the wife and other stories-第27节

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nd　tyranny；　but　now　I　hate　the　men　who　make　use　of　violence；　as　though　they　were　alone　to　blame；　and　not　all　of　us　who　do　not　know　how　to　educate　each　other。　What　is　the　meaning　of　it？　If　these　new　ideas　and　new　feelings　have　come　from　a　change　of　convictions；　what　is　that　change　due　to？　Can　the　world　have　grown　worse　and　I　better；　or　was　I　blind　before　and　indifferent？　If　this　change　is　the　result　of　a　general　decline　of　physical　and　intellectual　powers　　I　am　ill；　you　know；　and　every　day　I　am　losing　weight　　my　position　is　pitiable；　it　means　that　my　new　ideas　are　morbid　and　abnormal；　I　ought　to　be　ashamed　of　them　and　think　them　of　no　consequence。　。　。　。〃

〃Illness　has　nothing　to　do　with　it；〃　Katya　interrupts　me；　〃it's　simply　that　your　eyes　are　opened；　that's　all。　You　have　seen　what　in　old　days；　for　some　reason；　you　refused　to　see。　To　my　thinking；　what　you　ought　to　do　first　of　all；　is　to　break　with　your　family　for　good；　and　go　away。〃

〃You　are　talking　nonsense。〃

〃You　don't　love　them；　why　should　you　force　your　feelings？　Can　you　call　them　a　family？　Nonentities！　If　they　died　today；　no　one　would　notice　their　absence　tomorrow。〃

Katya　despises　my　wife　and　Liza　as　much　as　they　hate　her。　One　can　hardly　talk　at　this　date　of　people's　having　a　right　to　despise　one　another。　But　if　one　looks　at　it　from　Katya's　standpoint　and　recognizes　such　a　right；　one　can　see　she　has　as　much　right　to　despise　my　wife　and　Liza　as　they　have　to　hate　her。

〃Nonentities；〃　she　goes　on。　〃Have　you　had　dinner　today？　How　was　it　they　did　not　forget　to　tell　you　it　was　ready？　How　is　it　they　still　remember　your　existence？〃

〃Katya；〃　I　say　sternly；　〃I　beg　you　to　be　silent。〃

〃You　think　I　enjoy　talking　about　them？　I　should　be　glad　not　to　know　them　at　all。　Listen；　my　dear：　give　it　all　up　and　go　away。　Go　abroad。　The　sooner　the　better。〃

〃What　nonsense！　What　about　the　University？〃

〃The　University；　too。　What　is　it　to　you？　There's　no　sense　in　it；　anyway。　You　have　been　lecturing　for　thirty　years；　and　where　are　your　pupils？　Are　many　of　them　celebrated　scientific　men？　Count　them　up！　And　to　multiply　the　doctors　who　exploit　ignorance　and　pile　up　hundreds　of　thousands　for　themselves；　there　is　no　need　to　be　a　good　and　talented　man。　You　are　not　wanted。〃

〃Good　heavens！　how　harsh　you　are！〃　I　cry　in　horror。　〃How　harsh　you　are！　Be　quiet　or　I　will　go　away！　I　don't　know　how　to　answer　the　harsh　things　you　say！〃

The　maid　comes　in　and　summons　us　to　tea。　At　the　samovar　our　conversation；　thank　God；　changes。　After　having　had　my　grumble　out；　I　have　a　longing　to　give　way　to　another　weakness　of　old　age；　reminiscences。　I　tell　Katya　about　my　past；　and　to　my　great　astonishment　tell　her　incidents　which；　till　then；　I　did　not　suspect　of　being　still　preserved　in　my　memory；　and　she　listens　to　me　with　tenderness；　with　pride；　holding　her　breath。　I　am　particularly　fond　of　telling　her　how　I　was　educated　in　a　seminary　and　dreamed　of　going　to　the　University。

