章节正文
reasons. Like almost all medical men he is a
sceptic and a materialist, but, at the same time,
he is a genuine poet -- a poet always in deeds and
often in words, although he has never written
two verses in his life. He has mastered all the
living chords of the human heart, just as one
learns the veins of a corpse, but he has never
known how to avail himself of his knowledge. In
like manner, it sometimes happens that an
excellent anatomist does not know how to cure a
fever. Werner usually made fun of his patients
in private; but once I saw him weeping over a
dying soldier. . . He was poor, and dreamed
of millions, but he would not take a single step
out of his way for the sake of money. He once
told me that he would rather do a favour to an
enemy than to a friend, because, in the latter
case, it would mean selling his beneficence, whilst
hatred only increases proportionately to the
magnanimity of the adversary. He had a
malicious tongue; and more than one good,
simple soul has acquired the reputation of a
vulgar fool through being labelled with one of his
epigrams. His rivals, enviousmedical men of the
watering-place, spread the report that he was in
the habit of drawing caricatures of his patients.
The patients were incensed, and almost all of
them discarded him. His friends, that is to
say all the genuinely well-bred people who were
serving in the Caucasus, vainly endeavoured to
restore his fallen credit.
His outward appearance was of the type which,
at the first glance, creates an unpleasant impres-
sion, but which you get to like in course of
time, when the eye learns to read in the ir-
regular features the stamp of a tried and lofty
soul. Instances have been known of women
falling madly in love with men of that sort, and
having no desire to exchange their ugliness for the
beauty of the freshest and rosiest of Endymions.
We must give women their due: they possess an
instinct for spiritual beauty, for which reason,
possibly, men such as Werner love women so
passionately.
Werner was small and lean and as weak as a
baby. One of his legs was shorter than the other,
as was the case with Byron. In comparison with
his body, his head seemed enormous. His hair was
cropped close, and the unevennesses of his cranium,
thus laid bare, would have struck a phrenologist
by reason of the strange intertexture of con-
tradictory propensities. His little, ever restless,
black eyes seemed as if they were endeavouring
to fathom your thoughts. Taste and neatness
were to be observed in his dress. His small, lean,
sinewy hands flaunted themselves in bright-yellow
gloves. His frock-coat, cravat and waistcoat were
invariably of black. The young men dubbed him
Mephistopheles; he pretended to be angry at the
nickname, but in reality it flattered his vanity.
Werner and I soon understood each other and
became friends, because I, for my part, am ill-
adapted for friendship. Of two friends, one is
always the slave of the other, although frequently
neither acknowledges the fact to himself. Now,
the slave I could not be; and to be the master
would be a wearisome trouble, because, at the
same time, deception would be required. Besides,
I have servants and money!
Our friendship originated in the following
circumstances. I met Werner at S----, in the
midst of a numerous and noisy circle of young
people. Towards the end of the evening the
conversation took a philosophico-metaphysical
turn. We discussed the subject of convictions,
and each of us had some different conviction to
declare.
"So far as I am concerned," said the doctor,
"I am convinced of one thing only" . . .
"And that is --?" I asked, desirous of
learning the opinion of a man who had been silent
till then.
"Of the fact," he answered, "that sooner or
later, one fine morning, I shall die."
"I am better off than you," I said. "In addi-
tion to that, I have a further conviction, namely,
that, one very nasty evening, I had the misfor-
tune to be born."
All the others considered that we were talking
nonsense, but indeed not one of them said any-
thing more sensible. From that moment we
singled each other out amongst the crowd. We
used frequently to meet and discuss abstract
subjects in a very serious manner, until each
observed that the other was throwing dust in his
eyes. Then, looking significantly at each other --
as, according to Cicero, the Roman augurs used
to do -- we would burst out laughing heartily and,
having had our laugh, we would separate, well
content with our evening.
I was lying on a couch, my eyes fixed upon the
ceiling and my hands clasped behind my head,
when Werner entered my room. He sat down in
an easy chair, placed his cane in a corner, yawned,
and announced that it was getting hot out of
doors. I replied that the flies were bothering
me -- and we both fell silent.
"Observe, my dear doctor," I said, "that, but
for fools, the world would be a very dull place.
Look! Here are you and I, both sensible men!
We know beforehand that it is possible to dispute
ad infinitum about everything -- and so we do not
dispute. Each of us knows almost all the other's
secret thoughts: to us a single word is a whole
history; we see the grain of every one of our
feelings through a threefold husk. What is sad,
we laugh at; what is laughable, we grieve at;
but, to tell the truth, we are fairly indifferent,
generally speaking, to everything except our-
selves. Consequently, there can be no inter-
change of feelings and thoughts between us;
each of us knows all he cares to know about the
other, and that knowledge is all he wants. One
expedient remains -- to tell the news. So tell me
some news."
