CHAPTER I

第一章

On one of the hottest days of the summer of 1853, in the shade of a tall lime—tree on the bank of the river Moskva, not far from Kuntsovo, two young men were lying on the grass. One, who looked about twenty—three, tall and swarthy, with a sharp and rather crooked nose, a high forehead, and a restrained smile on his wide mouth, was lying on his back and gazing meditatively into the distance, his small grey eyes half closed. The other was lying on his chest, his curly, fair head propped on his two hands; he, too, was looking away into the distance. He was three years older than his companion, but seemed much younger. His moustache was only just growing, and his chin was covered with a light curly down. There was something childishly pretty, something attractively delicate, in the small features of his fresh round face, in his soft brown eyes, lovely pouting lips, and little white hands. Everything about him was suggestive of the happy light—heartedness of perfect health and youth—the carelessness, conceit, self—indulgence, and charm of youth. He used his eyes, and smiled and leaned his head as boys do who know that people look at them admiringly. He wore a loose white coat, made like a blouse, a blue kerchief wrapped his slender throat, and a battered straw hat had been flung on the grass beside him.

在1853年夏天最热的那段日子里的一天，离孔佐沃不远的莫斯科河岸边，一棵高大笔直的菩提树的树阴下，有两个小伙子躺在草地上。其中一个看上去有二十三岁左右，身材高大，皮肤黝黑，鼻子又尖又弯，前额很高，大大的嘴唇似笑非笑。他正仰面躺着，半眯着灰色的小眼睛若有所思地凝视着远方。另一个小伙子趴在地上，他长着淡金色的卷发，两手撑着头，也正望着远方。他比他的伙伴大三岁，但看上去却年轻得多。他刚开始长胡子，下巴上覆盖着一层稀疏的弯曲绒毛。在他那生气勃勃的、圆润的脸庞上，在他那温柔的、褐色的眼睛里，在他那可爱的撅着的嘴唇和那白嫩的小手上，无不流露出一种孩子般美好的东西，一种迷人的、优美的东西。他浑身都显示出一股由于十足的健康与青春而产生的轻松愉快的气息——年少的无忧无虑、自负、任性和魅力。他眼睛转了转，笑着歪着脑袋。那样子就像那些知道人们会羡慕地看着他们的小孩子一样。他穿着一件宽松的白色外套，样式像一件短上衣似的，细长的脖子上戴着一条蓝色的围巾，身旁的草地上还丢着一顶破旧的草帽。

His companion seemed elderly in comparison with him; and no one would have supposed, from his angular figure, that he too was happy and enjoying himself. He lay in an awkward attitude; his large head—wide at the crown and narrower at the base—hung awkwardly on his long neck; awkwardness was expressed in the very pose of his hands, of his body, tightly clothed in a short black coat, and of his long legs with their knees raised, like the hind—legs of a grasshopper. For all that, it was impossible not to recognise that he was a man of good education; the whole of his clumsy person bore the stamp of good—breeding; and his face, plain and even a little ridiculous as it was, showed a kindly nature and a thoughtful habit. His name was Andrei Petrovitch Bersenyev; his companion, the fair—haired young man, was called Pavel Yakovlitch Shubin.

他的同伴和他比起来，看上去要老得多。没有人会在看到他那瘦骨嶙峋的身体以后，还猜想他很快乐或是正享受着生活。他以一种怪异的姿势躺在草地上。他的大脑袋——上面宽下面窄——不协调地吊在他细长的脖子上。他的手、他的身体和他的腿都透着笨拙。他的身体裹在黑色紧身短外套里，他的长腿在膝盖处隆起，就像蚂蚱的后腿一样。尽管如此，但大家不可能看不出他是一个受过良好教育的年轻人。他整个人笨拙的样子显示出他有良好的教养；他那平凡甚至有些滑稽的面容也表现出一种和蔼的性格和勤于思考的习惯。他叫安德烈? 彼得罗维奇? 别尔谢涅夫。他的同伴，那个有着一头金发的年轻人叫帕维尔? 雅克夫利奇? 舒宾。

'Why don't you lie on your face, like me? ' began Shubin. 'It's ever so much nicer so; especially when you kick up your heels and clap them together—like this. You have the grass under your nose; when you're sick of staring at the landscape you can watch a fat beetle crawling on a blade of grass, or an ant fussing about. It's really much nicer. But you've taken up a pseudo—classical pose, for all the world like a ballet—dancer, when she reclines upon a rock of paste—board. You should remember you have a perfect right to take a rest now. It's no joking matter to come out third! Take your ease, sir; give up all exertion, and rest your weary limbs!’

