Chapter 16 Part V 1-5

one In the spring of that year, I began to roam the rivers and lakes, and since then ended the secluded life of my youth. On my first day in Orel, when I woke up, I was still on the road: alone, unencumbered, at ease; I was both a stranger in the hotel and a stranger in the city.It was just dawn when I woke up, which is very early in the city.But the next day, I woke up late—like everyone else.I dressed carefully, looked in the mirror... Yesterday, in the editorial office, I was ashamed: my skin was tanned like a gypsy, my face was thin and dusty, my hair had not been trimmed for a long time.It should be groomed.Fortunately, my situation suddenly improved yesterday: they not only agreed to my writing, but also agreed to advance my remuneration.I was embarrassed to go for an advance, but ended up taking the money anyway.I walked to the street, went into a cigarette shop, bought a box of high-end cigarettes, and then walked into a barber shop. When I came out, my head was fragrant and beautiful, and it seemed to be smaller. At the same time, I felt refreshed. It's very hearty, and men always feel this way when they come out of the barber shop.I desperately want to go back to the editorial office immediately and continue the happy fresh feeling of yesterday as soon as possible. That is the generous gift of fate to me.But going right away is absolutely impossible, people will say: "Why, he is here again? It's early in the morning again?" So I walked slowly in the city.As yesterday, go to Polkhov Street and then turn to Moskva Street.This is a very long commercial street, leading directly to the station.I walked along the avenue until I arrived at the dusty Arc de Triomphe. The street outside the gate was deserted and poor.I turned to the more shabby Pushkar district, and from there I went back to Moskva Street.From Moskva Street I went down to the Orlik River and passed a wooden bridge that was in disrepair. Whenever a carriage passed by, the bridge wobbled and creaked.Going up to the seat of the government office, all the church bells are ringing in unison, and the carriage in which the bishop is riding is rushing towards me along the tree-lined road. The sound of ticking horseshoes is not in harmony with the sound of the bell.The bishop stretched out a hand to bless the passers-by on both sides.

The editorial office was full of people again.The petite Avelova was sitting at her big desk working, full of energy. She only smiled at me, and immediately turned her head to the desk again.I ate breakfast for so long, so happy.After dinner I heard Rika play the piano rapidly for a while, and then I went for a while with her and Opolenskaya on the swings in the garden.After tea, Avelova showed me around the house, walking through all the rooms.In the bedroom I saw on the wall a portrait of a shaggy man with glasses and thin, broad shoulders, looking sullenly out of the frame. "This is my late husband." Avilova said casually.I was a little taken aback: this lively and lovely woman suddenly called this consumptive man her husband, and it was surprising that they should be combined so absurdly!Then she sat down to work again.Rika said to us after she had dressed for a while: "Here, my children, I'm going away!"—she always spoke differently, and I was aware of it at the time, and it made me feel ashamed for her of.Rika is gone.And Opolenskaia had business to do, so I went with her.She asked me if I would go with her to Kalachev Street, saying that it was to the blousemaker's.I was glad that she brought us together at once with this tacit request.I happily wandered around the city with her and listened to her serious talk.At the tailor's place, I waited patiently and joyfully for her to negotiate and negotiate with the tailor.It was evening when we returned to Kalachev Street. "Do you like Turgenev?" she asked.I don't think it's easy to open my mouth, because I was born and raised in the country, people always think that I like Turgenev, and they always ask me this question. "Well, anyway," she said, "it will be an interesting thing for you after all. There is a manor not far from here, which seems to be the one described in "A Noble House", and I want to see it." Is it?" So we came to a secluded lane in the suburbs, with gardens on both sides of the lane, here is a steep bank of the Orlik River, and there is a house on it, which has long since been deserted, and jackdaws in the half-collapsed chimney. After settling down at home, the house is located in an old-style garden with a little bit of new green in April, which looks even more gloomy.We stood on the steep bank, looked over the low courtyard wall, and looked at the house through the sparse branches and leaves of the garden, which reflected patterns in the clear western sky... Lisa, Lavretsky, Rem ... ① I long for love.

