章节正文
In an hour's time a chance of proceeding on
our journey presented itself. The snowstorm
subsided, the sky became clear, and we set off.
On the way I involuntarily let the conversation
turn on Bela and Pechorin.
"You have not heard what became of Kaz-
bich?" I asked.
"Kazbich? In truth, I don't know. I have
heard that with the Shapsugs, on our right flank,
there is a certain Kazbich, a dare-devil fellow
who rides about at a walking pace, in a red tunic,
under our bullets, and bows politely whenever
one hums near him -- but it can scarcely be the
same person!" . . .
In Kobi, Maksim Maksimych and I parted
company. I posted on, and he, on account of
his heavy luggage, was unable to follow me.
We had no expectation of ever meeting again,
but meet we did, and, if you like, I will tell you
how -- it is quite a history. . . You must
acknowledge, though, that Maksim Maksimych
is a man worthy of all respect. . . If you
admit that, I shall be fully rewarded for my,
perhaps, too lengthy story.
BOOK II MAKSIM MAKSIMYCH
AFTER parting with Maksim Maksimych, I
galloped briskly through the gorges of the
Terek and Darial, breakfasted in Kazbek, drank
tea in Lars, and arrived at Vladikavkaz in time
for supper. I spare you a description of the
mountains, as well as exclamations which convey
no meaning, and word-paintings which convey
no image -- especially to those who have never
been in the Caucasus. I also omit statistical
observations, which I am quite sure nobody
would read.
I put up at the inn which is frequented by all
who travel in those parts, and where, by the way,
there is no one you can order to roast your
pheasant and cook your cabbage-soup, because
the three veterans who have charge of the inn
are either so stupid, or so drunk, that it is
impossible to knock any sense at all out of
them.
I was informed that I should have to stay
there three days longer, because the "Adventure"
had not yet arrived from Ekaterinograd and
consequently could not start on the return
journey. What a misadventure![1] . . . But a
bad pun is no consolation to a Russian, and, for
the sake of something to occupy my thoughts,
I took it into my head to write down the story
about Bela, which I had heard from Maksim
Maksimych -- never imagining that it would be
the first link in a long chain of novels: you see
how an insignificant event has sometimes dire
results! . . . Perhaps, however, you do not
know what the "Adventure" is? It is a convoy
-- composed of half a company of infantry, with
a cannon -- which escorts baggage-trains through
Kabardia from Vladikavkaz to Ekaterinograd.
[1] In Russian -- okaziya=occasion, adventure, etc.; chto za
okaziya=how unfortunate!
The first day I found the time hang on my
hands dreadfully. Early next morning a vehicle
drove into the courtyard. . . Aha! Maksim
Maksimych! . . . We met like a couple of old
friends. I offered to share my own room with
him, and he accepted my hospitality without
standing upon ceremony; he even clapped me
on the shoulder and puckered up his mouth by
way of a smile -- a queer fellow, that! . . .
Maksim Maksimych was profoundly versed in
the culinary art. He roasted the pheasant
astonishingly well and basted it successfully with
cucumber sauce. I was obliged to acknowledge
that, but for him, I should have had to remain on
a dry-food diet. A bottle of Kakhetian wine
helped us to forget the modest number of dishes
-- of which there was one, all told. Then we lit
our pipes, took our chairs, and sat down -- I by
the window, and he by the stove, in which a fire
had been lighted because the day was damp and
cold. We remained silent. What had we to
talk about? He had already told me all that
was of interest about himself and I had nothing
to relate. I looked out of the window. Here
and there, behind the trees, I caught glimpses of
a number of poor, low houses straggling along
the bank of the Terek, which flowed seaward in
an ever-widening stream; farther off rose the
dark-blue, jagged wall of the mountains, behind
which Mount Kazbek gazed forth in his high-
priest's hat of white. I took a mental farewell
of them; I felt sorry to leave them. . .
