the wife and other stories-第25节
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
sed to her frequent visits when she was a little girl； her presence does not prevent me from concentrating my attention。 From time to time I mechanically ask her some question； she gives very brief replies； or； to rest for a minute； I turn round and watch her as she looks dreamily at some medical journal or review。 And at such moments I notice that her face has lost the old look of confiding trustfulness。 Her expression now is cold； apathetic； and absent…minded； like that of passengers who had to wait too long for a train。 She is dressed； as in old days； simply and beautifully； but carelessly； her dress and her hair show visible traces of the sofas and rocking…chairs in which she spends whole days at a stretch。 And she has lost the curiosity she had in old days。 She has ceased to ask me questions now； as though she had experienced everything in life and looked for nothing new from it。
Towards four o'clock there begins to be sounds of movement in the hall and in the drawing…room。 Liza has come back from the Conservatoire； and has brought some girl…friends in with her。 We hear them playing on the piano； trying their voices and laughing； in the dining…room Yegor is laying th e table； with the clatter of crockery。
〃Good…bye；〃 said Katya。 〃I won't go in and see your people today。 They must excuse me。 I haven't time。 Come and see me。〃
While I am seeing her to the door； she looks me up and down grimly； and says with vexation：
〃You are getting thinner and thinner！ Why don't you consult a doctor？ I'll call at Sergey Fyodorovitch's and ask him to have a look at you。〃
〃There's no need； Katya。〃
〃I can't think where your people's eyes are！ They are a nice lot； I must say！〃
She puts on her fur coat abruptly； and as she does so two or three hairpins drop unnoticed on the floor from her carelessly arranged hair。 She is too lazy and in too great a hurry to do her hair up； she carelessly stuffs the falling curls under her hat； and goes away。
When I go into the dining…room my wife asks me：
〃Was Katya with you just now？ Why didn't she come in to see us？ It's really strange 。 。 。 。〃
〃Mamma；〃 Liza says to her reproachfully； 〃let her alone； if she doesn't want to。 We are not going down on our knees to her。〃
〃It's very neglectful； anyway。 To sit for three hours in the study without remembering our existence！ But of course she must do as she likes。〃
Varya and Liza both hate Katya。 This hatred is beyond my comprehension； and probably one would have to be a woman in order to understand it。 I am ready to stake my life that of the hundred and fifty young men I see every day in the lecture…theatre； and of the hundred elderly ones I meet every week； hardly one could be found capable of understanding their hatred and aversion for Katya's past that is； for her having been a mother without being a wife； and for her having had an illegitimate child； and at the same time I cannot recall one woman or girl of my acquaintance who would not consciously or unconsciously harbour such feelings。 And this is not because woman is purer or more virtuous than man： why； virtue and purity are not very different from vice if they are not free from evil feeling。 I attribute this simply to the backwardness of woman。 The mournful feeling of compassion and the pang of conscience experienced by a modern man at the sight of suffering is； to my mind； far greater proof of culture and moral elevation than hatred and aversion。 Woman is as tearful and as coarse in her feelings now as she was in the Middle Ages； and to my thinking those who advise that she should be educated like a man are quite right。
My wife also dislikes Katya for having been an actress； for ingratitude； for pride； for eccentricity； and for the numerous vices which one woman can always find in another。
Besides my wife and daughter and me； there are dining with us two or three of my daughter's friends and Alexandr Adolfovitch Gnekker； her admirer and suitor。 He is a fair…haired young man under thirty； of medium height； very stout and broad…shouldered； with red whiskers near his ears； and little waxed moustaches which make his plump smooth face look like a toy。 He is dressed in a very short reefer jacket； a flowered waistcoat； breeches very full at the top and very narrow at the ankle； with a large check pattern on them； and yellow boots without heels。 He has prominent eyes like a crab's； his cravat is like a crab's neck； and I even fancy there is a smell of crab…soup about the young man's whole person。 He visits us every day； but no one in my family knows anything of his origin nor of the place of his education； nor of his means of livelihood。 He neither plays nor sings； but has some connection with music and singing； sells somebody's pianos somewhere； is frequently at the Conservatoire； is acquainted with all the celebrities； and is a steward at the concerts； he criticizes music with great authority； and I have noticed that people are eager to agree with him。