“你为什么不像我一样趴在地上呢？” 舒宾说， “这样可舒服了，尤其是当你抬起脚后跟，把它们撞在一起——就像这样。你的鼻子下面就是草地，当你对看风景感到厌倦时，你可以观察草叶上缓慢蠕动的胖胖的甲虫，或是看看忙忙碌碌的小蚂蚁。这样确实舒服得多。但是你现在却摆出一副假古典的模样，谁看都像一个芭蕾舞演员斜靠在胶纸板做的假岩石上。你要知道你现在完全有权利来放松一下你自己。你已经得第三名了，这可不是开玩笑的！放松点儿，先生。放弃所有的努力，让你疲惫的四肢歇歇吧！”

Shubin delivered this speech through his nose in a half—lazy, half—joking voice (spoilt children speak so to friends of the house who bring them sweetmeats), and without waiting for an answer he went on:

舒宾模糊不清地、用半懒散半开玩笑的腔调说着上面那些话（就像那些被宠坏了的孩子们对那些给他们送来糖果的客人们说话一样），不及等到回答，他又接着说：

'What strikes me most forcibly in the ants and beetles and other worthy insects is their astounding seriousness. They run to and fro with such a solemn air, as though their life were something of such importance! A man the lord of creation, the highest being, stares at them, if you please, and they pay no attention to him. Why, a gnat will even settle on the lord of creation's nose, and make use of him for food. It's most offensive. And, on the other hand, how is their life inferior to ours? And why shouldn't they take themselves seriously, if we are to be allowed to take ourselves seriously? There now, philosopher, solve that problem for me! Why don't you speak? Eh? '

“在蚂蚁、甲虫和其他益虫身上，让我感受最强烈的就是它们那种令人惊讶的认真劲。它们勤勤恳恳地来回奔波着，好像它们的生活是如此重要！人是万物之灵，是最高级的生物。只要你乐意，你就可以盯着它们看，但它们对你毫不在意。哎，一只蚊子都能飞到万物之灵的鼻头上，吸人血做食物。这是最令人讨厌的。然而，另一方面，它们的生命怎么就比人低一等呢？如果我们有认真地对待自己的权利，为何它们就不能认真对待自己呢？喂，哲学家，给我解释解释这个问题！你怎么不说话？嗯？”

'What? ' said Bersenyev, starting.

“什么？” 别尔谢涅夫愣了一下说道。

'What! ' repeated Shubin. 'Your friend lays his deepest thoughts before you, and you don't listen to him. '

“什么！” 舒宾重复道， “你的朋友在你面前讲了那么多深刻的观点，你竟然什么也没听到。”

'I was admiring the view. Look how hot and bright those fields are in the sun. ' Bersenyev spoke with a slight lisp.

“我刚才在欣赏风景呢。看那些阳光下田野的颜色是多么地火热和明亮。” 别尔谢涅夫有点儿口齿不清地说。

'There's some fine colour laid on there, ' observed Shubin. 'Nature's a good hand at it, that's the fact!’

“那里确实是铺上了一层绚丽的色彩，” 舒宾看了看说， “大自然最擅长这个了，毋庸置疑！”

Bersenyev shook his head.

别尔谢涅夫摇了摇头。

'You ought to be even more ecstatic over it than I. It's in your line: you're an artist. '

“对这些，你应该比我更痴迷吧。这个你在行，你可是个艺术家啊。”

'No, it's not in my line, ' rejoined Shubin, putting his hat on the back of his head. 'Flesh is my line; my work's with flesh—modelling flesh, shoulders, legs, and arms, and here there's no form, no finish; it's all over the place…. Catch it if you can. '

“不，我不擅长这个，” 舒宾一边说着，一边把他的帽子放在脑后， “我擅长的是刻画肌肉。我的工作都跟肌肉有关——塑造肌肉模型、肩膀、腿和胳膊。但是这里并没有形状，也没有终点，到处都是……抓住它们，如果你可以的话。”

'But there is beauty here, too, ' remarked Bersenyev. — ‘By the way, have you finished your bas—relief? '

“但是这里也很美丽啊。” 别尔谢涅夫评价说， “顺带问一句，你的浅浮雕做好了吗？”

'Which one? '

“哪一件？”