Thus we sat for a considerable time. The sun
was sinking behind the cold summits and a
whitish mist was beginning to spread over the
valleys, when the silence was broken by the
jingling of the bell of a travelling-carriage and
the shouting of drivers in the street. A few
vehicles, accompanied by dirty Armenians, drove
into the courtyard of the inn, and behind them
came an empty travelling-carriage. Its light
movement, comfortable arrangement, and elegant
appearance gave it a kind of foreign stamp. Be-
hind it walked a man with large moustaches. He
was wearing a Hungarian jacket and was rather
well dressed for a manservant. From the bold
manner in which he shook the ashes out of his pipe
and shouted at the coachman it was impossible to
mistake his calling. He was obviously the spoiled
servant of an indolent master -- something in the
nature of a Russian Figaro.
"Tell me, my good man," I called to him out
of the window. "What is it? -- Has the 'Ad-
venture' arrived, eh?"
He gave me a rather insolent glance, straight-
ened his cravat, and turned away. An Armenian,
who was walking near him, smiled and answered
for him that the "Adventure" had, in fact,
arrived, and would start on the return journey
the following morning.
"Thank heavens!" said Maksim Maksimych,
who had come up to the window at that moment.
"What a wonderful carriage!" he added;
"probably it belongs to some official who is
going to Tiflis for a judicialinquiry. You can
see that he is unacquainted with our little
mountains! No, my friend, you're not serious!
They are not for the like of you; why, they
would shake even an English carriage to bits! --
But who could it be? Let us go and find
out."
We went out into the corridor, at the end of
which there was an open door leading into a
side room. The manservant and a driver were
dragging portmanteaux into the room.
"I say, my man!" the staff-captain asked him:
"Whose is that marvellous carriage? -- Eh? --
A beautiful carriage!"
Without turning round the manservant
growled something to himself as he undid a
portmanteau. Maksim Maksimych grew angry.
"I am speaking to you, my friend!"
he said, touching the uncivil fellow on the
shoulder.
"Whose carriage? -- My master's."
"And who is your master?"
"Pechorin --"
"What did you say? What? Pechorin? --
Great Heavens! . . . Did he not serve in the
Caucasus?" exclaimed Maksim Maksimych,
plucking me by the sleeve. His eyes were
sparkling with joy.
"Yes, he served there, I think -- but I have not
been with him long."
"Well! Just so! . . . Just so! . . . Grigori
Aleksandrovich? . . . that is his name, of
course? Your master and I were friends," he
added, giving the manservant a friendly clap on
the shoulder with such force as to cause him to
stagger.
"Excuse me, sir, you are hindering me," said
the latter, frowning.
"What a fellow you are, my friend! Why,
don't you know, your master and I were bosom
friends, and lived together? . . . But where has
he put up?"
The servant intimated that Pechorin had
stayed to take supper and pass the night at
Colonel N----'s.
"But won't he be looking in here in the
evening?" said Maksim Maksimych. "Or, you,
my man, won't you be going over to him for
something? . . . If you do, tell him that
Maksim Maksimych is here; just say that -- he'll
know! -- I'll give you half a ruble for a tip!"
The manservant made a scornful face on
hearing such a modest promise, but he assured
Maksim Maksimych that he would execute his
commission.
"He'll be sure to come running up directly!"
said Maksim Maksimych, with an air of triumph.
"I will go outside the gate and wait for him!
Ah, it's a pity I am not acquainted with
Colonel N----!"
Maksim Maksimych sat down on a little bench
outside the gate, and I went to my room. I
confess that I also was awaiting this Pechorin's
appearance with a certain amount of impatience
-- although, from the staff-captain's story, I had
formed a by no means favourable idea of him.
Still, certain traits in his character struck me as
remarkable. In an hour's time one of the
old soldiers brought a steaming samovar and a
teapot.
"Won't you have some tea, Maksim Mak-
simych?" I called out of the window.
"Thank you. I am not thirsty, somehow."
