自译 契诃夫短篇小说 谎言

THE DOCTOR 谎言

原作契诃夫 Translated by Constance Garnett 1887

IT was still in the drawing-room, so still that a house-fly that had flown in from outside could be distinctly heard brushing against the ceiling. Olga Ivanovna, the lady of the villa, was standing by the window, looking out at the flower-beds and thinking. Dr. Tsvyetkov, who was her doctor as well as an old friend, and had been sent for to treat her son Misha, was sitting in an easy chair and swinging his hat, which he held in both hands, and he too was thinking. Except them, there was not a soul in the drawing-room or in the adjoining rooms. The sun had set, and the shades of evening began settling in the corners under the furniture and on the cornices.

客厅很静，静得能听到苍蝇在天花板爬过的声音。万紫英站在窗边，望着自家的花坛出神。叶大夫在一旁坐着，手里摆弄着帽子，也在埋头沉思，他不光是来给阳阳治病的大夫，更是万女士的一位老友。客厅里只有他俩，毗邻的房间空无一人。太阳落山了，屋里渐渐暗了下去。

The silence was broken by Olga Ivanovna.

万紫英率先打破了沉默。

“No misfortune more terrible can be imagined,” she said, without turning from the window. “You know that life has no value for me whatever apart from the boy.”

“活着还有什么意思。”她望着窗外说道，“阳阳走了我也不活了。”

“Yes, I know that,” said the doctor.

“英子。”叶大夫说道。

“No value whatever,” said Olga Ivanovna, and her voice quivered. “He is everything to me. He is my joy, my happiness, my wealth. And if, as you say, I cease to be a mother, if he... dies, there will be nothing left of me but a shadow. I cannot survive it.”

“还活个什么劲。”万紫英的声音颤抖着，“他是我的命，我的命根子。要是他真的…走了，我在这世上也没盼头了。我死了算了。”

Wringing her hands, Olga Ivanovna walked from one window to the other and went on:

万紫英两手紧扣，又走到另一扇窗前，继续道：

“When he was born, I wanted to send him away to the Foundling Hospital, you remember that, but, my God, how can that time be compared with now? Then I was vulgar, stupid, feather-headed, but now I am a mother, do you understand? I am a mother, and that’s all I care to know. Between the present and the past there is an impassable gulf.”

“你还记得吧，阳阳刚生下来的时候我还想把他送去孤儿所，唉，今非昔比啊。那时候我就是个傻丫头，可现在我是当妈的人了，你明白吗？我是他妈妈，他就是我的命。现在不是从前了。”

Silence followed again. The doctor shifted his seat from the chair to the sofa and impatiently playing with his hat, kept his eyes fixed upon Olga Ivanovna. From his face it could be seen that he wanted to speak, and was waiting for a fitting moment.

沉默重临。叶大夫换了个座位，焦急地摆弄着帽子，一刻不停地望着紫英。看得出他有话想说，只是在等待时机。

“You are silent, but still I do not give up hope,” said the lady, turning round. “Why are you silent?”

“你怎么不说话。没事，我不会死心的。”万紫英转过身，说道，“你说句话啊。”

“I should be as glad of any hope as you, Olga, but there is none,” Tsvyetkov answered, “we must look the hideous truth in the face. The boy has a tumour on the brain, and we must try to prepare ourselves for his death, for such cases never recover.”

“英子，别犟了。”叶自珍答道，“睁开眼看看吧。你儿子长了脑瘤，他没救了，还是早做准备吧。”

 “Nikolay, are you certain you are not mistaken?”

“自珍，你是不是弄错了？”

“Such questions lead to nothing. I am ready to answer as many as you like, but it will make it no better for us.”

“别犟了。你问多少次我也是这句话，就别再自欺欺人了。”

Olga Ivanovna pressed her face into the window curtains, and began weeping bitterly. The doctor got up and walked several times up and down the drawing-room, then went to the weeping woman, and lightly touched her arm. Judging from his uncertain movements, from the expression of his gloomy face, which looked dark in the dusk of the evening, he wanted to say something.

万紫英把脸埋进窗帘，凄惨地痛哭着。叶大夫站起身，在屋里来回走了几圈，这才走到窗边的泪人身旁，轻轻拽了拽她的胳膊。从他那踌躇不定的动作、阴沉如黄昏的面色不难看出，他一定有话要说。

“Listen, Olga,” he began. “Spare me a minute’s attention; there is something I must ask you. You can’t attend to me now, though. I’ll come later, afterwards. . . .” He sat down again, and sank into thought. The bitter, imploring weeping, like the weeping of a little girl, continued. Without waiting for it to end, Tsvyetkov heaved a sigh and walked out of the drawing-room. He went into the nursery to Misha. The boy was lying on his back as before, staring at one point as though he were listening. The doctor sat down on his bed and felt his pulse.

