“You see what sort of people go into this work? Even elderly people who have drunk the cup of misery3 to the bottom, who have worked, and for whom it is time to rest. And there they are! But you are young, sensible! Ah, Stepan!”
The thick, moist voice of the peasant responded:
“Such an affair — you mustn’t take it up without thinking over it. Just wait a little while!”
“I’ve heard you say so before.” The sounds dropped, and rose again. The voice of Stepan rang out:
“You must do it this way — at first you must take each peasant aside and speak to him by himself — for instance, to Makov Alesha, a lively man — can read and write — was wronged by the police; Shorin Sergey, also a sensible peasant; Knyazev, an honest, bold man, and that’ll do to begin with. Then we’ll get a group together, we look about us — yes. We must learn how to find her; and we ourselves must take a look at the people about whom she spoke4. I’ll shoulder my ax and go off to the city myself, making out I’m going there to earn money by splitting wood. You must proceed carefully in this matter. She’s right when she says that the price a man has is according to his own estimate of himself — and this is an affair in which you must set a high value on yourself when once you take it up. There’s that peasant! See! You can put him even before God, not to speak of before a police commissioner5. He won’t yield. He stands for his own firmly — up to his knees in it. And Nikita, why his honor was suddenly pricked6 — a marvel7? No. If the people will set out in a friendly way to do something together, they’ll draw everybody after them.”
“Friendly! They beat a man in front of your eyes, and you stand with your mouths wide open.”
“You just wait a little while. He ought to thank God we didn’t beat him ourselves, that man. Yes, indeed. Sometimes the authorities compel you to beat, and you do beat. Maybe you weep inside yourself with pity, but still you beat. People don’t dare to decline from beastliness — they’ll be killed themselves for it. They command you, ‘Be what I want you to be — a wolf, a pig’— but to be a man is prohibited. And a bold man they’ll get rid of — send to the next world. No. You must contrive8 for many to get bold at once, and for all to arise suddenly.”
He whispered for a long time, now lowering his voice so that the mother scarcely could hear, and now bursting forth9 powerfully. Then the woman would stop him. “S-sh, you’ll wake her.”
The mother fell into a heavy dreamless sleep.
Tatyana awakened10 her in the early twilight11, when the dusk still peered through the window with blank eyes, and when brazen12 sounds of the church bell floated and melted over the village in the gray, cold stillness.
“I have prepared the samovar. Take some tea or you’ll be cold if you go out immediately after getting up.”
Stepan, combing his tangled13 beard, asked the mother solicitously14 how to find her in the city. To-day the peasant’s face seemed more finished to her. While they drank tea he remarked, smiling:
“How wonderfully things happen!”
“What?” asked Tatyana.
“Why, this acquaintance — so simply.”
The mother said thoughtfully, but confidently:
“In this affair there’s a marvelous simplicity15 in everything.”
The host and hostess restrained themselves from demonstrativeness in parting with her; they were sparing of words, but lavish16 in little attentions for her comfort.
Sitting in the post, the mother reflected that this peasant would begin to work carefully, noiselessly, like a mole17, without cease, and that at his side the discontented voice of his wife would always sound, and the dry burning gleam in her green eyes would never die out of her so long as she cherished the revengeful wolfish anguish18 of a mother for lost children.
The mother recalled Rybin — his blood, his face, his burning eyes, his words. Her heart was compressed again with a bitter feeling of impotence; and along the entire road to the city the powerful figure of black-bearded Mikhail with his torn shirt, his hands bound behind his back, his disheveled head, clothed in wrath19 and faith in his truth, stood out before her on the drab background of the gray day. And as she regarded the figure, she thought of the numberless villages timidly pressed to the ground; of the people, faint-heartedly and secretly awaiting the coming of truth; and of the thousands of people who senselessly and silently work their whole lifetime without awaiting the coming of anything.
Life represented itself to her as an unplowed, hilly field which mutely awaits the workers and promises a harvest to free and honest hands: “Fertilize me with seeds of reason and truth; I will return them to you a hundredfold.”
When from afar she saw the roofs and spires20 of the city, a warm joy animated21 and eased her perturbed22, worn heart. The preoccupied23 faces of those people flashed up in her memory who, from day to day, without cease, in perfect confidence kindle24 the fire of thought and scatter25 the sparks over the whole earth. Her soul was flooded by the serene26 desire to give these people her entire force, and — doubly the love of a mother, awakened and animated by their thoughts.
