章节正文
alone. Throwing down the bridle and letting my
head fall on my breast, I rode for a long time, and
at length found myself in a spot with which I was
wholly unfamiliar. I turned my horse back and
began to search for the road. The sun had al-
ready set by the time I had ridden up to Kislo-
vodsk -- myself and my horse both utterly spent!
My servant told me that Werner had called,
and he handed me two notes: one from Werner,
the other . . . from Vera.
I opened the first; its contents were as follows:
"Everything has been arranged as well as could
be; the mutilated body has been brought in;
and the bullet extracted from the breast. Every-
body is convinced that the cause of death was an
unfortunate accident; only the Commandant,
who was doubtless aware of your quarrel, shook
his head, but he said nothing. There are no
proofs at all against you, and you may sleep in
peace . . . if you can. . . . Farewell!" . . .
For a long time I could not make up my mind
to open the second note. . . What could it be
that she was writing to me? . . . My soul was
agitated by a painful foreboding.
Here it is, that letter, each word of which is
indelibly engraved upon my memory:
"I am writing to you in the full assurance that
we shall never see each other again. A few years
ago on parting with you I thought the same.
However, it has been Heaven's will to try me a
second time: I have not been able to endure the
trial, my frail heart has again submitted to the
well-known voice. . . You will not despise me
for that -- will you? This letter will be at once a
farewell and a confession: I am obliged to tell
you everything that has been treasured up in my
heart since it began to love you. I will not accuse
you -- you have acted towards me as any other
man would have acted; you have loved me as a
chattel, as a source of joys, disquietudes and
griefs, interchanging one with the other, without
which life would be dull and monotonous. I
have understood all that from the first. . . But
you were unhappy, and I have sacrificed myself,
hoping that, some time, you would appreciate my
sacrifice, that some time you would understand
my deep tenderness, unfettered by any condi-
tions. A long time has elapsed since then: I
have fathomed all the secrets of your soul. . .
and I have convinced myself that my hope was
vain. It has been a bitter blow to me! But my
love has been grafted with my soul; it has grown
dark, but has not been extinguished.
"We are parting for ever; yet you may be
sure that I shall never love another. Upon you
my soul has exhausted all its treasures, its tears,
its hopes. She who has once loved you cannot
look without a certain disdain upon other men,
not because you have been better than they, oh,
no! but in your nature there is something pecu-
liar -- belonging to you alone, something proud
and mysterious; in your voice, whatever the
words spoken, there is an invincible power. No
one can so constantly wish to be loved, in no one
is wickedness ever so attractive, no one's glance
promises so much bliss, no one can better make
use of his advantages, and no one can be so truly
unhappy as you, because no one endeavours so
earnestly to convince himself of the contrary.
"Now I must explain the cause of my hurried
departure; it will seem of little importance to
you, because it concerns me alone.
"This morning my husband came in and told
me about your quarrel with Grushnitski. Evi-
dently I changed countenance greatly, because he
looked me in the face long and intently. I almost
fainted at the thought that you had to fight a
duel to-day, and that I was the cause of it; it
seemed to me that I should go mad. . . But
now, when I am able to reason, I am sure that
you remain alive: it is impossible that you should
die, and I not with you -- impossible! My hus-
band walked about the room for a long time. I
do not know what he said to me, I do not remem-
ber what I answered. . . Most likely I told him
that I loved you. . . I only remember that, at
the end of our conversation, he insulted me with
a dreadful word and left the room. I heard him
ordering the carriage. . . I have been sitting at
the window three hours now, awaiting your re-
turn. . . But you are alive, you cannot have
died! . . . The carriage is almost ready. . .
Good-bye, good-bye! . . . I have perished -- but
what matter? If I could be sure that you will
always remember me -- I no longer say love -- no,
only remember . . . Good-bye, they are com-
ing! . . . I must hide this letter.
"You do not love Mary, do you? You will
not marry her? Listen, you must offer me that
sacrifice. I have lost everything in the world for
you" . . .
Like a madman I sprang on the steps, jumped
on my Circassian horse which was being led about
the courtyard, and set off at full gallop along the
road to Pyatigorsk. Unsparingly I urged on the
jaded horse, which, snorting and all in a foam,
carried me swiftly along the rocky road.