————— ① They are all characters in "A Noble House". In the evening, we all went to the amphitheater in the city park.I sat next to Yuka in the semi-darkness, lovingly enjoying the band and the noisy tricks of the stage with her.The square had lights illuminating the stage from below, where beautiful ladies and royal armor stomped to blaring dance music.Holding empty tin cups, they clinked glasses frequently.After the show, we had dinner in the park.I sit with the ladies on the spacious, crowded terrace, with a chilled bottle of wine in front of me.From time to time, acquaintances came over to socialize with them, and I got to know these people accordingly.Everyone was friendly to me, with one exception.After he bowed slightly to me, he didn't want to talk to me anymore.He was an officer, tall and slender, with a dark oblong face, a pair of staring black eyes, and a half-black beard. He wore a well-fitting dress that covered his knees, and there were stitches on the cuffs of his trousers. belt.It was this man who afterwards (also quite inadvertently) gave me much pain of heart.Lika kept talking and laughing, showing her beautiful teeth from time to time. She knew that everyone was admiring her, and I could no longer be indifferent to these people.When the officer got up and left his seat to bid us farewell, just because he held her slender hand with his big hand, I felt cold all over after a while.

The first spring thunder struck on the day I left Orel.I still remember the thunder, the buggy that took Avelova and me to the station, and the pride aroused by the company of the carriage and Avelova.I remember an indescribable feeling in my heart when I parted from her for the first time (I had already completely believed in my imaginary love for her), and I remember a feeling of special happiness and gain that overwhelmed all other feelings, as if I What seems to have been gained in Orel.On the platform, I was amazed that the well-dressed people gathered here waiting for the train were all so thick and strong, and the monks in shining costumes stood in front of everyone with crosses and incense burners in their hands. All of them looked so obscene.At last, the prince's coach drove into the station with great momentum, and a huge red-haired man jumped out of it, dazzled everyone by his red hussar jacket.All at once, somehow, everything was thrown into disarray—I don't remember anything about what happened after that, except that the ritual was particularly eerie.Then, the chimney of the locomotive filled with black mourning flags gasped again. This greasy steel giant began to rumble with a powerful driving force, and the piston rod was like a white steel belt, growing steadily backwards. Stretching out, the bright blue carriage with the golden eagle painted on it swam forward... I stared at the faster and faster iron wheels, brakes and springs under the carriage, and saw that they were covered with a layer of Thick white dust, a mesmerizing dust brought all the way from the far south - Crimea.The train roared, faded away, and continued its grand journey to receive the road sacrifice. It passed through Russia and went straight to the capital.But my body and mind were immersed in the charming Crimea, indulging in the fascinating time spent by the magical character Pushkin in Gurzuf.

The crude short-distance train I was about to take was waiting for me on the outer platform, and I was happy at the thought of resting alone in it.Avilova chatted happily with me until the car drove away.She hoped to see me again soon at Orel, and hinted with a smile that she could see my ridiculous distress clearly.The third time the bell rang, I kissed her hand passionately, and she touched my face with her lips.I jumped into the car, and the car wobbled and started.I stuck my head out of the car window and saw Avilova standing on the platform, waving gently to me, and gradually moving away...

After that, everything about the journey disturbed me: the short train sometimes squirmed with difficulty, sometimes ran at a sudden speed, swayed desperately, and made a loud noise.When I arrived at those sparsely populated large and small stations, the car kept stopping for some reason.All the familiar things surrounded me again: rolling hilly fields beyond the window, unsightly unplanted fields, bare birch groves waiting for spring, and a barren vista... Evenings were equally bitter, cold and swish like spring evenings, the sky pale and low. two I left Orel with one wish: to continue as soon as possible what had begun at Orel.However, looking at the fields outside the window and the lingering April sunset, this wish faded away the farther away from Orel.Dusk had fallen in the carriage, on the sparse oak grove outside the window.The forest was on the left side of the train, and it was bare, with knots all over the trunk.The ground is covered with last year's dead leaves, reddish brown, just emerging from the winter snow.I stood up with my handbag, and my heart was getting more and more ups and downs: I have reached the Subbotin Forest, and then there is Pisarevo Station.The