Book 1 Chapter 18

WHILE IN THE ROSTOVS' HALL they were dancing the sixth anglaise, while the weary orchestra played wrong notes, and the tired footmen and cooks were getting the supper, Count Bezuhov had just had his sixth stroke. The doctors declared that there was no hope of recovery; the sick man received absolution and the sacrament while unconscious. Preparations were being made for administering extreme unction, and the house was full of the bustle and thrill of suspense usual at such moments. Outside the house undertakers were crowding beyond the gates, trying to escape the notice of the carriages that drove up, but eagerly anticipating a good order for the count's funeral. The governor of Moscow, who had been constantly sending his adjutants to inquire after the count's condition, came himself that evening to say good-bye to the renowned grandee of Catherine's court, Count Bezuhov.

The magnificent reception-room was full. Every one stood up respectfully when the governor, after being half an hour alone with the sick man, came out of the sick-room. Bestowing scanty recognition on the bows with which he was received, he tried to escape as quickly as possible from the gaze of the doctors, ecclesiastical personages, and relations. Prince Vassily, who had grown paler and thinner during the last few days, escorted the governor out, and softly repeated something to him several times over.

After seeing the governor, Prince Vassily sat down on a chair in the hall alone, crossing one leg high over the other, leaning his elbow on his knee, and covering his eyes with his hand. After sitting so for some time he got up, and with steps more hurried than his wont, he crossed the long corridor, looking round him with frightened eyes, and went to the back part of the house to the apartments of the eldest princess.

The persons he had left in the dimly lighted reception-room, next to the sick-room, talked in broken whispers among themselves, pausing, and looking round with eyes full of suspense and inquiry whenever the door that led into the dying man's room creaked as some one went in or came out.

“Man's limitation,” said a little man, an ecclesiastic of some sort, to a lady, who was sitting near him listening na?vely to his words—“his limitation is fixed, there is no overstepping it.”

“I wonder if it won't be late for extreme unction?” inquired the lady, using his clerical title, and apparently having no opinion of her own on the matter.

“It is a great mystery, ma'am,” answered the clerk, passing his hands over his bald head, on which lay a few tresses of carefully combed, half grey hair.

“Who was that? was it the governor himself?” they were asking at the other end of the room. “What a young-looking man!”

“And he's over sixty!. … What, do they say, the count does not know any one? Do they mean to give extreme unction?”

“I knew a man who received extreme unction seven times.”

The second princess came out of the sick-room with tearful eyes, and sat down beside Doctor Lorrain, who was sitting in a graceful pose under the portrait of Catherine, with his elbow on the table.

“Very fine,” said the doctor in reply to a question about the weather; “very fine, princess, and besides, at Moscow, one might suppose oneself in the country.”

“Might one not?” said the princess, sighing. “So may he have something to drink?” Lorrain thought a moment.

“He has taken his medicine?”

“Yes.”

The doctor looked at his memoranda.

“Take a glass of boiled water and put in a pinch” (he showed with his delicate fingers what was meant by a pinch) “of cream of tartar.”

“There has never been a case,” said the German doctor to the adjutant, speaking broken Russian, “of recovery after having a third stroke.”

“And what a vigorous man he was!” said the adjutant. “And to whom will his great wealth go?” he added in a whisper.

“Candidates will be found,” the German replied, smiling. Every one looked round again at the door; it creaked, and the second princess having made the drink according to Lorrain's direction, carried it into the sick-room. The German doctor went up to Lorrain.

“Can it drag on till to-morrow morning?” asked the German, with a vile French accent.

Lorrain, with compressed lips and a stern face, moved his finger before his nose to express a negative.

“To-night, not later,” he said softly, and with a decorous smile of satisfaction at being able to understand and to express the exact position of the sick man, he walked away.

Meanwhile Prince Vassily had opened the door of the princess's room.

It was half dark in the room; there were only two lamps burning before the holy pictures, and there was a sweet perfume of incense and flowers. The whole room was furnished with miniature furniture, little sideboards, small bookcases, and small tables. Behind a screen could be seen the white coverings of a high feather-bed. A little dog barked.

“Ah, is that you, mon cousin?”

