Chapter 9 in hometown

in hometown one Donetsk Railway.A deserted train station, white in color, stands alone on the grassland, the walls are scorched by the sun, without any shadow, it looks like there is no one here.Here the train left you, and drove away, its rumbling still audible at first, then finally silent. . . . The vicinity of the station is deserted, and there is not a single carriage but yours.You just sit in a carriage (this is extremely pleasant after a train ride), and walk along the avenue on the steppe, and gradually you will see scenes that are not seen near Moscow, the vastness, the monotony, and the charm. .Prairie, prairie, and nothing else.In the distance is an ancient tomb or a windmill.Bullock carts carrying coal. ... The birds fly low over the plain, flapping their wings rhythmically, making people drowsy.Hot weather.An hour or two passed, but it was still grassland, grassland, and ancient tombs in the distance.Your coachman talked about this and that, often pointing aside with his whip, and he talked at length, nothing more than trivial matters, while your soul was in peace and did not want to think about the past. . . . A troika came for Vera Ivanovna Karzina.The coachman put her luggage away and began to straighten the harness.

"Everything is just as it was before," Vera said, looking around. "I was a little girl last time I was here, almost ten years ago. I remember old Boris came to fetch me in the carriage. Well, is he still alive?" " The coachman didn't answer a word, just gave her an angry Ukrainian look, and climbed into the driver's seat. From the railway station it was a journey of about thirty versts.Vera was also fascinated by the charm of the grassland, forgetting the past and only thinking about how vast and free it is here.She was healthy, intelligent, beautiful, young (she was just twenty-three), and it was precisely this kind of expanse and freedom that had been lacking in her life up to now.

Prairie, steppe. ... The carriage was running fast, and the sun was rising higher and higher. When she was a child, the grasslands in June seemed not so colorful and lush.The grass is full of flowers, green, yellow, lavender, and white.There was a scent of flowers and the sun-heated earth.There are some strange blue birds on the road. ... Vera has long since lost the habit of praying, but now restraining her drowsiness, she murmured: "Lord, please bless me to have a good time here." She was calm and comfortable, and seemed willing to look at the grassland like this and sit in a carriage for the rest of her life.Suddenly, a deep ravine appeared beside the road, overgrown with young oaks and young alder trees.There was a wave of dampness blowing towards my face, probably there was a stream below.On this side, on the edge of the cliff, a flock of partridges fluttered into flight.Vera remembered that they used to take a walk beside this cliff in the evening, so the manor must be very close!Sure enough, poplar trees and barns appeared in the distance, and a puff of black smoke rose from the side, which was the burning of old straw.At this moment her aunt Tasha came to meet her, shaking her handkerchief; her grandfather was standing on the terrace.Oh, what a joy!

"Darling! dear!" said her aunt, screaming like hysteria. "Our true mistress has come! Know that you are our mistress, our queen! Everything here belongs to you! My dear, beauty, I am not your aunt, but your obedient slave !" Apart from her aunt and grandfather, Vera has no relatives left.Her mother had long since died, and her father, an engineer, had returned from Siberia three months earlier and had died in Kazan.Her grandfather had a big white beard, was very fat, had a ruddy complexion, suffered from asthma, and walked with a cane, with his stomach straight.Her aunt was a woman of forty-two, wearing a fashionable dress with puffed sleeves and a tight waist, clearly trying to look younger and still trying to be attractive.She walked with small steps, and at the same time her spine was trembling.

"Will you like us?" she said, putting her arms around Vera. "Aren't you proud?" Everyone said thanksgiving prayers according to Grandpa's heart, and then had a long meal, so for Vera, her new life began.They prepared her the best room, and covered it with all the rugs in the house, and put many flowers in it.In the evening she lay down on her comfortable, wide, soft bed, covered with a silk quilt that smelled of long-stored clothes, and she laughed with delight.Her aunt Daxia came in for a while to say good night to her. "Well, you're back at last, thank God," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"As you can see, we're doing pretty well, nothing better than that. Just one thing: your grandpa's gone! Terrible! He's wheezing, and his memory is bad. Do you remember? He used to be in good health, strong Great! He's a very angry man. . . . He used to jump up whenever a servant got his way, or if something happened to him, and cry, "Twenty-five slaps on him!"Take the birch slivers! ' But now he's much nicer, and he can't be heard shouting.Besides, it's not that kind of time now, baby, it's not fun to hit people.Well, of course, why beat people, but it's not right to spoil them. "

"Auntie, are they still being beaten now?" Vera asked. "Sometimes, the manager beats them, but I don't want to. May the Lord bless them! Your grandfather can't hold back his old temper. Sometimes he raises his cane and swings it a few times, but he doesn't want to beat him." Aunt Daxia yawned, and she made a sign of the cross on her mouth first, and then on her right ear. "Is life dull here?" Vera asked. "How can I say yes to you? Now the landlords have moved away and don't live here anymore. But, baby, some factories have been built nearby, such as engineers, doctors, mining technicians, and many more! Of course, there are amateurs. There are performances, concerts, but mostly card games. They often come to us by car. Dr. Neshapov from the factory often comes. He is very beautiful and attractive! He loves your picture I'm into you. I made up my mind and thought: Well, this is also Verochka's fortune. He is young and beautiful, and has a fortune, in a word, he is worthy of it. Well, to be honest Yes, you are also a fiancée that is hard to find in the world. You are from a high-class family, and our property has been mortgaged, but what does it matter? The business is very good, and it is not abandoned. I also have a share in this, but in the future It's yours. I'm your obedient slave. Fifteen thousand my dead brother, your father. . . . Oh, but I see your eyelids are closing. Sleep then. ,child."