train screamed long and shrillly into the air, announcing that it was about to arrive at the station.I hurried to the landing platform of the carriage, the air was as humid and fresh as in primitive times, and the raindrops were falling sparsely. A wagon wagon was parked alone in front of the station.The train went around it, and before it had stopped I jumped out and ran on the platform, across the hall, and out the dark gate.The lights in the hall were dim, the scene was bleak, and the floor was trampled dirty by country people.In front of the gate of the station is a circular field. The flowerbeds have withered after a winter and are very dirty. In the darkness, a horse rented by a country coachman can be vaguely seen.The countryman sometimes waited weeks for a passenger, and as soon as he saw me he ran over and gaily granted all my requests, saying that he would be happy to take him as far as the sky would cost me any money. "You will never treat me badly!" In a blink of an eye, I had already sat in his narrow car, despite the bumps.At first we passed through a desolate and dark village, and then we walked more and more quietly, into dark, dead, lonely fields, into a land like a black ocean, only in the extremely distant sky in the northwest, under a few dark clouds , only to glow with a slight green light.The evening wind from the wilderness is blowing in front of you, the light breeze in April is warmer and weaker, with rain in it.Somewhere in the distance a quail flapped its wings and seemed to change places with the wind.A low Russian sky with a few stars twinkling among the clouds... again quail, spring, earth.It was my poor boyhood, spent earlier in seclusion!Ten versts is a painfully long way to walk in the country with a Russian countryman!The peasant smelled dry of cabins and torn sheepskin overcoats, and he made a bewildering silence on the road, and he didn't respond to asking him to move the car a bit, but when he encountered a small ramp, But he jumped down from the front of the carriage, grabbed the reins with both hands, and with his face sideways, walked step by step beside the lifeless mare... By the time he reached Vasilyevskoye, the night seemed very deep , there is no light around, lifeless.At this time, the eyes are used to the darkness, and you can clearly identify every small wooden house on both sides of the wide street entering the village and every leafless vine in front of the house.Then the car could be seen and felt again going downhill, into a hollow filled with April humidity.On the left is a bridge across the river, and on the right is an uphill road leading directly to a dark and indifferent manor.My heart surged again: the darkness, poverty and indifference of the countryside in spring, how familiar I am, and how strange it is!When the countryman went up the mountain, he shuddered and seemed to be completely unconscious.Suddenly, among the pine trees in the small garden, lights flickered from the windows.Thank god people are not sleeping yet!At last the carriage stopped by the steps, I got out, pushed open the door of the outer room, went into the house, and saw the people looking up and down and smiling, how happy I was, how eager I was, and at the same time like a child Shy! ...

In the early morning of the next day, I was braving the intermittent light rain.We left Vasilievskoye on horseback, passing plowed and recreational fields.Farmers are plowing and sowing.A barefoot farmer swayed forward with a plow left and right, and his two white soles stepped into the soft furrows alternately.The horse arched its back and plowed a furrow vigorously.A blue rook followed behind the plow, nodding and wagging its tail along the furrow, pecking at earthworms from the furrow from time to time.An old man without a hat, with a basket of seeds in his hand, followed behind the rooks, taking big, even steps, swinging his right arm in a dignified manner, drawing regular semicircles, and sowed seeds into the ground.

In Baturino, I was pained by the love and joy that greeted my family.What surprised me most was not my mother's joy, but my sister's joy.As soon as she saw me out of the window, she ran swiftly up the steps and rushed towards me with such touching love and joy that I had never expected.She put on a new dress that day for me, and she was so beautiful—pure, young, innocent, and radiant.The houses in my hometown have an ancient and simple beauty, which makes me overwhelmed.My room was just as it was, as if I hadn't been away for long.Everything is in its place, even the half-burnt candle in the iron candlestick is still on the writing table, I remember it was there when I left home that winter.I walked into the room and looked around. The black icon was still in the corner, and the old windows were covered with purple and garnet glass. Through the windows, I could see the trees and the sky. The sky is still blue in places.The room was still dark, empty, and deep... The wooden ceiling was black and smooth, and the walls made of logs were also black and smooth... The columns of the oak bed were also smooth and heavy...

