Painful days followed for Fedor Ivanitch. He found himself in a continual fever. Every morning he made for the post, and tore open letters and papers in agitation1, and nowhere did he find anything which could confirm or disprove the fateful rumour2. Sometimes he was disgusting to himself. “What am I about,” he thought, “waiting, like a vulture for blood, for certain news of my wife’s death?” He went to the Kalitins every day, but things had grown no easier for him there; the lady of the house was obviously sulky with him, and received him very condescendingly. Panshin treated him with exaggerated politeness; Lemm had entrenched3 himself in his misanthropy and hardly bowed to him, and, worst of all, Lisa seemed to avoid him. When she happened to be left alone with him, instead of her former candour there was visible embarrassment4 on her part, she did not know what to say to him, and he, too, felt confused. In the space of a few days Lisa had become quite different from what she was as he knew her: in her movements, her voice, her very laugh a secret tremor5, an unevenness6 never there before was apparent. Marya Dmitrievna, like a true egoist, suspected nothing; but Marfa Timofyevna began to keep a watch over her favourite. Lavretsky more than once reproached himself for having shown Lisa the newspaper he had received; he could not but be conscious that in his spiritual condition there was something revolting to a pure nature. He imagined also that the change in Lisa was the result of her inward conflicts, her doubts as to what answer to give Panshin.
One day she brought him a book, a novel of Walter Scott’s, which she had herself asked him for.
“Have you read it?” he said.
“No; I can’t bring myself to read just now,” she answered, and was about to go away.
“Stop a minute, it is so long since I have been alone with you. You seem to be afraid of me.”
“Yes.”
“Why so, pray?”
“I don’t know.”
Lavretsky was silent.
“Tell me,” he began, “you haven’t yet decided7?”
“What do you mean?” she said, not raising her eyes.
“You understand me.”
Lisa flushed crimson8 all at once.
“Don’t ask me about anything!” she broke out hotly. “I know nothing; I don’t know myself.” And instantly she was gone.
The following day Lavretsky arrived at the Kalitins’ after dinner and found there all the preparations for an evening service. In the corner of the dining-room on a square table covered with a clean cloth were already arranged, leaning up against the wall, the small holy pictures in old frames, set with tarnished9 jewels. The old servant in a grey coat and shoes was moving noiselessly and without haste all about the room; he set two wax-candles in the slim candlesticks before the holy pictures, crossed himself, bowed, and slowly went out. The unlighted drawing-room was empty. Lavretsky went into the dining-room and asked if it was some one’s name-day.
In a whisper the told him no, but that the evening service had been arranged at the desire of Lisaveta Mihalovna and Marfa Timofyevna; that it had been intended to invite a wonder-working image, but that the latter had gone thirty versts away to visit a sick man. Soon the priest arrived with the deacons; he was a man no longer young, with a large bald head; he coughed loudly in the hall: the ladies at once filed slowly out of the boudoir, and went up to receive his blessing10; Lavretsky bowed to them in silence; and in silence to him. The priest stood still for a little while, coughed once again, and asked in a bass11 undertone —
“You wish me to begin?”
“Pray begin father,” replied Marya Dmitrievna.
He began to put on his robes; a deacon in a surplice asked obsequiously12 for a hot ember; there was a scent13 of incense14. The maids and men-servants came out from the hall and remained huddled15 close together before the door. Roska, who never came down from up-stairs, suddenly ran into the dining-room; they began to chase her out; she was scared, doubled back into the room and sat down; a footman picked her up and carried her away.
The evening service began. Lavretsky squeezed himself into a corner; his emotions were strange, almost sad; he could not himself make out clearly what he was feeling. Marya Dmitrievna stood in front of all, before the chairs; she crossed herself with languid carelessness, like a grand lady, and first looked about her, then suddenly lifted her eyes to the ceiling; she was bored. Marfa Timofyevna looked worried; Nastasya Karpovna bowed down to the ground and got up with a kind of discreet16, subdued17 rustle18; Lisa remained standing19 in her place motionless; from the concentrated expression of her face it could be seen that she was praying steadfastly20 and fervently21. When she bowed to the cross at the end of the service, she also kissed the large red hand of the priest. Marya Dmitrievna invited the latter to have some tea; he took off his vestment, assumed a somewhat more worldly air, and passed into the drawing-room with the ladies. Conversation — not too lively — began. The priest drank four cups of tea, incessantly22 wiping his bald head with his handkerchief; he related among other things that the merchant Avoshnikov was subscribing23 seven hundred roubles to gilding24 the “cumpola” of the church, and informed them of a sure remedy against freckles25. Lavretsky tried to sit near Lisa, but her manner was severe, almost stern, and she did not once glance at him. She appeared intentionally26 not to observe him; a kind of cold, grave enthusiasm seemed to have taken possession of her. Lavretsky for some reason or other tried to smile and to say something amusing; but there was perplexity in his heart, and he went away at last in secret bewilderment . . . . He felt there was something in Lisa to which he could never penetrate27.
Another time Lavretsky was sitting in the drawing-room listening to the sly but tedious gossip of Gedeonovsky, when suddenly, without himself knowing why, he turned round and caught a profound, attentive28 questioning look in Lisa’s eyes . . . . It was bent29 on him, this enigmatic look. Lavretsky thought of it the whole night long. His love was not like a boy’s; sighs and agonies were not in his line, and Lisa herself did not inspire a passion of that kind; but for every age love has its tortures — and he was spared none of them.
收听单词发音 |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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entrenched
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| adj.确立的，不容易改的(风俗习惯) | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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unevenness
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| n. 不平坦，不平衡，不匀性 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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obsequiously
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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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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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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subscribing
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| v.捐助( subscribe的现在分词 )；签署，题词；订阅；同意 | |
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gilding
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| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
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freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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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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