The next day Vera took a long walk around the house.There was an old garden there, not pretty, without a path, and sitting on a slope, inconveniently, completely deserted, probably they thought it a superfluous thing in the family business.There are many snakes here.The hoopoes were flying around under the trees, calling, "Woo-t-t-t!" From the tone of the voice, it sounded as if it was going to remind someone of something.Below was a river with tall reeds growing along its banks, and on the other side, half a verst from the bank, was a village.Vera walked from the garden to the field, looking into the distance, thinking of her new life in her native land, and trying to figure out what kind of future awaited her.This vastness of the steppe, this beautiful tranquility, said to her that happiness was approaching, perhaps already here; indeed, thousands of people would say: a young, healthy, educated man living in his own On the farm, what happiness is this!At the same time, the monotonous and uninhabited openness of this endless field terrified her, and sometimes it was clear that this quiet green monster would devour her life and turn it into nothing.She is young, elegant, and loves life; she graduated from aristocratic girls' high school, learned to speak three foreign languages, read many books, and traveled with her father; Settled down, doing nothing all day, from the garden to the field, and from the field to the garden, and then just sat in the house and listened to grandpa panting?But what to do?Where are you going to hide?She couldn't find an answer anyway.When she was walking home, she thought to herself: She may not be happy here, it is much more interesting to come here from the station in a carriage than to live here.

Physician Neshapov came from the factory.He is a doctor, but three years ago he took a stake in the factory and became one of the owners of the factory. Although he still does medical work now, he doesn't think medical treatment is his main job.From the outside, he was a pale, well-proportioned, fair-haired man in a white waistcoat; but read his heart, and what was going on in his head.That's difficult.After he said hello, he kissed his aunt Daxia's hand, and then stood up from time to time to offer someone a chair or give up his own seat, always very serious, and did not speak. He is well-organized and his voice is not low, but for some reason, his first sentence is always hard to hear and understand.

"Do you play the piano?" he asked Vera, getting up suddenly because she had dropped her handkerchief. He sat in silence from noon until twelve o'clock at night, and Vera didn't like him very much.She found it vulgar in a white waistcoat in the country, and his overly polite gestures, manners, and his serious white face with black eyebrows were tiresome.She felt that his frequent silence was probably due to his underdeveloped intelligence.But my aunt said happily after he left: "Well, how is it? It's charming, isn't it?" two Aunt Daxia is in charge of the family business.She narrowed her waist very thin, and the bracelets on her two arms were worn out from the rest of the way. Stepping, the spine trembled uncontrollably.For some reason she had to wear a pince-nez whenever she spoke to the steward or the peasants.Grandpa always sits in one place playing cards or taking a nap.By lunch and dinner time, he ate a lot.The servant brought him today's dish, yesterday's dish, Sunday's leftover cold pie, the servant's corned beef, and he devoured it all at once.Every meal made such an impression on Vera that later on, when she saw sheep being herded, or flour brought in from the mill, she thought, "Grandpa will eat them all." Some of the time he was silent, concentrating on eating or playing cards, but sometimes, when he saw Vera while eating, he was moved and said softly: "My unique granddaughter! Veroqi Card!"

