Chekhov's 1898 works stories at a friend's house A letter came in the morning: Dear Misha, you have completely forgotten us, come quickly, we want to see you.We both kneel down and beg you, come today and show us your bright eyes.We are anxiously waiting for you. tower and tile Kuzmingi on June 7 The letter is from Tatiana Alexeyevna Loseva, whom everyone called simply "" tower".But who is Wat?Podgoring recalled the long conversations, the mirth, the love affairs, the evening walks, the great company of girls and young women who then lived in Kuzminji and its vicinity, and recalled an ordinary picture. A lively, intelligent face with freckles that matched his dark brown hair was Tatyana's friend Varya, or Varvara Pavlovna.After graduating from medical school, she worked in a factory outside Tula, and now she seems to be visiting in Kuzmingi.

"Lovely Wa!" thought Podgoring, lost in memory. "How charming she is!" Tatiana and Varya were about the same age as he; but then he was a student and they were grown-up girls about to be married, and they regarded him as a child.Now, even though he was a lawyer and his hair was graying, they still called him Misha, thought him young, and said he hadn't experienced anything in life yet. He liked them very much, but he seemed to like them in recollection rather than really liking them.He is not familiar with their current situation, does not understand, very unfamiliar.Even this short, mischievous letter was unfamiliar, and they must have been writing it long and laboriously, with her husband Sergey Sergeyitch standing mostly behind Tatyana's shoulders as she wrote it. ... Kuzminji was given to the newlyweds as a dowry only six years ago, but he has been spoiled by this Sergey Sergeyitch, and now he has to go to the bank to pay or pay for the mortgage To pay, you always have to come to Podgoring for advice, just like asking for advice from a lawyer, and not only that, he has already asked him to borrow money twice.Apparently, at the moment they were going to ask him for ideas or to borrow money.

Kuzmingi isn't as attractive as he once was.It was a dreary scene. No more laughter, no excitement, no happy, carefree faces, no quiet moonlit night rendezvous, and above all, no more youth; besides, all those things are probably only charming in memory . ... Besides Ta and Va, there was Nadezhda, Tatiana's sister, who was always called his fiancée, whether jokingly or seriously; he had seen her grow up with his own eyes. As an adult, everyone expected him to marry her, and at one time he really fell in love with her and was going to propose to her, but now she was twenty-four years old, and he was still unmarried. ... "Well, what's going on here," he thought to himself now, rereading the letter in bewilderment. "But, it won't work if I don't go there, they will be angry..." He hadn't been to Rousseff's house for a long time, and this weighed on his conscience like a stone.He walked up and down the room for a while, thought for a while, and forced himself to make a decision to live with them for three days, to fulfill his obligations, and then to be free and at ease, at least until next summer. go again.

After breakfast, as he was leaving for the Brestsky station, he told the servants that he would be back in three days. It takes two hours by train from Moscow to Kuzminji, and then from the railway station, it takes about twenty minutes to take a carriage.From the station one could see the Tatiana grove and the three tall and narrow villas that Rousseff had begun to build but did not finish when he was engaged in various speculative businesses in the first few years of his marriage.It was not only these dachas that bankrupted him, but also various agricultural operations, and those frequent trips to Moscow, where he ate breakfast at the Slavyansky Arcade, ate at the Hermitage ②After lunch, in the evening he always went to Klein Bronnaya ③ or Sivodelka ④ to play with the gypsies (he called this "going away").

Podgoring himself also likes to drink, sometimes he drinks a lot, and he hangs out with women indiscriminately, but he is not active, indifferent, and feels no joy. He always felt disgusted by this kind of thing, he didn't understand people who felt much more free in Sivodelka than at home with decent women, he didn't like this kind of people; Something clean wrapped itself around him like a burdock.He didn't like Rousseff either, he thought he was not interesting, he couldn't do anything, he was a lazy person, and he felt disgusted more than once when he was with him. . . . As soon as he came out of the wood, Sergey Sergeyitch and Nadezhda came up to meet him.