'The boy with the goat. '

“《小男孩和山羊》。”

'Hang it! Hang it! Hang it! ' cried Shubin, drawling— ‘I looked at the genuine old things, the antiques, and I smashed my rubbish to pieces. You point to nature, and say "there's beauty here, too.” Of course, there's beauty in everything, even in your nose there's beauty; but you can't try after all kinds of beauty. The ancients, they didn't try after it; beauty came down of itself upon their creations from somewhere or other—from heaven, I suppose. The whole world belonged to them; it's not for us to be so large in our reach; our arms are short. We drop our hook into one little pool, and keep watch over it. If we get a bite, so much the better, if not—’

“该死的！该死的！该死的！” 舒宾拖长腔调大声喊道—— “我欣赏了一些年代久远的佳作，那都是些古董级的作品，然后就把自己的垃圾作品摔成了碎片。你指着大自然，然后说 ‘这里也很美丽’ 。当然，美无处不在，甚至也存在于你的鼻子里，但是你不能试着去追求所有的美。古人们并没有刻意地去追求美，但他们的作品中却蕴含着一种不知从何而来的自然而然的美——我猜那是从天而降的美吧。整个世界是属于他们的，我们想要追求的范围太大，我们的胳膊却并没有那么长。我们把鱼钩放进一个小池塘里，然后一直盯着它。如果有鱼上钩，这样当然更好，但如果没有——”

Shubin put out his tongue.

舒宾吐了吐舌头。

'Stop, stop, ' said Bensenyev, 't hat's a paradox. If you have no sympathy for beauty, if you do not love beauty wherever you meet it, it will not come to you even in your art. If a beautiful view, if beautiful music does not touch your heart; I mean, if you are not sympathetic—’

“别说了，别说了，” 别尔谢涅夫说， “这种说法是矛盾的。如果你不懂得欣赏美，如果在任何遇到美的地方你却不知道去欣赏美的话，那么美也不会靠近你，更不会出现在你的作品中。如果美丽的风景，美妙动听的音乐也触动不了你的内心，我的意思是说，如果你没有共鸣的话——”

'Ah, you are a confirmed sympathetic! ' broke in Shubin, laughing at the new title he had coined, while Bersenyev sank into thought.

“啊，那你一定很有感触！” 舒宾打断他说，并为自己刚才所说的话大笑了起来，然而别尔谢涅夫却陷入了沉思。

'No, my dear fellow, ' Shubin went on, 'you're a clever person, a philosopher, third graduate of the Moscow University; it's dreadful arguing with you, especially for an ignoramus like me, but I tell you what; besides my art, the only beauty I love is in women…in girls, and even that's recently. '

“不，我亲爱的朋友，” 舒宾继续说道， “你很聪明，你是位哲学家，是莫斯科大学位列第三名的毕业生，和你一起辩论不是件容易的事，尤其是像我这样没有多少文化的人，但我要跟你说，除了艺术之外，我只爱女人的美……女孩身上的美，我甚至是最近才发现的。”

He turned over on to his back and clasped his hands behind his head.

他转过身体仰面躺下，双手扣在脑袋后面。

A few instants passed by in silence. The hush of the noonday heat lay upon the drowsy, blazing fields.

他们沉默了一小会儿。正午的炎热中，灿烂却令人昏昏欲睡的田野上寂静一片。

'Speaking of women, ' Shubin began again, 'how is it no one looks after Stahov? Did you see him in Moscow? '

“提到女人，” 舒宾又说道， “怎么没有人照顾斯塔霍夫呢？你在莫斯科见过他吗？”

'No. '

“没有。”

'The old fellow's gone clean off his head. He sits for whole days together at his Augustina Christianovna's, he's bored to death, but still he sits there. They gaze at one another so stupidly…. It's positively disgusting to see them. Man's a strange animal. A man with such a home; but no, he must have his Augustina Christianovna! I don't know anything more repulsive than her face, just like a duck's! The other day I modelled a caricature of her in the style of Dantan. It wasn't half bad. I will show it you. '

“这老家伙完全疯了。他天天都坐在他的奥古斯丁娜? 克里斯蒂安诺夫娜家里，真是无聊死啦，但他却依然纹丝不动。他们傻傻地盯着对方……看到他们真是让人反胃。人确实是很奇怪的生物。一个有着这样家庭的男人却不知足，仍然要得到奥古斯丁娜? 克里斯蒂安诺夫娜！我不知道还有什么能比她的样子更令人厌恶的了，她长得简直就像鸭子似的！我曾经还专门以丹唐的创作风格画了她的漫画像。看着还不错。过几天我让你看看。”

