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雙語·死魂靈 第一部 第十章

所屬教程:譯林版·死魂靈

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2022年06月03日

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PART I CHAPTER X

On assembling at the residence indicated, the tchinovniks had occasion to remark that, owing to all these cares and excitements, every one of their number had grown thinner. Yes, the appointment of a new Governor-General, coupled with the rumours described and the reception of the two serious documents above-mentioned, had left manifest traces upon the features of every one present. More than one frockcoat had come to look too large for its wearer, and more than one frame had fallen away, including the frames of the President of the Council, the Director of the Medical Department, and the Public Prosecutor. Even a certain Semen Ivanovitch, who, for some reason or another, was never alluded to by his family name, but who wore on his index finger a ring with which he was accustomed to dazzle his lady friends, had diminished in bulk. Yet, as always happens at such junctures, there were also present a score of brazen individuals who had succeeded in NOT losing their presence of mind, even though they constituted a mere sprinkling. Of them the Postmaster formed one, since he was a man of equable temperament who could always say: “WE know you, Governor-Generals! We have seen three or four of you come and go, whereas WE have been sitting on the same stools these thirty years.” Nevertheless a prominent feature of the gathering was the total absence of what is vulgarly known as “common sense.” In general, we Russians do not make a good show at representative assemblies, for the reason that, unless there be in authority a leading spirit to control the rest, the affair always develops into confusion. Why this should be so one could hardly say, but at all events a success is scored only by such gatherings as have for their object dining and festivity—to wit, gatherings at clubs or in German-run restaurants. However, on the present occasion, the meeting was NOT one of this kind; it was a meeting convoked of necessity, and likely in view of the threatened calamity to affect every tchinovnik in the place. Also, in addition to the great divergency of views expressed thereat, there was visible in all the speakers an invincible tendency to indecision which led them at one moment to make assertions, and at the next to contradict the same. But on at least one point all seemed to agree—namely, that Chichikov's appearance and conversation were too respectable for him to be a forger or a disguised brigand. That is to say, all SEEMED to agree on the point; until a sudden shout arose from the direction of the Postmaster, who for some time past had been sitting plunged in thought.

“I can tell you,” he cried, “who Chichikov is!”

“Who, then?” replied the crowd in great excitement.

“He is none other than Captain Kopeikin.”

“And who may Captain Kopeikin be?”

Taking a pinch of snuff (which he did with the lid of his snuff-box half-open, lest some extraneous person should contrive to insert a not over-clean finger into the stuff), the Postmaster related the following story .