〃At　times　I　used　to　walk　about　our　seminary　garden　。　。　。〃　I　would　tell　her。　〃If　from　some　faraway　tavern　the　wind　floated　sounds　of　a　song　and　the　squeaking　of　an　accordion；　or　a　sledge　with　bells　dashed　by　the　garden…fence；　it　was　quite　enough　to　send　a　rush　of　happiness；　filling　not　only　my　heart；　but　even　my　stomach；　my　legs；　my　arms。　。　。　。　I　would　listen　to　the　accordion　or　the　bells　dying　away　in　the　distance　and　imagine　myself　a　doctor；　and　paint　pictures；　one　better　than　another。　And　here；　as　you　see；　my　dreams　have　come　true。　I　have　had　more　than　I　dared　to　dream　of。　For　thirty　years　I　have　been　the　favourite　professor；　I　have　had　splendid　comrades；　I　have　enjoyed　fame　and　honour。　I　have　loved；　married　from　passionate　love；　have　had　children。　In　fact；　looking　back　upon　it；　I　see　my　whole　life　as　a　fine　composition　arranged　with　talent。　Now　all　that　is　left　to　me　is　not　to　spoil　the　end。　For　that　I　must　die　like　a　man。　If　death　is　really　a　thing　to　dread；　I　must　meet　it　as　a　teacher；　a　man　of　science；　and　a　citizen　of　a　Christian　country　ought　to　meet　it；　with　courage　and　untroubled　soul。　But　I　am　spoiling　the　end；　I　am　sinking；　I　fly　to　you；　I　beg　for　help；　and　you　tell　me　'Sink；　that　is　what　you　ought　to　do。'　〃

But　here　there　comes　a　ring　at　the　front…door。　Katya　and　I　recognize　it；　and　say：

〃It　must　be　Mihail　Fyodorovitch。〃

And　a　minute　later　my　colleague；　the　philologist　Mihail　Fyodorovitch；　a　tall；　well…built　man　of　fifty；　clean…shaven；　with　thick　grey　hair　and　black　eyebrows；　walks　in。　He　is　a　good…natured　man　and　an　excellent　comrade。　He　comes　of　a　fortunate　and　talented　old　noble　family　which　has　played　a　prominent　part　in　the　history　of　literature　and　enlightenment。　He　is　himself　intelligent；　talented；　and　very　highly　educated；　but　has　his　oddities。　To　a　certain　extent　we　are　all　odd　and　all　queer　fish；　but　in　his　oddities　there　is　something　exceptional；　apt　to　cause　anxiety　among　his　acquaintances。　I　know　a　good　many　people　for　whom　his　oddities　completely　obscure　his　good　qualities。

Coming　in　to　us；　he　slowly　takes　off　his　gloves　and　says　in　his　velvety　bass：

〃Good…evening。　Are　you　having　tea？　That's　just　right。　It's　diabolically　cold。〃

Then　he　sits　down　to　the　table；　takes　a　glass；　and　at　once　begins　talking。　What　is　most　characteristic　in　his　manner　of　talking　is　the　continually　jesting　tone；　a　sort　of　mixture　of　philosophy　and　drollery　as　in　Shakespeare's　gravediggers。　He　is　always　talking　about　serious　things；　but　he　never　speaks　seriously。　His　judgments　are　always　harsh　and　railing；　but；　thanks　to　his　soft；　even；　jesting　tone；　the　harshness　and　abuse　do　not　jar　upon　the　ear；　and　one　soon　grows　used　to　them。　Every　evening　he　brings　with　him　five　or　six　anecdotes　from　the　University；　and　he　usually　begins　with　them　when　he　sits　down　to　table。

〃Oh；　Lord！〃　he　sighs；　twitching　his　black　eyebrows　ironically。　〃What　comic　people　there　are　in　the　world！〃

〃Well？〃　asks　Katya。

〃As　I　was　coming　from　my　lecture　this　morning　I　met　that　old　idiot　N。　N　on　the　stairs。　。　。　。　He　was　going　along　as　usual；　sticking　out　his　chin　like　a　horse；　looking　for　some　one　to　listen　to　his　grumblings　at　his　migraine；　at　his　wife；　and　his　students　who　won't　attend　his　lectures。　'Oh；'　I　thought；　'he　has　seen　me　　I　am　done　for　now；　it　is　all　up。　。　。　。'　〃