"My dear, how have you forgotten us all?" said Sergey Sergeitch, who kissed him three times, and then put his arms around his waist. "You simply don't like us, my friend." He had a broad face, a heavy nose, and a rather sparse hazel beard.He combed his hair to the side like a businessman, trying to look like an ordinary, pure Russian.When he was talking, he sprayed the air from his mouth directly into the face of the other party, and when he was not talking, he would blow it through his nose, making a loud whistling sound.His well-nourished body and excessive satiety made him uncomfortable, and his constant puffing of his chest in order to breathe easier gave him an air of arrogance.Beside him stood his wife and sister Nadezhda, looking very delicate.She had flaxen hair, a pale face, kind and kind eyes, and a well-proportioned figure; whether she was pretty, Podgoring could not tell, for he had known her since she was a child, and was impressed by her features. used to it.Now she was wearing a white dress with an open neckline, and the impression she made on him of her long, bare, white neck was new and unpleasant.

"My sister and I have been waiting for you since morning," she said. "Varya is with us, and she is waiting for you." She took his arm, suddenly laughed for no reason, and let out a cry of ease, as if suddenly captivated by some thought.The fields of flowering rye, motionless in the still air, and the woods lit by the sun, were beautiful.Nadezhda, who was walking beside Podgoring, seemed to have never discovered the beauty of the scenery until now. "I'm coming to stay with you for three days," he said. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave Moscow before."

"No, no, you have completely forgotten us," said Sergey Sergeyitch, in a tone of good reproach. "Jamais de mavie!"⑤ he said suddenly, hitting a torreya at the same time. He has a habit of often surprising the other party during a conversation, saying a word that has nothing to do with the conversation in the form of exclamation, and snapping his fingers at the same time.He was always imitating somebody; if he rolled his eyes, or tossed his hair back carelessly, or pretended to be impassioned, it meant that he had been at the theater or at a party where a speech was made the day before. .Now he walks with short steps, without bending his knees, like a gouty person, and he is probably imitating someone.

"You know, Tanya ⑥ does not believe that you will come," said Nadezhda. "But Varya and I have a presentiment. I know for some reason that you will come by this train." "Jamais de Mavie!" repeated Sergey Sergeyitch. The two women were waiting on the terrace in the garden.Ten years ago Podgorin (he was a poor student at the time) taught Nadezhda arithmetic and history, and her house provided him with food and lodging; Varya was a student at the technical school at that time, and by the way, she was studying Latin with him. .And Tanya, at that time already a beautiful grown-up girl, thought of nothing but being in love, longing for love and happiness, eagerly longing, looking forward to the suitor she dreamed of day and night.Now in her thirties, she is still as beautiful and decent as before, wearing a loose blouse, with white and fat arms, she only cares about her husband and her two little girls.There was such an expression on her face that although she was talking and smiling now, she was thinking of other things, and she was always defending her love and her right to it, if anyone tried to take her away To her husband and children, she would jump on this enemy at any moment.She loved passionately, and felt that she was loved equally passionately, but jealousy and anxiety about her children were constantly tormenting her and preventing her from being happy.

After a lively meeting on the terrace, everyone, except Sergey Sergeyitch, went to Tatiana's room.The sun could not come in through the drawn curtains, and the room was so dark that a large bouquet of roses seemed to be of the same color.Podgorin sat down in an old armchair by the window, and Nadezhda sat on a low stool at his feet.He knew that besides the friendly reproaches, jests, and laughter which he now heard and brought to his vivid recollection, there would be unavoidable unpleasant conversations about IOUs and mortgages; Well, maybe it's better to talk about these things now, don't delay any longer, and get over it quickly, and then you can go to the garden for some fresh air. ... "Shall we get down to business first?" he said. "Is there any news from you Kuzmingji? Is everything going well in the Kingdom of Denmark?" "Our Kuzmingji is not doing well," Tatiana replied, sighing sadly. "Well, our business is terrible, terrible, as if it couldn't be worse," she said, pacing up and down the room excitedly. "Our estate is for sale. The auction is scheduled for August 7th. It has been advertised everywhere. Buyers are coming here, walking up and down the rooms, looking around. . . . Everyone has a right now. Went into my room and looked around. It may be legally fair, but it aggravates me and breaks my heart deeply. We have no money to give us, and no place to borrow it. In a word , dreadful, dreadful! I swear to you," she continued, stopping in the middle of the room, her voice trembling, tears welling in her eyes, "by all that is sacred, by the happiness of my child Well, I can't live without Kuzminji! I was born here, this is my nest, and if someone takes it from me, I can't bear it, I'll die of despair."

