IN AN UNFINISHED HOUSE in Varvarka, the lower part of which was a pot-house, there were sounds of drunken brawling1 and singing. Some ten factory hands were sitting on benches at tables in a little, dirty room. Tipsy, sweating, blear-eyed, with wide-gaping mouths, bloated with drink, they were singing some sort of a song. They were singing discordantly2, with toil3, with labour, not because they wanted to sing, but simply to betoken4 that they were drunk, and were enjoying themselves. One of them, a tall, flaxen-headed fellow, in a clean, blue long coat was standing5 over the rest. His face, with its straight, fine nose, would have been handsome, but for the thick, compressed, continually twitching6 lips and the lustreless7, staring, and frowning eyes. He was standing over the singers, and, obviously with some notion in his head, was making solemn and angular passes over their heads with his bare, white arm, while he tried to spread his dirty fingers out unnaturally8 wide apart. The sleeve of his coat was incessantly9 slipping down, and the young fellow kept carefully tucking it up again with his left hand, as though there was something of special significance requiring that white, sinewy10, waving arm to be bare. In the middle of the song, shouts and blows were heard in the passage and the porch. The tall fellow waved his arms.
“Shut up!” he shouted peremptorily11. “A fight, lads!” and still tucking up his sleeves, he went out to the porch.
The factory hands followed him. They had brought the tavern12- keeper some skins that morning from the factory, had had drink given them for this service, and had been drinking under the leadership of the tall young man. The blacksmiths working in a smithy hard by heard the sounds of revelry in the pothouse, and supposing the house had been forcibly broken into, wanted to break in too. A conflict was going on in the porch.
The tavern-keeper was fighting with a blacksmith in the doorway13, and at the moment when the factory hands emerged, the smith had reeled away from the tavern-keeper, and fallen on his face on the pavement.
Another smith dashed in at the door, staggering with his chest against the tavern-keeper.
The young man with the sleeve tucked up, as he went, dealt a blow in the face of the smith who had dashed in at the door, and shouted wildly:
“Lads! they are beating our mates!”
Meanwhile, the smith got up from the ground, and with blood spurting14 from his bruised15 face, cried in a wailing16 voice:
“Help! They have killed me …! They have killed a man! Mates! …”
“Oy, mercy on us, killed entirely17, a man killed!” squealed18 a woman, coming out of the gates next door. A crowd of people gathered round the blood-stained smith.
“Haven't you ruined folks enough, stripping the shirts off their backs?” said a voice, addressing the tavern-keeper; “and so now you have murdered a man! Blackguard!”
The tall young man standing on the steps turned his bleared eyes from the tavern-keeper to the smiths, as though considering with which to fight.
“Cut-throat!” he cried suddenly at the tavern-keeper. “Lads, bind19 him!”
“Indeed, and you try and bind a man like me!” bawled20 the tavern-keeper, tearing himself away from the men who threw themselves on him, and taking off his cap, he flung it on the ground. As though this act had some mysterious and menacing significance, the factory hands, who had surrounded the tavern-keeper, stood still in uncertainty21.
“I know the law, mate, very well, I do. I'll go to the police. Are you thinking I won't find them? Robbery's not the order of the day for any one!” bawled the tavern-keeper, picking up his cap.
“And go we will, so there!” … “And go we will … so there!” the tavern-keeper and the tall fellow repeated after one another, and both together moved forward along the street. The blood-bespattered smith walked on a level with them. The factory-hands and a mob of outsiders followed them with talk and shouting.
At the corner of Maroseyka, opposite a great house with closed shutters22, and the signboard of a bootmaker, stood a group of some twenty bootmakers, thin, exhausted-looking men, with dejected faces, in loose smocks, and torn coats.
“He ought to pay folks properly!” a thin boot hand, with a scant23 beard and scowling24 brows, was saying. “He's sucked the life-blood out of us, and then he's quit of us. He's been promising25 and promising us all the week. And now he's driven us to the last point, and he's made off.” Seeing the mob and the blood-bespattered smith, the man paused, and the bootmakers with inquisitive26 eagerness joined the moving crowd.
“Where are the folks going?”
“Going to the police, to be sure.”
“Is it true we are beaten?”
“Why, what did you think? Look what folks are saying!”