Fatigued by this lengthy speech, I closed my
eyes and yawned. The doctor answered after
thinking awhile:
"There is an idea, all the same, in that non-
sense of yours."
"Two," I replied.
"Tell me one, and I will tell you the other."
"Very well, begin!" I said, continuing to
examine the ceiling and smiling inwardly.
"You are anxious for information about some
of the new-comers here, and I can guess who it is,
because they, for their part, have already been
inquiring about you."
"Doctor! Decidedly it is impossible for us to
hold a conversation! We read into each other's
soul."
"Now the other idea?" . . .
"Here it is: I wanted to make you relate
something, for the following reasons: firstly,
listening is less fatiguing than talking; secondly,
the listener cannot commit himself; thirdly, he
can learn another's secret; fourthly, sensible
people, such as you, prefer listeners to speakers.
Now to business; what did Princess Ligovski tell
you about me?"
"You are quite sure that it was Princess
Ligovski . . . and not Princess Mary?" . . .
"Quite sure."
"Why?"
"Because Princess Mary inquired about Grush-
nitski."
"You are gifted with a fine imagination!
Princess Mary said that she was convinced that
the young man in the soldier's cloak had been
reduced to the ranks on account of a duel" . . .
"I hope you left her cherishing that pleasant
delusion" . . .
"Of course" . . .
"A plot!" I exclaimed in rapture. "We will
make it our business to see to the denouement of
this little comedy. It is obvious that fate is
taking care that I shall not be bored!"
"I have a presentiment," said the doctor,
"that poor Grushnitski will be your victim."
"Proceed, doctor."
"Princess Ligovski said that your face was
familiar to her. I observed that she had probably
met you in Petersburg -- somewhere in society. . .
I told her your name. She knew it well. It appears
that your history created a great stir there. . .
She began to tell us of your adventures, most
likely supplementing the gossip of society with
observations of her own. . . Her daughter listened
with curiosity. In her imagination you have be-
come the hero of a novel in a new style. . . I
did not contradict Princess Ligovski, although
I knew that she was talking nonsense."
"Worthy friend!" I said, extending my hand
to him.
The doctor pressed it feelingly and continued:
"If you like I will present you" . . .
"Good heavens!" I said, clapping my hands.
"Are heroes ever presented? In no other way do
they make the acquaintance of their beloved than
by saving her from certain death!" . . .
"And you really wish to court Princess Mary?"
"Not at all, far from it! . . . Doctor, I triumph
at last! You do not understand me! . . .
It vexes me, however," I continued after a
moment's silence. "I never reveal my secrets
myself, but I am exceedingly fond of their being
guessed, because in that way I can always disavow
them upon occasion. However, you must describe
both mother and daughter to me. What sort of
people are they?"
"In the first place, Princess Ligovski is a
sceptic and a materialist, but, at the same time,
he is a genuine poet -- a poet always in deeds and
often in words, although he has never written
two verses in his life. He has mastered all the
living chords of the human heart, just as one
learns the veins of a corpse, but he has never
known how to avail himself of his knowledge. In
like manner, it sometimes happens that an
excellent anatomist does not know how to cure a
fever. Werner usually made fun of his patients
in private; but once I saw him weeping over a
dying soldier. . . He was poor, and dreamed
of millions, but he would not take a single step
out of his way for the sake of money. He once
told me that he would rather do a favour to an
enemy than to a friend, because, in the latter
case, it would mean selling his beneficence, whilst
hatred only increases proportionately to the
magnanimity of the adversary. He had a
malicious tongue; and more than one good,
simple soul has acquired the reputation of a
vulgar fool through being labelled with one of his
epigrams. His rivals, enviousmedical men of the
watering-place, spread the report that he was in
the habit of drawing caricatures of his patients.
The patients were incensed, and almost all of
them discarded him. His friends, that is to
say all the genuinely well-bred people who were
serving in the Caucasus, vainly endeavoured to
restore his fallen credit.
His outward appearance was of the type which,
at the first glance, creates an unpleasant impres-
sion, but which you get to like in course of
time, when the eye learns to read in the ir-
regular features the stamp of a tried and lofty
soul. Instances have been known of women
falling madly in love with men of that sort, and
having no desire to exchange their ugliness for the
beauty of the freshest and rosiest of Endymions.
We must give women their due: they possess an
instinct for spiritual beauty, for which reason,
possibly, men such as Werner love women so
passionately.