"It seems to me that you see things too darkly," said Podgoring. "Anything can get over it. Your husband will get a job, and you'll get on to a new track and a new way of living." "How can you say that!" exclaimed Tatiana; now she looked beautiful and powerful, ready to throw herself at any enemy who would take her husband, her children, her nest Her mood is clearly expressed on her face and her whole posture. "What a new life! Sergei is on the move, and he has been promised a job as a tax inspector somewhere in the Ufa or Perm provinces, and I can go anywhere, even in Siberia." Go, I'm going to live there for ten years, twenty years, but I have to know that sooner or later I'll come back to Kuzmingi. I can't live without Kuzmingi. I can't live, and I don't want to live again Go down. Don't want to!" she cried, stamping her foot. "You, Misha, are a lawyer," said Varya. "You are a lawyer. It is up to you to decide what to do about this." There was only one answer, which was both fair and reasonable: "There is no other way," but Podgoring could not make up his mind to say it directly, so he hesitated and muttered in a low voice: "I have to think about it. . . . think." There are two people in him.He, as a lawyer, sometimes handled vulgar cases, treated his clients arrogantly in court, always expressed his opinions frankly and sharply, and was not polite to his friends; Or around people he already knew well, he showed an unusually considerate attitude. He was shy, easily emotional, and could not speak directly.Whenever he saw tears, disapproving glances, fakery, or even ugly gestures, he would curl up in a ball, bewildered.Now Nadezhda sat at his feet, and he did not like her bare neck, which embarrassed him and made him wish he could go home.A year before he had once met Sergey Sergeyitch at a woman in Bronnaya, and now he felt very uncomfortable in the presence of Tatyana, as if he himself had participated in her husband's betrayal. act like.This conversation about Kuzmingi made him very difficult.He was used to letting all difficult and unpleasant questions be settled by the judges, or by the jurors, or simply by some letter of the law; Panic. "Misha, you are our friend, we all like you and consider you one of our own," Tatiana went on, "I tell you the truth: all hope is in you. For God's sake Please advise us: what should we do? Maybe we have to submit a petition? Maybe it’s not too late to transfer this estate to Nadya or Varya? . . . What should we do?" "Save her, Misha, save her," said Varya, lighting a cigarette. "You've always been a clever man. You've had little life experience, you haven't experienced much in life, but you've got a good head on your shoulders. . . . You'll help Tanya, I know." "It's something to think about. . . . Maybe I'll figure out something." They went for a walk in the garden and then out into the fields.Sergey Sergeyitch also went for a walk.He took Podgoring's arm and kept leading him to the front, obviously having something to talk to him about, probably about such a bad thing.It was hard work to walk and talk to Sergey Sergeyitch.Now and then he would kiss, and always three times, pulling people's arms, putting their arms around people's waists, blowing into people's faces, as if he was covered with sweet glue and was about to stick to people; The way in which he showed that he wanted something from Podgoring and was about to ask it made Podgoring very uncomfortable, as if the muzzle of a pistol was aimed at him. The sun went down and it got dark.Here and there along the railway line lights were lit, some green, some red. ... Varya stopped, looked at the lights, and began to read aloud: This road goes straight: narrow embankments, railway tracks, bridges, telegraph poles, on both sides are the bones of Russians, ... the number is endless! ... ⑨ "What's down there? Oh, my