She got up and smoothed her hair, which was always, even now, so extraordinarily smooth that it seemed as though made out of one piece with her head and covered with varnish.

“Has anything happened?” she asked. “I am in continual dread.”

“Nothing, everything is unchanged. I have only come to have a little talk with you, Katish, about business,” said the prince, sitting down wearily in the low chair from which she had just risen. “How warm it is here, though,” he said. “Come, sit here; let us talk.”

“I wondered whether anything had happened,” said the princess, and with her stonily severe expression unchanged, she sat down opposite the prince, preparing herself to listen. “I have been trying to get some sleep, mon cousin, but I can't.”

“Well, my dear?” said Prince Vassily, taking the princess's hand, and bending it downwards as his habit was.

It was plain that this “well?” referred to much that they both comprehended without mentioning it in words.

The princess, with her spare, upright figure, so disproportionately long in the body, looked straight at the prince with no sign of emotion in her prominent grey eyes. She shook her head, and sighing looked towards the holy pictures. Her gesture might have been interpreted as an expression of grief and devotion, or as an expression of weariness and the hope of a speedy release. Prince Vassily took it as an expression of weariness.

“And do you suppose it's any easier for me?” he said. “I am as worn out as a post horse. I must have a little talk with you, Katish, and a very serious one.”

Prince Vassily paused. and his cheeks began twitching nervously, first on one side, then on the other, giving his face an unpleasant expression such as was never seen on his countenance when he was in drawing-rooms. His eyes, too, were different from usual: at one moment they stared with a sort of insolent jocoseness, at the next they looked round furtively.

The princess, pulling her dog on her lap with her thin, dry hands, gazed intently at the eyes of Prince Vassily, but it was evident that she would not break the silence, if she had to sit silent till morning.

“You see, my dear princess and cousin, Katerina Semyonovna,” pursued Prince Vassily, obviously with some inner conflict bracing himself to go on with what he wanted to say, “at such moments as the present, one has to think of everything. One must think of the future, of you … I care for all of you as if you were my own children; you know that.”

The princess looked at him with the same dull immovable gaze.

“Finally, we have to think of my family too,” continued Prince Vassily, angrily pushing away a little table and not looking at her: “you know, Katish, that you three Mamontov sisters and my wife,—we are the only direct heirs of the count. I know, I know how painful it is for you to speak and think of such things. And it's as hard for me; but, my dear, I am a man over fifty, I must be ready for anything. Do you know that I have sent for Pierre, and that the count, pointing straight at his portrait, has asked for him?”

Prince Vassily looked inquiringly at the princess, but he could not make out whether she was considering what he had said, or was simply staring at him.

“I pray to God for one thing only continually, mon cousin,” she replied, “that He may have mercy upon him, and allow his noble soul to leave this …”

“Yes, quite so,” Prince Vassily continued impatiently, rubbing his bald head and again wrathfully moving the table towards him that he had just moved away, “but in fact … in fact the point is, as you are yourself aware, that last winter the count made a will by which, passing over his direct heirs and us, he bequeathed all his property to Pierre.”

“He may have made ever so many wills!” the princess said placidly; “but he can't leave it to Pierre. Pierre is illegitimate.”

“Ma chère,” said Prince Vassily suddenly, pushing the table against him, growing more earnest and beginning to speak more rapidly: “but what if a letter has been written to the Emperor, and the count has petitioned him to legitimise Pierre? You understand, that the count's services would make his petition carry weight …”

The princess smiled, as people smile who believe that they know much more about the subject than those with whom they are talking.

“I can say more,” Prince Vassily went on, clasping her hand; “that letter has been written, though it has not been sent off, and the Emperor has heard about it. The question only is whether it has been destroyed or not. If not, as soon as all is over,” Prince Vassily sighed, giving her thereby to understand what he meant precisely by the words “all is over,” “and they open the count's papers, the will with the letter will be given to the Emperor, and his petition will certainly be granted. Pierre, as the legitimate son, will receive everything.”

“What about our share?” the princess inquired, smiling ironically as though anything but that might happen.

