Chapter 1 The Tutor, Karl Ivanitch
On the 12th of August, 18-- (just three days after my tenth birthday, when I had been given such wonderful presents), I was awakened at seven o'clock in the morning by Karl Ivanitch slapping the wall close to my head with a fly-flap made of sugar paper and a stick. He did this so roughly that he hit the image of my patron saint suspended to the oaken back of my bed, and the dead fly fell down on my curls. I peeped out from under the coverlet, steadied the still shaking image with my hand, flicked the dead fly on to the floor, and gazed at Karl Ivanitch with sleepy, wrathful eyes. He, in a parti-coloured wadded dressing- gown fastened about the waist with a wide belt of the same material, a red knitted cap adorned with a tassel, and soft slippers of goat skin, went on walking round the walls and taking aim at, and slapping, flies.
"Suppose," I thought to myself," that I am only a small boy, yet why should he disturb me? Why does he not go killing flies around Woloda's bed? No; Woloda is older than I, and I am the youngest of the family, so he torments me. That is what he thinks of all day long--how to tease me. He knows very well that he has woken me up and frightened me, but he pretends not to notice it. Disgusting brute! And his dressing-gown and cap and tassel too-- they are all of them disgusting."
While I was thus inwardly venting my wrath upon Karl Ivanitch, he had passed to his own bedstead, looked at his watch (which hung suspended in a little shoe sewn with bugles), and deposited the fly-flap on a nail, then, evidently in the most cheerful mood possible, he turned round to us.
"Get up, children! It is quite time, and your mother is already in the drawing-room," he exclaimed in his strong German accent. Then he crossed over to me, sat down at my feet, and took his snuff-box out of his pocket. I pretended to be asleep. Karl Ivanitch sneezed, wiped his nose, flicked his fingers, and began amusing himself by teasing me and tickling my toes as he said with a smile, "Well, well, little lazy one!"
For all my dread of being tickled, I determined not to get out of bed or to answer him,. but hid my head deeper in the pillow, kicked out with all my strength, and strained every nerve to keep from laughing.
"How kind he is, and how fond of us!" I thought to myself, Yet to think that I could be hating him so just now!"
I felt angry, both with myself and with Karl Ivanitch, I wanted to laugh and to cry at the same time, for my nerves were all on edge.
"Leave me alone, Karl!" I exclaimed at length, with tears in my eyes, as I raised my head from beneath the bed-clothes.
Karl Ivanitch was taken aback, He left off tickling my feet, and asked me kindly what the matter was, Had I had a disagreeable dream? His good German face and the sympathy with which he sought to know the cause of my tears made them flow the faster. I felt conscience-stricken, and could not understand how, only a minute ago, I had been hating Karl, and thinking his dressing-gown and cap and tassel disgusting. On the contrary, they looked eminently lovable now. Even the tassel seemed another token of his goodness. I replied that I was crying because I had had a bad dream, and had seen Mamma dead and being buried. Of course it was a mere invention, since I did not remember having dreamt anything at all that night, but the truth was that Karl's sympathy as he tried to comfort and reassure me had gradually made me believe that I HAD dreamt such a horrible dream, and so weep the more-- though from a different cause to the one he imagined
When Karl Ivanitch had left me, I sat up in bed and proceeded to draw my stockings over my little feet. The tears had quite dried now, yet the mournful thought of the invented dream was still haunting me a little. Presently Uncle [This term is often applied by children to old servants in Russia] Nicola came in--a neat little man who was always grave, methodical, and respectful, as well as a great friend of Karl's, He brought with him our clothes and boots--at least, boots for Woloda, and for myself the old detestable, be-ribanded shoes. In his presence I felt ashamed to cry, and, moreover, the morning sun was shining so gaily through the window, and Woloda, standing at the washstand as he mimicked Maria Ivanovna (my sister's governess), was laughing so loud and so long, that even the serious Nicola--a towel over his shoulder, the soap in one hand, and the basin in the other--could not help smiling as he said, "Will you please let me wash you, Vladimir Petrovitch?" I had cheered up completely.
"Are you nearly ready?" came Karl's voice from the schoolroom. The tone of that voice sounded stern now, and had nothing in it of the kindness which had just touched me so much. In fact, in the schoolroom Karl was altogether a different man from what he was at other times. There he was the tutor. I washed and dressed myself hurriedly, and, a brush still in my hand as I smoothed my wet hair, answered to his call. Karl, with spectacles on nose and a book in his hand, was sitting, as usual, between the door and one of the windows. To the left of the door were two shelves-- one of them the children's (that is to say, ours), and the other one Karl's own. Upon ours were heaped all sorts of books--lesson books and play books--some standing up and some lying down. The only two standing decorously against the wall were two large volumes of a Histoire des Voyages, in red binding. On that shelf could be seen books thick and thin and books large and small, as well as covers without books and books without covers, since everything got crammed up together anyhow when play time arrived and we were told to put the "library" (as Karl called these shelves) in order The collection of books on his own shelf was, if not so numerous as ours, at least more varied. Three of them in particular I remember, namely, a German pamphlet (minus a cover) on Manuring Cabbages in Kitchen-Gardens, a History of the Seven Years' War (bound in parchment and burnt at one corner), and a Course of Hydrostatics. Though Karl passed so much of his time in reading that he had injured his sight by doing so, he never read anything beyond these books and The Northern Bee.
Another article on Karl's shelf I remember well. This was a round piece of cardboard fastened by a screw to a wooden stand, with a sort of comic picture of a lady and a hairdresser glued to the cardboard. Karl was very clever at fixing pieces of cardboard together, and had devised this contrivance for shielding his weak eyes from any very strong light.
I can see him before me now--the tall figure in its wadded dressing-gown and red cap (a few grey hairs visible beneath the latter) sitting beside the table; the screen with the hairdresser shading his face; one hand holding a book, and the other one resting on the arm of the chair. Before him lie his watch, with a huntsman painted on the dial, a check cotton handkerchief, a round black snuff-box, and a green spectacle- case, The neatness and orderliness of all these articles show clearly that Karl Ivanitch has a clear conscience and a quiet mind.
Sometimes, when tired of running about the salon downstairs, I would steal on tiptoe to the schoolroom and find Karl sitting alone in his armchair as, with a grave and quiet expression on his face, he perused one of his favourite books. Yet sometimes, also, there were moments when he was not reading, and when the spectacles had slipped down his large aquiline nose, and the blue, half-closed eyes and faintly smiling lips seemed to be gazing before them with a curious expression, All would be quiet in the room--not a sound being audible save his regular breathing and the ticking of the watch with the hunter painted on the dial. He would not see me, and I would stand at the door and think:
"Poor, poor old man! There are many of us, and we can play together and be happy, but he sits there all alone, and has nobody to be fond of him. Surely he speaks truth when he says that he is an orphan. And the story of his life, too--how terrible it is! I remember him telling it to Nicola, How dreadful to be in his position!" Then I would feel so sorry for him that I would go to him, and take his hand, and say, "Dear Karl Ivanitch!" and he would be visibly delighted whenever I spoke to him like this, and would look much brighter.
On the second wall of the schoolroom hung some maps--mostly torn, but glued together again by Karl's hand. On the third wall (in the middle of which stood the door) hung, on one side of the door, a couple of rulers (one of them ours--much bescratched, and the other one his--quite a new one), with, on the further side of the door, a blackboard on which our more serious faults were marked by circles and our lesser faults by crosses. To the left of the blackboard was the corner in which we had to kneel when naughty. How well I remember that corner--the shutter on the stove, the ventilator above it, and the noise which it made when turned! Sometimes I would be made to stay in that corner till my back and knees were aching all over, and I would think to myself. "Has Karl Ivanitch forgotten me? He goes on sitting quietly in his arm-chair and reading his Hydrostatics, while I--!" Then, to remind him of my presence, I would begin gently turning the ventilator round. Or scratching some plaster off the wall; but if by chance an extra large piece fell upon the floor, the fright of it was worse than any punishment. I would glance round at Karl, but he would still be sitting there quietly, book in hand, and pretending that he had noticed nothing.
In the middle of the room stood a table, covered with a torn black oilcloth so much cut about with penknives that the edge of the table showed through. Round the table stood unpainted chairs which, through use, had attained a high degree of polish. The fourth and last wall contained three windows, from the first of which the view was as follows, Immediately beneath it there ran a high road on which every irregularity, every pebble, every rut was known and dear to me. Beside the road stretched a row of lime-trees, through which glimpses could be caught of a wattled fence, with a meadow with farm buildings on one side of it and a wood on the other--the whole bounded by the keeper's hut at the further end of the meadow, The next window to the right overlooked the part of the terrace where the "grownups" of the family used to sit before luncheon. Sometimes, when Karl was correcting our exercises, I would look out of that window and see Mamma's dark hair and the backs of some persons with her, and hear the murmur of their talking and laughter. Then I would feel vexed that I could not be there too, and think to myself, "When am I going to be grown up, and to have no more lessons, but sit with the people whom I love instead of with these horrid dialogues in my hand?" Then my anger would change to sadness, and I would fall into such a reverie that I never heard Karl when he scolded me for my mistakes.
At last, on the morning of which I am speaking, Karl Ivanitch took off his dressing-gown, put on his blue frockcoat with its creased and crumpled shoulders, adjusted his tie before the looking-glass, and took us down to greet Mamma.
 
一八XX年八月十二日……也就是我过十岁生日，得到那么珍奇的礼品以后的第三天，早晨七点钟，卡尔•伊凡内奇用棍子上绑着糖纸做的蝇拍就在我的头上面打苍蝇，把我惊醒了。他打得那么笨，不但碰着了挂在柞木床架上的我的守护神的圣像，而且让死苍蝇一直落到我的脑袋上。我从被子下面伸出鼻子，用手扶稳还在摇摆的圣像，把那只死苍蝇扔到地板上，用虽然睡意惺论、却含着怒意的眼光看了卡尔•伊凡内奇一眼。他呢，身上穿着花布棉袍，腰里束着同样料子做的腰带，头上戴着红毛线织的带缨小圆帽，脚上穿着山羊皮靴，继续顺着墙边走来走去，瞅准苍蝇，啪啪地打着。
“就算我小吧，”我想，“可是，他为什么偏偏要惊动我呢？他为什么不在沃洛佳的床边打苍蝇呢 ① ？您瞧，那边有多少啊！不，沃洛佳比我大；我年纪最小，所以他就让我吃苦头。他一辈子净琢磨着怎么叫我不痛快。”我低声说。“他明明看见，他把我弄醒了，吓了我一跳，却硬装作没有注意到的样子……讨厌的家伙！连棉袍、小帽、帽缨，都讨厌死了！”
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①沃洛佳：弗拉基米尔的小名。
当我心里这样恼恨卡尔•伊凡内奇的时候，他走到自己的床前，望了望挂在床头、镶着小玻璃珠的钟座上的钟，然后把蝇拍挂到小钉上，带着一种显然很愉快的心情向我们转过身来。
“Auf，kinden，auf！……s’ist Zeit．Die Mutter ist schon imSaal！” ① 他用德国口音和颜悦色地喊道，然后朝我走过来，坐到我的床边，从衣袋里掏出鼻烟壶。我假装在睡觉。卡尔•伊凡内奇先唤了一撮鼻烟，擦了擦鼻子，弹了弹手指，然后才来收拾我。他一边笑着，一边开始搔我的脚后跟。“Nu，nun，Faule nzer！” ② 他说。
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①“Auf，kinden，auf！……s’ist Zeit Die Mutter ist schon im Saa！”：德语“起来，孩子们，起来……到时候了，妈妈已经在饭厅里了。”
②“Nu，nun，Faulenzer！”：德语“喂，喂，懒骨头。”
尽管我怕痒，我还是没有从床上跳起来，也没有理睬他，只是把头更往枕头里钻．拚命踢蹬，竭力忍住不笑出来。
“他多善良，多喜欢我们，可是我却把他想得那么坏！”
我自己很难过，也替卡尔•伊凡内奇难过；我又想笑，又想哭，心里很乱。
“Ach，lassen，Sie， ① 卡尔•伊凡内奇！”我眼泪汪汪地喊着，把头从枕头底下伸出来。
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①“Ach，lassen Sie”：德语“喂，别碰我。”
卡尔•伊凡内奇吃了一惊，放开我的脚，不安地问我到底是怎么回事？是不是做了什么噩梦？……他那慈祥的德国人的面孔、他那竭力要猜出我为什么流泪的关注神情，更使我泪如雨下了：我很惭愧，而且不明白在一分钟之前，我怎么居然能不喜欢卡尔•伊凡内奇，认为他的棉袍、小帽和帽缨讨厌呢？现在，恰好相反，我觉得这些东西都非常可爱，连帽缨都似乎成了他很善良的证明。我对他说，我哭，是因为我做了一个噩梦，梦见妈妈死了，人们抬着她去下葬。这完全是我凭空编造的，因为我一点也不记得夜里做了什么梦。但是，当卡尔•伊凡内奇被我的谎话所打动，开始安慰我、抚爱我的时候，我却觉得自己真地做了那场噩梦，因此为另外的原因落起泪来了。
当卡尔•伊凡内奇离开我的时候，我从床上抬起身子，往自己的小脚上穿长统袜子，这时眼泪不怎么流了，但是我所虚构的那场噩梦的阴郁的想法，却仍然萦绕在我的脑海里。照料孩子的尼古拉进来了，他是一个身材矮小、爱好整洁的人，一向严肃认真，彬彬有礼，是卡尔•伊凡内奇的好朋友。他给我们送来衣服和鞋；给沃洛佳拿来的是靴子，给我拿来的却是我至今还讨厌的打着花结的鞋。我不好意思当着他的面哭泣；况且，朝阳愉快地从窗口射进来，沃洛佳又站在脸盆架前面，很滑稽地模仿玛丽雅•伊凡诺芙娜（姐姐的女家庭教师），笑得那么开心，那么响亮，连肩头搭着毛巾、一手拿着肥皂、一手提着水壶的一本正经的尼古拉都笑着说：
“得了，费拉基米尔•彼得罗维奇，请洗脸吧。”
我十分快活了。
“Sind sie bald fertig？” ① 从教室里传来卡尔•伊凡内奇的声
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①“Sind sie bald fereig？”：德语“你们快准备好了吗？”
他的声音严厉，已经没有使我感动得落泪的音调了。在教室里，卡尔•伊凡内奇完全是另外一个人了，他是老师。我应声而来，连忙穿上衣服，洗好脸，手里还拿着刷子，一边抚平我的湿漉漉的头发，一边走进教室。
卡尔•伊凡内奇鼻梁上架着眼镜，手里拿着一本书，坐在门窗之间他一向坐的地方。门左边摆着两个小书架：一个是我们孩子们的，另外一个是卡尔•伊凡内奇私人的。我们的书架上摆着各种各样的书——有教科书，也有课外读物。有些竖着，有些平放着，只有两大卷红封面的《Histoire des voyages 》 ① 规规矩矩靠墙竖着，然后是长长的、厚厚的、大大小小的书籍，有的有封皮没书，有的有书没封皮。每当课间休息以前，卡尔•伊凡内奇就吩咐我们整理“图书馆” （卡尔•伊凡内奇夸大其词地把这个小书架称作“图书馆”）的时候，我们总是把一切东西往那里乱塞。老师私人书架上的藏书，虽然册数没有我们书架上的那么多，种类却五花八门。我还记得其中的三册：一本是没有硬封皮的德文小册子，内容讲在白菜地里施肥的方法；一本是羊皮纸的、烧掉了一角的七年战争史；另一本是静体力学全部教程。卡尔•伊凡内奇把大部分时间都消磨在读书上，甚至因此损伤了视力；不过，除了这些书和《北方蜜蜂》杂志以外，他什么都不看。
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①《Histoiredes voyages》：《游记》（法语）
在卡尔•伊凡内奇的小书架上所有的东西中间，有一件东西最能使我想起他来。那就是一只用纸板做的圆盘，它安着木腿，可以借着木钉移动。圆盘上贴着一张漫画，上面画着一个贵妇和一个理发师。卡尔•伊凡内奇粘很得好，这个圆盘也是他自己设计的一做这个圆盘的目的是为了遮住大亮的光线，保护自己的视力衰退的眼睛。
就是现在，我仿佛还能看见他的身影——高高的个儿，穿着棉袍，戴着红色小帽，帽子下面露出稀疏的白发。他坐在一张小桌旁边，桌上摆着那只圆盘，圆盘上的理发师把阴影投射到他的脸上；卡尔•伊凡内奇一只手拿着书，另一只手搭在安乐椅的扶手上，面前放着一只表盘上画着猎人的钟、一块方格手帕、一个圆形的黑鼻烟壶、一只绿色眼镜盒和摆在小托盘里的一把剪烛花的剪刀。这一切东西都那么规规矩矩、整整齐齐地摆在各自的位置上，单凭着这种并井有条的秩序，就可以断定卡尔•伊凡内奇心地纯洁，心平气和。
平常。当我在楼下大厅里跑够了的时候，我总是踮着脚悄悄地上楼，跑进教室，那时候我总是发现，卡尔•伊凡内奇正独自一人坐在安乐椅上，神情安详而庄严地阅读他喜爱的一本什么书。有时也遇到他不在读书。这时他总把眼镜低低地架在大鹰钩鼻上，半睁半闭的蓝眼睛里含着一种特殊的表情，嘴唇忧郁地微笑着。房间里静悄悄的，只听得见他的均匀呼吸声和那块画着猎人的钟嘀嗒作响。
他常常没有发现我，我就站在门边想：“可怜的，可怜的老头儿！我们人多，我们玩呀，乐呀，可是他孤零零一个，没有任何人安慰他。他说自己是孤儿，真是一点也不错。他的身世多么可怕呀！我记得他对尼古拉讲过自己的身世。他的处境真是可怕呀！”我非常可怜他，因此常常走到他跟前，拉住他的一只手说：“Lieb er卡尔•伊凡内奇 ① ！”他很喜欢我这么对他说话。每当这种时刻，他总要抚摸我，显然他深深地受了感动。
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①Lieber：亲爱的（德语）
另一面墙上挂着几幅地图，差不多全是破的，不过，卡尔•伊凡内奇妙手回春，把它们都裱糊得好好的。第三面墙的正中间是通楼梯口的门，门的一边挂着两把尺，一把是我们的，刀痕累累；另外一把是崭新的，是他私人的，他用它训戒人的时候多，画线的时候少。门的另一边挂着一块黑板，上面用圆圈记着我们的大错，用十字记着我们的小错。黑板左边，就是罚我们下跪的角落。
这个角落令我终生难忘！我记得那个炉门、记得炉门上的通风孔以及人们转动它时，它发出的响声。我常常在屋角跪的时间很长，跪得腰酸腿疼。这时候我心里就想：“卡尔•伊凡内奇把我忘了。他大概是舒舒服眼地坐在安乐椅上读他的流体静力学，可是我呢？”为了让他想起我，我就把炉门轻轻打开又关上，或者从墙上抠下一块灰泥。但是，如果忽然有一块大大的灰泥嘭的一声掉到地板上，说真的，单是那份害怕就比任何惩罚都精心。我回头望一望卡尔•伊凡内奇，他却捧着一本书，兀自坐在那儿，好象什么都没有觉察似的。
屋子中间摆着一张桌子，桌上铺着一块破黑漆布，从漆布的许多窟窿里有好多地方透出被铅笔刀划出道道的桌子的边沿。桌子周围摆着几张没有油漆过，但是由于使用了好久，已经磨得锃亮的凳子。最后一面墙上有三扇小窗户。窗外的景色是这样：正前方有一条路，路上的每个坑洼、每颗石子、每道车辙，都是我久已熟悉和喜爱的；走过这条路，就是一个修剪过的菩提树的林荫路，路后有些地方隐隐约约露出用树枝编成的篱笆；在林荫路那边，可以看见一片草地，草地的一边是打谷场，另一边是树林。树林深处，可以看到守林人的小木房。从窗口朝右边眺望，可以看到一部分凉台，午饭以前，大人们常常坐在那里。当卡尔•伊凡内奇批改默写卷子的时候，我常常朝那边观望，我可以看见妈妈的乌黑的头发和什么人的脊背，也可以隐隐约约地听到那里的谈笑声。因为不能到那里去，我心里很生气。我想：“我什么时候才能长大，不再学习，永远不再死念《会话课本》，而同我所喜欢的人坐在一起呢？”气恼会变成悲伤，天知道我为什么沉思，沉思些什么，我想出了神，竟连卡尔•伊凡内奇因为我的错误而发起脾气，我都没有听到。
卡尔•伊凡内奇脱下棉袍，穿上他那件肩头垫得高高的、打着褶的蓝色燕尾眼，照着镜子理一理领带，就领着我们下楼去向妈妈问安了。
Chapter 2 Mamma
Mamma was sitting in the drawing-room and making tea. In one hand she was holding the tea-pot, while with the other one she was drawing water from the urn and letting it drip into the tray. Yet though she appeared to be noticing what she doing, in reality she noted neither this fact nor our entry.
However vivid be one's recollection of the past, any attempt to recall the features of a beloved being shows them to one's vision as through a mist of tears--dim and blurred. Those tears are the tears of the imagination. When I try to recall Mamma as she was then, I see, true, her brown eyes, expressive always of love and kindness, the small mole on her neck below where the small hairs grow, her white embroidered collar, and the delicate, fresh hand which so often caressed me, and which I so often kissed; but her general appearance escapes me altogether.
To the left of the sofa stood an English piano, at which my dark- haired sister Lubotshka was sitting and playing with manifest effort (for her hands were rosy from a recent washing in cold water) Clementi's "Etudes." Then eleven years old, she was dressed in a short cotton frock and white lace-frilled trousers, and could take her octaves only in arpeggio. Beside her was sitting Maria Ivanovna, in a cap adorned with pink ribbons and a blue shawl, Her face was red and cross, and it assumed an expression even more severe when Karl Ivanitch entered the room. Looking angrily at him without answering his bow, she went on beating time with her foot and counting, " One, two, three--one, two, three," more loudly and commandingly than ever.
Karl Ivanitch paid no attention to this rudeness, but went, as usual, with German politeness to kiss Mamma's hand, She drew herself up, shook her head as though by the movement to chase away sad thoughts from her, and gave Karl her hand, kissing him on his wrinkled temple as he bent his head in salutation.
"I thank you, dear Karl Ivanitch," she said in German, and then, still using the same language asked him how we (the children) had slept. Karl Ivanitch was deaf in one ear, and the added noise of the piano now prevented him from hearing anything at all. He moved nearer to the sofa, and, leaning one hand upon the table and lifting his cap above his head, said with, a smile which in those days always seemed to me the perfection of politeness: "You, will excuse me, will you not, Natalia Nicolaevna?"
The reason for this was that, to avoid catching cold, Karl never took off his red cap, but invariably asked permission, on entering the drawing-room, to retain it on his head.
"Yes, pray replace it, Karl Ivanitch," said Mamma, bending towards him and raising her voice, "But I asked you whether the children had slept well? "
Still he did not hear, but, covering his bald head again with the red cap, went on smiling more than ever,
"Stop a moment, Mimi." said Mamma (now smiling also) to Maria Ivanovna. "It is impossible to hear anything."
How beautiful Mamma's face was when she smiled! It made her so infinitely more charming, and everything around her seemed to grow brighter! If in the more painful moments of my life I could have seen that smile before my eyes, I should never have known what grief is. In my opinion, it is in the smile of a face that the essence of what we call beauty lies. If the smile heightens the charm of the face, then the face is a beautiful one. If the smile does not alter the face, then the face is an ordinary one. But if the smile spoils the face, then the face is an ugly one indeed.
Mamma took my head between her hands, bent it gently backwards, looked at me gravely, and said: "You have been crying this morning?"
I did not answer. She kissed my eyes, and said again in German:
"Why did you cry?"
When talking to us with particular intimacy she always used this language, which she knew to perfection.
"I cried about a dream, Mamma" I replied, remembering the invented vision, and trembling involuntarily at the recollection.
Karl Ivanitch confirmed my words, but said nothing as to the subject of the dream. Then, after a little conversation on the weather, in which Mimi also took part, Mamma laid some lumps of sugar on the tray for one or two of the more privileged servants, and crossed over to her embroidery frame, which stood near one of the windows.
"Go to Papa now, children," she said, "and ask him to come to me before he goes to the home farm."
Then the music, the counting, and the wrathful looks from Mimi began again, and we went off to see Papa. Passing through the room which had been known ever since Grandpapa's time as "the pantry," we entered the study,
 
妈妈正坐在客厅里斟茶。她一只手轻轻扶着茶壶，另一只按着茶炊的龙头，龙头里流出来的水漫过茶壶口，溢到托盘里。她虽然目不转睛地望着，却没有注意到这种情况，也没有注意到我们进来。
当你努力追忆一个亲人的容貌时，总有许许多多往事一齐涌上心头，要透过这些回忆来看它，就象透过泪眼看它一样，总是模糊不清。这是想象的眼泪。因此在我极力回忆妈妈当年的音容笑貌时，我只能想象出她那流露着始终如一的慈爱的棕色眼睛，她那颗长在短短的发鬈下面的脖子上的黑痣，她那雪白的绣花衣领和那常常爱抚我、常常让我亲吻的、细嫩纤瘦的手，但是她的整个神态却总是从我的记忆里滑掉。
沙发左边摆着一架古老的英国大钢琴，大钢琴前面坐着我那黑头发、黑皮肤的小姐姐柳博奇卡 ① ，她用刚在冷水里洗过的玫瑰色手指显然很紧张地在弹克莱曼蒂的练习曲 ② 。她十一岁了，穿着一件麻布短衣，一条雪白的、镶花边的衬裤，只能用arpeggio弹八度音 ③ 。她旁边侧身坐着玛丽雅•伊凡诺芙娜。玛丽雅•伊凡诺芙娜戴着有红缎带的包发帽，身穿天蓝色的敞胸短上衣，脸色通红，怒气冲冲；卡尔•伊就内奇一进来，她更加板起脸来了。她威严地望一望他，也不答礼，用脚踏着拍子，继续数着：Un，deux，trois，un，deux，trois” ④ ，声音比以前更响，更专横。
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①柳博奇卡：柳博芙的小名。
②克莱曼蒂（1752-1832）：意大利钢琴家和作曲家。
③arPeggio：意大利语“琶音”。和弦中的各个组成音不是同时而是顺序奏出。
④“Un，deux，trois,un，deux，trois”：法语“一，二，三，一，二，三”
卡尔•伊凡内奇好象丝毫没有注意到这点，还是按照德国的敬礼方式，一直走到我母亲跟前，吻她的小手。她醒悟过来了，摇摇头，仿佛想借此驱散忧思。她把手伸给卡尔•伊凡内奇，当他吻她的手的时候，她吻了吻他那满是皱纹的鬓角。
“Ich danke，lieber卡尔•伊凡内奇 ① ！”她仍旧用德语问道：“孩子们睡得好吗？”
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①Ich danke，lieber：德语“谢谢您，亲爱的”。
卡尔•伊凡内奇本来一只耳朵就聋，现在由于弹钢琴的声音，什么都听不见了。他弯下腰，更靠近沙发一些，一只手扶着桌子，单腿站着，带着一种当时我觉得是最文雅的笑容，把小帽往头上稍微一举，说：
“您原谅我吗，娜达丽雅•尼古拉耶芙娜？”
卡尔•伊凡内奇怕他的秃头着凉，从来不摘掉他那顶小红帽，但是每次走进客厅里来，他都请求人家许他这样。
“戴上吧，卡尔•伊凡内奇……我在问您，孩子们睡得好不好？’”妈妈向他稍微靠近一些说，声音相当响亮。
但是他还是什么也没有听见，用小红帽盖上秃头，笑得更和蔼了。
“你停一下，米米 ① ！”妈妈笑着对玛丽雅•伊就诺芙娜说，“什么都听不见了。”
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①米米：玛丽雅的小名。
妈妈的容貌本来就非常俊秀，当她微笑的时候，就更加美丽无比，周围的一切也仿佛喜气洋溢了。如果我在自己一生中痛苦的时刻能看一眼这种笑容，我就会不晓得什么是悲哀了。我觉得人的美貌就在于一笑：如果这一笑增加了脸上的魅力，这脸就是美的；如果这一笑不使它发生变化，这就是平平常常的；如果这一笑损害了它，它就是丑的。
妈妈同我打过招呼以后，就用双手抱着我的头，使它仰起来，然后，聚精会神地看了我一眼说：
“你今天哭了吗？”
我没有回答。她吻吻我的眼睛，用德语问道：
“你为什么哭啊？”
当她同我们亲切交谈的时候，她总是用她熟诸的这种语言说话的。
“我是在梦里哭的，妈妈，”我说。我回想起虚构的梦境的详情细节，不禁颤抖起来。
卡尔•伊凡内奇证实了我的话，但是对于梦里的事只字未提。大家又谈到天气，米米也参加了谈话。然后，妈妈往托盘里放了六块糖给几个可敬的仆人，就站起身来，走近摆在窗口的刺绣架。
“喂，孩子们，现在到爸爸那里去吧，你们告诉他，他去打谷场以前，一定要到我这里来一趟。”
又是音乐、数拍子，又是严厉的目光。我们到爸爸那里去了。穿过从祖父的时代就保留着“仆从室”这个名称的房间，我们走进了书房。
Chapter 3 Papa
He was standing near his writing-table, and pointing angrily to some envelopes, papers, and little piles of coin upon it as he addressed some observations to the bailiff, Jakoff Michaelovitch, who was standing in his usual place (that is to say, between the door and the barometer) and rapidly closing and unclosing the fingers of the hand which he held behind his back, The more angry Papa grew, the more rapidly did those fingers twirl, and when Papa ceased speaking they came to rest also. Yet, as soon as ever Jakoff himself began to talk, they flew here, there, and everywhere with lightning rapidity. These movements always appeared to me an index of Jakoff's secret thoughts, though his face was invariably placid, and expressive alike of dignity and submissiveness, as who should say, "I am right, yet let it be as you wish." On seeing us, Papa said, "Directly--wait a moment," and looked towards the door as a hint for it to be shut.
"Gracious heavens! What can be the matter with you to-day, Jakoff?" he went on with a hitch of one shoulder (a habit of his). "This envelope here with the 800 roubles enclosed,"--Jacob took out a set of tablets, put down "800" and remained looking at the figures while he waited for what was to come next--"is for expenses during my absence. Do you understand? From the mill you ought to receive 1000 roubles. Is not that so? And from the Treasury mortgage you ought to receive some 8000 roubles. From the hay--of which, according to your calculations, we shall be able to sell 7000 poods [The pood = 40 lbs.]at 45 copecks a piece
there should come in 3000, Consequently the sum-total that you ought to have in hand soon is--how much?--12,000 roubles. Is that right?"
"Precisely," answered Jakoff, Yet by the extreme rapidity with which his fingers were twitching I could see that he had an objection to make. Papa went on:
"Well, of this money you will send 10,000 roubles to the Petrovskoe local council, As for the money already at the office, you will remit it to me, and enter it as spent on this present date." Jakoff turned over the tablet marked "12,000," and put down "21,000"--seeming, by his action, to imply that 12,000 roubles had been turned over in the same fashion as he had turned the tablet. "And this envelope with the enclosed money," concluded Papa, "you will deliver for me to the person to whom it is addressed."
I was standing close to the table, and could see the address. It was "To Karl Ivanitch Mayer." Perhaps Papa had an idea that I had read something which I ought not, for he touched my shoulder with his hand and made me aware, by a slight movement, that I must withdraw from the table. Not sure whether the movement was meant for a caress or a command, I kissed the large, sinewy hand which rested upon my shoulder.
"Very well," said Jakoff. "And what are your orders about the accounts for the money from Chabarovska?" (Chabarovska was Mamma's village.)
"Only that they are to remain in my office, and not to be taken thence without my express instructions."
For a minute or two Jakoff was silent. Then his fingers began to twitch with extraordinary rapidity, and, changing the expression of deferential vacancy with which he had listened to his orders for one of shrewd intelligence, he turned his tablets back and spoke.
"Will you allow me to inform you, Peter Alexandritch," he said, with frequent pauses between his words, "that, however much you wish it, it is out of the question to repay the local council now. You enumerated some items, I think, as to what ought to come in from the mortgage, the mill, and the hay (he jotted down each of these items on his tablets again as he spoke)." Yet I fear that we must have made a mistake somewhere in the accounts." Here he paused a while, and looked gravely at Papa.
"How so?"
"Well, will you be good enough to look for yourself? There is the account for the mill. The miller has been to me twice to ask for time, and I am afraid that he has no money whatever in hand. He is here now. Would you like to speak to him?"
"No. Tell me what he says," replied Papa, showing by a movement of his head that he had no desire to have speech with the miller,
"Well, it is easy enough to guess what he says. He declares that there is no grinding to be got now, and that his last remaining money has gone to pay for the dam. What good would it do for us to turn him out? As to what you were pleased to say about the mortgage, you yourself are aware that your money there is locked up and cannot be recovered at a moment's notice. I was sending a load of flour to Ivan Afanovitch to-day, and sent him a letter as well, to which he replies that he would have been glad to oblige you, Peter Alexandritch, were it not that the matter is out of his hands now, and that all the circumstances show that it would take you at least two months to withdraw the money. From the hay I understood you to estimate a return of 3000 roubles?" (Here Jakoff jotted down "3000" on his tablets, and then looked for a moment from the figures to Papa with a peculiar expression on his face.) "Well, surely you see for yourself how little that is? And even then we should lose if we were to sell the stuff now, for you must know that--"
It was clear that he would have had many other arguments to adduce had not Papa interrupted him,
"I cannot make any change in my arrangements," said Papa. "Yet if there should REALLY have to be any delay in the recovery of these sums, we could borrow what we wanted from the Chabarovska funds."
"Very well, sir." The expression of Jakoff's face and the way in which he twitched his fingers showed that this order had given him great satisfaction. He was a serf, and a most zealous, devoted one, but, like all good bailiffs, exacting and parsimonious to a degree in the interests of his master. Moreover, he had some queer notions of his own. He was forever endeavouring to increase his master's property at the expense of his mistress's, and to prove that it would be impossible to avoid using the rents from her estates for the benefit of Petrovskoe (my father's village, and the place where we lived). This point he had now gained and was delighted in consequence.
Papa then greeted ourselves, and said that if we stayed much longer in the country we should become lazy boys; that we were growing quite big now, and must set about doing lessons in earnest,
"I suppose you know that I am starting for Moscow to-night?" he went on, "and that I am going to take you with me? You will live with Grandmamma, but Mamma and the girls will remain here. You know, too, I am sure, that Mamma's one consolation will be to hear that you are doing your lessons well and pleasing every one around you."
The preparations which had been in progress for some days past had made us expect some unusual event, but this news left us thunderstruck, Woloda turned red, and, with a shaking voice, delivered Mamma's message to Papa.
"So this was what my dream foreboded!" I thought to myself. "God send that there come nothing worse!" I felt terribly sorry to have to leave Mamma, but at the same rejoiced to think that I should soon be grown up, "If we are going to-day, we shall probably have no lessons to do, and that will be splendid, However, I am sorry for Karl Ivanitch, for he will certainly be dismissed now. That was why that envelope had been prepared for him. I think I would almost rather stay and do lessons here than leave Mamma or hurt poor Karl. He is miserable enough already."
As these thoughts crossed my mind I stood looking sadly at the black ribbons on my shoes, After a few words to Karl Ivanitch about the depression of the barometer and an injunction to Jakoff not to feed the hounds, since a farewell meet was to be held after luncheon, Papa disappointed my hopes by sending us off to lessons--though he also consoled us by promising to take us out hunting later.
On my way upstairs I made a digression to the terrace. Near the door leading on to it Papa's favourite hound, Milka, was lying in the sun and blinking her eyes.
"Miloshka," I cried as I caressed her and kissed her nose, we are going away today. Good-bye. Perhaps we shall never see each other again." I was crying and laughing at the same time.
 
他站在写字台前，指着一些信封、文件和几堆钱，神情焦躁，激动地对管家雅柯夫•米哈伊洛夫说明什么，管家站在他一向站的房门和晴雨表之间，反剪着双手，手指很快地乱动着。
爸爸愈是急躁，管家的手指就动得愈快，反过来，爸爸不做声了，他的手指也就不动了。当雅柯夫自己开始讲话的时候，他的手指又极不安宁地拚命向四面乱动弹。从手指的动作上，我觉得可以猜测出雅柯夫内心的思想。他的神情总是很沉着，这说明他既意识到自己的尊严，同时也意识到自己是受人管的，这就是说：“我是对的，不过随您的便吧！”
爸爸看见我们，只说了一声：
“等一下，马上就完。”
接着用头示意，叫我们中间的一个人关上门。
“啊，慈悲的上帝啊！你今天是怎么回事，雅柯夫？”他继续对管家说着，耸了耸一边的肩膀（这是他的习惯）。“这只装着八百卢布的信封……”
雅柯夫把算盘拉近一些，用算盘珠拨出八百这个数字，眼睛盯着一个不明确的地方，等着听下文。
“……用来做我出门时的花销。你明白吗？从磨坊那里你可以收到一千卢布……对不对？你可以从国库收回八千卢布押金；干草，按照你自己的估计，可以出卖七千普特，就算四十五个戈比一普特，你可以收到三千卢布；这样一来，你总共可以收到多少钱？一万二千卢布……是不是？”
“是的，”雅柯夫说。
但是，根据他的飞快地动弹的手指来看，我觉察出他要提出异议。爸爸打断了他的话头。
“好吧，你要代彼得洛夫斯科耶庄园寄一万卢布给委员会。帐房里存的钱，”爸爸接下去说（（雅柯夫把他在算盘上拨出来的一万二千抹掉，打上二万一千），“你现在给我拿来，就算今天支出好了。（雅柯夫又抹掉算盘珠儿，把算盘翻转，想必是以此表示那二万一千卢布也没有了。）这个装着钱的信封，你要给我按照上面写的地址转交。”
我站得离桌子很近，因此瞟了瞟信封上的字。上面写着：“卡尔•伊凡内奇•毛叶尔。”
爸爸大概注意到我看了我不应该知道的东西，就把手放到我的肩头上，轻轻把我从桌边推开。我不了解这是爱抚还是斥责，但是不管怎样，我还是吻了吻搭在我肩头的那只青筋嶙嶙的大手。
“是！”雅柯夫说。“关于哈巴洛夫卡那笔钱，您有什么吩咐吗？”
哈巴洛夫卡是妈妈的庄园。
“存在帐房里，没有我的命令，绝对不准动用。”
雅柯夫沉默了几秒钟；接着，他的手指突然动得更快了。他在聆听主人命令时那副呆头呆脑、唯命是从的样子变了，又露出精明滑头的本相来。他把算盘拉近些，开口说：
“让我向您报告一下，彼得•亚历山德雷奇，您可以随意处理，不过委员会那笔钱不能如期付清。您会说，”他抑扬顿挫地继续说，“从押金、磨坊、干草上我们应该收到一笔进项……（他一边说这些项目，一边在算盘上打出数字来。）不过我看，这些款项怕是我们算错了。”他沉默了一会儿，意味深长地看了爸爸一眼，这样补充了一句。
“为什么？”
“您瞧呀：关于磨坊的事，磨坊老板已经来找过我两次，要求延期付款，赌咒发誓，一口咬定他没有钱……他现在就在这儿，您是不是愿意亲自同他谈谈？”
“他说什么？”爸爸追问道，摇了摇头，表示他不想同磨坊老板谈话。
“这不是明摆着的嘛！他说根本没有生意，他仅有的那一点点钱都用在水坝上了。假定我们把他赶走，老爷，我们又会得到什么好处呢？你又提到押金，我好象已经向您报告过了，我们的钱投到那里，不会很快收回来的。前几天我往城里给伊凡•阿凡纳西奇运去一车面粉，顺便捎信问起这件事。可是，他老人家的回信又是那一套：‘我很高兴为彼得•亚历山德雷奇效劳，但是事情由不得我做主，’从这一切情况看来，再过两个月，您也未必收得到这笔款。至于您所说的干草，假定可以卖到三千卢布……”
他把算盘珠拨上三千，沉默了一下，一会儿看看算盘，一会儿又看看爸爸的眼睛，仿佛说：
“您自己看看，这太少了！再说，卖干草还得赔本；如果现在我们就卖出去，您自己不知道……”
看样子，他还有一大堆理由。大概就是因为这个缘故爸爸没有让他再说下去：
“我不改变自己的决定，”他说，“不过，如果这些款项当真要拖延好久才能收到，那也没有办法，需要多少钱，你就动用哈巴洛夫卡那笔钱好了。”
“是！”
从雅柯夫的脸色和手指的动作可以看出，最后这个命令使他非常满意。
雅柯夫原来是个农奴，为人非常勤恳，忠心耿耿。他象所有的好管家一样，很会香自己的主人精打细算，对主人的利益抱着非常古怪的见解。他总是千方百计地减损女主人的财产来增加男主人的财产，因此就极力证明，非动用女主人庄园的一切收入来贴补彼得洛夫斯科耶（就是我们居住的村庄）不可。这时他扬扬得意，因为在这一点上他完全如愿以偿了。
爸爸跟我们道过早安以后，就说，我们在乡下闲散够了，我们不再是孩子，应该认真学习了。
“我想，你们已经知道我今天夜里要去莫斯科，而且要把你们带去，”他说。“你们要住在外祖母家，妈妈跟女孩子们留在这儿。你们要知道，听到你们学习成绩很好，令人满意，这对妈妈将是一种安慰。”
虽然由于最近几天所做的准备，我们已经料到要发生什么不寻常的事，但是这个消息还是使我们大吃一惊。沃洛佳脸红了，用颤抖的声音传达了妈妈让捎的话。
“我的梦给我的原来就是这个预兆！”我寻思了一下。“千万别发生更糟心的事了。”
我非常，非常舍不得妈妈，但同时，一想到我们真的成了大人，心里又很高兴。
“如果我们今天就走，那就一定不上课了。这太妙了！”我暗自思索。“可是，我替卡尔•伊凡内奇难过。他大概会被辞退，要不然，就不会给他准备那个封套了……最好还是永远学习下去，不要走，不要离开妈妈，也不要让可怜的卡尔•伊凡内奇伤心。他本来就够不幸的了。”
这些思想掠过我的心头；我一动也不动，目不转睛地望着我鞋上的黑蝴蝶结。
爸爸同卡尔•伊凡内奇又谈了几句关于晴雨表下降的事，吩咐雅柯夫不要喂狗，好在临走以前，吃过午饭去试一试小猎狗。这以后，跟我的预料相反，他打发我们去上课，不过安慰我们说，要带我们去打猎。
我上楼时，顺便跑到凉台上去看看，爸爸心爱的猎狗米尔卡正眯缝着眼睛，卧在门口晒太阳。
“亲爱的米尔卡，”我抚摩着它，吻它的小脸说，“我们今天就要走了。再见吧！我们再也不会见面了。”
我心一软，就哭了起来。
Chapter 4 Lessons
Karl Ivanitch was in a bad temper, This was clear from his contracted brows, and from the way in which he flung his frockcoat into a drawer, angrily donned his old dressing-gown again, and made deep dints with his nails to mark the place in the book of dialogues to which we were to learn by heart. Woloda began working diligently, but I was too distracted to do anything at all. For a long while I stared vacantly at the book; but tears at the thought of the impending separation kept rushing to my eyes and preventing me from reading a single word. When at length the time came to repeat the dialogues to Karl (who listened to us with blinking eyes--a very bad sign), I had no sooner reached the place where some one asks, "Wo kommen Sie her?" ("Where do you come from?") and some one else answers him, "lch komme vom Kaffeehaus" ("I come from the coffee-house"), than I burst into tears and, for sobbing, could not pronounce, "Haben Sie die Zeitung nicht gelesen?" (Have you not read the newspaper?") at all. Next, when we came to our writing lesson, the tears kept falling from my eyes and, making a mess on the paper, as though some one had written on blotting- paper with water, Karl was very angry. He ordered me to go down upon my knees, declared that it was all obstinacy and " puppet- comedy playing" (a favourite expression of his) on my part, threatened me with the ruler, and commanded me to say that I was sorry. Yet for sobbing and crying I could not get a word out. At last--conscious, perhaps, that he was unjust--he departed to Nicola's pantry, and slammed the door behind him. Nevertheless their conversation there carried to the schoolroom.
"Have you heard that the children are going to Moscow, Nicola?" said Karl.
"Yes. How could I help hearing it?"
At this point Nicola seemed to get up for Karl said, "Sit down, Nicola," and then locked the door. However, I came out of my corner and crept to the door to listen.
"However much you may do for people, and however fond of them you may be, never expect any gratitude, Nicola," said Karl warmly. Nicola, who was shoe-cobbling by the window, nodded his head in assent.
"Twelve years have I lived in this house," went on Karl, lifting his eyes and his snuff-box towards the ceiling, "and before God I can say that I have loved them, and worked for them, even more than if they had been my own children. You recollect, Nicola, when Woloda had the fever? You recollect how, for nine days and nights, I never closed my eyes as I sat beside his bed? Yes, at that time I was 'the dear, good Karl Ivanitch'--I was wanted then; but now"--and he smiled ironically--"the children are growing up, and must go to study in earnest. Perhaps they never learnt anything with me, Nicola? Eh?"
"I am sure they did," replied Nicola, laying his awl down and straightening a piece of thread with his hands.
"No, I am wanted no longer, and am to be turned out. What good are promises and gratitude? Natalia Nicolaevna"--here he laid his hand upon his heart--"I love and revere, but what can SHE I do here? Her will is powerless in this house."
He flung a strip of leather on the floor with an angry gesture. "Yet I know who has been playing tricks here, and why I am no longer wanted. It is because I do not flatter and toady as certain people do. I am in the habit of speaking the truth in all places and to all persons," he continued proudly, "God be with these children, for my leaving them will benefit them little, whereas I--well, by God's help I may be able to earn a crust of bread somewhere. Nicola, eh?"
Nicola raised his head and looked at Karl as though to consider whether he would indeed be able to earn a crust of bread, but he said nothing. Karl said a great deal more of the same kind--in particular how much better his services had been appreciated at a certain general's where he had formerly lived (I regretted to hear that). Likewise he spoke of Saxony, his parents, his friend the tailor, Schonheit (beauty), and so on.
I sympathised with his distress, and felt dreadfully sorry that he and Papa (both of whom I loved about equally) had had a difference. Then I returned to my corner, crouched down upon my heels, and fell to thinking how a reconciliation between them might be effected.
Returning to the study, Karl ordered me to get up and prepare to write from dictation. When I was ready he sat down with a dignified air in his arm-chair, and in a voice which seemed to come from a profound abyss began to dictate: "Von al-len Lei- den-shaf-ten die grau-samste ist. Have you written that? " He paused, took a pinch of snuff, and began again: "Die grausamste ist die Un-dank-bar-keit [The most cruel of all passions is ingratitude.] a capital U, mind."
The last word written, I looked at him, for him to go on,
"Punctum" (stop), he concluded, with a faintly perceptible smile, as he signed to us to hand him our copy-books.
Several times, and in several different tones, and always with an expression of the greatest satisfaction, did he read out that sentence, which expressed his predominant thought at the moment, Then he set us to learn a lesson in history, and sat down near the window. His face did not look so depressed now, but, on the contrary, expressed eloquently the satisfaction of a man who had avenged himself for an injury dealt him.
By this time it was a quarter to one o'clock, but Karl Ivanitch never thought of releasing us, He merely set us a new lesson to learn. My fatigue and hunger were increasing in equal proportions, so that I eagerly followed every sign of the approach of luncheon. First came the housemaid with a cloth to wipe the plates, Next, the sound of crockery resounded in the dining-room, as the table was moved and chairs placed round it, After that, Mimi, Lubotshka, and Katenka. (Katenka was Mimi's daughter, and twelve years old) came in from the garden, but Foka (the servant who always used to come and announce luncheon) was not yet to be seen. Only when he entered was it lawful to throw one's books aside and run downstairs.
Hark! Steps resounded on the staircase, but they were not Foka's. Foka's I had learnt to study, and knew the creaking of his boots well. The door opened, and a figure unknown to me made its appearance,
 
