Meanwhile, down-stairs, preference was going on merrily in the drawing-room; Marya Dmitrievna was winning, and was in high good-humour. A servant came in and announced that Panshin was below.
Marya Dmitrievna dropped her cards and moved restlessly in her arm-chair; Varvara Pavlovna looked at her with a half-smile, then turned her eyes towards the door. Panshin made his appearance in a black frock-coat buttoned up to the throat, and a high English collar. “It was hard for me to obey; but you see I have come,” this was what was expressed by his unsmiling, freshly shaven countenance1.
“Well, Woldemar,” cried Marya Dmitrievna, “you used to come in unannounced!”
Panshin only replied to Marya Dmitrievna by a single glance. He bowed courteously2 to her, but did not kiss her hand. She presented him to Varvara Pavlovna; he stepped back a pace, bowed to her with the same courtesy, but with still greater elegance3 and respect, and took a seat near the card-table. The game of preference was soon over. Panshin inquired after Lisaveta Mihalovna, learnt that she was not quite well, and expressed his regret. Then he began to talk to Varvara Pavlovna, diplomatically weighing each word and giving it its full value, and politely hearing her answers to the end. But the dignity of his diplomatic tone did not impress Varvara Pavlovna, and she did not adopt it. On the contrary, she looked him in the face with light-hearted attention and talked easily, while her delicate nostrils4 were quivering as though with suppressed laughter. Marya Dmitrievna began to enlarge on her talent; Panshin courteously inclined his head, so far as his collar would permit him, declared that, “he felt sure of it beforehand,” and almost turned the conversation to the diplomatic topic of Metternich himself. Varvara Pavlovna, with an expressive5 look in her velvety6 eyes, said in a low voice, “Why, but you too are an artist, un confrere,” adding still lower, “venez!” with a nod towards the piano. The single word venez thrown at him, instantly, as though by magic, effected a complete transformation7 in Panshin’s whole appearance. His care-worn air disappeared; he smiled and grew lively, unbuttoned his coat, and repeating “a poor artist, alas8! Now you, I have heard, are a real artist; he followed Varvara Pavlovna to the piano . . . .
“Make him sing his song, ‘How the Moon Floats,’” cried Marya Dmitrievna.
“Do you sing?” said Varvara Pavlovna, enfolding him in a rapid radiant look. “Sit down.”
Panshin began to cry off.
“Sit down,” she repeated insistently9, tapping on a chair behind him.
He sat down, coughed, tugged10 at his collar, and sang his song.
“Charmant,” pronounced Varvara Pavlovna, “you sing very well, vous avez du style, again.”
She walked round the piano and stood just opposite Panshin. He sang it again, increasing the melodramatic tremor11 in his voice. Varvara Pavlovna stared steadily12 at him, leaning her elbows on the piano and holding her white hands on a level with her lips. Panshin finished the song.
“Charmant, charmant idee,” she said with the calm self-confidence of a connoisseur13. “Tell me, have you composed anything for a woman’s voice, for a mezzo-soprano?”
“I hardly compose at all,” replied Panshin. “That was only thrown off in the intervals14 of business . . . but do you sing?”
“Yes.”
“Oh! sing us something,” urged Marya Dmitrievna.
Varvara Pavlovna pushed her hair back off her glowing cheeks and gave her head a little shake.
“Our voices ought to go well together,” she observed, turning to Panshin; “let us sing a duet. Do you know Son geloso, or La ci darem or Mira la bianca luna?”
“I used to sing Mira la bianca luna, once,” replied Panshin, “but long ago; I have forgotten it.”
“Never mind, we will rehearse it in a low voice. Allow me.”