'And Elena Nikolaevna's bust? ' inquired Bersenyev, 'is it getting on? '

“那埃琳娜? 尼古拉耶夫娜的半身雕塑像呢？” 别尔谢涅夫问， “那个进展顺利吗？”

'No, my dear boy, it's not getting on. That face is enough to drive one to despair. The lines are pure, severe, correct; one would think there would be no difficulty in catching a likeness. It's not as easy as one would think though. It's like a treasure in a fairy—tale—you can't get hold of it. Have you ever noticed how she listens? There's not a single feature different, but the whole expression of the eyes is constantly changing, and with that the whole face changes. What is a sculptor—and a poor one too—to do with such a face? She's a wonderful creature—a strange creature, ' he added after a brief pause.

“不，我亲爱的朋友，我没有继续弄。那脸庞简直让人绝望。它看上去线条分明、清晰、准确。其他人可能会想把它做得与模特相像应该毫不费力。然而这并没有人们想象得那么简单。就像童话故事中的宝藏那样——你是不可能得到的。你以前注意过她是怎样听别人说话的吗？她的表情毫无变化，只有眼神的不断变化带着整个脸部在变化而已。这样的一张脸，让一个雕塑家——还是个技法不高的雕塑家——怎么做下去啊？她真是一个奇妙的人——一个古怪的人。” 停了好一会儿，他继续说道。

'Yes; she is a wonderful girl, ' Bersenyev repeated after him.

“的确，她是个奇妙的女孩。” 别尔谢涅夫接着重复说。

'And she the daughter of Nikolai Artemyevitch Stahov! And after that people talk about blood, about stock! The amusing part of it is that she really is his daughter, like him, as well as like her mother, Anna Vassilyevna. I respect Anna Vassilyevna from the depths of my heart, she's been awfully good to me; but she's no better than a hen. Where did Elena get that soul of hers? Who kindled that fire in her? There's another problem for you, philosopher!’

“她还是尼古拉? 阿尔捷米耶维奇? 斯塔霍夫的女儿！之后人们还谈起她的家世和出身。有意思的是，她真的是他的女儿，长得很像他，而且和她的妈妈安娜? 瓦西里耶夫娜也很相像。我发自内心地尊敬安娜? 瓦西里耶夫娜，她曾经对我非常好，但实际上她比母鸡好不到哪里去。但埃琳娜那美好的心灵又是从何而来的呢？是谁点燃了她内心的火种呢？这个问题也靠你了，哲学家！”

But as before, the 'philosopher' made no reply. Bersenyev did not in general err on the side of talkativeness, and when he did speak, he expressed himself awkwardly, with hesitation, and unnecessary gesticulation. And at this time a kind of special stillness had fallen on his soul, a stillness akin to lassitude and melancholy. He had not long come from town after prolonged hard work, which had absorbed him for many hours every day. The inactivity, the softness and purity of the air, the consciousness of having attained his object, the whimsical and careless talk of his friend, and the image—so suddenly called up—of one dear to him, all these impressions different—yet at the same time in a way akin—were mingled in him into a single vague emotion, which at once soothed and excited him, and robbed him of his power. He was a very highly strung young man.

然而，和刚才一样， “哲学家” 依然沉默不语。别尔谢涅夫一般不会让自己出现喋喋不休的失误，当他说话的时候，他也总是结结巴巴地用一些奇怪的方式去表达自己，而且还会加些不必要的手势。此时，他感受到了一种不寻常的宁静，一种类似于疲乏而又忧郁的宁静。不久前，他结束了每天长达好几个小时的辛苦加班，才从城里搬来这边。闲居无事，柔和纯净的空气，达到自己目标的感觉，和朋友之间诙谐轻松的谈话，那突然蹦入脑海的对他很重要的女孩的模样，所有这些不同的感觉——但同时又看起来很相似——在他的内心里混合产生了一种模糊的情绪，这种情绪既让他感到内心平静，又让他感到激情澎湃，还让他觉得自己被抽干了力气。他以前是个脾气暴躁的年轻人。

It was cool and peaceful under the lime—tree; the flies and bees seemed to hum more softly as they flitted within its circle of shade. The fresh fine grass, of purest emerald green, without a tinge of gold, did not quiver, the tall flower stalks stood motionless, as though enchanted. On the lower twigs of the lime—tree the little bunches of yellow flowers hung still as death. At every breath a sweet fragrance made its way to the very depths of the lungs, and eagerly the lungs inhaled it. Beyond the river in the distance, right up to the horizon, all was bright and glowing. At times a slight breeze passed over, breaking up the landscape and intensifying the brightness; a sunlit vapour hung over the fields. No sound came from the birds; they do not sing in the heat of noonday; but the grasshoppers were chirping everywhere, and it was pleasant as they sat in the cool and quietness, to hear that hot, eager sound of life; it disposed to slumber and inclined the heart to reveries.