卡尔•伊凡内奇情绪不佳。这从他那皱紧的眉头，从他把大礼服抛进五屉柜，怒气冲冲地系腰带，用指甲使劲在《会话课本》上划一条线，标明我们要背熟的地方等等动作来看，都可以看得出。沃洛佳规规矩矩地学习，我却心里烦躁，什么也做不出来。我茫然若失地对《会话课本》望了好久。但是一想到就要离别，我便热泪盈眶，再也读不下去了。轮到我向卡尔•伊凡内奇说那段会话的时候，他眯缝着眼睛听我说（这是一种不祥的兆头）。恰恰到一个人问：“Wo kommen sie her？” ① 另一个回答说：“Ich komme vom Kaffe—Hause”的地方 ② ，我再也忍不住眼泪，由于痛哭失声，就说不出：“Haben Sie die Zeitung nicht gelesen？” ③ 这句话来了。到习字的时候，泪水落到纸上，弄得满纸墨斑，看上去好象是用水在包装纸上写的。
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①“Wo kommen sie her？”：德语“您从哪里来？”
②“Ich komme vom kaffe-Hause”：德语“我从咖啡馆里来。”
③“Haben sie die zeitung nicht gelesen？”：德语“您没有看过报吗？”
卡尔•伊凡内奇生起气来，罚我跪下。反复地说，这是倔脾气，装腔作势（这是他的口头禅），用戒尺威吓我，要我讨饶，我却被泪水哽住了。连一个字也说不出来。最后，一他大概感到自己做事不公平，就走进尼古拉的房间，砰的一声把门关上。
从教室里可以听到下房里的谈话。
“孩子们要去莫斯科，你听说了吧，尼古拉？”卡尔•伊凡内奇一进屋就说。
“不错，听说了。”
想必是尼古拉要站起来，因为卡尔•伊凡内奇说；“坐着吧，尼古拉！”随后就关上门。我离开墙角，走到门边去偷听。
“不论替人家做了多少好事，不论多么忠心耿耿，看起来，决不能指望人家感激你。尼古拉，对不对？”卡尔•伊凡内奇感伤地说。
坐在窗口补靴子的尼古拉，肯定地点点头。
“我在这所房子里住了十二年，我可以当着上帝起誓，尼古拉，”卡尔•伊凡内奇接着说，’朝天花板抬起眼睛和鼻烟壶，“我爱护他们，照顾他们，比对自己的孩子都尽心。你记得吧，尼古拉，沃洛佳害热病的时候，你记得我怎样在他的床边坐了九天没有合眼。是的，那时我是个好心的人。是亲爱的卡尔•伊凡内奇；那时用得着我。可是现在呢，”他含着一丝讽刺的笑意补充说，“现在孩子长大了，得认真学习了！好象他们在这儿没有学习似的。尼古拉，是不是？”
“好象还得学习，”尼古拉放下锥子，双手拉着麻绳说。
“是的，现在用不着我了，要把我赶走了；诺言丢到哪儿去啦？哪儿有感激的意思？尼古拉呀，我很敬爱娜达丽雅•尼古拉耶芙娜，”他一只手按着胸口说，“但是她又怎样呢？……在这所房子里，她的意旨反正是无足轻重的。”这时，他用一种富于表情的手势，把一小片碎皮子扔到地板上。“我知道这是谁出的鬼主意，为什么不需要我了。因为我不会象有些人那样阿谀逢迎，随声附和。我对任何人都总爱讲老实话，”他骄傲地说。“别去管他们！我不在这里，他们也发不了财。而我呢，上帝是慈悲的，总会找到一块面包的……是不是，尼古拉？”
尼古拉抬起头，看了看卡尔‘伊凡内奇，好象想弄清他是不是真的会找到一块面包。不过，他一句话也没有说。
卡尔•伊凡内奇照这样又唠叨了很久，说了好多。他提到，他以前住在某将军家里，他的功劳得到了较好的报酬（听见这话，我心里难过），他说到萨克森、他的父母、他的朋友会恩海特裁缝，等等，等等。
我很同情他的痛苦。我对父亲和卡尔•伊凡内奇几乎是同样敬爱的，一想到他们互不理解，心里就很难过：我又回到角落里跪下，考虑怎样才可以使他们言归于好。
卡尔•伊凡内奇回到教室以后，吩咐我站起来，准备默写的练习本。等一切都准备就绪，他就威严地坐在自己的安乐椅上，用一种仿佛发自内心深处的声音开始口授：“Von al—len Lei—den一schaf—ten die grau—samste ist……haben s ie geschrie—ben？ ① ”说到这儿，他停了一停，慢吞吞地吸了一撮鼻烟，打起精神接着说：“Die grausamste ist die Un—dank—bar—keit……Ein grossesU ② ”。我等着他往下说，写好最后一个字之后，向他望了一眼。
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①“Von al－len lei-den-schaf-ten die grau-samste ist……baben sie geschrie-ben？”：德语“在一切缺点中，最可怕的……写好了吗？”
②“Die grausamste ist die undank-bar-keit……Ein grosses U”：德语“最可怕的是忘恩负义……”U要大写。
“Punctum ① ，”他含着一丝几乎觉察不出的微笑说，然后做了一个手势，要我们把练习本交给他。
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①Punctum：德语“句点”。
他用抑扬顿挫的声调，带着极其满意的神情把这句表达自己内心思想的格，读了好几遍。随后，他就坐在窗口给我们上历史课。他的脸色不象先前那么阴沉了，流露出一个已经充分出了气的人的得意神情。
差一刻就一点钟了；但是，卡尔‘伊凡内奇好象还不想放我们走：他接连不断地给我们上新课。无聊和食欲同样地增长起来。我急不可耐地注意着表明快吃午饭的一切迹象。一会儿一个女仆拿着擦子去刷碟子，一会儿听见饭厅里餐具的响声和挪动桌椅地声音，一会儿米米、柳博奇卡和卡简卡（卡简卡是米米的女儿，十二岁）从花园里走进来。但是福加——总是来宣布开饭的管家福加——却没有露面。只有他露面的时候，我们才能扔下书本，不顾卡尔•伊凡内奇，跑下楼去。
这回听见楼梯上的脚步声了；但这并不是福加，我熟悉他的脚步声，永远听得出他的靴子的咯吱声。门打开了，一个我完全不认识的人出现在门口。
Chapter 5 The Idiot
The man who now entered the room was about fifty years old, with a pale, attenuated face pitted with smallpox, long grey hair, and a scanty beard of a reddish hue. Likewise he was so tall that, on coming through the doorway, he was forced not only to bend his head, but to incline his whole body forward. He was dressed in a sort of smock that was much torn, and held in his hand a stout staff. As he entered he smote this staff upon the floor, and, contracting his brows and opening his mouth to its fullest extent, laughed in a dreadful, unnatural way. He had lost the sight of one eye, and its colourless pupil kept rolling about and imparting to his hideous face an even more repellent expression than it otherwise bore.
"Hullo, you are caught!" he exclaimed as he ran to Woloda with little short steps and, seizing him round the head, looked at it searchingly. Next he left him, went to the table, and, with a perfectly serious expression on his face, began to blow under the oil-cloth, and to make the sign of the cross over it, "O-oh, what a pity! O-oh, how it hurts! They are angry! They fly from me!" he exclaimed in a tearful choking voice as he glared at Woloda and wiped away the streaming tears with his sleeve, His voice was harsh and rough, all his movements hysterical and spasmodic, and his words devoid of sense or connection (for he used no conjunctions). Yet the tone of that voice was so heartrending, and his yellow, deformed face at times so sincere and pitiful in its expression, that, as one listened to him, it was impossible to repress a mingled sensation of pity, grief, and fear.
This was the idiot Grisha. Whence he had come, or who were his parents, or what had induced him to choose the strange life which he led, no one ever knew. All that I myself knew was that from his fifteenth year upwards he had been known as an imbecile who went barefooted both in winter and summer, visited convents, gave little images to any one who cared to take them, and spoke meaningless words which some people took for prophecies; that nobody remembered him as being different; that at, rate intervals he used to call at Grandmamma's house; and that by some people
he was said to be the outcast son of rich parents and a pure,
saintly soul, while others averred that he was a mere peasant
and an idler.
At last the punctual and wished-for Foka arrived, and we went downstairs. Grisha followed us sobbing and continuing to talk nonsense, and knocking his staff on each step of the staircase. When we entered the drawing-room we found Papa and Mamma walking up and down there, with their hands clasped in each other's, and talking in low tones. Maria Ivanovna was sitting bolt upright in an arm-chair placed at tight angles to the sofa, and giving some sort of a lesson to the two girls sitting beside her. When Karl Ivanitch entered the room she looked at him for a moment, and then turned her eyes away with an expression which seemed to say, "You are beneath my notice, Karl Ivanitch." It was easy to see from the girls' eyes that they had important news to communicate to us as soon as an opportunity occurred (for to leave their seats and approach us first was contrary to Mimi's rules). It was for us to go to her and say, "Bon jour, Mimi," and then make her a low bow; after which we should possibly be permitted to enter into conversation with the girls.
What an intolerable creature that Mimi was! One could hardly say a word in her presence without being found fault with. Also whenever we wanted to speak in Russian, she would say, "Parlez, donc, francais," as though on purpose to annoy us, while, if there was any particularly nice dish at luncheon which we wished to enjoy in peace, she would keep on ejaculating, "Mangez, donc, avec du pain!" or, "Comment est-ce que vous tenez votre fourchette?" "What has SHE got to do with us?" I used to think to myself. "Let her teach the girls. WE have our Karl Ivanitch." I shared to the full his dislike of "certain people."
"Ask Mamma to let us go hunting too," Katenka whispered to me, as she caught me by the sleeve just when the elders of the family were making a move towards the dining-room.
"Very well. I will try."
Grisha likewise took a seat in the dining-room, but at a little table apart from the rest. He never lifted his eyes from his plate, but kept on sighing and making horrible grimaces, as he muttered to himself: "What a pity! It has flown away! The dove is flying to heaven! The stone lies on the tomb!" and so forth.
Ever since the morning Mamma had been absent-minded, and Grisha's presence, words, and actions seemed to make her more so.
"By the way, there is something I forgot to ask you," she said, as she handed Papa a plate of soup,
"What is it?"
"That you will have those dreadful dogs of yours tied up, They nearly worried poor Grisha to death when he entered the courtyard, and I am sure they will bite the children some day."
No sooner did Grisha hear himself mentioned that he turned towards our table and showed us his torn clothes. Then, as he went on with his meal, he said: "He would have let them tear me in pieces, but God would not allow it! What a sin to let the dogs loose--a great sin! But do not beat him, master; do not beat him! It is for God to forgive! It is past now!"
"What does he say?" said Papa, looking at him gravely and sternly. "I cannot understand him at all."
"I think he is saying," replied Mamma, "that one of the huntsmen set the dogs on him, but that God would not allow him to be torn in pieces, Therefore he begs you not to punish the man."
"Oh, is that it? " said Papa, "How does he know that I intended to punish the huntsman? You know, I am pot very fond of fellows like this," he added in French, "and this one offends me particularly. Should it ever happen that--"
"Oh, don't say so," interrupted Mamma, as if frightened by some thought. "How can you know what he is?"
"I think I have plenty of opportunities for doing so, since no lack of them come to see you--all of them the same sort, and probably all with the same story."
I could see that Mamma's opinion differed from his, but that she did not mean to quarrel about it.
"Please hand me the cakes," she said to him, "Are they good to- day or not?"
"Yes, I AM angry," he went on as he took the cakes and put them where Mamma could not reach them, "very angry at seeing supposedly reasonable and educated people let themselves be deceived," and he struck the table with his fork.
"I asked you to hand me the cakes," she repeated with outstretched hand.
"And it is a good thing," Papa continued as he put the hand aside, "that the police run such vagabonds in. All they are good for is to play upon the nerves of certain people who are already not over-strong in that respect," and he smiled, observing that Mamma did not like the conversation at all. However, he handed her the cakes.
"All that I have to say," she replied, "is that one can hardly believe that a man who, though sixty years of age, goes barefooted winter and summer, and always wears chains of two pounds' weight, and never accepts the offers made to him to live a quiet, comfortable life--it is difficult to believe that such a man should act thus out of laziness." Pausing a moment, she added with a sigh: "As to predictions, je suis payee pour y croire, I told you, I think, that Grisha prophesied the very day and hour of poor Papa's death?"
"Oh, what HAVE you gone and done?" said Papa, laughing and putting his hand to his cheek (whenever he did this I used to look for something particularly comical from him). "Why did you call my attention to his feet? I looked at them, and now can eat nothing more."
Luncheon was over now, and Lubotshka and Katenka were winking at us, fidgeting about in their chairs, and showing great restlessness. The winking, of course, signified, "Why don't you ask whether we too may go to the hunt?" I nudged Woloda, and Woloda nudged me back, until at last I took heart of grace, and began (at first shyly, but gradually with more assurance) to ask if it would matter much if the girls too were allowed to enjoy the sport. Thereupon a consultation was held among the elder folks, and eventually leave was granted--Mamma, to make things still more delightful, saying that she would come too,
 
一个五十来岁的人走进屋里来，他脸色苍白，长脸盘，一脸大麻子，留着长长的白发和几绺稀疏的红胡子。他身材非常高大，进门时不但要低下头，连整个身子都得弯下来。他穿着一件破布杉，这布衫既象农民的长襟外衣，又象神甫的白袍，手里拿着一根大拐杖。进屋时，他用拐杖拚命敲了一下地板，扬着眉毛，嘴列得特别大，发出非常可怕、非常不自然的哈哈大笑声。他瞎了一只眼睛，那只眼睛的白瞳仁不住地乱转，给他那本来就很丑陋的面孔增添了更加让人讨厌的神气。
“啊哈，捉住了！”他喊道，小步跑到沃洛佳跟前，抱住他的头，仔细察看他的头顶，随后带着十分严肃的神色放开沃洛佳，走到桌子跟前，向漆布下面吹气，在漆布上面画十字。“噢，可怜啊！噢，痛苦啊！……小宝贝们啊……就要飞走了。”他用一种颤巍巍的悲泣声音说着，感伤地望着沃洛佳，并且用袖口去擦当真掉下来的眼泪。
他的嗓音粗浊沙哑，动作慌里慌张，语无伦次（他永远不用代词），但是发的重音却那么动听，焦黄的丑脸上有时露出非常坦率的悲哀神色。听他讲话，不能不使人产生一种又是惋惜、又是恐惧、又是悲伤的复杂心情。
这就是那个苦行者，巡礼者格里沙。
他是什么来历？他的父母是谁？是什么迫使他选择了他过的这种流浪生活？谁也不了解这一点。我只知道，他从十五岁起，就成了尽人皆知的苦行者、无论冬复，他都光着脚行走，朝拜寺院，把小圣像赠给他喜爱的人，说些费解的话。有的人认为这些话是预言。从来没有人见过他是另外一种情形。有时他到我外祖母家去。有人说他是富家的不幸子弟，是个心地纯洁的人、又有人说他不过是个庄稼人，是个懒汉。
那个严守时刻、令人望眼欲穿的福加终于出现了，我们于是下楼去。格里沙呜咽着，继续讲一些语无伦次的话，他跟在我们后面，用拐杖敲打着楼梯的阶梯。爸爸和妈妈挽着胳臂在客厅里踱来踱去，低声交谈着什么。玛丽雅•伊凡诺芙娜规规矩矩坐在紧挨着沙发、按照直角形对称摆着的一把安乐椅上，用严厉但却沉着的声音教训坐在她身边的姑娘们。卡尔•伊凡内奇一走进房间，她瞅了他一眼，马上就扭过身去。她脸上露出一种可以这样解释的表情： “我没有注意您，卡尔•伊凡内奇。”从姑娘们的眼色中可以看出，她们急着要告诉我们一件十分重要的消息；但是离开自己的座位跑到我们跟前，这是米米的规矩所不允许的。我们得先走到她跟前，说一声：“Bonjour，Mimi！ ① ”立正行个礼，然后才能开始谈话。
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①“Bonjour，Mimi！”：法语“您好，米米！”
这个米米是个多么令人讨厌的女人啊！当着她的面什么都不能讲，她认为一切都不成体统。另外，她还喋喋不休地要我们“Parlez dons francais ① ””，可是那时，我们好象要故意惹她生气似的，偏想说俄语。要不就是在吃饭的时候，某样菜合你的胃口，希望没有人来干涉你的时候，她一定会说：“Mangez donc avec dupain ② ”或是“Comment ce que vous tenez votre fourchette？ ③ ”你会这样想，“她和我们有什么相干呀？让她管教她的姑娘们去好了。有卡尔•伊凡内奇管我们。”在厌恶某些人方面，我和他完全有同感。
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①parlez dons francais：法语“说法文”。
②Mangezdonc avec du Pain：法语“就着面包吃吧。”
③“comment ce gue vous tenez votre fourchette？”：法语“你这是怎么拿叉子的？”
“去央求一下妈妈，让他们带我们去打猎吧。”大人们领头到饭厅去的时候，卡简卡拉住我的短外套，小声说。
“好，我们试试吧。”
格里沙在饭厅里吃饭，不过在另一张小桌上；他眼睛抬不抬，紧盯着碟子，有时叹一口气，扮个吓人的鬼脸，并且好象自言自语似地说：“可怜！……飞走了，鸽子要飞上天了……啊，坟上有一块石头！……以及诸如此类的话。
妈妈从早晨起就心绪不宁；格里沙的来临、他的言语和行动，显然使她更加心烦意乱。
“噢，对啦，我还忘记求你一件事。”她把一盘汤递给父亲时说。“什么事？”
“请你叫人把你那群凶狗锁起来吧。你瞧，格里沙进院子的时候，它们险些儿把这个可怜的人咬伤了。象这样，它们也可能向孩子们扑过去。”
格里沙听人谈到自己，就扭过身朝着大饭桌，指指自己身上被撕破的衣襟，嘴里一边咀嚼，一边都囔说：
“想把我咬死……上帝不允许。纵狗伤人是有罪的！大大的罪过！不要打，当家的 ① ，为什么要打啊！上帝会饶恕的……世道不同了。”
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①当家的：他对所有的男人都一律这样称呼。--作者原住。
“他说些什么？”爸爸问，很严历地瞪着眼看他。“我一点也不懂。”
“但是我懂，”妈妈回答说，“他对我讲，有一个猎人故意纵狗咬他，所以他说，‘想把我咬死，但是上帝不允许，’他求你不要为这件事处罚那个猎人。”
“啊！原来如此！”爸爸说。“他怎么知道我要处罚那个猎人呢？你要知道，我一向不大喜欢这样的先生们，”他用法语继续说，“不过，这位我觉得特别讨厌，想必……”
“噢，不要说这话，亲爱的！”妈妈好象吃惊似的，打断了爸爸的话头。“你怎么知道呢？”
“我似乎有机会研究这一类人，他们之中来拜访你的很多，全都一模一样。说来说去总是那么一套……”
显然，在这一点上母亲抱着完全不同的看法，不过她不愿意争论。
“请递给我一个油炸包子，”她说。“怎么样，今天的油炸包子好吃吗？”
“不，我很生气，”爸爸接着说，他拿起一个油炸包子，但是离得那么远，妈妈根本够不着它。“不，当我看见有头脑、有教养的人落到骗局的时候，我很生气。”
说着，他用叉子敲敲桌子。
“我请你递给我一个油炸包子，”她又说了一遍，伸出手去。
“把这帮人关到警察局去，可算做了好事啦！”爸爸接着说，把手缩回来。“这帮家伙带来的唯一好处，就是使一些女人本来就很脆弱的神经更乱。”他笑着补充说，看到妈妈很不喜欢这场谈话，就把油炸包子递给了她。
“在这方面，我只想对你说明这样一点：一个六十岁的人，无论冬夏都光着脚走路，衣服下面总带着两普特重的铁链，再三再四拒绝人家给他的供给膳宿的舒适生活，我们很难相信这种人只是为了懒惰才采取这一切行动。至于说到预言，“她沉默了一会儿，叹了口气又说，“je suis payee pour y croire； ① 我好象告诉过你，连我父亲将在一天，哪个时辰逝世，基留沙都向他预言了。”
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①je suis payee pour Y crae：法语“我是吃了苦头才相信的。”
“噢，你要拿我怎么样啊？”爸爸说，笑着把靠米米那边的那只手捂到嘴上。（他这样做的时候，我总是紧张地听着，等着听一些笑话。）“你为什么对我提到他的脚呢？我看了一眼，现在什么都吃不下了。”
午饭快要吃完了。柳博奇卡和卡简卡直向我使眼色，在椅子上扭来扭去，总之，她们显得非常不安。这种眼色是说：“你们怎么不请求他们带我们去打猎呀？”我用胳臂肘推了推沃洛佳。沃洛佳推了推我，他终于鼓起勇气，起先声音还是畏怯的，随后就相当坚决而响亮地解释说，今天我们就要走了，因此很想带着姑娘们一道坐敞篷马车去打猎。大人们讨论了一下，这个问题就依着我们的心意解决了，更令人高兴的是，妈妈说她自己也要跟我们去。
Chapter 6 Preparations For The Chase
During dessert Jakoff had been sent for, and orders given him to have ready the carriage, the hounds, and the saddle-horses--every detail being minutely specified, and every horse called by its own particular name. As Woloda's usual mount was lame, Papa ordered a "hunter" to be saddled for him; which term, "hunter" so horrified Mamma's ears, that she imagined it to be some kind of an animal which would at once run away and bring about Woloda's death. Consequently, in spite of all Papa's and Woloda's assurances (the latter glibly affirming that it was nothing, and that he liked his horse to go fast), poor Mamma continued to exclaim that her pleasure would be quite spoilt for her.
When luncheon was over, the grown-ups had coffee in the study, while we younger ones ran into the garden and went chattering along the undulating paths with their carpet of yellow leaves. We talked about Woloda's riding a hunter and said what a shame it was that Lubotshka, could not run as fast as Katenka, and what fun it would be if we could see Grisha's chains, and so forth; but of the impending separation we said not a word. Our chatter was interrupted by the sound of the carriage driving up, with a village urchin perched on each of its springs. Behind the carriage rode the huntsmen with the hounds, and they, again, were followed by the groom Ignat on the steed intended for Woloda, with my old horse trotting alongside. After running to the garden fence to get a sight of all these interesting objects, and indulging in a chorus of whistling and hallooing, we rushed upstairs to dress--our one aim being to make ourselves look as like the huntsmen as possible. The obvious way to do this was to tuck one's breeches inside one's boots. We lost no time over it all, for we were in a hurry to run to the entrance steps again there to feast our eyes upon the horses and hounds, and to have a chat with the huntsmen. The day was exceedingly warm while, though clouds of fantastic shape had been gathering on the horizon since morning and driving before a light breeze across the sun, it was clear that, for all their menacing blackness, they did not really intend to form a thunderstorm and spoil our last day's pleasure. Moreover, towards afternoon some of them broke, grew pale and elongated, and sank to the horizon again, while others of them changed to the likeness of white transparent fish-scales. In the east, over Maslovska, a single lurid mass was louring, but Karl Ivanitch (who always seemed to know the ways of the heavens) said that the weather would still continue to be fair and dry.
In spite of his advanced years, it was in quite a sprightly manner that Foka came out to the entrance steps. to give the order "Drive up." In fact, as he planted his legs firmly apart and took up his station between the lowest step and the spot where the coachman was to halt, his mien was that of a man who knew his duties and had no need to be reminded of them by anybody. Presently the ladies, also came out, and after a little discussions as to seats and the safety of the girls (all of which seemed to me wholly superfluous), they settled themselves in the vehicle, opened their parasols, and started. As the carriage was, driving away, Mamma pointed to the hunter and asked nervously "Is
that the horse intended for Vladimir Petrovitch?" On the groom answering in the affirmative, she raised her hands in horror and turned her head away. As for myself, I was burning with impatience. Clambering on to the back of my steed (I was just tall enough to see between its ears), I proceeded to perform evolutions in the courtyard.
"Mind you don't ride over the hounds, sir," said one of the huntsmen,
"Hold your tongue, It is not the first time I have been one of the party." I retorted with dignity.
Although Woloda had plenty of pluck, he was not altogether free from apprehensions as he sat on the hunter. Indeed, he more than once asked as he patted it, "Is he quiet?" He looked very well on horseback--almost a grown-up young man, and held himself so upright in the saddle that I envied him since my shadow seemed to show that I could not compare with him in looks.
Presently Papa's footsteps sounded on the flagstones, the whip collected the hounds, and the huntsmen mounted their steeds. Papa's horse came up in charge of a groom, the hounds of his particular leash sprang up from their picturesque attitudes to fawn upon him, and Milka, in a collar studded with beads, came bounding joyfully from behind his heels to greet and sport with the other dogs. Finally, as soon as Papa had mounted we rode away.
 
上甜食的时候，打发人把雅柯夫叫来，并且发出了有关车辆、狗群和乘骑的指示。指示非常详尽，连每匹马的名字都点出来了。沃洛佳的马瘸了；爸爸吩咐给他备上一匹猎马。“猎马”这个词妈妈听起来很不人耳：她以为猎马一定类似烈性的野兽，准会狂奔一阵，把沃洛佳摔死。任凭爸爸和沃洛佳怎么劝慰，沃洛佳怀着令人惊异的勇气说，这没人什么，他最喜欢马奔驰，可怜的妈妈还是一个劲儿说，那样一来，整个郊游的时间她都会心烦意乱。
午饭吃完了；大人们到书房里去喝咖啡，我们便跑到花园里，踏得落满黄叶的小径沙沙作响；谈着话。我们谈沃洛佳骑猎马的事，谈柳博奇卡跑得没有卡简卡快很丢脸，并且说要是看看格里沙的铁链会多么有趣，等等；但是关于我们就要分手的事，却只字未提。我们的谈话被驶近的马车声打断了，在那辆马车上每个装有弹簧的座位上都坐着一个小农奴。马车后面是猎手们，他们带着狗，骑着马；猎手们后面是车夫伊格纳特，骑着准备让沃洛佳骑的那匹猎马，牵着我的那匹老马。一开始我们都向篱笆旁边跑过去，从篱笆眼里可以看到这一切有趣的东西。随后，我们尖叫着跳着，跑上楼去换衣眼，尽量打扮得象猎人模样。最主要的办法是把裤子塞到靴子里。我们马上这样动手做起来。我们急着做完，好跑到门口去欣赏狗和马，跟猎手们交谈一下。
那天天气很热，从大清早起，就有洁白的、变幻无常的阴云飘在天边；后来，微风把它们吹得愈来愈近，有时甚至遮住了太阳。不过，尽管阴云密布，愈来愈浓，显然也不会形成暴风雨，使我们最后一次扫兴。傍晚时分，阴云开始消散：有的颜色变淡了，形状拖长了，向天边飘去；有的就在头顶上，变成透明的鳞片；只有一大片乌云停留在东方。卡尔•伊凡内奇一向懂得乌云的动向他说这块乌云会向马斯洛夫卡飘去，决不会下雨，一定是个好天气。
福加虽然上了年纪，却十分灵活；十分迅速地跑下楼。喊道：“赶过来！”于是，他叉开腿稳稳地站在大门口，也就是在车夫要把马车停下的地点和门槛的中间，并且摆出一副姿态，表示无须人家提醒他的职责。太太小姐们下来了，略略讨论了一下谁坐在哪边，抓住什么（虽然，我觉得，根本用不着抓住什么）之后，她们就坐上去，撑开阳伞，车就走动了。马车开动的时候，妈妈指着“猎马”，用颤巍巍的声音问车夫；
“这是给弗拉基米尔•彼得罗维奇备好的那匹马吗？”
车夫回答说是，这时候，她摆摆手，扭过身去。我简直忍耐不住了，就跨上马。把身子往前一伏，在院子里表演了好几手马术。
“请您不要踩着狗。”有个猎人对我说。
“你放心，我不是头一回呀！”我自豪地回答。
沃洛佳骑上“猎马”，尽管他性格坚强，也不免有些胆怯。他抚摩着马，问了好几次。
“它老实吗？”
他骑马的姿势很好看，就象大人似的。他那穿着紧身裤的大腿骑在马鞍上是那么健美，使我都嫉妒起来。特别是因为，从我的影子看来，我的姿势比他差远了。
现在可以听到爸爸下楼梯的脚步声。管追猎狗的人把四处奔跑的猎狗赶拢来，带着狼狗的猎人们把自己的狼狗唤到跟前，骑上马。马僮把一匹马牵到台阶边；爸爸的那一群猎狗本来都卧在台阶前面，摆出各种美妙的资态，这时一齐向他扑过来。米尔卡戴着珠项圈，铃挡叮当地响着，跟在爸爸身后快活地跑出来。它出来的时候，总要同猎狗打招呼：同这一些玩玩，和那一些嗅嗅鼻子或者吼一声；在另外一些身上捉捉跳蚤。
爸爸骑上马，我们就出发了。
Chapter 7 The Hunt
AT the head of the cavalcade rode Turka, on a hog-backed roan. On his head he wore a shaggy cap, while, with a magnificent horn slung across his shoulders and a knife at his belt, he looked so cruel and inexorable that one would have thought he was going to engage in bloody strife with his fellow men rather than to hunt a small animal. Around the hind legs of his horse the hounds gambolled like a cluster of checkered, restless balls. If one of them wished to stop, it was only with the greatest difficulty that it could do so, since not only had its leash-fellow also to be induced to halt, but at once one of the huntsmen would wheel round, crack his whip, and shout to the delinquent,
"Back to the pack, there!"
Arrived at a gate, Papa told us and the huntsmen to continue our way along the road, and then rode off across a cornfield. The harvest was at its height. On the further side of a large, shining, yellow stretch of cornland lay a high purple belt of forest which always figured in my eyes as a distant, mysterious region behind which either the world ended or an uninhabited waste began. This expanse of corn-land was dotted with swathes and reapers, while along the lanes where the sickle had passed could be seen the backs of women as they stooped among the tall, thick grain or lifted armfuls of corn and rested them against the shocks. In one corner a woman was bending over a cradle, and the whole stubble was studded with sheaves and cornflowers. In another direction shirt-sleeved men were standing on waggons, shaking the soil from the stalks of sheaves, and stacking them for carrying. As soon as the foreman (dressed in a blouse and high boots, and carrying a tally-stick) caught sight of Papa, he hastened to take off his lamb's-wool cap and, wiping his red head, told the women to get up. Papa's chestnut horse went trotting along with a prancing gait as it tossed its head and swished its tail to and fro to drive away the gadflies and countless other insects which tormented its flanks, while his two greyhounds--their tails curved like sickles--went springing gracefully over the stubble. Milka was always first, but every now and then she would halt with a shake of her head to await the whipper-in. The chatter of the peasants; the rumbling of horses and waggons; the joyous cries of quails; the hum of insects as they hung suspended in the motionless air; the smell of the soil and grain and steam from our horses; the thousand different lights and shadows which the burning sun cast upon the yellowish- white cornland; the purple forest in the distance; the white gossamer threads which were floating in the air or resting on the soil-all these things I observed and heard and felt to the core.
Arrived at the Kalinovo wood, we found the carriage awaiting us there, with, beside it, a one-horse waggonette driven by the butler--a waggonette in which were a tea-urn, some apparatus for making ices, and many other attractive boxes and bundles, all packed in straw! There was no mistaking these signs, for they meant that we were going to have tea, fruit, and ices in the open air. This afforded us intense delight, since to drink tea in a wood and on the grass and where none else had ever drunk tea before seemed to us a treat beyond expressing.
When Turka arrived at the little clearing where the carriage was halted he took Papa's detailed instructions as to how we were to divide ourselves and where each of us was to go (though, as a matter of fact, he never acted according to such instructions, but always followed his own devices). Then he unleashed the hounds, fastened the leashes to his saddle, whistled to the pack, and disappeared among the young birch trees the liberated hounds jumping about him in high delight, wagging their tails, and sniffing and gambolling with one another as they dispersed themselves in different directions.
"Has anyone a pocket-handkerchief to spare?" asked Papa. I took mine from my pocket and offered it to him.
"Very well, Fasten it to this greyhound here."
"Gizana?" I asked, with the air of a connoisseur.
"Yes. Then run him along the road with you. When you come to a little clearing in the wood stop and look about you, and don't come back to me without a hare."
Accordingly I tied my handkerchief round Gizana's soft neck, and set off running at full speed towards the appointed spot, Papa laughing as he shouted after me, "Hurry up, hurry up or you'll be late! "
Every now and then Gizana kept stopping, pricking up his ears, and listening to the hallooing of the beaters. Whenever he did this I was not strong enough to move him, and could do no more than shout, "Come on, come on!" Presently he set off so fast that I could not restrain him, and I encountered more than one fall before we reached our destination. Selecting there a level, shady spot near the roots of a great oak-tree, I lay down on the turf, made Gizana crouch beside me, and waited. As usual, my imagination far outstripped reality. I fancied that I was pursuing at least my third hare when, as a matter of fact, the first hound was only just giving tongue. Presently, however, Turka's voice began to sound through the wood in louder and more excited tones, the baying of a hound came nearer and nearer, and then another, and then a third, and then a fourth, deep throat joined in the rising and falling cadences of a chorus, until the whole had united their voices in one continuous, tumultuous burst of melody. As the Russian proverb expresses it, "The forest had found a tongue, and the hounds were burning as with fire."
My excitement was so great that I nearly swooned where I stood. My lips parted themselves as though smiling, the perspiration poured from me in streams, and, in spite of the tickling sensation caused by the drops as they trickled over my chin, I never thought of wiping them away. I felt that a crisis was approaching. Yet the tension was too unnatural to last. Soon the hounds came tearing along the edge of the wood, and then--behold, they were racing away from me again, and of hares there was not a sign to be seen! I looked in every direction and Gizana did the same--pulling at his leash at first and whining. Then he lay down again by my side, rested his muzzle on my knees, and resigned himself to disappointment. Among the naked roots of the oak-tree under which I was sitting. I could see countless ants swarming over the parched grey earth and winding among the acorns, withered oak-leaves, dry twigs, russet moss, and slender, scanty blades of grass. In serried files they kept pressing forward on the level track they had made for themselves--some carrying burdens, some not. I took a piece of twig and barred their way. Instantly it was curious to see how they made light of the obstacle. Some got past it by creeping underneath, and some by climbing over it. A few, however, there were (especially those weighted with loads) who were nonplussed what to do. They either halted and searched for a way round, or returned whence they had come, or climbed the adjacent herbage, with the evident intention of reaching my hand and going up the sleeve of my jacket. From this interesting spectacle my attention was distracted by the yellow wings of a butterfly which was fluttering alluringly before me. Yet I had scarcely noticed it before it flew away to a little distance and, circling over some half-faded blossoms of white clover, settled on one of them. Whether it was the sun's warmth that delighted it, or whether it was busy sucking nectar from the flower, at all events it seemed thoroughly comfortable. It scarcely moved its wings at all, and pressed itself down into the clover until I could hardly see its body. I sat with my chin on my hands and watched it with intense interest.
Suddenly Gizana sprang up and gave me such a violent jerk that I nearly rolled over. I looked round. At the edge of the wood a hare had just come into view, with one ear bent down and the other one sharply pricked, The blood rushed to my head, and I forgot everything else as I shouted, slipped the dog, and rushed towards the spot. Yet all was in vain. The hare stopped, made a rush, and was lost to view.
How confused I felt when at that moment Turka stepped from the undergrowth (he had been following the hounds as they ran along the edges of the wood)! He had seen my mistake (which had consisted in my not biding my time), and now threw me a contemptuous look as he said, "Ah, master!" And you should have heard the tone in which he said it! It would have been a relief to me if he had then and there suspended me to his saddle instead of the hare. For a while I could only stand miserably where I was, without attempting to recall the dog, and ejaculate as I slapped my knees, "Good heavens! What a fool I was!" I could hear the hounds retreating into the distance, and baying along the further side of the wood as they pursued the hare, while Turka rallied them with blasts on his gorgeous horn: yet I did not stir.
 
绰号叫土耳其人的那个猎人，头上戴着毛茸茸的帽子，肩上背着大号角，腰带里插着刀子，骑在一匹钩鼻子的、青灰色的马背上，走在大家前面。看了这个人的阴沉凶狠的外貌，会以为他是去决一死战，而不是去打猎。各种各样的猎狗汇成一支骚动的队伍，跟在他那匹马的后腿周围奔驰着。看到不幸掉队的狗会遭到怎样的命运，心里真觉得可怜。它必须费九牛二虎之力拖住自己的伴侣，而当它达到这个目的时，后面一个骑马的管猎狗的人一定会用短柄长鞭抽打它，大一声“归队！”我们出大门时，爸爸吩咐猎人和我们走大路，他自己却向裸麦田里走去。
正是秋收大忙季节。一望无际的、金光闪闪的田野只有一面同呈蓝色的高高的森林接壤，当时在我看来，那片森林是个极其遥远的神秘所在，它后面不是天涯海角，就是荒无人烟的国度。整个田野上净是麦垛和农民。在割了麦子的麦地的茂密高大的裸麦中间，可以看见一个割麦女人弯着的脊背，她抓住麦秆时麦穗的摆动，一个妇人俯在荫凉里的摇篮上，还有散布在长满矢车菊的割完麦子的麦地上的一束束裸麦。在另外一边，农民们只穿着衬衣，站在大车上装麦捆，弄得龟裂的田地上尘土飞扬。村长穿着靴子，肩上披着厚呢上衣，手里拿着记数的筹码，他远远地看见爸爸摘下毡帽，用毛巾擦擦他那长着红头发的脑袋和胡子，并且对妇女们吆喝。爸爸骑的那匹小小的赤骝马，迈着轻快嬉戏的步子走着，有时把头俯在胸前，牵扯着缰绳，用蓬松的尾巴驱拂着贪婪地粘在它身上的牛虹和苍蝇。两条狼狗紧张地把尾巴弯成镰刀形，高高地抬起脚，跟在马蹄后面，从高高的麦茬上优美地跳过去。米尔卡跑在前面，昂着头，等待着野味。农民们的谈话一，马蹄践踏声，车轮的辚辚声，鹌鹑快活的啼鸣声，始终在空中成群飞绕的昆虫的嗡嗡声，艾草、麦秸和马汗的气味，炽烈的阳光在淡黄色麦茬上，在远处深蓝色的森林上，在淡紫色的云彩上照射出万紫千红、或明或暗的色调，以及那飘在空中、或者伸展在麦茬上的白蜘蛛网，这一切我都看见、听见和感觉到。
我们骑马到达卡里诺伏树林的时候，发现马车已经到达，而且出乎意料之外，还有一辆单马车，车上坐着厨师。干草下面露出一个茶炊、一只冰激凌桶，还有一些吸引人的包裹和盒子。绝对错不了：这是要在野外吃茶点，还有冰激凌和水果。一看见单马车，我们就喜欢得大叫起来，因为在树林里的草地上，总之，在大家都认为没有人吃过茶点的地方来吃茶点，是一件莫大的乐事。
土耳其人骑着马走近猎场，停下来，留心听爸爸的详细指示。象怎样看齐、往哪儿冲等等，不过，他从来也不考虑这些指示，而是照自己的意思去做。他解开那群狗的皮带，不慌不忙地绑在他的马鞍上，又上了马，吹着口哨消失在小白桦树后面。解开皮带的那群狗，先摇摇尾巴表示喜悦，又抖抖身子振作了一番，然后就闻一闻，摇摇尾巴，迈着小步向四面八方跑去。
“你有手帕吗？”爸爸问。
我从口袋里掏出一块给他看。
“好吧，就用这块手帕绑住那条灰狗……”
“热兰吗？”我带着内行的神情问道。
“是的，顺着大路跑。到了林中那块空地，就停下来。注意，打不到免不要回来见我。”
我把手帕系到热兰毛茸茸的脖颈上，赶快朝指定的地点冲去。爸爸笑了，在我背后喊道：
“快点，快点，不然就迟了！”
热兰不住地停下，竖起耳朵，倾听猎人们的吆喝声。我没有力气把它拖走。于是喊起来：“去抓来！去抓来！”热兰因此拚命往前冲，我好容易才把它勒住。在到达指定的地点以前，我摔了好几个跟头，我在一棵大橡树根下选了一个荫凉、平坦的地方，躺在青草上，让热兰卧在我身边，开始等待。在这种情形下总是如此，我的想像力远远脱离了现实。当树林里传来第一只猎狗的吠声时，我已经在想像我纵大去追第三只兔子了。土耳其人的声音在树林里显得更加响亮，更有生气。一只猎狗尖叫了一声，接着便愈来愈经常地听到他的声音。另一个低一些的声音加进去，接着第三个、第四个……这些声音有时沉寂下去，有时争先恐后地响了起来。声音逐渐加强，连续不断，最后汇合成一片响亮的、喧闹的嘈杂声。猎场上充满了声音，那群猎狗齐声狂吠着。
听见这个，我发愣了，动也不动了。我的眼睛紧盯着林边，茫然若失地微笑着；我的脸上汗如雨下，虽然汗珠顺着下巴流下来的时候怪痒痒的，但是我并没有去擦。我觉得再也没有比这个关头更紧要的了。如果这种紧张情况长久延续下去，那就太要命了。那群猎狗时而在林边狂吠，时而渐渐地离开我；并没有兔子。我开始四下张望。热兰也这样：最初它拚命挣扎，失声吠叫，随后在我身边卧下，把头枕到我的膝盖上，安静下来。
我坐在橡树下面，在这棵橡树光秃秃的树根周围，灰蒙蒙的干土地上，在凋落的橡树叶、橡实、披着藓衣的干树枝、黄绿色的藓苦和有些地方冒出嫩芽的青草上，爬满了蚂蚁。这些蚂蚁一只跟着一只，在自己开辟的平坦小路上奔忙，有的拖着重载，有的空着身子。我拾起一根干树枝，挡住它们的去路。真好看，有的不怕危险，从树枝下面爬过去；也有的由上面爬过去；可是有些，特别是那些拖着东西的，十分慌乱，不知怎么办才好：它们停下来，找寻出路，要不就退回去，或者顺着干树枝爬到我的手上，看来，它们打算爬进我的短上衣的袖筒里去。一只非常迷人的黄蝴蝶在我面前翩翩飞舞，把我的心思从这种有趣的观察上吸引开。我刚一注意它，它就飞得离我有两三步远，在一朵差不多凋谢了的野生白苜蓿花上绕了几圈，就落在上面。我不知道它是被太阳晒暖了呢，还是因为吸吮了苜蓿花计，只见它显出非常满意的样子，有时鼓动一下小翅膀，紧偎着那朵花，最后一动也不动了。我把头枕在两只手上，津津有味地观察着它。
热兰突然嗥叫起来，猛地往前一冲，使我险些儿摔了个跟头。我回头一看，林边有一只兔子在跳跃，它的一只耳朵耷拉着，另一只耳朵竖起来。热血涌上我的头，在这一瞬间我什么都忘掉了。我拚命地叫起来，松了狗，一纵身跑去。但是，我刚这么做，就后悔了，因为兔子蹲下把身子一纵，我就再也看不见它了。“
但是，当土耳其人紧跟着那群一齐向林边奔来的猎狗从树丛后出现的时候，我是多么羞愧啊！他看见了我的过失（就是我没有控制住自己），轻蔑地瞪了我一眼，只说了一声：“唉，少爷！”但是，你应该听听他说这话的腔调！要是他把我象只兔子一样吊在马鞍上，我还比这样轻松些呢。
我十分绝望地在那儿站了好久，没有叫狗，只是一个劲儿拍打着大腿念叨：
“天啊，我干了什么蠢事啊！”
我听见那群猎狗跑远了，林边发出一阵咔嗒声，捉住了一只兔子，土耳其人用他的大号角召唤猎狗，我却依旧动也不动……
Chapter 8 We Play Games
THE hunt was over, a cloth had been spread in the shade of some young birch-trees, and the whole party was disposed around it. The butler, Gabriel, had stamped down the surrounding grass, wiped the plates in readiness, and unpacked from a basket a quantity of plums and peaches wrapped in leaves.
Through the green branches of the young birch-trees the sun glittered and threw little glancing balls of light upon the pattern of my napkin, my legs, and the bald moist head of Gabriel. A soft breeze played in the leaves of the trees above us, and, breathing softly upon my hair and heated face, refreshed me beyond measure, When we had finished the fruit and ices, nothing remained to be done around the empty cloth, so, despite the oblique, scorching rays of the sun, we rose and proceeded to play.
"Well, what shall it be?" said Lubotshka, blinking in the sunlight and skipping about the grass, "Suppose we play Robinson?"
"No, that's a tiresome game," objected Woloda, stretching himself lazily on the turf and gnawing some leaves, "Always Robinson! If you want to play at something, play at building a summerhouse."
Woloda was giving himself tremendous airs. Probably he was proud of having ridden the hunter, and so pretended to be very tired. Perhaps, also, he had too much hard-headedness and too little imagination fully to enjoy the game of Robinson. It was a game which consisted of performing various scenes from The Swiss Family Robinson, a book which we had recently been reading.
"Well, but be a good boy. Why not try and please us this time?" the girls answered. "You may be Charles or Ernest or the father, whichever you like best," added Katenka as she tried to raise him from the ground by pulling at his sleeve.
"No, I'm not going to; it's a tiresome game," said Woloda again, though smiling as if secretly pleased.
"It would be better to sit at home than not to play at ANYTHING," murmured Lubotshka, with tears in her eyes. She was a great weeper.
"Well, go on, then. Only, DON'T cry; I can't stand that sort of thing."
Woloda's condescension did not please us much. On the contrary, his lazy, tired expression took away all the fun of the game. When we sat on the ground and imagined that we were sitting in a boat and either fishing or rowing with all our might, Woloda persisted in sitting with folded hands or in anything but a fisherman's posture. I made a remark about it, but he replied that, whether we moved our hands or not, we should neither gain nor lose ground--certainly not advance at all, and I was forced to agree with him. Again, when I pretended to go out hunting, and, with a stick over my shoulder, set off into the wood, Woloda only lay down on his back with his hands under his head, and said that he supposed it was all the same whether he went or not. Such behaviour and speeches cooled our ardour for the game and were very disagreeable--the more so since it was impossible not to confess to oneself that Woloda was right, I myself knew that it was not only impossible to kill birds with a stick, but to shoot at all with such a weapon. Still, it was the game, and if we were once to begin reasoning thus, it would become equally impossible for us to go for drives on chairs. I think that even Woloda himself cannot at that moment have forgotten how, in the long winter evenings, we had been used to cover an arm-chair with a shawl and make a carriage of it--one of us being the coachman, another one the footman, the two girls the passengers, and three other chairs the trio of horses abreast. With what ceremony we used to set out, and with what adventures we used to meet on the way! How gaily and quickly those long winter evenings used to pass! If we were always to judge from reality, games would be nonsense; but if games were nonsense, what else would there be left to do?
 