Questions and answers were audible. The tavern-keeper, taking advantage of the increased numbers of the rabble27, dropped behind the mob, and went back to his tavern.
The tall young fellow, not remarking the disappearance28 of his foe29, the tavern-keeper, still moved his bare arm and talked incessantly, attracting the attention of all. The mob pressed about his figure principally, expecting to get from him some solution of the questions that were absorbing all of them.
“Let them show the order, let him show the law, that's what the government's for! Isn't it the truth I am saying, good Christian30 folk?” said the tall young man, faintly smiling.
“Does he suppose there's no government? Could we do without government? Wouldn't there be plenty to rob us, eh?”
“Why talk nonsense!” was murmured in the crowd. “Why, will they leave Moscow like this! They told you a lot of stuff in joke, and you believed them. Haven't we troops enough? No fear, they won't let him enter! That's what the government's for. Ay, listen what folks are prating31 of!” they said, pointing to the tall fellow.
By the wall of the Kitay-Gorod there was another small group of people gathered about a man in a frieze32 coat, who held a paper in his hand.
“A decree, a decree being read! A decree is being read,” was heard in the crowd, and the mob surged round the reader.
The man in the frieze coat was reading the placard of the 31st of August. When the mob crowded round, he seemed disconcerted, but at the demand of the tall fellow who pressed close up to him, he began with a faint quiver in his voice reading the notice again from the beginning.
“Early to-morrow I am going to his highness the prince,” he read (“his highness!” the tall young man repeated, with a triumphant33 smile and knitted brows), “to consult with him, to act and to aid the troops to exterminate34 the wretches35; we, too, will destroy them root and branch …” the reader went on and paused (“D'ye see?” bawled the tall fellow with an air of victory. “He'll unravel36 the whole evil for you …”) “and send our visitors packing to the devil; I shall come back to dinner, and we will set to work, we will be doing till we have done, and done away with the villains37.”
These last words were uttered by the reader in the midst of complete silence. The tall fellow's head sank dejectedly. It was obvious that nobody had understood these last words. The words “I shall come back to dinner” in especial seemed to offend both reader and audience. The faculties38 of the crowd were strained to the highest pitch, and this was too easy and unnecessarily simple; it was just what any one of them might have said, and what for that reason could not be said in a decree coming from a higher authority.
All stood in depressed39 silence. The tall fellow's lips moved, and he staggered.
“Ask him! … Isn't that himself? … How'd it be to ask him! Or else … He'll explain …” was suddenly heard in the back rows of the crowd, and the general attention turned to the chaise of the head of the police, which drove into the square, escorted by two mounted dragoons.
The head of the police, who had driven out that morning by Count Rastoptchin's command to set fire to the barques in the river, and had received for that commission a large sum of money, at that moment in his pocket, ordered his coachman to stop on seeing a crowd bearing down upon him.
“What are those people?” he shouted to the people, who timidly approached the chaise in detached groups. “What is this crowd, I ask you?” repeated the head of police, receiving no reply.
“Your honour,” said the man in the frieze coat, “it was their wish, your honour, not sparing their substance, in accord with his excellency the count's proclamation, to serve, and not to make a riot at all, as his excellency said …”
“The count has not gone, he is here, and will give orders about you,” said the head of police. “Go on!” he said to his coachman. The crowd stood still, pressing round those who had heard what was said by the official, and looking at the departing chaise.
The head of the police meantime looked about him in alarm, and said something to his coachman; the horses trotted40 faster.
“Cheated, mates! Lead us to himself!” bawled the voice of the tall fellow. “Don't let him go, lads! Let him answer for it! Keep him!” roared voices, and the crowd dashed full speed after the chaise.
The mob in noisy talk pursued the head of the police to Lubyanka.
“Why, the gentry41 and the tradespeople are all gone, and we are left to perish. Are we dogs, pray?” was heard more frequently in the crowd.