“英子，别哭了。”他开口道，“听我说句话。我有件事想问你。算了，你还是先静静吧，等你静下来我再问……”他又坐了回去，默默沉思着。窗边那凄惨、哀求、像小女孩一样的哭声绵绵不休。叶自珍等不下去了，他叹了口气，走出客厅，来到阳阳的房间。孩子仍躺在床上，眼神涣散地呆望着。叶大夫坐到床边，给孩子把了把脉。

“Misha, does your head ache?” he asked.

“头还疼吗，阳阳？”他问道。

Misha answered, not at once: “Yes. I keep dreaming.”

阳阳过了一会儿才回答道：“疼。我老做梦。”

“What do you dream?”

“你梦见什么了？”

“All sorts of things. . . .”

“好多东西……”

The doctor, who did not know how to talk with weeping women or with children, stroked his burning head, and muttered:

叶自珍不知道女人哭了该怎么哄，也不会和孩子说话。他摸了摸阳阳滚烫的额头，低语道：

“Never mind, poor boy, never mind.... One can’t go through life without illness.... Misha, who am I — do you know me?”

“没事的，孩子，没事……谁一辈子还没个病呢……阳阳，你认得我吗？你看看我是谁？”

Misha did not answer.

阳阳没有回答。

“Does your head ache very badly?”

“头疼得厉害吗？”

“Ve-ery. I keep dreaming.”

“疼，疼。我老是做梦。”

After examining him and putting a few questions to the maid who was looking after the sick child, the doctor went slowly back to the drawing-room. There it was by now dark, and Olga Ivanovna, standing by the window, looked like a silhouette.

叶大夫做了一番检查，向照顾阳阳的女佣问了问情况，又缓缓回到了客厅。客厅里已经是漆黑一片，万紫英仍守在窗边，宛如一幅剪影。

“Shall I light up?” asked Tsvyetkov.

“要开灯吗？”叶自珍问道。

No answer followed. The house-fly was still brushing against the ceiling. Not a sound floated in from outside as though the whole world, like the doctor, were thinking, and could not bring itself to speak. Olga Ivanovna was not weeping now, but as before, staring at the flower-bed in profound silence. When Tsvyetkov went up to her, and through the twilight glanced at her pale face, exhausted with grief, her expression was such as he had seen before during her attacks of acute, stupefying, sick headache.

没人应答。天花板上仍传来苍蝇的嗡鸣。外面静悄悄的，仿佛整个世界都成了哑巴，就和叶大夫一样。万紫英不哭了，却依旧默默不语地望着花坛。叶大夫走上前，在余晖中望见她苍白的脸，上面写满了疲惫与悲伤，这样的神情让他回想起她从前闹头疼病的时候。

“Nikolay Trofimitch!” she addressed him, “and what do you think about a consultation?”

“自珍！”她说道，“你能不能再找个大夫来？”

“Very good; I’ll arrange it to-morrow.”

“可以。明天我帮你安排。”

From the doctor’s tone it could be easily seen that he put little faith in the benefit of a consultation. Olga Ivanovna would have asked him something else, but her sobs prevented her. Again she pressed her face into the window curtain. At that moment, the strains of a band playing at the club floated in distinctly. They could hear not only the wind instruments, but even the violins and the flutes.

叶大夫的语气摆明了再找多少人也无济于事。万紫英想说些什么，却被抽泣噎了回去。她又扑进了窗帘里。就在这时，远处传来一班乐队的演奏。不光听得见管乐的声音，就连小提琴和笛子的响声也清晰可闻。

“If he is in pain, why is he silent?” asked Olga Ivanovna. “All day long, not a sound, he never complains, and never cries. I know God will take the poor boy from us because we have not known how to prize him. Such a treasure!”

“他既然知道疼怎么连句话也不说？”万紫英问道，“这一整天别说哭了，他连哎哟都没哎哟一声。大概是老天爱这孩子，存心要和咱们抢。多好的孩子啊！”

The band finished the march, and a minute later began playing a lively waltz for the opening of the ball.

乐队演奏完进行曲，又重奏起一支快活的舞曲，给跳舞的人助兴。

“Good God, can nothing really be done?” moaned Olga Ivanovna. “Nikolay, you are a doctor and ought to know what to do! You must understand that I can’t bear the loss of him! I can’t survive it.”

