However, there is no such difficulty in this case! Consequently, my present feeling is not that restless craving5 for love which torments6 us in the early days of our youth, flinging us from one woman to another until we find one who cannot endure us. And then begins our constancy—that sincere, unending passion which may be expressed mathematically by a line falling from a point into space—the secret of that endlessness lying only in the impossibility of attaining7 the aim, that is to say, the end.
From what motive8, then, am I taking all this trouble?—Envy of Grushnitski? Poor fellow!
He is quite undeserving of it. Or, is it the result of that ugly, but invincible, feeling which causes us to destroy the sweet illusions of our neighbour in order to have the petty satisfaction of saying to him, when, in despair, he asks what he is to believe:
“My friend, the same thing happened to me, and you see, nevertheless, that I dine, sup, and sleep very peacefully, and I shall, I hope, know how to die without tears and lamentations.”
There is, in sooth, a boundless9 enjoyment10 in the possession of a young, scarce-budded soul! It is like a floweret which exhales11 its best perfume at the kiss of the first ray of the sun. You should pluck the flower at that moment, and, breathing its fragrance12 to the full, cast it upon the road: perchance someone will pick it up! I feel within me that insatiate hunger which devours13 everything it meets upon the way; I look upon the sufferings and joys of others only from the point of view of their relation to myself, regarding them as the nutriment which sustains my spiritual forces. I myself am no longer capable of committing follies14 under the influence of passion; with me, ambition has been repressed by circumstances, but it has emerged in another form, because ambition is nothing more nor less than a thirst for power, and my chief pleasure is to make everything that surrounds me subject to my will. To arouse the feeling of love, devotion and awe15 towards oneself—is not that the first sign, and the greatest triumph, of power? To be the cause of suffering and joy to another—without in the least possessing any definite right to be so—is not that the sweetest food for our pride? And what is happiness?—Satisfied pride. Were I to consider myself the best, the most powerful man in the world, I should be happy; were all to love me, I should find within me inexhaustible springs of love. Evil begets16 evil; the first suffering gives us the conception of the satisfaction of torturing another. The idea of evil cannot enter the mind without arousing a desire to put it actually into practice. “Ideas are organic entities,” someone has said. The very fact of their birth endows them with form, and that form is action. He in whose brain the most ideas are born accomplishes the most. From that cause a genius, chained to an official desk, must die or go mad, just as it often happens that a man of powerful constitution, and at the same time of sedentary life and simple habits, dies of an apoplectic17 stroke.
Passions are naught18 but ideas in their first development; they are an attribute of the youth of the heart, and foolish is he who thinks that he will be agitated19 by them all his life. Many quiet rivers begin their course as noisy waterfalls, and there is not a single stream which will leap or foam20 throughout its way to the sea. That quietness, however, is frequently the sign of great, though latent, strength. The fulness and depth of feelings and thoughts do not admit of frenzied21 outbursts. In suffering and in enjoyment the soul renders itself a strict account of all it experiences and convinces itself that such things must be. It knows that, but for storms, the constant heat of the sun would dry it up! It imbues22 itself with its own life—pets and punishes itself like a favourite child. It is only in that highest state of self-knowledge that a man can appreciate the divine justice.
On reading over this page, I observe that I have made a wide digression from my subject... But what matter?... You see, it is for myself that I am writing this diary, and, consequently anything that I jot23 down in it will in time be a valuable reminiscence for me.
. . . . .
Grushnitski has called to see me to-day. He flung himself upon my neck; he has been promoted to be an officer. We drank champagne24. Doctor Werner came in after him.
“I do not congratulate you,” he said to Grushnitski.
“Why not?”
“Because the soldier’s cloak suits you very well, and you must confess that an infantry25 uniform, made by one of the local tailors, will not add anything of interest to you... Do you not see? Hitherto, you have been an exception, but now you will come under the general rule.”
“Talk away, doctor, talk away! You will not prevent me from rejoicing. He does not know,” added Grushnitski in a whisper to me, “how many hopes these epaulettes have lent me... Oh!... Epaulettes, epaulettes! Your little stars are guiding stars! No! I am perfectly26 happy now!”
“Are you coming with us on our walk to the hollow?” I asked him.
“I? Not on any account will I show myself to Princess Mary until my uniform is finished.”
“Would you like me to inform her of your happiness?”
“No, please, not a word... I want to give her a surprise”...
“Tell me, though, how are you getting on with her?”
He became embarrassed, and fell into thought; he would gladly have bragged27 and told lies, but his conscience would not let him; and, at the same time, he was ashamed to confess the truth.
“What do you think? Does she love you?”...
“Love me? Good gracious, Pechorin, what ideas you do have!... How could she possibly love me so soon?... And a well-bred woman, even if she is in love, will never say so”...
“Very well! And, I suppose, in your opinion, a well-bred man should also keep silence in regard to his passion?”...
“Ah, my dear fellow! There are ways of doing everything; often things may remain unspoken, but yet may be guessed”...
“That is true... But the love which we read in the eyes does not pledge a woman to anything, whilst words... Have a care, Grushnitski, she is befooling you!”
“She?” he answered, raising his eyes heavenward and smiling complacently29. “I am sorry for you, Pechorin!”...
He took his departure.
