章节正文
forth his finest efforts, I think!
We met like a couple of old friends. I began
to question him about the personages of note and
as to the sort of life which was led at the waters.
"It is a rather prosaic life," he said, with a
sigh. "Those who drink the waters in the
morning are inert -- like all invalids, and those who
drink the wines in the evening are unendurable --
like all healthy people! There are ladies who
entertain, but there is no great amusement to be
obtained from them. They play whist, they
dress badly and speak French dreadfully! The
only Moscow people here this year are Princess
Ligovski and her daughter -- but I am not
acquainted with them. My soldier's cloak is like
a seal of renunciation. The sympathy which it
arouses is as painful as charity."
At that moment two ladies walked past us in
the direction of the well; one elderly, the other
youthful and slender. I could not obtain a good
view of their faces on account of their hats, but
they were dressed in accordance with the strict
rules of the best taste -- nothing superfluous.
The second lady was wearing a high-necked dress
of pearl-grey, and a light silk kerchief was wound
round her supple neck. Puce-coloured boots
clasped her slim little ankle so charmingly, that
even those uninitiated into the mysteries of
beauty would infallibly have sighed, if only from
wonder. There was something maidenly in her
easy, but aristocratic gait, something eluding
definition yet intelligible to the glance. As she
walked past us an indefinable perfume, like that
which sometimes breathes from the note of a
charming woman, was wafted from her.
"Look!" said Grushnitski, "there is Princess
Ligovski with her daughter Mary, as she calls her
after the English manner. They have been here
only three days."
"You already know her name, though?"
"Yes, I heard it by chance," he answered, with
a blush. "I confess I do not desire to make their
acquaintance. These haughty aristocrats look
upon us army men just as they would upon
savages. What care they if there is an intellect
beneath a numbered forage-cap, and a heart
beneath a thick cloak?"
"Poor cloak!" I said, with a laugh. "But who
is the gentleman who is just going up to them
and handing them a tumbler so officiously?"
"Oh, that is Raevich, the Moscow dandy. He
is a gambler; you can see as much at once from
that immense gold chain coiling across his sky-
blue waistcoat. And what a thick cane he has!
Just like Robinson Crusoe's -- and so is his beard
too, and his hair is done like a peasant's."
"You are embittered against the whole human
race?"
"And I have cause to be" . . .
"Oh, really?"
At that moment the ladies left the well and
came up to where we were. Grushnitski suc-
ceeded in assuming a dramatic pose with the aid
of his crutch, and in a loud tone of voice answered
me in French:
"Mon cher, je hais les hommes pour ne pas les
mepriser, car autrement la vie serait une farce
trop degoutante."
The pretty Princess Mary turned round and
favoured the orator with a long and curious
glance. Her expression was quite indefinite, but
it was not contemptuous, a fact on which I
inwardly congratulated Grushnitski from my
heart.
"She is an extremely pretty girl," I said. "She
has such velvet eyes -- yes, velvet is the word. I
should advise you to appropriate the expression
when speaking of her eyes. The lower and upper
lashes are so long that the sunbeams are not
reflected in her pupils. I love those eyes without
a glitter, they are so soft that they appear to
caress you. However, her eyes seem to be her
only good feature. . . Tell me, are her teeth
white? That is most important! It is a pity
that she did not smile at that high-sounding
phrase of yours."
"You are speaking of a pretty woman just as
you might of an English horse," said Grushnitski
indignantly.
"Mon cher," I answered, trying to mimic his
tone, "je meprise les femmes, pour ne pas les
aimer, car autrement la vie serait un melodrame
trop ridicule."
I turned and left him. For half an hour or so
I walked about the avenues of the vines, the
limestone cliffs and the bushes hanging between
them. The day grew hot, and I hurried home-
wards. Passing the sulphur spring, I stopped at
the covered gallery in order to regain my breath
under its shade, and by so doing I was afforded the
opportunity of witnessing a rather interesting
scene. This is the position in which the dramatis
personae were disposed: Princess Ligovski and
the Moscow dandy were sitting on a bench
in the covered gallery -- apparently engaged in
serious conversation. Princess Mary, who had
doubtless by this time finished her last tumbler,
was walking pensively to and fro by the well.