瓦尔瓦尔卡街一座未竣工的楼房里，传出醉汉的叫喊和歌声。它的下层开了一家酒店。在一间肮脏的小房间里，十来个工人正围坐在一张桌旁的长凳上，他们都醉醺醺的，头上冒汗，眼睛浑浊，使劲张大嘴巴打哈欠，还在唱着一支歌。他们各顾各地费颈而又卖力地唱着，显然不是因为他们想唱，而纯粹是为了证明他们喝醉了，在玩乐罢了，喝，喝下去。其中有一个高个儿的浅黄色头发的小伙子，身穿纯蓝色外衣，高踞于众人之上。他有一张长着秀气而笔直的鼻梁的脸，如果他的不停翻动的嘴唇不那么薄不闭得那么紧，眼睛不浑浊、阴沉、呆滞，那末，他那张脸定是很美的。他高踞于唱歌者之上，显然他是在想着什么，他把那只袖子卷到胳膊肘的白手，在那些人头上庄严地僵硬地挥动，并且不自然地使劲伸直肮脏的手指。他的外衣的袖口不停地滑下，他就费力地用左手再把它卷上去，仿佛这段白皙、青筋暴露、挥动着的手臂一定得裸露着，此中含有其深意。他唱着唱着，过道里和台阶上传来了殴斗的喊声和碰撞的声音。高个小伙子把手挥了一下。
“停下！”他发号施令地喊道，“打起来了，弟兄们！”他仍然不停地卷着袖子往台阶走去。
这些工人跟着他。他们今天早晨由高个小伙子承头，从工厂带了几张皮子给酒店老板，才换来酒喝的。附近几家铁匠铺的铁匠听到酒店闹哄哄，以为酒店被打劫，便也想拼命往里冲。台阶上发生了斗殴。
老板在门洞里与一个铁匠扭打在一起，在工人出来的时候，铁匠挣脱老板，仆倒在马路上。另一个铁匠冲向门口，用胸膛顶着老板。
卷起袖子的小伙子一上来就照这个往门里冲的铁匠脸上一拳，并且狂叫：
“弟兄们！我们的人挨打了！”
这时，刚才倒下的铁匠从地上爬起来，把被打伤的脸抓出血来，哭着喊叫：
“救命啊！打死人了！……有人被打死了！弟兄们！
……”
“哎呀，朝死里打了，打死人了！”隔壁大门里出来一位农妇尖声地说。一群人围住了血淋淋的铁匠。
“你抢人抢得不够，抢到别人剩下的身上穿的衬衫来了，”谁的声音，朝问酒店老板说，“怎么，你打死人了？强盗！”
站在台阶上的高个儿小伙子瞪着浑浊的眼睛看看老板，又看看这几个铁匠，好像在考虑现在该同谁打架。
“凶手！”他突然朝老板喊叫，“把他捆起来。弟兄们！”
“干吗，只捆我一个！”老板喊叫，推开朝他扑来的人，并摘下帽子扔到地上。这一举动似乎含有某种神秘的威吓作用，包围老板的工人迟疑地站着不动了。
“要说法规嘛，老兄，我很懂得的，清楚得很。我要到警察分局去。你以为我不会去吗？抢劫是谁都不许干的！”老板喊道，拾起了帽子。
“咱走哇，瞧你说的！咱走哇……瞧你说的，”酒店老板和高个小伙子彼此重复着说，随后两人就从街上朝前走了。工人和看热闹的吵吵嚷嚷地跟着他俩走。面部流血的铁匠走在他俩旁边。
马罗谢卡街拐角处，一块挂有靴匠招牌，护窗板关上的大房子的对面，站着二十来位面容沮丧的靴匠，他们瘦弱憔悴，穿着罩衫和破烂的长褂子。
“他应该给大伙发遣散费！”胡子稀疏、眉毛紧皱的瘦个子工匠说，“他吸干我们的血，就扔下不管，这算什么。他骗我们，骗了整整一个礼拜。把我们拖到这个地步，他自己倒跑了。”
说话的工匠看见一大群人和一个血淋淋的人，就默不作声，所有的靴匠都带着急不可耐的好奇心朝那群向前移动的人走出。
“这伙人是到哪儿去啊？”
“明摆着，去见当官的呗。”
“怎么说我们的人没占上风，是吗？”
“你以为会怎样！瞧瞧人们怎么说。”
听着这一问一答，老板趁着人越来越多的时机，落在他们后面，转身回自家酒店去了。
高个小伙子没发现自己的敌人——老板的消失，仍挥动露出一截的手臂，不停地说话，引来众人的注意。大家紧靠着他，指望得到对困扰他们的各种问题的解答。
“他会依照规章，会维护法律，当官的就是干这个的。我是不是该这样说，正教徒们？”高个小伙子说，脸上不无笑意。
“他以为官府没有了，是吧？难道没有官府可能吗？不然抢东西的人那就会更多了。”
“净讲空话！”人群中有人答腔。“怎么不，莫斯科都放弃了嘛！人家给你说着玩，你就以为真了。我们的军队是不少，就这样把敌人放进来！官府就是干这个的。还是听听老百姓怎么说吧。”大伙儿说，指着高个小伙子。
在中国城①的城墙附近，另有一小堆人围着一个穿厚呢大衣的人，他手里拿着一份文件。
①在克里姆林宫附近的一地名，不是美国一些城市华人聚居处那样的唐人街。
“告示，读告示了！读告示了！”人群中有人在说，于是，大伙儿朝读告示的人涌来。
穿厚呢大衣的人读起了八月三十一日的布告。当人群围拢来时，他显得有点窘，但高个小伙子挤到他身边求他，他声音有点发抖地从头开始读。
“我明天一早去见公爵阁下，”他读道，（“阁下！”高个小伙子。嘴角含笑，皱起眉毛庄严地重复说）……“与他商谈，采取行动，帮助军队消灭匪徒；我们即将把他们的气焰……”读布告的人读到这里停了一下（“瞧见了吗？”小伙子响亮地得胜似地说。“他会给你把全部情况摊开……）消灭他们，并把这些客人打发去见鬼吧；吃午饭时我要回来，然后着手做这件事，做好，做完，把匪徒解决掉。”
最后几句话是在一片沉默中读完的。高个小伙子忧郁地低下头。显然，谁也不明白最后几句话。特别是：“我明天午饭时回来，”这句话甚至使读的人和听的人都忧伤不已。大伙儿的理解力很强，可是这种话太简单，太浅显，它是他们中的每一个人要都能说的，因而算不上是出自上层当局的告示。
大家默默地伤心地站着。高个小伙子的嘴唇直动着，还晃动身体。
“应该问问他！……这是他自己吗？当然要问！……不会指点的……他该说清……”突然，在人群后几排听见说话声，大家的注意力便转向驶进广场的警察局长的轻便马车，这是由两名龙骑兵护送着的。
局长这天上午奉伯爵之命去烧毁货船，执行任务时捞到了一大笔钱，这笔钱正揣在他口袋里，看到朝他走来的人群，叫车夫停车。
“你们是些什么人？”他向三五一群怯生生靠拢来的人们喊道，“干什么的？我问你们呢？”局长未得到回答就重复地问。
“局座，他们，”穿厚呢大衣的那位小官说，“局座，他们是遵照伯爵大人的通告，不顾性命，愿意效劳的，绝不是暴动，正如伯爵大人的命令里所说……”