As he spoke, tears glistened in his eyes.Or, with a sudden flush in the face and a thickened neck, he looked at the servant viciously, tapped his stick, and asked, "Why don't you bring horseradish?" In winter he lived a life of being completely out of the house, and in summer he occasionally rode into the fields to look at the oats and grass, and when he came home he would wave his cane and say that everything was messed up without him. "Your grandpa is in a bad mood," Aunt Daxia whispered. "Well, it's nothing now, but in the past, it was a big deal: "Slap him twenty-five times!Take the birch slivers! '" My aunt complained that everyone was getting lazy, no one was working, and the land did not bring in much income. Indeed, there was no agricultural operation here; I have nothing to do at home, wasting my time. But everyone is running around all day long, calculating this and that, busy in this house, getting up at five o'clock in the morning, often can hear: "Bring", "Take it," "Go find it," and by evening the servants were exhausted as usual. My aunt changed cooks and maids every week; sometimes she dismissed them as immoral, and sometimes they said they were too tired No one in this village came to work, so I had to go to a distant village to hire someone. There was only one girl in this village, Alyona, who was still working here, and she didn't leave, because her family was full of people. She lived on her wages. This Alyona was a small, pale, foolish little girl who spent her days cleaning rooms, serving meals, lighting fires, mending, and doing laundry, but it was always thought that she was busy and stomped on her boots. thumping sound, instead it hinders others from doing things in this house. She is afraid that her employer will quit her job and be sent home; because of fear, she often drops things on the floor and breaks dishes, and they will detain her Afterwards, her mother and grandmother came here and knelt down in front of her aunt Daxia to intercede. The guests come once a week, sometimes more frequently.At such times, my aunt would go into Vera's room and say, "You'd better go and sit with the guests, or they will think you proud." Vera went to accompany the guests and played a long "vent" with them, or she played the piano while the guests danced.My aunt, full of joy and panting from the dance, came up to her and whispered: "You want to make love to Marya Nikiforovna." On December 6th, St. Nicholas' Day, many guests came at once, about thirty of them.They played Vent until late into the night, and many stayed for the night.In the morning they sat down to play cards again, and then they ate, and after dinner Vera went to her room to rest away from the conversation and the smoke, but there were guests there too, and she almost cried out of despair.In the evening, when everyone was about to leave for home, she cheered up that they were going to go at last, and said, "Sit down for a while!" The guests tired her out and made her feel restrained; and at the same time (almost every day), as soon as it got dark, she wanted to get out of the house and get into a carriage and go wherever she wanted--to visit a factory or a nearby landowner, and play cards there. , dance, play games, have dinner. ... The young men who worked in the factories and mines sometimes sang Little Russian songs, and they sang not badly.The songs they sing are always poignant.Or else they would gather together in the room and talk of the mines in the dim twilight, of the gold and silver treasures that had been buried in the ground of the steppe, of the tomb of Saul. ... As we talked, it was getting late, and sometimes there would be a sudden shout of "Help-Help-Ammonia". This was a drunk man walking, or someone was robbed in a nearby mine. Otherwise, the wind There was wailing in the furnace, blowing on the shutters, and then, after a while, alarm bells sounded in the church: it was the beginning of the storm. At all parties, picnics, and banquets, the most attractive woman was always Aunt Dasha, and the most attractive man was Neschapov, the doctor.In factories and manors, few people read aloud, and only marches and polkas were played on the piano, and young people were always violently arguing about things they didn't understand. They quarreled violently and in high tones, but Vera never met, strangely enough, such indifference and indifference anywhere