three I'm going to the bank to pay the interest, so that I'll have a business excuse to go to Orel again.I took the money with me, but only part of it was handed over to the bank, and I spent the rest.It was a child's play, and it showed that something had changed in me, but I hadn't noticed it.I have always done things without thinking, with a momentary pleasure.On the way to Orel, I drove off the passenger car and got on the locomotive of the freight car at once.I remember climbing up the high iron steps into a rough, squalid place, and just stood and watched.Two drivers wore greasy clothes that shone like iron, and their faces were just as greasy and shiny.The whites of the eyes are like black ones, which are particularly noticeable, and the eye circles look like actors have put on makeup.The younger one suddenly picked up a shovel, scooped up the coals that were piled on the floor, and with a clang, flung open the furnace door.A fiendish red flame spewed from the furnace door, and he swung the coals in with one swipe, suppressing the infernal fire.The older one wiped his fingers with a filthy rag, then lifted the rag, touched it here, twisted it there...Suddenly there was a piercing whistle, and a cloud of hot steam spewed out from nowhere, blocking the My sight covers all around.Suddenly there was an even more ear-splitting rumbling sound, and then the train moved forward slowly... What a rough rumbling sound, our strength is increasing, our speed is increasing, and everything around us is trembling, shaking, and jumping!Time froze, tension hardened, and a fire dragon was shaking forward at a constant speed among the hills.Each leg was swiftly completed, and in the intervals between its pauses to breathe after each leg, in the night and the silence of the station, there was the fragrance of the woods, and the melodious song of a nightingale wafted from the nearby bushes. Singing... At Orel, I had the cheek to dress myself up: I bought fine boots, a smart black blouse with pleats at the waist, a red silk jersey shirt with a slanted collar, an aristocratic black fast-brimmed hat with a red band , I also bought a pair of expensive cavalry saddles. The fragrant leather creaked and creaked, so cute.When I come home at night, I can't sleep because of the joy of having my beloved baby by my side.I drove to Pisarevo again, in order to buy another horse—there happened to be a horse market in that village at that time.At the horse market I befriended some of my peers, who also wore jackets with pleats and aristocratic hats, and were regular customers at the fair.They bought me a young thoroughbred mare (although a gypsy pestered me to buy his old gelding, saying, "Buy my Misha, my lord! Buy it, You will be grateful to me all your life!" Unfortunately, it was an emphysema Don horse.) Then came the summer, which for me was a succession of holidays: I never lived in Baturino for more than three days in a row, All at the house of my new friends.After Lika returned to our county town from Orel, I started to stay in the county town and didn't go anywhere.I once received a short note from her: "I have returned, looking forward to seeing you again." Regardless of the sky getting late, dark clouds rolled over.After entering the compartment, I was mesmerized by the speed of the train.There was a thunderstorm, and the rumble of the carriages, the clatter of thunder, and the noise of the rain pouring on the roof mingled together, and the train seemed to go faster.The blue lightning continuously illuminated the black windows, and the rain washed the glass, splashed foam, and brought in fresh air.