"Oh, do have some! It is late, you know,
our journey presented itself. The snowstorm
subsided, the sky became clear, and we set off.
On the way I involuntarily let the conversation
turn on Bela and Pechorin.
"You have not heard what became of Kaz-
bich?" I asked.
"Kazbich? In truth, I don't know. I have
heard that with the Shapsugs, on our right flank,
there is a certain Kazbich, a dare-devil fellow
who rides about at a walking pace, in a red tunic,
under our bullets, and bows politely whenever
one hums near him -- but it can scarcely be the
same person!" . . .
In Kobi, Maksim Maksimych and I parted
company. I posted on, and he, on account of
his heavy luggage, was unable to follow me.
We had no expectation of ever meeting again,
but meet we did, and, if you like, I will tell you
how -- it is quite a history. . . You must
acknowledge, though, that Maksim Maksimych
is a man worthy of all respect. . . If you
admit that, I shall be fully rewarded for my,
perhaps, too lengthy story.
BOOK II MAKSIM MAKSIMYCH
AFTER parting with Maksim Maksimych, I
galloped briskly through the gorges of the
Terek and Darial, breakfasted in Kazbek, drank
tea in Lars, and arrived at Vladikavkaz in time
for supper. I spare you a description of the
mountains, as well as exclamations which convey
no meaning, and word-paintings which convey
no image -- especially to those who have never
been in the Caucasus. I also omit statistical
observations, which I am quite sure nobody
would read.
I put up at the inn which is frequented by all
who travel in those parts, and where, by the way,
there is no one you can order to roast your
pheasant and cook your cabbage-soup, because
the three veterans who have charge of the inn
are either so stupid, or so drunk, that it is
impossible to knock any sense at all out of
them.
I was informed that I should have to stay
there three days longer, because the "Adventure"
had not yet arrived from Ekaterinograd and
consequently could not start on the return
journey. What a misadventure![1] . . . But a
bad pun is no consolation to a Russian, and, for
the sake of something to occupy my thoughts,
I took it into my head to write down the story
about Bela, which I had heard from Maksim
Maksimych -- never imagining that it would be
the first link in a long chain of novels: you see
how an insignificant event has sometimes dire
results! . . . Perhaps, however, you do not
know what the "Adventure" is? It is a convoy
-- composed of half a company of infantry, with
a cannon -- which escorts baggage-trains through
Kabardia from Vladikavkaz to Ekaterinograd.
[1] In Russian -- okaziya=occasion, adventure, etc.; chto za
okaziya=how unfortunate!
The first day I found the time hang on my
hands dreadfully. Early next morning a vehicle
drove into the courtyard. . . Aha! Maksim
Maksimych! . . . We met like a couple of old
friends. I offered to share my own room with
him, and he accepted my hospitality without
standing upon ceremony; he even clapped me
on the shoulder and puckered up his mouth by
way of a smile -- a queer fellow, that! . . .
Maksim Maksimych was profoundly versed in
the culinary art. He roasted the pheasant
astonishingly well and basted it successfully with
cucumber sauce. I was obliged to acknowledge
that, but for him, I should have had to remain on
a dry-food diet. A bottle of Kakhetian wine
helped us to forget the modest number of dishes
-- of which there was one, all told. Then we lit
our pipes, took our chairs, and sat down -- I by
the window, and he by the stove, in which a fire
had been lighted because the day was damp and
cold. We remained silent. What had we to
talk about? He had already told me all that
was of interest about himself and I had nothing
to relate. I looked out of the window. Here
and there, behind the trees, I caught glimpses of
a number of poor, low houses straggling along
the bank of the Terek, which flowed seaward in
an ever-widening stream; farther off rose the
dark-blue, jagged wall of the mountains, behind
which Mount Kazbek gazed forth in his high-
priest's hat of white. I took a mental farewell
of them; I felt sorry to leave them. . .
