SUNDAY, midday. A landowner, called Kamyshev, is sitting in his dining-room, deliberately1 eating his lunch at a luxuriously2 furnished table. Monsieur Champoun, a clean, neat, smoothly-shaven, old Frenchman, is sharing the meal with him. This Champoun had once been a tutor in Kamyshev’s household, had taught his children good manners, the correct pronunciation of French, and dancing: afterwards when Kamyshev’s children had grown up and become lieutenants3, Champoun had become something like a bonne of the male sex. The duties of the former tutor were not complicated. He had to be properly dressed, to smell of scent5, to listen to Kamyshev’s idle babble6, to eat and drink and sleep—and apparently7 that was all. For this he received a room, his board, and an indefinite salary.
“Damnation!” he says, wiping away the tears that have come into his eyes after a mouthful of ham thickly smeared10 with mustard. “Ough! It has shot into my head and all my joints11. Your French mustard would not do that, you know, if you ate the whole potful.”
“No one likes French mustard except Frenchmen. And a Frenchman will eat anything, whatever you give him—frogs and rats and black beetles13. . . brrr! You don’t like that ham, for instance, because it is Russian, but if one were to give you a bit of baked glass and tell you it was French, you would eat it and smack14 your lips. . . . To your thinking everything Russian is nasty.”
“I don’t say that.”
“Everything Russian is nasty, but if it’s French—o say tray zholee! To your thinking there is no country better than France, but to my mind. . . Why, what is France, to tell the truth about it? A little bit of land. Our police captain was sent out there, but in a month he asked to be transferred: there was nowhere to turn round! One can drive round the whole of your France in one day, while here when you drive out of the gate—you can see no end to the land, you can ride on and on. . .”
“Yes, monsieur, Russia is an immense country.”
“To be sure it is! To your thinking there are no better people than the French. Well-educated, clever people! Civilization! I agree, the French are all well-educated with elegant manners. . . that is true. . . . A Frenchman never allows himself to be rude: he hands a lady a chair at the right minute, he doesn’t eat crayfish with his fork, he doesn’t spit on the floor, but . . . there’s not the same spirit in him! not the spirit in him! I don’t know how to explain it to you but, however one is to express it, there’s nothing in a Frenchman of . . . something . . . (the speaker flourishes his fingers) . . . of something . . . fanatical. I remember I have read somewhere that all of you have intelligence acquired from books, while we Russians have innate15 intelligence. If a Russian studies the sciences properly, none of your French professors is a match for him.”
“Perhaps,” says Champoun, as it were reluctantly.
“No, not perhaps, but certainly! It’s no use your frowning, it’s the truth I am speaking. The Russian intelligence is an inventive intelligence. Only of course he is not given a free outlet16 for it, and he is no hand at boasting. He will invent something—and break it or give it to the children to play with, while your Frenchman will invent some nonsensical thing and make an uproar17 for all the world to hear it. The other day Iona the coachman carved a little man out of wood, if you pull the little man by a thread he plays unseemly antics. But Iona does not brag18 of it. . . . I don’t like Frenchmen as a rule. I am not referring to you, but speaking generally. . . . They are an immoral19 people! Outwardly they look like men, but they live like dogs. Take marriage for instance. With us, once you are married, you stick to your wife, and there is no talk about it, but goodness knows how it is with you. The husband is sitting all day long in a café, while his wife fills the house with Frenchmen, and sets to dancing the can-can with them.”
“That’s not true!” Champoun protests, flaring20 up and unable to restrain himself. “The principle of the family is highly esteemed21 in France.”
“We know all about that principle! You ought to be ashamed to defend it: one ought to be impartial22: a pig is always a pig. . . . We must thank the Germans for having beaten them. . . . Yes indeed, God bless them for it.”
“In that case, monsieur, I don’t understand. . .” says the Frenchman leaping up with flashing eyes, “if you hate the French why do you keep me?”
“What am I to do with you?”
“Let me go, and I will go back to France.”
“Wha-at? But do you suppose they would let you into France now? Why, you are a traitor23 to your country! At one time Napoleon’s your great man, at another Gambetta. . . . Who the devil can make you out?”
“Monsieur,” says Champoun in French, spluttering and crushing up his table napkin in his hands, “my worst enemy could not have thought of a greater insult than the outrage24 you have just done to my feelings! All is over!”
And with a tragic25 wave of his arm the Frenchman flings his dinner napkin on the table majestically26, and walks out of the room with dignity.
Three hours later the table is laid again, and the servants bring in the dinner. Kamyshev sits alone at the table. After the preliminary glass he feels a craving27 to babble. He wants to chatter28, but he has no listener.
“What is Alphonse Ludovikovitch doing?” he asks the footman.
“He is packing his trunk, sir.”
“What a noodle! Lord forgive us!” says Kamyshev, and goes in to the Frenchman.
Champoun is sitting on the floor in his room, and with trembling hands is packing in his trunk his linen29, scent bottles, prayer-books, braces30, ties. . . . All his correct figure, his trunk, his bedstead and the table—all have an air of elegance31 and effeminacy. Great tears are dropping from his big blue eyes into the trunk.
The Frenchman says nothing.