The pleasant meeting makes me feel very comfortable. It seems that there is nothing in the world, only joy.But at this moment, at the end of summer, something happened.Xu Ziming lived with his younger sister and his elderly father in a small manor on the steep bank of the Ista River, not far from the county seat.He often comes to Rika's house as a guest.On the name day, he threw a big feast and invited friends from all walks of life.On that day, he went to pick up Rika himself, and Rika rode with him in a small open carriage, and I followed behind on horseback.It is pleasant to see the dry moors in the sun, the open and sandy fields covered with stacks of wheat as far as the eye can see.Always wanting to show some sense of adventure and dexterity in myself, I rode the horse recklessly, reined it in, and then made it leap over piles of wheat at a gallop, the sharp feet of the horse turning its The hooves were bleeding.The name-day luncheon was held on the decadent verandah until dusk.Dusk unknowingly merges with night, lights, wine, singing, and guitar.I sat next to Rika and boldly shook her hand, which she did not withdraw.It was late at night, and as if we had made an appointment, we got up and left our seats, walked down the verandah, and came to the dark garden.Rika stopped in the warm, dark garden, leaning against a tree, and stretched out her arms to me—although I couldn't see clearly, I guessed the movement of those arms immediately... Soon, the garden gradually changed. Turned into silvery white, the little rooster began to crow hoarsely in the manor, contented but seemed a little lonely.After a while, the whole garden began to light up, and in the vast eastern sky, the yellow and orange fields on the other side of the valley behind the garden revealed a golden light... We stood on the cliff, overlooking the valley, but Lika no longer paid attention to it. I'm sorry, I just looked at the burning red sky and sang Tchaikovsky's "Morning".She couldn't sing at the high notes, so she stopped singing and ran to the house with the pretty frills of her partridge-coloured linen dress.I stood there in a daze, numb in my mind and weak in my feet.I went to the edge of the cliff and fell under an old birch tree in the dry grass.It was broad daylight and the sun was up.Then, as is often the case in late summer, the bright, sweltering morning came at once.I fell asleep with my head resting on the root of the birch tree.The sun was getting hotter and hotter, and soon I woke up in the heat and flames, stood up, and staggered to find a shady place.The people inside were still sleeping in the dry, blinding sunlight.Only one old master woke up.The window of his study was open, under which a bush of wild lilacs grew densely.From the coughing sound coming from the window, one can feel that the old man is enjoying his first bag of cigarettes and strong tea mixed with cream in the morning.A flock of sparrows flew away from the lilac bushes that were dazzled by the sun by my walking. Hearing the noise like rain and my footsteps, the old man pulled the lapel of his old Turkish silk pajamas and covered his chest. He leaned out of the window, revealing a terrifying face - two swollen eyeballs and a big beard, and smiled very kindly.I bowed apologetically to him and walked across the verandah to the open door of the living room.The silence and emptiness of the morning, fluttering butterflies, blue ancient wallpaper, easy chairs and small sofas decorate the living room very elegantly.I lay on a small sofa, and despite its uncomfortable curvature, I drifted off to sleep.Soon (although I slept for a long time, it seemed like it was only a while), someone came up to me, talked to me with a smile, and stroked my hair.When I awoke, there stood before my young masters—brother and sister, both dark, with bright eyes, and beautiful as Tartars.The elder brother was wearing a yellow satin shirt with a cross-neck, and the younger sister was wearing a blouse of the same texture.I jumped up and sat up, and they kindly told me that it was time to get up for breakfast, and told me that Lika had left, not alone, but with Kuzmin.They also handed me a note, and I immediately thought of Kuzmin's bee-colored eyes, quick-witted and complex.I took the note and walked to the ancient "maid's room".There was an old woman there, dressed in black, holding a crock of water in her bruised and withered hands, standing by the square stool with the basin, waiting for me humbly.As I walked, I read the note: "Don't try to see me again." Then, I began to wash, the water was cold and stinging. "You know, we drink spring water here, drawn from a well," said the old woman, and handed me a very long