章节正文
learned the intention of these gentlemen to make
a fool of me by causing me to fight a duel with
blank cartridges. But, now, the affair had gone
beyond the bounds of jest; they probably had
not expected that it would turn out like this.
The doctor consented to be my second; I gave
him a few directions with regard to the condi-
tions of the duel. He was to insist upon the
affair being managed with all possible secrecy, be-
cause, although I am prepared, at any moment,
to face death, I am not in the least disposed to
spoil for all time my future in this world.
After that I went home. In an hour's time the
doctor returned from his expedition.
"There is indeed a conspiracy against you," he
said. "I found the captain of dragoons at Grush-
nitski's, together with another gentleman whose
surname I do not remember. I stopped a moment
in the ante-room, in order to take off my goloshes.
They were squabbling and making a terrible up-
roar. 'On no account will I agree,' Grushnitski
was saying: 'he has insulted me publicly; it was
quite a different thing before' . . .
"'What does it matter to you?' answered the
captain. 'I will take it all upon myself. I have
been second in five duels, and I should think I
know how to arrange the affair. I have thought
it all out. Just let me alone, please. It is not a
bad thing to give people a bit of a fright. And
why expose yourself to danger if it is possible to
avoid it?' . . .
"At that moment I entered the room. They
suddenly fell silent. Our negotiations were some-
what protracted. At length we decided the
matter as follows: about five versts from here
there is a hollow gorge; they will ride thither to-
morrow at four o'clock in the morning, and we
shall leave half an hour later. You will fire at six
paces -- Grushnitski himself demanded that con-
dition. Whichever of you is killed -- his death
will be put down to the account of the Circas-
sians. And now I must tell you what I suspect:
they, that is to say the seconds, may have made
some change in their former plan and may want
to load only Grushnitski's pistol. That is some-
thing like murder, but in time of war, and espe-
cially in Asiatic warfare, such tricks are allowed.
Grushnitski, however, seems to be a little more
magnanimous than his companions. What do you
think? Ought we not to let them see that we
have guessed their plan?"
"Not on any account, doctor! Make your
mind easy; I will not give in to them."
"But what are you going to do, then?"
"That is my secret."
"Mind you are not caught . . . six paces, you
know!"
"Doctor, I shall expect you to-morrow at four
o'clock. The horses will be ready . . . Good-
bye."
I remained in the house until the evening, with
my door locked. A manservant came to invite me
to Princess Ligovski's -- I bade him say that I
was ill.
. . . . .
Two o'clock in the morning. . . I cannot
sleep. . . Yet sleep is what I need, if I am to
have a steady hand to-morrow. However, at six
paces it is difficult to miss. Aha! Mr. Grushnit-
ski, your wiles will not succeed! . . . We shall
exchange roles: now it is I who shall have to
seek the signs of latentterror upon your pallid
countenance. Why have you yourself appointed
these fatal six paces? Think you that I will
tamely expose my forehead to your aim? . . .
No, we shall cast lots. . . And then -- then --
what if his luck should prevail? If my star at
length should betray me? . . . And little wonder
if it did: it has so long and faithfully served
my caprices.
Well? If I must die, I must! The loss to the
world will not be great; and I myself am already
downright weary of everything. I am like a guest
at a ball, who yawns but does not go home to bed,
simply because his carriage has not come for him.
But now the carriage is here. . . Good-bye! . . .
My whole past life I live again in memory, and,
involuntarily, I ask myself: 'why have I lived --
for what purpose was I born?' . . . A purpose
there must have been, and, surely, mine was an
exalted destiny, because I feel that within my
soul are powers immeasurable. . . But I was
not able to discover that destiny, I allowed myself
to be carried away by the allurements of passions,
inane and ignoble. From their crucible I issued
hard and cold as iron, but gone for ever was the
glow of noble aspirations -- the fairest flower of
life. And, from that time forth, how often have
I not played the part of an axe in the hands of
fate! Like an implement of punishment, I have
fallen upon the head of doomed victims, often
without malice, always without pity. . . To none
has my love brought happiness, because I have
never sacrificed anything for the sake of those
I have loved: for myself alone I have loved --
for my own pleasure. I have only satisfied the
strange craving of my heart, greedily draining
their feelings, their tenderness, their joys, their
sufferings -- and I have never been able to sate
myself. I am like one who, spent with hunger,
falls asleep in exhaustion and sees before him
sumptuous viands and sparkling wines; he de-
vours with rapture the aerial gifts of the imagina-
tion, and his pains seem somewhat assuaged. Let
him but awake: the vision vanishes -- twofold
hunger and despair remain!