Grushnitski was standing by the well itself;
there was nobody else on the square.
I went up closer and concealed myself behind
a corner of the gallery. At that moment Grush-
nitski let his tumbler fall on the sand and made
strenuous efforts to stoop in order to pick it up;
but his injured foot prevented him. Poor
fellow! How he tried all kinds of artifices, as he
leaned on his crutch, and all in vain! His
expressive countenance was, in fact, a picture of
suffering.
Princess Mary saw the whole scene better
than I.
Lighter than a bird she sprang towards him,
stooped, picked up the tumbler, and handed it to
him with a gesture full of ineffable charm. Then
she blushed furiously, glanced round at the
gallery, and, having assured herself that her
mother apparently had not seen anything, im-
mediately regained her composure. By the time
Grushnitski had opened his mouth to thank her
she was a long way off. A moment after, she came
out of the gallery with her mother and the dandy,
but, in passing by Grushnitski, she assumed a most
decorous and serious air. She did not even turn
round, she did not even observe the passionate
gaze which he kept fixed upon her for a long time
until she had descended the mountain and was
hidden behind the lime trees of the boulevard. . .
Presently I caught glimpses of her hat as she
walked along the street. She hurried through
the gate of one of the best houses in Pyatigorsk;
her mother walked behind her and bowed adieu to
Raevich at the gate.
It was only then that the poor, passionate
cadet noticed my presence.
"Did you see?" he said, pressing my hand
vigorously. "She is an angel, simply an angel!"
"Why?" I inquired, with an air of the purest
simplicity.
"Did you not see, then?"
"No. I saw her picking up your tumbler. If
there had been an attendant there he would have
done the same thing -- and quicker too, in the hope
of receiving a tip. It is quite easy, however, to
understand that she pitied you; you made such a
terrible grimace when you walked on the wounded
foot."
"And can it be that seeing her, as you did,
at that moment when her soul was shining in her
eyes, you were not in the least affected?"
"No."
I was lying, but I wanted to exasperate him. I
have an innate passion for contradiction -- my
whole life has been nothing but a series of melan-
choly and vain contradictions of heart or reason.
The presence of an enthusiast chills me with a
twelfth-night cold, and I believe that constant
association with a person of a flaccid and phleg-
matic temperament would have turned me into
an impassioned visionary. I confess, too, that
an unpleasant but familiar sensation was coursing
lightly through my heart at that moment. It
was -- envy. I say "envy" boldly, because I am
accustomed to acknowledge everything to myself.
It would be hard to find a young man who, if his
idle fancy had been attracted by a pretty woman
and he had suddenly found her openly singling
out before his eyes another man equally unknown
to her -- it would be hard, I say, to find such a
young man (living, of course, in the great world
and accustomed to indulge his self-love) who
would not have been unpleasantly taken aback
in such a case.
In silence Grushnitski and I descended the
mountain and walked along the boulevard, past
the windows of the house where our beauty had
hidden herself. She was sitting by the window.
Grushnitski, plucking me by the arm, cast upon
her one of those gloomily tender glances which
have so little effect upon women. I directed my
lorgnette at her, and observed that she smiled at
his glance and that my insolent lorgnette made
her downright angry. And how, indeed, should
a Caucasian military man presume to direct his
eyeglass at a princess from Moscow? . . .
CHAPTER II
13th May.
THIS morning the doctor came to see me.
His name is Werner, but he is a Russian.
What is there surprising in that? I have known
a man named Ivanov, who was a German.
Werner is a remarkable man, and that for many
We met like a couple of old friends. I began
to question him about the personages of note and
as to the sort of life which was led at the waters.
"It is a rather prosaic life," he said, with a
sigh. "Those who drink the waters in the
morning are inert -- like all invalids, and those who
drink the wines in the evening are unendurable --
like all healthy people! There are ladies who
entertain, but there is no great amusement to be
obtained from them. They play whist, they
dress badly and speak French dreadfully! The
only Moscow people here this year are Princess
Ligovski and her daughter -- but I am not
acquainted with them. My soldier's cloak is like
a seal of renunciation. The sympathy which it
arouses is as painful as charity."
