IAM a serious person and my mind is of a philosophic1 bent2. My vocation3 is the study of finance. I am a student of financial law and I have chosen as the subject of my dissertation4—the Past and Future of the Dog Licence. I need hardly point out that young ladies, songs, moonlight, and all that sort of silliness are entirely5 out of my line.
Morning. Ten o’clock. My maman pours me out a cup of coffee. I drink it and go out on the little balcony to set to work on my dissertation. I take a clean sheet of paper, dip the pen into the ink, and write out the title: “The Past and Future of the Dog Licence.”
After thinking a little I write: “Historical Survey. We may deduce from some allusions6 in Herodotus and Xenophon that the origin of the tax on dogs goes back to . . . .”
But at that point I hear footsteps that strike me as highly suspicious. I look down from the balcony and see below a young lady with a long face and a long waist. Her name, I believe, is Nadenka or Varenka, it really does not matter which. She is looking for something, pretends not to have noticed me, and is humming to herself:
“Dost thou remember that song full of tenderness?”
I read through what I have written and want to continue, but the young lady pretends to have just caught sight of me, and says in a mournful voice:
“Good morning, Nikolay Andreitch. Only fancy what a misfortune I have had! I went for a walk yesterday and lost the little ball off my bracelet7!”
I read through once more the opening of my dissertation, I trim up the tail of the letter “g” and mean to go on, but the young lady persists.
“Nikolay Andreitch,” she says, “won’t you see me home? The Karelins have such a huge dog that I simply daren’t pass it alone.”
There is no getting out of it. I lay down my pen and go down to her. Nadenka (or Varenka) takes my arm and we set off in the direction of her villa8.
When the duty of walking arm-in-arm with a lady falls to my lot, for some reason or other I always feel like a peg9 with a heavy cloak hanging on it. Nadenka (or Varenka), between ourselves, of an ardent10 temperament11 (her grandfather was an Armenian), has a peculiar12 art of throwing her whole weight on one’s arm and clinging to one’s side like a leech13. And so we walk along.
As we pass the Karelins’, I see a huge dog, who reminds me of the dog licence. I think with despair of the work I have begun and sigh.
“What are you sighing for?” asks Nadenka (or Varenka), and heaves a sigh herself.
Here I must digress for a moment to explain that Nadenka or Varenka (now I come to think of it, I believe I have heard her called Mashenka) imagines, I can’t guess why, that I am in love with her, and therefore thinks it her duty as a humane14 person always to look at me with compassion15 and to soothe16 my wound with words.
“Listen,” said she, stopping. “I know why you are sighing. You are in love, yes; but I beg you for the sake of our friendship to believe that the girl you love has the deepest respect for you. She cannot return your love; but is it her fault that her heart has long been another’s?”
Mashenka’s nose begins to swell18 and turn red, her eyes fill with tears: she evidently expects some answer from me, but, fortunately, at this moment we arrive. Mashenka’s mamma, a good-natured woman but full of conventional ideas, is sitting on the terrace: glancing at her daughter’s agitated19 face, she looks intently at me and sighs, as though saying to herself: “Ah, these young people! they don’t even know how to keep their secrets to themselves!”
On the terrace with her are several young ladies of various colours and a retired20 officer who is staying in the villa next to ours. He was wounded during the last war in the left temple and the right hip17. This unfortunate man is, like myself, proposing to devote the summer to literary work. He is writing the “Memoirs of a Military Man.” Like me, he begins his honourable21 labours every morning, but before he has written more than “I was born in . . .” some Varenka or Mashenka is sure to appear under his balcony, and the wounded hero is borne off under guard.
All the party sitting on the terrace are engaged in preparing some miserable22 fruit for jam. I make my bows and am about to beat a retreat, but the young ladies of various colours seize my hat with a squeal23 and insist on my staying. I sit down. They give me a plate of fruit and a hairpin24. I begin taking the seeds out.
The young ladies of various colours talk about men: they say that So-and-So is nice-looking, that So-and-So is handsome but not nice, that somebody else is nice but ugly, and that a fourth would not have been bad-looking if his nose were not like a thimble, and so on.
“And you, Monsieur Nicolas,” says Varenka’s mamma, turning to me, “are not handsome, but you are attractive. . . . There is something about your face. . . . In men, though, it’s not beauty but intelligence that matters,” she adds, sighing.
The young ladies sigh, too, and drop their eyes . . . they agree that the great thing in men is not beauty but intelligence. I steal a glance sideways at a looking-glass to ascertain25 whether I really am attractive. I see a shaggy head, a bushy beard, moustaches, eyebrows26, hair on my cheeks, hair up to my eyes, a perfect thicket27 with a solid nose sticking up out of it like a watch-tower. Attractive! h’m!
“But it’s by the qualities of your soul, after all, that you will make your way, Nicolas,” sighs Nadenka’s mamma, as though affirming some secret and original idea of her own.