The sun had already disappeared behind a black
cloud, which had been resting on the ridge of the
western mountains; the gorge grew dark and
damp. The Podkumok, forcing its way over the
rocks, roared with a hollow and monotonous
sound. I galloped on, choking with impatience.
The idea of not finding Vera in Pyatigorsk struck
my heart like a hammer. For one minute, again
to see her for one minute, to say farewell, to
press her hand. . . I prayed, cursed, wept,
laughed. . . No, nothing could express my
anxiety, my despair! . . . Now that it seemed
possible that I might be about to lose her for ever,
Vera became dearer to me than aught in the
world -- dearer than life, honour, happiness! God
knows what strange, what mad plans swarmed in
my head. . . Meanwhile I still galloped, urging
on my horse without pity. And, now, I began to
notice that he was breathing more heavily; he
had already stumbled once or twice on level
ground. . . I was five versts from Essentuki --
a Cossack village where I could change horses.
All would have been saved had my horse been
able to hold out for another ten minutes. But
suddenly, in lifting himself out of a little gulley
where the road emerges from the mountains at a
sharp turn, he fell to the ground. I jumped down
promptly, I tried to lift him up, I tugged at his
bridle -- in vain. A scarcely audible moan burst
through his clenched teeth; in a few moments
he expired. I was left on the steppe, alone; I
had lost my last hope. I endeavoured to walk --
my legs sank under me; exhausted by the
anxieties of the day and by sleeplessness, I fell
upon the wet grass and burst out crying like a
child.
For a long time I lay motionless and wept
bitterly, without attempting to restrain my tears
and sobs. I thought my breast would burst. All
my firmness, all my coolness, disappeared like
smoke; my soul grew powerless, my reason silent,
and, if anyone had seen me at that moment, he
would have turned aside with contempt.
When the night-dew and the mountain breeze
had cooled my burning brow, and my thoughts
had resumed their usual course, I realized that to
pursue my perished happiness would be unavail-
ing and unreasonable. What more did I want? --
To see her? -- Why? Was not all over between
us? A single, bitter, farewell kiss would not have
enriched my recollections, and, after it, parting
would only have been more difficult for us.
Still, I am pleased that I can weep. Perhaps,
however, the cause of that was my shattered
nerves, a night passed without sleep, two minutes
opposite the muzzle of a pistol, and an empty
stomach.
It is all for the best. That new suffering
created within me a fortunatediversion -- to speak
in military style. To weep is healthy, and then,
no doubt, if I had not ridden as I did and had
not been obliged to walk fifteen versts on my way
back, sleep would not have closed my eyes on that
night either.
I returned to Kislovodsk at five o'clock in the
morning, threw myself on my bed, and slept the
sleep of Napoleon after Waterloo.
By the time I awoke it was dark outside. I sat by
the open window, with my jacket unbuttoned --
and the mountain breeze cooled my breast, still
troubled by the heavy sleep of weariness. In
the distance beyond the river, through the tops
of the thick lime trees which overshadowed it,
lights were glancing in the fortress and the vil-
lage. Close at hand all was calm. It was dark in
Princess Ligovski's house.
The doctor entered; his brows were knit;
contrary to custom, he did not offer me his
hand.
"Where have you come from, doctor?"
"From Princess Ligovski's; her daughter is
ill -- nervousexhaustion. . . That is not the
point, though. This is what I have come to tell
you: the authorities are suspicious, and, although
it is impossible to prove anything positively, I
should, all the same, advise you to be cautious.
Princess Ligovski told me to-day that she knew
that you fought a duel on her daughter's account.
That little old man -- what's his name? -- has
told her everything. He was a witness of
your quarrel with Grushnitski in the restaurant.
I have come to warn you. Good-bye. Maybe
we shall not meet again: you will be banished
somewhere."
head fall on my breast, I rode for a long time, and
at length found myself in a spot with which I was
wholly unfamiliar. I turned my horse back and
began to search for the road. The sun had al-
ready set by the time I had ridden up to Kislo-
vodsk -- myself and my horse both utterly spent!
My servant told me that Werner had called,
and he handed me two notes: one from Werner,
the other . . . from Vera.