God, I've forgotten all about it!" We are always toiled whether it is hot or cold, bend our backs. ... She recited in a pleasant low voice, moved; her cheeks flushed with youth, and her eyes filled with tears.She became the old Varya, Varya, a student of the technical school.Listening to her recitation, Podgoring remembered that when he was a college student, he had memorized many good poems and liked to recite them. He has not yet straightened his stooped back, Always silent and silent. ... But Varya could not remember the following verse. ... She fell silent, and smiled weakly.After she recited, the green and red lights also seemed to start to look forlorn. ... "Oh, I forgot!" But Podgoring suddenly remembered that the poem had somehow been accidentally stuck in his memory since his university days.He slowly read in a low voice: The Russian people can withstand all kinds of pain, and they can also withstand the construction of this railway. …"It's just a pity," Varya remembered, interrupting his recitation, and read, "It's just a pity, neither I nor you have a share in this wonderful era!" She laughed and reached out to pat him on the shoulder. They went home and sat down to dinner.Sergey Sergeyitch imitated someone and casually tucked the corner of his napkin into his collar. "Let's have a drink," he said, pouring liquor for himself and Podgoring. "We old college students can drink, talk, and do things. I drink to your health, my friend, and you, to the old stupid idealist, may he remain an idealist until his death." The country is easy to change, but the nature is hard to change." Tatiana had been watching her husband tenderly at the dinner table, jealous, afraid that he might fall in love with another woman, and at the same time worried that he had eaten or drank something harmful.She felt that he was spoiled and worn out by the women, and this made her like him and at the same time caused her pain.Varya and Nadya also treated him tenderly, watching him uneasily, as if afraid that he would stand up suddenly and walk away from them.He wanted to pour himself another glass of wine, and Varya made an angry face and said: "You are hurting yourself, Sergey Sergeyitch. You are nervous, sensitive, easy to drink." Addicted. Tanya, tell someone to take the drink away." In general, Sergei Sergeyitch had always had great success with women.They liked his size, his physique, his big face, his idleness, his misfortune.They said that he was too good to spend money, that he was idealistic, that he was impractical, that he was honest and pure in soul, that he was not good at adapting to people and circumstances, and that was why he had nothing and couldn't find regular work.They all believed in him deeply, adored him, and their admiration had spoiled him to such an extent that he himself began to believe that he was an idealist, unrealistic, honest, pure-souled, a head above these women, much better. "Why don't you compliment my little girls?" said Tatiana, looking with love at her two little girls, who were plump and healthy, like two oval white loaves, which she gave They served two pots full of rice. "Just look at them! It is said that all mothers praise their children, but I assure you, I am not partial, and my little girls are really different. Especially the older ones." Podgoring kept smiling at her and the little girls, but he found it strange that this healthy, young, not stupid woman was actually a huge and complex organism, yet she put all her energy, all her life force into Consumed on this kind of uncomplicated and trivial work, such as building this nest, in fact, the nest has already been built without her worrying about it. "Perhaps it is necessary," he thought to himself, "but it is neither interesting nor clever." "Before he could yell alas, the bear jumped on him," said Sergei Sergeyitch, slapping