else.It seems that they have no country, no religion, and no interest in society.When people talked about literature, or answered some abstract questions, Neshapov's face showed that he was not interested in these things. He hadn't read any books for a long time, and he didn't want to.He looked grave and expressionless, like a poorly drawn portrait, often wore a white waistcoat, was silent and unfathomable; but the ladies thought he was interesting, admired his manners, and envied Vivian. Pull, because he obviously likes her.Every time Vera returned from her visits she was troubled, and swore to herself that she would never go out again; but as the day wore on, and as soon as evening came, she hurried to the factory again, almost every day of the winter. She bought books, ordered magazines, and read them in her room.At night, lying in bed, she was still reading.When the clock in the hallway struck two or three, and her temples ached from reading, she sat up on the bed, thinking.What should I do?Where should I go?There were many ready-made answers to this damned nagging question, but none of them. Oh, how noble, how holy, how wonderful it is to serve the people, to alleviate their sufferings, to educate them!But she, Vera, did not know the people well.How to approach them?To her, the people were unfamiliar and uninteresting, and she could not stand the pungent smell in the peasant's hut, the cursing in the tavern, the unwashed children, the sickness of the peasant women.If you want her to walk a long way on the snow, freeze all over, and then sit in an airtight cabin and teach those children she doesn't like to read, no, that would be better than dead!Besides, you teach the peasants' children to read, but at the same time, Aunt Daxia collects the rent from those restaurants and fines the peasants, how absurd it is!There is so much talk about schools, village libraries, and universal education, but if all these acquainted engineers, factory owners, and ladies were not pretending to be good, but really believed that education was necessary, they would not be as they are now. Thus the teachers were given fifteen rubles a month and starved.Whether it is schools or talk about ignorance, it is only to deceive one's conscience, because they have five or ten thousand dessiatines of land, and they are indifferent to the people, which is shameful. The ladies always said of Neschapov, the physician, that he had a good heart and had opened a school for the factory.It is true that he built the school out of old bricks from the factory and spent about eight hundred rubles. At the inauguration of the school he was sung to "Live Long Live," but he was not always willing to give up his shares, he It may not have occurred to him that farmers are human beings like him, and they also need to be educated in universities, not just in simple schools like factories. Vera hated herself, and hated everyone.She picked up the book again, intending to read on, but after a while she sat up again, thinking.To be a doctor?But to be a doctor one had to pass Latin, and besides, she had an uncontrollable aversion to dead bodies and disease.If only I could be a mechanical engineer, a judge, a captain, a scientist, do a job that requires all my physical and mental powers, exhaust myself, and sleep soundly at night; if I can dedicate my life to What kind of career makes me an interesting person, is liked by interesting people, falls in love with someone, and has my own real family, that's good. ...but how to do it?Where do we start? Once, on a Sunday during Lent, my aunt came to her room early in the morning to fetch a parasol.Vera sat on the bed, put her head in her hands, and thought. "You ought to go to church, my dear," said my aunt, "or you'll be thought an infidel." Vera said nothing. "I can see you are bored, poor thing," said my aunt, kneeling by the bed; she loved Vera. "Honestly, are you bored?" "I'm so bored." "Beauty, my empress, I am your obedient slave, and I only wish for your well-being and happiness. . . . Tell me, why don't you want to marry Neshapov? What more do you want, child?Forgive me for being outspoken, my dear, but it's no use picking and choosing, and we're not dukes. ... Time flies, you are not seventeen years old. ...I really don't understand!He loves you and adores you! " "Well, my Lord," said Vera angrily, "but how should I know? He was silent