And Nadenka is sympathetically distressed28 on my account, but the conviction that a man passionately29 in love with her is sitting opposite is obviously a source of the greatest enjoyment30 to her.
When they have done with men, the young ladies begin talking about love. After a long conversation about love, one of the young ladies gets up and goes away. Those that remain begin to pick her to pieces. Everyone agrees that she is stupid, unbearable31, ugly, and that one of her shoulder-blades sticks out in a shocking way.
But at last, thank goodness! I see our maid. My maman has sent her to call me in to dinner. Now I can make my escape from this uncongenial company and go back to my work. I get up and make my bows.
Varenka’s maman, Varenka herself, and the variegated32 young ladies surround me, and declare that I cannot possibly go, because I promised yesterday to dine with them and go to the woods to look for mushrooms. I bow and sit down again. My soul is boiling with rage, and I feel that in another moment I may not be able to answer for myself, that there may be an explosion, but gentlemanly feeling and the fear of committing a breach33 of good manners compels me to obey the ladies. And I obey them.
We sit down to dinner. The wounded officer, whose wound in the temple has affected34 the muscles of the left cheek, eats as though he had a bit in his mouth. I roll up little balls of bread, think about the dog licence, and, knowing the ungovernable violence of my temper, try to avoid speaking. Nadenka looks at me sympathetically.
After dinner, while I am standing36 alone on the terrace, smoking, Nadenka’s mamma comes up to me, presses my hand, and says breathlessly:
“Don’t despair, Nicolas! She has such a heart, . . . such a heart! . . .”
We go towards the wood to gather mushrooms. Varenka hangs on my arm and clings to my side. My sufferings are indescribable, but I bear them in patience.
We enter the wood.
“Listen, Monsieur Nicolas,” says Nadenka, sighing. “Why are you so melancholy37? And why are you so silent?”
Extraordinary girl she is, really! What can I talk to her about? What have we in common?
“Oh, do say something!” she begs me.
I begin trying to think of something popular, something within the range of her understanding. After a moment’s thought I say:
“The cutting down of forests has been greatly detrimental38 to the prosperity of Russia. . . .”
“Nicolas,” sighs Nadenka, and her nose begins to turn red, “Nicolas, I see you are trying to avoid being open with me. . . . You seem to wish to punish me by your silence. Your feeling is not returned, and you wish to suffer in silence, in solitude39 . . . it is too awful, Nicolas!” she cries impulsively40 seizing my hand, and I see her nose beginning to swell. “What would you say if the girl you love were to offer you her eternal friendship?”
I mutter something incoherent, for I really can’t think what to say to her.
In the first place, I’m not in love with any girl at all; in the second, what could I possibly want her eternal friendship for? and, thirdly, I have a violent temper.
“He will not speak; . . . it is clear that he will have me make the sacrifice! I cannot love him, if my heart is still another’s . . . but . . . I will think of it. . . . Very good, I will think of it . . . I will prove the strength of my soul, and perhaps, at the cost of my own happiness, I will save this man from suffering!” . . .
I can make nothing out of all this. It seems some special sort of puzzle.
We go farther into the wood and begin picking mushrooms. We are perfectly42 silent the whole time. Nadenka’s face shows signs of inward struggle. I hear the bark of dogs; it reminds me of my dissertation, and I sigh heavily. Between the trees I catch sight of the wounded officer limping painfully along. The poor fellow’s right leg is lame43 from his wound, and on his left arm he has one of the variegated young ladies. His face expresses resignation to destiny.
We go back to the house to drink tea, after which we play croquet and listen to one of the variegated young ladies singing a song: “No, no, thou lovest not, no, no.” At the word “no” she twists her mouth till it almost touches one ear.
The evening comes on. A detestable moon creeps up behind the bushes. There is perfect stillness in the air, and an unpleasant smell of freshly cut hay. I take up my hat and try to get away.
“I have something I must say to you!” Mashenka whispers to me significantly, “don’t go away!”
I have a foreboding of evil, but politeness obliges me to remain. Mashenka takes my arm and leads me away to a garden walk. By this time her whole figure expresses conflict. She is pale and gasping45 for breath, and she seems absolutely set on pulling my right arm out of the socket46. What can be the matter with her?
“Listen!” she mutters. “No, I cannot! No! . . .” She tries to say something, but hesitates. Now I see from her face that she has come to some decision. With gleaming eyes and swollen47 nose she snatches my hand, and says hurriedly, “Nicolas, I am yours! Love you I cannot, but I promise to be true to you!”
Then she squeezes herself to my breast, and at once springs away.
“Someone is coming,” she whispers. “Farewell! . . . To-morrow at eleven o’clock I will be in the arbour. . . . Farewell!”