linen towel.I walked quickly to the front room, took off my cap and whip, ran across the hot yard, and entered the stable... A horse neighed softly and sadly at me from the dark place, it was still saddled, standing Near the trough, the stomach is deflated to reveal the groin.I grabbed the reins, climbed into the saddle, and, frantic with excitement, restrained myself, and sprinted out of the yard.At the back of the manor, I made a sharp turn and turned into the field, stepping on the stubble and galloping forward.When I reached the first stack of wheat, I reined in my horse, jumped out of the saddle, and sat under the stack.The horse picked up the ears of wheat with its teeth, and pulled several bundles of wheat towards him, causing the grains of wheat like glass beads to scatter and rustle.The crickets are busy in the stubble and sheaves, very busy, like thousands of watches moving; the sunny fields stretch out like deserts.But I don’t want to hear anything, I don’t want to see anything, I only have one stubborn thought in my heart: Either she give me back herself, give me back this night, this morning, give me back her footsteps that appear and disappear in the dry grass, Give me back my rustling crepe, or we both die!

With these wild feelings, with this desperate determination, I galloped into town. Four In the county town, in the depths of her widowed father's yard, I sat with her in the small deserted garden all day long, and stayed like this for many days.Her father, an unscrupulous liberal doctor, imposed no restrictions on her.When I galloped to her that day from the banks of the Ista, she put her hands to her breast when she saw my look.From that moment on, it was not clear whose love was stronger, happier, more insane, mine or hers.Her love also came suddenly, and I don't know where it burst out.In the end, in order to let everyone take a breather, we decided to break up temporarily.We did this for the following reasons: I've been living on credit at the "Noble Hotel" and I've built up a lot of debt, plus the rainy season has come.I tried everything possible to delay the day of breaking up, but in the end I made up my mind and resolutely set off to go home despite the heavy rain.When I got home, I used to sleep at first with my head buried, and then I walked from room to room without saying a word, doing nothing, or thinking about anything.Then I started thinking: what's wrong with me, how does this end?One day my brother Nikolai came, came into my room, sat down with his hat on and said to me: "My friend, your romance seems to be going well. It's the old one: 'The fox took me through the woods and over the mountains,' and what lies beyond the woods and mountains—no one knows. Yours I can't hide everything from me. I have heard a lot, and those who haven't heard can guess: what will happen to this kind of thing? Intend?" I replied half-jokingly: "Everyone is led away by a fox, of course, as to where and why, only God knows. Even the Bible says: 'Young man, be happy in your youth. In your youth, let Your heart is happy. Do what your heart desires and do, see what your eyes love to see...②'" ————— ①It may be derived from the story of the Russian fairy tale "The Cat? The Fox and the Rooster", which is a metaphor for being deceived. ② See "Bible? Old Testament? Ecclesiastes" chapter eleventh section nine. The elder brother looked at the floor without saying a word, as if he was listening to the rustling of the rain on the withered autumn garden, and then he said sadly: "Forget it, you go, go..." I always ask myself: what should I do?In fact, what to do is obvious.However, the more I insisted on writing her a categorical letter to-morrow (which was a good idea, since our intimacy had not yet passed the final limit), the more tenderness and admiration I felt for her, Her charming eyes, face, laughter, words, and her love for me caused my gratitude to her to fill my heart more and more... A few days later, at sunset, a messenger arrived suddenly Coming from the manor, he was drenched in the rain, and sent me an urgent, wet letter, which said: "I can't bear it anymore, I hope to come soon." Thinking that I