“After fighting in the campaign of 1812, there was sent home, wounded, a certain Captain Kopeikin—a headstrong, lively blade who, whether on duty or under arrest, made things lively for everybody. Now, since at Krasni or at Leipzig (it matters not which) he had lost an arm and a leg, and in those days no provision was made for wounded soldiers, and he could not work with his left arm alone, he set out to see his father. Unfortunately his father could only just support himself, and was forced to tell his son so; wherefore the Captain decided to go and apply for help in St. Petersburg, seeing that he had risked his life for his country, and had lost much blood in its service. You can imagine him arriving in the capital on a baggage waggon—in the capital which is like no other city in the world! Before him there lay spread out the whole field of life, like a sort of Arabian Nights—a picture made up of the Nevski Prospect, Gorokhovaia Street, countless tapering spires, and a number of bridges apparently supported on nothing—in fact, a regular second Nineveh. Well, he made shift to hire a lodging, but found everything so wonderfully furnished with blinds and Persian carpets and so forth that he saw it would mean throwing away a lot of money. True, as one walks the streets of St. Petersburg one seems to smell money by the thousand roubles, but our friend Kopeikin's bank was limited to a few score coppers and a little silver—not enough to buy a village with! At length, at the price of a rouble a day, he obtained a lodging in the sort of tavern where the daily ration is a bowl of cabbage soup and a crust of bread; and as he felt that he could not manage to live very long on fare of that kind he asked folk what he had better do. ‘What you had better do?’ they said. ‘Well the Government is not here—it is in Paris, and the troops have not yet returned from the war; but there is a TEMPORARY Commission sitting, and you had better go and see what IT can do for you.’ ‘All right!’ he said. ‘I will go and tell the Commission that I have shed my blood, and sacrificed my life, for my country.’ And he got up early one morning, and shaved himself with his left hand (since the expense of a barber was not worth while), and set out, wooden leg and all, to see the President of the Commission. But first he asked where the President lived, and was told that his house was in Naberezhnaia Street. And you may be sure that it was no peasant's hut, with its glazed windows and great mirrors and statues and lacqueys and brass door handles! Rather, it was the sort of place which you would enter only after you had bought a cheap cake of soap and indulged in a two hours' wash. Also, at the entrance there was posted a grand Swiss footman with a baton and an embroidered collar—a fellow looking like a fat, over-fed pug dog. However, friend Kopeikin managed to get himself and his wooden leg into the reception room, and there squeezed himself away into a corner, for fear lest he should knock down the gilded china with his elbow. And he stood waiting in great satisfaction at having arrived before the President had so much as left his bed and been served with his silver wash-basin. Nevertheless, it was only when Kopeikin had been waiting four hours that a breakfast waiter entered to say, ‘The President will soon be here.’ By now the room was as full of people as a plate is of beans, and when the President left the breakfast-room he brought with him, oh, such dignity and refinement, and such an air of the metropolis! First he walked up to one person, and then up to another, saying: ‘What do YOU want? And what do YOU want? What can I do for YOU? What is YOUR business?’ And at length he stopped before Kopeikin, and Kopeikin said to him: ‘I have shed my blood, and lost both an arm and a leg, for my country, and am unable to work. Might I therefore dare to ask you for a little help, if the regulations should permit of it, or for a gratuity, or for a pension, or something of the kind?’ Then the President looked at him, and saw that one of his legs was indeed a wooden one, and that an empty right sleeve was pinned to his uniform. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Come to me again in a few days' time.’ Upon this friend Kopeikin felt delighted. ‘NOW I have done my job!’ he thought to himself; and you may imagine how gaily he trotted along the pavement, and how he dropped into a tavern for a glass of vodka, and how he ordered a cutlet and some caper sauce and some other things for luncheon, and how he called for a bottle of wine, and how he went to the theatre in the evening! In short, he did himself thoroughly well. Next, he saw in the street a young English lady, as graceful as a swan, and set off after her on his wooden leg. ‘But no,’ he thought to himself. ‘To the devil with that sort of thing just now! I will wait until I have drawn my pension. For the present I have spent enough.’ (And I may tell you that by now he had got through fully half his money.) Two or three days later he went to see the President of the Commission again. ‘I should be glad to know,’ he said, ‘whether by now you can do anything for me in return for my having shed my blood and suffered sickness and wounds on military service.’ ‘First of all,’ said the President, ‘I must tell you that nothing can be decided in your case without the authority of the Supreme Government. Without that sanction we cannot move in the matter. Surely you see how things stand until the army shall have returned from the war? All that I can advise you to do is wait for the Minister to return, and, in the meanwhile, to have patience. Rest assured that then you will not be overlooked. And if for the moment you have nothing to live upon, this is the best that I can do for you.’ With that he handed Kopeikin a trifle until his case should have been decided. However, that was not what Kopeikin wanted. He had supposed that he would be given a gratuity of a thousand roubles straight away; whereas, instead of ‘Drink and be merry,’ it was ‘Wait, for the time is not yet.’ Thus, though his head had been full of soup plates and cutlets and English girls, he now descended the steps with his ears and his tail down— looking, in fact, like a poodle over which the cook has poured a bucketful of water. You see, St. Petersburg life had changed him not a little since first he had got a taste of it, and, now that the devil only knew how he was going to live, it came all the harder to him that he should have no more sweets to look forward to. Remember that a man in the prime of years has an appetite like a wolf; and as he passed a restaurant he could see a round-faced, holland-shirted, snow-white aproned fellow of a French chef preparing a dish delicious enough to make it turn to and eat itself; while, again, as he passed a fruit shop he could see delicacies looking out of a window for fools to come and buy them at a hundred roubles apiece. Imagine, therefore, his position! On the one hand, so to speak, were salmon and water-melons, while on the other hand was the bitter fare which passed at a tavern for luncheon. ‘Well,’ he thought to himself, ‘let them do what they like with me at the Commission, but I intend to go and raise the whole place, and to tell every blessed functionary there that I have a mind to do as I choose.’ And in truth this bold impertinence of a man did have the hardihood to return to the Commission. ‘What do you want?’ said the President. ‘Why are you here for the third time? You have had your orders given you.’ ‘I daresay I have,’ he retorted, ‘but I am not going to be put off with THEM. I want some cutlets to eat, and a bottle of French wine, and a chance to go and amuse myself at the theatre.’ ‘Pardon me,’ said the President. ‘What you really need (if I may venture to mention it) is a little patience. You have been given something for food until the Military Committee shall have met, and then, doubtless, you will receive your proper reward, seeing that it would not be seemly that a man who has served his country should be left destitute. On the other hand, if, in the meanwhile, you desire to indulge in cutlets and theatre-going, please understand that we cannot help you, but you must make your own resources, and try as best you can to help yourself.’ You can imagine that this went in at one of Kopeikin's ears, and out at the other; that it was like shooting peas at a stone wall. Accordingly he raised a turmoil which sent the staff flying. One by one, he gave the mob of secretaries and clerks a real good hammering. ‘You, and you, and you,’ he said, ‘do not even know your duties. You are law-breakers.’ Yes, he trod every man of them under foot. At length the General himself arrived from another office, and sounded the alarm. What was to be done with a fellow like Kopeikin? The President saw that strong measures were imperative. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Since you decline to rest satisfied with what has been given you, and quietly to await the decision of your case in St. Petersburg, I must find you a lodging. Here, constable, remove the man to gaol.’ Then a constable who had been called to the door—a constable three ells in height, and armed with a carbine—a man well fitted to guard a bank—placed our friend in a police waggon. ‘Well,’ reflected Kopeikin, ‘a(chǎn)t least I shan't have to pay my fare for THIS ride. That's one comfort.’ Again, after he had ridden a little way, he said to himself: ‘they told me at the Commission to go and make my own means of enjoying myself. Very good. I'll do so.’ However, what became of Kopeikin, and whither he went, is known to no one. He sank, to use the poet's expression, into the waters of Lethe, and his doings now lie buried in oblivion. But allow me, gentlemen, to piece together the further threads of the story. Not two months later there appeared in the forests of Riazan a band of robbers: and of that band the chieftain was none other than—”