At home Nikolay opened the door for the mother. He was disheveled and held a book in his hand.
“Already?” he exclaimed joyfully27. “You’ve returned very quickly. Well, I’m glad, very glad.”
His eyes blinked kindly29 and briskly behind his glasses. He quickly helped her off with her wraps, and said with an affectionate smile:
“And here in my place, as you see, there was a search last night. And I wondered what the reason for it could possibly be — whether something hadn’t happened to you. But you were not arrested. If they had arrested you they wouldn’t have let me go either.”
He led her into the dining room, and continued with animation30: “However, they suggested that I should be discharged from my position. That doesn’t distress31 me. I was sick, anyway, of counting the number of horseless peasants, and ashamed to receive money for it, too; for the money actually comes from them. It would have been awkward for me to leave the position of my own accord. I am under obligations to the comrades in regard to work. And now the matter has found its own solution. I’m satisfied!”
The mother sat down and looked around. One would have supposed that some powerful man in a stupid fit of insolence32 had knocked the walls of the house from the outside until everything inside had been jolted33 down. The portraits were scattered34 on the floor; the wall paper was torn away and stuck out in tufts; a board was pulled out of the flooring; a window sill was ripped away; the floor by the oven was strewn with ashes. The mother shook her head at the sight of this familiar picture.
“They wanted to show that they don’t get money for nothing,” remarked Nikolay.
On the table stood a cold samovar, unwashed dishes, sausages, and cheese on paper, along with plates, crumbs35 of bread, books, and coals from the samovar. The mother smiled. Nikolay also laughed in embarrassment36, following the look of her eyes.
“It was I who didn’t waste time in completing the picture of the upset. But never mind, Nilovna, never mind! I think they’re going to come again. That’s the reason I didn’t pick it all up. Well, how was your trip?”
The mother started at the question. Rybin arose before her; she felt guilty at not having told of him immediately. Bending over a chair, she moved up to Nikolay and began her narrative37. She tried to preserve her calm in order not to omit something as a result of excitement.
“They caught him!”
A quiver shot across Nikolay’s face.
“They did? How?”
The mother stopped his questions with a gesture of her hand, and continued as if she were sitting before the very face of justice and bringing in a complaint regarding the torture of a man. Nikolay threw himself back in his chair, grew pale, and listened, biting his lips. He slowly removed his glasses, put them on the table, and ran his hand over his face as if wiping away invisible cobwebs. The mother had never seen him wear so austere38 an expression.
When she concluded he arose, and for a minute paced the floor in silence, his fists thrust deep into his pockets. Conquering his agitation39 he looked almost calmly with a hard gleam in his eyes into the face of the mother, which was covered with silent tears.
“Nilovna, we mustn’t waste time! Let us try, dear comrade, to take ourselves in hand.” Then he remarked through his teeth:
“He must be a remarkable40 fellow — such nobility! It’ll be hard for him in prison. Men like him feel unhappy there.” Stepping in front of the mother he exclaimed in a ringing voice: “Of course, all the commissioners41 and sergeants42 are nothings. They are sticks in the hands of a clever villain43, a trainer of animals. But I would kill an animal for allowing itself to be turned into a brute44!” He restrained his excitement, which, however, made itself felt to the mother’s perceptions. Again he strode through the room, and spoke in wrath: “See what horror! A gang of stupid people, protesting their pernicious power over the people, beat, stifle45, oppress everybody. Savagery46 grows apace; cruelty becomes the law of life. A whole nation is depraved. Think of it! One part beats and turns brute; from immunity47 to punishment, sickens itself with a voluptuous48 greed of torture — that disgusting disease of slaves licensed49 to display all the power of slavish feelings and cattle habits. Others are poisoned with the desire for vengeance50. Still others, beaten down to stupidity, become dumb and blind. They deprave the nation, the whole nation!” He stopped, leaning his elbows against the doorpost. He clasped his head in both hands, and was silent, his teeth set.
“You involuntarily turn a beast yourself in this beastly life!”
Smiling sadly, he walked up to her, and bending over her asked, pressing her hand: “Where is your valise?”
“In the kitchen.”
“A spy is standing51 at our gate. We won’t be able to get such a big mass of papers out of the way unnoticed. There’s no place to hide them in and I think they’ll come again to-night. I don’t want you to be arrested. So, however sorry we may be for the lost labor52, let’s burn the papers.”
“What?”
“Everything in the valise!”
She finally understood; and though sad, her pride in her success brought a complacent53 smile to her face.