菩提树下既凉快又安静，苍蝇和蜜蜂在树阴底下掠过时的嗡嗡声也仿佛温柔了许多。纯净如绿宝石色般新鲜有生机的草地成片安静地铺在那里，没有一点儿被晒黄的痕迹。花朵们长长的花茎一动不动地矗立着，好像被施了魔法一般。在菩提树上长得靠下面的细枝上，一簇簇的小黄花安静地挂在上面，就好像死掉了似的。每次呼吸，香甜花香都能直入肺底，而肺也急切地呼吸着。远方，从河那边一直到地平线，一切东西看起来都闪闪发亮，绚丽多彩。有时一阵微风轻轻吹过，破开了这片宁静的风景，使得其耀眼的光芒变得更加夺目，阳光下蒸腾的热气弥漫在整个田野上。小鸟也不叫了，在这烈日炎炎的正午，它们也不唱歌了；但蚱蜢的叫声却此起彼伏，坐在清凉安静的树阴下听那对生命热情期待的叫声，也会感到十分舒坦；这种感觉既让人昏昏欲睡，又使人忍不住遐想起来。

'Have you noticed, ' began Bersenyev, eking out his words with gesticulations, 'what a strange feeling nature produces in us? Everything in nature is so complete, so defined, I mean to say, so content with itself, and we understand that and admire it, and at the same time, in me at least, it always excites a kind of restlessness, a kind of uneasiness, even melancholy. What is the meaning of it? Is it that in the face of nature we are more vividly conscious of all our incompleteness, our indefiniteness, or have we little of that content with which nature is satisfied, but something else—I mean to say, what we need, nature has not? '

“你注意过没有，” 别尔谢涅夫开口说道，并不停地比着手势， “大自然在我们心里引发了一种多么奇特的感觉啊？大自然中所有的东西都如此完整，如此确定，我的意思是说，它们都对自己感到心满意足，我们理解并欣赏这一点。同时，至少我的心里总是对大自然存有一丝焦虑，一丝不安，甚至一丝忧郁。这到底是什么意思呢？难道是当我们面对大自然的时候，我们才能更加深入地了解自身的不足，自身的迷茫吗？或者是我们缺少那种大自然中处处存在的自身满足感，又或是其他的东西——我是想说，那些我们想要而大自然中却没有的东西？”

'H' m, 'replied Shubin, ' I'll tell you, Andrei Petrovitch, what all that comes from. You describe the sensations of a solitary man, who is not living but only looking on in ecstasy. Why look on? Live, yourself, and you will be all right. However much you knock at nature's door, she will never answer you in comprehensible words, because she is dumb. She will utter a musical sound, or a moan, like a harp string, but don't expect a song from her. A living heart, now—that will give you your answer—especially a woman's heart. So, my dear fellow, I advise you to get yourself some one to share your heart, and all your distressing sensations will vanish at once. "That's what we need, " as you say. This agitation, and melancholy, all that, you know, is simply a hunger of a kind. Give the stomach some real food, and everything will be right directly. Take your place in the landscape, live in the body, my dear boy. And after all, what is nature? what's the use of it? Only hear the word, love—what an intense, glowing sound it has! Nature—what a cold, pedantic expression. And so ' (Shubin began humming), ' my greetings to Marya Petrovna! or rather, 'he added, ' not Marya Petrovna, but it's all the same! Voo me compreny. '