打猎结束了。在小白桦树的阴影里铺了一块地毯，大家围成一圈坐到毯子上。厨师加夫列洛踩平了他周围多汁的青草，正在擦盘子，从盒子里拿出用叶片包着的李子和桃子。阳光透过小白桦树的青枝绿叶射进来，圆圆的光点在地毯的图案上、我的腿上、甚至在加夫列洛的汗漉漉的秃顶上颤动着。一阵微风吹过树叶，吹过我的头发和出汗的脸，我感到非常凉爽。
我们坐在地毯上，吃完自己的那份冰激凌和水果，就没有事可做了，尽管夕阳还很灼人，我们仍然站起来去做游戏。
“喂，玩什么呢？”柳博奇卡在草地上蹦来蹦去，阳光照得她眯缝着眼睛。“我们来玩鲁滨逊的游戏吧！”
“不……没意思，”活洛佳说，他懒洋洋地倒在草地上，嚼着草叶”“老玩鲁滨逊！如果一定要玩，我们顶好还是搭小亭子。”
活洛佳分明是在摆架子：想必是因为他是骑猪马来的，心里很得意，于是装出非常疲倦的样子。也可能是，他太理智，太缺乏想像力了，因而完全不欣赏鲁滨逊这种游戏。这种游戏是表演《Robinson Suisse》 ① 中的场面，不久以前我们看过这本书。
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①《Robinson Suisse》：法语《瑞士鲁滨逊》。该书作者是瑞士作家鲁道夫•威廉。
“哦，请来玩吧……你为什么不愿意让我们得到这种乐趣呢？”姑娘们老缠着他。“你可以扮演查理 ① ，或者爱尔涅斯特，或者父亲，随你挑，好不好？”卡简卡说，拽住他的衣袖，想把他从地上拉起来。
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①查理：和以下的爱尔涅斯特、父亲、都是书中的人物。
“我真不愿意玩，太无聊了！”沃洛佳说，伸伸懒腰，同时自负地笑了笑。
“如果谁也不想玩，那还不如待在家里好呢，”柳博奇卡眼泪汪汪地都囔说。
她是一个爱哭的孩子。
“哦，来玩吧，请你千万不要哭，我可受不了！”
沃洛佳那份屈尊迁就的态度并没有给我们什么乐趣；相反，他那副懒洋洋的、不耐烦的神气把游戏的全部魅力都破坏了。当我们坐到地上，想像我们是坐着船去钓鱼，拚命开始划桨的时候，沃洛佳却袖子坐在一边，神气根本不象个渔夫。我向他指出了这一点。但是他回答说，我们不论动不动胳臂，都不会因此有所得失，所正我们是走不远的。我不能不同意他这种看法。当我扛着一根棍子向树林走去想像自己是在去打猎的时候，沃洛佳却仰面朝天躺下来，把手枕到脑袋下边，对我说，就算是他也去了。这样的言语行动使我们大为扫兴，让人极不痛决。特别是，我们心里又不能不承认沃洛佳的举动是合情合理的。
我自己也知道，不但用棍子打不死鸟雀，而且根本不能射击。这不过是游戏。如果那么想，就不能坐在椅子上当骑马了；而沃洛佳，我想，他自己也记得，在漫长的冬夜里，我们曾把头巾盖在安乐椅上，拿它当四轮马车。一个人坐在前面当车夫，另一个人在后面当仆人，姑娘们坐在中间，三把椅子当作三匹马，于是我们就出发了。一路上经历了多少好玩的事情啊！那些冬夜过得多么愉快，多么迅速呀！……若是认真，就没有游戏了。要是没有游戏，那还有什么呢？……
Chapter 9 A First Essay In Love
PRETENDING to gather some "American fruit" from a tree, Lubotshka suddenly plucked a leaf upon which was a huge caterpillar, and throwing the insect with horror to the ground, lifted her hands and sprang away as though afraid it would spit at her. The game stopped, and we crowded our heads together as we stooped to look at the curiosity.
I peeped over Katenka's shoulder as she was trying to lift the caterpillar by placing another leaf in its way. I had observed before that the girls had a way of shrugging their shoulders whenever they were trying to put a loose garment straight on their bare necks, as well as that Mimi always grew angry on witnessing this manoeuvre and declared it to be a chambermaid's trick. As Katenka bent over the caterpillar she made that very movement, while at the same instant the breeze lifted the fichu on her white neck. Her shoulder was close to my lips, I looked at it and kissed it, She did not turn round, but Woloda remarked without raising his head, "What spooniness!" I felt the tears rising to my eyes, and could not take my gaze from Katenka. I had long been used to her fair, fresh face, and had always been fond of her, but now I looked at her more closely, and felt more fond of her, than I had ever done or felt before.
When we returned to the grown-ups, Papa informed us, to our great joy, that, at Mamma's entreaties, our departure was to be postponed until the following morning. We rode home beside the carriage--Woloda and I galloping near it, and vieing with one another in our exhibition of horsemanship and daring. My shadow looked longer now than it had done before, and from that I judged that I had grown into a fine rider. Yet my complacency was soon marred by an unfortunate occurrence, Desiring to outdo Woloda before the audience in the carriage, I dropped a little behind.
Then with whip and spur I urged my steed forward, and at the
same time assumed a natural, graceful attitude, with the intention
of whooting past the carriage on the side on which Katenka was
seated. My only doubt was whether to halloo or not as I did so.
In the event, my infernal horse stopped so abruptly when just
level with the carriage horses that I was pitched forward on
to its neck and cut a very sorry figure!
 
柳博奇卡装做从树上摘一种美国水果的样子，她揪下的一片树叶上有一条大毛毛虫，她恐怖地把它扔到地上，举起双手跳到一旁，好象害怕里边会窜出什么东西似的。游戏停止了。我们都伏在地上，头凑在一起，观察这个稀奇的东西。
我从卡简卡的肩头望过去，她把一片叶子放在毛毛虫爬行的路上，想把它拾起来。
我注意到，好多姑娘都有耸肩膀的习惯，想用这种动作调整一下滑下肩头的开领衣裳。我还记得，米米看见这种动作总是很生气，说：“C’est un geste de f emme chambre ① ”。卡简卡伏在毛毛虫上面时，就做了这种动作，同时一阵清风吹起她因在脖颈上的小围巾。她做这个动作的时候，她的肩膀离我的嘴唇只有两指远。我不再降毛毛虫了，看着看着，我就使劲吻了吻卡简卡的肩头。她没有回过头来，但是我觉察到，她的勃颈和耳朵都红了。沃洛佳头也没抬，轻蔑地说：
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①c’est un gesre de femmede chambre：法语“这是使女的姿势。”
“这算什么柔情呀？”
我的眼里涌出了泪水。
我目不转晴地望着卡简卡。我早就看惯了她那金发下面鲜艳的小脸蛋，总是很喜欢它；现在我愈是仔细地观察，我就愈喜欢它了。我们回到大人们那里的时候，使我们大为高兴的是，爸爸宣布说，由于妈妈的请求，我们推迟到明天早晨动身。
我们骑着马跟着马车一起回去。沃洛佳和我想在骑术和胆量上比个高低，在马车旁边大显身手。我的影子比以前长了些，根据影子来判断，我想像我具有十分漂亮的骑手的姿态；但是我体验到的这种自我欣赏的心情，不久就被下面桩事故破坏了。我为了要迷住坐在马车里的所有的人，就落后一点，然后鞭打脚踢，策马前进，摆出从容而优雅的姿势，想要象一阵旋风似的从卡简卡坐的马车那边冲过去。只是我不知道，究竟是不声不响地疾驰过去好呢，还是大喊一声的好。但是，我那匹可恶的马在和拉着车的马齐头并进的时候，任凭我怎么努力，还是停了下来，而且停得那么突然，使我从马鞍上滑到马颈上，险些儿摔下去。
Chapter 10 The Sort Of Man My Father Was
Papa was a gentleman of the last century, with all the chivalrous character, self-reliance, and gallantry of the youth of that time. Upon the men of the present day he looked with a contempt arising partly from inborn pride and partly from a secret feeling of vexation that, in this age of ours, he could no longer enjoy the influence and success which had been his in his youth. His two principal failings were gambling and gallantry, and he had won or lost, in the course of his career, several millions of roubles.
Tall and of imposing figure, he walked with a curiously quick, mincing gait, as well as had a habit of hitching one of his shoulders. His eyes were small and perpetually twinkling, his nose large and aquiline, his lips irregular and rather oddly (though pleasantly) compressed, his articulation slightly defective and lisping, and his head quite bald. Such was my father's exterior from the days of my earliest recollection. It was an exterior which not only brought him success and made him a man a bonnes fortunes but one which pleased people of all ranks and stations. Especially did it please those whom he desired to please.
At all junctures he knew how to take the lead, for, though not deriving from the highest circles of society, he had always mixed with them, and knew how to win their respect. He possessed in the highest degree that measure of pride and self-confidence which, without giving offence, maintains a man in the opinion of the world. He had much originality, as well as the ability to use it in such a way that it benefited him as much as actual worldly position or fortune could have done. Nothing in the universe could surprise him, and though not of eminent attainments in life, he seemed born to have acquired them. He understood so perfectly how to make both himself and others forget and keep at a distance the seamy side of life, with all its petty troubles and vicissitudes, that it was impossible not to envy him. He was a connoisseur in everything which could give ease and pleasure, as well as knew how to make use of such knowledge. Likewise he prided himself on the brilliant connections which he had formed through my mother's family or through friends of his youth, and was secretly jealous of any one of a higher rank than himself--any one, that is to say, of a rank higher than a retired lieutenant of the Guards. Moreover, like all ex-officers, he refused to dress himself in the prevailing fashion, though he attired himself both originally and artistically--his invariable wear being light, loose-fitting suits, very fine shirts, and large collars and cuffs. Everything seemed to suit his upright figure and quiet, assured air. He was sensitive to the pitch of sentimentality, and, when reading a pathetic passage, his voice would begin to tremble and the tears to come into his eyes, until he had to lay the book aside. Likewise he was fond of music, and could accompany himself on the piano as he sang the love songs of his friend A- or gipsy songs or themes from operas; but he had no love for serious music, and would frankly flout received opinion by declaring that, whereas Beethoven's sonatas wearied him and sent him to sleep, his ideal of beauty was "Do not wake me, youth" as Semenoff sang it, or "Not one" as the gipsy Taninsha rendered that ditty. His nature was essentially one of those which follow public opinion concerning what is good, and consider only that good which the public declares to be so. [It may be noted that the author has said earlier in the chapter that his father possessed "much originality."] God only knows whether he had any moral convictions. His life was so full of amusement that probably he never had time to form any, and was too successful ever to feel the lack of them.
As he grew to old age he looked at things always from a fixed point of view, and cultivated fixed rules--but only so long as that point or those rules coincided with expediency, The mode of life which offered some passing degree of interest--that, in his opinion, was the right one and the only one that men ought to affect. He had great fluency of argument; and this, I think, increased the adaptability of his morals and enabled him to speak of one and the same act, now as good, and now, with abuse, as abominable.
 
他是上一世纪的人，具有那个世纪年青人所共有的那种难以捉摸的侠义精神、富于进取心、过于自信、待人宽厚和耽于酒色的性格。他看不起我们这个世纪的人，这一方面是由于他天生的骄傲所造成，一方面是因为他恼怒在我们这个时代得不到象在他那个时代的权势和成就。他生平的两大嗜好是打牌和女人；他一生中赢过几百万卢布，同数不清的、各个阶层的女人发生过关系。
他身材魁伟，体格端正；走路时迈着奇特的小步子，爱耸一边的肩膀，小眼睛里永远含着笑意，大鹰钩鼻子，线条不端正的嘴唇仿佛不好意思地、却很惬意地抿着，发音有缺陷，有点咬舌，头顶秃得很厉害，我所能追忆得起的我父亲的外表，就是这些。凭着这副仪表，他不仅能够出名，而且还是个 a bonnes fortunes的 ① ，不论哪个阶层、哪种地位的人，都毫无例外地喜欢他，特别是那些他想取悦的人。
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①a bonnes for-tuneS：法语“走运的。”
不论他同什么人交往，他都知道怎样占上风。他从来不是最上层社会里的人，但是他却经常同这个阶层的人物交往，而且博得他们的尊敬。他极其骄傲和自信，他既不得罪别人，又在舆论中提高自己的声誉。他富于独创性．但并非总是这样，他用自己的创见作为换取社会名誉地位或者金银财富的手段。在他看来，世界上什么都不足为奇：不论他的地位多么显赫，他都觉得那是命中注定。他非常善于避而不提和摆脱人所共知的、充满小小的烦恼和悲伤的生活的阴暗面，使人不能不羡慕他。对于能够获得舒适和享受的一切事情，他是行家，而且很会享用它们。他最得意的是同达官要人来往，这部分是通过我母亲的亲戚，部分是通过他童年时代的伴侣，他心里对这些人很愤慨，因为他们的官衔远远超过他，而他始终是一个退伍的近卫军中尉。他，象所有的退伍军人一样，不知道怎样穿着入时；不过，他的打扮却很独特而优美。他总穿着十分宽大轻便的衣服，翻领卷袖的漂亮衬衫……不论他穿什么，都很适合他那魁梧的身材、强壮的体格、秃头和沉着而自信的动作。他多情善感，甚至好掉眼泪。时常，在朗诵的时候，当他读到动人的地方，他的声音就颤抖起来，眼泪汪汪，于是就难受地把书放下。他爱好音乐，自己弹钢琴伴奏，唱他的朋友A某所作的浪漫曲、茨冈曲、或者歌剧中的一些曲子；但是他不喜欢古典音乐，不顾公论，公然说贝多芬的奏鸣曲使他昏昏欲睡，兴味索然，他认为再也没有比谢苗诺娃所唱的《不要唤醒我的青春》 ① ，或者茨阿女郎塔纽莎唱的《并不孤独》更美妙的东西。他生就那么一种性格，认为好东西必须群众公认。群众公认为是好的，他才认为好。天知道他是否有什么道德信念？他一生中享尽了福，以致没有时间形成自己的信念，又加上，他在生活中那么走运，使他认为信念是不必要的。
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①谢苗诺娃（1787-1876）：俄罗斯歌剧女歌唱家。
上了年纪，他对事物形成了固定的看法和一定之规，但是一切都建立在实用的基础上。凡是给予他幸福或乐趣的行动和生活方式，他就认为是好的，而且认为，人人都应该经常依此行事。他说话娓娓动听，而这种本领，在我看来，给他的规则增添了灵活性；他能够把同一个行为说成是最可爱的戏游行为或者说成是卑鄙无耻的行径。
Chapter 11 In The Drawing-Room And The Study
Twilight had set in when we reached home. Mamma sat down to the piano, and we to a table, there to paint and draw in colours and pencil. Though I had only one cake of colour, and it was blue, I determined to draw a picture of the hunt. In exceedingly vivid fashion I painted a blue boy on a blue horse, and--but here I stopped, for I was uncertain whether it was possible also to paint a blue HARE. I ran to the study to consult Papa, and as he was busy reading he never lifted his eyes from his book when I asked, "Can there be blue hares?" but at once replied, "There can, my boy, there can." Returning to the table I painted in my blue hare, but subsequently thought it better to change it into a blue bush. Yet the blue bush did not wholly please me, so I changed it into a tree, and then into a rick, until, the whole paper having now become one blur of blue, I tore it angrily in pieces, and went off to meditate in the large arm-chair.
Mamma was playing Field's second concerto. Field, it may be said, had been her master. As I dozed, the music brought up before my imagination a kind of luminosity, with transparent dream-shapes. Next she played the "Sonate Pathetique" of Beethoven, and I at once felt heavy, depressed, and apprehensive. Mamma often played those two pieces, and therefore I well recollect the feelings they awakened in me. Those feelings were a reminiscence--of what? Somehow I seemed to remember something which had never been.
Opposite to me lay the study door, and presently I saw Jakoff enter it, accompanied by several long-bearded men in kaftans. Then the door shut again.
"Now they are going to begin some business or other," I thought. I believed the affairs transacted in that study to be the most important ones on earth. This opinion was confirmed by the fact that people only approached the door of that room on tiptoe and speaking in whispers. Presently Papa's resonant voice sounded within, and I also scented cigar smoke--always a very attractive thing to me. Next, as I dozed, I suddenly heard a creaking of boots that I knew, and, sure enough, saw Karl Ivanitch go on tiptoe, and with a depressed, but resolute, expression on his face and a written document in his hand, to the study door and knock softly. It opened, and then shut again behind him.
"I hope nothing is going to happen," I mused. "Karl Ivanitch is offended, and might be capable of anything--" and again I dozed off.
Nevertheless something DID happen. An hour later I was disturbed by the same creaking of boots, and saw Karl come out, and disappear up the stairs, wiping away a few tears from his cheeks with his pocket handkerchief as he went and muttering something between his teeth. Papa came out behind him and turned aside into the drawing-room.
"Do you know what I have just decided to do?" he asked gaily as he laid a hand upon Mamma's shoulder.
"What, my love?"
"To take Karl Ivanitch with the children. There will be room enough for him in the carriage. They are used to him, and he seems greatly attached to them. Seven hundred roubles a year cannot make much difference to us, and the poor devil is not at all a bad sort of a fellow." I could not understand why Papa should speak of him so disrespectfully.
"I am delighted," said Mamma, "and as much for the children's sake as his own. He is a worthy old man."
"I wish you could have seen how moved he was when I told him that he might look upon the 500 roubles as a present! But the most amusing thing of all is this bill which he has just handed me. It is worth seeing," and with a smile Papa gave Mamma a paper inscribed in Karl's handwriting. "Is it not capital? " he concluded.
The contents of the paper were as follows: [The joke of this bill consists chiefly in its being written in very bad Russian, with continual mistakes as to plural and singular, prepositions and so forth.]
"Two book for the children--70 copeck. Coloured paper, gold frames, and a pop-guns, blockheads [This word has a double meaning in Russian.] for cutting out several box for presents--6 roubles, 55 copecks. Several book and a bows, presents for the childrens--8 roubles, 16 copecks. A gold watches promised to me by Peter Alexandrovitch out of Moscow, in the years 18-- for 140 roubles. Consequently Karl Mayer have to receive 139 rouble, 79 copecks, beside his wage."
If people were to judge only by this bill (in which Karl Ivanitch demanded repayment of all the money he had spent on presents, as well as the value of a present promised to himself), they would take him to have been a callous, avaricious egotist yet they would be wrong.
It appears that he had entered the study with the paper in his hand and a set speech in his head, for the purpose of declaiming eloquently to Papa on the subject of the wrongs which he believed himself to have suffered in our house, but that, as soon as ever he began to speak in the vibratory voice and with the expressive intonations which he used in dictating to us, his eloquence wrought upon himself more than upon Papa; with the result that, when he came to the point where he had to say, "however sad it will be for me to part with the children," he lost his self- command utterly, his articulation became choked, and he was obliged to draw his coloured pocket-handkerchief from his pocket.
"Yes, Peter Alexandrovitch," he said, weeping (this formed no part of the prepared speech), "I am grown so used to the children that I cannot think what I should do without them. I would rather serve you without salary than not at all," and with one hand he wiped his eyes, while with the other he presented the bill.
Although I am convinced that at that moment Karl Ivanitch was speaking with absolute sincerity (for I know how good his heart was), I confess that never to this day have I been able quite to reconcile his words with the bill.
"Well, if the idea of leaving us grieves you, you may be sure that the idea of dismissing you grieves me equally," said Papa, tapping him on the shoulder. Then, after a pause, he added, "But I have changed my mind, and you shall not leave us."
Just before supper Grisha entered the room. Ever since he had entered the house that day he had never ceased to sigh and weep--a portent, according to those who believed in his prophetic powers, that misfortune was impending for the household. He had now come to take leave of us, for to-morrow (so he said) he must be moving on. I nudged Woloda, and we moved towards the door.
"What is the matter?" he said.
"This--that if we want to see Grisha's chains we must go upstairs at once to the men-servants' rooms. Grisha is to sleep in the second one, so we can sit in the store-room and see everything."
"All right. Wait here, and I'll tell the girls."
The girls came at once, and we ascended the stairs, though the question as to which of us should first enter the store-room gave us some little trouble. Then we cowered down and waited.
 
我们到家的时候，已经暮色苍茫了。妈妈在钢琴旁边坐下，而我们这群孩子则拿来纸、笔和颜料，坐在圆桌旁边画图画。我只有蓝颜料，虽然如此，可是我还是想描绘打猎的情景。我栩栩如生的画了个骑着蓝马、穿着蓝衣眼的男孩和一群蓝狗，我拿不准是不是可以画一只蓝兔子，于是跑到爸爸的书房里去商量。爸爸正在看书。他听我问“是不是有蓝兔子？”连头也没抬，就回答说：“有，亲爱的，有。”我回到圆桌旁边，画了只蓝兔子，以后又改画成一棵树，又把村改画成一个大干草垛，把大干草垛改画成云彩，结果整张纸被蓝颜料抹得一塌糊涂，我很不高兴地把画撕碎了，就坐在高背安乐椅上打起瞌睡来。
妈妈在弹她的教师菲尔德的《第二协奏曲》 ① 我在打瞌睡，在我的想像中出现了一些轻快、明朗、晶莹的回忆。她开始弹奏贝多芬的《悲怆奏鸣曲》，于是我回忆起一件令人感伤。压抑的凄惨事情。妈妈常常弹这两支曲子，因此我清清楚楚地记得它们在我心中唤起的情绪。这种情绪很象回忆；但是什么回忆呢？仿佛在追忆一种从未有过的事情。
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①菲尔德（178-1837）：英国著名作曲家。
我对面是书房的门，我看见雅柯夫和另外一些穿着长衣、留着大胡子的人走进去。那扇门随手就关上了。“哦，活动开始了！”我想道。在我看来，世界上再也不可能有比书房里所做的那些事情更为重要的了。由于大家一走到书房门前通常总是悄悄地讲话，踮起脚走路，更加强了我的这种想法；同时从那里传出爸爸响亮的声音和雪茄烟味，不知怎地，雪茄烟味总是非常吸引我。蒙胧中，仆役室里发出的一阵十分熟悉的靴子的咯吱声突然把我惊醒。卡尔•伊凡内手里拿着一些字条，踮着脚，但是却带着忧郁而坚决的神色走到门口，轻轻敲了敲门。让他进去以后，门又砰的关上了。
“但愿别发生什么不幸的事，”我心里想。“卡尔•伊凡内奇很生气：他豁出去了……”
我又蒙胧欲睡了。
不过，并没有发生什么不幸的事情。一点钟以后，我又被那双靴子的咯吱声惊醒。卡尔•伊凡内奇用手帕擦着眼泪（我看见他脸上有泪痕）出了书房，嘴里嘟嚷着什么，走上楼去。爸爸随着他出来，走进客厅。
“你知道，我刚才做了什么决定？”他声调快活地说，把一只手搭在妈妈肩上。
“什么，亲爱的？”
“我把卡尔•伊凡内奇和孩子们一起带走。马车里有地方。他们和他处惯了，他好象真的舍不得他们；一年七百卢布也算不了什么， et puis au fond e’est un tresbon diable ① ”。
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①et puis au fond c’est un tres bon diable：法语“再说，他实在是个很好的家伙。”（diable的意思是“鬼”，因此作者误认为骂卡尔。）
我一点也不了解爸爸为什么妄骂卡尔•伊凡内奇。
“为了孩子们，为了他，我很高兴。”妈妈说，“他是个好老头。”
“你要是看到，当我要把这五百卢布当作礼物收下来的时候，他深受感动的情形就好了……但是我觉得最有意思的是他拿给我的这张帐单。这真该瞧一瞧，”他笑了笑补充说，一边把卡尔•伊凡内奇亲笔这写的字条递给她。“简直妙极了！”
这就是字条的内容：
送给孩了们两根钓鱼竿 七十戈比
彩色纸镶金边、浆糊和木块，糊盒子作礼物用 六卢布五十五弋比
书和弹弓送给孩子们的礼物 八卢布十六弋比
送给尼古拉一条裤子 四卢布
彼得•亚历山德雷奇答应在一八XX年从莫斯科带来一只金表 一百四十
卢布
扣去薪水，卡尔•毛叶尔应得的总额 一百五十九卢布七十九戈比
任何人看到这张字条——上面开列着卡尔•伊凡内奇要求偿还他送礼花费的全部金钱，甚至偿还答应送给他的礼物——就认为卡尔•伊凡内奇只不过是一个冷酷无情、贪得无厌、自私自利的家伙，那就错了。
他手里拿着字条，打好发言的腹稿，一走进书房，就打算口若悬河地对我爸爸说明他在我们家里受到的一切委屈；但是当他开始用他平常让我们默写时那种动人的声音和感伤的腔调讲话时，他的口才在他自己身上发生了最强烈的作用；因此，他一说到“离开孩子们将会使我很伤心”时，他就语无伦次了，他的声音颤．抖起来，他不得不从口袋里掏出那块方格手帕。
“是的，彼得•亚历山德雷奇，”他噙着眼泪说（在他准备好的腹稿上根本没有这些话），“我和孩子们相处惯了，没有他们，我简直不知道怎么办才好。”他又补充说：“我宁愿不拿薪水替您效劳。”然后，他一只手抹眼泪，另一只手把帐单递过去。
卡尔•伊凡内奇当时说的是真心话，这一点我敢肯定，因为我知道他的心肠很好；但是，这张帐单和他的话怎么协调起来，在我始终是个迷。
“如果您觉得伤心，那末和您分开我就更觉得伤心了，”爸爸说，拍拍他的肩膀。“我现在改变主意了。”
晚饭前不久，格里沙走进屋来，从他一走进我们家，他就不断地唉声叹气，哭哭啼啼，按照那些相信他的预言本事的人看来，这是我们家要遭到某种不幸的预兆。他开始了告别了，说明天早晨就要赶路。我对沃洛佳使了个眼色，就走出屋去。
“干什么？”
“如果你愿意看看格里沙的铁链，我们就立刻到搂上男仆们的房间里去。格里沙住第二个房间，我们可以舒舒服服地坐在贮藏室里，一切都看得到。”
“妙极了！你在这儿等着，我去叫姑娘们。”
姑娘们跑来了，于是我们上楼去。我们争论了一番，才决定谁先走进那间阴暗的贮藏室，我们坐下来等待着。
Chapter 12 Grisha
WE all felt a little uneasy in the thick darkness, so we pressed close to one another and said nothing. Before long Grisha arrived with his soft tread, carrying in one hand his staff and in the other a tallow candle set in a brass candlestick. We scarcely ventured to breathe.
"Our Lord Jesus Christ! Holy Mother of God! Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!" he kept repeating, with the different intonations and abbreviations which gradually become peculiar to persons who are accustomed to pronounce the words with great frequency.
Still praying, he placed his staff in a corner and looked at the bed; after which he began to undress. Unfastening his old black girdle, he slowly divested himself of his torn nankeen kaftan, and deposited it carefully on the back of a chair. His face had now lost its usual disquietude and idiocy. On the contrary, it had in it something restful, thoughtful, and even grand, while all his movements were deliberate and intelligent.
Next, he lay down quietly in his shirt on the bed, made the sign of the cross towards every side of him, and adjusted his chains beneath his shirt--an operation which, as we could see from his face, occasioned him considerable pain. Then he sat up again, looked gravely at his ragged shirt, and rising and taking the candle, lifted the latter towards the shrine where the images of the saints stood. That done, he made the sign of the cross again, and turned the candle upside down, when it went out with a hissing noise.
Through the window (which overlooked the wood) the moon (nearly full) was shining in such a way that one side of the tall white figure of the idiot stood out in the pale, silvery moonlight, while the other side was lost in the dark shadow which covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. In the courtyard the watchman was tapping at intervals upon his brass alarm plate. For a while Grisha stood silently before the images and, with his large hands pressed to his breast and his head bent forward, gave occasional sighs. Then with difficulty he knelt down and began to pray.
At first he repeated some well-known prayers, and only accented a word here and there. Next, he repeated thee same prayers, but louder and with increased accentuation. Lastly he repeated them again and with even greater emphasis, as well as with an evident effort to pronounce them in the old Slavonic Church dialect. Though disconnected, his prayers were very touching. He prayed for all his benefactors (so he called every one who had received him hospitably), with, among them, Mamma and ourselves. Next he prayed for himself, and besought God to forgive him his sins, at the same time repeating, "God forgive also my enemies!" Then, moaning with the effort, he rose from his knees--only to fall to the floor again and repeat his phrases afresh. At last he regained his feet, despite the weight of the chains, which rattled loudly whenever they struck the floor.
Woloda pinched me rudely in the leg, but I took no notice of that (except that I involuntarily touched the place with my hand), as I observed with a feeling of childish astonishment, pity, and respect the words and gestures of Grisha. Instead of the laughter and amusement which I had expected on entering the store-room, I felt my heart beating and overcome.
Grisha continued for some time in this state of religious ecstasy as he improvised prayers and repeated again and yet again, "Lord,
have mercy upon me!" Each time that he said, "Pardon me, Lord, and teach me to do what Thou wouldst have done," he pronounced the words with added earnestness and emphasis, as though he expected an immediate answer to his petition, and then fell to sobbing and moaning once more. Finally, he went down on his knees again, folded his arms upon his breast, and remained silent. I ventured to put my head round the door (holding my breath as I did so), but Grisha still made no movement except for the heavy sighs which heaved his breast. In the moonlight I could see a tear glistening on the white patch of his blind eye.
"Yes, Thy will be done!" he exclaimed suddenly, with an expression which I cannot describe, as, prostrating himself with his forehead on the floor, he fell to sobbing like a child.
Much sand has run out since then, many recollections of the past have faded from my memory or become blurred in indistinct visions, and poor Grisha himself has long since reached the end of his pilgrimage; but the impression which he produced upon me, and the feelings which he aroused in my breast, will never leave my mind. O truly Christian Grisha, your faith was so strong that you could feel the actual presence of God; your love so great that the words fell of themselves from your lips. You had no reason to prove them, for you did so with your earnest praises of His majesty as you fell to the ground speechless and in tears!
Nevertheless the sense of awe with which I had listened to Grisha could not last for ever. I had now satisfied my curiosity, and, being cramped with sitting in one position so long, desired to join in the tittering and fun which I could hear going on in the dark store-room behind me. Some one took my hand and whispered,
"Whose hand is this?" Despite the darkness, I knew by the touch and the low voice in my ear that it was Katenka. I took her by the arm, but she withdrew it, and, in doing so, pushed a cane chair which was standing near. Grisha lifted his head looked quietly about him, and, muttering a prayer, rose and made the sign of the cross towards each of the four corners of the room.
 
在黑暗中，我们都觉得很害怕；我们彼此紧紧地挤在一起，一句话也不说。格里沙几乎紧跟着我们悄悄地走了进来。他一只手拄着拐杖，另一只手拿着插在黄铜烛台上的脂油制的蜡烛。我们连气都不敢出。
“基督耶酥救世主！至圣的圣母！向圣父、圣子圣灵……”他喘着气，不住地念叨着说，用的是只有常常翻来覆去讲这些话的人才特有的各种各样的声调和略语。
他一边祷告，一边把拐杖在屋角放好，看了看床，就动手脱衣服。他解开破旧的黑腰带，慢条斯理地脱掉褴楼的黄色土布上衣，仔细折好，搭在椅背上。他的脸上现在已经没有平时那种慌张而愚蠢的神情了；相反的，他很镇静，若有所思，甚至显得很威严的样子。他的举动缓慢而稳重。
只剩下一件衬衣的时候，他慢吞吞的坐到床上，朝四面八方都画了十字，然后用力（这从他皱紧的眉头上可以看出来）整理了一下他的衬衣下的铁链。他静坐了一会儿，仔细查看了一下他那破了好几处的衬衣，随后他就站起来，祷告着把蜡烛举到圣龛那么高，龛里摆着几尊圣像，他对着圣像画了十字，就把蜡烛翻过来，让火花冲下，蜡烛爆了一下，就熄灭了。
将圆的月亮照进朝着树林的窗户。苦行者的长长的白色身影一边被皎洁的银辉照耀着，另一边形成阴影；这阴影同窗框的影子连成一片，投到地板上、墙壁上，一直达到天花板。守夜人在外边敲着铁板。
格里沙把两只大手交叉在胸口，低着头，不住地深深叹息着，默默地站在圣像前面，然后费力地跪下去，开始祈祷。
最初他轻轻地念着人所周知的祷文，只强调一下某些字句，随后他又反复背诵，但是更加响亮，更有精神。后来他开始用自己的话祷告，挖空心思地想用古斯拉夫语来表达自己的心清。他语无论次，但是很感动人。他为自己所有的施主（他这样称呼那些接待他的人）祈祷，其中也有我的母亲和我们；他也为他自己祈祷，请求上帝饶恕他的重大罪孽。他反复地说：“主啊，饶恕我的敌人们吧！”他累得呼哧呼哧地站起来，三番五次地老说那一套话，然后不顾铁链的重量，伏在地上又站起来，那铁链碰到地板，就发出刚硬刺耳的响声。
沃洛佳使劲掐了我的大腿一把，掐得我很疼；但是我连头都没有回，只用手揉了揉那个痛处，就带着孩子气的惊奇、怜悯和敬仰的心情，继续注意格里沙的一举一动和一言一语。
丝毫没有我走进贮藏室时期待的快乐和欢笑，我感到战栗和揪心。
格里沙还久久处在这种宗教狂热的状态中，即兴地编了些祈祷文。他时而一连串地重复好几遍。“主啊，慈悲慈悲吧！”但是每次都用新的语气和表情；时而说：“饶恕我吧，主啊，教导我怎么做……教导我怎么做，主啊！”说得好象他希望马上得到答复一样；有时只听见凄惨的痛哭声……他跪着稍微抬起身子，把双手交叉在胸口，一声不响了。
我悄悄地从门里探出头去，屏息静气。格里沙动也不动；他的胸膛里发出沉重的叹息声；月光照着他那只失明的眼睛，暗淡无光的瞳仁含着泪水。
“您的旨意会实现的！”他带着难以模拟的表情突然大叫一声，把额头俯在地上，象小孩一样呜咽起来。
从那时起，多少年华流逝了，多少往事的回忆对我失去了意义，化成了模糊的梦，就连巡礼者格里沙也早已完成了他的最后一次朝拜；但是，他给我的印象，他所引起的情绪，在我的脑海里却永远也不会消逝。
噢，伟大的基督徒格里沙！你的信心是那么坚定，使你感到了上帝的临近；你的爱是那么强烈，话语会自动地从你的嘴里流出来——你并不是用理智来检验它们……当你找不到言语来表达，倒在地上哭泣的时候，你献给至尊的又是多么崇高的颂辞……
我倾听格里沙的话时怀着的那种感动心清并未能持续多久；第一，因为我的好奇心得到了满足，其次，因为在一个地方坐得太久，我的腿麻了，而且很想参加到在我后面的漆黑的贮藏室里的全体的低语声和骚动中去。有人拉住我的手，耳语说：“这是谁的手？”贮藏室里一片漆黑，但是单凭接触和我耳边的私语声，我立刻分辨出这是卡简卡。
我完全无意识地握住她那从短袖下面裸露出来的臂肘，把嘴唇贴上去。这种举动大概使卡简卡大吃一惊，于是她把胳臂缩回去；她这一缩把摆在贮藏室里的一把破椅子碰倒了。格里沙抬起头来，慢慢地四下张望，一边念祈祷文，一边朝房间的各个角落画十字。我们耳语着，闹嚷嚷地跑出了贮藏室。
Chapter 13 Natalia Savishna
In days gone by there used to run about the seignorial courtyard of the country-house at Chabarovska a girl called Natashka. She always wore a cotton dress, went barefooted, and was rosy, plump, and gay. It was at the request and entreaties of her father, the clarionet player Savi, that my grandfather had "taken her upstairs"--that is to say, made her one of his wife's female servants. As chamber-maid, Natashka so distinguished herself by her zeal and amiable temper that when Mamma arrived as a baby and required a nurse Natashka was honoured with the charge of her. In this new office the girl earned still further praises and rewards for her activity, trustworthiness, and devotion to her young mistress. Soon, however, the powdered head and buckled shoes of the young and active footman Foka (who had frequent opportunities of courting her, since they were in the same service) captivated her unsophisticated, but loving, heart. At last she ventured to go and ask my grandfather if she might marry Foka, but her master took the request in bad part, flew into a passion, and punished poor Natashka by exiling her to a farm which he owned in a remote quarter of the Steppes. At length, when she had been gone six months and nobody could be found to replace her, she was recalled to her former duties. Returned, and with her dress in rags, she fell at Grandpapa's feet, and besought him to restore her his favour and kindness, and to forget the folly of which she had been guilty--folly which, she assured him, should never recur again. And she kept her word.
From that time forth she called herself, not Natashka, but Natalia Savishna, and took to wearing a cap, All the love in her heart was now bestowed upon her young charge. When Mamma had a governess appointed for her education, Natalia was awarded the keys as housekeeper, and henceforth had the linen and provisions under her care. These new duties she fulfilled with equal fidelity and zeal. She lived only for her master's advantage. Everything in which she could detect fraud, extravagance, or waste she endeavoured to remedy to the best of her power. When Mamma married and wished in some way to reward Natalia Savishna for her twenty years of care and labour, she sent for her and, voicing in the tenderest terms her attachment and love, presented her with a stamped charter of her (Natalia's) freedom, [It will be remembered that this was in the days of serfdom] telling her at the same time that, whether she continued to serve in the household or not, she should always receive an annual pension Of 300 roubles. Natalia listened in silence to this. Then, taking the document in her hands and regarding it with a frown, she muttered something between her teeth, and darted from the room, slamming the door behind her. Not understanding the reason for such strange conduct, Mamma followed her presently to her room, and found her sitting with streaming eyes on her trunk, crushing her pocket-handkerchief between her fingers, and looking mournfully at the remains of the document, which was lying torn to pieces on the floor.
"What is the matter, dear Natalia Savishna?" said Mamma, taking her hand.
"Nothing, ma'am," she replied; "only--only I must have displeased you somehow, since you wish to dismiss me from the house. Well, I will go."
She withdrew her hand and, with difficulty restraining her tears, rose to leave the room, but Mamma stopped her, and they wept a while in one another's arms.
Ever since I can remember anything I can remember Natalia Savishna and her love and tenderness; yet only now have I learnt to appreciate them at their full value. In early days it never occurred to me to think what a rare and wonderful being this old domestic was. Not only did she never talk, but she seemed never even to think, of herself. Her whole life was compounded of love and self-sacrifice. Yet so used was I to her affection and singleness of heart that I could not picture things otherwise. I never thought of thanking her, or of asking myself, "Is she also happy? Is she also contented?" Often on some pretext or another I would leave my lessons and run to her room, where, sitting down, I would begin to muse aloud as though she were not there. She was forever mending something, or tidying the shelves which lined her room, or marking linen, so that she took no heed of the nonsense which I talked--how that I meant to become a general, to marry a beautiful woman, to buy a chestnut horse, to, build myself a house of glass, to invite Karl Ivanitch's relatives to come and visit me from Saxony, and so forth; to all of which she would only reply, "Yes, my love, yes." Then, on my rising, and preparing to go, she would open a blue trunk which had pasted on the inside of its lid a coloured picture of a hussar which had once adorned a pomade bottle and a sketch made by Woloda, and take from it a fumigation pastille, which she would light and shake for my benefit, saying:
"These, dear, are the pastilles which your grandfather (now in Heaven) brought back from Otchakov after fighting against the Turks." Then she would add with a sigh: "But this is nearly the last one."
The trunks which filled her room seemed to contain almost everything in the world. Whenever anything was wanted, people said, "Oh, go and ask Natalia Savishna for it," and, sure enough, it was seldom that she did not produce the object required and say, "See what comes of taking care of everything!" Her trunks contained thousands of things which nobody in the house but herself would have thought of preserving.
Once I lost my temper with her. This was how it happened.
One day after luncheon I poured myself out a glass of kvass, and then dropped the decanter, and so stained the tablecloth.
"Go and call Natalia, that she may come and see what her darling has done," said Mamma.
Natalia arrived, and shook her head at me when she saw the damage I had done; but Mamma whispered something in her car, threw a look at myself, and then left the room.
I was just skipping away, in the sprightliest mood possible, when Natalia darted out upon me from behind the door with the tablecloth in her hand, and, catching hold of me, rubbed my face hard with the stained part of it, repeating, "Don't thou go and spoil tablecloths any more!"
I struggled hard, and roared with temper.
"What?" I said to myself as I fled to the drawing-room in a mist of tears, "To think that Natalia Savishna-just plain Natalia-should say 'THOU' to me and rub my face with a wet tablecloth as though I were a mere servant-boy! It is abominable!"
Seeing my fury, Natalia departed, while I continued to strut about and plan how to punish the bold woman for her offence. Yet not more than a few moments had passed when Natalia returned and, stealing to my side, began to comfort me,
"Hush, then, my love. Do not cry. Forgive me my rudeness. It was wrong of me. You WILL pardon me, my darling, will you not? There, there, that's a dear," and she took from her handkerchief a cornet of pink paper containing two little cakes and a grape, and offered it me with a trembling hand. I could not look the kind old woman in the face, but, turning aside, took the paper, while my tears flowed the faster--though from love and shame now, not from anger.
 