himself, and never said a word." "He's ashamed, darling. . . . In case you say no to him!" Then her aunt left, and Vera stood in the middle of the room, not knowing whether to get dressed or go back to sleep.What a nasty bed.Take a look out of the window, there are also bare trees, gray snow, nasty jackdaws, and pigs to be eaten by grandpa. ... "Really," she thought to herself, "maybe it's better to get married!" three For two days in a row, my aunt walked back and forth with her tear-stained, powdered face, moaning and sighing constantly while eating, and staring blankly at the statue.No one knew what she was worried about.At last she made up her mind, went to Vera's room, and said casually: "Well, boy, we're due to pay the interest on the bank loan, but the tenant hasn't paid us. Let me start with your father." Take some of the fifteen thousand left to you to pay the interest." Then my aunt spent all day making cherry jam in the garden.Alyona, blushing from the heat, ran now into the garden, now out of the house, now into the cellar.When my aunt was cooking the jam, her face was very serious, as if she was holding some religious ceremony.From her short sleeves peeked out two small, strong, haughtily directing hands, and the maid was running about and bustling about the jam, which she could not eat, At times like this one can feel the atmosphere of torment here. ...the smell of boiled cherries from the garden.The sun has set and the brazier has been removed, but the pleasant sweet smell still remains in the air.Vera sat on a bench and watched a new worker, a young soldier passing by, follow her directions to build a path.He scooped up the grass with a shovel and piled it onto a wheelbarrow. "Where were you in the army?" Vera asked him. "In Berdyansk." "Where are you going now? Going home?" "No, miss," replied the worker. "I don't have a home." "And where were you born and raised?" "In Orel province. Before I was a soldier, I lived with my mother in my stepfather's house; my mother was in charge, she was very respected, and I lived by her. When I was a soldier, I received a letter saying that my mother was dead. ...Now I don't seem to be happy to go back to that home. He is not my real father, so that home has become an outsider's home." "Then your own father is dead?" "I don't know, miss. I'm a bastard." At this moment, the figure of my aunt appeared in the window, and said: "Ilnefaut pasparlerauxgens ⑤ boy, go to the kitchen," she said to the soldier. "Go there and talk to someone." Then, like yesterday and always, it was supper, reading, sleepless nights, endless clichés.At three o'clock, the sun rose, and Alyona was already running around in the aisle, while Vera was still up and reading a book.There was the creaking of carts: it was the new workers in the garden. ... Vera sat at the window with a book, drowsy, and watched the soldier repairing the road for her. This task attracted her attention.The path was as flat and tidy as a belt, and she happily imagined what it would be like in the future when it was paved with yellow sand. Just after five o'clock, I could see my aunt coming out of the main room, wearing a long pink long coat with curling paper in her hair.She stood silently on the porch for about three minutes, then said to the soldier, "You take your ID card, go, God bless you. I can't have a bastard in my family." A heavy, resentful feeling flooded Vera's heart.She was angry and hated her aunt; she hated her aunt to an unbearable, abhorrent degree. ...but what to do?Interrupt her?To insult her?But what good is that?Suppose you fight her, drive her away, keep her from doing evil, suppose you stop her grandfather from waving his cane, but what's the use?This is tantamount to killing a mouse or a snake on an endless grassland.The vastness of space, the long winters, the monotony of life make one feel helpless, the situation seems hopeless, and one does not want to do anything, because whatever is done is useless. Alyona came in, bowed deeply to Vera, and then took out an armchair in order to dust off it. "It's time to tidy up the room," Vera said angrily. "go out!" Alyona was bewildered, too frightened to understand what Vera wanted her to do, and hurriedly cleared the chest of drawers. "I tell you, get out!" cried Vera, chilling; she had never been so angry before. "go out!" Alyona groaned like a bird, and dropped a gold watch on the