Varvara Pavlovna sat down at the piano, Panshin stood by her. They sang through the duet in an undertone, and Varvara Pavlovna corrected him several times as they did so, then they sang it aloud, and then twice repeated the performance of Mira la bianca lu-u-na. Varvara Pavlovna’s voice had lost its freshness, but she managed it with great skill. Panshin at first was hesitating, and a little out of tune15, then he warmed up, and if his singing was not quite beyond criticism, at least he shrugged16 his shoulders, swayed his whole person, and lifted his hand from time to time in the most genuine style. Varvara Pavlovna played two or three little things of Thalberg’s, and coquettishly rendered a little French ballad17. Marya Dmitrievna did not know how to express her delight; she several times tried to send for Lisa. Gedeonovsky, too, was at a loss for words, and could only nod his head, but all at once he gave an unexpected yawn, and hardly had time to cover his mouth with his! hand. This yawn did not escape Varvara Pavlovna; she at once turned her back on the piano, observing, “Assez de musique comme ca; let us talk,” and she folded her arms. “oui, assez de musique,” repeated Panshin gaily18, and at once he dropped into a chat, alert, light, and in French. “Precisely19 as in the best Parisian salon,” thought Marya Dmitrievna, as she listened to their fluent and quick-witted sentences. Panshin had a sense of complete satisfaction; his eyes shone, and he smiled. At first he passed his hand across his face, contracted his brows, and sighed spasmodically whenever he chanced to encounter Marya Dmitrievna’s eyes. But later on he forgot her altogether, and gave himself up entirely20 to the enjoyment21 of a half-worldly, half-artistic chat. Varvara Pavlovna proved to be a great philosopher; she had a ready answer for everything; she never hesitated, never doubted about anything; one could see that she had conversed22 much with clever men of all kinds. All her ideas, all her feelings revolved23 round Paris. Panshin turned the conversation upon literature; it seemed that, like himself, she read only French books. George Sand drove her to exasperation24, Balzac she respected, but he wearied her; in Sue and Scribe she saw great knowledge of human nature, Dumas and Feval she adored. In her heart she preferred Paul de Kock to all of them, but of course she did not even mention his name. To tell the truth, literature had no great interest for her. Varvara Pavlovna very skilfully25 avoided all that could even remotely recall her position; there was no reference to love in her remarks; on the contrary, they were rather expressive of austerity in regard to the allurements26 of passion, of disillusionment and resignation. Panshin disputed with her; she did not agree with him . . . . but, strange to say! . . . at the very time when words of censure27-often of severe censure — were coming from her lips, these words had a soft caressing28 sound, and her eyes spoke29 . . . precisely what those lovely eyes spoke, it was hard to say; but at least their utterances30 were anything but severe, and were full of undefined sweetness.
Panshin tried to interpret their secret meaning, he tried to make his own eyes speak, but he felt he was not successful; he was conscious that Varvara Pavlovna, in the character of a real lioness from abroad, stood high above him, and consequently was not completely master of himself. Varvara Pavlovna had a habit in conversation of lightly touching31 the sleeve of the person she was talking to; those momentary32 contacts had a most disquieting33 influence on Vladimir Nikolaitch. Varvara Pavlovna possessed34 the faculty35 of getting on easily with every one; before two hours had passed it seemed to Panshin that he had known her for an age, and Lisa, the same Lisa whom, at any-rate, he had loved, to whom he had the evening before offered his hand, had vanished as it were into a mist. Tea was brought in; the conversation became still more unconstrained. Marya Dmitrievna rang for the page and gave orders to ask Lisa to come down if her head were better. Panshin, hearing Lisa’s name, fell to discussing self-sacrifice and the question which was more capable of sacrifice — man or woman. Marya Dmitrievna at once became excited, began to maintain that woman is more the ready for sacrifice, declared that she would prove it in a couple of words, got confused and finished up by a rather unfortunate comparison. Varvara Pavlovna took up a music-book and half-hiding behind it and bending towards Panshin, she observed in a whisper, as she nibbled36 a biscuit, with a serene37 smile on her lips and in her eyes, “Elle n’a pas invente la poudre, la bonne dame38.” Panshin was a little taken aback and amazed at Varvara Pavlovna’s audacity39; but he did not realise how much contempt for himself was concealed40 in this unexpected outbreak, and forgetting Marya Dmitrievna’s kindness and devotion, forgetting all the dinners she had given him, and the money she had lent him, he replied (luckless mortal!) with the same smile and in the same tone, “je crois bien,” and not even, je crois bien, but j’crois ben!