I opened the first; its contents were as follows:
"Everything has been arranged as well as could
be; the mutilated body has been brought in;
and the bullet extracted from the breast. Every-
body is convinced that the cause of death was an
unfortunate accident; only the Commandant,
who was doubtless aware of your quarrel, shook
his head, but he said nothing. There are no
proofs at all against you, and you may sleep in
peace . . . if you can. . . . Farewell!" . . .
For a long time I could not make up my mind
to open the second note. . . What could it be
that she was writing to me? . . . My soul was
agitated by a painful foreboding.
Here it is, that letter, each word of which is
indelibly engraved upon my memory:
"I am writing to you in the full assurance that
we shall never see each other again. A few years
ago on parting with you I thought the same.
However, it has been Heaven's will to try me a
second time: I have not been able to endure the
trial, my frail heart has again submitted to the
well-known voice. . . You will not despise me
for that -- will you? This letter will be at once a
farewell and a confession: I am obliged to tell
you everything that has been treasured up in my
heart since it began to love you. I will not accuse
you -- you have acted towards me as any other
man would have acted; you have loved me as a
chattel, as a source of joys, disquietudes and
griefs, interchanging one with the other, without
which life would be dull and monotonous. I
have understood all that from the first. . . But
you were unhappy, and I have sacrificed myself,
hoping that, some time, you would appreciate my
sacrifice, that some time you would understand
my deep tenderness, unfettered by any condi-
tions. A long time has elapsed since then: I
have fathomed all the secrets of your soul. . .
and I have convinced myself that my hope was
vain. It has been a bitter blow to me! But my
love has been grafted with my soul; it has grown
dark, but has not been extinguished.
"We are parting for ever; yet you may be
sure that I shall never love another. Upon you
my soul has exhausted all its treasures, its tears,
its hopes. She who has once loved you cannot
look without a certain disdain upon other men,
not because you have been better than they, oh,
no! but in your nature there is something pecu-
liar -- belonging to you alone, something proud
and mysterious; in your voice, whatever the
words spoken, there is an invincible power. No
one can so constantly wish to be loved, in no one
is wickedness ever so attractive, no one's glance
promises so much bliss, no one can better make
use of his advantages, and no one can be so truly
unhappy as you, because no one endeavours so
earnestly to convince himself of the contrary.
"Now I must explain the cause of my hurried
departure; it will seem of little importance to
you, because it concerns me alone.
"This morning my husband came in and told
me about your quarrel with Grushnitski. Evi-
dently I changed countenance greatly, because he
looked me in the face long and intently. I almost
fainted at the thought that you had to fight a
duel to-day, and that I was the cause of it; it
seemed to me that I should go mad. . . But
now, when I am able to reason, I am sure that
you remain alive: it is impossible that you should
die, and I not with you -- impossible! My hus-
band walked about the room for a long time. I
do not know what he said to me, I do not remem-
ber what I answered. . . Most likely I told him
that I loved you. . . I only remember that, at
the end of our conversation, he insulted me with
a dreadful word and left the room. I heard him
ordering the carriage. . . I have been sitting at
the window three hours now, awaiting your re-
turn. . . But you are alive, you cannot have
died! . . . The carriage is almost ready. . .
Good-bye, good-bye! . . . I have perished -- but
what matter? If I could be sure that you will
always remember me -- I no longer say love -- no,
only remember . . . Good-bye, they are com-
ing! . . . I must hide this letter.
"You do not love Mary, do you? You will
not marry her? Listen, you must offer me that
sacrifice. I have lost everything in the world for
you" . . .
Like a madman I sprang on the steps, jumped
on my Circassian horse which was being led about
the courtyard, and set off at full gallop along the
road to Pyatigorsk. Unsparingly I urged on the
jaded horse, which, snorting and all in a foam,
carried me swiftly along the rocky road.
The sun had already disappeared behind a black
cloud, which had been resting on the ridge of the
western mountains; the gorge grew dark and
damp. The Podkumok, forcing its way over the
rocks, roared with a hollow and monotonous
sound. I galloped on, choking with impatience.