“嗯，” 舒宾回答说， “我来告诉你吧，安德烈? 彼得罗维奇，这到底是怎么一回事。你描述的是一个孤独男人的感受，这样的男人没有真正在生活，而只在一边冷眼旁观。为什么要冷眼旁观呢？你自己好好生活，就会好了。不管你问大自然多少次，她永远不会用你能听懂的语言回答你，因为她不会说话。她能够发出像竖琴那样优美的曲调或呻吟，但你永远不会听到她的歌声。现在，一颗在生活的心——能够给你所要的答案——尤其是一个女人的心。所以，我亲爱的伙伴，我建议你去交一个朋友来分享你的心情，这样你所有的烦恼情绪都会立马消失不见。正如你所说的，这就是 ‘我们所需要的’ 。你要知道，这种忧虑和感伤，诸如此类，都只不过是你情感空虚的一种表现而已。要对症下药，这样的话，所有的问题都会被很快解决。我亲爱的兄弟，你应选好自己在这片风景中的位置，开开心心地生活。总之，大自然是什么呢？它有什么价值呢？仅仅听一听这个词语，爱情——听起来是多么地激动人心，多么绚丽多彩啊！而自然——听上去是多么冷淡、书卷气十足的表达啊。所以，” （舒宾开始哼唱）， “玛利亚? 彼得罗夫娜万岁！或许不是，” 他接着说道， “不是玛利亚? 彼得罗夫娜，不过都一样的！你明白我的意思。”

Bersenyev got up and stood with his chin leaning on his clasped hands. 'What is there to laugh at? ' he said, without looking at his companion, 'why should you scoff? Yes, you are right: love is a grand word, a grand feeling…. But what sort of love do you mean? '

别尔谢涅夫站起身来，下巴抵在交握在一起的双拳上。 “有什么好笑的？” 他说，瞧都没瞧同伴一眼， “为什么你要开这种玩笑呢？是的，你说的没错，爱情是个伟大的字眼，是一种强烈的情感……但你所说的又是指哪种爱情呢？”

Shubin too, got up. 'What sort? What you like, so long as it's there. I will confess to you that I don't believe in the existence of different kinds of love. If you are in love—’

舒宾也站了起来。 “哪种？只要你拥有了，不管哪种都可以。实话跟你讲吧，我从来不相信有很多种爱情。只要你陷入爱情——”

'With your whole heart, ' put in Bersenyev.

“并且是全身心地投入其中。” 别尔谢涅夫接着说。

'Well, of course, that's an understood thing; the heart's not an apple; you can't divide it. If you're in love, you're justified. And I wasn't thinking of scoffing. My heart's as soft at this moment as if it had been melted…. I only wanted to explain why nature has the effect on us you spoke of. It's because she arouses in us a need for love, and is not capable of satisfying it. Nature is gently driving us to other living embraces, but we don't understand, and expect something from nature herself. Ah, Andrei, Andrei, this sun, this sky is beautiful, everything around us is beautiful, still you are sad; but if, at this instant, you were holding the hand of a woman you loved, if that hand and the whole woman were yours, if you were even seeing with her eyes, feeling not your own isolated emotion, but her emotion—nature would not make you melancholy or restless then, and you would not be observing nature's beauty; nature herself would be full of joy and praise; she would be re—echoing your hymn, because then you would have given her—dumb nature—speech!’

“当然，这是肯定的，人心又不是苹果，你无法把心分成两半。如果你正在恋爱，你就知道了。我并不是想开玩笑。现在我的心里柔软得仿佛融化了一般……我只想说明的是，大自然为何会像你说的那样对我们产生影响。那是因为它唤起了我们对爱的渴望，但却无法让我们得到满足。自然温柔地引领我们投入他人的怀抱，但我们却并不了解自然，还期望着能从自然那里得到些什么。啊，安德烈，安德烈，这太阳，这天空，是多么地漂亮，周围的一切是多么地赏心悦目，而你却一直愁眉不展。不过，要是现在你握着你爱的女人的手，如果那手和那个女人都是属于你的，如果你是以她的眼光去衡量，不是以你自己落寞的心情而是以她的心情去体会——大自然就不会让你感到悲伤或不安，你也不会一直寻找自然的美，自然本身就充满了欢声笑语，她会回应你的赞美，因为那时，你给她的——给沉默的大自然的——将是一部赞美的诗篇！”

Shubin leaped on to his feet and walked twice up and down, but Bersenyev bent his head, and his face was overcast by a faint flush.