“Allow me,” put in the Head of the Police Department. “You have said that Kopeikin had lost an arm and a leg; whereas Chichikov—”

To say anything more was unnecessary. The Postmaster clapped his hand to his forehead, and publicly called himself a fool, though, later, he tried to excuse his mistake by saying that in England the science of mechanics had reached such a pitch that wooden legs were manufactured which would enable the wearer, on touching a spring, to vanish instantaneously from sight.

Various other theories were then propounded, among them a theory that Chichikov was Napoleon, escaped from St. Helena and travelling about the world in disguise. And if it should be supposed that no such notion could possibly have been broached, let the reader remember that these events took place not many years after the French had been driven out of Russia, and that various prophets had since declared that Napoleon was Antichrist, and would one day escape from his island prison to exercise universal sway on earth. Nay, some good folk had even declared the letters of Napoleon's name to constitute the Apocalyptic cipher!

As a last resort, the tchinovniks decided to question Nozdrev, since not only had the latter been the first to mention the dead souls, but also he was supposed to stand on terms of intimacy with Chichikov. Accordingly the Chief of Police dispatched a note by the hand of a commissionaire. At the time Nozdrev was engaged on some very important business—so much so that he had not left his room for four days, and was receiving his meals through the window, and no visitors at all. The business referred to consisted of the marking of several dozen selected cards in such a way as to permit of his relying upon them as upon his bosom friend. Naturally he did not like having his retirement invaded, and at first consigned the commissionaire to the devil; but as soon as he learnt from the note that, since a novice at cards was to be the guest of the Chief of Police that evening, a call at the latter's house might prove not wholly unprofitable he relented, unlocked the door of his room, threw on the first garments that came to hand, and set forth. To every question put to him by the tchinovniks he answered firmly and with assurance. Chichikov, he averred, had indeed purchased dead souls, and to the tune of several thousand roubles. In fact, he (Nozdrev) had himself sold him some, and still saw no reason why he should not have done so. Next, to the question of whether or not he considered Chichikov to be a spy, he replied in the affirmative, and added that, as long ago as his and Chichikov's joint schooldays, the said Chichikov had been known as “The Informer,” and repeatedly been thrashed by his companions on that account. Again, to the question of whether or not Chichikov was a forger of currency notes the deponent, as before, responded in the affirmative, and appended thereto an anecdote illustrative of Chichikov's extraordinary dexterity of hand—namely, an anecdote to that effect that, once upon a time, on learning that two million roubles worth of counterfeit notes were lying in Chichikov's house, the authorities had placed seals upon the building, and had surrounded it on every side with an armed guard; whereupon Chichikov had, during the night, changed each of these seals for a new one, and also so arranged matters that, when the house was searched, the forged notes were found to be genuine ones!

Again, to the question of whether or not Chichikov had schemed to abduct the Governor's daughter, and also whether it was true that he, Nozdrev, had undertaken to aid and abet him in the act, the witness replied that, had he not undertaken to do so, the affair would never have come off. At this point the witness pulled himself up, on realising that he had told a lie which might get him into trouble; but his tongue was not to be denied—the details trembling on its tip were too alluring, and he even went on to cite the name of the village church where the pair had arranged to be married, that of the priest who had performed the ceremony, the amount of the fees paid for the same (seventy-five roubles), and statements that the priest had refused to solemnise the wedding until Chichikov had frightened him by threatening to expose the fact that he (the priest) had married Mikhail, a local corn dealer, to his paramour, and that Chichikov had ordered both a koliaska for the couple's conveyance and relays of horses from the post-houses on the road. Nay, the narrative, as detailed by Nozdrev, even reached the point of his mentioning certain of the postillions by name! Next, the tchinovniks sounded him on the question of Chichikov's possible identity with Napoleon; but before long they had reason to regret the step, for Nozdrev responded with a rambling rigmarole such as bore no resemblance to anything possibly conceivable. Finally, the majority of the audience left the room, and only the Chief of Police remained to listen (in the hope of gathering something more); but at last even he found himself forced to disclaim the speaker with a gesture which said: “The devil only knows what the fellow is talking about!” and so voiced the general opinion that it was no use trying to gather figs of thistles.

Meanwhile Chichikov knew nothing of these events; for, having contracted a slight chill, coupled with a sore throat, he had decided to keep his room for three days; during which time he gargled his throat with milk and fig juice, consumed the fruit from which the juice had been extracted, and wore around his neck a poultice of camomile and camphor. Also, to while away the hours, he made new and more detailed lists of the souls which he had bought, perused a work by the Duchesse de la Vallière , rummaged in his portmanteau, looked through various articles and papers which he discovered in his dispatch-box, and found every one of these occupations tedious. Nor could he understand why none of his official friends had come to see him and inquire after his health, seeing that, not long since, there had been standing in front of the inn the drozhkis both of the Postmaster, the Public Prosecutor, and the President of the Council. He wondered and wondered, and then, with a shrug of his shoulders, fell to pacing the room. At length he felt better, and his spirits rose at the prospect of once more going out into the fresh air; wherefore, having shaved a plentiful growth of hair from his face, he dressed with such alacrity as almost to cause a split in his trousers, sprinkled himself with eau-de-Cologne, and wrapping himself in warm clothes, and turning up the collar of his coat, sallied forth into the street. His first destination was intended to be the Governor's mansion, and, as he walked along, certain thoughts concerning the Governor's daughter would keep whirling through his head, so that almost he forgot where he was, and took to smiling and cracking jokes to himself.

Arrived at the Governor's entrance, he was about to divest himself of his scarf when a Swiss footman greeted him with the words, “I am forbidden to admit you.”

“What?” he exclaimed. “You do not know me? Look at me again, and see if you do not recognise me.”

“Of course I recognise you,” the footman replied. “I have seen you before, but have been ordered to admit any one else rather than Monsieur Chichikov.”

“Indeed? And why so?”