“Why, my poor Katish, it is as clear as daylight. He will then be the only legal heir of all, and you won't receive as much as this, see. You ought to know, my dear, whether the will and the petition were written, and whether they have been destroyed, and if they have somehow been overlooked, then you ought to know where they are and to find them, because …”

“That would be rather too much!” the princess interrupted him, smiling sardonically, with no change in the expression of her eyes. “I am a woman, and you think we are all silly; but I do know so much, that an illegitimate son can't inherit … Un batard,” she added, supposing that by this translation of the word she was conclusively proving to the prince the groundlessness of his contention.

“How can you not understand, Katish, really! You are so intelligent; how is it you don't understand that if the count has written a letter to the Emperor, begging him to recognise his son as legitimate, then Pierre will not be Pierre but Count Bezuhov, and then he will inherit everything under the will? And if the will and the letter have not been destroyed, then except the consolation of having been dutiful and of all that results from having done your duty, nothing is left for you. That's the fact.”

“I know that the will was made, but I know, too, that it is invalid, and you seem to take me for a perfect fool, mon cousin,” said the princess, with the air with which women speak when they imagine they are saying something witty and biting.

“My dear princess, Katerina Semyonovna!” Prince Vassily began impatiently, “I have come to you not to provoke you, but to talk to you as a kinswoman, a good, kind-hearted, true kinswoman, of your own interests. I tell you for the tenth time that if the letter to the Emperor and the will in Pierre's favour are among the count's papers, you, my dear girl, and your sisters are not heiresses. If you don't believe me, believe people who know; I have just been talking to Dmitry Onufritch” (this was the family solicitor); “he said the same.”

There was obviously some sudden change in the princess's ideas; her thin lips turned white (her eyes did not change), and when she began to speak, her voice passed through transitions, which she clearly did not herself anticipate.

“That would be a pretty thing,” she said. “I wanted nothing, and I want nothing.” She flung her dog off her lap and smoothed out the folds of her skirt.

“That's the gratitude, that's the recognition people get who have sacrificed everything for him,” she said. “Very nice! Excellent! I don't want anything, prince.”

“Yes, but you are not alone, you have sisters,” answered Prince Vassily. But the princess did not heed him.

“Yes, I knew it long ago, but I'd forgotten that I could expect nothing in this house but baseness, deceit, envy, scheming, nothing but ingratitude, the blackest ingratitude …”

“Do you or do you not know where that will is?” asked Prince Vassily, the twitching of his cheeks more marked than ever.

“Yes, I have been foolish; I still kept faith in people, and cared for them and sacrificed myself. But no one succeeds except those who are base and vile. I know whose plotting this is.”

The princess would have risen, but the prince held her by the arm. The princess had the air of a person who has suddenly lost faith in the whole human race. She looked viciously at her companion.

“There is still time, my dear. Remember, Katish, that all this was done heedlessly, in a moment of anger, of illness, and then forgotten. Our duty, my dear girl, is to correct his mistake, to soften his last moments by not letting him commit this injustice, not letting him die with the thought that he has made miserable those …”

“Those who have sacrificed everything for him,” the princess caught him up; and she made an impulsive effort again to stand up, but the prince would not let her, “a sacrifice he has never known how to appreciate. No, mon cousin,” she added, with a sigh, “I will remember that one can expect no reward in this world, that in this world there is no honour, no justice. Cunning and wickedness is what one wants in this world.”

“Come, voyons, calm yourself; I know your noble heart.”

“No, I have a wicked heart.”

“I know your heart,” repeated the prince. “I value your affection, and I could wish you had the same opinion of me. Calm yourself and let us talk sensibly while there is time—perhaps twenty-four hours, perhaps one. Tell me all you know about the will, and what's of most consequence, where it is; you must know. We will take it now at once and show it to the count. He has no doubt forgotten about it and would wish to destroy it. You understand that my desire is to carry out his wishes religiously. That is what I came here for. I am only here to be of use to him and to you.”

“Now I see it all. I know whose plotting this is. I know,” the princess was saying.

“That's not the point, my dear.”

“It's all your precious Anna Mihalovna, your protégée whom I wouldn't take as a housemaid, the nasty creature.”

“Do not let us waste time.”