Varvara flung him a friendly glance and got up. Lisa came in: Marfa Timofyevna had tried in vain to hinder her; she was resolved to go through with her sufferings to the end. Varvara Pavlovna went to meet her together with Panshin, on whose face the former diplomatic expression had reappeared.
“How are you?” he asked Lisa.
“I am better now, thank you,” she replied.
“We have been having a little music here; it’s a pity you did not hear Varvara Pavlovna, she sings superbly, en artiste consommee.”
“Come here, my dear,” sounded Marya Dmitrievna’s voice.
Varvara Pavlovna went to her at once with the submissiveness of a child, and sat down on a little stool at her feet. Marya Dmitrievna had called her so as to leave her daughter, at least for a moment, alone with Panshin; she was still secretly hoping that she would come round. Besides, an idea had entered her head, to which she was anxious to give expression at once.
“Do you know,” she whispered to Varvara Pavlovna, “I want to endeavour to reconcile you and your husband; I won’t answer for my success, but I will make an effort. He has, you know, a great respect for me.” Varvara Pavlovna slowly raised her eyes to Marya Dmitrievna, and eloquently41 clasped her hands.
“You would be my saviour42, ma tante,” she said in a mournful voice: “I don’t know how to thank you for all your kindness; but I have been too guilty towards Fedor Ivanitch; he can not forgive me.”
“But did you — in reality —” Marya Dmitrievna was beginning inquisitively43.
“Don’t question me,” Varvara Pavlovna interrupted her, and she cast down her eyes. “I was young, frivolous44. But I don’t want to justify45 myself.”
“Well, anyway, why not try?” Don’t despair,” rejoined Marya Dmitrievna, and she was on the point of patting her on the cheek, but after a glance at her she had not the courage. “She is humble46, very humble,” she thought, “but still she is a lioness.”
“Are you ill?” Panshin was saying to Lisa meanwhile.
“Yes, I am not well.”
“I understand you,” he brought out after a rather protracted47 silence. “Yes, I understand you.”
“What?”
“I understand you,” Panshin repeated significantly; he simply did not know what to say.
Lisa felt embarrassed, and then “so be it!” she thought. Panshin assumed a mysterious air and kept silent, looking severely48 away.
“I fancy though it’s struck eleven,” remarked Marya Dmitrievna.
Her guests took the hint and began to say good-bye. Varvara Pavlovna had to promise that she would come to dinner the following day and bring Ada. Gedeonovsky, who had all but fallen asleep sitting in his corner, offered to escort her home. Panshin took leave solemnly of all, but at the steps as he put Varvara Pavlovna into her carriage he pressed her hand, and cried after her, “au revoir!” Gedeonovsky sat beside her all the way home. She amused herself by pressing the tip of her little foot as though accidentally on his foot; he was thrown into confusion and began paying her compliments. She tittered and made eyes at him when the light of a street lamp fell into the carriage. The waltz she had played was ringing in her head, and exciting her; whatever position she might find herself in, she had only to imagine lights, a ballroom49, rapid whirling to the strains of music — and her blood was on fire, her eyes glittered strangely, a smile strayed about her lips, and something of bacchanalian50 grace was visible over her whole frame. When she reached home Varvara Pavlovna bounded lightly out of the carriage — only real lionesses know how to bound like that — and turning round to Gedeonovsky she burst suddenly into a ringing laugh right in his face.
“An attractive person,” thought the counsellor of state as he made his way to his lodgings51, where his servant was awaiting him with a glass of opodeldoc: “It’s well I’m a steady fellow — only, what was she laughing at?”
Marfa Timofyevna spent the whole night sitting beside Lisa’s bed.
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1
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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insistently
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| ad.坚持地 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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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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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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allurements
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| n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 )；吸引；诱惑物；有诱惑力的事物 | |
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censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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spoke
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| 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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utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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31
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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33
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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nibbled
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的过去式和过去分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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inquisitively
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| 过分好奇地； 好问地 | |
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44
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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45
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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46
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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47
protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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48
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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49
ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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50
bacchanalian
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| adj.闹酒狂饮的；n.发酒疯的人 | |
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51
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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