‘Who is there?’ sounded Shubin’s voice.
‘I,’ answered Bersenyev.
‘What do you want?’
‘Let me in, Pavel; don’t be sulky; aren’t you ashamed of yourself?’
‘I am not sulky; I’m asleep and dreaming about Zoya.’
‘Do stop that, please; you’re not a baby. Let me in. I want to talk to you.’
‘Haven’t you had talk enough with Elena?’
‘Come, come; let me in!’ Shubin responded by a pretended snore.
Bersenyev shrugged3 his shoulders and turned homewards.
The night was warm and seemed strangely still, as though everything were listening and expectant; and Bersenyev, enfolded in the still darkness, stopped involuntarily; and he, too, listened expectant. On the tree-tops near there was a faint stir, like the rustle4 of a woman’s dress, awaking in him a feeling half-sweet, half-painful, a feeling almost of fright. He felt a tingling5 in his cheeks, his eyes were chill with momentary6 tears; he would have liked to move quite noiselessly, to steal along in secret. A cross gust7 of wind blew suddenly on him; he almost shuddered8, and his heart stood still; a drowsy9 beetle10 fell off a twig11 and dropped with a thud on the path; Bersenyev uttered a subdued12 ‘Ah!’ and again stopped. But he began to think of Elena, and all these passing sensations vanished at once; there remained only the reviving sense of the night freshness, of the walk by night; his whole soul was absorbed by the image of the young girl. Bersenyev walked with bent13 head, recalling her words, her questions. He fancied he heard the tramp of quick steps behind. He listened: some one was running, some one was overtaking him; he heard panting, and suddenly from a black circle of shadow cast by a huge tree Shubin sprang out before him, quite pale in the light of the moon, with no cap on his disordered curls.
‘I am glad you came along this path,’ he said with an effort. ‘I should not have slept all night, if I had not overtaken you. Give me your hand. Are you going home?’
‘Yes.’
‘I will see you home then.’
‘But why have you come without a cap on?’
‘That doesn’t matter. I took off my neckerchief too. It is quite warm.’
The friends walked a few paces.
‘I was very stupid to-day, wasn’t I?’ Shubin asked suddenly.
‘To speak frankly14, you were. I couldn’t make you out. I have never seen you like that before. And what were you angry about really? Such trifles!’
‘H’m,’ muttered Shubin. ‘That’s how you put it; but they were not trifles to me. You see,’ he went on, ‘I ought to point out to you that I— that — you may think what you please of me — I— well there! I’m in love with Elena.’
‘You in love with Elena!’ repeated Bersenyev, standing15 still.
‘Yes,’ pursued Shubin with affected16 carelessness. ‘Does that astonish you? I will tell you something else. Till this evening I still had hopes that she might come to love me in time. But to-day I have seen for certain that there is no hope for me. She is in love with some one else.’
‘Some one else? Whom?’
‘Whom? You!’ cried Shubin, slapping Bersenyev on the shoulder.
‘Me!’
‘You,’ repeated Shubin.
Bersenyev stepped back a pace, and stood motionless. Shubin looked intently at him.
‘And does that astonish you? You are a modest youth. But she loves you. You can make your mind easy on that score.’
‘What nonsense you talk!’ Bersenyev protested at last with an air of vexation.
‘No, it’s not nonsense. But why are we standing still? Let us go on. It’s easier to talk as we walk. I have known her a long while, and I know her well. I cannot be mistaken. You are a man after her own heart. There was a time when she found me agreeable; but, in the first place, I am too frivolous17 a young man for her, while you are a serious person, you are a morally and physically18 well-regulated person, you — hush19, I have not finished, you are a conscientiously20 disposed enthusiast21, a genuine type of those devotees of science, of whom — no not of whom — whereof the middle class of Russian gentry22 are so justly proud! And, secondly23, Elena caught me the other day kissing Zoya’s arms!’
‘Zoya’s?’
‘Yes, Zoya’s. What would you have? She has such fine shoulders.’
‘Shoulders?’
‘Well there, shoulders and arms, isn’t it all the same? Elena caught me in this unconstrained proceeding24 after dinner, and before dinner I had been abusing Zoya in her hearing. Elena unfortunately doesn’t understand how natural such contradictions are. Then you came on the scene, you have faith in — what the deuce is it you have faith in? . . . You blush and look confused, you discuss Schiller and Schelling (she’s always on the look-out for remarkable25 men), and so you have won the day, and I, poor wretch26, try to joke — and all the while ——’
Shubin suddenly burst into tears, turned away, and dropping upon the ground clutched at his hair.
Bersenyev went up to him.
‘Pavel,’ he began, ‘what childishness this is! Really! what’s the matter with you to-day? God knows what nonsense you have got into your head, and you are crying. Upon my word, I believe you must be putting it on.’