“Oh, don't talk to me! Last winter she forced her way in here and told such a pack of vile, mean tales to the count about all of us, especially Sophie—I can't repeat them—that it made the count ill, and he wouldn't see us for a fortnight. It was at that time, I know, he wrote that hateful, infamous document, but I thought it was of no consequence.”

“There we are. Why didn't you tell us about it before?”

“It's in the inlaid portfolio that he keeps under his pillow. Now I know,” said the princess, making no reply. “Yes, if I have a sin to my account, a great sin, it's my hatred of that infamous woman,” almost shrieked the princess, utterly transformed. “And why does she force herself in here? But I'll have it out with her. The time will come!”

当人们在乐师因困倦而弹奏走调的音乐伴奏下正跳第六节英吉利兹舞、疲乏的堂倌和伙夫正准备晚膳的时候，别祖霍夫伯爵第六次罹患中风病。大夫们宣布，他已经没有痊愈的希望了，有人给病人做了忏悔仪式和圣餐仪式，并且还做了涂圣油仪式的准备。平素在这种时刻，这所住宅里的人总是乱哄哄的，惶恐不安地期待。卖棺材的人都聚集在住宅大门外，遇有马车驶近，便躲到一边去，他们等着承做安葬伯爵的棺材，赚一笔大钱。莫斯科军区总司令不断派遣副官来打听伯爵的病情，这天晚上他亲自乘车前来和叶卡捷琳娜时代的大官别祖霍夫伯爵作临终告别。

华美的接待室挤满了人。当军区总司令独自和病人一起呆了半小时左右，走出门来的时候，大家都肃然起敬地站立起来，他微微鞠躬答礼，想尽快地从凝视他的大夫、神职人员和亲戚身边走过去。这些日子里，瓦西里公爵显得消瘦，脸色苍白，他伴送着军区总司令，轻声向他反复地说着什么话。

瓦西里公爵送走军区总司令后，独自一人在大厅的一把椅子上坐下来，他把一条腿高高地架在另一条腿上，用臂肘撑着膝头，用手捂住眼睛。他这样坐了片刻，便站立起来，用惊恐的目光向四下环顾一番，不像惯常那样，他迈着急急匆匆的脚步，经过走廊，到住宅后院去找公爵的大小姐了。

在灯光暗淡的房间里，人们彼此窃窃私语，声音若断若续，每当有人从通往行将就木者的寝室门口进出，房门发出微弱响声时，人们就寂然无声，用那洋溢着疑问和期待的目光，望望那扇房门。

“人的命运，”一个年老的神职人员对坐在他近旁、稚气地听他说话的女士说道，“命是注定的，不可逾越的。”

“我想，举行涂圣油仪式为时不晚吧？”这位女士补充说出神职人员的头衔，问道，仿佛她在这一点上毫无意见似的。

“大娘，这种圣礼仪式是很隆重的。”神职人员答道，一面用手摸摸那盖有几绺往后梳的斑白头发的秃顶。

“他究竟是谁？是军区总司令本人？”有人在房间的另一端问道，“他显得多么年轻啊！……”

“六十多岁了！据说，伯爵已经认不得他了，是吗？大家想举行涂圣油仪式吗？”

“有个人我可知道哩，他受过七次涂圣油礼了。”

公爵的二小姐从病人寝室里走出来，两眼泪痕斑斑，她在罗兰大夫身旁坐下，这位大夫用臂肘撑在桌子上，姿势优美地坐在叶卡捷琳娜画像下面。

“Tr'èsbeau，”大夫在回答有关天气问题时，说道，“trèsbeau，princesse，etpuis，àMoscouonsecroitàlacomBpagne．”①

“N'est—ce—pas？”②公爵小姐叹息道，“可以让他喝水吗？”

罗兰沉思起来。

“他服了药吗？”

“服过了。”