“Those are my orders, and they must be obeyed,” said the footman, confronting Chichikov with none of that politeness with which, on former occasions, he had hastened to divest our hero of his wrappings. Evidently he was of opinion that, since the gentry declined to receive the visitor, the latter must certainly be a rogue.

“I cannot understand it,” said Chichikov to himself. Then he departed, and made his way to the house of the President of the Council. But so put about was that official by Chichikov's entry that he could not utter two consecutive words—he could only murmur some rubbish which left both his visitor and himself out of countenance. Chichikov wondered, as he left the house, what the President's muttered words could have meant, but failed to make head or tail of them. Next, he visited, in turn, the Chief of Police, the Vice-Governor, the Postmaster, and others; but in each case he either failed to be accorded admittance or was received so strangely, and with such a measure of constraint and conversational awkwardness and absence of mind and embarrassment, that he began to fear for the sanity of his hosts. Again and again did he strive to divine the cause, but could not do so; so he went wandering aimlessly about the town, without succeeding in making up his mind whether he or the officials had gone crazy. At length, in a state bordering upon bewilderment, he returned to the inn—to the establishment whence, that every afternoon, he had set forth in such exuberance of spirits. Feeling the need of something to do, he ordered tea, and, still marvelling at the strangeness of his position, was about to pour out the beverage when the door opened and Nozdrev made his appearance.

“What says the proverb?” he began. “‘To see a friend, seven versts is not too long a round to make.’ I happened to be passing the house, saw a light in your window, and thought to myself: ‘Now, suppose I were to run up and pay him a visit? It is unlikely that he will be asleep.’ Ah, ha! I see tea on your table! Good! Then I will drink a cup with you, for I had wretched stuff for dinner, and it is beginning to lie heavy on my stomach. Also, tell your man to fill me a pipe. Where is your own pipe?”

“I never smoke,” rejoined Chichikov drily.

“Rubbish! As if I did not know what a chimney-pot you are! What is your man's name? Hi, Vakhramei! Come here!”

“Petrushka is his name, not Vakhramei.”

“Indeed? But you USED to have a man called Vakhramei, didn't you?”

“No, never.”

“Oh, well. Then it must be Derebin's man I am thinking of. What a lucky fellow that Derebin is! An aunt of his has gone and quarrelled with her son for marrying a serf woman, and has left all her property to HIM, to Derebin. Would that I had an aunt of that kind to provide against future contingencies! But why have you been hiding yourself away? I suppose the reason has been that you go in for abstruse subjects and are fond of reading” (why Nozdrev should have drawn these conclusions no one could possibly have said—least of all Chichikov himself). “By the way, I can tell you of something that would have found you scope for your satirical vein” (the conclusion as to Chichikov's “satirical vein” was, as before, altogether unwarranted on Nozdrev's part). “That is to say, you would have seen merchant Likhachev losing a pile of money at play. My word, you would have laughed! A fellow with me named Perependev said: ‘Would that Chichikov had been here! It would have been the very thing for him!’” (As a matter of fact, never since the day of his birth had Nozdrev met any one of the name of Perependev.) “However, my friend, you must admit that you treated me rather badly the day that we played that game of chess; but, as I won the game, I bear you no malice. A propos, I am just from the President's, and ought to tell you that the feeling against you in the town is very strong, for every one believes you to be a forger of currency notes. I myself was sent for and questioned about you, but I stuck up for you through thick and thin, and told the tchinovniks that I had been at school with you, and had known your father. In fact, I gave the fellows a knock or two for themselves.”

“You say that I am believed to be a forger?” said Chichikov, starting from his seat.

“Yes,” said Nozdrev. “Why have you gone and frightened everybody as you have done? Some of our folk are almost out of their minds about it, and declare you to be either a brigand in disguise or a spy. Yesterday the Public Prosecutor even died of it, and is to be buried to-morrow” (this was true in so far as that, on the previous day, the official in question had had a fatal stroke—probably induced by the excitement of the public meeting). “Of course, I don't suppose you to be anything of the kind, but, you see, these fellows are in a blue funk about the new Governor-General, for they think he will make trouble for them over your affair. A propos, he is believed to be a man who puts on airs, and turns up his nose at everything; and if so, he will get on badly with the dvoriané, seeing that fellows of that sort need to be humoured a bit. Yes, my word! Should the new Governor-General shut himself up in his study, and give no balls, there will be the very devil to pay! By the way, Chichikov, that is a risky scheme of yours.”