Shubin lifted up his head. The tears shone bright on his cheeks in the moonlight, but there was a smile on his face.
‘Andrei Petrovitch,’ he said, ‘you may think what you please about me. I am even ready to agree with you that I’m hysterical27 now, but, by God, I’m in love with Elena, and Elena loves you. I promised, though, to see you home, and I will keep my promise.’
He got up.
‘What a night! silvery, dark, youthful! How sweet it must be to-night for men who are loved! How sweet for them not to sleep! Will you sleep, Andrei Petrovitch?’
Bersenyev made no answer, and quickened his pace.
‘Where are you hurrying to?’ Shubin went on. ‘Trust my words, a night like this will never come again in your life, and at home, Schelling will keep. It’s true he did you good service to-day; but you need not hurry for all that. Sing, if you can sing, sing louder than ever; if you can’t sing, take off your hat, throw up your head, and smile to the stars. They are all looking at you, at you alone; the stars never do anything but look down upon lovers — that’s why they are so charming. You are in love, I suppose, Andrei Petrovitch? . . . You don’t answer me . . . why don’t you answer?’ Shubin began again: ‘Oh, if you feel happy, be quiet, be quiet! I chatter28 because I am a poor devil, unloved, I am a jester, an artist, a buffoon29; but what unutterable ecstasy30 would I quaff31 in the night wind under the stars, if I knew that I were loved! . . . Bersenyev, are you happy?’
Bersenyev was silent as before, and walked quickly along the smooth path. In front, between the trees, glimmered32 the lights of the little village in which he was staying; it consisted of about a dozen small villas33 for summer visitors. At the very beginning of the village, to the right of the road, a little shop stood under two spreading birch-trees; its windows were all closed already, but a wide patch of light fell fan-shaped from the open door upon the trodden grass, and was cast upwards34 on the trees, showing up sharply the whitish undersides of the thick growing leaves. A girl, who looked like a maid-servant, was standing in the shop with her back against the doorpost, bargaining with the shopkeeper; from beneath the red kerchief which she had wrapped round her head, and held with bare hand under her chin, could just be seen her round cheek and slender throat. The young men stepped into the patch of light; Shubin looked into the shop, stopped short, and cried ‘Annushka!’ The girl turned round quickly. They saw a nice-looking, rather broad but fresh face, with merry brown eyes and black eyebrows35. ‘Annushka!’ repeated Shubin. The girl saw him, looked scared and shamefaced, and without finishing her purchases, she hurried down the steps, slipped quickly past, and, hardly looking round, went along the road to the left. The shopkeeper, a puffy man, unmoved by anything in the world, like all country shopkeepers gasped36 and gaped37 after her, while Shubin turned to Bersenyev with the words: ‘That’s . . . you see . . . there’s a family here I know . . . so at their house . . . you mustn’t imagine’ . . . and, without finishing his speech, he ran after the retreating girl.
‘You’d better at least wipe your tears away,’ Bersenyev shouted after him, and he could not refrain from laughing. But when he got home, his face had not a mirthful expression; he laughed no longer. He had not for a single instant believed what Shubin had told him, but the words he had uttered had sunk deep into his soul.
‘Pavel was making a fool of me,’ he thought; ‘ . . . but she will love one day . . . whom will she love?’
In Bersenyev’s room there was a piano, small, and by no means new, but of a soft and sweet tone, though not perfectly38 in tune39. Bersenyev sat down to it, and began to strike some chords. Like all Russians of good birth, he had studied music in his childhood, and like almost all Russian gentlemen, he played very badly; but he loved music passionately40. Strictly41 speaking, he did not love the art, the forms in which music is expressed (symphonies and sonatas42, even operas wearied him), but he loved the poetry of music: he loved those vague and sweet, shapeless, and all-embracing emotions which are stirred in the soul by the combinations and successions of sounds. For more than an hour, he did not move from the piano, repeating many times the same chords, awkwardly picking out new ones, pausing and melting over the minor43 sevenths. His heart ached, and his eyes more than once filled with tears. He was not ashamed of them; he let them flow in the darkness. ‘Pavel was right,’ he thought, ‘I feel it; this evening will not come again.’ At last he got up, lighted a candle, put on his dressing-gown, took down from the bookshelf the second volume of Raumer’s History of the Hohenstaufen, and sighing twice, he set to work diligently44 to read it.
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1
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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3
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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8
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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10
beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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12
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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13
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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15
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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16
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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17
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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18
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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19
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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enthusiast
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| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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24
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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25
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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29
buffoon
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| n.演出时的丑角 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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31
quaff
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| v.一饮而尽；痛饮 | |
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32
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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34
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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35
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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36
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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37
gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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38
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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39
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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40
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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41
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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42
sonatas
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| n.奏鸣曲( sonata的名词复数 ) | |
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43
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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44
diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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