The idea of not finding Vera in Pyatigorsk struck
my heart like a hammer. For one minute, again
to see her for one minute, to say farewell, to
press her hand. . . I prayed, cursed, wept,
laughed. . . No, nothing could express my
anxiety, my despair! . . . Now that it seemed
possible that I might be about to lose her for ever,
Vera became dearer to me than aught in the
world -- dearer than life, honour, happiness! God
knows what strange, what mad plans swarmed in
my head. . . Meanwhile I still galloped, urging
on my horse without pity. And, now, I began to
notice that he was breathing more heavily; he
had already stumbled once or twice on level
ground. . . I was five versts from Essentuki --
a Cossack village where I could change horses.
All would have been saved had my horse been
able to hold out for another ten minutes. But
suddenly, in lifting himself out of a little gulley
where the road emerges from the mountains at a
sharp turn, he fell to the ground. I jumped down
promptly, I tried to lift him up, I tugged at his
bridle -- in vain. A scarcely audible moan burst
through his clenched teeth; in a few moments
he expired. I was left on the steppe, alone; I
had lost my last hope. I endeavoured to walk --
my legs sank under me; exhausted by the
anxieties of the day and by sleeplessness, I fell
upon the wet grass and burst out crying like a
child.
For a long time I lay motionless and wept
bitterly, without attempting to restrain my tears
and sobs. I thought my breast would burst. All
my firmness, all my coolness, disappeared like
smoke; my soul grew powerless, my reason silent,
and, if anyone had seen me at that moment, he
would have turned aside with contempt.
When the night-dew and the mountain breeze
had cooled my burning brow, and my thoughts
had resumed their usual course, I realized that to
pursue my perished happiness would be unavail-
ing and unreasonable. What more did I want? --
To see her? -- Why? Was not all over between
us? A single, bitter, farewell kiss would not have
enriched my recollections, and, after it, parting
would only have been more difficult for us.
Still, I am pleased that I can weep. Perhaps,
however, the cause of that was my shattered
nerves, a night passed without sleep, two minutes
opposite the muzzle of a pistol, and an empty
stomach.
It is all for the best. That new suffering
created within me a fortunatediversion -- to speak
in military style. To weep is healthy, and then,
no doubt, if I had not ridden as I did and had
not been obliged to walk fifteen versts on my way
back, sleep would not have closed my eyes on that
night either.
I returned to Kislovodsk at five o'clock in the
morning, threw myself on my bed, and slept the
sleep of Napoleon after Waterloo.
By the time I awoke it was dark outside. I sat by
the open window, with my jacket unbuttoned --
and the mountain breeze cooled my breast, still
troubled by the heavy sleep of weariness. In
the distance beyond the river, through the tops
of the thick lime trees which overshadowed it,
lights were glancing in the fortress and the vil-
lage. Close at hand all was calm. It was dark in
Princess Ligovski's house.
The doctor entered; his brows were knit;
contrary to custom, he did not offer me his
hand.
"Where have you come from, doctor?"
"From Princess Ligovski's; her daughter is
ill -- nervousexhaustion. . . That is not the
point, though. This is what I have come to tell
you: the authorities are suspicious, and, although
it is impossible to prove anything positively, I
should, all the same, advise you to be cautious.
Princess Ligovski told me to-day that she knew
that you fought a duel on her daughter's account.
That little old man -- what's his name? -- has
told her everything. He was a witness of
your quarrel with Grushnitski in the restaurant.
I have come to warn you. Good-bye. Maybe
we shall not meet again: you will be banished
somewhere."