Werner was small and lean and as weak as a
baby. One of his legs was shorter than the other,
as was the case with Byron. In comparison with
his body, his head seemed enormous. His hair was
cropped close, and the unevennesses of his cranium,
thus laid bare, would have struck a phrenologist
by reason of the strange intertexture of con-
tradictory propensities. His little, ever restless,
black eyes seemed as if they were endeavouring
to fathom your thoughts. Taste and neatness
were to be observed in his dress. His small, lean,
sinewy hands flaunted themselves in bright-yellow
gloves. His frock-coat, cravat and waistcoat were
invariably of black. The young men dubbed him
Mephistopheles; he pretended to be angry at the
nickname, but in reality it flattered his vanity.
Werner and I soon understood each other and
became friends, because I, for my part, am ill-
adapted for friendship. Of two friends, one is
always the slave of the other, although frequently
neither acknowledges the fact to himself. Now,
the slave I could not be; and to be the master
would be a wearisome trouble, because, at the
same time, deception would be required. Besides,
I have servants and money!
Our friendship originated in the following
circumstances. I met Werner at S----, in the
midst of a numerous and noisy circle of young
people. Towards the end of the evening the
conversation took a philosophico-metaphysical
turn. We discussed the subject of convictions,
and each of us had some different conviction to
declare.
"So far as I am concerned," said the doctor,
"I am convinced of one thing only" . . .
"And that is --?" I asked, desirous of
learning the opinion of a man who had been silent
till then.
"Of the fact," he answered, "that sooner or
later, one fine morning, I shall die."
"I am better off than you," I said. "In addi-
tion to that, I have a further conviction, namely,
that, one very nasty evening, I had the misfor-
tune to be born."
All the others considered that we were talking
nonsense, but indeed not one of them said any-
thing more sensible. From that moment we
singled each other out amongst the crowd. We
used frequently to meet and discuss abstract
subjects in a very serious manner, until each
observed that the other was throwing dust in his
eyes. Then, looking significantly at each other --
as, according to Cicero, the Roman augurs used
to do -- we would burst out laughing heartily and,
having had our laugh, we would separate, well
content with our evening.
I was lying on a couch, my eyes fixed upon the
ceiling and my hands clasped behind my head,
when Werner entered my room. He sat down in
an easy chair, placed his cane in a corner, yawned,
and announced that it was getting hot out of
doors. I replied that the flies were bothering
me -- and we both fell silent.
"Observe, my dear doctor," I said, "that, but
for fools, the world would be a very dull place.
Look! Here are you and I, both sensible men!
We know beforehand that it is possible to dispute
ad infinitum about everything -- and so we do not
dispute. Each of us knows almost all the other's
secret thoughts: to us a single word is a whole
history; we see the grain of every one of our
feelings through a threefold husk. What is sad,
we laugh at; what is laughable, we grieve at;
but, to tell the truth, we are fairly indifferent,
generally speaking, to everything except our-
selves. Consequently, there can be no inter-
change of feelings and thoughts between us;
each of us knows all he cares to know about the
other, and that knowledge is all he wants. One
expedient remains -- to tell the news. So tell me
some news."
Fatigued by this lengthy speech, I closed my
eyes and yawned. The doctor answered after
thinking awhile:
"There is an idea, all the same, in that non-
sense of yours."
"Two," I replied.
"Tell me one, and I will tell you the other."
"Very well, begin!" I said, continuing to
examine the ceiling and smiling inwardly.
"You are anxious for information about some
of the new-comers here, and I can guess who it is,
because they, for their part, have already been
inquiring about you."
"Doctor! Decidedly it is impossible for us to
hold a conversation! We read into each other's
soul."
"Now the other idea?" . . .
"Here it is: I wanted to make you relate
something, for the following reasons: firstly,
listening is less fatiguing than talking; secondly,
the listener cannot commit himself; thirdly, he
can learn another's secret; fourthly, sensible
people, such as you, prefer listeners to speakers.
Now to business; what did Princess Ligovski tell
you about me?"
"You are quite sure that it was Princess
Ligovski . . . and not Princess Mary?" . . .
"Quite sure."
"Why?"
"Because Princess Mary inquired about Grush-
nitski."
"You are gifted with a fine imagination!
Princess Mary said that she was convinced that
the young man in the soldier's cloak had been
reduced to the ranks on account of a duel" . . .
"I hope you left her cherishing that pleasant
delusion" . . .
"Of course" . . .
"A plot!" I exclaimed in rapture. "We will
make it our business to see to the denouement of
this little comedy. It is obvious that fate is
taking care that I shall not be bored!"
"I have a presentiment," said the doctor,
"that poor Grushnitski will be your victim."
"Proceed, doctor."
"Princess Ligovski said that your face was
familiar to her. I observed that she had probably
met you in Petersburg -- somewhere in society. . .
I told her your name. She knew it well. It appears
that your history created a great stir there. . .