And to-morrow, it may be, I shall die! . . .
And there will not be left on earth one being who
has understood me completely. Some will con-
sider me worse, others, better, than I have been
in reality. . . Some will say: 'he was a good
fellow'; others: 'a villain.' And both epithets
will be false. After all this, is life worth the
trouble? And yet we live -- out of curiosity!
We expect something new. . . How absurd,
and yet how vexatious!
CHAPTER XIX
IT is now a month and a half since I have
been in the N---- Fortress.
Maksim Maksimych is out hunting. . . I am
alone. I am sitting by the window. Grey clouds
have covered the mountains to the foot; the sun
appears through the mist as a yellow spot. It
is cold; the wind is whistling and rocking the
shutters. . . I am bored! . . . I will continue
my diary which has been interrupted by so many
strange events.
I read the last page over: how ridiculous it
seems! . . . I thought to die; it was not to be.
I have not yet drained the cup of suffering, and
now I feel that I still have long to live.
How clearly and how sharply have all these
bygone events been stamped upon my memory!
Time has not effaced a single line, a single
shade.
I remember that during the night preceding
the duel I did not sleep a single moment. I was
not able to write for long: a secret uneasiness
took possession of me. For about an hour I paced
the room, then I sat down and opened a novel by
Walter Scott which was lying on my table. It
was "The Scottish Puritans."[1] At first I read
with an effort; then, carried away by the
magical fiction, I became oblivious of every-
thing else.
[1] None of the Waverley novels, of course, bears this title.
The novel referred to is doubtless "Old Mortality," on which
Bellini's opera, "I Puritani di Scozia," is founded.
At last day broke. My nerves became com-
posed. I looked in the glass: a dull pallor covered
my face, which preserved the traces of harassing
sleeplessness; but my eyes, although encircled
by a brownish shadow, glittered proudly and
inexorably. I was satisfied with myself.
I ordered the horses to be saddled, dressed my-
self, and ran down to the baths. Plunging into
the cold, sparkling water of the Narzan Spring, I
felt my bodily and mental powers returning. I
left the baths as fresh and hearty as if I was off
to a ball. After that, who shall say that the
soul is not dependent upon the body! . . .
On my return, I found the doctor at my rooms.
He was wearing grey riding-breeches, a jacket
and a Circassian cap. I burst out laughing when
I saw that little figure under the enormous shaggy
cap. Werner has a by no means warlike counte-
nance, and on that occasion it was even longer
than usual.
"Why so sad, doctor?" I said to him. "Have
you not a hundred times, with the greatest
indifference, escorted people to the other world?
Imagine that I have a bilious fever: I may get
well; also, I may die; both are in the usual
course of things. Try to look on me as a patient,
afflicted with an illness with which you are still
unfamiliar -- and then your curiosity will be
aroused in the highest degree. You can now make
a few important physiological observations upon
me. . . Is not the expectation of a violent death
itself a real illness?"
The doctor was struck by that idea, and he
brightened up.
We mounted our horses. Werner clung on to
his bridle with both hands, and we set off. In a
trice we had galloped past the fortress, through
the village, and had ridden into the gorge. Our
winding road was half-overgrown with tall grass
and was intersected every moment by a noisy
brook, which we had to ford, to the great despair
of the doctor, because each time his horse would
stop in the water.
a fool of me by causing me to fight a duel with
blank cartridges. But, now, the affair had gone
beyond the bounds of jest; they probably had
not expected that it would turn out like this.