“伯爵没有离开，他在此地，关于你们的安排就会作出，“局长说，“走吧！”他对车夫说。人群在原地没动，围着听到官长说话的那些人，同时望着远去的马车。
这时，警察局长恐慌地回头看了一眼，对车夫说了句话，马便跑得更快了。
“欺骗人，弟兄们！追他去！”高个小伙子大声喊道，“别放过他，弟兄们！让地答复！抓住他！”众人喊了起来，跑着去追马车。
追赶局长的人群闹哄哄地朝卢比扬卡街跑去。
“甚么哟，老爷和商人都走光了，为了这个我们却要牺牲的。甚么哟，我们是他们的狗，还是怎么的！”人群里的怨言愈来愈多。
收听单词发音 |
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brawling
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| n.争吵，喧嚷 | |
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discordantly
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| adv.不一致地，不和谐地 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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betoken
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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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twitching
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lustreless
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| adj.无光泽的，无光彩的，平淡乏味的 | |
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unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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spurting
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的现在分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺； 溅射 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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squealed
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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prating
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| v.（古时用语）唠叨，啰唆( prate的现在分词 ) | |
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frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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exterminate
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| v.扑灭，消灭，根绝 | |
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35
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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unravel
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| v.弄清楚（秘密）；拆开，解开，松开 | |
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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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38
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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39
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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