“What scheme to you mean?” Chichikov asked uneasily.

“Why, that scheme of carrying off the Governor's daughter. However, to tell the truth, I was expecting something of the kind. No sooner did I see you and her together at the ball than I said to myself: ‘Ah, ha! Chichikov is not here for nothing!’ For my own part, I think you have made a poor choice, for I can see nothing in her at all. On the other hand, the niece of a friend of mine named Bikusov—she IS a girl, and no mistake! A regular what you might call ‘miracle in muslin!’”

“What on earth are you talking about?” asked Chichikov with his eyes distended. “HOW could I carry off the Governor's daughter? What on earth do you mean?”

“Come, come! What a secretive fellow you are! My only object in having come to see you is to lend you a helping hand in the matter. Look here. On condition that you will lend me three thousand roubles, I will stand you the cost of the wedding, the koliaska, and the relays of horses. I must have the money even if I die for it.”

Throughout Nozdrev's maunderings Chichikov had been rubbing his eyes to ascertain whether or not he was dreaming. What with the charge of being a forger, the accusation of having schemed an abduction, the death of the Public Prosecutor (whatever might have been its cause), and the advent of a new Governor-General, he felt utterly dismayed.

“Things having come to their present pass,” he reflected, “I had better not linger here—I had better be off at once.”

Getting rid of Nozdrev as soon as he could, he sent for Selifan, and ordered him to be up at daybreak, in order to clean the britchka and to have everything ready for a start at six o'clock. Yet, though Selifan replied, “Very well, Paul Ivanovitch,” he hesitated awhile by the door. Next, Chichikov bid Petrushka get out the dusty portmanteau from under the bed, and then set to work to cram into it, pell-mell, socks, shirts, collars (both clean and dirty), boot trees, a calendar, and a variety of other articles. Everything went into the receptacle just as it came to hand, since his one object was to obviate any possible delay in the morning's departure. Meanwhile the reluctant Selifan slowly, very slowly, left the room, as slowly descended the staircase (on each separate step of which he left a muddy foot-print), and, finally, halted to scratch his head. What that scratching may have meant no one could say; for, with the Russian populace, such a scratching may mean any one of a hundred things.