The doctor consented to be my second; I gave
him a few directions with regard to the condi-
tions of the duel. He was to insist upon the
affair being managed with all possible secrecy, be-
cause, although I am prepared, at any moment,
to face death, I am not in the least disposed to
spoil for all time my future in this world.
After that I went home. In an hour's time the
doctor returned from his expedition.
"There is indeed a conspiracy against you," he
said. "I found the captain of dragoons at Grush-
nitski's, together with another gentleman whose
surname I do not remember. I stopped a moment
in the ante-room, in order to take off my goloshes.
They were squabbling and making a terrible up-
roar. 'On no account will I agree,' Grushnitski
was saying: 'he has insulted me publicly; it was
quite a different thing before' . . .
"'What does it matter to you?' answered the
captain. 'I will take it all upon myself. I have
been second in five duels, and I should think I
know how to arrange the affair. I have thought
it all out. Just let me alone, please. It is not a
bad thing to give people a bit of a fright. And
why expose yourself to danger if it is possible to
avoid it?' . . .
"At that moment I entered the room. They
suddenly fell silent. Our negotiations were some-
what protracted. At length we decided the
matter as follows: about five versts from here
there is a hollow gorge; they will ride thither to-
morrow at four o'clock in the morning, and we
shall leave half an hour later. You will fire at six
paces -- Grushnitski himself demanded that con-
dition. Whichever of you is killed -- his death
will be put down to the account of the Circas-
sians. And now I must tell you what I suspect:
they, that is to say the seconds, may have made
some change in their former plan and may want
to load only Grushnitski's pistol. That is some-
thing like murder, but in time of war, and espe-
cially in Asiatic warfare, such tricks are allowed.
Grushnitski, however, seems to be a little more
magnanimous than his companions. What do you
think? Ought we not to let them see that we
have guessed their plan?"
"Not on any account, doctor! Make your
mind easy; I will not give in to them."
"But what are you going to do, then?"
"That is my secret."
"Mind you are not caught . . . six paces, you
know!"
"Doctor, I shall expect you to-morrow at four
o'clock. The horses will be ready . . . Good-
bye."
I remained in the house until the evening, with
my door locked. A manservant came to invite me
to Princess Ligovski's -- I bade him say that I
was ill.
. . . . .
Two o'clock in the morning. . . I cannot
sleep. . . Yet sleep is what I need, if I am to
have a steady hand to-morrow. However, at six
paces it is difficult to miss. Aha! Mr. Grushnit-
ski, your wiles will not succeed! . . . We shall
exchange roles: now it is I who shall have to
seek the signs of latentterror upon your pallid
countenance. Why have you yourself appointed
these fatal six paces? Think you that I will
tamely expose my forehead to your aim? . . .
No, we shall cast lots. . . And then -- then --
what if his luck should prevail? If my star at
length should betray me? . . . And little wonder
if it did: it has so long and faithfully served
my caprices.
Well? If I must die, I must! The loss to the
world will not be great; and I myself am already
downright weary of everything. I am like a guest
at a ball, who yawns but does not go home to bed,
simply because his carriage has not come for him.
But now the carriage is here. . . Good-bye! . . .
My whole past life I live again in memory, and,
involuntarily, I ask myself: 'why have I lived --
for what purpose was I born?' . . . A purpose
there must have been, and, surely, mine was an
exalted destiny, because I feel that within my
soul are powers immeasurable. . . But I was
not able to discover that destiny, I allowed myself
to be carried away by the allurements of passions,
inane and ignoble. From their crucible I issued
hard and cold as iron, but gone for ever was the
glow of noble aspirations -- the fairest flower of
life. And, from that time forth, how often have
I not played the part of an axe in the hands of
fate! Like an implement of punishment, I have
fallen upon the head of doomed victims, often
without malice, always without pity. . . To none
has my love brought happiness, because I have
never sacrificed anything for the sake of those
I have loved: for myself alone I have loved --
for my own pleasure. I have only satisfied the
strange craving of my heart, greedily draining
their feelings, their tenderness, their joys, their
sufferings -- and I have never been able to sate
myself. I am like one who, spent with hunger,
falls asleep in exhaustion and sees before him
sumptuous viands and sparkling wines; he de-
vours with rapture the aerial gifts of the imagina-
tion, and his pains seem somewhat assuaged. Let
him but awake: the vision vanishes -- twofold
hunger and despair remain!
