At the beginning of the summer of 1850, a Russian nobleman, Count Kostia Petrovitch Leminof, had the misfortune to lose his wife suddenly, and in the flower of her beauty. She was his junior by twelve years. This cruel loss, for which he was totally unprepared, threw him into a state of profound melancholy1; and some months later, seeking to mitigate2 his grief by the distractions3 of travel, he left his domains4 near Moscow, never intending to return. Accompanied by his twin children, ten years of age, a priest who had served them as tutor, and a serf named Ivan, he repaired to Odessa, and then took passage on a merchant ship for Martinique. Disembarking at St. Pierre, he took lodgings5 in a remote part of the suburbs. The profound solitude6 which reigned7 there did not at first bring the consolation8 he had sought. It was not enough that he had left his native country, he would have changed the planet itself; and he complained that nature everywhere was too much alike. No locality seemed to him sufficiently9 a stranger to his experience, and in the deserted10 places, where the desperate restlessness of his heart impelled11 him, he imagined the reappearance of the obtrusive12 witnesses of his past joys, and of the misfortune by which they were suddenly terminated.
He had lived a year in Martinique when the yellow fever carried off one of his children. By a singular reaction in his vigorous temperament13, it was about this time that his somber14 melancholy gave way to a bitter and sarcastic15 gayety, more in harmony with his nature. From his early youth he had had a taste for jocularity, a mocking turn of spirit, seasoned by that ironical16 grace of manner peculiar17 to the great Moscovite nobleman, and resulting from the constant habit of trifling18 with men and events. His recovery did not, however, restore the agreeable manners which in former times had distinguished19 him in his intercourse20 with the world. Suffering had brought him a leaven21 of misanthropy, which he did not take the trouble of disguising; his voice had lost its caressing22 notes and had become rude and abrupt23; his actions were brusque, and his smile scornful. Sometimes his bearing gave evidence of a haughty24 will which, tyrannized over by events, sought to avenge25 itself upon mankind.
Terrible, however, as he sometimes was to those who surrounded him, Count Kostia was yet a civilized26 devil. So, after a stay of three years under tropical skies, he began to sigh for old Europe, and one fine day saw him disembark upon the quays27 of Lisbon. He crossed Portugal, Spain, the south of France and Switzerland. At Basle, he learned that on the borders of the Rhine, between Coblenz and Bonn, in a situation quite isolated28, an old castle was for sale. To this place he hurried and bought the antique walls and the lands which belonged to them, without discussing the price and without making a detailed29 examination of the property. The bargain concluded, he made some hasty and indispensable repairs on one of the buildings which composed a part of his dilapidated manor30, and which claimed the imposing31 name of the fortress32 of Geierfels, and at once installed himself therein, hoping to pass the rest of his life in peaceable and studious seclusion33.
Count Kostia was gifted with a quick and ready intellect, which he had strengthened by study. He had always been passionately34 fond of historical research, but above everything, knew and wished to know, only that which the English call "the matter of fact." He professed35 a cold scorn for generalities, and heartily36 abandoned them to "dreamers;" he laughed at all abstract theories and at the ingenuous37 minds which take them seriously. He held that all system was but logical infatuation; that the only pardonable follies39 were those which were frankly40 avowed41; and that only a pedant42 could clothe his imagination in geometrical theories. In general, pedantry43 to his eyes was the least excusable of vices44; he understood it to be the pretension45 of tracing back phenomena46 to first causes, "as if," said he, "there were any 'first causes,' or chance admitted of calculation!" This did not prevent him however from expending47 much logic38 to demonstrate that there was no such thing as logic, either in nature or in man.
These are inconsistencies for which skeptics never dream of reproaching themselves; they pass their lives in reasoning against reason. In short, Count Kostia respected nothing but facts, and believed that, properly viewed, there was nothing else, and that the universe, considered as an entirety, was but a collection of contradictory48 accidents.