上一世纪中叶，在哈巴洛夫卡村的院落里，经常有一个穿粗布衣服，光着脚，但是快快活活的，红脸蛋的胖姑娘娜达什卡跑来跑去 ① 。由于她父亲，吹单簧管的萨瓦的功劳和请求，我的外祖父把她提拔上来，叫她给我外祖母当侍女。作为一个侍女，娜达什卡性情柔顺和勤快是出名的。当我母亲出生而需要一个保姆的时候，就由挪达什卡来担负这个职务。在这个新的岗位上，她以自己的工作、忠诚和对小女主人的爱护而博得了称赞和奖赏。不过，工作上同娜达丽雅经常来往的聪明伶俐的年青仆人福加，却以涂着发粉的头，用吊带的袜子迷惑住了她那颗粗野但是多情的心。她甚至鼓起勇气亲自去请求我外祖父准许她嫁给福加。外祖父把她的愿望看成忘恩负义。他勃然大怒，把可怜的娜达丽雅遣送到草原村庄的畜牧场上作为惩罚。但是过了六个月，因为谁也代替不了娜达丽雅，就又把她叫回来恢复原职。她穿着粗布衣服从流放中回来，走到外祖父跟前，跪在他脚下，请求他依旧宽待她，照顾她，忘掉曾经使她着魔的那种糊涂念头，她发誓决不故态复萌。而她也真的没有食言。
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①娜达什卡：娜达丽雅的爱称。
从那时起，娜达什卡就成了娜达丽雅•萨维什娜，并且戴上了包发帽 ① ；她把心中蕴藏的全部爱情都转移到她照料的小姐身上。
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①戴上了包发帽：表示身份高了。当时婢女都包头巾。
当一个女家庭教师在我母亲身边代替了她的位置时，就把贮藏室的钥匙交给了她，内衣“桌布之类和所有的食品全归她掌管。她用同样的勤勉和热情完成了这些新任务。她全心全意地照管主人的财产；处处都发现有浪费、损坏和盗窃行为，于是千方百计地来防止。
妈妈结婚时，为了答谢娜达丽雅（萨维什娜二十年的劳苦和忠诚，妈妈把她叫进自己的房间，大大地夸奖了她，向她表示了自己对她的满心感激和热爱，然后交给她一张印花纸，上面写着给娜达丽雅•萨维什娜的解放证，并且说，不论她是否继续在我们家当差，她每年总有三百卢布的养老金。娜达丽雅•萨维什娜一声不响的听完这一切，然后就拿起那张文件，恶狠狠地望了它一眼，从牙缝里都囔了几句什么，就跑出屋去，砰的一声把房门关上。妈妈不明白这种奇怪举动的来由，过了一会儿，走进娜达丽雅•萨维什娜的房间。只见她噙着眼泪坐在箱子上，用手指紧捏着手帕，目不转睛地瞅着那张散落在她面前地板上的、撕成碎片的解放证。
“你怎么啦，亲爱的娜达丽雅•萨维什娜？”妈妈拉住她的手问道。
“没有什么，亲爱的小姐，”她回答说，“想必是我有什么地方触怒了您，所以您要把我赶走……好吧，我就走。”
她抽回手去，几乎忍不住落下泪来，就要走出屋去。妈妈把她拦住，拥抱她，她们两个都放声大哭起来。
从我记事的时候起，我就记得娜达丽雅•萨维什娜，记得她的热情和爱抚；但是，直到现在我才懂得珍视这些，而在当时，我从来没有考虑过这位老妇人是个多么难得的可贵的人物。她不但从来不提自己，而且好象从来没有想到过自己；她一生都怀着慈爱和自我牺牲精神。我已经习惯了她对我们那种无私的、温存的爱，甚至想像不出会是另外一种样子。”我一点也不感激她，自己从来也没有思考过这样的问题：“她幸福吗？她满意吗？”
我时常借口有要紧的事逃学，到她的房间里去，坐下来，诉说自己的梦想，在她面前丝毫也不拘束。她总是忙碌着，不是织袜子，或是在她的房间里摆满的箱子里乱翻，就是登记衬衣、桌布之类，一面听我胡言乱语，象：“那末，等我当了将军我就娶一个绝色的美人儿，给自己买一匹赤骝马，盖一幢玻璃房子，写信到萨克森去，把卡尔•伊凡内奇的亲属召来”等等，她连连地说：“是的，我的宝贝，是的。”通常，当我站起来要走的时候，她就打开一只浅蓝色的箱子，我现在还记得箱盖里面贴着一张瞟骑兵的彩色像：一张从生发油瓶上揭下来的画，还有一张沃洛佳画的画，她从这口箱子里拿出一块香点上，挥一挥，说，
“这个，我的宝贝，还是奥恰科夫的香哩。还是你故去的外祖父，但愿他在天国安宁，去打土耳其人的时候，从那里带回来的。这是最后的一块了。”她叹了口气补充说。
她的房里摆满了箱子，简直是万宝囊。平时不管需要什么，人们总是说：“得找娜达丽雅•萨维什娜去要。”真的，她翻腾了一会儿，就会找到人家需要的东西，并且说：“幸亏我收藏起来了。”这些箱子里有成千上万件物品，这些东西，除了她，家里谁也不知道，谁也不关心。
有一次我生了她的气。事情是这样的。吃午饭的时候，我替自己倒了一杯克瓦斯 ① ，不小心碰倒玻璃杯，把克瓦斯泼到桌布上了。
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①克瓦斯：一种清凉饮料。由裸麦或面包屑酿成。
“把娜达丽雅•萨维什娜叫来，让她欣赏欣赏她的宝口干的好事吧！”妈妈说。
娜达丽雅•萨维什娜走进来，看见我洒的一摊水，就摇摇头；随后妈妈在她耳边嘀咕了一句什么，用手指对我威吓了一下，就走出屋去了。
午饭后，我兴高采烈、蹦蹦跳砾地到大厅里去，娜达丽雅•萨维什娜冷不防从门背后跳出来，一只手拿着桌布，一只手捉住我，尽管我拚命反抗，她还是用那块湿桌布揉擦我的脸，一边说：“别把桌布弄脏了！别把桌布弄脏了！”我感到非常委屈，气得号陶大哭起来。
“怎么！”我自言自语，在大厅里走来走去，哽咽得上气不接下气。“娜达丽雅•萨维什娜，不过是娜达丽雅罢了，居然对我称你，还用湿桌布打我的脸，好象我是个小奴才似的。不，这太可怕了！”
娜达丽雅•萨维什娜看见我伤心哭起来，就立刻跑开了，于是我继续走来走去，盘算着怎样报复那个没有礼貌的娜达丽雅对我的侮辱。
过了一会儿，娜达丽雅•萨维什娜回来了，畏畏缩缩地走到我跟前，开始安慰我说：
“得了，我的宝贝，别哭了……原谅我这个傻瓜……我做错了……不过，您原谅我吧，我的亲爱的……这是给您的……”
她从手帕下面掏出一个红纸卷，里面有两块糖和一个干无花果，用颤抖的手递给我。我没有勇气看那仁慈的老妇人的脸；我扭过身子，接了她的礼物。我的眼泪流得更多了，不过，这已经不是由于愤怒，而是由于爱和羞愧。
Chapter 14 The Parting
ON the day after the events described, the carriage and the luggage-cart drew up to the door at noon. Nicola, dressed for the journey, with his breeches tucked into his boots and an old overcoat belted tightly about him with a girdle, got into the cart and arranged cloaks and cushions on the seats. When he thought that they were piled high enough he sat down on them, but finding them still unsatisfactory, jumped up and arranged them once more.
"Nicola Dimitvitch, would you be so good as to take master's dressing-case with you? " said Papa's valet, suddenly standing up in the carriage, " It won't take up much room."
"You should have told me before, Michael Ivanitch," answered Nicola snappishly as he hurled a bundle with all his might to the floor of the cart. "Good gracious! Why, when my head is going round like a whirlpool, there you come along with your dressing- case!" and he lifted his cap to wipe away the drops of perspiration from his sunburnt brow.
The courtyard was full of bareheaded peasants in kaftans or simple shirts, women clad in the national dress and wearing striped handkerchiefs, and barefooted little ones--the latter holding their mothers' hands or crowding round the entrance- steps. All were chattering among themselves as they stared at the carriage. One of the postillions, an old man dressed in a winter cap and cloak, took hold of the pole of the carriage and tried it carefully, while the other postillion (a young man in a white blouse with pink gussets on the sleeves and a black lamb's-wool cap which he kept cocking first on one side and then on the other as he arranged his flaxen hair) laid his overcoat upon the box, slung the reins over it, and cracked his thonged whip as he looked now at his boots and now at the other drivers where they stood greasing the wheels of the cart--one driver lifting up each wheel in turn and the other driver applying the grease. Tired post-horses of various hues stood lashing away flies with their tails near the gate--some stamping their great hairy legs, blinking their eyes, and dozing, some leaning wearily against their neighbours, and others cropping the leaves and stalks of dark-green fern which grew near the entrance-steps. Some of the dogs were lying panting in the sun, while others were slinking under the vehicles to lick the grease from the wheels. The air was filled with a sort of dusty mist, and the horizon was lilac- grey in colour, though no clouds were to be seen, A strong wind from the south was raising volumes of dust from the roads and fields, shaking the poplars and birch-trees in the garden, and whirling their yellow leaves away. I myself was sitting at a window and waiting impatiently for these various preparations to come to an end.
As we sat together by the drawing-room table, to pass the last few moments en famille, it never occurred to me that a sad moment was impending. On the contrary, the most trivial thoughts were filling my brain. Which driver was going to drive the carriage and which the cart? Which of us would sit with Papa, and which with Karl Ivanitch? Why must I be kept forever muffled up in a scarf and padded boots?
"Am I so delicate? Am I likely to be frozen?" I thought to myself. "I wish it would all come to an end, and we could take our seats and start."
"To whom shall I give the list of the children's linen?" asked Natalia Savishna of Mamma as she entered the room with a paper in her hand and her eyes red with weeping.
"Give it to Nicola, and then return to say good-bye to them," replied Mamma. The old woman seemed about to say something more, but suddenly stopped short, covered her face with her handkerchief, and left the room. Something seemed to prick at my heart when I saw that gesture of hers, but impatience to be off soon drowned all other feeling, and I continued to listen indifferently to Papa and Mamma as they talked together. They were discussing subjects which evidently interested neither of them. What must be bought for the house? What would Princess Sophia or Madame Julie say? Would the roads be good?--and so forth.
Foka entered, and in the same tone and with the same air as though he were announcing luncheon said, "The carriages are ready." I saw Mamma tremble and turn pale at the announcement, just as though it were something unexpected.
Next, Foka was ordered to shut all the doors of the room. This amused me highly. As though we needed to be concealed from some one! When every one else was seated, Foka took the last remaining chair. Scarcely, however, had he done so when the door creaked and every one looked that way. Natalia Savishna entered hastily, and, without raising her eyes, sat own on the same chair as Foka. I can see them before me now-Foka's bald head and wrinkled, set face, and, beside him, a bent, kind figure in a cap from beneath which a few grey hairs were straggling. The pair settled themselves together on the chair, but neither of them looked comfortable.
I continued preoccupied and impatient. In fact, the ten minutes during which we sat there with closed doors seemed to me an hour. At last every one rose, made the sign of the cross, and began to say good-bye. Papa embraced Mamma, and kissed her again and again.
"But enough," he said presently. "We are not parting for ever."
"No, but it is-so-so sad! " replied Mamma, her voice trembling with emotion.
When I heard that faltering voice, and saw those quivering lips and tear-filled eyes, I forgot everything else in the world. I felt so ill and miserable that I would gladly have run away rather than bid her farewell. I felt, too, that when she was embracing Papa she was embracing us all. She clasped Woloda to her several times, and made the sign of the cross over him; after which I approached her, thinking that it was my turn. Nevertheless she took him again and again to her heart, and blessed him. Finally I caught hold of her, and, clinging to her, wept--wept, thinking of nothing in the world but my grief.
As we passed out to take our seats, other servants pressed round us in the hall to say good-bye. Yet their requests to shake hands with us, their resounding kisses on our shoulders, [The fashion in which inferiors salute their superiors in Russia.] and the odour of their greasy heads only excited in me a feeling akin to impatience with these tiresome people. The same feeling made me bestow nothing more than a very cross kiss upon Natalia's cap when she approached to take leave of me. It is strange that I should still retain a perfect recollection of these servants' faces, and be able to draw them with the most minute accuracy in my mind, while Mamma's face and attitude escape me entirely. It may be that it is because at that moment I had not the heart to look at her closely. I felt that if I did so our mutual grief would burst forth too unrestrainedly.
I was the first to jump into the carriage and to take one of the hinder seats. The high back of the carriage prevented me from actually seeing her, yet I knew by instinct that Mamma was still there.
"Shall I look at her again or not?" I said to myself. "Well, just for the last time," and I peeped out towards the entrance- steps. Exactly at that moment Mamma moved by the same impulse, came to the opposite side of the carriage, and called me by name. Rearing her voice behind me. I turned round, but so hastily that our heads knocked together. She gave a sad smile, and kissed me convulsively for the last time.
When we had driven away a few paces I determined to look at her once more. The wind was lifting the blue handkerchief from her head as, bent forward and her face buried in her hands, she moved slowly up the steps. Foka was supporting her. Papa said nothing as he sat beside me. I felt breathless with tears--felt a sensation in my throat as though I were going to choke, just as we came out on to the open road I saw a white handkerchief waving from the terrace. I waved mine in return, and the action of so doing calmed me a little. I still went on crying. but the thought that my tears were a proof of my affection helped to soothe and comfort me.
After a little while I began to recover, and to look with interest at objects which we passed and at the hind-quarters of the led horse which was trotting on my side. I watched how it would swish its tail, how it would lift one hoof after the other, how the driver's thong would fall upon its back, and how all its legs would then seem to jump together and the back-band, with the rings on it, to jump too--the whole covered with the horse's foam. Then I would look at the rolling stretches of ripe corn, at the dark ploughed fields where ploughs and peasants and horses with foals were working, at their footprints, and at the box of the carriage to see who was driving us; until, though my face was still wet with tears, my thoughts had strayed far from her with whom I had just parted--parted, perhaps, for ever. Yet ever and again something would recall her to my memory. I remembered too how, the evening before, I had found a mushroom under the birch- trees, how Lubotshka had quarrelled with Katenka as to whose it should be, and how they had both of them wept when taking leave of us. I felt sorry to be parted from them, and from Natalia Savishna, and from the birch-tree avenue, and from Foka. Yes, even the horrid Mimi I longed for. I longed for everything at home. And poor Mamma!--The tears rushed to my eyes again. Yet even this mood passed away before long.
 
我在上面所写的那些事发生的第二天上午十一点多钟，一辆装有弹簧的四轮马车和一辆小四轮马车停在大门口。尼古拉是上路的打扮，就是说，把裤腿塞到靴子里，把旧礼服用腰带紧紧地束起来。他站在四轮马车里，把外套和靠垫铺到座位上；他觉得太高，于是坐到靠垫上，不住地跳动着，把它们压下去。
“看在老天爷的份上，尼古拉•德米特里奇，把主人的小匣于放在您那边行不行？”爸爸的仆人喘吁吁地恳求着说，从装有弹簧的四轮马车里探出头来。“匣子很小……”
“您应该早些说，米海伊•伊凡内奇，”尼古拉很快地、气愤地回答说，然后用足力气把一个包裹丢在小四轮马车的车厢里。“说真的，我的脑袋本来就晕了，您偏偏又来上个小匣子！”他补充一句说，推了推帽子，擦掉被太阳晒黑的前额上的大汗珠。
家里的男仆都光着头，穿着常礼服、普通长衣，或者衬衣；妇女们穿着粗布衣服，头上包着条纹头巾，怀里抱着婴儿；还有赤脚的孩子们，都站在门口，望着马车，彼此交谈着。有二个车夫是个驼背的老头儿，戴着暖帽，穿着厚呢上衣，扶着马车的辕杆，摸弄着它，仔细打量着车轴。另外一个是漂亮的小伙子，穿着腋下有红布镶条的白衬衫，他搔着鬈曲的金发，一会儿把圆锥形的黑毡帽推到这只耳朵上，一会儿推到另一只耳朵上；把厚呢上衣放在驭台上，把缰绳也扔上去，他不时用他那编制的小鞭轻轻地抽打一下，一会儿望望自己的靴子，一会儿望望给小四轮马车涂油的车夫。有一个车夫使劲托着车子；另一个俯在车轮上，正仔细往车轴和车毂上涂油，为了不浪费留在刷子上的滑润油，甚至就把它涂在车轮边上。几匹毛色不同的、疲惫无力的驿马站在篱笆旁边，用尾巴驱拂着苍蝇。它们有的伸出毛茸茸的肿了的腿，眯缝着眼睛打瞌睡；有的因为无聊，就互相搔痒，或者咀嚼长在台阶旁边的粗糙的、暗绿色的羊齿植物的叶子和草茎。几条狼狗，有的卧在阳光下沉重地喘着气，有的走到两辆马车的阴影里，舐车轴上涂的油。空气中充满了灰蒙蒙的尘雾，地平线上呈现一片紫灰色，天空却没有一片乌云。一阵猛烈的西风从大路上和田野里卷起一股股尘土，吹弯了花园里高大的菩提树和白桦树的树梢，把枯黄的落叶刮到远方去。我坐在窗口，急不可耐地等待着一切准备停当。
当大家坐在客厅里，围着圆桌共同消磨最后的几分钟的时候，我根本没有想到我们将要面临着多么悲惨的时刻。最最无聊的思想掠过我的脑际。我暗自思量，不知哪个车夫赶小四轮马车，哪个车夫赶装着弹簧的马车？谁跟着爸爸，谁跟着卡尔•伊凡内奇？他们为什么一定要我围围巾，穿棉袄呢？
“难道我是个娇宝贝？我大概不会冻死。但愿这一切赶快弄好，就可以坐上车走啦！”
“请吩咐一声，我把孩子们的衣服清单交给谁呀？”娜达丽雅•萨维什娜含着泪，拿着一张字条走进来，对妈妈说。
“交给尼古拉，然后就同孩子们告别吧。”
老妇人想说什么，但是突然停住不响了，用手帕捂住脸，挥了挥手，就走出屋去。我看见这个举动，感到有些心酸，但是急．着上路的心情比这种情绪更强烈，我仍旧漫不经心地听着爸爸和妈妈谈话。他们在谈论分明双方都不感兴趣的问题：给家里买什么？对苏菲公爵小姐和朱丽叶讲些什么？路好不好走？
福加走进来，站在门口，恰恰象他平时报告：“饭准备好了！”的腔调一样，说了声：“马套好了！”我发觉，妈妈一听见这个消息就哆嗦了一下，脸色苍白，好象出乎她意料之外似的。
吩咐福加关上那个房间所有的门。这使我觉得很有趣，“好象大家在躲着什么人似的！”
大家都坐下来，福加也挨着椅子边坐下；但是他刚一坐下，门就咯吱响了一声，于是大家都回头看了看。娜达丽雅•萨维什娜匆匆忙忙走进屋来，眼睛抬也不抬，就在门边同福加坐在一张椅子上。我现在还好象看见福加的秃头，他那布满皱纹的、呆板的面孔和那个戴着包发帽，从帽下露出白发的慈祥老妇人的驼背身姿。他们挤着坐在一张椅子上，两个人都很局促不安。
我仍旧漠不关心，而且急不可耐。我觉得，关上门静坐的这十秒钟简直好象是整整一个钟头。最后大家终于都站起来，画了十字，开始告别。爸爸搂住妈妈，吻了她好几次。
“好了，我心爱的人！”爸爸说，“我们并不是永别呀！”
“终归是很伤心的！”妈妈说，因为含着泪，她的声音都发颤了。
我一听见这种声音，一看见她那抖动的嘴唇和含满泪水的眼睛，一切就都忘到九霄去外，我感到非常悲哀、痛苦和可怕，我真想跑掉，不愿和她告别。我这一瞬间才明白，她拥抱爸爸，也就是和我们告别了。
她吻了沃洛佳那么多次，在他身上画了那么多次十字，我以为，现在该轮到我了，于是就钻到前面去；但是，她一次又一次地替他祝福，把他紧紧抱在怀里。最后我搂住她，恋恋不舍地依偎着她，哭了又哭，什么都不想，只想着我的伤心事。
我们要上马车的时候，令人讨厌的仆人们在前厅里同我们告别。他们所说的“让我吻吻您的手”，他们印在我肩膀上的响吻和他们头上的油脂气味，在我心中唤起一种近似易于激动的人所感到的伤心的心情。在这种心情的支配下，当娜达丽雅•萨维什娜泪流满面向我告别的时候，我非常冷淡地吻了吻她的包发帽。
奇怪的是，我现在还好象看到所有仆人的面孔，而且能够细致入微地描绘出来；但是妈妈的容貌和姿态我却完全忘记了，也许这是因为我一直都鼓不起勇气来看她一眼。我觉得，如果我这么做，我和她的悲哀就会达到难以忍受的地步。
我抢先跑上装着弹簧的四轮马车，坐在后座上，撑起的车篷使我看不见任何东西，但是我的本能告诉我，妈妈还在马车旁边。
“我要不要再看看她？……是的，最后一次！”我自言自语地说着，从马车里探出头朝台阶望去。这时候，妈妈怀着同样的想法从马车的另一边走来，呼唤我的名字。听见她在身后叫我的声音，我就扭过身来，但是由于扭得太快，结果我们的头撞在一起了。她苦笑了一下，最后又非常、非常热烈地吻了我一次。
我们走了几丈的时候，我决定再看她一眼。一阵风吹起她头上那块小小的蓝头巾；她低着头，双手捂着脸，慢慢地走上台阶。福加扶着她。
爸爸坐在我身边，什么也没有说；我哭得喘不上气来，我的噪子象被什么东西哽住了，我简直害怕会闷死……上了大路，我们看见凉台上有人在挥白手帕。我开始挥我的手帕，这种动作使我平静了一点。我继续哭着；一想到我的眼泪足以证明我多情善感，就感高兴和欣慰。
走了一里左右，我坐得更舒适些，开始聚精会神地凝视眼前最近的物体——在我这边奔驰的拉边套马的臀部。我看看那匹花马怎样甩动尾巴，一只脚怎样叩打另一只，车夫的编制的马鞭怎样落到它身上，它的四脚怎样开始一齐跳动。我看见它身上的皮颈套和颈套上的铜环怎样跳动，我一直凝视到马尾附近的皮套布满汗珠为止。我开始四下环顾：观看起伏波动的成熟了的麦田，观看黑黝黝的休耕地，地里有时看得见一架木犁、一个农民和一匹带着马驹的母马；我观看里程标，甚至瞅一眼车夫的驭台，好看看跟我们去的是哪个车夫；我脸上的泪痕还没有干，我的思绪就已经远远地离开我的妈妈，也许我要同她永别了的妈妈。但是，一切回忆都使人想到她。我想起前一天我在白桦林荫路上找到的蘑菇，想起柳博奇卡和卡简卡争吵谁来采它，还想起同我们分别时她们怎样哭泣。
我舍不得离开她们！也舍不得离开娜达丽雅•萨维什娜和那条白桦林荫路，还舍不得离开福加！连那个很凶的米米，我也舍不得离开。我会都舍不得！而可怜的妈妈呢？泪水又涌到我的眼里；但是时间并不长。
Chapter 15 Childhood
HAPPY, happy, never-returning time of childhood! How can we help loving and dwelling upon its recollections? They cheer and elevate the soul, and become to one a source of higher joys.
Sometimes, when dreaming of bygone days, I fancy that, tired out with running about, I have sat down, as of old, in my high arm- chair by the tea-table. It is late, and I have long since drunk my cup of milk. My eyes are heavy with sleep as I sit there and listen. How could I not listen, seeing that Mamma is speaking to somebody, and that the sound of her voice is so melodious and kind? How much its echoes recall to my heart! With my eyes veiled with drowsiness I gaze at her wistfully. Suddenly she seems to grow smaller and smaller, and her face vanishes to a point; yet I can still see it--can still see her as she looks at me and smiles. Somehow it pleases me to see her grown so small. I blink and blink, yet she looks no larger than a boy reflected in the pupil of an eye. Then I rouse myself, and the picture fades. Once more I half-close my eyes, and cast about to try and recall the dream, but it has gone,
I rise to my feet, only to fall back comfortably into the armchair.
"There! You are failing asleep again, little Nicolas," says Mamma. "You had better go to by-by."
"No, I won't go to sleep, Mamma," I reply, though almost inaudibly, for pleasant dreams are filling all my soul. The sound sleep of childhood is weighing my eyelids down, and for a few moments I sink into slumber and oblivion until awakened by some one. I feel in my sleep as though a soft hand were caressing me. I know it by the touch, and, though still dreaming, I seize hold of it and press it to my lips. Every one else has gone to bed, and only one candle remains burning in the drawing-room. Mamma has said that she herself will wake me. She sits down on the arm of the chair in which I am asleep, with her soft hand stroking my hair, and I hear her beloved, well-known voice say in my ear:
"Get up, my darling. It is time to go by-by."
No envious gaze sees her now. She is not afraid to shed upon me the whole of her tenderness and love. I do not wake up, yet I kiss and kiss her hand.
"Get up, then, my angel."
She passes her other arm round my neck, and her fingers tickle me as they move across it. The room is quiet and in half-darkness, but the tickling has touched my nerves and I begin to awake. Mamma is sitting near me--that I can tell--and touching me; I can hear her voice and feel her presence. This at last rouses me to spring up, to throw my arms around her neck, to hide my head in her bosom, and to say with a sigh:
"Ah, dear, darling Mamma, how much I love you!"
She smiles her sad, enchanting smile, takes my head between her two hands, kisses me on the forehead, and lifts me on to her lap.
"Do you love me so much, then?" she says. Then, after a few moments' silence, she continues: "And you must love me always, and never forget me. If your Mamma should no longer be here, will you promise never to forget her--never, Nicolinka? and she kisses me more fondly than ever.
"Oh, but you must not speak so, darling Mamma, my own darling Mamma!" I exclaim as I clasp her knees, and tears of joy and love fall from my eyes.
How, after scenes like this, I would go upstairs, and stand before the ikons, and say with a rapturous feeling, "God bless Papa and Mamma!" and repeat a prayer for my beloved mother which my childish lips had learnt to lisp-the love of God and of her blending strangely in a single emotion!
After saying my prayers I would wrap myself up in the bedclothes. My heart would feel light, peaceful, and happy, and one dream would follow another. Dreams of what? They were all of them vague, but all of them full of pure love and of a sort of expectation of happiness. I remember, too, that I used to think about Karl Ivanitch and his sad lot. He was the only unhappy being whom I knew, and so sorry would I feel for him, and so much did I love him, that tears would fall from my eyes as I thought, "May God give him happiness, and enable me to help him and to lessen his sorrow. I could make any sacrifice for him!" Usually, also, there would be some favourite toy--a china dog or hare-- stuck into the bed-corner behind the pillow, and it would please me to think how warm and comfortable and well cared-for it was there. Also, I would pray God to make every one happy, so that every one might be contented, and also to send fine weather to- morrow for our walk. Then I would turn myself over on to the other side, and thoughts and dreams would become jumbled and entangled together until at last I slept soundly and peacefully, though with a face wet with tears.
Do in after life the freshness and light-heartedness, the craving for love and for strength of faith, ever return which we experience in our childhood's years? What better time is there in our lives than when the two best of virtues--innocent gaiety and a boundless yearning for affection--are our sole objects of pursuit?
Where now are our ardent prayers? Where now are our best gifts-- the pure tears of emotion which a guardian angel dries with a smile as he sheds upon us lovely dreams of ineffable childish joy? Can it be that life has left such heavy traces upon one's heart that those tears and ecstasies are for ever vanished? Can it be that there remains to us only the recollection of them?
 
幸福的，幸福的，一去不返的童年时代啊！怎能不爱惜，不珍重对童年的回忆呢？这些回忆使我精神舒爽，心情振奋，是我的无上乐趣的泉源。
跑够了，你就坐在茶桌旁那把高背的安乐椅里；时候不早了，你早就喝完了你那杯加糖的牛奶，睡意蒙胧的闭上眼睛，但是一动也不动地坐着谛听。你怎么能不听呢？妈妈在同什么人谈话，她的声音是那么悦耳，那么动人。单单这种声音就给我的心灵很大的启发！我用蒙胧的睡眼凝视着她的脸，她突然变得愈来愈小，她的脸只有钮扣那么大；但我不是看得非常清楚：我看见，她望了我一眼，微微一笑。我喜欢看见她只有这么一点点大。我把眼睛眯缝得更细一些，她变得还没有瞳仁里的小人都么大了；但是我动了一下，这种魔力就破灭了。我眯起眼睛，扭过身去，拚命想使这种现象重现，但是徒劳无益。
我站起来，连脚带腿蜷缩成一团，舒适地躺到安乐椅里。
“你又要睡着了，尼古连卡 ① ，”妈妈对我说，“你最好上楼去。”
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①尼古连卡：尼古拉的小名。
“我不想睡，妈妈，”我回答她，但是模糊而甜美的幻想充满我的脑际，健康的孩子的睡意使我的眼睛闭拢，转瞬就进入梦乡，一直睡到我被唤醒为止。蒙胧中我常常感到什么人温存的手抚摩我；单凭这种抚摩，我就知道是她，还在梦中我就不由自主地拉住那只手，把它紧紧地，紧紧地按在嘴唇上。
所有的人都已经散去；客厅里只点着一根蜡烛；妈妈说，她要亲自唤醒我；是她坐在我睡的那张椅子上，用那温柔得惊人的手抚摩着我的头发，用我听惯了的、可爱的声音在我耳边说：
“起来，我的宝贝，该去睡了。”
没有任何人的冷淡的眼光会使她拘束：她不怕把她的全部温柔和慈爱倾注到我身上。我动也不动，又是更加热烈地吻她的手。
“起来，我的好宝贝！”
她用另外一只手托住我的脖子，她的手指迅速地动着，搔着我。房间里一片寂静，半明半暗；搔痒使我清醒，使我的神经兴奋；妈妈坐在我身边；她爱抚着我；我闻到她的香味，听到她的声音。这一切使我跳起来，双手搂住她的脖颈，把头偎在她怀里，上气不接下气地说：
“噢，亲爱的，亲爱的妈妈，我多么爱你呀！”
她忧愁而迷人地微微一笑，双手抱住我的头，吻我的前额，让我坐在她的膝头上。
“这么说你非常爱我？”她沉默了片刻，随后说：“记住，你要永远爱我，决不要忘记我。如果妈妈不在了，你不会忘掉她吗？尼古连卡，你不会忘记吧？”
她更加温存地吻我。
“得了，别说这种话，我亲爱的妈妈，我最亲爱的妈妈！”我叫起来，吻她的膝头，泪如泉涌，这是爱和狂喜的眼泪。
在这以后，当我回到楼上，穿上小棉袄，站在圣像前，说：“主啊，求你拯救我的爸爸和妈妈”时，我怀着多么奇妙的心清啊！当我重复我呀呀学语时初次为我亲爱的母亲祝福的祈祷文时，我对她的爱和对上帝的爱就奇异地交织在一起了。
祈祷以后，我往往就钻进被窝，心里觉得又轻松，又愉快，又高兴；一个梦想接着一个，但是梦想些什么呢？都很难捉摸，不过，梦里却充满了纯洁的爱和光明幸福的希望。有时我回忆起卡尔•伊凡内奇和他的悲苦命运（他是我所晓得的唯一不幸的人），我替他那么难过，那么爱他，难过得替他掉下泪来，我想道：“愿上帝赐给他幸福，使我能够帮助他，减轻他的痛苦；为了他，我情愿牺牲一切。”随后，我就把我心爱的瓷玩具———一只小兔或者一只小狗——放到鸭绒枕头角上，欣赏它那么美好、舒适而温暖地躺在那里。接着我又祈祷，求上帝赐给大家幸福，让大家都称心如意．明天散步有好天气；然后我翻个身，思绪和梦想就混成一片，脸上还带着湿漉漉的泪水，便平静而安然地进入了梦乡。
童年时代所具有的那种朝气蓬勃的精神，无忧无虑的心清，对爱的要求和信仰的力量，将来还会复返吗？当天真的喜悦和对爱的无限需求这两种至上的美德是人生唯一的愿望时，有什么时候会比它更美好呢？
那些热诚的祈祷在哪里？那最好的礼物—一纯洁的感动的眼泪——在哪里呢？抚慰人的天使飞来，微笑着揩干这些眼泪，把甜蜜的梦想送到纯洁无邪的孩子的想象中。
难道生活在我的心头遗留下那样苦痛的痕迹，使那些眼泪和欢欣永远离开了我？难道留下的只是回忆？
Chapter 16 Verse-Making
RATHER less than a month after our arrival in Moscow I was sitting upstairs in my Grandmamma's house and doing some writing at a large table. Opposite to me sat the drawing master, who was giving a few finishing touches to the head of a turbaned Turk, executed in black pencil. Woloda, with out-stretched neck, was standing behind the drawing master and looking over his shoulder. The head was Woloda's first production in pencil and to-day-- Grandmamma's name-day--the masterpiece was to be presented to her.
"Aren't you going to put a little more shadow there? " said Woloda to the master as he raised himself on tiptoe and pointed to the Turk's neck.
"No, it is not necessary," the master replied as he put pencil and drawing-pen into a japanned folding box. "It is just right now, and you need not do anything more to it. As for you, Nicolinka " he added, rising and glancing askew at the Turk,
"won't you tell us your great secret at last? What are you going to give your Grandmamma? I think another head would be your best gift. But good-bye, gentlemen," and taking his hat and cardboard he departed.
I too had thought that another head than the one at which I had been working would be a better gift; so, when we were told that Grandmamma's name-day was soon to come round and that we must each of us have a present ready for her, I had taken it into my head to write some verses in honour of the occasion, and had forthwith composed two rhymed couplets, hoping that the rest would soon materialise. I really do not know how the idea--one so peculiar for a child--came to occur to me, but I know that I liked it vastly, and answered all questions on the subject of my gift by declaring that I should soon have something ready for Grandmamma, but was not going to say what it was.
Contrary to my expectation, I found that, after the first two couplets executed in the initial heat of enthusiasm, even my most strenuous efforts refused to produce another one. I began to read different poems in our books, but neither Dimitrieff nor Derzhavin could help me. On the contrary, they only confirmed my sense of incompetence. Knowing, however, that Karl Ivanitch was fond of writing verses, I stole softly upstairs to burrow among his papers, and found, among a number of German verses, some in the Russian language which seemed to have come from his own pen.
To L
Remember near Remember far, Remember me. To-day be faithful, and for ever-- Aye, still beyond the grave--remember That I have well loved thee.
"KARL MAYER."
These verses (which were written in a fine, round hand on thin letter-paper) pleased me with the touching sentiment with which they seemed to be inspired. I learnt them by heart, and decided to take them as a model. The thing was much easier now. By the time the name-day had arrived I had completed a twelve-couplet congratulatory ode, and sat down to the table in our school-room to copy them out on vellum.
Two sheets were soon spoiled--not because I found it necessary to alter anything (the verses seemed to me perfect), but because, after the third line, the tail-end of each successive one would go curving upward and making it plain to all the world that the whole thing had been written with a want of adherence to the horizontal--a thing which I could not bear to see.
The third sheet also came out crooked, but I determined to make it do. In my verses I congratulated Grandmamma, wished her many happy returns, and concluded thus:
Endeavouring you to please and cheer, We love you like our Mother dear."
This seemed to me not bad, yet it offended my car somehow.
"Lo-ve you li-ike our Mo-ther dear," I repeated to myself. "What other rhyme could I use instead of 'dear'? Fear? Steer? Well, it must go at that. At least the verses are better than Karl Ivanitch's."
Accordingly I added the last verse to the rest. Then I went into our bedroom and recited the whole poem aloud with much feeling and gesticulation. The verses were altogether guiltless of metre, but I did not stop to consider that. Yet the last one displeased me more than ever. As I sat on my bed I thought:
"Why on earth did I write 'like our Mother dear'? She is not here, and therefore she need never have been mentioned. True, I love and respect Grandmamma, but she is not quite the same as-- Why DID I write that? What did I go and tell a lie for? They may be verses only, yet I needn't quite have done that."
At that moment the tailor arrived with some new clothes for us.
"Well, so be it!" I said in much vexation as I crammed the verses hastily under my pillow and ran down to adorn myself in the new Moscow garments.
They fitted marvellously-both the brown jacket with yellow buttons (a garment made skin-tight and not "to allow room for growth," as in the country) and the black trousers (also close- fitting so that they displayed the figure and lay smoothly over the boots).
"At last I have real trousers on!" I thought as I looked at my legs with the utmost satisfaction. I concealed from every one the fact that the new clothes were horribly tight and uncomfortable, but, on the contrary, said that, if there were a fault, it was that they were not tight enough. For a long while I stood before the looking-glass as I combed my elaborately pomaded head, but, try as I would, I could not reduce the topmost hairs on the crown to order. As soon as ever I left off combing them, they sprang up again and radiated in different directions, thus giving my face a ridiculous expression.
Karl Ivanitch was dressing in another room, and I heard some one bring him his blue frockcoat and under-linen. Then at the door leading downstairs I heard a maid-servant's voice, and went to see what she wanted. In her hand she held a well-starched shirt which she said she had been sitting up all night to get ready. I took it, and asked if Grandmamma was up yet.
"Oh yes, she has had her coffee, and the priest has come. My word, but you look a fine little fellow! " added the girl with a smile at my new clothes.
This observation made me blush, so I whirled round on one leg, snapped my fingers, and went skipping away, in the hope that by these manoeuvres I should make her sensible that even yet she had not realised quite what a fine fellow I was.
However, when I took the shirt to Karl I found that he did not need it, having taken another one. Standing before a small looking-glass, he tied his cravat with both hands--trying, by various motions of his head, to see whether it fitted him comfortably or not--and then took us down to see Grandmamma. To this day I cannot help laughing when I remember what a smell of pomade the three of us left behind us on the staircase as we descended.
Karl was carrying a box which he had made himself, Woloda, his drawing, and I my verses, while each of us also had a form of words ready with which to present his gift. Just as Karl opened the door, the priest put on his vestment and began to say prayers.
During the ceremony Grandmamma stood leaning over the back of a chair, with her head bent down. Near her stood Papa. He turned and smiled at us as we hurriedly thrust our presents behind our backs and tried to remain unobserved by the door. The whole effect of a surprise, upon which we had been counting, was entirely lost. When at last every one had made the sign of the cross I became intolerably oppressed with a sudden, invincible, and deadly attack of shyness, so that the courage to, offer my present completely failed me. I hid myself behind Karl Ivanitch, who solemnly congratulated Grandmamma and, transferring his box from his right hand to his left, presented it to her. Then he withdrew a few steps to make way for Woloda. Grandmamma seemed highly pleased with the box (which was adorned with a gold border), and smiled in the most friendly manner in order to express her gratitude. Yet it was evident that, she did not know where to set the box down, and this probably accounts for the fact that she handed it to Papa, at the same time bidding him observe how beautifully it was made.
His curiosity satisfied, Papa handed the box to the priest, who also seemed particularly delighted with it, and looked with astonishment, first at the article itself, and then at the artist who could make such wonderful things. Then Woloda presented his Turk, and received a similarly flattering ovation on all sides.
It was my turn now, and Grandmamma turned to me with her kindest smile. Those who have experienced what embarrassment is know that it is a feeling which grows in direct proportion to delay, while decision decreases in similar measure. In other words the longer the condition lasts, the more invincible does it become, and the smaller does the power of decision come to be.
My last remnants of nerve and energy had forsaken me while Karl and Woloda had been offering their presents, and my shyness now reached its culminating point, I felt the blood rushing from my heart to my head, one blush succeeding another across my face, and drops of perspiration beginning to stand out on my brow and nose. My ears were burning, I trembled from head to foot, and, though I kept changing from one foot to the other, I remained rooted where I stood.
"Well, Nicolinka, tell us what you have brought?" said Papa.
"Is it a box or a drawing? "
There was nothing else to be done. With a trembling hand held out the folded, fatal paper, but my voiced failed me completely and I stood before Grandmamma in silence. I could not get rid of the dreadful idea that, instead of a display of the expected drawing, some bad verses of mine were about to be read aloud before every one, and that the words "our Mother dear " would clearly prove that I had never loved, but had only forgotten, her. How shall I express my sufferings when Grandmamma began to read my poetry aloud?--when, unable to decipher it, she stopped half-way and looked at Papa with a smile (which I took to be one of ridicule)?--when she did not pronounce it as I had meant it to be pronounced?--and when her weak sight not allowing her to finish it, she handed the paper to Papa and requested him to read it all over again from the beginning? I fancied that she must have done this last because she did not like to read such a lot of stupid, crookedly written stuff herself, yet wanted to point out to Papa my utter lack of feeling. I expected him to slap me in the face with the verses and say, "You bad boy! So you have forgotten your Mamma! Take that for it!" Yet nothing of the sort happened. On the contrary, when the whole had been read, Grandmamma said, "Charming!" and kissed me on the forehead. Then our presents, together with two cambric pocket-handkerchiefs and a snuff-box engraved with Mamma's portrait, were laid on the table attached to the great Voltairian arm-chair in which Grandmamma always sat.
"The Princess Barbara Ilinitsha!" announced one of the two footmen who used to stand behind Grandmamma's carriage, but Grandmamma was looking thoughtfully at the portrait on the snuff- box, and returned no answer.
"Shall I show her in, madam?" repeated the footman.
 