Thus we sat for a considerable time. The sun
was sinking behind the cold summits and a
whitish mist was beginning to spread over the
valleys, when the silence was broken by the
jingling of the bell of a travelling-carriage and
the shouting of drivers in the street. A few
vehicles, accompanied by dirty Armenians, drove
into the courtyard of the inn, and behind them
came an empty travelling-carriage. Its light
movement, comfortable arrangement, and elegant
appearance gave it a kind of foreign stamp. Be-
hind it walked a man with large moustaches. He
was wearing a Hungarian jacket and was rather
well dressed for a manservant. From the bold
manner in which he shook the ashes out of his pipe
and shouted at the coachman it was impossible to
mistake his calling. He was obviously the spoiled
servant of an indolent master -- something in the
nature of a Russian Figaro.
"Tell me, my good man," I called to him out
of the window. "What is it? -- Has the 'Ad-
venture' arrived, eh?"
He gave me a rather insolent glance, straight-
ened his cravat, and turned away. An Armenian,
who was walking near him, smiled and answered
for him that the "Adventure" had, in fact,
arrived, and would start on the return journey
the following morning.
"Thank heavens!" said Maksim Maksimych,
who had come up to the window at that moment.
"What a wonderful carriage!" he added;
"probably it belongs to some official who is
going to Tiflis for a judicialinquiry. You can
see that he is unacquainted with our little
mountains! No, my friend, you're not serious!
They are not for the like of you; why, they
would shake even an English carriage to bits! --
But who could it be? Let us go and find
out."
We went out into the corridor, at the end of
which there was an open door leading into a
side room. The manservant and a driver were
dragging portmanteaux into the room.
"I say, my man!" the staff-captain asked him:
"Whose is that marvellous carriage? -- Eh? --
A beautiful carriage!"
Without turning round the manservant
growled something to himself as he undid a
portmanteau. Maksim Maksimych grew angry.
"I am speaking to you, my friend!"
he said, touching the uncivil fellow on the
shoulder.
"Whose carriage? -- My master's."
"And who is your master?"
"Pechorin --"
"What did you say? What? Pechorin? --
Great Heavens! . . . Did he not serve in the
Caucasus?" exclaimed Maksim Maksimych,
plucking me by the sleeve. His eyes were
sparkling with joy.
"Yes, he served there, I think -- but I have not
been with him long."
"Well! Just so! . . . Just so! . . . Grigori
Aleksandrovich? . . . that is his name, of
course? Your master and I were friends," he
added, giving the manservant a friendly clap on
the shoulder with such force as to cause him to
stagger.
"Excuse me, sir, you are hindering me," said
the latter, frowning.
"What a fellow you are, my friend! Why,
don't you know, your master and I were bosom
friends, and lived together? . . . But where has
he put up?"
The servant intimated that Pechorin had
stayed to take supper and pass the night at
Colonel N----'s.
"But won't he be looking in here in the
evening?" said Maksim Maksimych. "Or, you,
my man, won't you be going over to him for
something? . . . If you do, tell him that
Maksim Maksimych is here; just say that -- he'll
know! -- I'll give you half a ruble for a tip!"
The manservant made a scornful face on
hearing such a modest promise, but he assured
Maksim Maksimych that he would execute his
commission.
"He'll be sure to come running up directly!"
said Maksim Maksimych, with an air of triumph.
"I will go outside the gate and wait for him!
Ah, it's a pity I am not acquainted with
Colonel N----!"
Maksim Maksimych sat down on a little bench
outside the gate, and I went to my room. I
confess that I also was awaiting this Pechorin's
appearance with a certain amount of impatience
-- although, from the staff-captain's story, I had
formed a by no means favourable idea of him.
Still, certain traits in his character struck me as
remarkable. In an hour's time one of the
old soldiers brought a steaming samovar and a
teapot.
"Won't you have some tea, Maksim Mak-
simych?" I called out of the window.
"Thank you. I am not thirsty, somehow."