carpet. "Get out!" Vera yelled, her voice changing.She jumped up, trembling all over. "Get her out, she's driving me crazy!" she went on, following Alyona quickly into the passage, stamping her feet. "Get out! Get the birch stick! Slap her!" Then she woke up suddenly, and ran out of the room in her original appearance, with her hair uncombed and face unwashed, wearing pajamas and slippers.She ran all the way to the familiar edge of the cliff, hiding in the weeds, so as not to be seen by anyone, and to avoid being seen. She lay there motionless on the grass, neither crying nor afraid, her eyes were looking at the sky, she did not froze, thinking calmly and clearly: something just happened that she will never forget and will never forgive for the rest of her life own business. "No, enough, enough!" she thought. "It's time to hold yourself tight now, or there will be no end to this kind of thing. . . . Enough!" At noon the doctor Neshapov drove across the ravine in a carriage to the estate. When she saw him, she quickly made a decision, she wanted to start a new life, she wanted to force herself to start, this decision could not settle her mind.Eyeing the doctor's shapely figure, she said, as if to lessen the austere nature of her decision, "He's all right. . . . We'll get on together somehow." She walks home.She was changing her clothes when her aunt Tasya came into her room and said: "Alyona has made you unhappy, my dear, and I have sent her home. Her mother beat her hard and Come here, weeping..." "Auntie," said Vera quickly, "I would like to marry Dr. Neshapov. Just go and talk to him. . . . I can't. . . . " She went out into the field again.As she strolled along, she made up her mind that when she was married, she would take care of the house, heal people, teach people to read, and do whatever the other women in her circle did.As for the feeling of being constantly dissatisfied with herself and others, and whenever she looks back on the past, she can see a long list of major mistakes standing in front of her like a mountain. She simply thinks that it is the real life she is destined to live. No more hope for a better life. ... You know, there is no better life!Beautiful nature, fantasy, music tell us one thing, real life tells us another.Obviously, happiness and truth lie somewhere outside of life. ... One should not live, one should be at one with this lush, endless, indifferent steppe, with its flowers, ancient tombs, and distant places, and then everything will be all right. ... A month later, Vera was already living in the factory. "Notes" ① Verochka is Vera's pet name. ② A card game played by one player. ③ A card game. ④ Refers to the hero in the ancient warrior song, the tomb of the legendary warrior Saul. ⑤French: Don't chat with servants. on the cart At half past eight in the morning they drove out of town. The road was dry and hot in the bright April sun, but there was snow in the ravines and in the woods.The cold, dark, long winter had not yet gone so far, and spring had come suddenly, but for Marya Vasilievna, who was now sitting in the cart, the warm weather made the spring Whether it is the warm, lazy, light-transmitting woods, or the dark flocks of birds flying over the large lake-like ponds in the wild, or the wonderful, unfathomable sky that makes people happy to fly up to , there is nothing new and interesting.She has been a teacher for thirteen years. During these years, how many times she has traveled to the city by car to collect her salary is beyond count, whether it is spring like now or rainy autumn Evening or winter is the same for her, she is always looking forward to one thing: to get to the destination as soon as possible. She had such a feeling as if she had lived in this area for a long time, nearly a hundred years.She felt that she knew every stone and every tree along the way from the city to her school.Here was her past, her present, and as for her future, she could think of no other prospect than the school, and the road to and from town, and then the school, and the road. ... She no longer recalls, and has almost forgotten, the past before she became a teacher.Once upon a time she had a father and a mother; they lived in a big house near the Red Gate in Moscow, but that period of life remained in her memory only a vague and hazy thing, like a dream scene.When she was ten years old, her father died, and