And to-morrow, it may be, I shall die! . . .
And there will not be left on earth one being who
has understood me completely. Some will con-
sider me worse, others, better, than I have been
in reality. . . Some will say: 'he was a good
fellow'; others: 'a villain.' And both epithets
will be false. After all this, is life worth the
trouble? And yet we live -- out of curiosity!
We expect something new. . . How absurd,
and yet how vexatious!
CHAPTER XIX
IT is now a month and a half since I have
been in the N---- Fortress.
Maksim Maksimych is out hunting. . . I am
alone. I am sitting by the window. Grey clouds
have covered the mountains to the foot; the sun
appears through the mist as a yellow spot. It
is cold; the wind is whistling and rocking the
shutters. . . I am bored! . . . I will continue
my diary which has been interrupted by so many
strange events.
I read the last page over: how ridiculous it
seems! . . . I thought to die; it was not to be.
I have not yet drained the cup of suffering, and
now I feel that I still have long to live.
How clearly and how sharply have all these
bygone events been stamped upon my memory!
Time has not effaced a single line, a single
shade.
I remember that during the night preceding
the duel I did not sleep a single moment. I was
not able to write for long: a secret uneasiness
took possession of me. For about an hour I paced
the room, then I sat down and opened a novel by
Walter Scott which was lying on my table. It
was "The Scottish Puritans."[1] At first I read
with an effort; then, carried away by the
magical fiction, I became oblivious of every-
thing else.
[1] None of the Waverley novels, of course, bears this title.
The novel referred to is doubtless "Old Mortality," on which
Bellini's opera, "I Puritani di Scozia," is founded.
At last day broke. My nerves became com-
posed. I looked in the glass: a dull pallor covered
my face, which preserved the traces of harassing
sleeplessness; but my eyes, although encircled
by a brownish shadow, glittered proudly and
inexorably. I was satisfied with myself.
I ordered the horses to be saddled, dressed my-
self, and ran down to the baths. Plunging into
the cold, sparkling water of the Narzan Spring, I
felt my bodily and mental powers returning. I
left the baths as fresh and hearty as if I was off
to a ball. After that, who shall say that the
soul is not dependent upon the body! . . .
On my return, I found the doctor at my rooms.
He was wearing grey riding-breeches, a jacket
and a Circassian cap. I burst out laughing when
I saw that little figure under the enormous shaggy
cap. Werner has a by no means warlike counte-
nance, and on that occasion it was even longer
than usual.
"Why so sad, doctor?" I said to him. "Have
you not a hundred times, with the greatest
indifference, escorted people to the other world?
Imagine that I have a bilious fever: I may get
well; also, I may die; both are in the usual
course of things. Try to look on me as a patient,
afflicted with an illness with which you are still
unfamiliar -- and then your curiosity will be
aroused in the highest degree. You can now make
a few important physiological observations upon
me. . . Is not the expectation of a violent death
itself a real illness?"
The doctor was struck by that idea, and he
brightened up.
We mounted our horses. Werner clung on to
his bridle with both hands, and we set off. In a
trice we had galloped past the fortress, through
the village, and had ridden into the gorge. Our
winding road was half-overgrown with tall grass
and was intersected every moment by a noisy
brook, which we had to ford, to the great despair
of the doctor, because each time his horse would
stop in the water.