"Oh, do have some! It is late, you know,
- account [ə´kaunt]
vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词) - unable [ʌn´eibəl] a.不能的；无能为力的 (初中英语单词)
- worthy [´wə:ði] a.有价值的；值得的 (初中英语单词)
- description [di´skripʃən] n.描写 (初中英语单词)
- charge [tʃɑ:dʒ] v.收费；冲锋 n.费用 (初中英语单词)
- stupid [´stju:pid] a.愚蠢的；糊涂的 (初中英语单词)
- cannon [´kænən] n.大炮 (初中英语单词)
- dreadfully [dredfuli] ad.可怕地；糟透地 (初中英语单词)
- ceremony [´seriməni] n.典礼；礼仪；客气 (初中英语单词)
- modest [´mɔdist] a.谦虚的；朴素的 (初中英语单词)
- relate [ri´leit] v.阐明；使联系；涉及 (初中英语单词)
- stream [stri:m] n.河 vi.流出；飘扬 (初中英语单词)
- mental [´mentl] a.精神的；心理的 (初中英语单词)
- considerable [kən´sidərəbəl] a.重要的；值得重视 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- arrangement [ə´reindʒmənt] n.整理；排列；筹备 (初中英语单词)
- jacket [´dʒækit] n.茄克衫；外套 (初中英语单词)
- obviously [´ɔbviəsli] ad.明显地；显而易见地 (初中英语单词)
- inquiry [in´kwaiəri] n.询问；质询；调查 (初中英语单词)
- carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- sleeve [sli:v] n.袖子；袖套 (初中英语单词)
- execute [´eksikju:t] vt.执行；表演；演奏 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- amount [ə´maunt] n.总数；数量 v.合计 (初中英语单词)
- character [´kæriktə] n.特性；性质；人物；字 (初中英语单词)
- proceeding [prə´si:diŋ] n.程序；进程；行动 (高中英语单词)
- politely [pə´laitli] ad.温和地；文雅地 (高中英语单词)
- luggage [´lʌgidʒ] n.行李；皮箱 (高中英语单词)
- expectation [,ekspek´teiʃən] n.期待(望)；预期 (高中英语单词)
- infantry [´infəntri] n.步兵(部队) (高中英语单词)
- courtyard [´kɔ:tjɑ:d] n.院子，庭院 (高中英语单词)
- hospitality [,hɔspi´tæliti] n.好客，殷勤 (高中英语单词)
- successfully [sək´sesfəli] ad.成功地 (高中英语单词)
- corridor [´kɔridɔ:] n.走廊；指定航路 (高中英语单词)
- parting [´pɑ:tiŋ] a.&n.分离(的) (英语四级单词)
- briskly [´briskli] ad.轻快地；活泼地 (英语四级单词)
- consolation [,kɔnsə´leiʃən] n.安慰，慰问 (英语四级单词)
- insignificant [,insig´nifikənt] a.无意义的；无价值的 (英语四级单词)
- composed [kəm´pəuzd] a.镇静自若的 (英语四级单词)
- profoundly [prə´faundli] ad.深深地 (英语四级单词)
- coachman [´kəutʃmən] n.赶马车人 (英语四级单词)
- judicial [dʒu:´diʃəl] a.法庭(官)的，审判的 (英语四级单词)
- touching [´tʌtʃiŋ] a.动人的 prep.提到 (英语四级单词)
- involuntarily [in´vɔləntərili] ad.不 自觉地 (英语六级单词)
- seaward [´si:wəd] a.&ad.朝海(的) (英语六级单词)
- calling [´kɔ:liŋ] n.点名；职业；欲望 (英语六级单词)
- insolent [´insələnt] a.傲慢的；无礼的 (英语六级单词)
- cravat [krə´væt] n.领带；围巾 (英语六级单词)
- speaking [´spi:kiŋ] n.说话 a.发言的 (英语六级单词)
- scornful [´skɔ:nful] a.轻蔑的，藐视的 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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