舒宾跳了起来，在原地来回走了两圈，而别尔谢涅夫则垂着脑瓜，脸上浮上一层淡淡的绯红。

'I don't altogether agree with you, ' he began: 'nature does not always urge us…towards love. ' (He could not at once pronounce the word. ) 'Nature threatens us, too; she reminds us of dreadful…yes, insoluble mysteries. Is she not destined to swallow us up, is she not swallowing us up unceasingly? She holds life and death as well; and death speaks in her as loudly as life. '

“我并不完全赞同你的说法，” 他开始讲道， “大自然不会总将我们……引向爱情。” （他还不能直截了当地说出这个词语。） “大自然也会警告我们的，她会让我们想起一些可怕的……是的，那些到现在还没法解释的谜团。难道她不是注定要吞噬我们，她现在不一直在逐渐吞噬我们吗？她掌握着生死，在大自然里，死和生是一样的。”

'In love, too, there is both life and death, ' interposed Shubin.

“爱情中也有生与死。” 舒宾插话说。

'And then, ' Bersenyev went on: 'when I, for example, stand in the spring in the forest, in a green glade, when I can fancy the romantic notes of Oberon's fairy horn’ (Bersenyev was a little ashamed when he had spoken these words) — ‘is that, too—’

“然而，” 别尔谢涅夫继续说， “举个例子，当我站在春天的森林里，周围是一大片生机盎然的绿色，当我在想象中听到奥伯龙那角笛中浪漫的旋律时” （说这些话时，别尔谢涅夫感到有点儿不好意思）—— “那是否也是——

'The thirst for love, the thirst for happiness, nothing more! ' broke in Shubin. 'I, too, know those notes, I know the languor and the expectation which come upon the soul in the forest's shade, in its deep recesses, or at evening in the open fields when the sun sets and the river mist rises behind the bushes. But forest, and river, and fields, and sky, every cloud and every blade of grass sets me expecting, hoping for happiness, I feel the approach, I hear the voice of happiness calling in everything. ' God of my worship, bright and gay! 'That was how I tried to begin my sole poem; you must own it's a splendid first line, but I could never produce a second. Happiness! happiness! as long as life is not over, as long as we have the use of all our limbs, as long as we are going up, not down, hill! Damn it all! ' pursued Shubin with sudden vehemence, 'we are young, and neither fools nor monsters; we will conquer happiness for ourselves! '

“对爱情的渴望，对幸福的向往，仅此而已！” 舒宾接着说道， “我也知道那些旋律，我也同样懂得在森林的树阴下，在树林的深处，或是在黄昏时空旷的田野里，在太阳落下、薄雾从灌木丛后的河面上缓缓升起的时候，内心深处总会升起一股莫名的疲倦和期待。然而森林、河流、田野、天空、白云和青草的每一片草叶都激起了我对幸福的期待与希望，我感受到了幸福的临近，我听到了身边的一切都在发出幸福的召唤。 ‘我所崇拜的上帝啊，光辉欢乐的上帝！’ 我唯一的一首诗就是这么写的，你得承认这个开头确实很棒，但是接着我却写不下去了。幸福！幸福！只要我们的生命还没有结束，只要我们的四肢还能干活，只要我们还在向顶峰攀登，没有倒退！一切都没关系！” 舒宾充满激情地接着说道， “我们现在还很年轻，既不是傻瓜也不是怪物，让我们为自己去追求幸福吧！”

He shook his curls, and turned a confident almost challenging glance upwards to the sky. Bersenyev raised his eyes and looked at him.

他甩了甩那一头卷发，充满自信地望了望天空，几乎带着挑战的意味。别尔谢涅夫抬眼看着他。

'Is there nothing higher than happiness? ' he commented softly.

“难道没有比幸福更重要的事了吗？” 别尔谢涅夫嘀咕着。

'And what, for instance? ' asked Shubin, stopping short.

“是什么呢，举个例子？” 舒宾暂时停下来问他。

'Why, for instance, you and I are, as you say, young; we are good men, let us suppose; each of us desires happiness for himself…. But is that word, happiness, one that could unite us, set us both on fire, and make us clasp each other's hands? Isn't that word an egoistic one; I mean, isn't it a source of disunion? '

“比如，我和你，就像你说的，现在都很年轻，假如说我们都是好人，我们都渴望着各自的幸福……但幸福这个词，它能让我们团结起来，激励我们，让我们相互扶持吗？它不会让我们变得自私自利，我的意思是说，它难道不是让我们大家彼此分离的源头吗？”

'Do you know words, then, that unite men? '

“你知道语言是能团结起来人们的吗？”

'Yes; and they are not few in number; and you know them, too. '

“你知道的。而且这样的语言还不少，你也知道这样的语言的。”

'Eh? What words? '

“嗯？什么语言？”

'Well, even Art—since you are an artist—Country, Science, Freedom, Justice. '

“比方说艺术——既然你是艺术家——国家，科学，自由和正义。”

'And what of love? ' asked Shubin.