大夫看了看卜列格怀表。

“请您拿一杯开水，放进unepincée（他用那纤细的指头表示unepincée是什么涵义）decremortartari……”③

①法语：很好——公爵小姐，天气很好，而且，莫斯科和乡下很相像。

②法语：是真的？

③法语：一小撮酒石。

“没有患了三次中风还能幸存的事，”德国大夫对副官说道。

“他从前是个精力多么充沛的男人啊！”副官说道。“这份财产以后归什么人？”他轻言细语地补充一句。

“自愿当继承人的准会有的。”德国人面露微笑，答道。

大家又向门口望了一眼，门吱呀一声响了，公爵的二小姐依照罗兰的指点做好了饮料，送到病人那里。德国大夫向罗兰面前走去。

“大概他还能拖到明天早上吧？”德国人说着一口蹩脚的法国话问道。

罗兰撇一撇嘴唇，在鼻子前严肃地挥动指头，表示不赞同。

“今天夜晚，不会更晚。”他轻声说道，他因为能够明确地了解并说明病人的病情而洋洋自得，他脸上露出文质彬彬的笑意，走开了。

与此同时，瓦西里公爵打开了公爵小姐的房门。

房间里半明半暗。神像前面只点着两盏长明灯。神香和花朵散发着沁人的幽香。这个房间摆满了小柜子、小橱子、茶几之类的小家具。围屏后面看得见垫上绒毛褥子的高卧榻上铺着雪白的罩单。

“哦，是您呀，我的表兄吗？”

她站起身来，把头发弄平，她的头发向来是，甚至目前也是又平又光的，宛如头发和脑袋是用同一块原料造成的，头发又上了一层油漆。

“怎么，出了什么事吗？”她问道，“我真害怕得不得了。”

“没有什么，还是那个样子，卡季什，我只是来和你谈一件事情，”公爵说道，困倦地坐在她刚刚坐过的安乐椅上，“可是，你把这张椅子坐热了，”他说道，“到这里来坐吧，cauBsons。”①

①法语：我们谈谈。

“我原以为出了什么事呢，”公爵小姐说，带着总是那样严肃而呆板的面部表情在公爵对面坐下，准备听他说话。

“我的表兄，我想熟睡一会儿，就是没法睡着。”

“我亲爱的，怎么样？”瓦西里公爵说道，他一把握住公爵小姐的手，习惯地轻轻一按。

可以看出，“怎么样”这几个字是有关他们两人不开口也能相互了解的许多事情。

公爵小姐的腰身干瘦而僵直，和腿比起来显得太长了，一对灰眼睛突出来，直楞楞地、冷冰冰地端详着公爵。她摇摇头，叹口气，望了望神像。她的姿态可以说明她无限忠诚，但内心忧愁，也可以说明她非常劳累，希望快点得到休息，瓦西里公爵把她的姿态说成是困倦的表示。

“而我觉得，”他说道，“你以为我觉得更轻快吗？Jesuisèreintè，commeunchevaldeposte，①卡季什，可是我还要和你谈谈，很认真地谈谈。”

①法语：我疲乏透了，像一匹驿马。

瓦西里公爵沉默不言，他的两颊时而这边时而那边神经过敏地抽搐起来，使得他的脸庞带有他在客厅里驻足时从未有过的令人不悦的表情。他的眼神也一反常态，时而放肆无礼地、滑稽可笑地望人，时而惊惶失措地环顾四周。

公爵小姐用一双干瘦的手把那只小狗抱在膝头上，聚精会神地望着瓦西里公爵的眼睛。可是，看起来，她即令沉默不言呆到早晨，也没法提出问题来打破这种静默。

“我亲爱的公爵小姐，表妹，卡捷琳娜·谢苗诺夫娜，你是不是知道，”瓦西里公爵说道，看起来，要继续把话说下去，内心斗争不是没有的，“像现在这种时刻，什么都应当考虑考虑，应当考虑到将来，考虑到你们……我爱你们就像爱自己的孩子一样，这一点你是知道的。”

公爵小姐还是那样目光暗淡、滞然不动地望着他。

“最后，还应当考虑考虑我的家庭，”瓦西里公爵恼怒地推开自己身边的茶几，两眼没有望着她，继续说下去，“卡季什，你知道，你们马蒙托夫家的三个姐妹，可还有我的妻子，唯独我们才是伯爵的直系继承人。我晓得，我晓得，说这些事情，想这些事情，你觉得非常难受。我也不觉得轻松；可是，我的朋友，我有五十多岁了，一切事都要有所准备。我派了人去接皮埃尔，伯爵用手笔直地指着他的肖像，要他到他那里来，你知不知道？”