At that moment two ladies walked past us in
the direction of the well; one elderly, the other
youthful and slender. I could not obtain a good
view of their faces on account of their hats, but
they were dressed in accordance with the strict
rules of the best taste -- nothing superfluous.
The second lady was wearing a high-necked dress
of pearl-grey, and a light silk kerchief was wound
round her supple neck. Puce-coloured boots
clasped her slim little ankle so charmingly, that
even those uninitiated into the mysteries of
beauty would infallibly have sighed, if only from
wonder. There was something maidenly in her
easy, but aristocratic gait, something eluding
definition yet intelligible to the glance. As she
walked past us an indefinable perfume, like that
which sometimes breathes from the note of a
charming woman, was wafted from her.
"Look!" said Grushnitski, "there is Princess
Ligovski with her daughter Mary, as she calls her
after the English manner. They have been here
only three days."
"You already know her name, though?"
"Yes, I heard it by chance," he answered, with
a blush. "I confess I do not desire to make their
acquaintance. These haughty aristocrats look
upon us army men just as they would upon
savages. What care they if there is an intellect
beneath a numbered forage-cap, and a heart
beneath a thick cloak?"
"Poor cloak!" I said, with a laugh. "But who
is the gentleman who is just going up to them
and handing them a tumbler so officiously?"
"Oh, that is Raevich, the Moscow dandy. He
is a gambler; you can see as much at once from
that immense gold chain coiling across his sky-
blue waistcoat. And what a thick cane he has!
Just like Robinson Crusoe's -- and so is his beard
too, and his hair is done like a peasant's."
"You are embittered against the whole human
race?"
"And I have cause to be" . . .
"Oh, really?"
At that moment the ladies left the well and
came up to where we were. Grushnitski suc-
ceeded in assuming a dramatic pose with the aid
of his crutch, and in a loud tone of voice answered
me in French:
"Mon cher, je hais les hommes pour ne pas les
mepriser, car autrement la vie serait une farce
trop degoutante."
The pretty Princess Mary turned round and
favoured the orator with a long and curious
glance. Her expression was quite indefinite, but
it was not contemptuous, a fact on which I
inwardly congratulated Grushnitski from my
heart.
"She is an extremely pretty girl," I said. "She
has such velvet eyes -- yes, velvet is the word. I
should advise you to appropriate the expression
when speaking of her eyes. The lower and upper
lashes are so long that the sunbeams are not
reflected in her pupils. I love those eyes without
a glitter, they are so soft that they appear to
caress you. However, her eyes seem to be her
only good feature. . . Tell me, are her teeth
white? That is most important! It is a pity
that she did not smile at that high-sounding
phrase of yours."
"You are speaking of a pretty woman just as
you might of an English horse," said Grushnitski
indignantly.
"Mon cher," I answered, trying to mimic his
tone, "je meprise les femmes, pour ne pas les
aimer, car autrement la vie serait un melodrame
trop ridicule."
I turned and left him. For half an hour or so
I walked about the avenues of the vines, the
limestone cliffs and the bushes hanging between
them. The day grew hot, and I hurried home-
wards. Passing the sulphur spring, I stopped at
the covered gallery in order to regain my breath
under its shade, and by so doing I was afforded the
opportunity of witnessing a rather interesting
scene. This is the position in which the dramatis
personae were disposed: Princess Ligovski and
the Moscow dandy were sitting on a bench
in the covered gallery -- apparently engaged in
serious conversation. Princess Mary, who had
doubtless by this time finished her last tumbler,
was walking pensively to and fro by the well.
Grushnitski was standing by the well itself;
there was nobody else on the square.
I went up closer and concealed myself behind
a corner of the gallery. At that moment Grush-
nitski let his tumbler fall on the sand and made
strenuous efforts to stoop in order to pick it up;
but his injured foot prevented him. Poor
fellow! How he tried all kinds of artifices, as he
leaned on his crutch, and all in vain! His
expressive countenance was, in fact, a picture of
suffering.
Princess Mary saw the whole scene better
than I.