the torreya at the same time. After dinner, Tatyana and Varya sat Podgorin down on a couch in the living room and began to talk to him in low voices, talking about the incident again. "It is our moral duty to save Sergey Sergey the Wizard," Varya said. "He has his weaknesses, he spends a lot of money and doesn't think about the difficult days ahead, But this is because he is too kind and generous. He has a pure childlike heart. If you give him a million dollars, he will use up none of them within a month and give them all to outsiders." "Notes" ① Mikhail's nickname. ②A fine hotel in Moscow. ③④ A restaurant similar to a nightclub on the outskirts of Moscow. ⑤ French: Never! ⑥ Tatiana's pet name. ⑦ Quoted from Shakespeare's tragedy "Hamlet". ⑧ Nadezhda's pet name. ⑨The verses here and below are all quoted from the poem "Railway" by Russian poet Nekrasov. ⑩Quoted from Krylov's fable "Peasant and Worker", the quotation is not completely accurate. "It's the truth, the truth," Tatiana said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I've suffered enough for him, but I have to admit, he's a great man." The two of them, Tatiana and Varya, could not help showing a little cruelty, and could not help reproaching Podgoring: "As for your generation, Misha, it is different!" "What kind of generation can we talk about here?" Podgoring thought to himself. "Losev is at most six years older than me. . . . " "Living in this world is not easy," said Varya, with a sigh. "A man is constantly threatened with calamity. Now people want to take your estate, now a relative is sick and you are afraid that he will die, every day. But what can be done about it, my friend. You must obey the highest will without complaint, and you must remember that nothing in this world happens by chance, and everything has a deep purpose. You, Misha, have not experienced much in the world, and have not suffered much. You'll laugh at me, so laugh at me, but I'll say it anyway: In the moments of my deepest apprehensions, there have been a few moments of enlightenment that has transformed my soul, as I know it now Nothing is accidental, everything that happens in our lives is inevitable." This Varya, who already had gray hair, in a fashionable dress with a bodice and puffed sleeves, this Varya who rolled a cigarette with long thin fingers that were trembling for no reason, this did not move at all. How different was Varya, who spoke so languidly and monotonously about mysticism, from the cheerful, chattering, fearless Varya who was a dark brown-haired junior college student. ... "It would be nice to put an end to this conversation!" Podgoring thought to himself, listening to her wearily. "Wa, sing a song," he said to her, in order to interrupt this talk of enlightenment. "You used to sing very well." "Ah, Misha, the past is past." "Then, read Nekrasov's poems." "I forgot all about it. I just read it out of nowhere." Despite her corset and puffed sleeves, she was visibly poor, living half-starved in the factory outside Tula.And it was clear that she was overworked.The heavy and monotonous work, her constant meddling and worrying in other people's affairs, had overtired her and grown old.Podgorin now looked at her sad, emaciated face, and thought that it was not Kuzminji and Sergey Sergeyitch, whom she was so concerned about, but herself who should be helped. Higher education and medical work did not seem to touch the woman in her. Like Tatiana, she loved weddings, births, christenings, long conversations about children, and novels that were scary but had a happy ending.In the newspapers she only read news about fires, floods, and great ceremonies.She very much hoped that Podgorin would propose to Nadezhda, and if it happened, she would be moved to tears. He did not know whether it had happened by chance or if Varya had arranged it on