And she vanishes. Completely at a loss for an explanation of her conduct and suffering from a painful palpitation of the heart, I make my way home. There the “Past and Future of the Dog Licence” is awaiting me, but I am quite unable to work. I am furious. . . . I may say, my anger is terrible. Damn it all! I allow no one to treat me like a boy, I am a man of violent temper, and it is not safe to trifle with me!
When the maid comes in to call me to supper, I shout to her: “Go out of the room!” Such hastiness augurs48 nothing good.
Next morning. Typical holiday weather. Temperature below freezing, a cutting wind, rain, mud, and a smell of naphthaline, because my maman has taken all her wraps out of her trunks. A devilish morning! It is the 7th of August, 1887, the date of the solar eclipse. I may here remark that at the time of an eclipse every one of us may, without special astronomical49 knowledge, be of the greatest service. Thus, for example, anyone of us can (1) take the measurement of the diameters of the sun and the moon; (2) sketch50 the corona51 of the sun; (3) take the temperature; (4) take observations of plants and animals during the eclipse; (5) note down his own impressions, and so on.
It is a matter of such exceptional importance that I lay aside the “Past and Future of the Dog Licence” and make up my mind to observe the eclipse.
We all get up very early, and I divide the work as follows: I am to measure the diameter of the sun and moon; the wounded officer is to sketch the corona; and the other observations are undertaken by Mashenka and the variegated young ladies.
We all meet together and wait.
“What is the cause of the eclipse?” asks Mashenka.
I reply: “A solar eclipse occurs when the moon, moving in the plane of the ecliptic, crosses the line joining the centres of the sun and the earth.”
“And what does the ecliptic mean?”
I explain. Mashenka listens attentively52.
“Can one see through the smoked glass the line joining the centres of the sun and the earth?” she enquires53.
“If it is only an imaginary line, how can the moon cross it?” Varenka says, wondering.
I make no reply. I feel my spleen rising at this naïve question.
“It’s all nonsense,” says Mashenka’s maman. “Impossible to tell what’s going to happen. You’ve never been in the sky, so what can you know of what is to happen with the sun and moon? It’s all fancy.”
At that moment a black patch begins to move over the sun. General confusion follows. The sheep and horses and cows run bellowing55 about the fields with their tails in the air. The dogs howl. The bugs56, thinking night has come on, creep out of the cracks in the walls and bite the people who are still in bed.
The deacon, who was engaged in bringing some cucumbers from the market garden, jumped out of his cart and hid under the bridge; while his horse walked off into somebody else’s yard, where the pigs ate up all the cucumbers. The excise57 officer, who had not slept at home that night, but at a lady friend’s, dashed out with nothing on but his nightshirt, and running into the crowd shouted frantically58: “Save yourself, if you can!”
Numbers of the lady visitors, even young and pretty ones, run out of their villas59 without even putting their slippers60 on. Scenes occur which I hesitate to describe.
“Mesdames, watch!” I cry. “Time is precious!”
And I hasten to measure the diameters. I remember the corona, and look towards the wounded officer. He stands doing nothing.
“What’s the matter?” I shout. “How about the corona?”
He shrugs62 his shoulders and looks helplessly towards his arms. The poor fellow has variegated young ladies on both sides of him, clinging to him in terror and preventing him from working. I seize a pencil and note down the time to a second. That is of great importance. I note down the geographical63 position of the point of observation. That, too, is of importance. I am just about to measure the diameter when Mashenka seizes my hand, and says:
“Do not forget to-day, eleven o’clock.”
I withdraw my hand, feeling every second precious, try to continue my observations, but Varenka clutches my arm and clings to me. Pencil, pieces of glass, drawings—all are scattered64 on the grass. Hang it! It’s high time the girl realized that I am a man of violent temper, and when I am roused my fury knows no bounds, I cannot answer for myself.
I try to continue, but the eclipse is over.
“Look at me!” she whispers tenderly.
Oh, that is the last straw! Trying a man’s patience like that can but have a fatal ending. I am not to blame if something terrible happens. I allow no one to make a laughing stock of me, and, God knows, when I am furious, I advise nobody to come near me, damn it all! There’s nothing I might not do! One of the young ladies, probably noticing from my face what a rage I am in, and anxious to propitiate65 me, says:
“I did exactly what you told me, Nikolay Andreitch; I watched the animals. I saw the grey dog chasing the cat just before the eclipse, and wagging his tail for a long while afterwards.”
So nothing came of the eclipse after all.
I go home. Thanks to the rain, I work indoors instead of on the balcony. The wounded officer has risked it, and has again got as far as “I was born in . . .” when I see one of the variegated young ladies pounce66 down on him and bear him off to her villa.
I cannot work, for I am still in a fury and suffering from palpitation of the heart. I do not go to the arbour. It is impolite not to, but, after all, I can’t be expected to go in the rain.