Rich people always have dependents hanging about them； the arts and sciences have the same。 I believe there is not an art nor a science in the world free from 〃foreign bodies〃 after the style of this Mr。 Gnekker。 I am not a musician； and possibly I am mistaken in regard to Mr。 Gnekker； of whom； indeed； I know very little。 But his air of authority and the dignity with which he takes his stand beside the piano when any one is playing or singing strike me as very suspicious。
You may be ever so much of a gentleman and a privy councillor； but if you have a daughter you cannot be secure of immunity from that petty bourgeois atmosphere which is so often brought into your house and into your mood by the attentions of suitors； by matchmaking and marriage。 I can never reconcile myself； for instance； to the expression of triumph on my wife's face every time Gnekker is in our company； nor can I reconcile myself to the bottles of Lafitte； port and sherry which are only brought out on his account； that he may see with his own eyes the liberal and luxurious way in which we live。 I cannot tolerate the habit of spasmodic laughter Liza has picked up at the Conservatoire； and her way of screwing up her eyes whenever there are men in the room。 Above all； I cannot understand why a creature utterly alien to my habits； my studies； my whole manner of life； completely different from the people I like； should come and see me every day； and every day should dine with me。 My wife and my servants mysteriously whisper that he is a suitor； but still I don't understand his presence； it rouses in me the same wonder and perplexity as if they were to set a Zulu beside me at the table。 And it seems strange to me； too； that my daughter； whom I am used to thinking of as a child； should love that cravat； those eyes； those soft cheeks。 。 。 。
In the old days I used to like my dinner； or at least was indifferent about it； now it excites in me no feeling but weariness and irritation。 Ever since I became an 〃Excellency〃 and one of the Deans of the Faculty my family has for some reason found it necessary to make a complete change in our menu and dining habits。 Instead of the simple dishes to which I was accustomed when I was a student and when I was in practice； now they feed me with a puree with little white things like circles floating about in it； and kidneys stewed in madeira。 My rank as a general and my fame have robbed me for ever of cabbage…soup and savoury pies； and goose with apple…sauce； and bream with boiled grain。 They have robbed me of our maid…servant Agasha； a chatty and laughter…loving old woman； instead of whom Yegor； a dull…witted and conceited fellow with a white glove on his right hand； waits at dinner。 The intervals between the courses are short； but they seem immensely long because there is nothing to occupy them。 There is none of the gaiety of the old days； the spontaneous talk； the jokes； the laughter； there is nothing of mutual affection and the joy which used to animate the children； my wife； and me when in old days we met together at meals。 For me； the celebrated man of science； dinner was a time of rest and reunion； and for my wife and children a fete brief indeed； but bright and joyous in which they knew that for half an hour I belonged； not to science； not to students； but to them alone。 Our real exhilaration from one glass of wine is gone for ever； gone is Agasha； gone the bream with boiled grain； gone the uproar that greeted every little startling incident at dinner； such as the cat and dog fighting under the table； or Katya's bandage falling off her face into her soup…plate。
To describe our dinner nowadays is as uninteresting as to eat it。 My wife's face wears a look of triumph and affected dignity； and her habitual expression of anxiety。 She looks at our plates and says； 〃I see you don't care for the joint。 Tell me； you don't like it； do you？〃 and I am obliged to answer： 〃There is no need for you to trouble； my dear； the meat is very nice。〃 And she will say： 〃You always stand up for me； Nikolay Stepanovitch； and you never tell the truth。 Why is Alexandr Adolfovitch eating so little？〃 And so on in the same style all through dinner。 Liza laughs spasmodically and screws up her eyes。 I watch them both； and it is only now at dinner tha