- contents [´kɔ:ntents]
n.容纳物；要旨 (初中英语单词) - bullet [´bulit] n.子弹 (初中英语单词)
- doubtless [´dautlis] ad.无疑地；大概，多半 (初中英语单词)
- writing [´raitiŋ] n.书写；写作；书法 (初中英语单词)
- endure [in´djuə] vt.忍耐，忍受；坚持 (初中英语单词)
- despise [di´spaiz] vt.轻视，藐视 (初中英语单词)
- unhappy [ʌn´hæpi] a.不幸的；不快乐的 (初中英语单词)
- appreciate [ə´pri:ʃieit] v.评价；珍惜；感激 (初中英语单词)
- mysterious [mi´stiəriəs] a.神秘的；难以理解的 (初中英语单词)
- whatever [wɔt´evə] pron.&a.无论什么 (初中英语单词)
- spoken [´spəukən] speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- constantly [´kɔnstəntli] ad.经常地；不断地 (初中英语单词)
- attractive [ə´træktiv] a.有吸引力；诱人的 (初中英语单词)
- convince [kən´vins] vt.使确信；使认识错误 (初中英语单词)
- countenance [´kauntinəns] n.面部表情；脸色；面容 (初中英语单词)
- dreadful [´dredful] a.可怕的；讨厌的 (初中英语单词)
- carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- gallop [´gæləp] n.&v.奔驰；急速行进 (初中英语单词)
- swiftly [´swiftli] ad.迅速地，敏捷地 (初中英语单词)
- hammer [´hæmə] n.锤子 v.重击 (初中英语单词)
- farewell [feə´wel] int.再见 n.&a.告别 (初中英语单词)
- meanwhile [´mi:n´wail] n.&ad.其间；同时 (初中英语单词)
- pistol [´pistl] n.手枪 vt.用手枪射击 (初中英语单词)
- fortunate [´fɔ:tʃənət] a.幸运的，侥幸的 (初中英语单词)
- healthy [´helθi] a.健康的 (初中英语单词)
- jacket [´dʒækit] n.茄克衫；外套 (初中英语单词)
- breeze [bri:z] n.微风；不费力的事 (初中英语单词)
- princess [,prin´ses] n.公主；王妃；亲王夫人 (初中英语单词)
- nervous [´nə:vəs] a.神经的；神经过敏的 (初中英语单词)
- advise [əd´vaiz] vt.忠告；建议；通知 (初中英语单词)
- witness [´witnis] n.见证人 vt.目击 (初中英语单词)
- bridle [´braidl] n.(马)笼头；束缚 (高中英语单词)
- painful [´peinfəl] a.痛(苦)的；费力的 (高中英语单词)
- assurance [ə´ʃuərəns] n.保证；自信；信任 (高中英语单词)
- confession [kən´feʃən] n.招供；认错；交待 (高中英语单词)
- tenderness [´tendənis] n.娇嫩；柔软；温柔 (高中英语单词)
- disdain [dis´dein] vt.&n.藐视，轻视 (高中英语单词)
- courtyard [´kɔ:tjɑ:d] n.院子，庭院 (高中英语单词)
- finding [´faindiŋ] n.发现物；判断；结果 (高中英语单词)
- motionless [´məuʃənləs] a.静止的；固定的 (高中英语单词)
- restrain [ri´strein] vt.抑制；管束；限制 (高中英语单词)
- napoleon [nə´pəuljən] n.拿破仑 (高中英语单词)
- fortress [´fɔ:tris] n.堡垒，要塞 (高中英语单词)
- suspicious [sə´spiʃəs] a.可疑的，多疑的 (高中英语单词)
- positively [´pɔzətivli] ad.确实；断然；绝对 (高中英语单词)
- ridden [´ridn] ride 的过去分词 (英语四级单词)
- parting [´pɑ:tiŋ] a.&n.分离(的) (英语四级单词)
- monotonous [mə´nɔtənəs] a.单(音)调的 (英语四级单词)
- intently [in´tentli] ad.专心地 (英语四级单词)
- audible [´ɔ:dibəl] a.听得见的 (英语四级单词)
- firmness [´fə:mnis] n.坚定；坚硬；稳定 (英语四级单词)
- unreasonable [ʌn´ri:zənəbl] a.不合理的；荒唐的 (英语四级单词)
- muzzle [´mʌzəl] n.枪口，炮口 (英语四级单词)
- diversion [dai´və:ʃən] n.转移；消遣 (英语四级单词)
- weariness [wiərinis] n.疲倦；厌烦 (英语四级单词)
- exhaustion [ig´zɔ:stʃən] n.用完；精疲力尽 (英语四级单词)
- unfamiliar [ʌnfə´miljə] a.不熟悉的；生疏的 (英语六级单词)
- madman [´mædmən] n.疯子；狂人 (英语六级单词)
- coolness [´ku:lnis] n.凉，凉爽；冷静 (英语六级单词)
- powerless [´pauələs] a.软弱的；无资源的 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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