In the evening, a numerous company set off to walk to the hollow.
In the opinion of the learned of Pyatigorsk, the hollow in question is nothing more nor less than an extinct crater30. It is situated31 on a slope of Mount Mashuk, at the distance of a verst from the town, and is approached by a narrow path between brushwood and rocks. In climbing up the hill, I gave Princess Mary my arm, and she did not leave it during the whole excursion.
Our conversation commenced with slander32; I proceeded to pass in review our present and absent acquaintances; at first I exposed their ridiculous, and then their bad, sides. My choler rose. I began in jest, and ended in genuine malice33. At first she was amused, but afterwards frightened.
“You are a dangerous man!” she said. “I would rather perish in the woods under the knife of an assassin than under your tongue... In all earnestness I beg of you: when it comes into your mind to speak evil of me, take a knife instead and cut my throat. I think you would not find that a very difficult matter.”
“Am I like an assassin, then?”...
“You are worse”...
I fell into thought for a moment; then, assuming a deeply moved air, I said:
“Yes, such has been my lot from very childhood! All have read upon my countenance34 the marks of bad qualities, which were not existent; but they were assumed to exist—and they were born. I was modest—I was accused of slyness: I grew secretive. I profoundly felt both good and evil—no one caressed35 me, all insulted me: I grew vindictive36. I was gloomy—other children merry and talkative; I felt myself higher than they—I was rated lower: I grew envious37. I was prepared to love the whole world—no one understood me: I learned to hate. My colourless youth flowed by in conflict with myself and the world; fearing ridicule38, I buried my best feelings in the depths of my heart, and there they died. I spoke28 the truth—I was not believed: I began to deceive. Having acquired a thorough knowledge of the world and the springs of society, I grew skilled in the science of life; and I saw how others without skill were happy, enjoying gratuitously39 the advantages which I so unweariedly sought. Then despair was born within my breast—not that despair which is cured at the muzzle40 of a pistol, but the cold, powerless despair concealed41 beneath the mask of amiability42 and a good-natured smile. I became a moral cripple. One half of my soul ceased to exist; it dried up, evaporated, died, and I cut it off and cast it from me. The other half moved and lived—at the service of all; but it remained unobserved, because no one knew that the half which had perished had ever existed. But, now, the memory of it has been awakened43 within me by you, and I have read you its epitaph. To many, epitaphs in general seem ridiculous, but to me they do not; especially when I remember what reposes44 beneath them. I will not, however, ask you to share my opinion. If this outburst seems absurd to you, I pray you, laugh! I forewarn you that your laughter will not cause me the least chagrin45.”
At that moment I met her eyes: tears were welling in them. Her arm, as it leaned upon mine, was trembling; her cheeks were aflame; she pitied me! Sympathy—a feeling to which all women yield so easily, had dug its talons46 into her inexperienced heart. During the whole excursion she was preoccupied47, and did not flirt48 with anyone—and that is a great sign!
We arrived at the hollow; the ladies left their cavaliers, but she did not let go my arm. The witticisms49 of the local dandies failed to make her laugh; the steepness of the declivity50 beside which she was standing51 caused her no alarm, although the other ladies uttered shrill52 cries and shut their eyes.
On the way back, I did not renew our melancholy53 conversation, but to my idle questions and jests she gave short and absent-minded answers.
“Have you ever been in love?” I asked her at length.
She looked at me intently, shook her head and again fell into a reverie. It was evident that she was wishing to say something, but did not know how to begin. Her breast heaved... And, indeed, that was but natural! A muslin sleeve is a weak protection, and an electric spark was running from my arm to hers. Almost all passions have their beginning in that way, and frequently we are very much deceived in thinking that a woman loves us for our moral and physical merits; of course, these prepare and predispose the heart for the reception of the holy flame, but for all that it is the first touch that decides the matter.
“I have been very amiable54 to-day, have I not?” Princess Mary said to me, with a forced smile, when we had returned from the walk.
We separated.
She is dissatisfied with herself. She accuses herself of coldness... Oh, that is the first, the chief triumph!
To-morrow, she will be feeling a desire to recompense me. I know the whole proceeding55 by heart already—that is what is so tiresome56!
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1
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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allured
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| 诱引，吸引( allure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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7
attaining
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的现在分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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8
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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exhales
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的第三人称单数 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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devours
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| 吞没( devour的第三人称单数 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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15
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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begets
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| v.为…之生父( beget的第三人称单数 )；产生，引起 | |
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apoplectic
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| adj.中风的；愤怒的；n.中风患者 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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imbues
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的第三人称单数 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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23
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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24
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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25
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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26
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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bragged
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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29
complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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30
crater
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| n.火山口，弹坑 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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32
slander
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| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
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33
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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34
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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39
gratuitously
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| 平白 | |
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40
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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41
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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42
amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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43
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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44
reposes
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的第三人称单数 ) | |
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45
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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talons
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| n.（尤指猛禽的）爪( talon的名词复数 )；（如爪般的）手指；爪状物；锁簧尖状突出部 | |
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47
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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48
flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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49
witticisms
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| n.妙语，俏皮话( witticism的名词复数 ) | |
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50
declivity
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| n.下坡，倾斜面 | |
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51
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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52
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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53
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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54
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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55
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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56
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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