purpose, but he was left alone with Nadezhda.But he suspected that someone was spying on him, suspected that they had plans for him, and this suspicion alone made him very restrained and panicked.He felt that being with Nadezhda was like being in the same cage with her. "Let's go for a walk in the garden," she said. They went into the garden.He was dissatisfied, with chagrin, and did not know what to talk to her about.She, for her part, was cheerful, proud of his nearness to her, evidently satisfied, and perhaps full of sweet fantasies and hopes, that he would be staying here for three more days.He doesn't know whether she loves him or not, but he knows that she has known him very well, has a good impression of him, and still regards him as her teacher. Na's inner activities are the same, that is, she only thinks about love, and only wants to get married soon, have a husband, have children, and build her own nest.She had retained to this day the friendly feeling which is so often shown in children, and it is probable that she only respected Podgoring and liked him as a friend, not in him but in her love for Husband and children fantasy. "It's getting dark," he said. "That's right. The moon is coming up late now." They had been walking up and down the avenue near the house.Podgorin did not want to go into the depths of the garden: it was dark, so he had to take Nadezhda's arm and stay very close to her.There were figures moving on the terrace, and it seemed to him that Tatyana and Varya were watching him. "I want to discuss it with you," Nadezhda said, stopping. "If Kuzminji sells, Sergei Sergeich will go out to work, and then our lives will have to change completely. I am not going to go with my sister, we will be separated, because I don't want to be her A burden to the family. I have to work. I'm going to Moscow to get a job, earn my own money, and help my sister and her husband. You'll make up my mind, won't you?" Totally unfamiliar with labor, she was now embracing plans for the future, inspired by the idea of ​​an independent working life, and it showed on her face.To her, the idea of ​​her own labor helping others live seemed beautiful and poetic.He saw her white face and black eyebrows nearby, and remembered what a bright and bright female student she was, what a quality she had, and how happy it was to teach her homework.Now, she is probably not only a young lady longing for a fiancé, but also a clever and noble girl, extraordinary kindness, with a gentle and soft heart, this kind of heart is made of wax, and can be shaped into any shape she wants , if you put her in the right environment, she would make a wonderful woman. "Why not really marry her?" Podgoring thought to himself, but for some reason he was immediately terrified by the thought, and went back to the main room. In the living room, Tatiana sits at the piano, and her playing brings vivid memories of the past, when it was also in this living room that people played, sang, and danced until late at night, while the windows were open and the garden and the The birds by the river are also singing.Podgorin cheered up, played around, danced with Nadezhda, then with Varya, and sang.The corns on his feet made him uncomfortable, and he asked permission to change into Sergey Sergeyitch's sandals.Strange to say, when he put on these slippers, he felt that he was part of his family, their relatives ("like their brother-in-law..." the thought flashed through his mind), and he became more and more happy. up.Everyone looked at him and became lively and happy, as if they had become younger.Everyone's faces were bright and there was hope: Kuzmingji was saved!You know, it's easy to do: just look through the law books and find a way, or let Nadya marry Podgoring. ...Obviously, things have already taken shape. Nadya, flushed with happiness, with tears in her