第一部 第十章

大家都聚在讀者已經(jīng)知道他是全市的父母和恩人的警察局長的家里。在這地方,官員們這才得了一個機會,彼此看出他們的面頰,為了不斷的愁苦和興奮,都這么的瘦損了下來。實在,新總督的任命,還有極重要的公文,末后是可怕的愁苦——這些一切,都在他們的臉上留著分明的痕跡,連大家的燕尾服也寬大起來了。誰都顯得可憐和困頓。審判廳長,衛(wèi)生監(jiān)督,檢事,看去都瘦削而且發(fā)青,連一個叫作什么綏蒙·伊凡諾維支的,誰也不知道他姓什么,示指上戴一個金戒指,特別愛給太太們看的人,也居然瘦損了一點。自然,其中也有幾個大膽無敵的勇士,沒有恐怖,沒有缺點,不失其心的鎮(zhèn)定的,然而那數(shù)目少得很;唔,可以算數(shù)的其實也只有一個,就是郵政局長。只有他總是平靜如常,毫無變化,當(dāng)這樣的時候也仍然說:“明白你的,你總督大人。你還得換許多地方,我在我的郵局里,卻就要三十年了?!睂τ谶@話,別的官員們往往這樣的回報他道:“你好運氣,先生?!薄八緷娏行痢R·德意支(1),伊凡·安特來伊支?!薄澳愕牟钍故撬托拧阒灰阉偷降男攀障聛恚l(fā)出去;你至多也只能把你的郵局早關(guān)一點鐘,于是向一個遲到的商人,為了過時的收信,討一點東西,或者也許把一個不該寄送的小包,寄送了出去。在這樣的情形之下,自然是能唱高調(diào)的。但是你到我們的位置上來試試看,這地方是天天有妖魔變了人樣子出現(xiàn),不斷的要你在手里玩點把戲的。你自己完全不想要,他卻塞到你手里來。你的晦氣并不怎么大;你只有一個小兒子。我這里呢,上帝卻實在很保佑著我的潑拉司科夫耶·菲陀羅夫娜,使她每年總送給我一個潑拉司科式加或是彼得魯式加(2)。如果這樣,你也就要唱別一種曲子了?!蹦切┕賳T們這么說。至于不斷的抗拒著妖魔,實際上是否辦得到呢,這判斷卻不是作者的事了。在大家聚集起來的這我們的宗務(wù)會議上,分明有一種欠缺,就是民眾的嘴里之所謂沒有毛病的常識。要而言之,對于代議的集會,我們好像是生得不大愜當(dāng)?shù)?。凡有我們的會議,從鄉(xiāng)下的農(nóng)人團體直到一切學(xué)術(shù)的和非學(xué)術(shù)的委員會,只要沒有一個指揮者站在上面,就亂得一塌胡涂。怎么會這樣的呢,很不容易說;好像我們的國民,是只在午膳或者小酌的集會上,例如德國式的大客廳和俱樂部的集會上,這才很有才能的。無論什么時候,對于任何東西,都很高興。仿佛一帆風(fēng)順似的,我們會忽然設(shè)起慈善會,救濟會,以及上帝知道是什么的別樣的會來。目的是好的,但此后卻一定什么事也沒有。大約我們在開初,就是一早,已經(jīng)覺得滿足,相信這些事是全都做過的了。假如我們舉一個要設(shè)立什么會,以慈善為目的,而且已經(jīng)籌了許多款子的來做例子罷,為表揚我們的善舉起見,我們就得擺設(shè)午宴,招待市里所有的闊人,至少化去現(xiàn)款的一半。那一半呢,是給委員們租一所裝汽爐,帶門房的闊宅子,于是全部款子,就只剩下五個半盧布來。而對于這一點款子的分配,會里的各委員也還不能一致,誰都要送給窮苦的伯母或嬸娘。但這一次聚集起來的會議,卻完全是別一種:逼人的必要,召集了在場人的。所議的也和窮人或第三者不相干,商量的事情,都關(guān)于各位官員自己;這是一樣的威嚇各人的危局,所以如果大家同心協(xié)力,正也毫不足怪。然而話雖如此,這會議也還是得了一個昏庸之極的收場。意見的不同和爭論,是這樣的會議上在所不免的,姑且不管它罷,但從各人的意見和議論中,卻又表現(xiàn)了顯著的優(yōu)柔寡斷:一個說,乞乞科夫是制造假鈔票的,但又立刻接下去道:“然而也許并不是。”別一個又說,他許是總督府里的屬員,接著卻又來改正,說道:“不過,魔鬼才知道他是什么,人的臉上是不寫著他是什么的呀?!闭f他是化裝的強盜,卻誰也不以為然,大家都傾服他誠實鎮(zhèn)定的風(fēng)姿,而在談吐上,也沒有會做這樣的兇手的樣子。許多工夫,總在深思熟慮的郵政局長,卻忽然間——因為他發(fā)生了靈感,或是為了別樣的原因——完全出人意外的叫起來了:“你們知道嗎,我的先生們,他是什么人呀?”他的這話,是用一種帶著震動的聲音說出來的,使所有在場的人們,也都異口同聲的叫起來道:“那么,什么人呢?”——“他不是別人,我的先生們,他,最可尊敬的先生,不會不是戈貝金(3)大尉!”大家立刻就問他:“那么,這戈貝金又是什么人呢?”郵政局長卻詫異的回答道:“怎么,你們不知道,戈貝金大尉是什么人嗎?”

