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 salon1 and entered on tiptoe.
In the middle of the room, on a table, lay the coffin2, with wax candles burning all round it on tall silver candelabra. In the further corner sat the chanter, reading the Psalms3 in a low, monotonous4 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 mingle5 together in a strange blur--the candles, the brocade, the velvet6, the great candelabra, the pink satin cushion trimmed with lace, the chaplet of flowers, the ribboned cap, and something of a transparent7, 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 shuddered8 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 majestic10, so expressive11 of an unnatural12 calm that, as I looked at them, a chill shudder9 ran through my hair and down my back?
Somehow, as I gazed, an irrepressible, incomprehensible power seemed to compel me to keep my eyes fixed13 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 corpse14 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 ascended15 to a better world, her beautiful soul had looked down with longing16 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 compassion17.
The door creaked as the chanter entered who was to relieve his predecessor18. The noise awakened19 me, and my first thought was that, seeing me standing20 on the chair in a posture21 which had nothing touching22 in its aspect, he might take me for an unfeeling boy who had climbed on to the chair out of mere23 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 miserable24, 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 bonnet25 and the faces of all present. The mere circumstance that I despised myself for not feeling grief to the exclusion26 of everything else, and that I endeavoured to conceal27 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 annulled28 any element of sincerity29 in my woe30.
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 requiem31.
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 graceful32, 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 rite33.] 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 grudge34 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 awry35 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 sobbed36 incessantly37 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 sobbing38 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 disinterested39, was in the main sincere. Lubotshka, in black garments and suffused40 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 lengthened41 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 "orphans42"-- 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 bent43 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 steadfastly44 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 frenzy45 as, straining her terrified face away, she still, continued to gaze with dilated46 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, mingling47 with the scent48 of the incense49, filled the chamber50, 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。
收听单词发音 |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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psalms
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| n.赞美诗( psalm的名词复数 )；圣诗；圣歌；(中的) | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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annulled
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| v.宣告无效( annul的过去式和过去分词 )；取消；使消失；抹去 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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requiem
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| n.安魂曲，安灵曲 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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rite
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| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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orphans
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| 孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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