Lighter than a bird she sprang towards him,
stooped, picked up the tumbler, and handed it to
him with a gesture full of ineffable charm. Then
she blushed furiously, glanced round at the
gallery, and, having assured herself that her
mother apparently had not seen anything, im-
mediately regained her composure. By the time
Grushnitski had opened his mouth to thank her
she was a long way off. A moment after, she came
out of the gallery with her mother and the dandy,
but, in passing by Grushnitski, she assumed a most
decorous and serious air. She did not even turn
round, she did not even observe the passionate
gaze which he kept fixed upon her for a long time
until she had descended the mountain and was
hidden behind the lime trees of the boulevard. . .
Presently I caught glimpses of her hat as she
walked along the street. She hurried through
the gate of one of the best houses in Pyatigorsk;
her mother walked behind her and bowed adieu to
Raevich at the gate.
It was only then that the poor, passionate
cadet noticed my presence.
"Did you see?" he said, pressing my hand
vigorously. "She is an angel, simply an angel!"
"Why?" I inquired, with an air of the purest
simplicity.
"Did you not see, then?"
"No. I saw her picking up your tumbler. If
there had been an attendant there he would have
done the same thing -- and quicker too, in the hope
of receiving a tip. It is quite easy, however, to
understand that she pitied you; you made such a
terrible grimace when you walked on the wounded
foot."
"And can it be that seeing her, as you did,
at that moment when her soul was shining in her
eyes, you were not in the least affected?"
"No."
I was lying, but I wanted to exasperate him. I
have an innate passion for contradiction -- my
whole life has been nothing but a series of melan-
choly and vain contradictions of heart or reason.
The presence of an enthusiast chills me with a
twelfth-night cold, and I believe that constant
association with a person of a flaccid and phleg-
matic temperament would have turned me into
an impassioned visionary. I confess, too, that
an unpleasant but familiar sensation was coursing
lightly through my heart at that moment. It
was -- envy. I say "envy" boldly, because I am
accustomed to acknowledge everything to myself.
It would be hard to find a young man who, if his
idle fancy had been attracted by a pretty woman
and he had suddenly found her openly singling
out before his eyes another man equally unknown
to her -- it would be hard, I say, to find such a
young man (living, of course, in the great world
and accustomed to indulge his self-love) who
would not have been unpleasantly taken aback
in such a case.
In silence Grushnitski and I descended the
mountain and walked along the boulevard, past
the windows of the house where our beauty had
hidden herself. She was sitting by the window.
Grushnitski, plucking me by the arm, cast upon
her one of those gloomily tender glances which
have so little effect upon women. I directed my
lorgnette at her, and observed that she smiled at
his glance and that my insolent lorgnette made
her downright angry. And how, indeed, should
a Caucasian military man presume to direct his
eyeglass at a princess from Moscow? . . .
CHAPTER II
13th May.
THIS morning the doctor came to see me.
His name is Werner, but he is a Russian.
What is there surprising in that? I have known
a man named Ivanov, who was a German.