And　so　on　in　the　same　style。　Or　he　will　begin　like　this：

〃I　was　yesterday　at　our　friend　Z。　Z's　public　lecture。　I　wonder　how　it　is　our　alma　mater　　don't　speak　of　it　after　dark　　dare　display　in　public　such　noodles　and　patent　dullards　as　that　Z。　Z　Why；　he　is　a　European　fool！　Upon　my　word；　you　could　not　find　another　like　him　all　over　Europe！　He　lectures　　can　you　imagine？　　as　though　he　were　sucking　a　sugar…stick　　sue；　sue；　sue；　。　。　。　he　is　in　a　nervous　funk；　he　can　hardly　decipher　his　own　manuscript；　his　poor　little　thoughts　crawl　along　like　a　bishop　on　a　bicycle；　and；　what's　worse；　you　can　never　make　out　what　he　is　trying　to　say。　The　deadly　dulness　is　awful；　the　very　flies　expire。　It　can　only　be　compared　with　the　boredom　in　the　assembly…hall　at　the　yearly　meeting　when　the　traditional　address　is　read　　damn　it！〃

And　at　once　an　abrupt　transition：

〃Three　years　ago　　Nikolay　Stepanovitch　here　will　remember　it　　I　had　to　deliver　that　address。　It　was　hot；　stifling；　my　uniform　cut　me　under　the　arms　　it　was　deadly！　I　read　for　half　an　hour；　for　an　hour；　for　an　hour　and　a　half；　for　two　hours。　。　。　。　'Come；'　I　thought；　'thank　God；　there　are　only　ten　　pages　left！'　And　at　the　end　there　were　four　pages　that　there　was　no　need　to　read；　and　I　reckoned　to　leave　them　out。　'So　there　are　only　six　really；'　I　thought；　'that　is；　only　six　pages　left　to　read。'　But；　only　fancy；　I　chanced　to　glance　before　me；　and；　sitting　in　the　front　row；　side　by　side；　were　a　general　with　a　ribbon　on　his　breast　and　a　bishop。　The　poor　beggars　were　numb　with　boredom；　they　were　staring　with　their　eyes　wide　open　to　keep　awake；　and　yet　they　were　trying　to　put　on　an　expression　of　attention　and　to　pretend　that　they　understood　what　I　was　saying　and　liked　it。　'Well；'　I　thought；　'since　you　like　it　you　shall　have　it！　I'll　pay　you　out；'　so　I　just　gave　them　those　four　pages　too。〃

As　is　usual　with　ironical　people；　when　he　talks　nothing　in　his　face　smiles　but　his　eyes　and　eyebrows。　At　such　times　there　is　no　trace　of　hatred　or　spite　in　his　eyes；　but　a　great　deal　of　humour；　and　that　peculiar　fox…like　slyness　which　is　only　to　be　noticed　in　very　observant　people。　Since　I　am　speaking　about　his　eyes；　I　notice　another　peculiarity　in　them。　When　he　takes　a　glass　from　Katya；　or　listens　to　her　speaking；　or　looks　after　her　as　she　goes　out　of　the　room　for　a　moment；　I　notice　in　his　eyes　something　gentle；　beseeching；　pure。　。　。　。

The　maid…servant　takes　away　the　samovar　and　puts　on　the　table　a　large　piece　of　cheese；　some　fruit；　and　a　bottle　of　Crimean　champagne　　a　rather　poor　wine　of　which　Katya　had　grown　fond　in　the　Crimea。　Mihail　Fyodorovitch　takes　two　packs　of　cards　off　the　whatnot　and　begins　to　play　patience。　According　to　him；　some　varieties　of　patience　require　great　concentration　and　attention；　yet　while　he　lays　out　the　cards　he　does　not　leave　off　distracting　his　attention　with　talk。　Katya　watches　his　cards　attentively；　and　more　by　gesture　than　by　words　helps　him　in　his　play。　She　drinks　no　more　than　a　couple　of　wine…glasses　of　wine　the　wh