will see you again in a few hours. When I saw her and heard her words, my heart was full of joy, and I couldn't sleep all night until dawn... From then on, I lived at home for a while, and went to live in the county town for a while, and the whole autumn passed like this.I sold my saddle and horse, and I stopped visiting the "noble hotel" in the county town, and stayed only at the Nicolina Inn near Shepunaya Square.The county town is completely different now, not at all what it looked like when I was a boy.Everything seemed dull, and only occasionally when I passed the garden on Uspensky Avenue and the middle school, I seemed to have a kind of revisiting feeling in my heart.I have long developed the habit of smoking and going to the barber shop.I remember once in the barber shop I sat obediently like a child, the clippers clicked, and I squinted to see how my silky hair fell to the ground continuously.We sat on the Turkish divan in the dining room from morning to night, almost always alone, because the doctor was out early in the morning, and her brother was a pupil and went to school.After breakfast, the doctor fell asleep and disappeared, and the middle school student kept messing around with his little yellow dog, the top.The spinning top pretended to be angry, barked and panted, and jumped up and down the wooden stairs to the second floor.For a while afterwards, this monotonous sitting around all day, and perhaps my excessive and constant lingering, made her feel bored and tired.She started making excuses to go out and visit friends, and I had to stay alone on the sofa, listening to the middle school student yelling, laughing, and stomping, and the puppy top running wildly on the stairs and barking.I looked tearfully at the calm gray sky outside the half-closed window, smoking one cigarette after another... Later, I don’t know what happened, she started to sit at home again, she was still so tender and considerate to me, which made me Can't figure out what kind of person she is at all.One day she said to me, "Well, my dear, it seems that's the way it is," and she wrinkled her brow and wept happily.This is after breakfast, and everyone is walking on tiptoe in the house so as not to disturb the doctor's rest.She went on to say, "I just feel sorry for Dad. To me, there is no one in the world more precious than him!" I was always amazed why she loved her father so much.As if to be embarrassed on purpose, just as she finished speaking, the middle school student ran up and said casually and vaguely that the doctor asked me to go to him.Her face suddenly paled.I kissed her hand and walked away with firm steps. The doctor, having had a good night's sleep and just finished his bath, received me gently and cheerfully, humming and lighting a cigarette. "My young friend," he said, offering me a cigarette, "I've wanted to talk to you a long time ago, and you know what you want to talk about. I'm an unbiased man, you know. I value My daughter's happiness, and my heartfelt sympathy for you. Let's talk frankly, like men talk to men. Really, I don't know you at all, no matter how strange you think. Please tell me what you are What kind of person?" He said, smiling slightly. My face was red and white, and I kept smoking.What kind of person am I?I had just read Eckermann's works at that time, and I wanted to answer like Goethe proudly: "I don't understand myself, God, don't let me understand myself!" However, I said humbly : "You know I'm writing... I'm going to keep writing, keep teaching myself..." ————— ① Johann Peter Eckerman (1792-1854) was a friend of the German poet Goethe and the editor of "Goethe Conversations". I couldn't help but add another sentence: "Maybe I'm preparing to take the university entrance exam..." "College, of course, would be great," said the doctor. "But you know, college entrance examinations are no joke. What are you going to do? Just literature, or do you also have some social activities and hold public office?" I thought about it in my mind again, and it was Goethe's words: "I have lived through two centuries in my life... I feel that everything in the world is changeable and disgusting... Politics