick legs; what is called a fine figure of a man, round as a nut. He was perspiring36, breathless, and fearfully flushed. At last he was almost rigid37, so great was his indignation and perhaps—who knows?—his jealousy38. I burst into loud laughter. Yulian Mastakovitch turned round and, in spite of all his consequence, was overcome with confusion. At that moment from the opposite door our host came in. The boy crept out from under the table and wiped his elbows and his knees. Yulian Mastakovitch hastened to put to his nose the handkerchief which he was holding in his hand by one end.
Our host looked at the three of us in some perplexity; but as a man who knew something of life, and looked at it from a serious point of view, he at once availed himself of the chance of catching39 his visitor by himself.
"Here, this is the boy," he said, pointing to the red-haired boy, "for whom I had the honour to solicit40 your influence."
"Ah!" said Yulian Mastakovitch, who had hardly quite recovered himself.
"The son of my children's governess," said our host, in a tone of a petitioner41, "a poor woman, the widow of an honest civil servant; and therefore ... and therefore, Yulian Mastakovitch, if it were possible ..."
"Oh, no, no!" Yulian Mastakovitch made haste to answer; "no, excuse me, Filip Alexyevitch, it's quite impossible. I've made inquiries42; there's no vacancy43, and if there were, there are twenty applicants44 who have far more claim than he.... I am very sorry, very sorry...."
"What a pity," said our host. "He is a quiet, well-behaved boy."
"A great rascal, as I notice," answered Yulian Mastakovitch, with a nervous twist of his lip. "Get along, boy; why are you standing45 there? Go to your playmates," he said, addressing the child.
At that point he could not contain himself, and glanced at me out of one eye. I, too, could not contain myself, and laughed straight in his face. Yulian Mastakovitch turned away at once, and in a voice calculated to reach my ear, asked who was that strange young man? They whispered together and walked out of the room. I saw Yulian Mastakovitch afterwards shaking his head incredulously as our host talked to him.
After laughing to my heart's content I returned to the drawing-room. There the great man, surrounded by fathers and mothers of families, including the host and hostess, was saying something very warmly to a lady to whom he had just been introduced. The lady was holding by the hand the little girl with whom Yulian Mastakovitch had had the scene in the parlour a little while before. Now he was launching into praises and raptures46 over the beauty, the talents, the grace and the charming manners of the charming child. He was unmistakably making up to the mamma. The mother listened to him almost with tears of delight. The father's lips were smiling. Our host was delighted at the general satisfaction. All the guests, in fact, were sympathetically gratified; even the children's games were checked that they might not hinder the conversation: the whole atmosphere was saturated47 with reverence48. I heard afterwards the mamma of the interesting child, deeply touched, beg Yulian Mastakovitch, in carefully chosen phrases, to do her the special honour of bestowing49 upon them the precious gift of his acquaintance, and heard with what unaffected delight Yulian Mastakovitch accepted the invitation, and how afterwards the guests, dispersing50 in different directions, moving away with the greatest propriety51, poured out to one another the most touchingly52 flattering comments upon the contractor, his wife, his little girl, and, above all, upon Yulian Mastakovitch.
"Is that gentleman married?" I asked, almost aloud, of one of my acquaintances, who was standing nearest to Yulian Mastakovitch. Yulian Mastakovitch flung a searching and vindictive53 glance at me.
"No!" answered my acquaintance, chagrined54 to the bottom of his heart by the awkwardness of which I had intentionally55 been guilty....
* * * * *
I passed lately by a certain church; I was struck by the crowd of people in carriages. I heard people talking of the wedding. It was a cloudy day, it was beginning to sleet56. I made my way through the crowd at the door and saw the bridegroom. He was a sleek, well-fed, round, paunchy man, very gorgeously dressed up. He was running fussily57 about, giving orders. At last the news passed through the crowd that the bride was coming. I squeezed my way through the crowd and saw a marvellous beauty, who could scarcely have reached her first season. But the beauty was pale and melancholy58. She looked preoccupied59; I even fancied that her eyes were red with recent weeping. The classic severity of every feature of her face gave a certain dignity and seriousness to her beauty. But through that sternness and dignity, through that melancholy, could be seen the look of childish innocence60; something indescribably na?ve, fluid, youthful, which seemed mutely begging for mercy.
People were saying that she was only just sixteen. Glancing attentively61 at the bridegroom, I suddenly recognized him as Yulian Mastakovitch, whom I had not seen for five years. I looked at her. My God! I began to squeeze my way as quickly as I could out of the church. I heard people saying in the crowd that the bride was an heiress, that she had a dowry of five hundred thousand ... and a trousseau worth ever so much.
"It was a good stroke of business, though!" I thought as I made my way into the street.
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1
con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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lanky
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| adj.瘦长的 | |
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3
valiantly
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| adv.勇敢地，英勇地；雄赳赳 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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zealously
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| adv.热心地；热情地；积极地；狂热地 | |
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6
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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10
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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11
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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contractor
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| n.订约人，承包人，收缩肌 | |
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13
costliest
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| adj.昂贵的( costly的最高级 )；代价高的；引起困难的；造成损失的 | |
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14
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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17
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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18
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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19
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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21
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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22
prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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23
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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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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dulcet
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| adj.悦耳的 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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30
lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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31
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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32
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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33
persecutor
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| n. 迫害者 | |
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34
flicking
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的现在分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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35
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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40
solicit
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| vi.勾引；乞求；vt.请求，乞求；招揽(生意) | |
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41
petitioner
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| n.请愿人 | |
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42
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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43
vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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44
applicants
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| 申请人，求职人( applicant的名词复数 ) | |
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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
raptures
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| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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47
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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48
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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49
bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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50
dispersing
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| adj. 分散的 动词disperse的现在分词形式 | |
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51
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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52
touchingly
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| adv.令人同情地，感人地，动人地 | |
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53
vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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54
chagrined
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| adj.懊恼的，苦恼的v.使懊恼，使懊丧，使悔恨( chagrin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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56
sleet
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| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
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57
fussily
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| adv.无事空扰地，大惊小怪地，小题大做地 | |
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58
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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60
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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