“There’s nothing in it — no leaflets.” With gradually increasing animation she told how she had placed them in the hands of sympathetic peasants after Rybin’s departure. Nikolay listened, at first with an uneasy frown, then in surprise, and finally exclaimed, interrupting her story:
“Say, that’s capital! Nilovna, do you know —” He stammered54, embarrassed, and pressing her hand, exclaimed quietly: “You touch me so by your faith in people, by your faith in the cause of their emancipation55! You have such a good soul! I simply love you as I didn’t love my own mother!”
Embracing his neck, she burst into happy sobs56, and pressed his head to her lips.
“Maybe,” he muttered, agitated57 and embarrassed by the newness of his feeling, “maybe I’m speaking nonsense; but, upon my honest word, you are a beautiful person, Nilovna — yes!”
“My darling, I love you, too; and I love you all with my whole soul, every drop of my blood!” she said, choking with a wave of hot joy.
The two voices blended into one throbbing58 speech, subdued59 and pulsating60 with the great feeling that was seizing the people.
“Such a large, soft power is in you; it draws the heart toward you imperceptibly. How brightly you describe people! How well you see them!”
“I see your life; I understand it, my dear!”
“One loves you. And it’s such a marvelous thing to love a person — it’s so good, you know!”
“It is you, you who raise the people from the dead to life again; you!” the mother whispered hotly, stroking his head. “My dear, I think I see there’s much work for you, much patience needed. Your power must not be wasted. It’s so necessary for life. Listen to what else happened: there was a woman there, the wife of that man ——”
Nikolay sat near her, his happy face bent61 aside in embarrassment, and stroked his hair. But soon he turned around again, and looking at the mother, listened greedily to her simple and clear story.
“A miracle! Every possibility of your getting into prison and suddenly — Yes, it’s evident that the peasants, too, are beginning to stir. After all, it’s natural. We ought to get special people for the villages. People! We haven’t enough — nowhere. Life demands hundreds of hands!”
“Now, if Pasha could be free — and Andriusha,” said the mother softly. Nikolay looked at her and drooped62 his head.
“You see, Nilovna, it’ll be hard for you to hear; but I’ll say it, anyway — I know Pavel well; he won’t leave prison. He wants to be tried; he wants to rise in all his height. He won’t give up a trial, and he needn’t either. He will escape from Siberia.”
The mother sighed and answered softly:
“Well, he knows what’s best for the cause.”
Nikolay quickly jumped to his feet, suddenly seized with joy again.
“Thank you, Nilovna! I’ve just lived through a magnificent moment — maybe the best moment of my life. Thank you! Now, come, let’s give each other a good, strong kiss!”
They embraced, looking into each other’s eyes. And they gave each other firm, comradely kisses.
“That’s good!” he said softly.
The mother unclasped her hands from about his neck and laughed quietly and happily.
“Um!” said Nikolay the next minute. “If your peasant there would hurry up and come here! You see, we must be sure to write a leaflet about Rybin for the village. It won’t hurt him once he’s come out so boldly, and it will help the cause. I’ll surely do it to-day. Liudmila will print it quickly. But then arises the question — how will it get to the village?”
“I’ll take it!”
“No, thank you!” Nikolay exclaimed quietly. “I’m wondering whether Vyesovshchikov won’t do for it. Shall I speak to him?”
“Yes; suppose you try and instruct him.”
“What’ll I do then?”
“Don’t worry!”
Nikolay sat down to write, while the mother put the table in order, from time to time casting a look at him. She saw how his pen trembled in his hand. It traveled along the paper in straight lines. Sometimes the skin on his neck quivered; he threw back his head and shut his eyes. All this moved her.
“Execute them!” she muttered under her breath. “Don’t pity the villains63!”
“There! It’s ready!” he said, rising. “Hide the paper somewhere on your body. But know that when the gendarmes64 come they’ll search you, too!”
“The dogs take them!” she answered calmly.
In the evening Dr. Ivan Danilovich came.
“What’s gotten into the authorities all of a sudden?” he said, running about the room. “There were seven searches last night. Where’s the patient?”
“He left yesterday. To-day, you see, Saturday, he reads to working people. He couldn’t bring it over himself to omit the reading.”
“That’s stupid — to sit at readings with a fractured skull65!”
“I tried to prove it to him, but unsuccessfully.”
“He wanted to do a bit of boasting before the comrades,” observed the mother. “Look! I’ve already shed my blood!”