can never be related to poetry..." "Social activity is not the business of poets," I replied. The doctor was slightly surprised and glanced at me. "So, in your opinion, for example, Nekrasov is not a poet? But after all, you have to pay more attention to the current social life. You have to know how every honest and educated Russian is living and living at the moment." How anxious are you?" I thought about it, thinking about what I knew: everyone was talking about the reactionary situation, about the magistrates, saying that "every good initiative of the era of great reforms has been completely destroyed"... Said Tolstoy called "Go to the meditation room of Matsushita to practice"... Said that we are indeed living in Chekhov's "Darkness"... I remembered that the followers of Tolstoy's theory distributed Mark Aurelius's collection of famous sayings, It says: "Fronton taught me that there is no kindness for the rich..." I also recall a sad old Ukrainian, a believer of some sect, with whom I took a boat on the Dnieper in the spring, and he always used his own He meant to repeat to me the words of Saint Paul: "God has seated Christ at his right hand in heaven, far above all principalities, powers, powers, dominions, and everything that is named, not only in this world, but in the age to come Both surpass ②, so that our curses are not directed at our loved ones, but at the rulers, the rulers of the darkness of this world..." I felt that the Tolstoy theory I was passionate about earlier was free from any social shackles, and at the same time opposed to what I hated "The ruler of the darkness of this world", so I preached Tolstoy's theory. ————— ①Mark Aurelius was the Roman emperor from 161 to 180. ② See "Bible? New Testament? Ephesians", chapter 1, verses 20 to 22, the last three sentences are not the original words of the "Bible". “那么，在您看来，摆脱一切邪恶和苦难的唯一办法就是那臭名昭著的无为和勿抗恶罗？”医生装出一副过分无所谓的神气问道。 我急忙回答，我是主张有为、主张抗恶的，“只不过十分独特”。我的托尔斯泰学说是一种互相抵触的、强烈的感情，激起这种感情的是彼尔?别祖霍夫和阿纳托里?库拉金①，《霍斯托密尔》②中的谢尔普霍夫斯基公爵和伊万?伊里奇③，《那么我们怎么办》和《人是否需要许多土地》④，莫斯科统计调查一文中描述的城市污秽和贫困的可怕情景，《哥萨克》在我心中形成的生活在大自然和人民中间产生富有诗意的幻想，还有我个人对小俄罗斯的印象：如果永远摆脱我们的不合理的生活，到草原田庄、到德聂伯河岸的白土屋里去过一种纯洁的劳动生活，这该多么幸福啊！我把其中的某些想法告诉了医生，没有提白土屋的事。他似乎很注意地听，可是不知怎的显得过于谦恭。有时他昏昏欲睡，眼皮耷拉着，紧闭的双颔发颤，要打呵欠的样子，但他克制住自己，把呵欠从鼻孔放了出去，接着说： “是呀，是呀，我听懂了您的意思……您不为个人去寻求一般人的所谓'今世'幸福，对吗？可要知道幸福并非只是个人的。譬如说我吧，并不赞赏人民，因为，很可惜，我太了解人民，不相信人民是一切智慧的源泉，而且我还要同人民一起把陆地架在三条鲸鱼之上⑤。但是，难道可以说我们对人民没有任何义务，不久任何债了吗？其实我无权在这方面指教您。能和您交谈，无论如何我都是很高兴的。现在让我再回到开头的话题上。请原谅，我得简单明了地告诉您，不管您和我女儿之间有何种感情，也不管这种感情到了何等地步，我要预先说明：她，当然有充分的自由，但是，譬如说，如果她愿意同您建立某种牢固的关系，来请求得到我的祝福，那么她只会得到我的坚决拒绝。我对您很有好感，祝您万事如意，仅此而已。为什么呢？说得庸俗些，我不愿意看到你们两个不幸，在贫困中混日子，生活不安定。而且，请允许我更直率地说，你们有什么共同点呢？格丽克莉娅是个好姑娘，可也应当承认，她相当朝三暮四——今天迷恋这，明天迷恋那。当然，她不会想望托尔斯泰的松下的禅室。看看她那一身穿戴吧，尽管我们地处偏僻。我决不想说，她学坏了。我只是认为，正如常言所说的，你们不是天生一对……” 她站在楼梯下面等着我，用目光询问我，准备听到可怕的消息。我急忙把医生最后几句话转告给她，她垂下了头。 “我绝不违抗他的心意。”她说。 ————— ①两人都是托尔斯泰的长篇小说中的主人公。 ②托尔斯泰的短篇小说，全名为《霍斯托密尔——一匹马的故事》。 ③托尔斯泰的短篇小说《伊万?伊里奇之死》中的人物。 ④两篇都是托尔斯泰的作品。 ⑤古代传说，地球是由三条鲸鱼托住的。 Fives 在尼古林娜客栈投宿的时候，我偶尔也到谢普纳亚广场上徜徉，然后去寺院后面的空地，那儿有一大片围着古墙的墓地。墓地上阴风惨惨，荒草丛芜，一派凄凉的景象。无人过问的十字架和墓碑在此永世长眠，使人产生一种虚幻的、似是孤寂和朦胧的冥想。墓地大门顶上画着辽阔的灰蓝色的平原，其中墓穴龟裂，墓碑颓圮，碑下露出的骷髅，白齿森森，肋骨磷磷，还有远古时代的老翁和老妪，裹着的白尸衣已经变绿。平原上飞翔着一位巨大的天使，吹着喇叭，他那淡蓝色的衣袍一阵阵地飘动，一双裸露的少女般的腿弯曲着，向后翘起两只白垩色的长脚掌……客栈里充满了县城秋天的宁静，同样是空荡荡的——几乎没有什么人从乡下来。我转回去，走进院子，第一个碰见我的是厨娘，她穿着男式长统靴，手抱一只公鸡从院棚下向我走来。“我这就抱进屋去，”她说，不知为什么笑起来。“它老糊涂了，现在只好叫它和我住在一起……”我踏上宽阔的石阶，穿过黑洞洞的过道，然后经过搁有铺板的暖和的厨房，走进正房，其中有一间是女店主的卧室，另一间是住客人的，里面摆着两张大长沙发。偶尔来投宿的小市民和僧侣便在沙发上面睡觉，现在更多的倒是被我一个人占用。房里很安静，只有女店主卧室里的一只闹钟发出均匀的嘀答声……“逛街了吗？”从卧室走出来的女主人亲热地问我，客客气气地对我嫣然一笑。她的嗓音多么迷人，多么动听啊！她体态丰腴，圆圆的睑，有时望着她，我不能不动情，特别是当她从澡堂回来的那些夜晚，她坐着慢慢品茶，全身皮肤红通通的，一头黑发还湿漉漉的，眼神安详柔和，洁净的身上穿着白色的睡衣，悠闲自得地静静躺在安乐椅中，而她宠爱的那只猫，长着白丝绒一般的毛和粉红色眼睛，伏卧在她两个稍许分开的丰满的膝盖头上打呼噜。外面传来碰撞声，那是厨娘在街上关牢百叶窗，发出砰砰的声响。她顺着窗户两侧的圆洞塞进曲柄铁销，那是一种使人想起充满危险的古代的东西。尼古林娜起身把铁楔子插在销子尾部的窟窿里，重新坐下喝茶。屋里显得更加舒适了……这时，我脑海里浮现出种种怪异的感情和念头：这就抛弃一切，永远留在这里，在这个客栈里，到她那温暖的卧室里去睡觉，倾听闹钟均匀的嘀答声！有一张沙发上方挂着一幅画，画上是青翠欲滴的树林，浓密葱茏，树下有间小木房，木房旁站着一位老人，温和地弯着腰，一只手抚摸着褐熊的头；那熊也是个温顺的家伙，爪子软乎乎的。另一张沙发上方挂着一帧照片：照片上一个身着黑礼服的老头躺在棺材里边，脸色苍白，神态傲慢，他就是尼古林娜的亡夫。任何人坐在或躺在沙发上看了这张照片，都会油然产生一种荒诞不经的感觉。厨房里打零工的郊区姑娘们一边用锋利的弯刀砍留过冬用的新鲜卷心菜，一边唱着：“马车停在教堂门前，隆重的婚礼在举行……”这些细碎的敲击声和悠扬的歌声从厨房里传出来，融进这漫漫的秋夜里。在这支市井的小调中，在家务劳动的均匀的节奏中，在陈旧的版画中，甚至于在死者身上（他的生命在这幸福而又毫无意义的客栈生活中仿佛还在延续），这一切都蕴含着一种既甜蜜又痛苦的悲愁。