瓦西里公爵以疑问的眼神望望公爵小姐，但他没法弄明白，她是否在想他对她说的话，还是随便地望着他……“我为一桩事一直都在祷告上帝，moncousin，”她答道，“祈祷上帝宽恕他，让他高尚的灵魂平安地离开这个……”

“对，是这样的，”瓦西里公爵心情急躁地继续说下去，一面用手搓着秃头，愤愤地把推开的茶几移到身边来，“可是，到头来，到头来，问题就在于，你自己知道，去冬伯爵写了遗嘱，把他的全部产业留给皮埃尔，我们这些直系继承人都没有份了。”

“遗嘱随他去写吧，没有关系，”公爵小姐心平气和地说道，“但是他不能把遗产交给皮埃尔。皮埃尔是个私生子。”

“machère，”瓦西里公爵忽然说道，他紧紧贴着茶几，露出兴致勃勃的样子，说话的速度更快了，“假如伯爵禀告国王，请求立皮埃尔为子，那可怎么是好？你明白，就凭伯爵的功勋，他的请求是会受到尊重的……”

一些人以为他们自己比谈话对方知道的情形更多，他们就会面露微笑的，公爵小姐也同样地微微一笑。

“我还有更多的话要对你说，”瓦西里公爵一把抓着她的手，继续说下去，“信是写好了，尽管还没有寄上，国王也知道底细，只不过问题在于，这封信是否烧毁。若是没有焚毁，不久的将来一切都会完蛋的。”瓦西里公爵叹口气，用以使人家明白，“一切都会完蛋”的是有什么含义，“伯爵的文件一被拆开，遗嘱及信函就要呈交国王，他的请求大概会得到尊重的。皮埃尔作为合法的儿子就能获得一切产业。”

“而我们的那一份遗产呢？”公爵小姐问道，讥讽地微笑，好像一切都会发生，只有这桩事不会发生似的。

“Mais，mapauvreCatiche，c'estclair，commelejour，①那时候，只有他一人才是全部遗产的合法继承人，你们一定得不到自己的这一份。我亲爱的，你必须知道，遗嘱和奏疏是否已经写好了，或者已经烧毁了。假如这两样被人置之脑后，那你就应当知道这些东西搁在哪里，并且一一找到，因为……”

“竟有如此愚蠢之事！”公爵小姐打断他的话，露出恶意的微笑，也没有改变眼睛的表情，“我是个女人，依您看，我们都是些蠢货。可是，据我所知，私生子不能继承遗产……unbatard，”②她补充一句，以为通过翻译，可以使公爵彻底明了他缺乏继承的充分理由。

①法语：可是，卡季什，这是一清二楚的事啊。

②法语：私生子。

“卡季什，你怎么总不明白！你这样聪明，怎么不明白；倘使伯爵给国王写了奏疏，请求国王承认他的儿子是合法的。这么说，皮埃尔已经不是皮埃尔，而是别祖霍夫伯爵了，到那时他可凭遗嘱获得全部遗产吗？倘使遗嘱和奏疏未被烧毁，那末，你除了具有高尚品德，聊以自慰而外，什么也捞不到。

这是千真万确的话。”

“我知道，遗嘱已经写好了，但是我也知道，遗嘱不生效，您似乎认为我是个十足的蠢货，moncousin，”公爵小姐说道，她那神态，俨如那些认为自己说了侮辱性的俏皮话的女人的神态一样。

“你是我的亲爱的公爵小姐卡捷琳娜·谢苗诺夫娜！”瓦西里公爵急躁地说道，“我到你这里来不是要和你争吵，而是要和一个亲人、一个善良、诚挚的亲人谈谈你的切身利益问题。我第十次告诉你，倘使伯爵的文件中附有呈送国王的奏疏和对皮埃尔有利的遗嘱，那末，我亲爱的，你和你的几个妹妹都不是遗产继承人了。假若你不相信我，你就相信知情人吧：我方才跟德米特里·奥努夫里伊奇（他是个家庭律师）谈过话，他也是这样说的。”