- intention [in´tenʃən]
n.意图；打算；意义 (初中英语单词) - account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- fright [frait] n.惊吓；恐怖；怪人 (初中英语单词)
- expose [ik´spəuz] vt.揭露，暴露；陈列 (初中英语单词)
- thither [´ðiðə] ad.到那里 a.那边的 (初中英语单词)
- pistol [´pistl] n.手枪 vt.用手枪射击 (初中英语单词)
- princess [,prin´ses] n.公主；王妃；亲王夫人 (初中英语单词)
- terror [´terə] n.恐怖；惊骇 (初中英语单词)
- forehead [´fɔrid] n.额，前部 (初中英语单词)
- prevail [pri´veil] vi.胜(过)；流行；普遍 (初中英语单词)
- betray [bi´trei] vt.背叛；辜负；暴露 (初中英语单词)
- carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- punishment [´pʌniʃmənt] n.罚，刑罚 (初中英语单词)
- greedily [´gri:dili] ad.贪婪地 (初中英语单词)
- vision [´viʒən] n.视觉；想象力；幻影 (初中英语单词)
- despair [di´speə] vi.&n.绝望 (初中英语单词)
- reality [ri´æliti] n.现实(性)；真实；逼真 (初中英语单词)
- suffering [´sʌfəriŋ] n.痛苦；灾害 (初中英语单词)
- sharply [´ʃɑ:pli] ad.锋利地；剧烈地 (初中英语单词)
- doubtless [´dautlis] ad.无疑地；大概，多半 (初中英语单词)
- proudly [´praudli] ad.骄傲地；傲慢地 (初中英语单词)
- mental [´mentl] a.精神的；心理的 (初中英语单词)
- enormous [i´nɔ:məs] a.巨大地，很，极 (初中英语单词)
- illness [´ilnis] n.生病，不健康，疾病 (初中英语单词)
- curiosity [,kjuəri´ɔsiti] n.好奇；奇事；珍品 (初中英语单词)
- violent [´vaiələnt] a.强暴的；猛烈的 (初中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- conspiracy [kən´spirəsi] n.密谋；协同作用 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- warfare [´wɔ:feə] n.战争；斗争；竞争 (高中英语单词)
- faithfully [´feiθfəli] ad.忠实地；诚恳地 (高中英语单词)
- destiny [´destini] n.命运 (高中英语单词)
- implement [´implimənt] n.工具 vt.执行 (高中英语单词)
- malice [´mælis] n.恶意；怨恨；预谋 (高中英语单词)
- tenderness [´tendənis] n.娇嫩；柔软；温柔 (高中英语单词)
- rapture [´ræptʃə] n.着迷；全神贯注 (高中英语单词)
- ridiculous [ri´dikjuləs] a.荒谬的；可笑的 (高中英语单词)
- fiction [´fikʃən] n.小说；虚构；谎言 (高中英语单词)
- hearty [´hɑ:ti] a.热忱的；强健的 (高中英语单词)
- dependent [di´pendənt] a.依赖的；从属的 (高中英语单词)
- expectation [,ekspek´teiʃən] n.期待(望)；预期 (高中英语单词)
- bridle [´braidl] n.(马)笼头；束缚 (高中英语单词)
- fortress [´fɔ:tris] n.堡垒，要塞 (高中英语单词)
- secrecy [´si:krəsi] n.保密；秘密 (英语四级单词)
- asiatic [,eiʃi´ætik ,eizi´ætik] a.亚洲(人)的 n.亚洲人 (英语四级单词)
- exhaustion [ig´zɔ:stʃən] n.用完；精疲力尽 (英语四级单词)
- aerial [´eəriəl] a.空中的 n.天线 (英语四级单词)
- scottish [´skɔtiʃ, ´skɑtiʃ] a.&n.苏格兰人(的) (英语四级单词)
- bodily [´bɔdili] a.身体的 ad.亲自 (英语四级单词)
- warlike [´wɔ:laik] a.战争的；好战的 (英语四级单词)
- ridden [´ridn] ride 的过去分词 (英语四级单词)
- publicly [´pʌblikli] ad.公然；公众所有地 (英语六级单词)
- whichever [witʃ´evə] a.&pron.无论哪个(些) (英语六级单词)
- latent [´leitənt] a.潜在的，潜伏的 (英语六级单词)
- ignoble [ig´nəubəl] a.卑鄙的，无耻的 (英语六级单词)
- craving [´kreiviŋ] n.渴望，热望 (英语六级单词)
- hunting [´hʌntiŋ] n.打猎 (英语六级单词)
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