The wind was frolicking among the yellow leaves of the old birch trees, and a shower of thick drops fell upon us from the leaves. One of our party slipped on the clayey soil, and clutched at a big grey cross to save himself from falling.
“Yegor Gryaznorukov, titular1 councillor and cavalier..” he read. “I knew that gentleman. He was fond of his wife, he wore the Stanislav ribbon, and read nothing. . . . His digestion2 worked well. . . . life was all right, wasn’t it? One would have thought he had no reason to die, but alas3! fate had its eye on him. . . . The poor fellow fell a victim to his habits of observation. On one occasion, when he was listening at a keyhole, he got such a bang on the head from the door that he sustained concussion4 of the brain (he had a brain), and died. And here, under this tombstone, lies a man who from his cradle detested5 verses and epigrams. . . . As though to mock him his whole tombstone is adorned6 with verses. . . . There is someone coming!”
A man in a shabby overcoat, with a shaven, bluish-crimson countenance7, overtook us. He had a bottle under his arm and a parcel of sausage was sticking out of his pocket.
“Where is the grave of Mushkin, the actor?” he asked us in a husky voice.
We conducted him towards the grave of Mushkin, the actor, who had died two years before.
“You are a government clerk, I suppose?” we asked him.
“No, an actor. Nowadays it is difficult to distinguish actors from clerks of the Consistory. No doubt you have noticed that. . . . That’s typical, but it’s not very flattering for the government clerk.”
It was with difficulty that we found the actor’s grave. It had sunken, was overgrown with weeds, and had lost all appearance of a grave. A cheap, little cross that had begun to rot, and was covered with green moss8 blackened by the frost, had an air of aged9 dejection and looked, as it were, ailing10.
“ . . . forgotten friend Mushkin . . . ” we read.
Time had erased11 the never, and corrected the falsehood of man.
“A subscription12 for a monument to him was got up among actors and journalists, but they drank up the money, the dear fellows . . . ” sighed the actor, bowing down to the ground and touching13 the wet earth with his knees and his cap.
“How do you mean, drank it?”
That’s very simple. They collected the money, published a paragraph about it in the newspaper, and spent it on drink. . . . I don’t say it to blame them. . . . I hope it did them good, dear things! Good health to them, and eternal memory to him.”
“Drinking means bad health, and eternal memory nothing but sadness. God give us remembrance for a time, but eternal memory — what next!”
“You are right there. Mushkin was a well-known man, you see; there were a dozen wreaths on the coffin14, and he is already forgotten. Those to whom he was dear have forgotten him, but those to whom he did harm remember him. I, for instance, shall never, never forget him, for I got nothing but harm from him. I have no love for the deceased.”
“What harm did he do you?”
“Great harm,” sighed the actor, and an expression of bitter resentment15 overspread his face. “To me he was a villain16 and a scoundrel — the Kingdom of Heaven be his! It was through looking at him and listening to him that I became an actor. By his art he lured17 me from the parental18 home, he enticed19 me with the excitements of an actor’s life, promised me all sorts of things — and brought tears and sorrow. . . . An actor’s lot is a bitter one! I have lost youth, sobriety, and the divine semblance20. . . . I haven’t a half-penny to bless myself with, my shoes are down at heel, my breeches are frayed21 and patched, and my face looks as if it had been gnawed22 by dogs. . . . My head’s full of freethinking and nonsense. . . . He robbed me of my faith — my evil genius! It would have been something if I had had talent, but as it is, I am ruined for nothing. . . . It’s cold, honoured friends. . . . Won’t you have some? There is enough for all . . . . B-r-r-r. . . . Let us drink to the rest of his soul! Though I don’t like him and though he’s dead, he was the only one I had in the world, the only one. It’s the last time I shall visit him. . . . The doctors say I shall soon die of drink, so here I have come to say good-bye. One must forgive one’s enemies.”
We left the actor to converse23 with the dead Mushkin and went on. It began drizzling24 a fine cold rain.
At the turning into the principal avenue strewn with gravel25, we met a funeral procession. Four bearers, wearing white calico sashes and muddy high boots with leaves sticking on them, carried the brown coffin. It was getting dark and they hastened, stumbling and shaking their burden. . . .
“We’ve only been walking here for a couple of hours and that is the third brought in already. . . . Shall we go home, friends?”
点击收听单词发音
1 titular | |
adj.名义上的,有名无实的;n.只有名义(或头衔)的人 | |
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2 digestion | |
n.消化,吸收 | |
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3 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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4 concussion | |
n.脑震荡;震动 | |
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5 detested | |
v.憎恶,嫌恶,痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6 adorned | |
[计]被修饰的 | |
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7 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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8 moss | |
n.苔,藓,地衣 | |
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9 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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10 ailing | |
v.生病 | |
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11 erased | |
v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 );抹去;清除 | |
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12 subscription | |
n.预订,预订费,亲笔签名,调配法,下标(处方) | |
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13 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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14 coffin | |
n.棺材,灵柩 | |
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15 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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16 villain | |
n.反派演员,反面人物;恶棍;问题的起因 | |
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17 lured | |
吸引,引诱(lure的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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18 parental | |
adj.父母的;父的;母的 | |
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19 enticed | |
诱惑,怂恿( entice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20 semblance | |
n.外貌,外表 | |
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21 frayed | |
adj.磨损的v.(使布、绳等)磨损,磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22 gnawed | |
咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 ); (长时间) 折磨某人; (使)苦恼; (长时间)危害某事物 | |
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23 converse | |
vi.谈话,谈天,闲聊;adv.相反的,相反 | |
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24 drizzling | |
下蒙蒙细雨,下毛毛雨( drizzle的现在分词 ) | |
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25 gravel | |
n.砂跞;砂砾层;结石 | |
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