At twelve o’clock I receive a letter from Mashenka, a letter full of reproaches and entreaties67 to go to the arbour, addressing me as “thou.” At one o’clock I get a second letter, and at two, a third . . . . I must go. . . . But before going I must consider what I am to say to her. I will behave like a gentleman.
To begin with, I will tell her that she is mistaken in supposing that I am in love with her. That’s a thing one does not say to a lady as a rule, though. To tell a lady that one’s not in love with her, is almost as rude as to tell an author he can’t write.
The best thing will be to explain my views of marriage.
I put on my winter overcoat, take an umbrella, and walk to the arbour.
Knowing the hastiness of my temper, I am afraid I may be led into speaking too strongly; I will try to restrain myself.
I find Nadenka still waiting for me. She is pale and in tears. On seeing me she utters a cry of joy, flings herself on my neck, and says:
“At last! You are trying my patience. . . . Listen, I have not slept all night. . . . I have been thinking and thinking. . . . I believe that when I come to know you better I shall learn to love you. . . .”
I sit down, and begin to unfold my views of marriage. To begin with, to clear the ground of digressions and to be as brief as possible, I open with a short historical survey. I speak of marriage in ancient Egypt and India, then pass to more recent times, a few ideas from Schopenhauer. Mashenka listens attentively, but all of a sudden, through some strange incoherence of ideas, thinks fit to interrupt me:
“Nicolas, kiss me!” she says.
I am embarrassed and don’t know what to say to her. She repeats her request. There seems no avoiding it. I get up and bend over her long face, feeling as I do so just as I did in my childhood when I was lifted up to kiss my grandmother in her coffin68. Not content with the kiss, Mashenka leaps up and impulsively embraces me. At that instant, Mashenka’s maman appears in the doorway69 of the arbour. . . . She makes a face as though in alarm, and saying “sh-sh” to someone with her, vanishes like Mephistopheles through the trapdoor.
Confused and enraged70, I return to our villa. At home I find Varenka’s maman embracing my maman with tears in her eyes. And my maman weeps and says:
“I always hoped for it!”
And then, if you please, Nadenka’s maman comes up to me, embraces me, and says:
“May God bless you! . . . Mind you love her well. . . . Remember the sacrifice she is making for your sake!”
And here I am at my wedding. At the moment I write these last words, my best man is at my side, urging me to make haste. These people have no idea of my character! I have a violent temper, I cannot always answer for myself! Hang it all! God knows what will come of it! To lead a violent, desperate man to the altar is as unwise as to thrust one’s hand into the cage of a ferocious71 tiger. We shall see, we shall see!
And so, I am married. Everybody congratulates me and Varenka keeps clinging to me and saying:
“Now you are mine, mine; do you understand that? Tell me that you love me!” And her nose swells72 as she says it.
I learn from my best man that the wounded officer has very cleverly escaped the snares73 of Hymen. He showed the variegated young lady a medical certificate that owing to the wound in his temple he was at times mentally deranged74 and incapable75 of contracting a valid76 marriage. An inspiration! I might have got a certificate too. An uncle of mine drank himself to death, another uncle was extremely absent-minded (on one occasion he put a lady’s muff on his head in mistake for his hat), an aunt of mine played a great deal on the piano, and used to put out her tongue at gentlemen she did not like. And my ungovernable temper is a very suspicious symptom.
But why do these great ideas always come too late? Why?
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1
philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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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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vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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dissertation
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| n.（博士学位）论文，学术演讲，专题论文 | |
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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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allusions
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| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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leech
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| n.水蛭，吸血鬼，榨取他人利益的人；vt.以水蛭吸血；vi.依附于别人 | |
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humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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squeal
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| v.发出长而尖的声音；n.长而尖的声音 | |
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hairpin
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| n.簪,束发夹，夹发针 | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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variegated
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| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
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breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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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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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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detrimental
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| adj.损害的，造成伤害的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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augurs
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| n.（古罗马的）占兆官( augur的名词复数 )；占卜师，预言者v.预示，预兆，预言( augur的第三人称单数 )；成为预兆；占卜 | |
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49
astronomical
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| adj.天文学的，（数字）极大的 | |
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50
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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51
corona
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| n.日冕 | |
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52
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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53
enquires
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| 打听( enquire的第三人称单数 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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54
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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55
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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56
bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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57
excise
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| n.(国产)货物税；vt.切除，删去 | |
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58
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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59
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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60
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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61
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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62
shrugs
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| n.耸肩（以表示冷淡，怀疑等）( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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geographical
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| adj.地理的；地区(性)的 | |
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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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propitiate
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| v.慰解，劝解 | |
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66
pounce
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| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
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67
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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68
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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71
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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72
swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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73
snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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74
deranged
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| adj.疯狂的 | |
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75
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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valid
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| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
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