not long after, her mother also died. ... She had an older brother who was an officer, and at first she still corresponded, but then her brother stopped replying, so the news was cut off.All that remained of the old days was a photograph of her mother, but that photograph had been damp in the school and now there was nothing to see but hair and eyebrows. When the car had gone about three versts, the old driver Xie Min turned around and said, "A government official was caught in the city. He was taken away. It is said that he and some Germans arrested the mayor in Moscow. Alexeyev was wounded." "Who told you this?" "It was in the newspaper of Ivan Yonov's restaurant." They were silent again for a long time.Marya Vasilievna thought about her school, and thought that there would soon be an examination, in which she would have to send four boys and one girl.She was thinking about the exam when Hanov, the landowner who had served as an examiner at her school last year, came up in a four-set carriage.When his carriage came alongside her, he recognized her and nodded. "Hello!" he said. "Are you going home?" This Hanov is a man in his forties, with a haggard face and a sluggish expression. He has begun to age obviously, but his appearance is still beautiful and attractive to women.He lived alone in his big estate and never came out to work.They said he didn't do anything at home except walk from one end of the room to the other, whistling, or play chess with his old footman.People also say that he likes to drink.Indeed, even the paper he brought with him smelled of perfume and wine when he took the exam last year.He was in new clothes then, and Marya Vasilevna liked him very much.She was always embarrassed when she sat next to him.She was used to seeing indifferent and experienced examiners, but this one couldn't even remember a prayer, and didn't know what to ask. He was very polite and attentive, and always gave the students five points. "I'm going to Buckkvist's," he went on to Marya Vasilievna, "but they say he's not at home." They left the avenue and turned to a country dirt road, with Hanov walking in front and Xie Min following.The four horses walked forward step by step along the dirt road, struggling to drag the heavy carriage stuck in the mud.Xie Min drove the car forward zigzagging on that dirt road, sometimes across the mound, sometimes across the grass, and often jumped off the cart to help the horse-drawn cart.Marya Vasilievna was thinking of school and of the exam, not knowing whether it was hard or easy.She was unhappy thinking of the Zemstvo, and she had found no one there yesterday.How unseemly!For two years she had been demanding the dismissal of the caretaker at the school, who did no work, was rude to her, and beat her students, but no one paid her any attention.It is difficult to find the chairman in the executive office. Even if he is found, he always has tears in his eyes and says he can't spare time.The school supervisor came to her school every three years, and he didn't know anything about his profession, because he worked in the tax bureau earlier, and he got the position of school supervisor only through favors.School meetings are seldom held, and where they are held is not known.The inspector was a countryman of limited literacy, the proprietor of a tannery, an ill-witted, rude man, and very friendly with the watchman.God knows who she should go to and ask for advice. ... "He is indeed beautiful," she thought to herself, glancing at Hanov. The roads are getting worse. ...their car drove into a wood.The road here is very narrow, the carriage cannot turn around, the ruts are deep, filled with water, and gurgling.Prickly branches hit people in the face. "What kind of road is this?" Hanov asked, laughing. The governess looked at him, wondering why this strange man lived here.在这个荒僻的地方，在这种满是泥泞、寂寞无聊的环境里，他的钱财、他的招人喜欢的外貌、他的文雅的风度对他能有什么用处呢？ 他在生活里没有得到任何好处，就拿眼前来说，他跟谢敏一样，在这极端恶劣的小道上慢腾腾地赶路，忍受同样的不方便。既然他能住在彼得堡，住在国外，那么何必住在这儿呢？看样子，要他这个阔人把这条坏路修成一条好路，免得受苦，免得看见他的车夫和谢敏的脸上露出绝望的神情，那是不算一回事的；然而他光是笑笑，显然，对他来说，什么都无所谓，他并不需要更好的生活。他心好，温和，天真，不了解这种粗鄙的生活，不熟悉它，就象在考试的时候不熟悉祷告辞一样。他仅仅捐给学校一些地球仪，就真诚地以为自己在民众教育方面是个有益的人和杰出的活动家。在这种地方谁需要他的地球仪啊！ “坐稳，瓦西列芙娜！”谢敏说。 大车猛的一歪，差点翻了。一个沉甸甸的东西滚到玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜的脚边来，这是她买来的东西。前面是一道爬上山去的粘土高坡，在弯曲的山沟里水声哗哗地响，水好象吞吃了这条路，在这种地方怎么能走车呢！马不住地打响鼻儿。哈诺夫走下车来，穿着他那件长大衣在路边走动。他觉得热了。 “什么样的路啊？”他又说，笑了。