我们迁到莫斯科一个来月以后，我坐在外祖母家楼上的一张大桌子旁写字；对面坐着图画老师，他正在对一个用黑铅笔画的缠着头巾的土耳其人头像进行最后加工。沃洛佳伸着脖子站在老师背后，从他的肩头望过去。这个头像是沃洛佳用黑铅笔画的第一幅作品，因为那天是外祖母的命名日，当天就要献给她。
“这儿您不再画点阴影吗？”沃洛佳对教师说，他踮着脚尖，指着土耳其人的脖颈。
“不，用不着，”老师说，把铅笔和笔套插进一只可以插笔的小匣子里。“现在很好了，您不要再动了。”他站起来，还斜眼望着那个土耳其人，补充说：“喂，您呢，尼古连卡，还是把您的秘密告诉我们吧，您送给外祖母什么礼物呀？真的，您最好也画个头像。再见吧，先生们，”他说罢，拿起帽子和票子就走了 ① 。
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①票子：老师教一课领一张票，积到一定数目，就清付一次。
当时我也认为，画个头像比我搞的东西要好些。我们听到人家说，不久就是外祖母的命名日，应当准备祝贺的礼物时，我忽然想到要写一首贺诗，我立刻写了两行押韵的诗句，希望赶快把其余的也写出来。我一点也记不起，这种对于小孩来说十分奇怪的念头怎么会钻进我的头脑里，不过我记得，我非常喜欢这个主意，人家一提到这个问题，我就回答说，我一定会送给外祖母一件礼物，但是不对任何人讲这礼物究竟是什么。
结果与事愿违，除了我一时心血来潮想出来的那两行诗而外我虽然百般努力，却什么也写不出来了。我开始阅读书本里的诗句；但是德米特里耶夫也好 ① ，杰尔查文也好 ② ，对我都无济于事相反的，他们使我更加相信自己的无能。知道卡尔•伊凡内奇喜欢抄诗，我开始偷偷地翻他的文件，终于在一些德文诗中找到一首俄文诗，这大概出于他自己的手笔。
献给露……彼得罗夫斯卡雅夫人
一八二八年六月三日
想着我近在眼前，
想着我远在天边，
想着我吧，
从今天直到水远，
到我死去仍然把我想念，
我曾多么忠实地把您爱恋。
卡尔•毛叶尔作
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①德米特里耶夫（176o-1837）：俄罗斯诗人。
②杰尔查文（1743-1816）：俄罗斯诗人。
这首诗是用秀丽而圆浑的笔迹写在一张薄薄的信纸上，诗里充满了动人的感情，使我很喜欢它；我立刻就把它背熟了，决定拿它当作范本。以后写起来就容易得多了。外祖母命名日那天，我写好一首十二行的祝贺诗，于是坐在教室的书桌旁，用精美的皮纸把它誊写出来。
我已经写坏了两张纸……并不是我想改动什么，诗句我认为是非常好的；但是，在写第三行以后，每行的末尾越来越往上翘，因此，就是从远处也会看出写得歪歪扭扭，完全不行。
第三张纸上的宇同前两张的一样歪斜；但是我决定不再抄了。我这首诗祝贺加祖母，希望她长命百岁，结尾是这样：
我们要尽力使您欢欣舒畅。
并且爱您，象爱自已的亲娘。
这好象很不错，但是最后一句诗使我感到出奇地刺耳。
“并且爱您，象爱自己的亲娘。”我暗自反复吟哦，“还有什么字可以代替娘字作韵脚？荡？床？……峨，这还过得去！无论如何比卡尔•伊凡内奇的强。”
于是我写下了最后一行。接着我的卧室里，做着手势，怀着感情，朗诵了一下全诗。有几行完全不押韵，但是我不再推敲了；只有最后一行听起来更不顺耳，更令人不快。我坐在床上思索……
“我为什么要写象爱自己的亲娘呢？她不在这儿，因此提都不用提她。的确，我很爱戴，很尊敬外祖母，不过总还不一样……我为什么这么写呢？我为什么撒谎？就算是诗吧，也不该这样呀！”
正在这时，裁缝走进来，给我们送来崭新的小燕尾服。
“哦，算了吧！”我非常不耐烦地说，很懊丧地把那首诗塞到枕头底下，就跑去试穿莫斯科的服装了。
莫斯科的服装非常好；缀着铜扣的棕色小燕尾服缝得十分合身，不象在乡下给我们做的衣服那么肥大。黑裤子也窄窄的，简直好极了，它使筋肉都显露出来，下边罩在靴子上。
“我终于也有了镶着饰带的裤子，真正的礼服裤了！”我沉思着，得意忘形了，从四面打量着自己的腿。虽然新衣服很紧，穿着很不灵便，但我却不对任何人讲这一点，反而说它非常舒适，如果说这身衣服还有什么毛病，那就是它稍微肥了一点。接着我在穿衣镜前站了好久，梳我那涂了很多生发油的头发；但是无论怎么努力，我也梳不平头顶上那绺翘起的头发。我刚要试试看它听不听话，不再用梳子往下压，它马上就竖起来，向四面翘，这给我的脸添上一副滑稽相。
卡尔•伊凡内奇在另外一个房间里穿衣服，穿过教室给他拿去一件蓝色燕尾服和几件白内衣。在通楼梯的门口，传来外祖母的一个使女的声音，我出去看看她有什么事。她拿着一件浆得笔挺的胸衣，对我说是给卡尔•伊凡内奇送来的，为了及时洗好，她通宵未睡。我承担了转送胸衣的使命，顺便问外祖母起来了没有。
“当然起来啦！她已经喝过咖啡。大司祭都来了。您多么漂亮呀！”她微微一笑补充说，一面打量我的新衣服。
这句评语使我脸红了，我金鸡独立地扭过身去，弹了弹指头，跳了一跳，想让她感觉到她还不够清楚我实际上是个多么漂亮的小伙子哩。
我给卡尔•伊凡内奇送去胸衣时，他已经不需要了。因为他已经穿上另外一件，弯着腰，站在摆在桌上的小镜子前面，双手拿着领带的蓬松花结，试试他那剃得干干净净的下巴是否能自如地套进套出。他给我们把衣服处处都拉直，并且叫尼古拉也替他这样做了以后，就领着我们去见外祖母。想起我们三个下楼时，发出多么浓烈的生发油味，我觉得真是好笑。
卡尔•伊凡内奇捧着一只他亲手制做的匣子，沃洛佳拿着他那幅车，我拿着我的诗；每个人都准备好献礼的祝辞。正当卡尔•伊凡内奇打开大厅的门时，神甫穿上法衣，传来祈祷仪式开始的声音。
外祖母已经在大厅里了：她弯着腰，扶着椅背，站在墙边虔诚地祈祷着；爸爸站在她身边。他向我们转过身来，见到我们匆忙把准备好的礼物藏到身后、竭力想不惹人注意地留在门口，就微微一笑。我们本来打算来个出其不意，现在全垮台了。
当大家都走到十字架跟前的时候，我突然感到一阵难以抑制的、令人变得傻头傻脑的羞涩，觉得再也没有勇气献上我的礼物，于是我就躲在卡尔•伊凡内奇背后。他用最优美的辞句向外祖母祝贺，把小匣子从右手倒换到左手，呈献给外祖母，然后朝旁边走了几步，让沃洛佳走上前去。外祖母好象很喜欢这个镶金边的匣子，用十分和蔼可亲的笑容表达了她的谢意。可是，很显然，她不知道把这个匣子摆在哪儿才好，大概为了这个缘故，她要爸爸看看这个匣子做得多么精致。
爸爸看够了以后，就把它递给好象很喜欢这件小东西的大司祭：他摇摇头，好奇地一会儿看看匣子，一会儿看看能够做出这么精美的东西的巧匠。沃洛佳献上他画的土耳其人，也博得大家的赞扬。轮到我了，外祖母含着鼓励的笑容望着我。
凡是尝过羞怯心清的滋味的人都晓得，这种心情是同时间成正比增长的，而一个人的决心却同时间成反比地减退，也就是说，羞怯心情持续愈久就愈难以克服，决心也就愈小。
卡尔•伊凡内奇和沃洛佳献礼的时候，我连最后的一点勇气和决心都失掉了，我的羞怯达到了极点：我觉得血液不住地从心里往头上涌，脸上红一阵白一阵，额头和鼻梁上出现了大颗的汗珠。我的两耳发热，浑身发抖，汗如雨下，我一会儿用左脚站着，一会儿用右脚站着，但是却没有动地方。
“喂，尼古连卡，让我们看看你带来了什么？是只匣子呢，还是一幅画？”爸爸对我说。我没有办法，只好用颤抖的手把那揉皱了的倒霉纸卷交给外祖母；但是我的声音完全不听使唤了，我一声不响地站在外祖母面前。一想到，不是他们期待的画，他们会当众宣读我那糟糕透顶的诗句，象爱自己的亲娘这种足以证明我从来也不爱妈妈，而且已经忘了她的诗句，我就心神不宁起来。外祖母开始朗诵我的诗，她因为看不清楚，念了一半就停下来，带着我当时觉得好象嘲讽的笑容瞧了爸爸一眼；她没有照着我所希望的那样去读，而且由于眼力不济，没有念完，就把那张纸递给爸爸，让他从头再念一遍，唉，此时此刻我的痛苦心情怎么来表达呢？我以为她这样做，是因为她不爱念这么拙劣的、写得歪歪扭扭的诗，是要爸爸亲自读最后那句清楚地证明我缺乏感情的诗句。我以为他会用这卷诗在我的鼻子上打一下，说：“坏孩子，不要忘记你母亲……因此，你就挨一下吧！”但是根本没有发生这类事情；相反的，全诗读完了的时候，外祖母说；“Charmant ① ”，并且吻了吻我的额头。
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①charmant；法语“好极了，’。
匣子、画和诗，都放到外祖母常坐的高背安乐椅上的活动小桌上，摆在两块麻纱手帕和画着妈妈肖像的鼻烟壶旁边。
“瓦尔瓦拉•伊里尼契娜公爵夫人到！”通常站在外祖母马车后面的两个高大的仆人中的一个通报说。
外祖母望着玳瑁鼻烟壶上的肖像，正在沉思，没有回答。
“请她进来吧，夫人？”仆人又问道。
Chapter 17 The Princess Kornakoff
"Yes, show her in," said Grandmamma, settling herself as far back in her arm-chair as possible. The Princess was a woman of about forty-five, small and delicate, with a shrivelled skin and disagreeable, greyish-green eyes, the expression of which contradicted the unnaturally suave look of the rest of her face. Underneath her velvet bonnet, adorned with an ostrich feather, was visible some reddish hair, while against the unhealthy colour of her skin her eyebrows and eyelashes looked even lighter and redder that they would other wise have done. Yet, for all that, her animated movements, small hands, and peculiarly dry features communicated something aristocratic and energetic to her general appearance. She talked a great deal, and, to judge from her eloquence, belonged to that class of persons who always speak as though some one were contradicting them, even though no one else may be saying a word. First she would raise her voice, then lower it and then take on a fresh access of vivacity as she looked at the persons present, but not participating in the conversation, with an air of endeavouring to draw them into it.
Although the Princess kissed Grandmamma's hand and repeatedly called her "my good Aunt," I could see that Grandmamma did not care much about her, for she kept raising her eyebrows in a peculiar way while listening to the Princess's excuses why Prince Michael had been prevented from calling, and congratulating Grandmamma "as he would like so-much to have done." At length, however, she answered the Princess's French with Russian, and with a sharp accentuation of certain words.
"I am much obliged to you for your kindness," she said. "As for Prince Michael's absence, pray do not mention it. He has so much else to do. Besides, what pleasure could he find in coming to see an old woman like me?" Then, without allowing the Princess time to reply, she went on: "How are your children my dear?"
"Well, thank God, Aunt, they grow and do their lessons and play-- particularly my eldest one, Etienne, who is so wild that it is almost impossible to keep him in order. Still, he is a clever and promising boy. Would you believe it, cousin" this last to Papa, since Grandmamma altogether uninterested in the Princess's children, had turned to us, taken my verses out from beneath the presentation box, and unfolded them again), "would you believe it, but one day not long ago--" and leaning over towards Papa, the Princess related something or other with great vivacity. Then, her tale concluded, she laughed, and, with a questioning look at Papa, went on:
"What a boy, cousin! He ought to have been whipped, but the trick was so spirited and amusing that I let him off." Then the Princess looked at Grandmamma and laughed again.
"Ah! So you WHIP your children, do you" said Grandmamma, with a significant lift of her eyebrows, and laying a peculiar stress on the word "WHIP."
"Alas, my good Aunt," replied the Princess in a sort of tolerant tone and with another glance at Papa, "I know your views on the subject, but must beg to be allowed to differ with them. However much I have thought over and read and talked about the matter, I have always been forced to come to the conclusion that children must be ruled through FEAR. To make something of a child, you must make it FEAR something. Is it not so, cousin? And what, pray, do children fear so much as a rod?"
As she spoke she seemed, to look inquiringly at Woloda and myself, and I confess that I did not feel altogether comfortable.
"Whatever you may say," she went on, "a boy of twelve, or even of fourteen, is still a child and should be whipped as such; but with girls, perhaps, it is another matter."
"How lucky it is that I am not her son!" I thought to myself.
"Oh, very well," said Grandmamma, folding up my verses and replacing them beneath the box (as though, after that exposition of views, the Princess was unworthy of the honour of listening to such a production). "Very well, my dear," she repeated "But please tell me how, in return, you can look for any delicate sensibility from your children?"
Evidently Grandmamma thought this argument unanswerable, for she cut the subject short by adding:
"However, it is a point on which people must follow their own opinions."
The Princess did not choose to reply, but smiled condescendingly, and as though out of indulgence to the strange prejudices of a person whom she only PRETENDED to revere.
"Oh, by the way, pray introduce me to your young people," she went on presently as she threw us another gracious smile.
Thereupon we rose and stood looking at the Princess, without in the least knowing what we ought to do to show that we were being introduced.
"Kiss the Princess's hand," said Papa.
"Well, I hope you will love your old aunt," she said to Woloda, kissing his hair, "even though we are not near relatives. But I value friendship far more than I do degrees of relationship," she added to Grandmamma, who nevertheless, remained hostile, and replied:
"Eh, my dear? Is that what they think of relationships nowadays?"
"Here is my man of the world," put in Papa, indicating Woloda;
"and here is my poet," he added as I kissed the small, dry hand of the Princess, with a vivid picture in my mind of that same hand holding a rod and applying it vigorously.
"WHICH one is the poet?" asked the Princess.
"This little one," replied Papa, smiling; "the one with the tuft of hair on his top-knot."
"Why need he bother about my tuft?" I thought to myself as I retired into a corner. "Is there nothing else for him to talk about?"
I had strange ideas on manly beauty. I considered Karl Ivanitch one of the handsomest men in the world, and myself so ugly that I had no need to deceive myself on that point. Therefore any remark on the subject of my exterior offended me extremely. I well remember how, one day after luncheon (I was then six years of age), the talk fell upon my personal appearance, and how Mamma tried to find good features in my face, and said that I had clever eyes and a charming smile; how, nevertheless, when Papa had examined me, and proved the contrary, she was obliged to confess that I was ugly; and how, when the meal was over and I went to pay her my respects, she said as she patted my cheek;
"You know, Nicolinka, nobody will ever love you for your face alone, so you must try all the more to be a good and clever boy."
Although these words of hers confirmed in me my conviction that I was not handsome, they also confirmed in me an ambition to be just such a boy as she had indicated. Yet I had my moments of despair at my ugliness, for I thought that no human being with such a large nose, such thick lips, and such small grey eyes as mine could ever hope to attain happiness on this earth. I used to ask God to perform a miracle by changing me into a beauty, and would have given all that I possessed, or ever hoped to possess, to have a handsome face,
 
“请进来，”外祖母说，往安乐椅里更坐进些。
公爵夫人是个大约四十五岁的女人，身材矮小，瘦弱干瘪，满脸怨气，一双讨人厌的灰绿色小眼睛，她的眼神和那张动人得不自然的小嘴上的轮廓显然很不协调。在她那顶插着鸵鸟翎的丝绒帽子下面露出淡棕色头发，衬着她那憔悴的脸色，她的眉毛和睫毛的颜色显得更淡，更红了。虽然如此，由于她的雍容大方的举止，她的小手，由于她整个脸盘出奇的消瘦，她的整个外表还是有一种高贵和刚毅的神情。
公爵夫人滔滔不绝地讲着，按照她那爱说话的性格看来，她属于那一类人，这种人说话时总好象有人在反驳他，虽然并没有人说过什么。她有时抬高嗓门，有时又渐渐压低声音，随后又忽然有声有色地讲起来，环顾着在场的、但是没有参加谈话的人，好象极力用这种眼光来派励自己似的。
虽然公爵夫人吻了外祖母的手，不住声地管她叫 ma bonnetante ① ，但是我发现外祖母对她并不满意。外祖母在听她讲为什么米哈伊洛公爵无论如何不能亲自前来给外祖母祝寿，虽然他满心想来的时候，似乎很特别地扬着眉毛；在用俄语回答公爵夫人的法国话时，她特别拉长了声调说：
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①ma bonne tame：法语“我亲爱的姑母”。
“我非常感激您对我的关切，我的亲爱的；至于米哈伊洛公爵没有驾临，那还用说吗？……他总是有事情缠身。本来嘛，陪老太婆坐着又有什么乐趣呢？”
不容公爵夫人反驳她的话，她就又接着说：
“你们的孩子们好吗，我的亲爱的？”
“很好，感谢上帝，ma tante；他们长大了，正在读书，可是非常淘气……特别是艾金，最大的那个。他变成那么一个调皮鬼，简直难以管教；可是他很聪明，un garcon,qui Promet ① 。您可以想像， mon cousin ② ，”她接下去说，只对着我爸爸一个人，因为外祖母对公爵夫人的孩子们丝毫不感兴趣，只想夸耀一下自己的外孙，她小心翼翼地从匣子底下拿出我的诗，打开来。“您想想看mon cous in，他前些天干了什么把戏呀……”
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①un qarcon gui promet：法语“是个前程远大的孩子。”
②mon cousin：法语“表哥”。
于是公爵夫人探过身来，兴致勃勃地对爸爸讲了起来。讲完我没有听清的那个故事，她就大笑起来，带着询问的神情望着爸爸的脸，说：
“什么样的孩子呀，mon cousin？他真该换一顿揍；但是那鬼把戏是那么聪明有趣，我只好饶了他，mon cousin。”
于是公爵夫人把眼光盯在外祖母身上，一言不发，继续微笑着。
“难道你打自己的孩子吗，我亲爱的？”外祖母问，意味深长地扬起眉毛，特别着重打这个字。
“啊，ma bonne tante，”公爵夫人很快地扫了爸爸、眼，就用和善的声调回答说，“我知道您对这事怎么看法，但是在这点上我同您的看法不同。尽管对这问题我曾经在左思右想，。看过好多书，也向人家请教过，但是我的经验使我得出结论，用恐吓来管教孩子是必要的。如果要孩子有出息，就要吓唬他……不是吗，mo ncousin？ie voucdemande un peu ① ，还有比树条更让孩子害怕的东西吗？”
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①je vous demande unpeu：法语“请问”。
说着她用疑问的眼光瞅了瞅我们，老实说，不知怎地，我当时心里很不舒眼。
“随便怎么说，一个十二岁的小子，甚至十四岁的小子，总还是个孩子；至于姑娘们，那就是另外一回事了。”
“幸亏我不是她的儿子。”我暗自思索。
“是的，那好极啦，我的亲爱的，”外祖母说，把我的诗卷起来，放在匣子底下，好象她认为公爵夫人说了这话以后就不配欣赏这样的作品了。“那太好啦，不过请您说说，在这以后，您还怎么能要求您的孩子对您有好感呢？”
外祖母认为这个论证是不容反驳的，为了结束这场谈话，她就补充说
“不过，在这件事上，各有各的看法。”
公爵夫人没有回答，只是宽容地笑了笑，好象以此表示，她原谅她十分尊敬的人所抱的这种怪诞的成见。
“嗅，让我同你们的年青人认识认识吧。”她说，带着温和可亲的微笑望着我们。
我们站起来，凝视着公爵夫人的脸，不知怎么来行这个见面礼。
“吻公爵夫人的手呀。”爸爸说。
“请爱你们的老姑母吧，”她说，吻着沃洛佳的头发。“虽然我是你们的远亲，但是我重视友谊的关系，而不重视远近的程度，”她补充说，主要是对外祖母讲的；但是外祖母还是不满意她，回答说：
“唉，我的亲爱的，难道如今还把这样的亲戚放在眼里吗？”
“我这个孩于会成为善于交际的年青人，”爸爸指着沃洛佳说，“这一个是个诗人，”他补充一句说，这时恰好我在吻公爵夫人的枯干的小手，仿佛历历在目地想象着那只手里的树条，树条下面的凳子，以及诸如此类的东酉。
“哪一个？”公爵夫人问，拉住我的胳臂。
“这个小的，头上竖着一撮毛的。”爸爸喜笑颜开地回答说。
“我那撮毛跟他有什么关系……难道没有别的话讲吗？”我想道，于是向角落走去。
我对于美抱着最奇怪的概念，甚至认为卡尔•伊凡内奇是世界第一美男子；但是我清清楚楚地知道，我长得不好看，这一点我丝毫也没有弄错，因此一提我的外表，我就感到莫大的侮辱。
我记得清清楚楚，有一次吃午饭的时候，那时我六岁，他们议论到我的外表，妈妈极力要在我的脸上找出一些美的地方，说我长着聪明的眼睛，笑起来讨人喜欢，但是，最后还是对爸爸的论证和显然的事实让步，不得不承认我长得难看；后来，当我为了那顿午餐感谢她的时候，她拍拍我的脸蛋说：
“记住，尼古连卡，没有人会因为你的相貌爱你；因此你要努力做个聪明的好孩子。”
这些话不仅使我确信我不是一个美男子，而且也使我相信我一定会做个聪明的好孩子。
虽然如此，我还是时常悲观失望：我想象，一个象我这样长着大鼻子、厚嘴唇和灰色小眼睛的人，在世界上是不会得到幸福的；我请求上帝创造奇迹，使我变成美男子，我情愿牺牲我现有的一切和将来能有的一切，来换取一张好看的面孔。
Chapter 18 Prince Ivan Ivanovitch
When the Princess had heard my verses and overwhelmed the writer of them with praise, Grandmamma softened to her a little. She began to address her in French and to cease calling her "my dear." Likewise she invited her to return that evening with her children. This invitation having been accepted, the Princess took her leave. After that, so many other callers came to congratulate Grandmamma that the courtyard was crowded all day long with carriages.
"Good morning, my dear cousin," was the greeting of one guest in particular as he entered the room and kissed Grandmamma's hand, He was a man of seventy, with a stately figure clad in a military uniform and adorned with large epaulettes, an embroidered collar, and a white cross round the neck. His face, with its quiet and open expression, as well as the simplicity and ease of his manners, greatly pleased me, for, in spite of the thin half-circle of hair which was all that was now left to him, and the want of teeth disclosed by the set of his upper lip, his face was a remarkably handsome one.
Thanks to his fine character, handsome exterior, remarkable valour, influential relatives, and, above all, good fortune, Prince, Ivan Ivanovitch had early made himself a career. As that career progressed, his ambition had met with a success which left nothing more to be sought for in that direction. From his earliest youth upward he had prepared himself to fill the exalted station in the world to which fate actually called him later; wherefore, although in his prosperous life (as in the lives of all) there had been failures, misfortunes, and cares, he had never lost his quietness of character, his elevated tone of thought, or his peculiarly moral, religious bent of mind. Consequently, though he had won the universal esteem of his fellows, he had done so less through his important position than through his perseverance and integrity. While not of specially distinguished intellect, the eminence of his station (whence he could afford to look down upon all petty questions) had caused him to adopt high points of view. Though in reality he was kind and sympathetic, in manner he appeared cold and haughty--probably for the reason that he had forever to be on his guard against the endless claims and petitions of people who wished to profit through his influence. Yet even then his coldness was mitigated by the polite condescension of a man well accustomed to move in the highest circles of society. Well-educated, his culture was that of a youth of the end of the last century. He had read everything, whether philosophy or belles lettres, which that age had produced in France, and loved to quote from Racine, Corneille, Boileau, Moliere, Montaigne, and Fenelon. Likewise he had gleaned much history from Segur, and much of the old classics from French translations of them; but for mathematics, natural philosophy, or contemporary literature he cared nothing whatever. However, he knew how to be silent in conversation, as well as when to make general remarks on authors whom he had never read-- such as Goethe, Schiller, and Byron. Moreover, despite his exclusively French education, he was simple in speech and hated originality (which he called the mark of an untutored nature). Wherever he lived, society was a necessity to him, and, both in Moscow and the country he had his reception days, on which practically "all the town" called upon him. An introduction from him was a passport to every drawing-room; few young and pretty ladies in society objected to offering him their rosy cheeks for a paternal salute; and people even in the highest positions felt flattered by invitations to his parties.
The Prince had few friends left now like Grandmamma--that is to say, few friends who were of the same standing as himself, who had had the same sort of education, and who saw things from the same point of view: wherefore he greatly valued his intimate, long-standing friendship with her, and always showed her the highest respect.
I hardly dared to look at the Prince, since the honour paid him on all sides, the huge epaulettes, the peculiar pleasure with which Grandmamma received him, and the fact that he alone, seemed in no way afraid of her, but addressed her with perfect freedom (even being so daring as to call her "cousin"), awakened in me a feeling of reverence for his person almost equal to that which I felt for Grandmamma herself.
On being shown my verses, he called me to his side, and said:
"Who knows, my cousin, but that he may prove to be a second Derzhavin?" Nevertheless he pinched my cheek so hard that I was only prevented from crying by the thought that it must be meant for a caress.
Gradually the other guests dispersed, and with them Papa and Woloda. Thus only Grandmamma, the Prince, and myself were left in the drawing-room.
"Why has our dear Natalia Nicolaevna not come to-day" asked the Prince after a silence.
"Ah, my friend," replied Grandmamma, lowering her voice and laying a hand upon the sleeve of his uniform, "she would certainly have come if she had been at liberty to do what she likes. She wrote to me that Peter had proposed bringing her with him to town, but that she had refused, since their income had not been good this year, and she could see no real reason why the whole family need come to Moscow, seeing that Lubotshka was as yet very young and that the boys were living with me--a fact, she said, which made her feel as safe about them as though she had been living with them herself."
"True, it is good for the boys to be here," went on Grandmamma, yet in a tone which showed clearly that she did not think it was so very good, "since it was more than time that they should be sent to Moscow to study, as well as to learn how to comport themselves in society. What sort of an education could they have got in the country? The eldest boy will soon be thirteen, and the second one eleven. As yet, my cousin, they are quite untaught, and do not know even how to enter a room."
"Nevertheless" said the Prince, "I cannot understand these complaints of ruined fortunes. He has a very handsome income, and Natalia has Chabarovska, where we used to act plays, and which I know as well as I do my own hand. It is a splendid property, and ought to bring in an excellent return."
"Well," said Grandmamma with a sad expression on her face, "I do not mind telling you, as my most intimate friend, that all this seems to me a mere pretext on his part for living alone, for strolling about from club to club, for attending dinner-parties, and for resorting to--well, who knows what? She suspects nothing; you know her angelic sweetness and her implicit trust of him in everything. He had only to tell her that the children must go to Moscow and that she must be left behind in the country with a stupid governess for company, for her to believe him! I almost think that if he were to say that the children must be whipped just as the Princess Barbara whips hers, she would believe even that!" and Grandmamma leant back in her arm-chair with an expression of contempt. Then, after a moment of silence, during which she took her handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe away a few tears which had stolen down her cheeks, she went, on:
"Yes, my friend, I often think that he cannot value and understand her properly, and that, for all her goodness and love of him and her endeavours to conceal her grief (which, however as I know only too well, exists). She cannot really he happy with him. Mark my words if he does not--" Here Grandmamma buried her face in the handkerchief.
"Ah, my dear old friend," said the Prince reproachfully. "I think you are unreasonable. Why grieve and weep over imagined evils? That is not right. I have known him a long time, and feel sure that he is an attentive, kind, and excellent husband, as well as (which is the chief thing of all) a perfectly honourable man."
At this point, having been an involuntary auditor of a conversation not meant for my ears, I stole on tiptoe out of the room, in a state of great distress.
 
当公爵夫人听了那首诗，对作者大加赞扬的时候，外祖母的脸色变得温和了，开始同她说法国话，不再称她您，我的亲爱的，而且请她晚上把所有的孩子都带到我们家来。公爵夫人表示同意，又坐了一会儿，就坐车走了。
那天真是宾客盈门，院子里，大门口，整个上午总有几辆马车同时停在那里。
“Bonjour，chere cousine ① ，”有一个客人走进屋，吻着外祖母的手说。
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①Bonjour，chere cousine：法语“您好，亲爱的表妹”。
这是个七十来岁的人，身材高大，穿着军装，佩着大肩章，领口下面露出一只很大的白色十字架，神色平静而坦然。他那种豪爽随便的举动使我很惊异。虽然他的后脑勺上只剩下稀稀拉拉的半圈头发，虽然他的上嘴唇的样子已经清楚地说明他掉了牙，但是他的相貌依旧漂亮极了。
上世纪末叶，伊凡•伊凡内奇由于他的高尚的性格、漂亮的仪表、过人的勇气、权贵的亲戚，特别是由于他的好运气，使他在还很年轻的时候就飞黄腾达起来。他继续服务，不久他就名利双收，在这方面不再有什么希求了。从小他的举止就仿佛他已准备在社会交界占有后来命运给他安排的显赫的地位；因此，虽然在他那显赫的、有些讲究虚荣的一生中，象所有别人一样，也有过不幸、失望和悔恨，但是他从来没有改变过他那始终非常泰然自若的风度、他那崇高的思想方式、他那基本的宗教和道德原则。他赢得普遍的尊敬，并不是由于他的显赫地位，而是由干他那始终如一的言行和不屈不挠的精神。他并不太聪明，但是由于他的地位使他能看不起人生的一切虚荣，因而他的思想是崇高的。他心地善良，富于感情，但是待人接物却那么冷淡，而且有几分傲慢。这是由于他处的地位可以对许多人都有所帮助，因此他极力用冷淡的态度来自卫，来抵挡那种净想依仗他的势力的人们的不住的纠缠和花言巧语。然而，这种冷淡却由于上流社会人物的彬彬有礼的风度而冲淡了。他很有教养，博学多识；但是他的教养只是在年青时，也就是上世纪末得到的。他读过十八世纪法国哲学和修辞学方面所有的好作品，熟谙法国文学中所有的优秀作品，因此他常常能够而且喜欢引用拉辛 ① 、高乃依、布瓦洛、莫里哀、蒙泰涅和费纳龙的词句；他通晓神话学，而且根据法文译本研究过古代著名史诗，颇有心得；对历史有充分的知识，这是他从塞格尔那里得来的；但是除了算术而外，他对数学一无所知，对物理和现代文学更是一窍不通。在谈话中他知道怎样沉默寡言，或者对歌德、席勒和拜伦泛泛地评论几句，但是他从来没有读过他的作品。尽管他受过这种古典的法国教育（这种类型的人现在已经如凤毛麟角了），但是他的谈吐总是平易近人的，这种单纯既掩饰了他对某些事物的无知，也表现了他的良好风度和宽容。他非常仇恨一切别出心裁的见解，说别出心裁是没有教养的人的狡猾手段。社交对于他是不可缺少的，无论他住在哪儿，在莫斯科或者在国外，他总是非常好客，在一定的日子招待全城。他在城里交游极广，人们甚至可以拿他的请贴当作进入任何客厅的出入证。许多年轻美貌的妇女心甘情愿地把红润的脸颊献给他，而他就仿佛慈父一样地吻一吻；有些显然十分重要和体面的人物在被准许参加公爵的招待会时，那份高兴是难以形容的。
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①拉辛（1639-1690）：和下面所说的高乃依（1606-1684）、布瓦洛（1636-1711）、莫里哀（1622-1673）、蒙泰涅（1533-1692）。费纳龙（1651一1715）、塞格尔（1780-1873）均为法国作家。塞格尔也是外交家和历史学家。
象外祖母这样，和他属于同一圈子里，受过同样教育，见解相同，年龄相仿的人，对公爵来说已经寥寥无几了；因此他特别重视他同她的老交情，总是向她表示很大的敬意。
我目不转睛地望着公爵：大家对他表示的敬意、他的大肩章、外祖母看见他时流露出来的特别的喜悦，以及显然只有他一个人不怕她，同她相处十分随便，甚至胆敢称呼她ma cousine，这一切使我对他怀着与对外祖母同样的敬意，如果不是更多的话。让他看我的诗的时候，他把我叫到跟前，说：
“怎么能知道呢，ma cousine，也许他会是杰尔查文第二呀！”
说着，他狠狠地捏了我的脸蛋一把，如果说我没有大叫起来，那只是因为我猜想这是爱抚的表示。
客人们散去了。爸爸和沃洛佳走出屋去；客厅里只剩下公爵、外祖母和我。
“为什么我们那可爱的娜达丽雅•尼古拉耶芙娜没有来？”停顿了片刻以后，伊凡•伊凡内奇公爵突然问道。
“Ah！mon cher， ① ”外祖母压低了声音回答说，把手放在他的制服袖口上，“要是她能随心所欲的话，她一定会来的。她给我的信上说：‘彼埃尔劝她来，但是她自己不肯来，因为他们今年一年一点没有进项；’她又说：‘况且，我今年用不着带着全家到莫斯科来。柳博奇卡还太小，至于男孩子们，可以住在您那里，那比他们跟我在一起，我还放心哩。’“这一切自然很好罗！”外祖母接下去说，她的口气清清楚楚表现出她觉得这一点也不好。“男孩子们早就应该送到这儿来，好让他们能够学点东西，习惯社交界的情况；要不然，在乡下他们能受到什么教育？……要知道，大的快十三岁，另一个十一岁了……您看看， mon cousin，他们在这里完全象野孩子……连怎么进客厅都不会。”
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①“Ah！mon cher”：法语“唉！我的亲爱的。”
“不过，我不明白，”公爵回答说，“为什么老抱怨家境不好？他有一份很大的家业，对于娜达丽雅的哈巴洛夫卡（过去你我曾在那儿演过戏），我是了若指掌的，那份领地好极了，一向有可观的收入。”
“我把您当作知己，对您讲讲吧，”外祖母带着忧伤的神情，打断他的话头说，“我觉得，这只是借口，让他可以单身住在这儿，常去俱乐部、赴宴会和干些天晓得的勾当；而她却丝毫也不怀疑。您知道她那天使一般的善良，她一切都相信他。他使她相信，孩子们应当带到莫斯科，她应当跟那个愚蠢的家庭女教师留在乡下—— 而她也就相信了。如果他对她讲，孩子们应当象瓦尔瓦拉•伊里尼契娜打她的孩子们一样挨打，我想连这个她也会同意的，”外祖母说，带着十分轻蔑的神色在安乐椅上转动着。“是的，我的朋友，”她停顿了一会儿，又接下去说，拿起她那两块手帕中的一块，来擦流出来的一滴眼泪，“我时常想，他既不重视她，也不了解她，尽管她心地善良，她爱他，她极力掩饰自己的悲哀，这一点我知道得很清楚，她跟他在一起是不会幸福的。记住我的话，如果他不……”
外祖母用手帕捂住脸。
“Eh！ma bonne amie， ① ”公爵用责备的口吻说，“我看，您一点也没有变得更明智，您总是自寻烦恼，为了想像出来的伤心事哭泣。哦，您不难为情吗？我早就认识他了，晓得他是个殷勤周到、善于体贴的、出色的丈夫，主要的是——一个非常高尚的人，un parfait honnete homme ② 。”
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①“Eh！ma bonne amie”：法语“唉！我的好朋友。”
②un barfaie nonnete homme：法语“一个非常正派的人”。
无意中听到一场我不该听的话以后，我就踮着脚从屋里溜出去，心情非常激动。
Chapter 19 The Iwins
"Woloda, Woloda! The Iwins are just coming." I shouted on seeing from the window three boys in blue overcoats, and followed by a young tutor, advancing along the pavement opposite our house.
The Iwins were related to us, and of about the same age as ourselves. We had made their acquaintance soon after our arrival in Moscow. The second brother, Seriosha, had dark curly hair, a turned-up, strongly pronounced nose, very bright red lips (which, never being quite shut, showed a row of white teeth), beautiful dark-blue eyes, and an uncommonly bold expression of face. He never smiled but was either wholly serious or laughing a clear, merry, agreeable laugh. His striking good looks had captivated me from the first, and I felt an irresistible attraction towards him. Only to see him filled me with pleasure, and at one time my whole mental faculties used to be concentrated in the wish that I might do so. If three or four days passed without my seeing him I felt listless and ready to cry. Awake or asleep, I was forever dreaming of him. On going to bed I used to see him in my dreams, and when I had shut my eyes and called up a picture of him I hugged the vision as my choicest delight. So much store did I set upon this feeling for my friend that I never mentioned it to any one. Nevertheless, it must have annoyed him to see my admiring eyes constantly fixed upon him, or else he must have felt no reciprocal attraction, for he always preferred to play and talk with Woloda. Still, even with that I felt satisfied, and wished and asked for nothing better than to be ready at any time to make any sacrifice for him. Likewise, over and above the strange fascination which he exercised upon me, I always felt another sensation, namely, a dread of making him angry, of offending him, of displeasing him. Was this because his face bore such a haughty expression, or because I, despising my own exterior, over-rated the beautiful in others, or, lastly (and most probably), because it is a common sign of affection? At all events, I felt as much fear, of him as I did love. The first time that he spoke to me I was so overwhelmed with sudden happiness that I turned pale, then red, and could not utter a word. He had an ugly habit of blinking when considering anything seriously, as well as of twitching his nose and eyebrows. Consequently every one thought that this habit marred his face. Yet I thought it such a nice one that I involuntarily adopted it for myself, until, a few days after I had made his acquaintance, Grandmamma suddenly asked me whether my eyes were hurting me, since I was winking like an owl! Never a word of affection passed between us, yet he felt his power over me, and unconsciously but tyrannically, exercised it in all our childish intercourse. I used to long to tell him all that was in my heart, yet was too much afraid of him to be frank in any way, and, while submitting myself to his will, tried to appear merely careless and indifferent. Although at times his influence seemed irksome and intolerable, to throw it off was beyond my strength.
I often think with regret of that fresh, beautiful feeling of boundless, disinterested love which came to an end without having ever found self-expression or return. It is strange how, when a child, I always longed to be like grown-up people, and yet how I have often longed, since childhood's days, for those days to come back to me! Many times, in my relations with Seriosha, this wish to resemble grown-up people put a rude check upon the love that was waiting to expand, and made me repress it. Not only was I afraid of kissing him, or of taking his hand and saying how glad I was to see him, but I even dreaded calling him "Seriosha" and always said "Sergius" as every one else did in our house. Any expression of affection would have seemed like evidence of childishness, and any one who indulged in it, a baby. Not having yet passed through those bitter experiences which enforce upon older years circumspection and coldness, I deprived myself of the pure delight of a fresh, childish instinct for the absurd purpose of trying to resemble grown-up people.
I met the Iwins in the ante-room, welcomed them, and then ran to tell Grandmamma of their arrival with an expression as happy as though she were certain to be equally delighted. Then, never taking my eyes off Seriosha, I conducted the visitors to the drawing-room, and eagerly followed every movement of my favourite. When Grandmamma spoke to and fixed her penetrating glance upon him, I experienced that mingled sensation of pride and solicitude which an artist might feel when waiting for revered lips to pronounce a judgment upon his work.
With Grandmamma's permission, the Iwins' young tutor, Herr Frost, accompanied us into the little back garden, where he seated himself upon a bench, arranged his legs in a tasteful attitude, rested his brass-knobbed cane between them, lighted a cigar, and assumed the air of a man well-pleased with himself. He was a, German, but of a very different sort to our good Karl Ivanitch. In the first place, he spoke both Russian and French correctly, though with a hard accent Indeed, he enjoyed--especially among the ladies--the reputation of being a very accomplished fellow. In the second place, he wore a reddish moustache, a large gold pin set with a ruby, a black satin tie, and a very fashionable suit. Lastly, he was young, with a handsome, self-satisfied face and fine muscular legs. It was clear that he set the greatest store upon the latter, and thought them beyond compare, especially as regards the favour of the ladies. Consequently, whether sitting or standing, he always tried to exhibit them in the most favourable light. In short, he was a type of the young German- Russian whose main desire is to be thought perfectly gallant and gentlemanly.
In the little garden merriment reigned. In fact, the game of
"robbers" never went better. Yet an incident occurred which came near to spoiling it. Seriosha was the robber, and in pouncing upon some travellers he fell down and knocked his leg so badly against a tree that I thought the leg must be broken. Consequently, though I was the gendarme and therefore bound to apprehend him, I only asked him anxiously, when I reached him, if he had hurt himself very much. Nevertheless this threw him into a passion, and made him exclaim with fists clenched and in a voice which showed by its faltering what pain he was enduring, "Why, whatever is the matter? Is this playing the game properly? You ought to arrest me. Why on earth don't you do so?" This he repeated several times, and then, seeing Woloda and the elder Iwin (who were taking the part of the travellers) jumping and running about the path, he suddenly threw himself upon them with a shout and loud laughter to effect their capture. I cannot express my wonder and delight at this valiant behaviour of my hero. In spite of the severe pain, he had not only refrained from crying, but had repressed the least symptom of suffering and kept his eye fixed upon the game! Shortly after this occurrence another boy, Ilinka Grap, joined our party. We went upstairs, and Seriosha gave me an opportunity of still further appreciating and taking delight in his manly bravery and fortitude. This was how it was.
Ilinka was the son of a poor foreigner who had been under certain obligations to my Grandpapa, and now thought it incumbent upon him to send his son to us as frequently as possible. Yet if he thought that the acquaintance would procure his son any advancement or pleasure, he was entirely mistaken, for not only were we anything but friendly to Ilinka, but it was seldom that we noticed him at all except to laugh at him. He was a boy of thirteen, tall and thin, with a pale, birdlike face, and a quiet, good-tempered expression. Though poorly dressed, he always had his head so thickly pomaded that we used to declare that on warm days it melted and ran down his neck. When I think of him now, it seems to me that he was a very quiet, obliging, and good- tempered boy, but at the time I thought him a creature so contemptible that he was not worth either attention or pity.
Upstairs we set ourselves to astonish each other with gymnastic tours de force. Ilinka watched us with a faint smile of admiration, but refused an invitation to attempt a similar feat, saying that he had no strength.
Seriosha was extremely captivating. His face and eyes glowed with laughter as he surprised us with tricks which we had never seen before. He jumped over three chairs put together, turned somersaults right across the room, and finally stood on his head on a pyramid of Tatistchev's dictionaries, moving his legs about with such comical rapidity that it was impossible not to help bursting with merriment.
After this last trick he pondered for a moment (blinking his eyes as usual), and then went up to Ilinka with a very serious face.
"Try and do that," he said. "It is not really difficult."
Ilinka, observing that the general attention was fixed upon him, blushed, and said in an almost inaudible voice that he could not do the feat.
"Well, what does he mean by doing nothing at all? What a girl the fellow is! He has just GOT to stand on his head," and Seriosha, took him by the hand.
"Yes, on your head at once! This instant, this instant!" every one shouted as we ran upon Ilinka and dragged him to the dictionaries, despite his being visibly pale and frightened.
"Leave me alone! You are tearing my jacket!" cried the unhappy victim, but his exclamations of despair only encouraged us the more. We were dying with laughter, while the green jacket was bursting at every seam.
Woloda and the eldest Iwin took his head and placed it on the dictionaries, while Seriosha, and I seized his poor, thin legs (his struggles had stripped them upwards to the knees), and with boisterous, laughter held them uptight--the youngest Iwin superintending his general equilibrium.
Suddenly a moment of silence occurred amid our boisterous laughter--a moment during which nothing was to be heard in the room but the panting of the miserable Ilinka. It occurred to me at that moment that, after all, there was nothing so very comical and pleasant in all this.
"Now, THAT'S a boy!" cried Seriosha, giving Ilinka a smack with his hand. Ilinka said nothing, but made such desperate movements with his legs to free himself that his foot suddenly kicked Seriosha in the eye: with the result that, letting go of Ilinka's leg and covering the wounded member with one hand, Seriosha hit out at him with all his might with the other one. Of course Ilinka's legs slipped down as, sinking exhausted to the floor and half-suffocated with tears, he stammered out:
"Why should you bully me so?"
The poor fellow's miserable figure, with its streaming tears, ruffled hair, and crumpled trousers revealing dirty boots, touched us a little, and we stood silent and trying to smile,
Seriosha was the first to recover himself.
"What a girl! What a gaby!" he said, giving Ilinka a slight kick. "He can't take things in fun a bit. Well, get up, then."
"You are an utter beast! That's what YOU are!" said Ilinka, turning miserably away and sobbing.
"Oh, oh! Would it still kick and show temper, then?" cried Seriosha, seizing a dictionary and throwing it at the unfortunate boy's head. Apparently it never occurred to Ilinka to take refuge from the missile; he merely guarded his head with his hands.
"Well, that's enough now," added Seriosha, with a forced laugh. "You DESERVE to be hurt if you can't take things in fun. Now let's go downstairs."
I could not help looking with some compassion at the miserable creature on the floor as, his face buried in the dictionary, he lay there sobbing almost as though he were in a fit.
"Oh, Sergius!" I said. "Why have you done this?"
"Well, you did it too! Besides, I did not cry this afternoon when I knocked my leg and nearly broke it."
"True enough," I thought. "Ilinka is a poor whining sort of a chap, while Seriosha is a boy--a REAL boy."
It never occurred to my mind that possibly poor Ilinka was suffering far less from bodily pain than from the thought that five companions for whom he may have felt a genuine liking had, for no reason at all, combined to hurt and humiliate him.
I cannot explain my cruelty on this occasion. Why did I not step forward to comfort and protect him? Where was the pitifulness which often made me burst into tears at the sight of a young bird fallen from its nest, or of a puppy being thrown over a wall, or of a chicken being killed by the cook for soup?
Can it be that the better instinct in me was overshadowed by my affection for Seriosha and the desire to shine before so brave a boy? If so, how contemptible were both the affection and the desire! They alone form dark spots on the pages of my youthful recollections.
 