Werner is a remarkable man, and that for many
- healthy [´helθi]
a.健康的 (初中英语单词) - amusement [ə´mju:zmənt] n.娱乐；文娱设施 (初中英语单词)
- moscow [´mɔskəu] n.莫斯科 (初中英语单词)
- sympathy [´simpəθi] n.同情，怜悯 (初中英语单词)
- slender [´slendə] a.细长的；微薄的 (初中英语单词)
- obtain [əb´tein] v.获得；买到；得到承认 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- perfume [´pə:fju:m, pə´fju:m] n.香味 vt.使发香 (初中英语单词)
- confess [kən´fes] vt.供认；坦白；承认 (初中英语单词)
- immense [i´mens] a.广大的，无限的 (初中英语单词)
- dramatic [drə´mætik] a.戏剧的；戏剧般的 (初中英语单词)
- princess [,prin´ses] n.公主；王妃；亲王夫人 (初中英语单词)
- extremely [ik´stri:mli] ad.极端地；非常地 (初中英语单词)
- velvet [´velvit] n.&a.天鹅绒(般的) (初中英语单词)
- advise [əd´vaiz] vt.忠告；建议；通知 (初中英语单词)
- glitter [´glitə] n.光辉 vi.闪烁，炫耀 (初中英语单词)
- sulphur [´sʌlfə] n.硫，硫磺 (初中英语单词)
- gallery [´gæləri] n.画廊；美术馆；长廊 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- countenance [´kauntinəns] n.面部表情；脸色；面容 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- gesture [´dʒestʃə] n.手势 v.打手势 (初中英语单词)
- attendant [ə´tendənt] n.随员 a.伴随的 (初中英语单词)
- passion [´pæʃən] n.激情；激怒；恋爱 (初中英语单词)
- series [´siəri:z] n.连续；系列；丛书 (初中英语单词)
- sensation [sen´seiʃən] n.感觉；轰动；轰动一时 (初中英语单词)
- acknowledge [ək´nɔlidʒ] vt.(公开)承认；感谢 (初中英语单词)
- equally [´i:kwəli] ad.相等地；平等地 (初中英语单词)
- surprising [sə´praiziŋ] a.惊人的；意外的 (初中英语单词)
- remarkable [ri´mɑ:kəbl] a.值得注意的；显著的 (初中英语单词)
- painful [´peinfəl] a.痛(苦)的；费力的 (高中英语单词)
- accordance [ə´kɔ:dəns] n.一致；调和 (高中英语单词)
- haughty [´hɔ:ti] a.傲慢的，高傲的 (高中英语单词)
- crutch [krʌtʃ] n.拐(杖) (高中英语单词)
- appropriate [ə´prəupri-it, ə´prəuprieit] a.适宜的 vt.私占；拨给 (高中英语单词)
- hanging [´hæŋiŋ] n.绞刑 a.悬挂着的 (高中英语单词)
- hurried [´hʌrid] a.仓促的，慌忙的 (高中英语单词)
- regain [ri´gein] vt.收回；恢复 (高中英语单词)
- apparently [ə´pærəntli] ad.显然，表面上地 (高中英语单词)
- furiously [´fjuəriəsli] ad.狂怒地；有力地 (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- temperament [´tempərəmənt] n.气质；性格 (高中英语单词)
- unpleasant [ʌn´plezənt] a.不愉快的；不合意的 (高中英语单词)
- boldly [´bəuldli] ad.大胆地；醒目地 (高中英语单词)
- openly [´əupənli] ad.公开地；直率地 (高中英语单词)
- indulge [in´dʌldʒ] v.(使)沉迷；沉溺；放任 (高中英语单词)
- presume [pri´zju:m] v.假定；推测；以为 (高中英语单词)
- elderly [´eldəli] a. 较老的，年长的 (英语四级单词)
- aristocratic [,æristə´krætik] a.贵族政治的；贵族的 (英语四级单词)
- orator [´ɔrətə] n.演说者；雄辩家 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- composure [kəm´pəuʒə] n.镇静，沉着 (英语四级单词)
- contradiction [,kɔntrə´dikʃən] n.矛盾；反驳；抵触 (英语四级单词)
- kerchief [´kə:tʃif] n.头巾，围巾 (英语六级单词)
- tumbler [´tʌmblə] n.杂技演员；不倒翁 (英语六级单词)
- gambler [´gæmblə] n.赌徒 (英语六级单词)
- waistcoat [´weskət, ´weiskəut] n.背心，马甲 (英语六级单词)
- indefinite [in´definit] a.模糊的；无限期的 (英语六级单词)
- contemptuous [kən´temptjuəs] a.蔑视的；傲慢的 (英语六级单词)
- speaking [´spi:kiŋ] n.说话 a.发言的 (英语六级单词)
- assured [ə´ʃuəd] a.确实的 n.被保险人 (英语六级单词)
- boulevard [´bu:ləvɑ:d] n.林荫大道 (英语六级单词)
- exasperate [ig´zɑ:spəreit] vt.激怒，触怒 (英语六级单词)
- enthusiast [in´θju:ziæst] n.热衷者，渴慕者 (英语六级单词)
- gloomily [´glu:mili] adv.忧郁的 (英语六级单词)
- insolent [´insələnt] a.傲慢的；无礼的 (英语六级单词)
- downright [´daunrait] a.直率的 ad.彻底 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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