eyes, expecting something extraordinary to happen, twirled in the dance, her white dress puffed out to reveal her small, beautiful, Feet in flesh-colored socks. ... Satisfied, Varya took Podgorin's arm and whispered to him with a meaningful expression: "Misha, don't run away from your happiness. While it is in your hands, you Just hold on to it, otherwise, you will want to pursue it in the future, but the time is too late to catch up." Podgoring wanted to agree, to give hope, and even he himself already believed that Kuzmingji would be saved, that things would be easy. "'You will be the queen of the world...'" he sang, making a gesture, but then he suddenly remembered that there was nothing, nothing to do with these people, and he stopped singing , as if he had made some mistake. Then he sat down in the corner and said nothing, tucking his feet in other people's sandals under the chair. Looking at him, the others understood that things were beyond their control, and they all became quiet.The piano lid is closed.Everyone realized that it was getting late and it was time to go to bed. Tatiana blew out a large lamp in the living room. They prepared the bed for Podgoring in the annexe where he had been.Sergey Sergeich saw him off, holding the candle above his head, although the moon had already risen and it was very bright outside.The gravel rustled under their feet as they walked along a tree-lined path lined with lilac bushes. "He didn't have time to yell whoops, and the bear jumped on him," said Sergey Sergeyitch. It seemed to Podgoring that he had heard that phrase a thousand times.How he hated it!They went into the annexe, and Sergey Sergeyitch took a bottle and two glasses out of his baggy coat, and put them on the table. "It's brandy," he said. "It's a brand name. Varya is in the main room over there. You can't drink in front of her. When you drink, she starts talking about alcoholism. Here we are free. The brandy is very good. .” They sit down.This brandy is really good. "Let's drink to our hearts' content today," continued Sergei Sergeyitch, nibbling a lemon. "As a veteran college student, I like to pick myself up sometimes. This is essential. " His eyes still showed that he had something to do with Podgoring, that he was about to ask him for something. "Drink, old man," he went on, sighing, "or it's too bad. For us weirdos, the end is here, it's over.Idealism is out of fashion these days.Now that Lu Bu is in power, if you want not to be pushed aside, you have to kneel down in front of Lu Bu and kowtow respectfully.But I can't.I hate that kind of thing! " "When is the auction scheduled?" asked Podgoring, in order to change the subject. "August 7th. But I don't expect to save Kuzmingi at all, my dear. The amount owed is huge, and the property doesn't bring in any income, but loses money every year. It's not worth it. . . . Of course, Taney Ya is reluctant, this is her family's ancestral property, as for me, to be honest, I am even a little happy. I am not a country dweller at all. My base is a bustling big city, and my hobby is fighting! " He said something else, but it wasn't what he wanted to say at all.He stared at Podgoring closely, as if waiting for a suitable opportunity.Suddenly, Podgoring saw his eyes come closer, and felt his breath on his face. ... "My dear, help me!" said Sergey Sergeyitch, panting. "Give me two hundred rubles! I beg you!" Podgorin wanted to say that he himself was in a tight spot, and he thought it would be better to give the two hundred rubles to a poor man, or to lose at cards, but he was very embarrassed and felt that he was in this place where there was only one candle. The small room seemed to fall into a trap.He wanted to escape his breath quickly and get rid of his two soft hands around his waist, feeling as if those two hands had already stuck to his body.He hurriedly