“Do you want to go away?” Kamyshev goes on. “Well, you know, but . . . I won’t venture to detain you. But what is queer is, how are you going to travel without a passport? I wonder! You know I have lost your passport. I thrust it in somewhere between some papers, and it is lost. . . . And they are strict about passports among us. Before you have gone three or four miles they pounce33 upon you.”
Champoun raises his head and looks mistrustfully at Kamyshev.
“Yes. . . . You will see! They will see from your face you haven’t a passport, and ask at once: Who is that? Alphonse Champoun. We know that Alphonse Champoun. Wouldn’t you like to go under police escort somewhere nearer home!”
“Are you joking?”
“What motive34 have I for joking? Why should I? Only mind now; it’s a compact, don’t you begin whining35 then and writing letters. I won’t stir a finger when they lead you by in fetters36!”
Champoun jumps up and, pale and wide-eyed, begins pacing up and down the room.
“What are you doing to me?” he says in despair, clutching at his head. “My God! accursed be that hour when the fatal thought of leaving my country entered my head! . . .”
“Come, come, come . . . I was joking!” says Kamyshev in a lower tone. “Queer fish he is; he doesn’t understand a joke. One can’t say a word!”
“My dear friend!” shrieks37 Champoun, reassured38 by Kamyshev’s tone. “I swear I am devoted39 to Russia, to you and your children. . . . To leave you is as bitter to me as death itself! But every word you utter stabs me to the heart!”
“Ah, you queer fish! If I do abuse the French, what reason have you to take offence? You are a queer fish really! You should follow the example of Lazar Isaakitch, my tenant4. I call him one thing and another, a Jew, and a scurvy40 rascal41, and I make a pig’s ear out of my coat tail, and catch him by his Jewish curls. He doesn’t take offence.”
“But he is a slave! For a kopeck he is ready to put up with any insult!”
Champoun powders his tear-stained face and goes with Kamyshev to the dining-room. The first course is eaten in silence, after the second the same performance begins over again, and so Champoun’s sufferings have no end.
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1
deliberately
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adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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2
luxuriously
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adv.奢侈地,豪华地 | |
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3
lieutenants
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n.陆军中尉( lieutenant的名词复数 );副职官员;空军;仅低于…官阶的官员 | |
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4
tenant
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n.承租人;房客;佃户;v.租借,租用 | |
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5
scent
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n.气味,香味,香水,线索,嗅觉;v.嗅,发觉 | |
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6
babble
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v.含糊不清地说,胡言乱语地说,儿语 | |
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7
apparently
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adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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8
babbles
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n.胡言乱语( babble的名词复数 );听不清的声音;乱哄哄的说话声v.喋喋不休( babble的第三人称单数 );作潺潺声(如流水);含糊不清地说话;泄漏秘密 | |
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9
random
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adj.随机的;任意的;n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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10
smeared
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弄脏; 玷污; 涂抹; 擦上 | |
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11
joints
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接头( joint的名词复数 ); 关节; 公共场所(尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所) (非正式); 一块烤肉 (英式英语) | |
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12
assents
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同意,赞同( assent的名词复数 ) | |
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13
beetles
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n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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14
smack
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vt.拍,打,掴;咂嘴;vi.含有…意味;n.拍 | |
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15
innate
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adj.天生的,固有的,天赋的 | |
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16
outlet
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n.出口/路;销路;批发商店;通风口;发泄 | |
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17
uproar
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n.骚动,喧嚣,鼎沸 | |
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18
brag
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v./n.吹牛,自夸;adj.第一流的 | |
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19
immoral
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adj.不道德的,淫荡的,荒淫的,有伤风化的 | |
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20
flaring
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a.火焰摇曳的,过份艳丽的 | |
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21
esteemed
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adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 );敬重;认为;以为 | |
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22
impartial
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adj.(in,to)公正的,无偏见的 | |
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23
traitor
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n.叛徒,卖国贼 | |
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24
outrage
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n.暴行,侮辱,愤怒;vt.凌辱,激怒 | |
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25
tragic
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adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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26
majestically
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雄伟地; 庄重地; 威严地; 崇高地 | |
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27
craving
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n.渴望,热望 | |
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28
chatter
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vi./n.喋喋不休;短促尖叫;(牙齿)打战 | |
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29
linen
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n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
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30
braces
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n.吊带,背带;托架( brace的名词复数 );箍子;括弧;(儿童)牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 );撑牢;使自己站稳;振作起来 | |
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31
elegance
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n.优雅;优美,雅致;精致,巧妙 | |
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32
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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33
pounce
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n.猛扑;v.猛扑,突然袭击,欣然同意 | |
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34
motive
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n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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35
whining
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n. 抱怨,牢骚 v. 哭诉,发牢骚 | |
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36
fetters
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n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 );束缚v.给…上脚镣,束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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37
shrieks
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n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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38
reassured
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adj.使消除疑虑的;使放心的v.再保证,恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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39
devoted
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adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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40
scurvy
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adj.下流的,卑鄙的,无礼的;n.坏血病 | |
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41
rascal
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n.流氓;不诚实的人 | |
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42
concord
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n.和谐;协调 | |
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