“沃洛佳，沃洛佳！伊文家的孩子们来了！”我从窗口看到三个穿着水獭皮领的蓝大衣的男孩子，就喊叫道。他们跟着一个漂亮的年青教师，从对面的人行道向我们家走来。
伊文家的孩子们是我们的亲戚，和我们年纪相仿；我们到莫斯科不久就同他们熟识了，跟他们很合得来。
伊文家的第二个孩子，谢辽沙，是一个皮肤黝黑的鬈发男孩，长着倔强的小小的翘鼻子，十分鲜润的红嘴唇很少能完全盖住他那有点突出的洁白的上牙，深蓝色的眼睛非常漂亮，面部表情异常活泼。他从来不微笑，不是显得非常严肃，就是尽情大笑，发出一种响亮、清脆、非常动人的笑声。乍一见，他那独特的美就使我吃惊；我情不自禁地被他迷住了。看见他就足以使我高兴；有个时期，我的全副精力都集中到这种愿望上，隔三、四天不见他，我就感到寂寞，忧郁得要哭。我的一切梦想，不管是醒着还是做梦，都是关于他的。临睡前，我希望梦见他；合上眼睛，我就看见他在我面前，我把这种幻想当作最大的乐趣。这种感情我不能向世上的任何人吐露，我是那么珍重它。也许因为他讨厌我那不安的眼神不断地凝视他，或者只是因为他对我并没有好感，他分明更愿意跟沃洛佳玩耍和聊天，而不愿意同我在一起；尽管如此，我还是心满意足，毫无奢望，毫无所求，情愿为他牺牲一切。除了他在我心头引起的这种热情的迷恋以外，他一来还在我心中引起另一种同样强烈的情绪，那就是怕惹他不快，怕得罪他，或者使他不高兴。也许因为他脸上有一种傲慢的神情，或者因为我瞧不起自己的外表，过分重视别人美的优点，或者更确切地说，因为这是爱的必然征侯，我多么爱他，就多么怕他。谢辽沙第一次同我讲话时，我因为受宠若惊，脸上一阵红一阵白，什么也回答不上来。他有个坏习惯，在他想心事的时候，总把眼睛盯在一个地方，翘着鼻子，扬着眉毛，一个劲儿地眨眼睛。大家都觉得，他的这种习惯大大损坏了他的容貌，但是我却觉得这是那么可爱，不由得也养成了同样的习惯，我同他认识了几天之后，外祖母就问我是不是眼睛疼，因为我象只猫头鹰似地眨着眼睛。我们之间没有谈过一句爱慕的话；但是他感觉到他有力量控制我，于是就在我们童稚的关系上，不自觉地，但是暴虐地运用这种权力；而我，尽管渴望向他倾吐心曲，但是因为太怕他，不敢公开说出来；只装出好象不在意的样子，毫无怨言地服从他。有时我觉得他的权威太大，令人难以忍受；但是我却无力摆脱。
这种无私的、无限的、新鲜而美好的感情，没有倾吐出来，没有获得同情就破灭了，想起来真令人难过。
奇怪的是，不知为什么在我小的时候，我极力装得象个大人；而当我已经不再是小孩的时候，我又希望象个孩子。在同谢辽沙的关系上，我不愿意象个孩子，这种愿望常遏止了那种要倾诉的感情，使我变得虚假起来。我不但不敢吻他（尽管有时我非常想这样做），不敢拉他的手，也不敢讲我看见他是多么高兴，甚至也不敢叫他谢辽沙，总是叫谢尔盖 ① ，这成了我们的规矩。每一种感情的流露都证明行为的幼稚，谁要犯这种过错，那他就还是个孩子。还没有尝到那种使成年人在待人接物上谨慎小心，冷酷无情的痛苦滋味，因为仅仅是出于要模仿大人的奇怪的愿望，我们就使自己失去了那种温柔的、天真眷恋的纯洁的快乐。
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①谢辽沙：谢尔盖的小名。
我在仆人房里就遇见伊文家的孩子们，向他们问好之后，就匆匆忙忙跑去通知外祖母，告诉她伊文家的人来了，我说话的口气，好象这消息一定会使她十分高兴似的。随后，就目不转睛地盯着谢辽沙，跟着他走进客厅，注视着他的一举一动。当外祖母说他长大了好多，用她那敏锐的眼光打量他的时候，我体会到那种又是害怕又是期待的心清，就象一个艺术家等待一位可敬的鉴赏家对他的作品下判断时的心清一样。
伊文家年青的家庭教师 Herr Frosl ① ，得到外祖母的许可，同我们一起到花园里去。他坐在绿凳子上，很神气地架起腿来，把他那包着青铜头的手杖挟在两腿中间，带着非常欣赏自己举止的人的神气，点上一支雪茄烟。
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①Herr Frost：德语“弗劳斯特先生”。
Herr Frost是德国人，但是与我们心地善良的卡尔•伊凡内奇完全不一样。首先，他俄语说得很正确，而法语发音却很糟；他在一般人中间，特别是在妇女中间，享有博学多识的名声。其次，他留着两撇红色小胡子，把围巾的两端塞到背带下面，在围巾上别着一杖红宝石扣针，他穿着一条闪光的、镶着饰带的淡蓝色裤子。第三，他很年青，仪表堂堂、沾沾自喜，长着两条优美的、肌肉发达的大腿。他分明特别看重最后这个优点，认为它对女性的吸引力是无法抗拒的，想必是为了这种目的，总是设法把他的腿摆在最惹人注目的地方，不论坐着或站着，总一个劲儿抖动着小腿肚。他是一个典型俄罗斯式的德国青年，一心想做风流人物和花花公子。
我们在花园里玩得有意思极了，捉强盗的游戏玩得再好也没有；但是出了一件事，几乎破坏了一切。谢辽沙做强盗：他追逐旅客的时候，绊了一跤，猛地把膝头撞在树干上，撞得那么厉害，我简直以为他把膝头撞碎了。尽管我是宪兵，我的责任是要逮住他，但我却走上前去，关切地问他痛不痛。谢辽沙很生我的气；他攥着拳头，顿着脚，用一种明明证实他懂得很痛的声音对我喊道：
“咳，这是怎么回事？怎么能这样玩法！喂，你为什么不捉我？你为什么不提我？”他说了好几遍，斜眼望着在小路上一边跳一边跑着、扮演旅客的沃洛佳和伊文家的老大；随后突然尖叫一声，大笑着跑去捉他们。
我无法表达这种英雄行为使我多么惊异和迷惑：尽管疼得要命，他不但没有哭一声，甚至没有露出疼痛的模样，一会儿都没有忘了游戏的事。
过了不久，当伊林卡•格拉普加入我们这一伙，我们在吃午饭前一起上楼去的时候，谢辽沙又有个机会以他那惊人的勇气和坚强的性格命名我倍加惊异，倍加迷惑。
伊林卡•格拉普是一个穷外国人的儿子，他父亲以前曾经在我外祖父家住过，受过他的恩惠，因此认为现在常常打发他的儿子来看望我们是他应尽的义务。如果他认为他的儿子同我们来往能够获得一些尊敬和乐趣，那他就大错特错了，因为我们不但不跟伊林卡要好，而且我们只有在想拿他寻开心的时候才理睬他。伊林卡•格拉普是个大约十三岁的男孩，身材瘦长，脸色苍白，脸长得象鸟脸，表情善良温顺。他衣着十分寒酸，可是头发却总涂着很厚一层生发油，以致我们相信，大晴天他头上的生发油一定会融化，会滴到他的短外套上。现在我回忆起他的时候，我觉得他是一个非常殷勤、安静善良的男孩；但是当时我却觉得他是那么一个不足挂齿的人，不值得同情，甚至不值得去想他。
玩完捉强盗的游戏，我们就上楼去，开始玩闹，互相炫耀种种体育上的玩艺。伊林卡带着胆怯而惊奇的笑容观看着我们，当我们邀请他也来露一手的时候，他就推托说他一点力气也没有。谢辽沙可爱极了；他脱掉短外套，容光焕发，眼睛闪闪发光，他不断地哈哈大笑，发明一些新把戏；跳过三把并排摆着的椅子，满屋子翻筋斗，把塔奇雪夫编的辞典摆在屋子中间当托架，在上面拿大顶，同时两只脚还做了一些滑稽得要命的动作，使人不能不发笑。玩过这最后一套把戏，他思索了一下，眨眨眼睛，带着十分正经的神情突然走到伊林卡面前，说：“试试这个吧，真的，这并不难。”格拉普见大家都注意看着他，脸就红了，用几乎听不见的声音说他怎么也做不来这个。
“哦，真的，他为什么一点也不愿意表演呢？他又不是个姑娘……一定要他拿个大顶！”
于是谢辽沙拉住他的手。
“一定，一定要拿个大顶！”我们异口同声喊道，把伊林卡包围起来，他那时显然吓了一跳，脸色发白了。我们揪住他的胳臂，把他拉到辞典那里。
“放开我，我自己来！你们会把我的衣眼撒破的！”那个不幸的受难者喊道。但是这种绝望的喊叫使人们更来劲。我们笑得要死。他的绿色短上衣的衣缝全都绽开了。
沃洛佳和伊文家的老大把他的头按下去，放在辞典上；我和谢辽沙就揪住那个可怜孩子的乱踢乱蹬的细腿，把他的裤腿卷到膝头上，大笑着把他的腿举上去，伊文家最小的孩子扶着他，使他的全身保持平衡。
大笑了一阵以后，我们突然都沉默下来，屋里是那么寂静，只听见可怜的格拉普沉重的喘息声。在这一瞬间，我完全不相信这一切是很好玩、很可笑的事。
“哦，现在你是个好汉了！”谢辽沙拍了他一巴掌说。
伊林卡默不作声，乱踢乱蹬，拚命要挣脱身子。在他不顾死活地乱踢乱蹬的当儿，他的鞋后跟猛地踢着了谢辽沙的眼睛，谢辽沙疼得立刻放下他的腿，一边捂住不由自主地落下泪来的眼睛，一边用力推了伊林卡一把。伊林卡不再由我们扶着，象一具没有生命的东西一样嘭的一声倒在地上，被泪水噎得只能嘟囔说：
“你们为什么欺侮我？”
可怜的伊林卡，满面泪痕，头发蓬乱，裤腿卷着，从裤腿下面露出他那没有擦油的靴筒，他这副惨相打动了我们的心；我们都默不作声了，极力勉强笑着。
首先镇静下来的是谢辽沙。
“老娘们！好哭的家伙！”他说，用脚轻轻地踢了踢伊林卡。“简直不能同他开玩笑……喂，得啦，起来吧！”
“我告诉你，你是个坏孩子！”伊林卡恶狠狠地说，走到一边，大声痛哭起来。
“哎呀，他用鞋后跟踢入，还破口大骂！”谢辽沙大叫一声，用手抓住那本辞典，就在那个不幸的男孩头上挥舞，那个男孩甚至都不想法自卫，只用手抱着头。
“瞧你！瞧你！要是他连开玩笑都不懂，我们就不要他……下楼去吧。”谢辽沙说着，不自然地笑了起来。
我同情地望了望那个可怜的男孩，他躺到地板上，把脸藏在辞典中间，哭得那么伤心，好象再哭一阵，那种使他全身抽搐的呜咽就会送他的命。
“唉，谢辽沙！”我对他说，“你为什么来这一手？”
“这很好啊！……今天我险些儿把骨头跌断了，我都没有哭。”
“是的，这是实情，”我暗自沉思，“伊林卡只不过是个好哭的家伙，而谢辽沙才是个好汉……他是个多么了不起的好汉啊！……”
我并没有考虑到，那个可怜的男孩所以哭，很可能不是因为肉体上的痛苦，而是因为他想到，也许是他很喜欢的这五个男孩，竟会无原无故地串通一气来憎恶人，欺侮他。
我简直无法说明我的行为是多么残酷。我为什么不走上前去，保护他，安慰他呢？我一看见一只从巢里被扔出去的小乌鸦，或者一只被扔到篱笆外的小狗，或者被小厨子捉去做汤的一只母鸡，就会哽咽着大声哭泣，现在把那份同情心丢到哪儿去了呢？
难道由于我对谢辽沙的爱和想在他的眼里显得跟他一样勇敢的愿望，这样美好的感情就被窒息了吗？这种爱和想充好汉的愿望毕竟是不值得羡慕的啊！它们在我童年的回忆上留下了唯一的污点。
Chapter 20 Preparations For The Party
To judge from the extraordinary activity in the pantry, the shining cleanliness which imparted such a new and festal guise to certain articles in the salon and drawing-room which I had long known as anything but resplendent, and the arrival of some musicians whom Prince Ivan would certainly not have sent for nothing, no small amount of company was to be expected that evening.
At the sound of every vehicle which chanced to pass the house I ran to the window, leaned my head upon my arms, and peered with impatient curiosity into the street.
At last a carriage stopped at our door, and, in the full belief that this must be the Iwins, who had promised to come early, I at once ran downstairs to meet them in the hall.
But, instead of the Iwins, I beheld from behind the figure of the footman who opened the door two female figures-one tall and wrapped in a blue cloak trimmed with marten, and the other one short and wrapped in a green shawl from beneath which a pair of little feet, stuck into fur boots, peeped forth.
Without paying any attention to my presence in the hall (although I thought it my duty, on the appearance of these persons to salute them), the shorter one moved towards the taller, and stood silently in front of her. Thereupon the tall lady untied the shawl which enveloped the head of the little one, and unbuttoned the cloak which hid her form; until, by the time that the footmen had taken charge of these articles and removed the fur boots, there stood forth from the amorphous chrysalis a charming girl of twelve, dressed in a short muslin frock, white pantaloons, and smart black satin shoes. Around her, white neck she wore a narrow black velvet ribbon, while her head was covered with flaxen curls which so perfectly suited her beautiful face in front and her bare neck and shoulders behind that I, would have believed nobody, not even Karl Ivanitch, if he, or she had told me that they only hung so nicely because, ever since the morning, they had been screwed up in fragments of a Moscow newspaper and then warmed with a hot iron. To me it seemed as though she must have been born with those curls.
The most prominent feature in her face was a pair of unusually large half-veiled eyes, which formed a strange, but pleasing, contrast to the small mouth. Her lips were closed, while her eyes looked so grave that the general expression of her face gave one the impression that a smile was never to be looked for from her: wherefore, when a smile did come, it was all the more pleasing.
Trying to escape notice, I slipped through the door of the salon, and then thought it necessary to be seen pacing to and fro, seemingly engaged in thought, as though unconscious of the arrival of guests.
BY the time, however, that the ladies had advanced to the middle of the salon I seemed suddenly to awake from my reverie and told them that Grandmamma was in the drawing room, Madame Valakhin, whose face pleased me extremely (especially since it bore a great resemblance to her daughter's), stroked my head kindly.
Grandmamma seemed delighted to see Sonetchka, She invited her to come to her, put back a curl which had fallen over her brow, and looking earnestly at her said, "What a charming child!"
Sonetchka blushed, smiled, and, indeed, looked so charming that I myself blushed as I looked at her.
"I hope you are going to enjoy yourself here, my love," said Grandmamma." Pray be as merry and dance as much as ever you can. See, we have two beaux for her already," she added, turning to Madame Valakhin, and stretching out her hand to me.
This coupling of Sonetchka and myself pleased me so much that I blushed again.
Feeling, presently, that, my embarrassment was increasing, and hearing the sound of carriages approaching, I thought it wise to retire. In the hall I encountered the Princess Kornakoff, her son, and an incredible number of daughters. They had all of them the same face as their mother, and were very ugly. None of them arrested my attention. They talked in shrill tones as they took off their cloaks and boas, and laughed as they bustled about-- probably at the fact that there were so many of them!
Etienne was a boy of fifteen, tall and plump, with a sharp face, deep-set bluish eyes, and very large hands and feet for his age. Likewise he was awkward, and had a nervous, unpleasing voice. Nevertheless he seemed very pleased with himself, and was, in my opinion, a boy who could well bear being beaten with rods.
For a long time we confronted one another without speaking as we took stock of each other. When the flood of dresses had swept past I made shift to begin a conversation by asking him whether it had not been very close in the carriage.
"I don't know," he answered indifferently. "I never ride inside it, for it makes me feel sick directly, and Mamma knows that. Whenever we are driving anywhere at night-time I always sit on the box. I like that, for then one sees everything. Philip gives me the reins, and sometimes the whip too, and then the people inside get a regular--well, you know," he added with a significant gesture "It's splendid then."
"Master Etienne," said a footman, entering the hall, "Philip wishes me to ask you where you put the whip."
"Where I put it? Why, I gave it back to him."
"But he says that you did not."
"Well, I laid it across the carriage-lamps!"
"No, sir, he says that you did not do that either. You had better confess that you took it and lashed it to shreds. I suppose poor Philip will have to make good your mischief out of his own pocket." The footman (who looked a grave and honest man) seemed much put out by the affair, and determined to sift it to the bottom on Philip's behalf.
Out of delicacy I pretended to notice nothing and turned aside, but the other footmen present gathered round and looked approvingly at the old servant.
"Hm--well, I DID tear it in pieces," at length confessed Etienne, shrinking from further explanations. "However, I will pay for it. Did you ever hear anything so absurd?" he added to me as he drew me towards the drawing-room.
"But excuse me, sir; HOW are you going to pay for it? I know your ways of paying. You have owed Maria Valericana twenty copecks these eight months now, and you have owed me something for two years, and Peter for--"
"Hold your tongue, will you! " shouted the young fellow, pale with rage "I shall report you for this."
"Oh, you may do so," said the footman. "Yet it is not fair, your highness," he added, with a peculiar stress on the title, as he departed with the ladies' wraps to the cloak-room. We ourselves entered the salon.
"Quite right, footman," remarked someone approvingly from the ball behind us.
Grandmamma had a peculiar way of employing, now the second person singular, now the second person plural, in order to indicate her opinion of people. When the young Prince Etienne went up to her she addressed him as "YOU," and altogether looked at him with such an expression of contempt that, had I been in his place, I should have been utterly crestfallen. Etienne, however, was evidently not a boy of that sort, for he not only took no notice of her reception of him, but none of her person either. In fact, he bowed to the company at large in a way which, though not graceful, was at least free from embarrassment.
Sonetchka now claimed my whole attention. I remember that, as I stood in the salon with Etienne and Woloda, at a spot whence we could both see and be seen by Sonetchka, I took great pleasure in talking very loud (and all my utterances seemed to me both bold and comical) and glancing towards the door of the drawing-room, but that, as soon as ever we happened to move to another spot whence we could neither see nor be seen by her, I became dumb, and thought the conversation had ceased to be enjoyable. The rooms were now full of people--among them (as at all children's parties) a number of elder children who wished to dance and enjoy themselves very much, but who pretended to do everything merely in order to give pleasure to the mistress of the house.
When the Iwins arrived I found that, instead of being as delighted as usual to meet Seriosha, I felt a kind of vexation that he should see and be seen by Sonetchka.
 
根据饭厅里引人注目的不平常的忙碌，根据客厅和大厅里我早就熟悉的全部物件都增添了一种新鲜和喜庆色彩的灿烂光辉，特别是根据伊凡•伊凡内奇公爵不会平白无故派来他的管弦乐队，根据这种种事实来判断，预料晚上会宾客盈门。
一听到路过的车辆声，我就跑到窗口，把手放到太阳穴和玻璃上，怀着急不可耐的好奇心向外张望。暮色苍茫，最初看不见窗外的一切景物，后来才渐渐分辨出来，正对面，那家早已熟悉的小店铺点着一盏灯；斜对面，是一幢大房子，楼下有两扇窗子露出了灯光；街道中间，有一辆载着两个乘客的弩马拉的马车，或者一辆缓步回家的空四轮马车；终于有一辆轿式马车赶到我们家门前，我完全肯定这是伊文家的人，因为他们答应早一点来；于是我就跑到前厅去迎接他们。然而，这不是伊文家的人，从打开车门的、穿着号衣的仆人的胳臂后面，出现了两个女人：一个身材高大，身穿貂皮领的蓝色大衣，另一个娇小玲珑，全身裹在绿披巾里，从技巾下面只露出她那穿着毛皮靴的小脚。她们丝毫也没有注意到我在前厅里，虽然我认为这两个女人进来时对她们行礼是我的义务，那个娇小的默默地走到高大的女人旁边，就站在她的前面。高大的女人把包住娇小的女人的整个头部的披巾解开，解开她的外衣，当那个穿号衣的仆人接过这些东西，脱掉她的毛皮靴子的时候，裹得紧紧的那个女人变成了一个十二岁的美丽姑娘，她穿着一身短短的敞领薄纱衣服，雪白的裤子，小小的黑鞋。她的白脖颈上围着一条黑天鹅绒的带子；她长着一头深棕色的望发，前面的鬈发和她的美丽小脸非常相称，后面的鬈发和裸露的肩头又那样相称，因此不论任何人告诉我，就是卡尔•伊凡内奇亲口告诉我说，头发这么鬈曲是因为一清早就用一片片的《莫斯科公报》卷起来，而且用很热的火剪烫过，我也不会相信。好象她生来就长着这么一头鬈发似的。
她脸上令人惊异的特点是她那大得出奇、半睁半闭的鼓眼睛，这双眼睛同她的小嘴形成奇异而悦目的对比。她的嘴抿着，她的眼神非常严肃，从她的整个面部表情看来，使人不能希望她会露出笑容，也正因为如此，她的笑容就更加迷人。
我极力不引起人们的注意，溜到大厅门口，我觉得必须踱来踱去，装出一副正在沉思、完全不知道客人们到来的神情。当两位客人走到大厅中间的时候，我仿佛醒悟似的，并脚行了个敬礼，告诉她们外祖母在客厅里。瓦拉希娜夫人和蔼地对我点了点头，我很喜欢她的面孔，特别是因为我觉得她同女儿索妮奇卡的相貌十分相像 ① 。
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①索妮奇卡：索菲亚的小名。
外祖母看见索妮奇卡好象很高兴，让她走近一些，理了理耷拉在她前额上的一绺鬈发，聚精会神地端详着她的面庞，说：“Quelle charmante enfant！” ① 。索妮奇卡微微一笑脸上泛出红晕，显得胜么妩媚动人，我望着她，脸也红了。
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①“Quelle charmante enfant！”：法语“多么迷人的孩子！”
“希望你在我家里不会感到无聊，我的宝贝，”外祖母说，托起她的下巴。“尽情取乐和跳舞吧。我们已经有了一位小姐和两个哥儿了，”她对瓦拉希娜夫人补充说，用手摸了我一下。
这种亲近使我非常愉快，因而又脸红了。
我感觉到自己的羞怯心情在不断增长，而且听到又有一辆马车到来的响声，于是我认为该退出去了。在前厅里，我见到柯尔纳科娃公爵夫人带着她的儿子和难以想象的一大群女儿来了。她的女儿们长相都一样，很象公爵夫人，很难看，因此一个也没有引起我的注意。在她们脱大衣和摘皮围巾时，她们忽然一起尖声尖气地说着话，乱作一团，笑着什么事情，大概是笑她们有那么多人。艾坚是个十五岁模样的男孩，身材高大肥胖，面容枯瘦，眼睛下面是发青的塌眼窝，按年龄说，手脚都嫌太大；他举止笨拙，嗓音难听，忽高忽低，但是好象非常自鸣得意，我想，这大概就是挨树条抽打的那个男孩。
我们面对面站了好久，一声不响地互相仔细打量着；随后我们走近一些，我想大概是打算接吻，但是又望了望彼此的脸色，不知怎地都改变了主意。当他所有的姐妹们衣服悉碎作响地从我们身边走过去时，为了找话说，我问他坐在马车里挤不挤。
“我不知道，”他漫不经心地回答我说，“你要知道，我从来也不坐马车，因为我一坐进去就不舒服，妈妈知道这一点。晚上我们出门的时候，我总坐在驭台上，那可有意思得多了，什么都看得见。菲力普让我赶车，有时我就接过鞭子来。这样赶车，你知道，有时候，”他富于表情地打着手势说，“妙极了！”
“少爷！”有一个仆人走进前厅说，“菲力普问您把鞭子放到哪儿了？”
“怎么问放到哪儿了？我还给他啦。”
“他说您没有还给他。”“
“哦，那就是挂车灯上了。”
“菲力普说也没有挂在车灯上……您最好还是承认，是您拿了把它丢了，为了您淘气，菲力普得自己掏腰包会赔偿，”那个怒冲冲的仆人接下去说，越来越激动了。
那个仆人看上去是个可敬的忧郁的人，非常热烈地袒护着菲力普，决定非把事情弄个水落石出不可。我不由地觉得，应该知趣一些，于是装出好象没有看到什么一样向一旁走去；但是在场的仆人们却完全不这样，他们更走近一些，带着赞许的神情望着那个老仆人。
“哦，丢了就丢了！”文坚说，避免作进一步的解释。“鞭子要花多少钱，回头由我来赔。这真可笑！”他添上一句说，走到我跟前，把我向客厅那边引去。
“不，请问少爷，您拿什么来赔呢？我知道您的赔法：您要偿还玛丽雅•瓦西里耶芙娜的二十个戈比已经有七个多月了；欠我的呢，我想也有一年多了，另外还有欠彼得鲁什卡的……”
“住嘴！”年青的公爵呵斥道，气得脸色铁青，“我没有别的话说了！”
“没有别的话了，没有别的话了！”仆人都囔说。“这可不好啊，少爷！”当我们走进大厅时，他特别富于表情地补充一句说，然后把大衣放到衣橱里去。
“真高明，真高明！”在我们身后，由前厅里传来一个称赞的声音。
外祖母有一种特殊的本领，会利用一定的口气和一定的情况，不是以第二人称多数就是用第二人称单数代名词来表达她对人们的看法。虽然她应用您和你与一般通用的说法相反，但是这种细微差别到了她的嘴里却具有一种完全特殊的意味。当小公爵走近她时，她对他说了三言两语，称呼他您，而且用那么轻视的眼光瞥了他一眼，要是我处在他的地位，一定会手足无措了；但是艾坚显然不是这种性格的孩子，他不但不注意外祖母怎样接待他，甚至对她本人也不注意，而是对大伙行了个礼，举止即使算不得灵巧，至少是十分随便的。索妮奇卡吸引住了我的全部注意力：我记得，当沃洛佳、文坚和我在大厅里可以看见索妮奇卡，而且她也能看见我们和听见我们说话的地方交谈时，我就谈得津津有味；碰巧我说到什么自以为很好笑或者很漂亮的言语时，我就放开嗓门，而且望着客厅的门；但是当我们移到另外一个地方，。从客厅里既看不到我们，也听不见我们说话的声音时，我就默默无言，对于谈话再也没有什么兴趣了。
客厅里和大厅里渐渐挤满了客人；他们中间，象儿童晚会上常有的情形一样，有些大孩子不愿意错过一场寻欢作乐和跳舞的机会，他们所以这样，好象只是为了讨女主人的欢心。
伊文家的孩子们到来时，我不但没有通常见到谢辽沙时所感到的那种乐趣，反而非常奇怪地生他的气，因为他要看看索妮奇卡，并且在她眼前显示一下自己。
Chapter 21 Before The Mazurka
"HULLO, Woloda! So we are going to dance to-night," said Seriosha, issuing from the drawing-room and taking out of his pocket a brand new pair of gloves. "I suppose it IS necessary to put on gloves? "
"Goodness! What shall I do? We have no gloves," I thought to myself. "I must go upstairs and search about." Yet though I rummaged in every drawer, I only found, in one of them, my green travelling mittens, and, in another, a single lilac-coloured glove, a thing which could be of no use to me, firstly, because it was very old and dirty, secondly, because it was much too large for me, and thirdly (and principally), because the middle finger was wanting--Karl having long ago cut it off to wear over a sore nail.
However, I put it on--not without some diffident contemplation of the blank left by the middle finger and of the ink-stained edges round the vacant space.
"If only Natalia Savishna had been here," I reflected, "we should certainly have found some gloves. I can't go downstairs in this condition. Yet, if they ask me why I am not dancing, what am I to say? However, I can't remain here either, or they will be sending upstairs to fetch me. What on earth am I to do?" and I wrung my hands.
"What are you up to here?" asked Woloda as he burst into the room. "Go and engage a partner. The dancing will be beginning directly."
"Woloda," I said despairingly, as I showed him my hand with two fingers thrust into a single finger of the dirty glove,
"Woloda, you, never thought of this."
"Of what? " he said impatiently. "Oh, of gloves," he added with a careless glance at my hand. "That's nothing. We can ask Grandmamma what she thinks about it," and without further ado he departed downstairs. I felt a trifle relieved by the coolness with which he had met a situation which seemed to me so grave, and hastened back to the drawing-room, completely forgetful of the unfortunate glove which still adorned my left hand.
Cautiously approaching Grandmamma's arm-chair, I asked her in a whisper:
"Grandmamma, what are we to do? We have no gloves."
"What, my love?"
"We have no gloves," I repeated, at the same time bending over towards her and laying both hands on the arm of her chair,
" But what is that? " she cried as she caught hold of my left hand. "Look, my dear! " she continued, turning to Madame Valakhin. "See how smart this young man has made himself to dance with your daughter!"
As Grandmamma persisted in retaining hold of my hand and gazing with a mock air of gravity and interrogation at all around her, curiosity was soon aroused, and a general roar of laughter ensued.
I should have been infuriated at the thought that Seriosha was present to see this, as I scowled with embarrassment and struggled hard to free my hand, had it not been that somehow Sonetchka's laughter (and she was laughing to such a degree that the tears were standing in her eyes and the curls dancing about her lovely face) took away my feeling of humiliation. I felt that her laughter was not satirical, but only natural and free; so that, as we laughed together and looked at one another, there seemed to begin a kind of sympathy between us. Instead of turning out badly, therefore, the episode of the glove served only to set me at my ease among the dreaded circle of guests, and to make me cease to feel oppressed with shyness. The sufferings of shy people proceed only from the doubts which they feel concerning the opinions of their fellows. No sooner are those opinions expressed (whether flattering or the reverse) than the agony disappears.
How lovely Sonetchka looked when she was dancing a quadrille as my vis-a-vis, with, as her partner, the loutish Prince Etienne! How charmingly she smiled when, en chaine, she accorded me her hand! How gracefully the curls, around her head nodded to the rhythm, and how naively she executed the jete assemble with her little feet!
In the fifth figure, when my partner had to leave me for the other side and I, counting the beats, was getting ready to dance my solo, she pursed her lips gravely and looked in another direction; but her fears for me were groundless. Boldly I performed the chasse en avant and chasse en arriere glissade, until, when it came to my turn to move towards her and I, with a comic gesture, showed her the poor glove with its crumpled fingers, she laughed heartily, and seemed to move her tiny feet more enchantingly than ever over the parquetted floor.
How well I remember how we formed the circle, and how, without withdrawing her hand from mine, she scratched her little nose with her glove! All this I can see before me still. Still can I hear the quadrille from "The Maids of the Danube" to which we danced that night.
The second quadrille, I danced with Sonetchka herself; yet when we went to sit down together during the interval, I felt overcome with shyness and as though I had nothing to say. At last, when my silence had lasted so long that I began to be afraid that she would think me a stupid boy, I decided at all hazards to counteract such a notion.
"Vous etes une habitante de Moscou?" I began, and, on receiving an affirmative answer, continued. "Et moi, je n'ai encore jamais frequente la capitale" (with a particular emphasis on the word "frequente"). Yet I felt that, brilliant though this introduction might be as evidence of my profound knowledge of the French language, I could not long keep up the conversation in that manner. Our turn for dancing had not yet arrived, and silence again ensued between us. I kept looking anxiously at her in the hope both of discerning what impression I had produced and of her coming to my aid.
"Where did you get that ridiculous glove of yours?" she asked me all of a sudden, and the question afforded me immense satisfaction and relief. I replied that the glove belonged to Karl Ivanitch, and then went on to speak ironically of his appearance, and to describe how comical he looked in his red cap, and how he and his green coat had once fallen plump off a horse into a pond.
The quadrille was soon over. Yet why had I spoken ironically of poor Karl Ivanitch? Should I, forsooth, have sunk in Sonetchka's esteem if, on the contrary, I had spoken of him with the love and respect which I undoubtedly bore him?
The quadrille ended, Sonetchka said, "Thank you," with as lovely an expression on her face as though I had really conferred, upon her a favour. I was delighted. In fact I hardly knew myself for joy and could not think whence I derived such case and confidence and even daring.
"Nothing in the world can abash me now," I thought as I wandered carelessly about the salon. "I am ready for anything."
Just then Seriosha came and requested me to be his vis-a-vis.
"Very well," I said. "I have no partner as yet, but I can soon find one."
Glancing round the salon with a confident eye, I saw that every lady was engaged save one--a tall girl standing near the drawing- room door. Yet a grown-up young man was approaching her-probably for the same purpose as myself! He was but two steps from her, while I was at the further end of the salon. Doing a glissade over the polished floor, I covered the intervening space, and in a brave, firm voice asked the favour of her hand in the quadrille. Smiling with a protecting air, the young lady accorded me her hand, and the tall young man was left without a partner. I felt so conscious of my strength that I paid no attention to his irritation, though I learnt later that he had asked somebody who the awkward, untidy boy was who, had taken away his lady from him.
 
“啊，看起来，你们要开舞会呀，”谢辽沙说，一边走出客厅，一边从口袋里掏出一副新羊皮手套。“我得戴上手套。”
“怎么办呢？我们没有手套，”我寻思。“我得到楼上去找一找。”
但是，我虽然翻遍了所有的抽屉，只在一个抽屉里找到了旅行用的绿色无指手套，在另一个抽屉里找到一只对我毫无用处的羊皮手套：第一，因为它非常旧，非常肮脏；其次，因为我戴起来太大，尤其是因为它缺了中指，想必是卡尔•伊凡内奇很早以前把它剪去包扎受伤的手了。但是，我还是戴上这只破手套，聚精会神地察看我那一向染着墨水的中指。
“要是娜达丽雅•萨维会娜在这儿就好了，她那里一定会找到手套的。我不能这样下楼去，因为他们如果问我为什么不跳舞，我可怎么回答呢？可是，我也不能待在这儿，因为他们一定会找我的。我可怎么办呢？”我挥着胳臂说。
“你在这儿做什么？”沃洛佳跑进来说。“去邀请一位小姐吧……就要开始了”
“沃洛佳，”我对他说，给他看看我那从脏手套里露出两个头的手，用濒于绝望的声调说。“沃洛佳，你也没有想到这个吧！”
“想到什么？”他不耐烦地说。“嗅，想到手套呀，”当他看见我的手时，毫不在意地补充说。“不错，我们没有。我们得去问外祖母……看她怎么说，”于是他不加思索，就跑下楼去了。
对待我觉得是那么得重大事件，他的态度是那么沉着，使我放下心来，我连忙跑进客厅，完全忘记了我左手戴着那只难看得要命的手套。
我小心翼翼地走到外祖母的安乐椅跟前，轻轻地拉了她的长袍，低声对她说：
“外婆，我们怎么办呀？我们没有手套！”
“什么，我的宝贝？”
“我们没有手套，”我重复了一遍，把身子凑得越来越近，并且把我的双手搭在安乐椅把手上。
“那末这是什么呢？”她说，突然一把抓住我的左手。“Voyez，ma chere ① ，”她接下去说，转向瓦拉希娜夫人。“Voyez comme cejeune homme s’est fait el egant
pour danser avee votre fille ② ”。
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①“Voyez，ma chere”：法语“您瞧，我的亲爱的。”
②“voyez comme ce jeune nomme s’est fait elegant pour danser ave e votrefille”：法语“看看这个青年人，为了同您的女儿跳舞，打扮得多么漂亮呀。”
外祖母紧紧握住我的手，带着疑问的神情十分严肃地望了望在座的人们，直到所有宾客的好奇心都得到满足，哄堂大笑为止。
要是谢辽沙看见我这样羞愧得双眉紧锁，想把手抽回又抽不回来，我一定会伤心死了，但是在笑得眼泪盈眶的、红晕的面孔周围的发鬈全都摆荡起来的索妮奇卡面前，我却丝毫也不觉得害羞。我明白，她的笑声太响，太自然了，不会含着讽刺的意味；恰．恰相反，我们一同笑着，四目相视的情况，似乎使我和她更加接近了。手套这段插曲，虽然可以成为笑柄，但它却给我带来一个好处，使我在这个我总觉得非常可怕的圈子——客厅的圈子——里很自在；在大厅里，我一点也不觉得得忸怩不安了。
怕羞的人的痛苦，是由于不知道人们对他的看法而产生的；这种看法一旦明确表达出来时（不论是好是坏），痛苦也就消失了。
当索妮奇卡•瓦拉希娜和那个蠢笨的小公爵在我对面跳法国卡德里尔舞时 ① ，她有多么美丽啊！当她在跳chaine的当儿 ② ，把小手伸给我的时候，她笑得多么可爱啊！她头上的棕色鬈发随着音乐的节拍颤动得多么迷人啊！她用小脚跳jete—assem—ble ③ 时，显得多么天真啊！跳到第五种姿势，我的舞伴离开我跑到对面，而我，等着拍子，准备独舞时，索妮奇卡严肃地抿着嘴，望着一边。但是她用不着为我担心：我勇敢地chasse
en avant，chasse enarriere，glissade ④ 。当我跳到她面前时，我顽皮地把露出两个指头的手套给她看看，她哈哈大笑起来，迈动双脚更优美地在镶花地板上小步快速地跳动着。我还记得，”当我们围成圆圈，手拉起手的时候，她低下头，并没有把手从我的手里抽走，就用她的手套擦擦那个小小的鼻子。这一切现在好象历历在目。我好象还听见当时所奏的《多瑙河的少女》中的卡德里尔舞曲，看到在乐声中发生的这一切情景。
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①卡德里尔舞：四个人组成两对来跳的一种舞。
②chaine：法语“连环”（一种跳舞步法）。
③jete-assem-ble：法语“齐步”。
④chasse enavant，chasse en arriere，glissade：法语“向前，向后，侧步”。
第二次卡德里尔舞开始了，索妮奇卡做我的舞伴。坐在她身边，我觉得难为情极了，简直不知道同她谈什么才好。当我沉默过久的时候，我唯恐她把我当作傻瓜，就决定无论如何要使她不要对我产生这种误会。“Vons etes une habitante de M osscou？” ① 。我问她，得到肯定的答复以后，我又接着说：“Et moi，jen’a i encorejamais frequente la capitale” ② ，我特别指望frequente ③ 这个字眼发生效果。然而我觉得，虽然这个开场非常出色，而且充分证明我精通法语，但是我却不能一直这样谈下去。轮到我们跳舞还有一些时间，我们又陷入沉默。我心神不安地望着她，希望知道我给她的是什么印象，而且希望得到她的帮助。“您从哪儿找到一只这么滑稽的手套？’她突如其来地问我；这个问题使这感到很大的兴趣，感到很轻松。我解释说，这只手套是卡尔•伊凡内奇的，并且添枝加叶，甚至带着一点讥笑的口吻谈到卡尔•伊凡内奇本人，说他摘下小红帽时显得多么可笑；他有一次穿着绿大衣跌下马来，正好摔到泥塘里；以及诸如此类的话。卡德里尔舞不知不觉跳完了。这一切都很好；但是我为什么要讥笑卡尔•伊凡内奇呢？要是我怀着实际上对他抱着的敬爱心情向索妮奇卡描绘他一下，难道我就会失去她的好感吗？
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①“vous etes une nabitante de Mos-cou？”：法语“您经常住在莫斯科吗？”
②Et moi，jen’ai encore jamais frequente la capitale：法语“可是我从来还没有访问过首都呢。”
③frequenta：法语“访问”。
跳完了卡德里尔舞，索妮奇卡带着那么可爱的表情对我说了声merci ① ，好象我真的值得她感谢一样。我喜不自胜，得意忘形，自己都不认识自己了：我哪儿来的这份勇气、信心、甚至厚脸皮呢？“什么都不能使我害羞！”我满不在乎地在大厅里走着，思索着。“我准备去干一切！”
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①merci：法语“谢谢”，
谢辽沙邀请我作他的vis—a—vis ① 。“好吧，”我说，“虽然我没有舞伴，我会找到的。”我用果断的眼光朝整个大厅扫视了一番，发现除了站在客厅门口的一个大姑娘而外，所有的姑娘都同人约好了。一个高大的青年朝她走过去，按我的推断，是去邀她跳舞的；他离她只有两步了，而我却在大厅另一头。转瞬之间，我优雅地在镶花地板上滑行着，滑过了我同她之间相隔的距离，并脚行了个敬礼，用坚决的声调邀请她跳一场卡德里尔舞。那个大姑娘，迁就地微微一笑，就把手伸给我，撇下了那个青年没有舞伴。
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①Vis-a一vis：法语“对舞者”。
我那么深刻地意识到自己的力量，以致毫不注意这位青年的懊丧；但是后来我听说，这位青年曾打听，那个从他身旁冲过去，在他眼前抢走舞伴的头发蓬乱的男孩是谁。
Chapter 22 The Mazurka
AFTERWARDS the same young man formed one of the first couple in a mazurka. He sprang to his feet, took his partner's hand, and then, instead of executing the pas de Basques which Mimi had taught us, glided forward till he arrived at a corner of the room, stopped, divided his feet, turned on his heels, and, with a spring, glided back again. I, who had found no partner for this particular dance and was sitting on the arm of Grandmamma's chair, thought to myself:
"What on earth is he doing? That is not what Mimi taught us. And there are the Iwins and Etienne all dancing in the same way- without the pas de Basques! Ah! and there is Woloda too! He too is adopting the new style, and not so badly either. And there is Sonetchka, the lovely one! Yes, there she comes!" I felt immensely happy at that moment.
The mazurka came to an end, and already some of the guests were saying good-bye to Grandmamma. She was evidently tired, yet she assured them that she felt vexed at their early departure. Servants were gliding about with plates and trays among the dancers, and the musicians were carelessly playing the same tune for about the thirteenth time in succession, when the young lady whom I had danced with before, and who was just about to join in another mazurka, caught sight of me, and, with a kindly smile, led me to Sonetchka And one of the innumerable Kornakoff princesses, at the same time asking me, "Rose or Hortie?"
"Ah, so it's YOU!" said Grandmamma as she turned round in her armchair. "Go and dance, then, my boy."
Although I would fain have taken refuge behind the armchair rather than leave its shelter, I could not refuse; so I got up, said, "Rose," and looked at Sonetchka. Before I had time to realise it, however, a hand in a white glove laid itself on mine, and the Kornakoff girl stepped forth with a pleased smile and evidently no suspicion that I was ignorant of the steps of the dance. I only knew that the pas de Basques (the only figure of it which I had been taught) would be out of place. However, the strains of the mazurka falling upon my ears, and imparting their usual impulse to my acoustic nerves (which, in their turn, imparted their usual impulse to my feet), I involuntarily, and to the amazement of the spectators, began executing on tiptoe the sole (and fatal) pas which I had been taught.
So long as we went straight ahead I kept fairly right, but when it came to turning I saw that I must make preparations to arrest my course. Accordingly, to avoid any appearance of awkwardness, I stopped short, with the intention of imitating the " wheel about"
which I had seen the young man perform so neatly.
Unfortunately, just as I divided my feet and prepared to make a spring, the Princess Kornakoff looked sharply round at my legs with such an expression of stupefied amazement and curiosity that the glance undid me. Instead of continuing to dance, I remained moving my legs up and down on the same spot, in a sort of extraordinary fashion which bore no relation whatever either to form or rhythm. At last I stopped altogether. Every-one was looking at me--some with curiosity, some with astonishment, some with disdain, and some with compassion, Grandmamma alone seemed unmoved.
"You should not dance if you don't know the step," said Papa's angry voice in my ear as, pushing me gently aside, he took my partner's hand, completed the figures with her to the admiration of every one, and finally led her back to, her place. The mazurka was at an end.
Ah me! What had I done to be punished so heavily?
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"Every one despises me, and will always despise me," I thought to myself. "The way is closed for me to friendship, love, and fame! All, all is lost!"
Why had Woloda made signs to me which every one saw, yet which could in no way help me? Why had that disgusting princess looked at my legs? Why had Sonetchka--she was a darling, of course!--yet why, oh why, had she smiled at that moment?
Why had Papa turned red and taken my hand? Can it be that he was ashamed of me?
Oh, it was dreadful! Alas, if only Mamma had been there she would never have blushed for her Nicolinka!
How on the instant that dear image led my imagination captive! I seemed to see once more the meadow before our house, the tall lime-trees in the garden, the clear pond where the ducks swain, the blue sky dappled with white clouds, the sweet-smelling ricks of hay. How those memories--aye, and many another quiet, beloved recollection--floated through my mind at that time!
 