“照这样子不用很久就会把马车弄坏。” “谁叫您在这样的天气坐车出来！”谢敏严厉地说。“应该在家里待着才是。” “在家里，老大爷，闷得慌。我不喜欢待在家里。” 挨着老谢敏，他显得身材匀称，精神挺好，可是他的步态有一种刚刚露头的迹象，表现出他已经象个中了毒的、衰弱的、接近灭亡的人了。树林里仿佛忽然弥漫着酒的气味。玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜害怕起来，开始怜惜这个不知因为什么缘故正在走向灭亡的人。她蓦地产生一个念头：如果她是他的妻子或者他的妹妹，那么她似乎就会献出她的全部生命，一定要把他从灭亡里拯救出来。做他的妻子？生活却安排成这个样子，一方面让他独自一人住在大庄园里，另一方面让她独自一人住在偏僻的村子里，可是不知什么缘故，就连他和她互相亲近、彼此平等的想法都显得不可能，显得荒唐。实际上，全部生活的安排和人类关系的形成，已经到了不可理解的地步，只要你细细一想，就会感到可怕，心直往下沉。 “这真叫人不理解，”她想，“为什么上帝把漂亮的外貌、和蔼可亲的风度、忧郁而可爱的眼睛赐给软弱的、不幸的、无益的人呢？为什么它们那么招人喜欢呢？” “我们要在这儿往右拐弯了，”哈诺夫坐上马车，说。“再见！一路顺风！” 于是她又想起她的学生，想起考试，想起看守人，想起校务会议。等到风从右边带来越走越远的马车的响声，她这些思想就同另一些思想搀和在一起了。她打算想一想那双美丽的眼睛，想一想爱情，想一想永远也不会有的幸福。……做他的妻子？早晨天冷，却没有人给她生炉子，看守人不知到哪儿去了；学生们天一亮就来了，带来许多雪和泥，吵吵嚷嚷；一切都那么不方便，不舒适。她的住处只有一个小房间，厨房也在这儿。每天下课以后她总是头痛，吃过饭以后，感到心窝底下烧得慌。她得向学生们收齐木柴费和看守人的工钱，交给督学，然后恳求他，那个肥头大耳、蛮不讲理的乡下人，看在上帝分上送木柴来。夜里她总是梦见考试、农民、雪堆。由于过着这样的生活，她就变得苍老，粗俗了，变得不美丽，不灵活，笨手笨脚，仿佛她身子里灌了铅似的。她见了什么人都怕，当着执行处委员的面，或者当着督学的面，她总是站着，不敢坐下，她谈到他们当中任何一个人的时候，总是小心翼翼地用敬称。她引不起别人的喜爱，生活乏味地过下去，缺乏爱抚，缺乏友好的关切，缺乏有趣的熟人。处在她这种地位，假如她真是爱上一个什么人，那会是多么可怕的事啊！ “坐稳，瓦西列芙娜！” 又是一道上山的陡坡。 ... 她是由于贫困才做教师的，并没感到这个工作是她的使命。她从来也没有想到过使命，想到过教育的益处，她老是觉得在她的工作中最重要的不是学生，也不是教育，而是考试。 再者她哪儿有工夫想到使命，想到教育的益处呢？教师们、不富裕的医师们、医士们的工作都很繁重，他们甚至不去想自己在为理想服务，为民众服务，从而得到安慰，因为他们的头脑里经常装满了关于食粮、木柴、坏道路、疾病的念头。这种生活是艰苦而没有趣味的，只有象玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜这种不声不响地听命负重的人才会长久地熬下去；而那些活跃的、神经质的、敏感的、常谈到自己的使命，谈到为理想服务的人却会很快厌倦，丢掉这种工作。 谢敏尽量挑选干一点、近一点的路走，时而穿过一个草场，时而从人家的后院走；可是走到这个地方，一看，农民不让过路，走到那个地方又是教士的地，没有通道，再走到一个地方又是伊凡·约诺夫从地主老爷手里买下的一块地，周围掘了一道沟。他们屡次拨转马头往回走。 他们来到下戈罗季谢。小饭铺附近停着几辆大车，车上装着大瓶的浓硫酸，地上满是畜粪，粪下面还有雪。饭铺里有许多人，都是车夫，这儿弥漫着白酒、烟草、熟羊皮①的气味。人们大声谈话，安着滑轮的房门砰砰地响。隔壁是一家杂货铺，有人在拉手风琴，一分钟也不停。玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜坐下来喝茶。邻近的一张桌子边，有些农民在喝白酒和啤酒，他们浑身冒汗，那是由于刚喝过热茶，加上饭铺里闷热的缘故。 “你听着，库兹玛！”响起嘈杂的说话声。“那算得了什么！ 求主保佑！伊凡·杰敏狄奇，我能给你这么一下子！亲家，小心！ " 有一个身材矮小的农民，留一把黑胡子，麻脸，早就喝醉了，忽然因为一件什么事大惊小怪，难听地骂起来。 “你在那儿骂什么呀？你！”谢敏坐在远处，生气地搭腔说。 “难道你没看见这儿有一位小姐！” “小姐，……”有人在另一个墙角挖苦地跟着说。 "Bastard!" “我没什么，……”矮小的农民发窘地说。“对不起。我花我的钱，小姐花小姐的钱。……您好！” “你好！”女教师回答说。 “我满心感激您。” 玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜愉快地喝着茶，自己也象农民那样热得脸红起来，她又想起木柴，想起看守人。……“亲家，等一等！”从旁边桌子上传来说话声。“她是符亚左维耶村的女教师，……我们认得！她是个挺好的小姐。” “正派人！” 安着滑轮的房门老是砰砰地响，有些人走进来，有些人走出去。玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜坐在那儿，总是想那老一套，隔壁的手风琴也拉个不停。斑斑点点的阳光照在地板上，随后移到柜台上，墙上，最后完全不见了；可见太阳西斜，已是午后时分。旁边桌子上的农民们准备上路了。那个矮小的农民脚步有些歪斜，走到玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜跟前，向她伸出一只手，别人学他的样，也伸出手来告别，陆续走出去，安着滑轮的门就吱吱地叫，砰砰地响了九回. “瓦西列芙娜，动身吧！”谢敏招呼道。 他们上路了。马又慢腾腾地朝前走。 “不久以前这儿，在他们这个下戈罗季谢，造了一所学校，”谢敏回过头来说。“好大的罪过啊！” "how?" “听说执行处主席往腰包里揣了一千，督学也揣了一千，老师揣了五百。” “那个学校一共才值一千。造人家的谣言是不好的，老大爷。这都是胡说。” “我不知道。……人家怎么说，我也就跟着说说罢了。” 然而事情很清楚，谢敏不相信女教师的话。农民们不相信她。他们总是认为她的薪金太大，一个月有二十一个卢布（有五个也就够了），认为她从学生们那儿收来的木柴费和看守人的工钱，大部分都被她吞没了。那位督学的想法也跟所有的农民一样，而他自己却在木柴上捞好处，而且瞒着上司凭他的身分向农民们要薪金。 谢天谢地，这片树林总算走完了，从这儿起到符亚左维耶村都是平地。前面的路已经不多：过了那条河，再穿过铁道，就到符亚左维耶村了。 “你往哪儿赶车啊？”玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜问谢敏。“顺右边那条路过桥才对。” “为什么？这边也好走嘛。河又不很深。” “当心，别把我们的马淹死才好。” "how could be?" “瞧，哈诺夫也坐着车过桥了，”玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜看见右边远处有一辆四套马车，就说。“大概是他的车子吧？” “是他。多半没碰上巴克维斯特。真是笨货啊，求主怜恤，他们顺那条路走，何必呢？从这儿走足足可以近三俄里呐。” 他们的车子往河边驶去。夏天，这条河水浅，很容易涉水走过去，将近八月照例就干涸了，然而现在，在春汛之后，这条河大约有六俄丈宽，水流湍急，混浊，冰凉；从岸坡到水边有几条新的车辙，可见已经有人从这儿赶车过河了。 “往前走！”谢敏怒气冲冲而又提心吊胆地吆喝道，用力拉住缰绳，扬起胳膊肘，仿佛鸟儿扇动翅膀似的。 "Let's go!" 那匹马走进河里，水没到它的肚子上，它站住了，可是立刻又使足力气往前走，玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜的两只脚感到刺骨的寒冷。 “往前走！”她略微欠起身来，也喊道。 "Let's go!" 他们上岸了。 “这是怎么搞的，主啊，”谢敏一边整理马具，一边嘟嘟哝哝地说。“地方自治局简直该死。……”她的套鞋和靴子里都灌满了水，连衣裙和皮袄的底襟以及一只袖子都是湿的，滴着水。糖和面粉也浸了水，这是最叫人难受的了，玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜只能绝望地举起双手，击着掌说：“哎，谢敏啊，谢敏！……你这个人啊，真是的！……”在铁道的道口上，拦路杆放下来了：有一列特别快车正从火车站开来。玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜在道口那儿站住，等那列火车开过去，冷得周身发抖。符亚左维耶村已经看得清了，——那绿屋顶的学校，那十字架映着夕阳、闪闪发光的教堂，火车站上的窗子也亮着，火车头里冒出粉红色的烟子。……她觉得好象样样东西都在冷得发抖。 后来，列车来了，车窗射出明亮的光芒，象教堂上的十字架一样，刺得人眼睛痛。在一节头等客车的车厢台上站着一个女人，玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜仓卒中看了她一眼：这是母亲嘛！ 长得多么象啊！她的母亲也有那么浓密的头发，也生着那样的额头，也那么低着头。于是十三年来她头一次栩栩如生、历历在目地想起她的母亲、父亲、哥哥、莫斯科的住宅、养着小鱼的玻璃鱼缸，总之连细微末节都想起来了。她忽然听见弹钢琴的声音、她父亲的说话声，感觉自己象那时候一样年轻，美丽，打扮得漂漂亮亮，待在明亮、暖和的房间里，四周都是亲人；欢欣和幸福的感觉忽然涌上她的心头，她兴奋得用手心按住太阳穴，温柔而恳求地叫道：“妈妈！” 她哭了起来，自己也不知道为什么。正在这当口，哈诺夫坐着那辆四套马车来了，她看见他，就想象那种从来也没有过的幸福，微笑着对他点了点头，象对一个跟她平等、亲近的人那样，她觉得她的幸福，她的喜悦，在天空，在四处的窗子里，在树上放光。是啊，她父亲和母亲压根儿就没有死，她也压根儿没有做教师，那无非是一个漫长、沉闷、古怪的梦，如今她醒过来了。……“瓦西列芙娜，上车吧！” 忽然一切都消失了。拦路杆慢慢地升上去。玛丽雅·瓦西列芙娜索索地抖，冷得周身发僵，坐上那辆大车。那辆四套马车穿过铁道，谢敏跟上去。道口上的看守人脱掉帽子。 “瞧，前面就是符亚左维耶村。我们到了。” "Notes" ①指他们身上所穿的羊皮袄。