A member of the Historical and Antiquarian Society of Moscow, he had once published important memoirs49 upon Slavonic antiquities50 and upon some of the disputed questions in the history of the Lower Empire. Hardly was he installed at Geierfels, before he occupied himself in fitting up his library, but a few volumes of which he had carried to Martinique. He at once ordered from Moscow most of the books he had left, and also sent large orders to German bookstores. When his "seraglio," as he called it, was nearly complete, he again became absorbed in study, and particularly in that of the Greek historians of the Byzantine Empire, of whose collective works he had the good fortune to possess the Louvre edition in thirty-six volumes folio; and he soon formed the ambitious project of writing a complete history of that Empire from Constantine the Great to the taking of Constantinople. So absorbed did he become in this great design, that he scarcely ate or drank; but the further he advanced in his researches the more he became dismayed by the magnitude of the enterprise, and he conceived the idea of procuring51 an intelligent assistant, upon whom he could shift a part of the task. As he proposed to write his voluminous work in French, it was in France this living instrument which he needed must be sought, and he therefore broached52 the project to Dr. Lerins, one of his old acquaintances in Paris. "For nearly three years," he wrote to the Doctor, "I have dwelt in a veritable owl's nest, and I should be much obliged to you if you would procure53 for me a young night bird, who could endure life two or three years in such an ugly hole without dying of ennui54. Understand me, I must have a secretary who is not contented55 with writing a fine hand and knowing French a little better than I do: I wish him to be a consummate56 philologist57, and a hellenist of the first order,—one of those men who ought to be met with in Paris,—born to belong to the Institute, but so dependent upon circumstances as to make that position impossible. If you succeed in finding this priceless being, I will give him the best room in my castle and a salary of twelve thousand francs. I stipulate58 that he shall not be a fool. As to character, I say nothing about it; he will do me the favor to have such as will suit me."
M. Lerins was intimate with a young man from Lorraine named Gilbert Saville, a savant of great merit, who had left Nancy several years before to seek his fortune in Paris. At the age of twenty-seven he had presented, in a competition opened by the Academy of Inscriptions59, an essay on the Etruscan language, which took the prize and was unanimously declared a masterpiece of sagacious erudition. He had hoped for some time that this first success, which had gained him renown60 among learned men, would aid him in obtaining some lucrative61 position and rescue him from the precarious62 situation in which he found himself. Nothing resulted from it. His merits compelled esteem63; the charm of his frank and courteous64 manner won him universal good will; his friends were numerous; he was well received and caressed65; he even obtained, without seeking it, the entree66 to more than one salon67, where he met men of standing68 who could be useful to him and assure him a successful future. All this however amounted to nothing, and no position was offered. What worked most to his prejudice was an independence of opinion and character which was a part of his nature. Only to look at him was to know that such a man could not be tied down, and the only language which this able philologist could not learn was the jargon69 of society. Add to this that Gilbert had a speculative70, dreamy temperament and the pride and indolence which are its accessories. To bestir himself and to importune71 were torture to him. A promise made to him could be forgotten with impunity72, for he was not the man to revive it; and besides, as he never complained himself, no one was disposed to complain for him. In short, among those who had been desirous of protecting and advancing him, it was said: "What need has he of our assistance? Such remarkable73 talent will make its own way." Others thought, without expressing it: "Let us be guarded, this is another Letronne,—once 'foot in the stirrup,' God only knows where he will stop." Others said and thought: "This young man is charming,—he is so discreet,—not like such and such a person." All those cited as not "discreet," were provided for.
The difficulties of his life had rendered Gilbert serious and reflective, but they had neither hardened his heart nor quenched74 his imagination. He was too wise to revolt against his fate, but determined75 to be superior to it. "Thou art all thou canst be," said he to himself; "but do not flatter thyself that thou hast reached the measure of my aspirations76."
After having read M. Leminof's letter, Dr. Lerins went in search of Gilbert. He described Count Kostia to him according to his remote recollections, but he asked him, before deciding, to weigh the matter deliberately77. After quitting his young friend he muttered to himself—
"After all, I hope he will refuse. He would be too much of a prize for that boyard. Of his very Muscovite face, I remember only an enormous pair of eyebrows78,—the loftiest and bushiest I ever saw, and perhaps there is nothing more of him! There are men who are all in the eyebrows!"