She began to tell us of your adventures, most
likely supplementing the gossip of society with
observations of her own. . . Her daughter listened
with curiosity. In her imagination you have be-
come the hero of a novel in a new style. . . I
did not contradict Princess Ligovski, although
I knew that she was talking nonsense."
"Worthy friend!" I said, extending my hand
to him.
The doctor pressed it feelingly and continued:
"If you like I will present you" . . .
"Good heavens!" I said, clapping my hands.
"Are heroes ever presented? In no other way do
they make the acquaintance of their beloved than
by saving her from certain death!" . . .
"And you really wish to court Princess Mary?"
"Not at all, far from it! . . . Doctor, I triumph
at last! You do not understand me! . . .
It vexes me, however," I continued after a
moment's silence. "I never reveal my secrets
myself, but I am exceedingly fond of their being
guessed, because in that way I can always disavow
them upon occasion. However, you must describe
both mother and daughter to me. What sort of
people are they?"
"In the first place, Princess Ligovski is a
- medical [´medikəl]
a.医学的；医疗的 (初中英语单词) - spiritual [´spiritʃuəl] a.精神(上)的；神圣的 (初中英语单词)
- comparison [kəm´pærisən] n.比较；对照；比喻 (初中英语单词)
- enormous [i´nɔ:məs] a.巨大地，很，极 (初中英语单词)
- reality [ri´æliti] n.现实(性)；真实；逼真 (初中英语单词)
- circle [´sə:kəl] n.圆圈 v.环绕；盘旋 (初中英语单词)
- conviction [kən´vikʃən] n.定罪；确信，信服 (初中英语单词)
- sensible [´sensəbəl] a.感觉得到的 (初中英语单词)
- grieve [gri:v] v.&n.(使)悲痛；哀悼 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- commit [kə´mit] vt.犯(罪)；把...判处 (初中英语单词)
- princess [,prin´ses] n.公主；王妃；亲王夫人 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- obvious [´ɔbviəs] a.明显的；显而易见的 (初中英语单词)
- curiosity [,kjuəri´ɔsiti] n.好奇；奇事；珍品 (初中英语单词)
- imagination [i,mædʒi´neiʃən] n.想象(力) (初中英语单词)
- acquaintance [ə´kweintəns] n.相识；熟人，相识的人 (初中英语单词)
- beloved [bi´lʌvd] a.为....所爱的 n.爱人 (初中英语单词)
- genuine [´dʒenjuin] a.真正的；真诚的 (高中英语单词)
- vainly [´veinli] ad.虚荣地；自负地 (高中英语单词)
- outward [´autwəd] a.外面的 ad.向外 (高中英语单词)
- unpleasant [ʌn´plezənt] a.不愉快的；不合意的 (高中英语单词)
- amongst [ə´mʌŋst] prep.其中之一 =among (高中英语单词)
- heartily [´hɑ:tili] ad.衷心地；亲切地 (高中英语单词)
- consequently [´kɔnsikwəntli] ad.因此，所以 (高中英语单词)
- decidedly [di´saididli] ad.坚决地，果断地 (高中英语单词)
- rapture [´ræptʃə] n.着迷；全神贯注 (高中英语单词)
- comedy [´kɔmidi] n.喜剧；喜剧场面 (高中英语单词)
- gossip [´gɔsip] n.&vi.说闲话；聊天 (高中英语单词)
- exceedingly [ik´si:diŋli] ad.非常地，极度地 (高中英语单词)
- corpse [kɔ:ps] n.尸体 (英语四级单词)
- adversary [´ædvəsəri] n.敌手，对手 (英语四级单词)
- reputation [repju´teiʃən] n.名誉；名声；信誉 (英语四级单词)
- envious [´enviəs] a.妒忌的，羡慕的 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- fathom [´fæðəm] n.英寻 vt.推测，揣摩 (英语四级单词)
- desirous [di´zaiərəs] a.渴望的；想往的 (英语四级单词)
- beforehand [bi´fɔ:hænd] ad.事先；提前 (英语四级单词)
- listener [´lisənə] n.(收)听者，听众之一 (英语四级单词)
- gifted [´giftid] a.有天赋的，有才华的 (英语四级单词)
- contradict [,kɔntrə´dikt] v.反驳；否认 (英语四级单词)
- weeping [´wi:piŋ] a.&n.哭泣(的) (英语六级单词)
- genuinely [´dʒenjuinli] ad.由衷地 (英语六级单词)
- cravat [krə´væt] n.领带；围巾 (英语六级单词)
- waistcoat [´weskət, ´weiskəut] n.背心，马甲 (英语六级单词)
- deception [di´sepʃən] n.欺骗，诈骗；骗术 (英语六级单词)
- speaking [´spi:kiŋ] n.说话 a.发言的 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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