The physician looked at her, made a fierce face, and said with set teeth:
“Ugh! ugh! you bloodthirsty person!”
“Well, Ivan, you’ve nothing to do here, and we’re expecting guests. Go away! Nilovna, give him the paper.”
“Another paper?”
“There, take it and give it to the printer.”
“I’ve taken it; I’ll deliver it. Is that all?”
“That’s all. There’s a spy at the gate.”
“I noticed. At my door, too. Good-by! Good-by, you fierce woman! And do you know, friends, a squabble in a cemetery66 is a fine thing after all! The whole city’s talking about it. It stirs the people up and compels them to think. Your article on that subject was excellent, and it came in time. I always said that a good fight is better than a bad peace.”
“All right. Go away now!”
“You’re polite! Let’s shake hands, Nilovna. And that fellow — he certainly behaved stupidly. Do you know where he lives?”
Nikolay gave him the address.
“I must go to him to-morrow. He’s a fine fellow, eh?”
“Very!”
“We must keep him alive; he has good brains. It’s from just such fellows that the real proletarian intellectuals ought to grow up — men to take our places when we leave for the region where evidently there are no class antagonisms67. But, after all, who knows?”
“You’ve taken to chattering68, Ivan.”
“I feel happy, that’s why. Well, I’m going! So you’re expecting prison? I hope you get a good rest there!”
“Thank you, I’m not tired!”
The mother listened to their conversation. Their solicitude69 in regard to the workingmen was pleasant to her; and, as always, the calm activity of these people which did not forsake70 them even before the gates of the prison, astonished her.
After the physician left, Nikolay and the mother conversed71 quietly while awaiting their evening visitors. Then Nikolay told her at length of his comrades living in exile; of those who had already escaped and continued their work under assumed names. The bare walls of the room echoed the low sounds of his voice, as if listening in incredulous amazement72 to the stories of modest heroes who disinterestedly73 devoted74 all their powers to the great cause of liberty.
A shadow kindly enveloped75 the woman, warming her heart with love for the unseen people, who in her imagination united into one huge person, full of inexhaustible, manly76 force. This giant slowly but incessantly77 strides over the earth, cleansing78 it, laying bare before the eyes of the people the simple and clear truth of life — the great truth that raises humanity from the dead, welcomes all equally, and promises all alike freedom from greed, from wickedness, and falsehood, the three monsters which enslaved and intimidated79 the whole world. The image evoked80 in the mother’s soul a feeling similar to that with which she used to stand before an ikon. After she had offered her joyful28, grateful prayer, the day had then seemed lighter81 than the other days of her life. Now she forgot those days. But the feeling left by them had broadened, had become brighter and better, had grown more deeply into her soul. It was more keenly alive and burned more luminously82.
“But the gendarmes aren’t coming!” Nikolay exclaimed suddenly, interrupting his story.
The mother looked at him, and after a pause answered in vexation:
“Oh, well, let them go to the dogs!”
“Of course! But it’s time for you to go to bed, Nilovna. You must be desperately83 tired. You’re wonderfully strong, I must say. So much commotion84 and disturbance85, and you live through it all so lightly. Only your hair is turning gray very quickly. Now go and rest.”
They pressed each other’s hand and parted.
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收听单词发音
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1
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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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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commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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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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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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solicitously
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| adv.热心地，热切地 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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commissioners
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| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
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sergeants
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| 警官( sergeant的名词复数 )； （美国警察）警佐； （英国警察）巡佐； 陆军（或空军）中士 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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immunity
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| n.优惠；免除；豁免，豁免权 | |
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voluptuous
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| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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licensed
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| adj.得到许可的v.许可，颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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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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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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emancipation
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| n.（从束缚、支配下）解放 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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pulsating
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| adj.搏动的，脉冲的v.有节奏地舒张及收缩( pulsate的现在分词 )；跳动；脉动；受（激情）震动 | |
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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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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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villains
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| n.恶棍( villain的名词复数 )；罪犯；（小说、戏剧等中的）反面人物；淘气鬼 | |
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gendarmes
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| n.宪兵，警官( gendarme的名词复数 ) | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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antagonisms
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| 对抗，敌对( antagonism的名词复数 ) | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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disinterestedly
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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cleansing
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| n. 净化(垃圾) adj. 清洁用的 动词cleanse的现在分词 | |
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intimidated
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| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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luminously
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| 发光的； 明亮的； 清楚的； 辉赫 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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84
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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