被我抢走舞伴的那个青年，在马祖卡舞里跳第一对。他从座位上跳起来，拉住舞伴的手，不照米米教给我们的pas de Baspues ① 跳，却一直朝前跑去；跑到屋角，停下来，叉开腿，用鞋后跟跺地板，转个身，一边跳，一边朝前跑。
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①paS be Basgues：法语“巴斯克舞的步法”。
我因为跳马祖卡舞没有舞伴，就坐在外祖母的高背安乐椅后面观看。
“他搞的是什么名堂？”我暗自思量。“一点也不象米米教给我们的：她总是对我们说，跳马祖卡舞都用脚尖跳，使脚从容不迫地做圆形动作；而结果却完全不是那样的跳法。伊文家的人和艾坚，大家都在跳舞，谁也不跳Pas de Basques，连我们的沃洛佳，也学了新的跳法。这倒不错！……而索妮奇卡是多么可爱的人儿呀？！她到那边去了……”我觉得快乐极了。
马祖卡舞快结束了：有几个上了年纪的男人和太太前来同外祖母告别，坐车走了。仆人们躲闪着跳舞的人们，小心翼翼地往后面房间里端餐具。外祖母显然疲倦了，勉勉强强地说着话，声音拉得很长；乐队开始懒洋洋地奏那已经奏了第三十次的曲子。跟我跳过舞的那个大姑娘，跳花样时看到我，脸上堆着假笑，大概想借此来讨好外祖母，领着索妮奇卡和无数公爵小姐中的一位走到我跟前。“Rose ou ho utie？” ① 。她对我说。
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①“Rose ou hortie？”：法语“是玫瑰还是荨麻？”
“噢，你在这儿！”外祖母说，在安乐椅上转过身来。“去吧，亲爱的，去吧。”
虽然当时我宁愿整个藏在外祖母的椅子下面，也不愿从椅子后边走出来，但是怎么能拒绝呢？我站起来，说了声“rose”，就怯生生地望了索妮奇卡一眼。我还没有明白过来，一只戴白手套的手就放在我的手里了，公爵小姐笑盈盈地冲向前去，一点也没有料到我根本不懂怎么跳法。
我知道我跳pas de Basques是不适当的，不合礼仪的，甚至会完全使我丢脸；但是马祖卡舞熟悉的曲调对我的听觉起了作用，把熟悉的动作传给我的听觉神经，而听觉神经又把这运动传送到我的脚上；我的脚就完全不由自主地，踮着脚尖跳起那种莫名其妙、圆形的、滑行舞步来，全场观众看了都很惊异。我们一直往前跳时，还可以凑合一阵，但是该转弯的时候我就发现，如果我不小心在意，就一定会跑到前面去了。为了避免这种煞风景的事情，我稍稍停住脚步，打算依照领舞的那个青年所跳的优美舞步来跳个特别花样。但是我的脚刚一分开，准备跳跃，围着我飞快旋转的公爵小姐就带着茫然的好奇和惊异的神情瞅着我的脚。这种眼光使我万分狼狈！我心慌意乱，竟然不再跳舞了，却以最奇怪的姿态原地踏起步来，既不合拍，也不同任何东西协调，最后我完全停下来。所有的人都望着我，有的怀着惊异的神情，有的带着好奇的样子，有的露出嘲讽的笑容，又有的含着怜悯的神色；只有外祖母毫不在意在望着。
“Il ne fallait pas danser，si Vons ne savez pas！ ① ”爸爸在我耳边生气地说着，轻轻地把我推开，拉住我的舞伴的手，照古老的式样同她跳了一圈，在观众的喝彩声中，把她送到原位上。马祖卡舞立刻结束了。
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①“ll ne fallait Pas danser，si vous ne savez pas！”：法语“如果你不会跳，就不要跳”。
“天啊！你为什么这么厉害地惩罚我呀！”……
大家都看不起我，而且会永远看不起我……通往友谊、爱情、光荣等等的道路都给我堵上了……一切都完蛋了！沃洛佳干么向我做那些人人都看得见、而且对我毫无补益的手势呢？那个讨厌的公爵小姐为什么那样望了望我的脚呢？索妮奇卡干么……她是一个可爱的人儿；但是当时她为什么微微一笑呢？爸爸为什么脸红了，揪住我的胳臂？难道他也替我害羞吗？嗅，这太可怕了！要是妈妈在这儿，她就不会因为她的尼古连卡而脸红……于是我的想像远远地飞驰到这个可爱的形象那里去了。我想起房前那片草地和花园里高大的菩提树、上面有燕子盘旋的清澈的池塘、飘着透明的白云的蔚蓝色天空、一堆堆新割下来的芬芳的干草，另外，在我那烦恼的想像中，还出现了许许多多平静而愉快的回忆。
Chapter 23 After The Mazurka
At supper the young man whom I have mentioned seated himself beside me at the children's table, and treated me with an amount of attention which would have flattered my self-esteem had I been able, after the occurrence just related, to give a thought to anything beyond my failure in the mazurka. However, the young man seemed determined to cheer me up. He jested, called me "old boy," and finally (since none of the elder folks were looking at us) began to help me to wine, first from one bottle and then from another and to force me to drink it off quickly.
By the time (towards the end of supper) that a servant had poured me out a quarter of a glass of champagne, and the young man had straightway bid him fill it up and urged me to drink the beverage off at a draught, I had begun to feel a grateful warmth diffusing itself through my body. I also felt well-disposed towards my kind patron, and began to laugh heartily at everything. Suddenly the music of the Grosvater dance struck up, and every one rushed from the table. My friendship with the young man had now outlived its day; so, whereas he joined a group of the older folks, I approached Madame Valakhin hear what she and her daughter had to say to one another.
"Just HALF-an-hour more? " Sonetchka was imploring her.
"Impossible, my dearest."
"Yet, only to please me--just this ONCE? " Sonetchka went on persuasively.
"Well, what if I should be ill to-morrow through all this dissipation?" rejoined her mother, and was incautious enough to smile.
"There! You DO consent, and we CAN stay after all!" exclaimed Sonetchka, jumping for joy.
"What is to be done with such a girl?" said Madame. "Well, run away and dance. See," she added on perceiving myself, "here is a cavalier ready waiting for you."
Sonetchka gave me her hand, and we darted off to the salon, The wine, added to Sonetchka's presence and gaiety, had at once made me forget all about the unfortunate end of the mazurka. I kept executing the most splendid feats with my legs--now imitating a horse as he throws out his hoofs in the trot, now stamping like a sheep infuriated at a dog, and all the while laughing regardless of appearances.
Sonetchka also laughed unceasingly, whether we were whirling round in a circle or whether we stood still to watch an old lady whose painful movements with her feet showed the difficulty she had in walking. Finally Sonetchka nearly died of merriment when I jumped half-way to the ceiling in proof of my skill.
As I passed a mirror in Grandmamma's boudoir and glanced at myself I could see that my face was all in a perspiration and my hair dishevelled--the top-knot, in particular, being more erect than ever. Yet my general appearance looked so happy, healthy, and good-tempered that I felt wholly pleased with myself.
"If I were always as I am now," I thought, "I might yet be able to please people with my looks." Yet as soon as I glanced at my partner's face again, and saw there not only the expression of happiness, health, and good temper which had just pleased me in my own, but also a fresh and enchanting beauty besides, I felt dissatisfied with myself again. I understood how silly of me it was to hope to attract the attention of such a wonderful being as Sonetchka. I could not hope for reciprocity--could not even think of it, yet my heart was overflowing with happiness. I could not imagine that the feeling of love which was filling my soul so pleasantly could require any happiness still greater, or wish for more than that that happiness should never cease. I felt perfectly contented. My heart beat like that of a dove, with the blood constantly flowing back to it, and I almost wept for joy.
As we passed through the hall and peered into a little dark store-room beneath the staircase I thought: "What bliss it would be if I could pass the rest of my life with her in that dark corner, and never let anybody know that we were there!"
"It HAS been a delightful evening, hasn't it?" I asked her in a low, tremulous voice. Then I quickened my steps--as much out of fear of what I had said as out of fear of what I had meant to imply.
"Yes, VERY! " she answered, and turned her face to look at me with an expression so kind that I ceased to be afraid. I went on:
"Particularly since supper. Yet if you could only know how I regret" (I had nearly said "how miserable I am at") your going, and to think that we shall see each other no more!"
"But why SHOULDN'T we?" she asked, looking gravely at the corner of her pocket-handkerchief, and gliding her fingers over a latticed screen which we were passing. "Every Tuesday and Friday I go with Mamma to the Iverskoi Prospect. I suppose you go for walks too sometimes?"
"Well, certainly I shall ask to go for one next Tuesday, and. if they won't take me I shall go by myself--even without my hat, if necessary. I know the way all right. "
"Do you know what I have just thought of?" she went on. "You know, I call some of the boys who come to see us THOU. Shall you and I call each other THOU too? Wilt THOU?" she added, bending her head towards me and looking me straight in the eyes.
At this moment a more lively section of the Grosvater dance began.
"Give me your hand," I said, under the impression that the music and din would drown my exact words, but she smilingly replied,
"THY hand, not YOUR hand." Yet the dance was over before I had succeeded in saying THOU, even though I kept conning over phrases in which the pronoun could be employed--and employed more than once. All that I wanted was the courage to say it.
"Wilt THOU?" and "THY hand" sounded continually in my ears, and caused in me a kind of intoxication I could hear and see nothing but Sonetchka. I watched her mother take her curls, lay them flat behind her ears (thus disclosing portions of her forehead and temples which I had not yet seen), and wrap her up so completely in the green shawl that nothing was left visible but the tip of her nose. Indeed, I could see that, if her little rosy fingers had not made a small, opening near her mouth, she would have been unable to breathe. Finally I saw her leave her mother's arm for an instant on the staircase, and turn and nod to us quickly before she disappeared through the doorway.
Woloda, the Iwins, the young Prince Etienne, and myself were all of us in love with Sonetchka and all of us standing on the staircase to follow her with our eyes. To whom in particular she had nodded I do not know, but at the moment I firmly believed it to be myself. In taking leave of the Iwins, I spoke quite unconcernedly, and even coldly, to Seriosha before I finally shook hands with him. Though he tried to appear absolutely indifferent, I think that he understood that from that day forth he had lost both my affection and his power over me, as well as that he regretted it.
 
晚饭时，领舞的那个青年坐在我们儿童席上，他对我特别注意，要是我遇到那件倒霉的事以后还能有所感受的话，这一定会使我的自尊心得到很大的满足。但是那个青年好象想方设法要使我快活起来；他逗我，称我好样的，大人们只要不一注意我们，他就从各色各样的瓶子里往我的玻璃杯里斟酒，一定要我喝干。晚餐快结束时，管家从包着餐巾的酒瓶里往我的玻璃杯里只斟了四分之一香摈酒，那个青年坚持要他给我斟满，硬要我一口喝干；我觉得浑身有一股舒服的暖意，对我那快活的保护人特别有好感，不知为什么我哈哈大笑起来。
突然间，大厅里发出《祖父舞曲》的乐声 ① ，于是大家都从餐桌旁站起来。我同那个青年的友谊立刻结束了：他加入成人群里，而我，不敢跟着他，只是怀着好奇心走过去，留神倾听瓦拉希娜夫人和她的女儿在谈什么。
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①《祖父舞曲》：供老年人跳的舞。
“再待半个钟头！”索妮奇卡恳求说。
“真的不行了，我的宝贝！”
“为了我，请求你。”索妮奇卡撒娇说。
“要是我明天病了，莫非你会高兴吗？”瓦拉希娜夫人说着，竟不经心地笑了笑。
“啊，你同意了！我们留下啦？”索妮奇卡说着，欢喜得雀跃起来。
“拿你真没有办法！好了，去跳舞吧……这儿有你的一个舞伴。”她的母亲指指我说。
索妮奇卡把手伸给我，于是我们跑到大厅里。
喝下去的酒、索妮奇卡在场和她的兴致，使我完全忘怀了跳马祖卡舞时那件倒霉的事。我迈着最滑稽的舞步；时而模仿一匹马，小步奔跑着，傲慢地抬起脚来，时而又象一头对狗发脾气的公羊原地踏步，纵情大笑，一点也不在乎会给观众留下什么印象。索妮奇卡也不住地笑；她笑我们手拉着手，不住地旋转；她笑一个年老的老爷慢腾腾地抬起脚来跨过一条手帕，装出一副做起来很吃力的样子，当我几乎跳到天花板那么高来显示自己的灵活时，她简直要笑死了。
穿过外祖母的书房时，我照了照镜子。我汗流满面，头发蓬乱，那一撮撮的头发比平时翘得更高了；但是我脸上的整个表情却是那么愉快、和蔼、健康，使我不禁顾影自怜起来。
“要是我永远象现在这样，那就好了，”我想，“我还会得到别人的欢心哩！”
但是我又望了望我的舞伴的美丽的小脸蛋，看见她脸上除了一我脸上那种使我洋洋自得的快活、健康和无忧无虑的神情以外，还洋溢着那么娴雅、温柔的美，这使我自怨自艾起来，我明白自己妄想获得这么一个美人儿的青睐有多么愚蠢。
我不能指望我们会互相爱悦，根本连想也不必想，因为即使不这样，我的心灵也已经充满了幸福。我不理解，除了使我的心灵得到满足的爱情而外，我还可以要求更大的幸福，或者作非份之想，好使这样感情永远继续下去。这样我已经非常幸福了。我的心象鸽子一样跳动，热血不住地往心房里涌，我想哭出声来。
当我们穿过走廓，经过楼梯下面黑暗的贮藏室时，我看了看它，想道：“要是能同她在这黑暗的贮藏室里过上一辈子，而且谁也不知道我们住在这儿，那该有多么幸福啊！”
“今天非常快活，是不是？”我用战栗的声音轻轻地间，一面加快脚步，与其说是由于我所说的话，不如说是由于我想说的话而吃惊。
“是的……非常快活！”她回答说，扭过头来望着我，脸上带着那样坦率而和蔼的表情，使我不再害怕了。
“特别是晚饭以后……不过，但愿您能知道，我有多么遗憾（我本来想说难过，但是不敢），你们不久就要走了，我们再也见不到了！”
“为什么再也见不到啦？”她说，聚精会神地望着她的小鞋尖，用手摸着我们经过的方格帷幔。“每星期二和星期五，我跟妈妈都乘车到特维尔林荫路去。难道您不想散步吗？”
“星期二我们一定要求去，如果不让我去，我就一个人跑掉，不戴帽子。我认识路。”
“您知道吗？”索妮奇卡突然说，“我同常到我们家来的一些男孩，彼此总是称呼你；让我们彼此也称呼你吧！你愿意吗？她补充一句说，猛地抬起头，直视着我的眼睛。
这时我们走进了大厅。正在奏《祖父舞曲》的另一个很活跃的部分。
“请您……”当音乐声和喧哗声足以淹没我的声音时，我说。
“请你，不是请您。”索妮奇卡纠正说，笑了起来。
《祖父舞曲》结束了，可是我没有来得及说一句带你字的话，虽然我不住地构思着，几次重复其中有这个代词的句子。我缺乏这样做的勇气。“你愿意吗？”“请你，”这些话在我耳朵里回响着，使我飘飘然起来：除了索妮奇卡，什么东西，什么人，我都看不见了。我看见，他们怎样撩起她的发鬈，撩到她的耳后，露出我还没有见过的那部分额头和鬓角；我看见，他们那么紧紧地把她裹到绿披巾里，使人只看见她的小鼻子尖；我注意到，要是她没有用红润的手指在嘴边拉开一个小洞，她一定会闷死的；我看见，她跟着她的母亲走下楼去，迅速地回过头来对我们点点头，就走出门去了。
沃洛佳、伊文家的孩子们、小公爵和我，我们大家都爱上了索妮奇卡，站在楼梯上目送着她。她是对哪个特定的人点头，我不知道，不过当时我确信那是对我。
同伊文家的孩子们告别时，我非常随便地，甚至有些冷淡地同谢辽沙讲话，同他握了握手。如果他明白，从那天起他就失去了我的爱和控制我的权力，他一定会为此感到惋惜，虽然他极力显出满不在乎的样子。
我一生中第一次在爱情上变了心，第一次感到这种感情的甜蜜滋味。把那种磨损了的习惯的忠心换成一种充满神秘意味和前途未卜的新鲜的爱情，我觉得很高兴。况且，在同一时间，甩开一个人而爱上另一个人，意味着爱得比以前加倍地强烈。
Chapter 24 In Bed
"How could I have managed to be so long and so passionately devoted to Seriosha?" I asked myself as I lay in bed that night. "He never either understood, appreciated, or deserved my love. But Sonetchka! What a darling SHE is! 'Wilt THOU?'--'THY hand'!"
I crept closer to the pillows, imagined to myself her lovely face, covered my head over with the bedclothes, tucked the counterpane in on all sides, and, thus snugly covered, lay quiet and enjoying the warmth until I became wholly absorbed in pleasant fancies and reminiscences.
If I stared fixedly at the inside of the sheet above me I found that I could see her as clearly as I had done an hour ago could talk to her in my thoughts, and, though it was a conversation of irrational tenor, I derived the greatest delight from it, seeing that "THOU" and "THINE" and "for THEE" and "to THEE" occurred in it incessantly. These fancies were so vivid that I could not sleep for the sweetness of my emotion, and felt as though I must communicate my superabundant happiness to some one.
"The darling!" I said, half-aloud, as I turned over; then,
"Woloda, are you asleep?"
"No," he replied in a sleepy voice. "What's the matter?"
"I am in love, Woloda--terribly in love with Sonetchka"
"Well? Anything else?" he replied, stretching himself.
"Oh, but you cannot imagine what I feel just now, as I lay covered over with the counterpane, I could see her and talk to her so clearly that it was marvellous! And, do you know, while I was lying thinking about her--I don't know why it was, but all at once I felt so sad that I could have cried."
Woloda made a movement of some sort.
"One thing only I wish for," I continued; "and that is that I could always be with her and always be seeing her. Just that. You are in love too, I believe. Confess that you are."
It was strange, but somehow I wanted every one to be in love with Sonetchka, and every one to tell me that they were so.
"So that's how it is with you? " said Woloda, turning round to me. "Well, I can understand it."
"I can see that you cannot sleep," I remarked, observing by his bright eyes that he was anything but drowsy. "Well, cover yourself over SO" (and I pulled the bedclothes over him), "and then let us talk about her. Isn't she splendid? If she were to say to me, 'Nicolinka, jump out of the window,' or 'jump into the fire,' I should say, 'Yes, I will do it at once and rejoice in doing it.' Oh, how glorious she is!"
I went on picturing her again and again to my imagination, and, to enjoy the vision the better, turned over on my side and buried my head in the pillows, murmuring, "Oh, I want to cry, Woloda."
"What a fool you are!" he said with a slight laugh. Then, after a moment's silence he added: "I am not like you. I think I would rather sit and talk with her."
"Ah! Then you ARE in love with her!" I interrupted.
"And then," went on Woloda, smiling tenderly, "kiss her fingers and eyes and lips and nose and feet--kiss all of her."
"How absurd!" I exclaimed from beneath the pillows.
"Ah, you don't understand things," said Woloda with contempt.
"I DO understand. It's you who don't understand things, and you talk rubbish, too," I replied, half-crying.
"Well, there is nothing to cry about," he concluded. "She is only a girl."
 
“我怎么能那么强烈、那么长久地爱着谢辽沙呢？”我躺在床上纳闷。“不！他从来也不理解，不会看重，而且也不配享有我的爱……但是索妮奇卡呢？这是多么可爱的人儿啊！‘你愿意吗？’‘你来开头。’……”
我匍匐着跳起来，逼真地想像着她的小脸，随后用被子蒙上头，把浑身都裹住，裹得非常严实的时候就躺下来，感到一种愉快的暖意，沉入甜蜜的梦想和回忆之中。我目不转睛地紧盯着棉被时，就象一个钟头以前那样清清楚楚地看到了她。我甚至在心里同她交谈；这场谈话虽然毫无意义，却给予我无法形容的乐趣，因为谈话里不断出现你，给你，同你，你的等字眼。
这些梦想是那么清晰，一股甜蜜的激动使我不能入睡，我很想跟什么人来分享一下我这过多的幸福。
“我的宝贝！”我几乎说出声来，猛地翻到另一边。“沃洛佳！你睡着了吗？”
“没有，”他用睡意朦胧的声音回答我说。“做什么？”
“我在恋爱，沃洛佳！肯定是爱上了索妮奇卡。”
“哦，那又怎样呢？”他回答我说，伸了一下懒腰。
“噢，沃洛佳！你想像不出我发生了什么事情……我现在裹着被子躺着，那么清楚、那么清楚地看见了她，和她谈话，简直奇怪极了！你知道还有什么吗？我躺着想念她的时候，天知道为什么，我很伤心，非常想哭。”
沃洛佳动了一下。
“我只希望一件事，”我接着说下去，“那就是永远和她在一起，永远看见她，再也没有别的了。你在恋爱吗？坦白地承认吧，沃洛佳。”
真奇怪，我愿意人人都爱上索妮奇卡，人人都这么说。
“这跟你有什么关系呢？”沃洛佳说着，转过脸来望着我。“也许。”
“你并不想睡，你在装样子！”我喊道，看见他那闪闪发光的眼睛丝毫没有睡意，于是我就把被窝掀开。“我们倒不如谈谈她。她不是很迷人吗？……那么迷人，要是她对我说一声：‘尼古拉沙 ① ，从窗口跳下去！’或者‘跳到火里去’嗯，我敢起誓！”我说，“我马上就跳，而且会高高兴兴地跳。嗅，多迷人啊！”我补充一句，历历在目地想像着她，为了充分欣赏这个形象，我突然翻到另一边，把头钻到枕头底下。“我非常想哭，沃洛佳！”
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①尼古拉沙：也是尼古拉的小名。
“傻瓜！”他笑着说，停顿了一会儿之后，又说“我完全不象你那样。我想，如果可能的话，我愿意先坐在她身边，同她谈谈天……”
“啊！那末你也在恋爱？”我打断他的话头。
“然后，”沃洛佳接着说，温柔地微笑着，“然后我就热烈地吻她的小手指头、小眼睛、小嘴、小鼻子、小脚，好好地把她都吻遍了……”
“胡说！”我从枕头底下喊道。
“你什么都不懂！”沃洛佳轻视地说。
“不，我懂得；是你不懂得，净说些蠢话，”我噙着眼泪说。
“不过，你根本用不着哭啊。简直跟女孩子一样。”
Chapter 25 The Letter
ON the 16th of April, nearly six months after the day just described, Papa entered our schoolroom and told us that that night we must start with him for our country house. I felt a pang at my heart when I heard the news, and my thoughts at once turned to Mamma, The cause of our unexpected departure was the following letter:
"PETROVSKOE, 12th April.
"Only this moment (i.e. at ten o'clock in the evening) have I received your dear letter of the 3rd of April, but as usual, I answer it at once. Fedor brought it yesterday from town, but, as it was late, he did not give it to Mimi till this morning, and Mimi (since I was unwell) kept it from me all day. I have been a little feverish. In fact, to tell the truth, this is the fourth day that I have been in bed.
"Yet do not be uneasy. I feel almost myself again now, and if Ivan Vassilitch should allow me, I think of getting up to-morrow.
"On Friday last I took the girls for a drive, and, close to the little bridge by the turning on to the high road (the place which always makes me nervous), the horses and carriage stuck fast in the mud. Well, the day being fine, I thought that we would walk a little up the road until the carriage should be extricated, but no sooner had we reached the chapel than I felt obliged to sit down, I was so tired, and in this way half-an-hour passed while help was being sent for to get the carriage dug out. I felt cold, for I had only thin boots on, and they had been wet through. After luncheon too, I had alternate cold and hot fits, yet still continued to follow our ordinary routine
"When tea was over I sat down to the piano to play a duct with Lubotshka. (you would be astonished to hear what progress she has made!), but imagine my surprise when I found that I could not count the beats! Several times I began to do so, yet always felt confused in my head, and kept hearing strange noises in my ears. I would begin 'One-two-three--' and then suddenly go on '-eight- fifteen,' and so on, as though I were talking nonsense and could not help it. At last Mimi came to my assistance and forced me to retire to bed. That was how my illness began, and it was all through my own fault. The next day I had a good deal of fever, and our good Ivan Vassilitch came. He has not left us since, but promises soon to restore me to the world."
"What a wonderful old man he is! While I was feverish and delirious he sat the whole night by my bedside without once closing his eyes; and at this moment (since he knows I am busy writing) he is with the girls in the divannaia, and I can hear him telling them German stories, and them laughing as they listen to him.
"'La Belle Flamande,' as you call her, is now spending her second week here as my guest (her mother having gone to pay a visit somewhere), and she is most attentive and attached to me, She even tells me her secret affairs. Under different circumstances her beautiful face, good temper, and youth might have made a most excellent girl of her, but in the society in which according to her own account, she moves she will be wasted. The idea has more than once occurred to me that, had I not had so many children of my own, it would have been a deed of mercy to have adopted her.
"Lubotshka had meant to write to you herself, but she has torn up three sheets of paper, saying: 'I know what a quizzer Papa always is. If he were to find a single fault in my letter he would show it to everybody.' Katenka is as charming as usual, and Mimi, too, is good, but tiresome.
"Now let me speak of more serious matters. You write to me that your affairs are not going well this winter, and that you wish to break into the revenues of Chabarovska. It seems to me strange that you should think it necessary to ask my consent. Surely what belongs to me belongs no less to you? You are so kind-hearted, dear, that, for fear of worrying me, you conceal the real state of things, but I can guess that you have lost a great deal at cards, as also that you are afraid of my being angry at that. Yet, so long as you can tide over this crisis, I shall not think much of it, and you need not be uneasy, I have grown accustomed to no longer relying, so far as the children are concerned, upon your gains at play, nor yet--excuse me for saying so--upon your income. Therefore your losses cause me as little anxiety as your gains give me pleasure. What I really grieve over is your unhappy passion itself for gambling--a passion which bereaves me of part of your tender affection and obliges me to tell you such bitter truths as (God knows with what pain) I am now telling you. I never cease. to beseech Him that He may preserve us, not from poverty (for what is poverty?), but from the terrible juncture which would arise should the interests of the children, which I am called upon to protect, ever come into collision with our own. Hitherto God has listened to my prayers. You have never yet overstepped the limit beyond which we should be obliged either to sacrifice property which would no longer belong to us, but to the children, or-- It is terrible to think of, but the dreadful misfortune at which I hint is forever hanging over our heads. Yes, it is the heavy cross which God has given us both to carry.
"Also, you write about the children, and come back to our old point of difference by asking my consent to your placing them at a boarding-school. You know my objection to that kind of education. I do not know, dear, whether you will accede to my request, but I nevertheless beseech you, by your love for me, to give me your promise that never so long as I am alive, nor yet after my death (if God should see fit to separate us), shall such a thing be done.
"Also you write that our affairs render it indispensable for you to visit St. Petersburg. The Lord go with you! Go and return as, soon as possible. Without you we shall all of us be lonely.
"Spring is coming in beautifully. We keep the door on to the terrace always open now, while the path to the orangery is dry and the peach-trees are in full blossom. Only here and there is there a little snow remaining, The swallows are arriving, and to- day Lubotshka brought me the first flowers. The doctor says that in about three days' time I shall be well again and able to take the open air and to enjoy the April sun. Now, au revoir, my dearest one. Do not he alarmed, I beg of you, either on account of my illness or on account of your losses at play. End the crisis as soon as possible, and then return here with the children for the summer. I am making wonderful plans for our passing of it, and I only need your presence to realise them."
The rest of the letter was written in French, as well as in a strange, uncertain hand, on another piece of paper. I transcribe it word for word:
"Do not believe what I have just written to you about my illness. It is more serious than any one knows. I alone know that I shall never leave my bed again. Do not, therefore, delay a minute in coming here with the children. Perhaps it may yet be permitted me to embrace and bless them. It is my last wish that it should be so. I know what a terrible blow this will be to you, but you would have had to hear it sooner or later--if not from me, at least from others. Let us try to, bear the Calamity with fortitude, and place our trust in the mercy of God. Let us submit ourselves to His will. Do not think that what I am writing is some delusion of my sick imagination. On the contrary, I am perfectly clear at this moment, and absolutely calm. Nor must you comfort yourself with the false hope that these are the unreal, confused feelings of a despondent spirit, for I feel indeed, I know, since God has deigned to reveal it to me--that I have now but a very short time to live. Will my love for you and the children cease with my life? I know that that can never be. At this moment I am too full of that love to be capable of believing that such a feeling (which constitutes a part of my very existence) can ever, perish. My soul can never lack its love for you; and I know that that love will exist for ever, since such a feeling could never have been awakened if it were not to be eternal. I shall no longer be with you, yet I firmly believe that my love will cleave to you always, and from that thought I glean such comfort that I await the approach of death calmly and without fear. Yes, I am calm, and God knows that I have ever looked, and do look now, upon death as no mere than the passage to a better life. Yet why do tears blind my eyes? Why should the children lose a mother's love? Why must you, my husband, experience such a heavy and unlooked-for blow? Why must I die when your love was making life so inexpressibly happy for me?
"But His holy will be done!
"The tears prevent my writing more. It may be that I shall never see you again. I thank you, my darling beyond all price, for all the felicity with which you have surrounded me in this life. Soon I shall appear before God Himself to pray that He may reward you. Farewell, my dearest! Remember that, if I am no longer here, my love will none the less NEVER AND NOWHERE fail you. Farewell, Woloda--farewell, my pet! Farewell, my Benjamin, my little Nicolinka! Surely they will never forget me?"
With this letter had come also a French note from Mimi, in which the latter said:
"The sad circumstances of which she has written to you are but too surely confirmed by the words of the doctor. Yesterday evening she ordered the letter to be posted at once, but, thinking at she did so in delirium, I waited until this morning, with the intention of sealing and sending it then. Hardly had I done so when Natalia Nicolaevna asked me what I had done with the letter and told me to burn it if not yet despatched. She is forever speaking of it, and saying that it will kill you. Do not delay your departure for an instant if you wish to see the angel before she leaves us. Pray excuse this scribble, but I have not slept now for three nights. You know how much I love her."
Later I heard from Natalia Savishna (who passed the whole of the night of the 11th April at Mamma's bedside) that, after writing the first part of the letter, Mamma laid it down upon the table beside her and went to sleep for a while,
"I confess," said Natalia Savishna, "that I too fell asleep in the arm-chair, and let my knitting slip from my hands. Suddenly, towards one o'clock in the morning, I heard her saying something; whereupon I opened my eyes and looked at her. My darling was sitting up in bed, with her hands clasped together and streams of tears gushing from her eyes.
"'It is all over now,' she said, and hid her face in her hands.
"I sprang to my feet, and asked what the matter was.
"'Ah, Natalia Savishna, if you could only know what I have just seen!' she said; yet, for all my asking, she would say no more, beyond commanding me to hand her the letter. To that letter she added something, and then said that it must be sent off directly. From that moment she grew, rapidly worse."
 
四月十六日，离我描述的那一天将近六个月以后，我们正在上课的时候，爸爸走上楼来；说当天夜里我们就要同他一起下乡。一听到这个消息，我心里就难过起来，我的思想立刻转到妈妈身上。
这样突如其来的启程是因为下面这封信引起的：
彼得洛夫斯科耶。四月十二日。
直到现在，晚上十点钟，我才接到你四月三日那封亲切的信，我照一向的习惯，立即写回信。费多尔昨天就把你的信从城里带回来，但是因为天晚了，今天早晨他才交给米米。米米借口说我身体不好，心绪不宁，一整天都没有把信交给我。我的确有点低烧，说老实话，已经是第四天了，我不大舒服，没有起床。
请你千万不要害怕，亲爱的：我觉得自己相当好，如果伊凡•瓦里西耶维奇许可，明天我就想起来。
上星期五，我带孩子们坐车出去；但是在大路拐角上，就是在总使我感到害怕的小桥旁，马匹陷到泥塘里去了。天气非常明媚，我想趁他们把车子拖出来的时间，步行到大路上。当我走到小礼拜堂的时候，觉得非常疲倦，坐下来休息休息，因为隔了半个来钟头才来人拖车，我觉得身上发冷，特别是我的脚，因为我穿的是薄底靴，而且都湿透了。午饭后，我感到身上一阵冷一阵热，但是照常走动，吃茶以后，坐下来同柳博奇卡合奏。（你简直不会认得她了，她有了那么大的进步！）但是当我发现我不能数拍子时，你想想我是多么惊异吧！我数了好几次，但是我的脑子完会混乱了，我感到耳朵里也异样地鸣响起来。我数着一、二、三，接着就突然数起八、十五，主要的是，我意识到自己语无伦次，却怎么也纠正不过来。最后米米帮我的忙，几乎是强迫我躺到床上。这样，亲爱的，你就会详细了解我是怎样病倒的，而且全是我自己的过错。第二天我发烧相当厉害，于是我们那位善良的老伊凡•瓦西里奇来了 ① ，他一直留在我们家，答应不久就让我到户外去。这个伊凡•瓦西里奇是个好极了的老头儿！当我发烧、说胡话的时候，他就整夜不合眼，坐在我的床边；现在，因为知道我要写信，就同小姑娘们坐在起居室里，我从卧室里可以听到，他在给她们讲德国童话，她们听着，险些笑死了。
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①伊凡•瓦西里奇：即伊凡•瓦西里耶维奇。
La belle Flamande， ① 如你称呼她的，从上星期就到我们家来作客，因为她母亲到什么地方作客去了，她对我的关怀表明她怀着非常真诚的眷恋之情。她把内心的一切秘密都向我吐露了。以她那漂亮的脸庞、善良的心地和青春，要是有人好好地管教她，她在各方面都会出落成一个好姑娘；但是在她生活的圈子里，根据她所讲的话来判断，她会完全毁掉的。我突然想到，如果我自己没有那么多孩子，我就会做好事收养她。
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①La belle Flamande：法语“那个佛拉米美人”。
柳博奇卡本来想亲自给你写信，但是已经撕掉三张纸了，她说：“我知道爸爸多么爱嘲笑人：如果写错了一点点，他就会拿给大家看。”卡简卡还是那么可爱，米米还是那样善良而忧郁。
现在我们来谈正经事吧：你给我的信上说，今年冬天你的经济情况不好，你不得不动用哈巴洛夫卡那笔钱。我甚至觉得奇怪，你居然还要征求我的同意。难道我的东西不就是你的吗？
你那么体贴，我的亲爱的，为了怕使我伤心，把你的真实的经济情况隐瞒着我；但是我猜想得到：你大概输了很多钱，我敢起誓，我并没有因此而悲伤。因而，要是事情可以补救的话，就请你不要大放在心上，不必徒然折磨自己。我一向不指望你为孩子们赢钱，而且，请你原谅，也不指望你的全部财产。作赢了钱我并不高兴，输了钱我也不难过；使我难过的只是，你这不幸的赌将夺去了你对我的一部分温存爱恋，逼得我家现在这样，说出这样痛心的真话；上帝晓得，这样做我有多么痛苦啊！我不住地向上帝祈祷一件事，请求他使我们摆脱……不是摆脱贫穷（贫穷算得了什么呢？），而是摆脱当我必须维护的孩子们的利益同我们自己的利益发生冲突时的那种可怕处境。直到目前为止，上帝都倾听了我的祈祷；你没有越过那条界限，如果那样，我们就得牺牲那份已经不属于我们而属于孩子们的财产，要不就是……想起来都可怕，但是这种可怕的不幸总在威胁着我们。是的，这是上帝加在我们两人身上的沉重的十字架。
你给我的信上还谈到孩子们，又回到我们老早争论过的问题上：你要求我同意把他们送进学校。你知道我对这种教育抱有成见……
我不知道，我的亲爱的，你是否同意我的意见；但是无论如何，我恳求你，为了对我的爱答应我，无论在我活着或死后（要是上帝愿意折散我们的话），永远不会发生这样的事。
你给我的信上说，你必须去彼得堡一趟料理我们的家务。愿基督与你同在，我的亲爱的，去吧，希望你早日回来。你不在，我们大家觉得那么寂寞！春光明媚得惊人：凉台上的双层们已经卸下，通往暖房的小径四天前已经完全干了，桃花正在盛开；仅仅有些地方还有些残雪；燕子飞回来了；今天柳博奇卡给我拿来春天的第一枝花。医生说我再过两三天就可以完全复原，能够呼吸呼吸新鲜空气，在四月的阳光中晒晒太阳。再见吧，亲爱的朋友，请不要为我的病，也不要为你赌输了钱担心；赶快办完事，带着孩子们回来过一个夏天。至于我们怎样消夏，我已经做了美好的计划，只要你手就可以实现。
这封信的下面一部分是用法文写的，用不整齐的连笔字体写在另一张纸上。我逐字地把它翻译过来：不要相信我信上所写的病情；谁也猜想不到它有多么严重。只有我自己知道，我再也起不了床啦，不要错过一分钟，立刻带着孩子们回来。也许我还可以再拥抱你一次，再为你祝福一番；这是我最后的唯一希望。我知道，这对你是多么可怕的打击；不过反正迟早从我这里或者从别人那里，你会得到这种打击的；让我们坚强地，靠着上帝的恩典，尽力忍受这种不幸吧！让我们听从上帝的意旨吧。
不要认为我所写的是病中胡思乱想的梦呓；恰恰相反，这时我的思想极其清楚，我十分镇静。不要以为这是一个怯懦的灵魂的虚妄的、模糊的预感，而用这种希望来安慰自己。不，我觉得我知道，我所以知道，是因为上帝已经给我启示，我活不长了。
难道我对你和孩子们的爱情会随着我的生命而完结吗？我明白这是不可的。此刻我的感情是非常强烈的，我无法设想，没有它我就不能理解生存的这种感情，有朝一日会消灭。没有对你们的爱，我的灵魂就不能存在。象我的爱这样的感情，若是有朝一日会消灭的话，那它就不会产生，单凭这一点，我就知道它会永久存在。
我将不再和你们在一起；但是我坚信我的爱永远不会离开你们，这种想法使我的心灵得到慰藉，我十分平静地、毫无畏惧地等待着死神的来临。
我很平静，上帝知道，我一向把死看作是过渡到更美好的生活，现在也还是这样看；但是为什么眼泪使我窒息？……为什么要使孩子们失去亲爱的母亲？为什么要使你遭到这么沉重而意外的打击？当你的爱情使我的生活无限幸福的时刻，我为什么要死去呢？
让上帝的神圣意旨实现吧。
由于泪眼模糊，我再也不能写下去。也许我再也见不到你。我的无价的朋友，为了今生你给予我的一切幸福，我感谢你；我会祈求上帝酬报你。别了，亲爱的朋友；记住，我虽然不在了，但是我的爱情随时随地都不会离弃你。别了，沃洛佳！别了，我的宝贝！别了，我的文雅们——我的尼古连卡！
难道有一天他们会忘记我吗？！
这封信里还附着米米用法文写的一张便笺，内容如下：
她对您讲的这种悲惨的预感，已经被医生的话充分证实了。昨天夜里，她吩咐立刻把这封信付邮。我以为她是在说吃语，于是我决定等到今天早晨，并且决定拆开看看。我刚一打开，娜达丽雅•萨维什娜就问那封信我怎么处理了，吩咐我说，如果还没有寄走就烧掉。她不住地这么说，而且肯定地说这会使你们痛苦万分。如果您希望在这位天使离开我们之前看一看她，那就不要拖延归期。原谅我写得这么潦草。我已经三夜没有睡了。您知道我多么爱她！
四月十一日，在我母亲的寝室里守了一整夜的娜达丽雅•萨维什娜告诉我说，妈妈写好这封信的第一部分时，把信放在身边的小桌上，就寝了。
“我得承认，”娜达丽雅•萨维什娜说，“我自己在安乐椅上打盹了，我织的袜子从手里掉下去。”半夜十二点多钟，我在梦中听到仿佛她在讲话；我睁开眼一看：她，我的宝贝，坐在床上，两手这样交叉着，泪如雨下，‘那末说，一切就完了？’她只说了这么一句，就用双手把脸捂上。
“我跳起来问：‘怎么回事？’
“‘哦，娜达丽雅•萨维什娜，但愿你知道我刚刚梦见了谁？’
“不论我怎么追问，她都不对我讲了。她只叫我把小桌移近些，又写了几行字，叫我当面把信封上，立刻送走。以后，情况就愈来愈坏了。”
Chapter 26 What Awaited Us At The Country-house
On the 18th of April we descended from the carriage at the front door of the house at Petrovskoe. All the way from Moscow Papa had been preoccupied, and when Woloda had asked him "whether Mamma was ill" he had looked at him sadly and nodded an affirmative. Nevertheless he had grown more composed during the journey, and it was only when we were actually approaching the house that his face again began to grow anxious, until, as he leaped from the carriage and asked Foka (who had run breathlessly to meet us),
"How is Natalia Nicolaevna now?" his voice, was trembling, and
his eyes had filled with tears. The good, old Foka looked at
us, and then lowered his gaze again. Finally he said as he
opened the hall-door and turned his head aside: "It is the
sixth day since she has not left her bed."
Milka (who, as we afterwards learned, had never ceased to whine from the day when Mamma was taken ill) came leaping, joyfully to meet Papa, and barking a welcome as she licked his hands, but Papa put her aside, and went first to the drawing-room, and then into the divannaia, from which a door led into the bedroom. The nearer he approached the latter, the more, did his movements express the agitation that he felt. Entering the divannaia he crossed it on tiptoe, seeming to hold his breath. Even then he had to stop and make the sign of the cross before he could summon up courage to turn the handle. At the same moment Mimi, with dishevelled hair and eyes red with weeping came hastily out of the corridor.
"Ah, Peter Alexandritch!" she said in a whisper and with a marked expression of despair. Then, observing that Papa was trying to open the door, she whispered again:
"Not here. This door is locked. Go round to the door on the other side."
Oh, how terribly all this wrought upon my imagination, racked as it was by grief and terrible forebodings!
So we went round to the other side. In the corridor we met the gardener, Akim, who had been wont to amuse us with his grimaces, but at this moment I could see nothing comical in him. Indeed, the sight of his thoughtless, indifferent face struck me more painfully than anything else. In the maidservants' hall, through which we had to pass, two maids were sitting at their work, but rose to salute us with an expression so mournful that I felt completely overwhelmed.
Passing also through Mimi's room, Papa opened the door of the bedroom, and we entered. The two windows on the right were curtained over, and close to them was seated, Natalia Savishna, spectacles on nose and engaged in darning stockings. She did not approach us to kiss me as she had been used to do, but just rose and looked at us, her tears beginning to flow afresh. Somehow it frightened me to see every one, on beholding us, begin to cry, although they had been calm enough before.
On the left stood the bed behind a screen, while in the great arm-chair the doctor lay asleep. Beside the bed a young, fair- haired and remarkably beautiful girl in a white morning wrapper was applying ice to Mamma's head, but Mamma herself I could not see. This girl was "La Belle Flamande" of whom Mamma had written, and who afterwards played so important a part in our family life. As we entered she disengaged one of her hands, straightened the pleats of her dress on her bosom, and whispered, " She is insensible," Though I was in an agony of grief, I observed at that moment every little detail.
It was almost dark in the room, and very hot, while the air was heavy with the mingled, scent of mint, eau-de-cologne, camomile, and Hoffman's pastilles. The latter ingredient caught my attention so strongly that even now I can never hear of it, or even think of it, without my memory carrying me back to that dark, close room, and all the details of that dreadful time.
Mamma's eyes were wide open, but they could not see us. Never shall I forget the terrible expression in them--the expression of agonies of suffering!
Then we were taken away.
When, later, I was able to ask Natalia Savishna about Mamma's last moments she told me the following:
"After you were taken out of the room, my beloved one struggled for a long time, as though some one were trying to strangle her. Then at last she laid her head back upon the pillow, and slept softly, peacefully, like an angel from Heaven. I went away for a moment to see about her medicine, and just as I entered the room again my darling was throwing the bedclothes from off her and calling for your Papa. He stooped over her, but strength failed her to say what she wanted to. All she could do was to open her lips and gasp, 'My God, my God! The children, the children!' I would have run to fetch you, but Ivan Vassilitch stopped me, saying that it would only excite her--it were best not to do so. Then suddenly she stretched her arms out and dropped them again. What she meant by that gesture the good God alone knows, but I think that in it she was blessing you--you the children whom she could not see. God did not grant her to see her little ones before her death. Then she raised herself up--did my love, my darling--yes, just so with her hands, and exclaimed in a voice which I cannot bear to remember, 'Mother of God, never forsake them!'"
"Then the pain mounted to her heart, and from her eyes it as, plain that she suffered terribly, my poor one! She sank back upon the pillows, tore the bedclothes with her teeth, and wept--wept--"
"Yes and what then?" I asked but Natalia Savishna could say no more. She turned away and cried bitterly.
Mamma had expired in terrible agonies.
 
