A bright spring day was fading into evening. High overhead in the clear heavens small rosy1 clouds seemed hardly to move across the sky but to be sinking into its depths of blue.
In a handsome house in one of the outlying streets of the government town of O—— (it was in the year 1842) two women were sitting at an open window; one was about fifty, the other an old lady of seventy.
The name of the former was Marya Dmitrievna Kalitin. Her husband, a shrewd determined2 man of obstinate3 bilious4 temperament5, had been dead for ten years. He had been a provincial6 public prosecutor7, noted8 in his own day as a successful man of business. He had received a fair education and had been to the university; but having been born in narrow circumstances he realized early in life the necessity of pushing his own way in the world and making money. It had been a love-match on Marya Dmitrievna’s side. He was not bad-looking, was clever and could be very agreeable when he chose. Marya Dmitrievna Pesto — that was her maiden9 name — had lost her parents in childhood. She spent some years in a boarding-school in Moscow, and after leaving school, lived on the family estate of Pokrovskoe, about forty miles from O——, with her aunt and her elder brother. This brother soon after obtained a post in Petersburg, and made them a scanty10 allowance. He treated his aunt and sister very shabbily till his sudden death cut short his career. Marya Dmitrievna inherited Pokrovskoe, but she did not live there long. Two years after her marriage with Kalitin, who succeeded in winning her heart in a few days, Pokrovskoe was exchanged for another estate, which yielded a much larger income, but was utterly11 unattractive and had no house. At the same time Kalitin took a house in the town of O——, in which he and his wife took up their permanent abode12. There was a large garden round the house, which on one side looked out upon the open country away from the town.
“And so,” decided13 Kalitin, who had a great distaste for the quiet of country life, “there would be no need for them to be dragging themselves off into the country.” In her heart Marya Dmitrievna more than once regretted her pretty Pokrovskoe, with its babbling14 brook15, its wide meadows, and green copses; but she never opposed her husband in anything and had the greatest veneration16 for his wisdom and knowledge of the world. When after fifteen years of married life he died leaving her with a son and two daughters, Marya Dmitrievna had grown so accustomed to her house and to town life that she had no inclination17 to leave O——.
In her youth Marya Dmitrievna had always been spoken of as a pretty blonde; and at fifty her features had not lost all charm, though they were somewhat coarser and less delicate in outline. She was more sentimental19 than kindhearted; and even at her mature age, she retained the manners of the boarding-school. She was self-indulgent and easily put out, even moved to tears when she was crossed in any of her habits. She was, however, very sweet and agreeable when all her wishes were carried out and none opposed her. Her house was among the pleasantest in the town. She had a considerable fortune, not so much from her own property as from her husband’s savings20. Her two daughters were living with her; her son was being educated in one of the best government schools in Petersburg.
The old lady sitting with Marya Dmitrievna at the window was her father’s sister, the same aunt with whom she had once spent some solitary21 years in Pokrovskoe. Her name was Marfa Timofyevna Pestov. She had a reputation for eccentricity22 as she was a woman of an independent character, told every one the truth to his face, and even in the most straitened circumstances behaved just as if she had a fortune at her disposal. She could not endure Kalitin, and directly her niece married him, she removed to her little property, where for ten whole years she lived in a smoky peasants’ hut. Marya Dmitrievna was a little afraid of her. A little sharp-nosed woman with black hair and keen eyes even in her old age, Marfa Timofyevna walked briskly, held herself upright and spoke18 quickly and clearly in a sharp ringing voice. She always wore a white cap and a white dressing-jacket.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked Marya Dmitrievna suddenly. “What are you sighing about, pray?”
“Nothing,” answered the latter. “What exquisite23 clouds!”
“You feel sorry for them, eh?”
Marya Dmitrievna made no reply.
“Why is it Gedeonovsky does not come?” observed Marfa Timofyevna, moving her knitting needles quickly. (She was knitting a large woolen24 scarf.) “He would have sighed with you — or at least he’d have had some fib to tell you.”
“How hard you always are on him! Sergei Petrovitch is a worthy25 man.”
“Worthy!” repeated the old lady scornfully.
“And how devoted26 he was to my poor husband!” observed Marya Dmitrievna; “even now he cannot speak of him without emotion.”
“And no wonder! It was he who picked him out of the gutter,” muttered Marfa Timofyevna, and her knitting needles moved faster than ever.
“He looks so meek27 and mild,” she began again, “with his grey head, but he no sooner opens his mouth than out comes a lie or a slander28. And to think of his having the rank of a councillor! To be sure, though, he’s only a village priest’s son.”
“Every one has faults, auntie; that is his weak point, no doubt. Sergei Petrovitch has had no education: of course he does not speak French, still, say what you like, he is an agreeable man.”
“Yes, he is always ready to kiss your hands. He does not speak French — that’s no great loss. I am not over strong in the French lingo29 myself. It would be better if he could not speak at all; he would not tell lies then. But here he is — speak of the devil,” added Marfa Timofyevna looking into the street. “Here comes your agreeable man striding along. What a lanky30 creature he is, just like a stork31!”
Marya Dmitrievna began to arrange her curls. Marfa Timofyevna looked at her ironically.
“What’s that, not a grey hair surely? You must speak to your Palashka, what can she be thinking about?”
“Really, auntie, you are always so . . . ” muttered Marya Dmitrievna in a tone of vexation, drumming on the arm of her chair with her finger-tips.
“Sergei Petrovitch Gedeonovsky!” was announced in a shrill32 piping voice, by a rosy-cheeked little page who made his appearance at the door.
1 rosy | |
adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
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2 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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3 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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4 bilious | |
adj.胆汁过多的;易怒的 | |
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5 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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6 provincial | |
adj.省的,地方的;n.外省人,乡下人 | |
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7 prosecutor | |
n.起诉人;检察官,公诉人 | |
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8 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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9 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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10 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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11 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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12 abode | |
n.住处,住所 | |
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13 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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14 babbling | |
n.胡说,婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 );作潺潺声(如流水);含糊不清地说话;泄漏秘密 | |
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15 brook | |
n.小河,溪;v.忍受,容让 | |
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16 veneration | |
n.尊敬,崇拜 | |
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17 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
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18 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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19 sentimental | |
adj.多愁善感的,感伤的 | |
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20 savings | |
n.存款,储蓄 | |
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21 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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22 eccentricity | |
n.古怪,反常,怪癖 | |
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23 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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24 woolen | |
adj.羊毛(制)的;毛纺的 | |
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25 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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26 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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27 meek | |
adj.温顺的,逆来顺受的 | |
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28 slander | |
n./v.诽谤,污蔑 | |
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29 lingo | |
n.语言不知所云,外国话,隐语 | |
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30 lanky | |
adj.瘦长的 | |
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31 stork | |
n.鹳 | |
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32 shrill | |
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
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