fumbled in his pocket for his money wallet. "Here . . . " he murmured, taking out a hundred rubles. "The other hundred will come later. I don't have much around. I don't refuse people's requests, you know," he went on in an angry tone, beginning to get angry. "I have a nasty mother-in-law temper. But please pay me back this money in the future. I am short of money myself." "Thank you. Thank you, good friend!" "For God's sake, don't think you're an idealist. You're no more an idealist than I am a turkey. You're just a slob." Sergey Sergeitch sighed deeply and sat down on the sofa. "You, my darling, are angry," he said, "but if only you knew how much I suffer! I'm going through a terrible time right now. My darling, I swear, I don't pity myself, no I pity my wife and children. If it weren't for my wife and children, I would have ended my remaining life long ago." 忽然他的肩膀和脑袋开始颤动，他哭起来了“莫名其妙，”波德果陵说，激动地在房间里走来走去，觉得十分气恼。“是啊，请问，一个人做了一大堆坏事，后来哭了，你拿他怎么办呢？您的眼泪解除人的武装，我什么话也没法跟您说了。您哭，可见您认为自己是对的。” “我做了一大堆坏事？”谢尔盖·谢尔盖伊奇问，站起身来，惊讶地瞧着波德果陵。“我亲爱的，这话是您说的吗？我做了一大堆坏事？！啊，您多么不明白我！您多么不了解我呀！” “好，就算我不了解您吧，不过，请您别再哭了。这叫人讨厌。” “啊，您多么不明白我啊！”洛塞夫十分诚恳地又说一遍。 “您多么不明白我啊！” “请您照一照镜子吧，”波德果陵接着说，“您已经不是个年轻人，很快就要老了，现在总该好好想一想，认识清楚您究竟是个什么人了。您一辈子什么事也不做，一辈子这样无聊而幼稚地胡说八道，装腔作势，扭扭捏捏，莫非您的脑袋还没有发晕，您还不厌恶这样的生活？跟您在一起沉闷得很！跟您在一起乏味得要命！” 说完这话，波德果陵就走出厢房，砰的一声把门带上。这恐怕还是他生平第一次真心诚意，说出了他所要说的话。 过了一忽儿，他已经后悔不该这样严厉了。既然一个人经常作假，吃得很多，喝得不少，花掉许多别人的钱，同时又深信自己是个理想主义者和受难者，那么跟这种人认真谈话或者发生争论有什么益处呢？这儿的问题在于愚蠢，或者是多年的坏习气，而这种习气就象疾病似的深深地侵蚀人的机体，已经不可救药了。不管怎样，愤慨和严厉的责备在这儿是没有益处的，所需要的毋宁是嘲笑。只要来一次厉害的嘲笑就比讲十次大道理有用得多！ “不过，再简单一点，索性不理他算了，”波德果陵想，“主要的是不该给他钱。” 又过了一忽儿，他就不再想谢尔盖·谢尔盖伊奇，也不再想他那一百个卢布。这是一个安静的、似乎在沉思的夜晚，十分明亮。每逢月夜，波德果陵瞧着天空，总觉得只有他和月亮没有睡觉，其他的一切都睡熟了，或者在打盹儿。这时候，人也罢，钱也罢，都不在他的心上，他的心绪渐渐平静、安宁了。他觉得他在世界上是孤零零的一个人，在夜晚的沉寂中，他感到自己的脚步声显得那么凄凉。 花园四周是白色的石墙。在朝着田野的那堵墙的右角上有一个塔楼，那是很久以前，远在农奴制时代建成的。塔楼下部是石砌的，上部用木头搭成，有一个小平台、一个圆锥形的房顶、一个很长的塔尖，塔尖上安着一个黑色的风向标。下面有两道门，从花园里穿过这两道门就可以走到田野上去。从下面到上面的小平台有一道楼梯相通，人走在那道楼梯上，它就会嘎吱嘎吱地响。楼梯下边堆着几把旧的破圈椅，这时候月光射进门来，照亮那些圈椅，它们翘起弯曲的椅腿，仿佛到了夜间就活过来，在寂静中埋伏着，等待什么人似的。 波德果陵顺着楼梯走到小平台上，坐下来。围墙外面就是一道标明地界的沟和土堤，再过去就是辽阔的田野，浸沉在月光里。波德果陵知道从这儿一直往前走，离庄园三俄里的地方有树林，现在他仿佛看见远处有一道乌黑的林带。鹌鹑和长脚秧鸡在叫，有的时候从树林那边传来一只杜鹃的叫声，它也没有睡觉。 脚步声响起来。有一个人在花园里走动，靠近这个塔楼。 一条狗吠起来。 “茹克！”一个女人的声音轻声招呼道。“茹克，回来！” 可以听见下面他们走进塔楼的声音；过一忽儿土堤上就出现波德果陵熟识的一条黑毛老狗。它站住，往上看，瞧着波德果陵坐着的那一边，好意地摇尾巴。随后，过了一忽儿，从那道黑沟里，象幽灵似的升起一个白色的人影，也在土坡上站住。这人是娜杰日达。 “你在那儿看什么？”她问那条狗，她也开始往上看。 她没有看见波德果陵，可是大概感到他就在附近，因为她微微笑着，她那被月光照亮的白脸显得很幸福。塔楼的黑影顺着地面伸展到远处的田野里，这个不动的白色人影以及她那张苍白的脸上的幸福笑容、那条黑狗、他们的阴影，所有这些合在一起好象梦境似的。……“那儿有人吧，……”娜杰日达轻声说。 她站在那儿等着他走下楼来或者招呼她上去，终于吐露他的爱情，于是他们在这安静美丽的夜晚就双双幸福了。她穿着白色的衣服，肤色也白，身材消瘦，在月光下显得十分美丽，正在等着爱抚；她那种对幸福和爱情的执著追求已经使得她心力交瘁，她再也没有力量掩盖她的感情了。她的整个身形、她眼睛的亮光、她常挂在脸上的幸福笑容，都泄露了她那些秘藏在心底的思想。他觉得很不自在，缩起身子，不出声音，不知道该开口说话，照往常那样开个玩笑把这种事敷衍过去呢，还是该沉默；他感到烦恼，心里暗想：在这儿，在这个庄园里，在这个月夜，在这个美丽的、钟情的、好幻想的姑娘身旁，他竟象在小勃朗纳亚那样冷淡；因为对他来说，这种诗如同那种粗俗的散文一样，显然已经过时了。而且，月夜的幽会也好，腰身很细的白色身形也好，神秘的阴影也好，塔楼也好，庄园也好，象谢尔盖·谢尔盖伊奇那样的“人物”也好，也都过时了。就连他波德果陵自己这样的人，这种老是感到冷冷的沉闷，经常气恼，不善于适应现实生活，不善于从现实生活中取得它所能给与的东西，却难忍难熬地苦苦渴求着世界上没有，也不可能有的东西的人，也过时了。如今，他坐在这儿，坐在这个塔楼上，只希望看一场好烟火或者月光下的一个什么行列，要不然就听瓦丽雅再一次朗诵《铁路》，或者看另一个女人站在土堤上，站在眼前娜杰日达站着的地方，听她讲一些有趣而新鲜的话，跟爱情和幸福都没有关系的话。即使她讲到爱情，那也该是号召人们去过一种高尚而合理的新型的生活，说不定我们已经生活在它的前夜，这是有的时候可以预感到的。……“没有人，”娜杰日达说。 她又站一忽儿，就低下头，慢吞吞地往树林那边走去。那条狗跑到前头去了。很久很久波德果陵还可以看见一个白色的斑点。 “哎，这都是怎么搞的啊，……”他心里又说一遍，就回到他的厢房里去了。 他不能想象明天他会对谢尔盖·谢尔盖伊奇，对塔契雅娜说些什么，他会怎样对待娜杰日达，后天也是这样，总之他预先感到慌张、恐惧、烦闷了。怎样来度过他答应在这儿盘桓的漫长的三天呢？他回想关于大彻大悟的谈话，回想谢尔盖·谢尔盖伊奇所说的那句话：“他没来得及喊一声哎呀，熊就扑到他的身上来了，”又想到明天为了讨塔契雅娜的好而不得不对她的饱足的胖姑娘们微笑，于是决定一走了事。 五点半钟，谢尔盖·谢尔盖伊奇从大房子里走出来，站在露台上，穿一件布哈拉式的长袍，戴一顶带缨子的圆锥形平顶帽。波德果陵一刻也不耽搁，走到他跟前，向他告辞。 “我得在十点钟以前赶到莫斯科去，”他说，眼睛没有瞧着对方。“我完全忘了有人要在公证人那儿等我。请您务必放我走。等您家里的人起来，请您替我对她们赔罪，说我非常抱歉。 ..." 他没有听谢尔盖·谢尔盖伊奇对他说了些什么话，就匆匆地走了，老是回头看正房的窗子，仿佛生怕那些女人醒过来，留住他似的。他为自己的慌张害臊。他感到这是他最后一次到库兹明吉来，以后不会再到这儿来了。他临走的时候，好几次回过头去看他从前度过许多美好岁月的那个厢房，然而他的内心却冷冷的，并没有感到忧郁。……他回到自己家里，首先看见桌子上放着昨天他收到的那封信。“亲爱的米沙，”他读道，“您把我们完全忘记了，赶快来吧，……”不知什么缘故，他想起娜杰日达在跳舞中旋转，她的连衣裙鼓起来，露出她那双穿着肉色袜子的脚。……过了十分钟，他已经坐在桌子旁边工作，不再想到库兹明吉了。 "Notes" ①指上帝。 ②引自俄国诗人莱蒙托夫的诗。