点击收听单词发音
1 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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2 mitigate | |
vt.(使)减轻,(使)缓和 | |
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3 distractions | |
n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 );娱乐,消遣;心烦意乱;精神错乱 | |
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4 domains | |
n.范围( domain的名词复数 );领域;版图;地产 | |
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5 lodgings | |
n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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6 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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7 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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8 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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9 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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10 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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11 impelled | |
v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12 obtrusive | |
adj.显眼的;冒失的 | |
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13 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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14 somber | |
adj.昏暗的,阴天的,阴森的,忧郁的 | |
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15 sarcastic | |
adj.讥讽的,讽刺的,嘲弄的 | |
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16 ironical | |
adj.讽刺的,冷嘲的 | |
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17 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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18 trifling | |
adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
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19 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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20 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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21 leaven | |
v.使发酵;n.酵母;影响 | |
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22 caressing | |
爱抚的,表现爱情的,亲切的 | |
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23 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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24 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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25 avenge | |
v.为...复仇,为...报仇 | |
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26 civilized | |
a.有教养的,文雅的 | |
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27 quays | |
码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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28 isolated | |
adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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29 detailed | |
adj.详细的,详尽的,极注意细节的,完全的 | |
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30 manor | |
n.庄园,领地 | |
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31 imposing | |
adj.使人难忘的,壮丽的,堂皇的,雄伟的 | |
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32 fortress | |
n.堡垒,防御工事 | |
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33 seclusion | |
n.隐遁,隔离 | |
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34 passionately | |
ad.热烈地,激烈地 | |
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35 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
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36 heartily | |
adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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37 ingenuous | |
adj.纯朴的,单纯的;天真的;坦率的 | |
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38 logic | |
n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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39 follies | |
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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40 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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41 avowed | |
adj.公开声明的,承认的v.公开声明,承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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42 pedant | |
n.迂儒;卖弄学问的人 | |
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43 pedantry | |
n.迂腐,卖弄学问 | |
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44 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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45 pretension | |
n.要求;自命,自称;自负 | |
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46 phenomena | |
n.现象 | |
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47 expending | |
v.花费( expend的现在分词 );使用(钱等)做某事;用光;耗尽 | |
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48 contradictory | |
adj.反驳的,反对的,抗辩的;n.正反对,矛盾对立 | |
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49 memoirs | |
n.回忆录;回忆录传( mem,自oir的名词复数) | |
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50 antiquities | |
n.古老( antiquity的名词复数 );古迹;古人们;古代的风俗习惯 | |
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51 procuring | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的现在分词 );拉皮条 | |
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52 broached | |
v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 );打开并开始用;用凿子扩大(或修光);(在桶上)钻孔取液体 | |
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53 procure | |
vt.获得,取得,促成;vi.拉皮条 | |
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54 ennui | |
n.怠倦,无聊 | |
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55 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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56 consummate | |
adj.完美的;v.成婚;使完美 [反]baffle | |
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57 philologist | |
n.语言学者,文献学者 | |
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58 stipulate | |
vt.规定,(作为条件)讲定,保证 | |
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59 inscriptions | |
(作者)题词( inscription的名词复数 ); 献词; 碑文; 证劵持有人的登记 | |
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60 renown | |
n.声誉,名望 | |
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61 lucrative | |
adj.赚钱的,可获利的 | |
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62 precarious | |
adj.不安定的,靠不住的;根据不足的 | |
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63 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
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64 courteous | |
adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
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65 caressed | |
爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66 entree | |
n.入场权,进入权 | |
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67 salon | |
n.[法]沙龙;客厅;营业性的高级服务室 | |
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68 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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69 jargon | |
n.术语,行话 | |
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70 speculative | |
adj.思索性的,暝想性的,推理的 | |
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71 importune | |
v.强求;不断请求 | |
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72 impunity | |
n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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73 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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74 quenched | |
解(渴)( quench的过去式和过去分词 ); 终止(某事物); (用水)扑灭(火焰等); 将(热物体)放入水中急速冷却 | |
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75 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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76 aspirations | |
强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 ); 志向; 发送气音; 发 h 音 | |
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77 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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78 eyebrows | |
眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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