“没有爱情吗？” 舒宾问他。

'Love, too, is a word that unites; but not the love you are eager for now; the love which is not enjoyment, the love which is self—sacrifice. '

“有啊，爱情也可以使我们团结起来，但并不是你现在所渴望的那种爱情，那种爱情和贪图享乐无关，而是需要自我牺牲的爱情。”

Shubin frowned.

舒宾皱了皱眉头。

'That's all very well for Germans; I want to love for myself; I want to be first. '

“这些对德国人来说确实很好，但我却想为自己去爱，我想把自己放在首位。”

'To be first, ' repeated Bersenyev. 'But it seems to me that to put one' s—self in the second place is the whole significance of our life. '

“把自己放在首位，” 别尔谢涅夫重复了一遍， “不过，我总觉得把自己放在次要的位置才是生活的全部意义。”

'If all men were to act as you advise, commented Shubin with a plaintive expression, none on earth would eat pine—apples; every one would be offering them to other people. '

“如果所有人都按照你所说的去做，” 舒宾装作埋怨的样子说， “那么地球上就没人吃菠萝啦，大家都只是一味地相互推让。”

'That's as much as to say, pine—apples are not necessary; but you need not be alarmed; there will always be plenty of people who like them enough to take the bread out of other men's mouths to get them. '

“这不就等于在说菠萝是可有可无的嘛，你不必太过惊慌，总会有一些喜欢吃菠萝的人，甚至可以从别人嘴边夺下面包来换取菠萝。”

Both friends were silent a little.

两个人都沉默了一小会儿。

'I met Insarov again the other day, ' began Bersenyev. 'I invited him to stay with me; I really must introduce him to you—and to the Stahovs. '

“前几天我又见到因萨罗夫了。” 别尔谢涅夫说， “我邀请他和我一起，我一定得把他介绍给你——还有斯塔霍夫一家。”

'Who is Insarov? Ah, to be sure, isn't it that Servian or Bulgarian you were telling me about? The patriot? Now isn't it he who's at the bottom of all these philosophical ideas? '

“因萨罗夫是谁？啊，我想确认一下，他就是你给我说过的那个塞尔维亚人或保加利亚人吗？那个爱国主义者吗？刚才你的这些哲学观点的源头难道是来源于他吗？”

'Perhaps. '

“也许是的。”

'Is he an exceptional individual? '

“他很独特吗？”

'Yes. '

“是的。”

'Clever? Talented? '

“聪明？才华横溢？”

'Clever—talented—I don't know, I don't think so. '

“聪明？才华横溢？这我可不知道，我觉得他不能用聪明和才华横溢来形容。”

'Not? Then, what is there remarkable in him? '

“他不聪明吗？好吧，那他有什么优点？”

'You shall see. But now I think it's time to be going. Anna Vassilyevna will be waiting for us, very likely. What's the time? '

“你以后就会了解的。但是现在，我想我们该走了。安娜? 瓦西里耶夫娜很可能在等我们呢。现在几点了？”

'Three o'clock. Let us go. How baking it is! This conversation has set all my blood aflame. There was a moment when you, too, …I am not an artist for nothing; I observe everything. Confess, you are interested in a woman? '

“正好三点。我们走吧。天气实在是太热啦！这次谈话令我热血沸腾。以前某个时候你也……怪不得我是搞艺术这行的，我观察着一切呢。坦白说，你是不是喜欢上哪个女人了？”

Shubin tried to get a look at Bersenyev's face, but he turned away and walked out of the lime—tree's shade. Shubin went after him, moving his little feet with easy grace. Bersenyev walked clumsily, with his shoulders high and his neck craned forward. Yet, he looked a man of finer breeding than Shubin; more of a gentleman, one might say, if that word had not been so vulgarised among us.

舒宾原本想瞧瞧别尔谢涅夫的脸色，但他已经转过身，走出了菩提树的树阴。舒宾从容优雅地移动着小脚跟在他的后面。而别尔谢涅夫走起路来却很笨拙，肩膀高耸，脖子前伸。然而他看起来却比舒宾更有教养，比他更像个绅士，如果这个词语在我们这里还不是那么庸俗的话，我们就可以这样说。