四月十八日，我们在彼得洛夫斯科耶住宅门口下了马车。离开莫斯科时，爸爸心事重重，当沃洛佳问他是不是妈妈病了的时候，爸爸悲伤地望望他，默默地点点头。旅途中他显然平静了些；但是我们离家愈近，他的脸色就愈来愈悲哀，下马车时，他问喘息着跑来的福加说：“娜达丽雅•萨维什娜在哪儿？”他的声音颤巍巍的，眼中含着泪水。善良的老福加偷偷地看了我们一眼，低下头，打开前门，把脸扭到一边，回答说：
“她已经是第六天没有离开卧室了。”
后来我听说，米尔卡从妈妈病倒的那一天起，就不住声地哀号。现在它快活地向爸爸冲过来，扑到他身上，一边尖叫，一边舐他的手；但是他把它推到一边，穿过客厅，从那里进入起居室，起居室的门直通卧室。他愈走近那个房间，从他全身的动作看来，他的焦急心情也就愈明显了；一进起居室，他就踮着脚走，几乎是屏住呼吸，在他没有下决心转动那扇关着的门上的锁时，先画了个十字。这时米米，蓬头散发，满脸泪痕，从过道里跑出来。“啊！彼得•亚历山德雷奇！”她带着真正绝望的表情低声说，看见爸爸在转动门上的锁，她几乎听不出地补充说：“这儿进不去，要穿过使女的房间。”
这一切使我那由于可怕的预兆而不胜悲哀的、天真的想像感到多么悲痛。！
我们走进使女的房间；在过道里我们遇见了傻子阿基姆，他一向好做鬼脸逗我们发笑；但是这时我不仅不觉得他滑稽，而且一见他那冷淡而愚蠢的面孔，我就觉得痛苦得了不得。在使女的房间里，两个正在干活的使女欠起身来向我们行礼，她们那副愁容使我害怕极了。又穿过米米的房间，爸爸打开卧室的门，于是我们都走了进去。门的右首是两扇窗户，窗户被窗帘遮住；一扇窗前坐着娜达丽雅•萨维什娜，她鼻梁上架着眼镜在织袜子。她没有照平时那样吻我们，只是欠起身来，透过眼镜望望我们，就泪如泉涌了。大家本来都十分平静，一看见我们都哭起来，这使我很不喜欢。
门的左边摆着一架屏风，屏风后面是床、一张小桌、一个小药箱和一张大安乐椅，医生正坐在上面打瞌睡。床边站着一个年轻的非常美丽的金发姑娘，穿着雪白的晨装，袖子卷起一点，正往我当时看不见的妈妈的头上敷冰。这个姑娘就是妈妈信上说的那个la belle Flamande，后来她在我们全家的生活中扮演一个十分重要的角色。我们一进来，她就从妈妈头上抽回一只手，整理她胸部的衣褶，随后低声说：“昏迷了。”
我当时痛苦万分，但是不由地注意到一切细节。房间里几乎是昏暗的，很热，充满混杂着薄荷、香水、苦菊和赫夫曼药水的气味。这种气味给了我那么深刻的印象，不仅一闻到它，甚至一想到它，我就立刻回想起那间阴惨惨的、使人窒息的屋子，那可怕时刻的一切细节都立刻再现出来。
妈妈的眼睛睁着，但是她什么也看不见……嗅，我永远也忘不了那可怕的目光！目光里流露出多么苦痛的神情！
我们被领走了。
后来我向娜达丽雅•萨维什娜问起我母亲临终的情况，她对我这样讲：
“把你们领走的时候，她又折腾了好久，我的亲爱的，好象有什么东西哽在她这儿；随后她的头从枕头上滑下来，她就象个天使一样，平静而安宁地睡着了。我刚走出去看看，为什么没有把她的药水送来，再回来时，她，我的心肝，已经把身边的一切推开，不住地招呼你爸爸到她身边去；你爸爸俯在她身上，但是她分明已经没有力气说出她想说的话：她一开口就又呻吟起来：‘我的上帝！主啊！孩子们！孩子们！’我想跑去找你们，但是伊凡•瓦西里奇拦住我说：‘那会使她更加心烦意乱，最好不必。’后来，她刚举起手来，就又放了下去。她这是想表示什么意思，那只有天知道了。我想，她是在暗暗给你们祝福；显然，上帝不让她在临终前看看自己的孩子们。最后，她稍稍抬起身来，我的亲爱的，双手这么动了一下，突然用那么一种我想都不敢想的声调说：‘圣母呀，不要抛弃他们！……’这时她心痛起来；从她的眼神可以看出，这个可怜的人儿痛苦极了。她倒在枕头上，用牙咬住床单；而她的眼泪，我的少爷，就不住地往下滚。”
“嗯，以后呢？”我问。
娜达丽雅•萨维什娜再也说不下去了。她转过身去，痛哭起来。
妈妈在万分痛苦中逝世了。
Chapter 27 Grief
LATE the following evening I thought I would like to look at her once more; so, conquering an involuntary sense of fear, I gently opened the door of the salon and entered on tiptoe.
In the middle of the room, on a table, lay the coffin, with wax candles burning all round it on tall silver candelabra. In the further corner sat the chanter, reading the Psalms in a low, monotonous voice. I stopped at the door and tried to look, but my eyes were so weak with crying, and my nerves so terribly on edge, that I could distinguish nothing. Every object seemed to mingle together in a strange blur--the candles, the brocade, the velvet, the great candelabra, the pink satin cushion trimmed with lace, the chaplet of flowers, the ribboned cap, and something of a transparent, wax-like colour. I mounted a chair to see her face, yet where it should have been I could see only that wax-like, transparent something. I could not believe it to be her face. Yet, as I stood grazing at it, I at last recognised the well- known, beloved features. I shuddered with horror to realise that it WAS she. Why were those eyes so sunken? What had laid that dreadful paleness upon her cheeks, and stamped the black spot beneath the transparent skin on one of them? Why was the expression of the whole face so cold and severe? Why were the lips so white, and their outline so beautiful, so majestic, so expressive of an unnatural calm that, as I looked at them, a chill shudder ran through my hair and down my back?
Somehow, as I gazed, an irrepressible, incomprehensible power seemed to compel me to keep my eyes fixed upon that lifeless face. I could not turn away, and my imagination began to picture before me scenes of her active life and happiness. I forgot that the corpse lying before me now--the THING at which I was gazing unconsciously as at an object which had nothing in common with my dreams--was SHE. I fancied I could see her--now here, now there, alive, happy, and smiling. Then some well-known feature in the face at which I was gazing would suddenly arrest my attention, and in a flash I would recall the terrible reality and shudder- though still unable to turn my eyes away.
Then again the dreams would replace reality--then again the reality put to flight the dreams. At last the consciousness of both left me, and for a while I became insensible.
How long I remained in that condition I do not know, nor yet how it occurred. I only know that for a time I lost all sense of existence, and experienced a kind of vague blissfulness which though grand and sweet, was also sad. It may be that, as it ascended to a better world, her beautiful soul had looked down with longing at the world in which she had left us--that it had seen my sorrow, and, pitying me, had returned to earth on the wings of love to console and bless me with a heavenly smile of compassion.
The door creaked as the chanter entered who was to relieve his predecessor. The noise awakened me, and my first thought was that, seeing me standing on the chair in a posture which had nothing touching in its aspect, he might take me for an unfeeling boy who had climbed on to the chair out of mere curiosity: wherefore I hastened to make the sign of the cross, to bend down my head, and to burst out crying. As I recall now my impressions of that episode I find that it was only during my moments of self-forgetfulness that my grief was wholehearted. True, both before and after the funeral I never ceased to cry and to look miserable, yet I feel conscience-stricken when I recall that grief of mine, seeing that always present in it there was an element of conceit--of a desire to show that I was more grieved than any one else, of an interest which I took in observing the effect, produced upon others by my tears, and of an idle curiosity leading me to remark Mimi's bonnet and the faces of all present. The mere circumstance that I despised myself for not feeling grief to the exclusion of everything else, and that I endeavoured to conceal the fact, shows that my sadness was insincere and unnatural. I took a delight in feeling that I was unhappy, and in trying to feel more so. Consequently this egotistic consciousness completely annulled any element of sincerity in my woe.
That night I slept calmly and soundly (as is usual after any great emotion), and awoke with my tears dried and my nerves restored. At ten o'clock we were summoned to attend the pre- funeral requiem.
The room was full of weeping servants and peasants who had come to bid farewell to their late mistress. During the service I myself wept a great deal, made frequent signs of the cross, and performed many genuflections, but I did not pray with, my soul, and felt, if anything, almost indifferent, My thoughts were chiefly centred upon the new coat which I was wearing (a garment which was tight and uncomfortable) and upon how to avoid soiling my trousers at the knees. Also I took the most minute notice of all present.
Papa stood at the head of the coffin. He was as white as snow, and only with difficulty restrained his tears. His tall figure in its black frockcoat, his pale, expressive face, the graceful, assured manner in which, as usual, he made the sign of the cross or bowed until he touched the floor with his hand [A custom of the Greek funeral rite.] or took the candle from the priest or went to the coffin--all were exceedingly effective; yet for some reason or another I felt a grudge against him for that very ability to appear effective at such a moment. Mimi stood leaning against the wall as though scarcely able to support herself. Her dress was all awry and covered with feathers, and her cap cocked to one side, while her eyes were red with weeping, her legs trembling under her, and she sobbed incessantly in a heartrending manner as ever and again she buried her face in her handkerchief or her hands. I imagine that she did this to check her continual sobbing without being seen by the spectators. I remember, too, her telling Papa, the evening before, that Mamma's death had come upon her as a blow from which she could never hope to recover; that with Mamma she had lost everything; but that "the angel," as she called my mother, had not forgotten her when at the point of death, since she had declared her wish to render her (Mimi's) and Katenka's fortunes secure for ever. Mimi had shed bitter tears while relating this, and very likely her sorrow, if not wholly pure and disinterested, was in the main sincere. Lubotshka, in black garments and suffused with tears, stood with her head bowed upon her breast. She rarely looked at the coffin, yet whenever she did so her face expressed a sort of childish fear. Katenka stood near her mother, and, despite her lengthened face, looked as lovely as ever. Woloda's frank nature was frank also in grief. He stood looking grave and as though he were staring at some object with fixed eyes. Then suddenly his lips would begin to quiver, and he would hastily make the sign of the cross, and bend his head again.
Such of those present as were strangers I found intolerable. In fact, the phrases of condolence with which they addressed Papa (such, for instance, as that "she is better off now" "she was too good for this world," and so on) awakened in me something like fury. What right had they to weep over or to talk about her? Some of them, in referring to ourselves, called us "orphans"-- just as though it were not a matter of common knowledge that children who have lost their mother are known as orphans! Probably (I thought) they liked to be the first to give us that name, just as some people find pleasure in being the first to address a newly-married girl as "Madame."
In a far corner of the room, and almost hidden by the open door, of the dining-room, stood a grey old woman with bent knees. With hands clasped together and eyes lifted to heaven, she prayed only--not wept. Her soul was in the presence of God, and she was asking Him soon to reunite her to her whom she had loved beyond all beings on this earth, and whom she steadfastly believed that she would very soon meet again.
"There stands one who SINCERELY loved her," I thought to myself, and felt ashamed.
The requiem was over. They uncovered the face of the deceased, and all present except ourselves went to the coffin to give her the kiss of farewell.
One of the last to take leave of her departed mistress was a peasant woman who was holding by the hand a pretty little girl of five whom she had brought with her, God knows for what reason. Just at a moment when I chanced to drop my wet handkerchief and was stooping to pick it up again, a loud, piercing scream startled me, and filled me with such terror that, were I to live a hundred years more, I should never forget it. Even now the recollection always sends a cold shudder through my frame. I raised my head. Standing on the chair near the coffin was the peasant woman, while struggling and fighting in her arms was the little girl, and it was this same poor child who had screamed with such dreadful, desperate frenzy as, straining her terrified face away, she still, continued to gaze with dilated eyes at the face of the corpse. I too screamed in a voice perhaps more dreadful still, and ran headlong from the room.
Only now did I understand the source of the strong, oppressive smell which, mingling with the scent of the incense, filled the chamber, while the thought that the face which, but a few days ago, had been full of freshness and beauty--the face which I loved more than anything else in all the world--was now capable of inspiring horror at length revealed to me, as though for the first time, the terrible truth, and filled my soul with despair.
 
第二天深夜，我很想再看她一眼。”我克制住不由自主的惧怕心清，轻轻地开了门，踮着脚走进大厅。
棺材停在房间当中的一张桌子上，周围是插在高大的银烛台里的残烛；教堂的诵经员坐在房间的遥远的角落里，用柔和而单调的声音朗诵圣诗。
我停在门口开始张望；但是，我的眼睛哭得那么厉害，神经受了极大的刺激，以至什么都分辨不出；烛光、锦缎、天鹅绒、高烛台、粉红色镶花边的枕头、花环、缀着缎带的帽子，还有一样透明的苍白如蜡的东西，这一切都怪异地融成一片。我站到椅子上想看看她的脸；但是在那里我又看见那浅黄色的、透明的东西。我不能相信这就是她的脸。我更加聚精会神地凝视着它，渐渐认出了她那可爱的、熟悉的面貌。当我肯定这就是她的时候，我恐怖得颤抖了；但是，为什么那双闭着的眼睛是那么深陷？为什么这么苍白可怕，一边脸颊的透明皮肤上还有个黑班呢？她整个的面部表情为什么那么严肃、那么冷冰冰的？为什么嘴唇那么苍白，嘴形那么美好、那么肃穆，露出那么一种非人间所有的宁静，使我凝视着它，就毛骨惊然呢？……
我凝视着，感到有一股不可思议的、不可克服的力量把我的目光吸引到那张毫无生气的脸上。我目不转睛地望着它，但是我的想像却描绘出一幅幅洋溢着生命和幸福的图景。我忘记躺在我面前的这具死尸，忘记我象凝视与我的回忆毫无关系的东西一样凝视着的这具尸体，就是她。我一会儿想像她已经死去，一会儿又想她还活着，活跃、高兴、含着微笑；随后，我所凝视着的那张苍白面庞上的某种特征突然使我大吃一惊；我想起可怕的现实境界，战栗起来，但是仍旧望着。幻想又代替了现实，现实的意识又破坏了幻想。终于想像疲倦了，它不再欺骗我。现实的意识也消失了，我完全失神了。我不知道，我在这种状态下滞留了多久，也不知道这是什么情况；我只知道，我一时间失去了自我存在的意识，体验到一种崇高的、难以形容的悲喜交集的快感。
可能在她向极乐世界飞升时，她的美妙的灵魂会悲哀地望一望她把我们撇下的这个世界；她看到我的悲哀，怜悯起来。于是含着圣洁的怜悯的微笑，爱怜横溢地降到尘世，来安慰我，祝福我。
门咯吱一响，另一个来换班的诵经员走进大厅。这个声音惊醒了我，涌上心头的第一个念头就是：我既没有哭，而且以一种根本不会令人感动的姿态站在椅子上，那个诵经员可能认为我是个冷酷无情的孩子，由于怜悯或者好奇才爬上椅子；于是，我画了个十字，行了个礼，就哭起来。
现在回忆我当时的印象，觉得只有那种一刹那间的忘我状态才是真正的悲哀。丧礼前后我不住地哭，十分悲伤，但是我羞于回忆这种悲伤的心情，因为这里面总是混杂着一种爱面子的感情：有时是希望显示我比任何人都哀痛，有时考虑我对别人发生的作用，有时是一种无目的的好奇心，使我观察起米米的帽子或者在场人们的脸。我轻视自己，因为我没有体验到一种纯粹是悲哀的心情，于是就极力隐瞒着不让其他任何人知道；因此，我悲哀是不真诚、不自然的。况且，一想到我自己是不幸的，就感到一阵愉快，极力要唤起不幸的意识，这种自私的情感，比其他的一切更甚地压制了我心中真正的悲哀。
在极度悲哀之后往往如此，我平静地酣睡了这一夜。当我醒来时，我的眼眶里干涸无泪，神经也十分平静。十点钟叫我们去参加出殡前的祭祷。房间里挤满了家仆和农奴，他们都眼泪汪汪地来向女主人告别。在丧仪中，我大哭了一场，画了十字，深深地行了礼，但心里并不曾祈祷，而且相当冷淡；我只关心他们给我穿的新的小燕尾服腋下很紧，我在盘算跪下时怎样不要把裤子弄得太脏，并且偷偷地打量所有参加仪式的人。父亲站在棺材头上，苍白得象张白纸，分明好容易才忍住眼泪。他那穿着黑燕尾服的高大身姿，他那惨白的富于表情的面孔和在他画十字、行礼时用手触地，从神甫手中接过一支蜡烛，或者走到棺材跟前时的那种象平时一样优雅而稳重的举动，都是极其动人的；但是，不知道为什么，我不喜欢他当时能显得这么动人。米米靠墙站着，好象快要倒下去似的；她的衣服皱成一团，粘满绒毛，帽子也歪到一边；哭肿了眼睛通红，头不住摇晃；她不住地用令人肝肠寸断的声调哭泣，一直用手帕和手捂着脸。我觉得，她这么做是为了遮住脸不让旁人看见，好假哭一阵以后休息一会儿。我记得前一天她对爸爸说，妈妈的逝世对她来说是一种她根本经受不起的极其可怕的打击，妈妈的逝世夺去了她的一切，这个天使（她这样称呼妈妈）临终也没有忘记她，并且表示愿意永远保障她和卡简卡的未来。她讲这话的时候痛哭流涕，也许她的悲哀是真诚的，但是这种感情并不是绝对单纯的。柳博奇卡穿着一件缀着丧章的黑衣服，满面泪痕，垂着脑袋，偶尔望一眼棺材，这时她的脸上流露出的只是一种稚气的恐惧。卡简卡站在她母亲身边，尽管哭丧着脸，却象往常一样红润。性情开朗的沃洛佳在悲哀的时刻也是神情开朗的：他有时沉思地站着，眼睛盯着什么东西，有时他的嘴突然歪斜起来，于是他赶快画个十字，俯首行礼。所有参加丧礼的人，我都觉得难以忍受。他们对我父亲所说的安慰的话，如“她在天上更美满”，“她不是为尘世而生的”等等，都引起我的一种恼怒的心情。
他们有什么权利谈论她和哭她呢？他们有的人提到我们时，管我们叫孤儿。好象他们不提，我们自己就不懂得没有母亲的孩子被人家这样称呼似的！他们好象很喜欢带头这样称呼我们，就象人们通常急着抢先称呼新娘子为madame一样。 ①
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①madame：法语“夫人刀”。
在大厅远远的角落里，跪着一个屈身弓背、白发苍苍的老妇人，几乎是躲在餐室敞着的门后。她合着手，举目望天，她没有哭，只是在祈祷。她的心灵飞到上帝身边，请求上帝把她和她在世界是最爱的那个人结合在一起，她确信这一点不久就会实现。
“这才是真正爱她的人！”我心里想，开始问心有愧起来。
追悼会结束了；死者的脸没有盖上，所有参加仪式的人，除了我们，都挨次到棺材前去吻她。
在最后去向死者告别的人中有一个农妇，她怀中抱着一个五岁模样的漂亮女孩，天知道她为什么把这个女孩抱来。这时，我无意中把湿手帕掉在地上，正要去拾；但是我刚弯下腰去，一声充满恐怖的可怕的惨叫使我在吃一惊，即使我活到一百岁，也忘不了这个喊声；我一想起来全身就不寒而栗。我抬起头，只见那个农妇站在棺材旁的一张凳子上，吃力地抱住那个女孩，女孩挥动着小手，吃惊的小脸向后仰着，瞪着眼睛凝视着死人的脸，用一种怕人、狂乱的声音哭号起来。我哇的一声哭出来，我想，我的声音比使我大吃一惊的那个声音还要可怕，于是，我就跑出屋去了。
这时我才明白，为什么会发出那种和神香的味道混在一块、充满大厅的强烈而难闻的气味。我一想到那张几天前还那么美丽、那么温柔的面孔，我在世界上最爱的人的面孔竟会引起恐怖，仿佛使我第一次明白了沉痛的真理，使我心里充满了绝望。
Chapter 28 Sad Recollections
Mamma was no longer with us, but our life went on as usual. We went to bed and got up at the same times and in the same rooms; breakfast, luncheon, and supper continued to be at their usual hours; everything remained standing in its accustomed place; nothing in the house or in our mode of life was altered: only, she was not there.
Yet it seemed to me as though such a, misfortune ought to have changed everything. Our old mode of life appeared like an insult to her memory. It recalled too vividly her presence.
The day before the funeral I felt as though I should like to rest a little after luncheon, and accordingly went to Natalia Savishna's room with the intention of installing myself comfortably under the warm, soft down of the quilt on her bed. When I entered I found Natalia herself lying on the bed and apparently asleep, but, on hearing my footsteps, she raised herself up, removed the handkerchief which had been protecting her face from the flies, and, adjusting her cap, sat forward on the edge of the bed. Since it frequently happened that I came to lie down in her room, she guessed my errand at once, and said:
"So you have come to rest here a little, have you? Lie down, then, my dearest."
"Oh, but what is the matter with you, Natalia Savishna?" I exclaimed as I forced her back again. "I did not come for that. No, you are tired yourself, so you LIE down."
"I am quite rested now, darling," she said (though I knew that it was many a night since she had closed her eyes). "Yes, I am indeed, and have no wish to sleep again," she added with a deep sigh.
I felt as though I wanted to speak to her of our misfortune, since I knew her sincerity and love, and thought that it would be a consolation to me to weep with her.
"Natalia Savishna," I said after a pause, as I seated myself upon the bed, "who would ever have thought of this? "
The old woman looked at me with astonishment, for she did not quite understand my question.
"Yes, who would ever have thought of it?" I repeated.
"Ah, my darling," she said with a glance of tender compassion,
"it is not only 'Who would ever have thought of it?' but 'Who, even now, would ever believe it?' I am old, and my bones should long ago have gone to rest rather than that I should have lived to see the old master, your Grandpapa, of blessed memory, and Prince Nicola Michaelovitch, and his two brothers, and your sister Amenka all buried before me, though all younger than myself--and now my darling, to my never-ending sorrow, gone home before me! Yet it has been God's will. He took her away because she was worthy to be taken, and because He has need of the good ones."
This simple thought seemed to me a consolation, and I pressed closer to Natalia, She laid her hands upon my head as she looked upward with eyes expressive of a deep, but resigned, sorrow. In her soul was a sure and certain hope that God would not long separate her from the one upon whom the whole strength of her love had for many years been concentrated.
"Yes, my dear," she went on, "it is a long time now since I used to nurse and fondle her, and she used to call me Natasha. She used to come jumping upon me, and caressing and kissing me, and say, 'MY Nashik, MY darling, MY ducky,' and I used to answer jokingly, 'Well, my love, I don't believe that you DO love me. You will be a grown-up young lady soon, and going away to be married, and will leave your Nashik forgotten.' Then she would grow thoughtful and say, 'I think I had better not marry if my Nashik cannot go with me, for I mean never to leave her.' Yet, alas! She has left me now! Who was there in the world she did not love? Yes, my dearest, it must never be POSSIBLE for you to forget your Mamma. She was not a being of earth--she was an angel from Heaven. When her soul has entered the heavenly kingdom she will continue to love you and to be proud of you even there."
"But why do you say 'when her soul has entered the heavenly kingdom'?" I asked. "I believe it is there now."
"No, my dearest," replied Natalia as she lowered her voice and pressed herself yet closer to me, "her soul is still here," and she pointed upwards. She spoke in a whisper, but with such an intensity of conviction that I too involuntarily raised my eyes and looked at the ceiling, as though expecting to see something there. 'Before the souls of the just enter Paradise they have to undergo forty trials for forty days, and during that time they hover around their earthly home." [A Russian popular legend.]
She went on speaking for some time in this strain--speaking with the same simplicity and conviction as though she were relating common things which she herself had witnessed, and to doubt which could never enter into any one's head. I listened almost breathlessly, and though I did not understand all she said, I never for a moment doubted her word.
"Yes, my darling, she is here now, and perhaps looking at us and listening to what we are saying," concluded Natalia. Raising her head, she remained silent for a while. At length she wiped away the tears which were streaming from her eyes, looked me straight in the face, and said in a voice trembling with emotion:
"Ah, it is through many trials that God is leading me to Him. Why, indeed, am I still here? Whom have I to live for? Whom have I to love?"
"Do you not love US, then?" I asked sadly, and half-choking with my tears.
"Yes, God knows that I love you, my darling; but to love any one as I loved HER--that I cannot do."
She could say no more, but turned her head aside and wept bitterly. As for me, I no longer thought of going to sleep, but sat silently with her and mingled my tears with hers.
Presently Foka entered the room, but, on seeing our emotion and not wishing to disturb us, stopped short at the door.
"Do you want anything, my good Foka?" asked Natalia as she wiped away her tears.
"If you please, half-a-pound of currants, four pounds of sugar, and three pounds of rice for the kutia." [Cakes partaken of by the mourners at a Russian funeral.]
"Yes, in one moment," said Natalia as she took a pinch of snuff and hastened to her drawers. All traces of the grief, aroused by our conversation disappeared on, the instant that she had duties to fulfil, for she looked upon those duties as of paramount importance.
"But why FOUR pounds?" she objected as she weighed the sugar on a steelyard. "Three and a half would be sufficient," and she withdrew a few lumps. "How is it, too, that, though I weighed out eight pounds of rice yesterday, more is wanted now? No offence to you, Foka, but I am not going to waste rice like that. I suppose Vanka is glad that there is confusion in the house just now, for he thinks that nothing will be looked after, but I am not going to have any careless extravagance with my master's goods. Did one ever hear of such a thing? Eight pounds!"
"Well, I have nothing to do with it. He says it is all gone, that's all."
"Hm, hm! Well, there it is. Let him take it."
I was struck by the sudden transition from the touching sensibility with which she had just been speaking to me to this petty reckoning and captiousness. Yet, thinking it over afterwards, I recognised that it was merely because, in spite of what was lying on her heart, she retained the habit of duty, and that it was the strength of that habit which enabled her to pursue her functions as of old. Her grief was too strong and too true to require any pretence of being unable to fulfil trivial tasks, nor would she have understood that any one could so pretend. Vanity is a sentiment so entirely at variance with genuine grief, yet a sentiment so inherent in human nature, that even the most poignant sorrow does not always drive it wholly forth. Vanity mingled with grief shows itself in a desire to be recognised as unhappy or resigned; and this ignoble desire--an aspiration which, for all that we may not acknowledge it is rarely absent, even in cases of the utmost affliction--takes off greatly from the force, the dignity, and the sincerity of grief. Natalia Savishna had been so sorely smitten by her misfortune that not a single wish of her own remained in her soul--she went on living purely by habit.
Having handed over the provisions to Foka, and reminded him of the refreshments which must be ready for the priests, she took up her knitting and seated herself by my side again. The conversation reverted to the old topic, and we once more mourned and shed tears together. These talks with Natalia I repeated every day, for her quiet tears and words of devotion brought me relief and comfort. Soon, however, a parting came. Three days after the funeral we returned to Moscow, and I never saw her again.
Grandmamma received the sad tidings only on our return to her house, and her grief was extraordinary. At first we were not allowed to see her, since for a whole week she was out of her mind, and the doctors were afraid for her life. Not only did she decline all medicine whatsoever, but she refused to speak to anybody or to take nourishment, and never closed her eyes m sleep. Sometimes, as she sat alone in the arm-chair in her room, she would begin laughing and crying at the same time, with a sort of tearless grief, or else relapse into convulsions, and scream out dreadful, incoherent words in a horrible voice. It was the first dire sorrow which she had known in her life, and it reduced her almost to distraction. She would begin accusing first one person, and then another, of bringing this misfortune upon her, and rail at and blame them with the most extraordinary virulence, Finally she would rise from her arm-chair, pace the room for a while, and end by falling senseless to the floor.
Once, when I went to her room, she appeared to be sitting quietly in her chair, yet with an air which struck me as curious. Though her eyes were wide open, their glance was vacant and meaningless, and she seemed to gaze in my direction without seeing me. Suddenly her lips parted slowly in a smile, and she said in a touchingly, tender voice: "Come here, then, my dearest one; come here, my angel." Thinking that it was myself she was addressing, I moved towards her, but it was not I whom she was beholding at that moment. "Oh, my love," she went on. "if only you could know how distracted I have been, and how delighted I am to see you once more!" I understood then that she believed herself to be looking upon Mamma, and halted where I was. "They told me you were gone," she concluded with a frown; "but what nonsense! As if you could die before ME!" and she laughed a terrible, hysterical laugh.
Only those who can love strongly can experience an overwhelming grief. Yet their very need of loving sometimes serves to throw off their grief from them and to save them. The moral nature of man is more tenacious of life than the physical, and grief never kills.
After a time Grandmamma's power of weeping came back to her, and she began to recover. Her first thought when her reason returned was for us children, and her love for us was greater than ever. We never left her arm-chair, and she would talk of Mamma, and weep softly, and caress us.
Nobody who saw her grief could say that it was consciously exaggerated, for its expression was too strong and touching; yet for some reason or another my sympathy went out more to Natalia Savishna, and to this day I am convinced that nobody loved and regretted Mamma so purely and sincerely as did that simple- hearted, affectionate being.
With Mamma's death the happy time of my childhood came to an end, and a new epoch--the epoch of my boyhood--began; but since my memories of Natalia Savishna (who exercised such a strong and beneficial influence upon the bent of my mind and the development of my sensibility) belong rather to the first period, I will add a few words about her and her death before closing this portion of my life.
I heard later from people in the village that, after our return to Moscow, she found time hang very heavy on her hands. Although the drawers and shelves were still under her charge, and she never ceased to arrange and rearrange them--to take things out and to dispose of them afresh--she sadly missed the din and bustle of the seignorial mansion to which she had been accustomed from her childhood up. Consequently grief, the alteration in her mode of life, and her lack of activity soon combined to develop in her a malady to which she had always been more or less subject.
Scarcely more than a year after Mamma's death dropsy showed itself, and she took to her bed. I can imagine how sad it must have been for her to go on living--still more, to die--alone in that great empty house at Petrovskoe, with no relations or any one near her. Every one there esteemed and loved her, but she had formed no intimate friendships in the place, and was rather proud of the fact. That was because, enjoying her master's confidence as she did, and having so much property under her care, she considered that intimacies would lead to culpable indulgence and condescension, Consequently (and perhaps, also, because she had nothing really in common with the other servants) she kept them all at a distance, and used to say that she "recognised neither kinsman nor godfather in the house, and would permit of no exceptions with regard to her master's property."
Instead, she sought and found consolation in fervent prayers to God. Yet sometimes, in those moments of weakness to which all of us are subject, and when man's best solace is the tears and compassion of his fellow-creatures, she would take her old dog Moska on to her bed, and talk to it, and weep softly over it as it answered her caresses by licking her hands, with its yellow eyes fixed upon her. When Moska began to whine she would say as she quieted it: "Enough, enough! I know without thy telling me that my time is near." A month before her death she took out of her chest of drawers some fine white calico, white cambric, and pink ribbon, and, with the help of the maidservants, fashioned the garments in which she wished to be buried. Next she put everything on her shelves in order and handed the bailiff an inventory which she had made out with scrupulous accuracy. All that she kept back was a couple of silk gowns, an old shawl, and Grandpapa's military uniform--things which had been presented to her absolutely, and which, thanks to her care and orderliness, were in an excellent state of preservation--particularly the handsome gold embroidery on the uniform.
Just before her death, again, she expressed a wish that one of the gowns (a pink one) should be made into a robe de chambre for Woloda; that the other one (a many-coloured gown) should be made into a similar garment for myself; and that the shawl should go to Lubotshka. As for the uniform, it was to devolve either to Woloda or to myself, according as the one or the other of us should first become an officer. All the rest of her property (save only forty roubles, which she set aside for her commemorative rites and to defray the costs of her burial) was to pass to her brother, a person with whom, since he lived a dissipated life in a distant province, she had had no intercourse during her lifetime. When, eventually, he arrived to claim the inheritance, and found that its sum-total only amounted to twenty-five roubles in notes, he refused to believe it, and declared that it was impossible that his sister-a woman who for sixty years had had sole charge in a wealthy house, as well as all her life had been penurious and averse to giving away even the smallest thing should have left no more: yet it was a fact.
Though Natalia's last illness lasted for two months, she bore her sufferings with truly Christian fortitude. Never did she fret or complain, but, as usual, appealed continually to God. An hour before the end came she made her final confession, received the Sacrament with quiet joy, and was accorded extreme unction. Then she begged forgiveness of every one in the house for any wrong she might have done them, and requested the priest to send us word of the number of times she had blessed us for our love of her, as well as of how in her last moments she had implored our forgiveness if, in her ignorance, she had ever at any time given us offence. "Yet a thief have I never been. Never have I used so much as a piece of thread that was not my own." Such was the one quality which she valued in herself.
Dressed in the cap and gown prepared so long beforehand, and with her head resting, upon the cushion made for the purpose, she conversed with the priest up to the very last moment, until, suddenly, recollecting that she had left him nothing for the poor, she took out ten roubles, and asked him to distribute them in the parish. Lastly she made the sign of the cross, lay down, and expired--pronouncing with a smile of joy the name of the Almighty.
She quitted life without a pang, and, so far from fearing death, welcomed it as a blessing. How often do we hear that said, and how seldom is it a reality! Natalia Savishna had no reason to fear death for the simple reason that she died in a sure and certain faith and in strict obedience to the commands of the Gospel. Her whole life had been one of pure, disinterested love, of utter self-negation. Had her convictions been of a more enlightened order, her life directed to a higher aim, would that pure soul have been the more worthy of love and reverence? She accomplished the highest and best achievement in this world: she died without fear and without repining.
They buried her where she had wished to lie--near the little mausoleum which still covers Mamma's tomb. The little mound beneath which she sleeps is overgrown with nettles and burdock, and surrounded by a black railing, but I never forget, when leaving the mausoleum, to approach that railing, and to salute the, plot of earth within by bowing reverently to the ground.
Sometimes, too, I stand thoughtfully between the railing and the mausoleum, and sad memories pass through my mind. Once the idea came to me as I stood there: "Did Providence unite me to those two beings solely in order to make me regret them my life long?"
 
妈妈已经不在了，但是我们的生活还是照老样子过下去；我们按照一定的钟点就寝和起床，还住在那些房间里；早点、晚茶、午饭、晚饭，都照往常的时间开；桌椅都摆在原来的地方，家里和我们的生活方式没有丝毫变化；只是她不在了……
我觉得，经过这样的不幸，一切都应该有所改变；我们的日常生活方式，在我看来是对她的悼念的一种侮辱，它清清楚楚地提醒我她不在了。
出殡的前一天，吃过午饭，我因了，于是到娜达丽雅•萨维什娜的房间里去，打算躺在她那柔软的羽毛床垫上，钻进暖和的绗过的被子。我进去时，娜达丽雅•萨维什娜躺在床上，大概是睡着了；听见我的脚步声，她微微欠起身来，掀开她盖在头上防苍蝇的羊毛披巾，扶正包发帽，坐到床边。
由于以前我时常到她的房里午睡，她猜到我的来意，于是一面从床边站起来，一面说：
“怎么样，我的宝贝，你大概是来休息的吧？躺下吧！”
“您怎么啦，娜达丽雅•萨维什娜？”我说，拉住她的胳臂，“我根本不是为这个来的……我是来……您自己也很累呀，快躺下吧。”
“不，少爷，我已经睡够了，”她对我说（我知道，她三昼夜没有睡了）。“况且，现在也睡不着，”她长叹了一声补充说。
我想跟娜达丽雅•萨维什娜谈谈我们的不幸：我知道她那份真诚和爱，因此同她抱头大哭一场对我会是一种安慰。
“娜达丽雅•萨维什娜，”我说，沉默了一会儿，坐在她的床上，“您料到这事了吗？”
老妇人带着莫名其妙和好奇的神色望了望我，大概不明白我为什么问她这个。
“谁会料到这事呢？”我重复了一句。
“噢，我的少爷，”她说着，投给我一个最温柔的同情的目光，“不但没有料到，就是现在我也不能设想啊！象我这样的老太婆，老早就该让我这把老骨头歇歇了；我何必还活着呢？我的老主人，你的外祖父，愿上帝保佑他的灵魂！尼古拉•米哈伊洛维奇公爵、他的两个兄弟、他的妹妹安娜，全都逝世了，他们都比我年轻，我的少爷，现在，显然是因为我的罪恶，她也比我先去了。这是上帝的旨意！上帝把她带走，是因为她配得上，上帝那里也需要好人呀。”
这种纯朴的想法给了我很大的慰藉，我更移近娜达丽雅•萨维什娜一些。她把手交叉在胸前，向上望了一眼；她那深陷的潮润的眼睛里流露出深沉而平静的悲哀。她坚信上帝不会使她同她全心全意地爱了多年的人分离多久了。
“是的，我的少爷，好象不久以前我还抚育她，用襁褓包住她，她管我叫‘娜莎’。她常常跑到我跟前，用小胳臂搂住我，开始吻我，说：
“我的娜莎，我的美人儿，你是我的母火鸡！”
“我就开玩笑说：‘不对，小姐，您并不爱我；等您长大了，结了婚，您就会忘了您的娜莎。’她想了一阵说：“不，要是不能把娜莎带去，我宁愿不结婚；我永远也不离开娜莎。’现在她离开我，不等着我了。您故去的妈妈，她多么爱我呀！说真的，她谁不爱呢？是的，少爷，千万不要忘记您的母亲；她不是凡人，而是天使。等她的灵魂将来到了天国里的时候，她还会爱您，为您高兴。”
“为什么您说，娜达丽雅•萨维什娜，‘将来到了天国的时候呢？’”我问。“我想，她现在已经在那里了。”
“不，少爷，”娜达丽雅•萨维什娜压低声音说，在床上坐得更挨近我，“她的灵魂现在就在这儿。”
她指指上面。她几乎是用耳语声说的，声音里充满了感情和确信。我不由自主地抬起眼来，望望檐板，在那里找寻什么东西。
“我的少爷，一个正直的灵魂必须经过四十道苦难，过了四十天，才能升到天堂，因此可能还留在自己家里。……”
她这样继续谈了好久，谈得那么朴实，那样满怀信心，好象在谈她亲眼看见的、谁都不会发生丝毫怀疑的、十分平常的事情一样。我屏息凝神地听着她讲，虽然对她的话并不十分懂，却完全相信她。
“是的，少爷，现在她就在这儿，望着我们，也许还在听我们说话呢。”娜达丽雅•萨维什娜结束说。
接着，她低下头，默不作声了。她需要一块手帕擦干落下的眼泪；她站起来，直勾勾地望着我的脸，用激动得发抖的声音说：
“通过这件事，上帝使我更接近他好几步。现在，这儿还给我留下什么呢？我为谁活着呢？我爱谁呢？”
“难道您不爱我们吗？”我责备说，几乎忍不住掉下泪来。
“天知道我多么爱你们这些宝贝，但是我从来没有，而且也不能，象爱她那样爱任何一个人。”
她说不下去了，转过身去，痛哭起来。
我再也不想睡了；我们面对面不声不响地坐着哭泣。
福加走进屋来；他看见我们这种情景，大概不愿意惊动我们，就停在门口，默默地、怯生生地张望着。
“你有什么事，福加？”娜达丽雅•萨维什娜问道，用手帕揩着眼泪。
“要一磅半葡萄干，四磅糖，三磅黍米，做八宝供饭 ① 。”
--------
①八宝供饭：举行丧礼的供在死者面前的饭。
“就来，就来，亲爱的，”娜达丽雅•萨维什娜说着，连忙吸了一撮鼻烟，快步走到箱子那边。当她在尽自己认为是十分重要的职责时，由我们的谈话所引起的悲哀连最后一点点痕迹都没有了。
“为什么要四磅？”她唠叨说，拿出糖在天平上称一称，“三磅半就够了。”
于是她从天平上取下几小块。
“昨天我刚给了他们八磅黍米，现在又来要，真不象话！随你的便，福加•狄米尼奇，但是这个万尼卡就高兴家里现在乱糟糟的，我再也不给黍米了：也许他想这样就可以混水摸鱼了。不，凡是主人的财产，我都不会马马虎虎。谁见过这样的事啊？要八磅！”
“怎么办呢？他说都用完了。”
“哦，好吧，在这儿，拿去！给他吧！”
她从同我谈话时那样令人感动的样子转变到埋怨唠叨和斤斤计较，当时使我大为吃惊。以后我考虑这一点时，才理解到，不管她的心里多么难受，她还有足够的精力去料理自己的事务，习惯的力量使她去完成日常的工作。悲哀对她发生那么强烈的影响，使她不觉得有必要来掩饰她能从事其他事情的事实；她甚至不会理解，怎么有人会产生这样的想法。
虚荣心同真正的悲哀是完全矛盾的感情，但是这种感情在人类天性中是那么根深蒂固，连最沉痛的悲哀都难得把它排除掉。在悲哀的时刻，虚荣心表现为希望显得伤心、不幸、或者坚强；我们并不承认这种卑鄙的愿望，但是它们从来，甚至在最沉痛的悲哀中，也不离开我们，它削弱了悲哀的力量、美德和真诚。但是娜达丽雅• 萨维什娜遭到的不幸使她悲痛万分，所以她的心灵中没有剩下半点私念，她只是照习惯行事。
给了福加所要的粮食，又提醒他要做馅饼来款待神甫以后，她就把他打发走，自己拿起编织的袜子，又在我旁边坐下来。
我们又谈起那些事情来，又哭了一阵，又擦了眼泪。
我同娜达丽雅•萨维什娜的谈话每天都要重复；她那沉静的眼泪和温和而虔诚的言语，使我轻松，使我得到安慰。
但是，不久以后我们就离别了。丧礼后三天，我们全家搬到莫斯科，我注定再也见不到她了。
我们到莫斯科以后，外祖母才得到这个可怕的消息，她悲伤欲绝。我们不能去见她，因为她整整一个星期都人事不省；医生们为她的生命担忧，尤其是因为她不但不肯眼药，而且不同任何人讲话，不睡觉，不吃任何东西。有时候，她孤单单地坐房里的安乐椅上，突然笑起来，随后又干哭一阵，她抽风，用疯狂的声音喊出一些荒谬或者可怕的话。这是损害了她的健康的第一个巨大的悲哀，这种悲哀使她陷入绝望。她需要为了自己的不幸而迁怒于人，于是就说些吓人的话，异常严厉地恐吓什么人，从椅子上跳起来，迈着迅速的大步在房里踱来踱去，随后就昏倒在地上。
有一次我到她的房里去，见她象往常一样坐在安乐椅上，显得很平静；但是，她的眼神使我大吃一惊。她的眼睛睁得大大的，目光茫然若失，毫无生气；她直勾勾地凝视着我，然而大概并没有看见我。她的嘴唇慢慢露出一丝微笑，她用动人的、温柔的声调说：“到这儿来，我的好孩子；来呀，我的宝贝！”我以为她是对我说的，于是走近些，但是她并不是望着我。“啊，要是你知道，我的心肝，我有多么痛苦，现在你来了我又多么高兴……”我明白她是在想像中见到了妈妈，于是我停住了。“人家对我说你不在了，”她接着说，皱皱眉头。“简直是胡说！难道你会死在我前头吗？”于是她以发出可怕的、歇斯底里的大笑声来。
只有会爱得强烈的人们，才能体会到强烈的痛苦；但是，那种对于爱的强烈要求正可以用作她们对抗悲伤的药剂，可能治愈他们。因此，人的精神力量比体力更富于生命力。悲伤从来也折磨不死人。
过了一个星期，外祖母能哭出来了，好些了。她清醒以后首先想到的就是我们，她对我们更加慈爱了。我们一直不离开她的安乐椅；她轻轻地哭泣，谈着妈妈的事情，温存地爱抚我们。
看见外祖母这么伤心，没有人会认为她是夸大了她的悲伤，那种悲伤的表现是猛烈而动人的；但是我，不知什么缘故，却更同情娜达丽雅•萨维什娜，我至今依然确信，没有人象那个心地纯洁、富于感情的人那样真挚而朴实地爱着妈妈，那么沉痛地哀悼她。
随着妈妈的逝世，我的幸福的童年也就结束了，开始了一个新的时期——少年时期；但是由于我对娜达丽雅•萨维什娜——我再也见不到她，她对我的个性和感情的发展和方向有过那么强有力的好影响——的回忆是属于第一个时期的，关于她和她的逝世我想再说几句。
我们离开以后，后来听留在乡下的人们对我讲，她因为没有事干，感到十分寂寞。虽然所有的箱子还由她掌管，她不断地翻箱倒柜，清理，晾晒，放好；但是她觉得缺少了她从小就习惯的、老爷们的乡间宅邸里的那种喧哗和忙乱。悲伤，生活方式的改变，没有事干，不久就发展成一种在她身上早有苗头的老年病。我母亲死后整整一年，她就得了水肿病，卧床不起了。
我想，娜达丽雅•萨维什娜孤零零地、举目无亲地生活在彼得洛夫斯科耶那幢空荡荡的大房子里固然很难过，而在那里死去可就会更加难过了。家里人人都很敬爱娜达丽雅•萨维什娜，但是她同任何人都没有交情，而且以此自豪。她认为，以她这种管家的地位，享有主人的信任，掌管着那么多装满各种各样物品的箱子，如果同任何人有交情，一定会使她徇私，迁就姑息，为了这个缘故，或者因为她同其他的仆人们毫无共同之处，她避开所有的人，总说她在家里跟谁都不沾亲带故，为了主人家的东西她对谁都是铁面无私。
她用热诚的祈祷向上帝述说自己的感情，从中寻求，并且找到了安慰；但是有时，在我们大家都容易遇到的感情脆弱的时刻，生物的眼泪和同情能令人获得最好的慰藉，她就把她的小哈巴狗放到床上（它的黄眼睛盯着她，舐她的手），同它讲话，一边爱抚它，一边轻轻地哭泣。当那只哈巴狗可怜地吠叫时，她就极力使它平静下来，说：“够了，不用你叫，我也知道我快死了！”
她临死前一个月，从自己的箱子里取出了些白棉布、白纱布和粉红丝带；靠着她的使女的帮助，给自己做了一件白衣服和一顶白帽子，把她丧礼上需要的一切最细小的东西都准备好了。她把主人的箱子也都清理好，一丝不苟地照着清单点交给管家的妻了。随后，她拿出以前我外祖母给她的两件绸衣服、一条古色古香的披巾，还有一件我外祖父的绣金军眼，也是交给她随她处置的。由于她小心保存，军服上的绣花和金带仍旧是崭新的，呢子也没有被虫蛀。
临死前她表示了这样一个愿望：把这些衣服中的一件，粉红色的那件，给沃洛佳做睡衣或者棉袄；另一件，棕色方格的，给我派作同样用场；披巾给柳博奇卡。我们中间谁先做了军官，她就把那件军服遗赠给哪个。她的其余的东西和金钱，除了四十卢布留作她的丧礼和超度灵魂之用外，她都给了自己的弟弟。她弟弟是个早就被解放了的农奴，住在一个遥远的省份里，生活十分放荡，因此她活着的时候同他一直没有任何来往。
当娜达丽雅•萨维什娜的弟弟来接受遗产时，结果死者的全部财产只值二十五个卢布票，他不相信这点，而且说，一个老太婆在有钱人家待了六十年，而且掌管着一切，省吃俭用了一辈子，连破布烂片都爱惜，居然什么也没有留下，这是不可能的。但是事实就是如此。
娜达丽雅•萨维什娜被病魔缠了两个月，她以真正基督徒的忍耐精神忍受着痛苦，既不抱急，也不诉苦，仅仅按照她的习惯，不住地呼唤上帝。在临死前一个钟头，她怀着平静的喜悦心情作了忏悔，领了圣餐，举行了临终涂油礼。
她请求家里所有的人饶恕她可能使他们受到的委屈，请求接受她仟悔的华西里神甫转告我们大家，说她不知道如何感激我们的恩典，并且说，如果由于她愚昧无知得罪了什么人的话，请求我们饶恕她。“但是我从来没有做过贼，我敢说，我从来没有偷过我主人的一针一线！”这是她最重视的自己身上的美德。
她穿戴上她准备好的衣服和帽子。把胳臂肘支在枕头上，同神甫一直谈到最后，当她想到她没有给穷人留下什么的时候，她掏出十个卢布，请求神甫在教区分给他们；随后她画了个十字，躺下来，最后又长叹了一声，带着愉快的笑容，呼唤了一声上帝。
她毫无悔恨地离开了人间，她不怕死，把死当作一种天惠。人们常常这么说，但是实际上这么想的却是多么少啊！娜达丽雅•萨维什娜能够不怕死，是因为她是怀着坚定不移的信念，完成了福音书上的训诫死去的。她一生都怀着纯洁、无私的爱和自我牺牲的精神。
如果她的信念能够更高尚，她的生命能够献给更远大的目标。结果会怎样呢？难道这个纯洁的灵魂就因此受到较少的敬爱和赞美吗？
她在这一生完成了最美好、最伟大的事业，毫无悔恨，毫无畏惧地死去了。
遵照她的遗愿，她被埋葬在距离我母亲坟墓前的小礼拜堂不远的地方。她长眠在一个长满荨麻和荆棘的小土墩下，四周围着黑色的栏杆。当我走出小礼拜堂的时候，我从来不忘记走到栏杆跟前，叩个头。
有时我在小礼拜堂和黑栏杆之间默默地站着。沉痛的回忆突然涌上我的心头。我想：难道上天把我同这两个人结合在一起，就是为了使我终身为她们惋惜吗？……