显然，公爵小姐的思想上忽然起了什么变化，她那薄薄的嘴唇变得苍白了（眼睛还是那个样子），当她开口说话时，嗓音时断时续，显然这并非她自己意料的事。

“这样挺好啊，”她说道，“我从前不想要什么，现在也不想要什么。”

她把那小狗从膝盖上扔下去，弄平连衣裙的皱褶。

“这就是谢忱，这就是对为他牺牲一切的人们的感激之情，”她说道，“好极了！很好！公爵，我什么都不要了。”

“是的，可你不是一个人，你有几个妹妹。”瓦西里公爵答道。

但是公爵小姐不听他说话。

“是的，这是我早就知道的事，可是我已经置之脑后了。除了卑鄙、骗局、嫉妒、阴谋诡计，除了忘恩负义，黑心眼的忘恩负义，我在这栋住宅里什么也不能期待……”

“你知道，还是不知道这份遗嘱搁在什么地方？”瓦西里公爵问道，他的两颊痉挛得比先前更加厉害了。

“是的，我十分愚蠢，还轻信人们，喜爱他们，并且牺牲我自己。可是只有那班卑鄙恶劣的坏人才会得心应手。我晓得这是谁搞的阴谋诡计。”

公爵小姐想站立起来，可是公爵紧紧地握住她的手，不让她走。公爵小姐露出那副样子，就像一个人突然对全人类感到悲观失望似的；她愤恨地望着交谈的对方。

“我的朋友，时间还是有的。卡季什，你要记住，这种种事情都是无意中发生的，是在气忿和罹病之际发生的，之后就遗忘了。我亲爱的，我们的义务就是要纠正他的错误，不让他做出这等不公允的事，减轻他临终之时的疾苦，不让他在心里想到使那些人不幸时死去……”

“那些为他而牺牲一切的人，”公爵小姐应声说道，又挣扎着想要站起来，可是公爵不放她走，“他从来不会器重他们。不，moncousin，”她叹息地补充说，“我要铭记，在这尘世上不能期待奖励，在这尘世上既无荣誉，亦无公理。在这尘世上就要狡猾，凶恶。”

“行了，voyons，①安静下来吧，你的好心肠我是知道的。”

①法语：行了。

“不，我的心肠恶毒。”

“你的心我是知道的，”公爵重复地说道，“我珍惜你的友谊，希望你对我抱有同样的观点。安静下来吧，parlonsraiBson①，时间还是有的，也许会有一昼夜，也许只有一个钟头，你把你所知道的有关遗嘱的情况全部说给我听吧，主要的是，遗嘱搁在哪儿，你应当知道。我们立刻把它拿给伯爵过目，他大概把它遗忘了，他想把它毁掉。你心里明白，我唯一的心愿就是神圣地履行他的意愿，正是为了这一层，我才走到这里来。我呆在这儿只是为着帮助他，也帮助你们。”

“现在我什么都明白了。我晓得这是谁搞的阴谋诡计。我晓得。”公爵小姐说道。

“我的心肝，不是那么回事。”

“她就是您的被保护人，您的亲爱的安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜，这个卑劣、可恶的女人，给我做婢女我都不愿意接受。”

“Neperdonspointdetemps．”②

“唉，您甭说了吧！她去冬悄悄窜到这里来，向伯爵说了许多骂我们大家，特别是骂索菲的卑鄙龌龊的话，真叫我没法再说一遍，伯爵给弄得害病了，一连两个礼拜不愿意和我们见面。我知道就在这时候他写了这份令人厌恶的文件，不过我以为这份文件是毫无意义的。”

“Nousyvoila③，你干嘛不早点说给我听呢？”

①法语：我们正经地谈谈吧。

②法语：我们甭浪费时间吧。

③法语：问题也就在这里。

“在他枕头底下的嵌花皮包里。我现在知道了，”公爵小姐不回答他的话，说道，“是的，设若我有罪孽，弥天的罪孽，这就是我痛恨这个可恶的女人，”公爵小姐几乎要叫喊起来，脸色全变了，“她干嘛悄悄窜到这里来？我把要说的话向她一股脑儿说出来，到时候一股脑儿说出来！”