大家都告訴他說,他們一向沒有聽到過一點關(guān)于這戈貝金大尉的事。

“這戈貝金大尉,”郵政局長說,于是開開鼻煙壺,但只開了一點點,因為他怕近旁的人,竟會伸下指頭去,而那指頭,他以為是未必干凈的——他倒總是常常說:“知道了的,知道了的,我的好人,您要把您的指頭伸到那里去!鼻煙——這東西,可是要小心,要干凈的呀!”——“這戈貝金大尉,”他重復(fù)說,于是嗅一點鼻煙,“唔——總之,如果我對你們講起他來——這是一個非常有意思的故事;對于一個作者,簡直就是一篇完整的詩?!?/p>

所有在場的人們都表示了希望,要知道這故事,或者如郵政局長所說的這對于一個作者非常有意思的“詩”,于是他開始了下面那樣的講述:

戈貝金大尉的故事

“在一八一二年的出兵(4)之后,可敬的先生,”郵政局長說,雖然并不是只有一個先生,坐在房里的倒一共有六個,“在一八一二年的出兵之后,和別的傷兵一起,有一個大尉,名叫戈貝金的,也送到衛(wèi)戍病院里來了。是一個粗心浮氣的朋友,惡魔似的強橫,凡世界上所有的事,他都做過,在過守衛(wèi)本部,受過許多點鐘的禁錮。在克拉司努伊(5)附近,或是在利俾瑟(6)之戰(zhàn)罷,那不關(guān)緊要,總之是他在戰(zhàn)爭時候失去了一只臂膊和一條腿。您也知道,那時對于傷兵還沒有什么設(shè)備:那廢兵的年金,您也想得到,說起來,是一直到后來這才制定的。戈貝金大尉一看,他應(yīng)該做事,可是您瞧,他只有一條臂膊,就是左邊的那一條。他就到他父親的家里去,但那父親給他的回答是:‘我也還是不能養(yǎng)活你;我,’您想想就是,‘我自己就得十分辛苦,這才能夠維持?!谑俏业母曦惤鸫笪緵Q定,您明白,可敬的先生,于是戈貝金決定,上圣彼得堡去,到該管機關(guān)那里,看他們可能給他一點小小的補助,他呢,說起來,是所謂犧牲了他的一生,而且流過血的……他坐著一輛貨車或是公家的驛車,上首都去了,您瞧,可敬的先生,不消說,他吃盡辛苦,這才到了彼得堡。您自己想想看:現(xiàn)在是這人,就是戈貝金大尉,在彼得堡,就是在所謂世上無雙的地方了!他的周圍忽然光輝燦爛,所謂一片人生的廣野,童話樣的仙海拉宰臺(7)的一種,您聽明白了沒有?您自己想想就是,他面前忽然的躺著這么一條涅夫斯基大街,或者這么一條豌豆街,或者,媽的,這么一條列退那耶街,這里的空中聳著這么的一座塔,那里又掛著幾道橋,您知道,一點架子和柱子也沒有,一句話,真正的什米拉米斯(8)。實在的,可敬的先生!他先在街上走了一轉(zhuǎn),為的是要租一間房子;然而對于他,什么都令人疑疑惑惑:所有這些窗幔,卷簾和所有鬼物事,您知道,就是地毯呀,真正波斯的,可敬的先生……一句話,說起來,就是所謂用腳踏著錢。人走過街上,鼻子遠遠的就覺得,千元鈔票發(fā)著氣味;您知道,我那戈貝金大尉的整個國立銀行里,卻只有五張藍鈔票和一兩枚銀角子……那么,您很知道,這是買不成一塊田地的,也就是說,倘使再加上四萬去,卻也許買得到;然而有四萬,人就先去租法國的王位了。好,他終于住在一個客店‘力伐耳市’里,每天一盧布,您知道,午餐兩樣,一碟菜湯加一片湯料肉……他看起來,他的錢是用不多久的。他就打聽,他應(yīng)該往那里去?!隳艿侥抢锶ツ?,’人們對他說,‘長官都不在市里呀。您明白的,都在巴黎。軍隊還沒有回來。但這里有一個叫作臨時委員會的。您去試試看,’人們對他說,‘在那里您也許會得點什么結(jié)果的罷。’——‘那么,好,我就到委員會去,’戈貝金說,‘我要去告訴他們了。事情是如此這般的。我呢,說起來,是流了我的血,而且犧牲了我的一生的?!谑撬?,有一天的早晨,起來的早一點,用左手理一理胡子,于是,您瞧,他到理發(fā)店里去了,這是因為要顯

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