“什么叫没办法了？”万紫英悲吟道，“自珍，你是大夫，你一定有办法的！我不能没有他！我不能没有他啊。”

The doctor, who did not know how to talk to weeping women, heaved a sigh, and paced slowly about the drawing-room. There followed a succession of oppressive pauses interspersed with weeping and the questions which lead to nothing. The band had already played a quadrille, a polka, and another quadrille. It got quite dark. In the adjoining room, the maid lighted the lamp; and all the while the doctor kept his hat in his hands, and seemed trying to say something. Several times Olga Ivanovna went off to her son, sat by him for half an hour, and came back again into the drawing-room; she was continually breaking into tears and lamentations. The time dragged agonisingly, and it seemed as though the evening had no end.

面对痛哭流涕的万紫英，叶大夫无能为力地叹了声气，缓缓在客厅里来回走着。这期间一声声哭号、一句句徒劳的质问不绝于耳。乐队已奏完了三首曲子。天黑了。女佣在邻屋点上了灯，叶大夫一直紧握着帽子，显然有话要说。万紫英去看了阳阳好几次，一陪就是半个钟头，眼里的泪水就没断过。时间拖沓地往前磨蹭着，这一个夜晚仿佛绵绵无尽。

At midnight, when the band had played the cotillion and ceased altogether, the doctor got ready to go.

午夜时分，连乐队都散场了，叶大夫起身准备告辞。

“I will come again to-morrow,” he said, pressing the mother’s cold hand. “You go to bed.”

“早点休息吧。”他握了握万紫英冰凉的手，说道，“我明天再来。”

After putting on his greatcoat in the passage and picking up his walking-stick, he stopped, thought a minute, and went back into the drawing-room.

在走廊穿好外套，拿上拐杖，叶自珍停下来想了一会儿，又回到了客厅。

“I’ll come to-morrow, Olga,” he repeated in a quivering voice. “Do you hear?”

“英子，我明天再来。”他声音颤抖着重复道，“英子你听见了吗？”

She did not answer, and it seemed as though grief had robbed her of all power of speech. In his greatcoat and with his stick still in his hand, the doctor sat down beside her, and began in a soft, tender half-whisper, which was utterly out of keeping with his heavy, dignified figure:

万紫英一言不发，悲伤已然耗尽了她说话的力气。叶大夫坐到她身边，一反他高大威严的形象，柔声细语地说道：

“Olga! For the sake of your sorrow which I share.... Now, when falsehood is criminal, I beseech you to tell me the truth. You have always declared that the boy is my son. Is that the truth?”

“英子！你难过，我跟你一样难过……看在我这么难过的份上，我求你不要再骗我了。你老说阳阳是我儿子，这是真的吗？”

Olga Ivanovna was silent.

万紫英默不作声。

“You have been the one attachment in my life,” the doctor went on, “and you cannot imagine how deeply my feeling is wounded by falsehood.... Come, I entreat you, Olga, for once in your life, tell me the truth.... At these moments one cannot lie. Tell me that Misha is not my son. I am waiting.”

“我这辈子只有你一个女人。”叶自珍继续道，“你知道你骗我把我伤得有多深吗……英子，我求你，你跟我说一次实话……生死关头人是不会撒谎的。老实告诉我阳阳不是我儿子。你说。”

“He is.”

“他是。”

Olga Ivanovna’s face could not be seen, but in her voice the doctor could hear hesitation. He sighed.

叶大夫看不见万紫英的脸，但听得出她声音里的犹豫。他长叹一声。

“Even at such moments you can bring yourself to tell a lie,” he said in his ordinary voice. “There is nothing sacred to you! Do listen, do understand me.... You have been the one only attachment in my life. Yes, you were depraved, vulgar, but I have loved no one else but you in my life. That trivial love, now that I am growing old, is the one solitary bright spot in my memories. Why do you darken it with deception? What is it for?”

“都这时候了你还要撒谎。”他又回到平常的语气，“你难道一点良知都不顾吗！听我说，英子……我这辈子只爱过你一个人。是，你当时很疯，很野，可我心里除了你装不下别人。现在想想，我这一生只有跟你在一起的日子是值得的。可你为什么要用谎言去玷污它？为什么？”

“I don’t understand you.”

“我没有。”

“Oh my God!” cried Tsvyetkov. “You are lying, you understand very well!” he cried more loudly, and he began pacing about the drawing-room, angrily waving his stick. “Or have you forgotten? Then I will remind you! A father’s rights to the boy are equally shared with me by Petrov and Kurovsky the lawyer, who still make you an allowance for their son’s education, just as I do! Yes, indeed! I know all that quite well! I forgive your lying in the past, what does it matter? But now when you have grown older, at this moment when the boy is dying, your lying stifles me! How sorry I am that I cannot speak, how sorry I am!”

“你真敢说！”叶自珍喊道，“你还没骗够吗！”他吼得更大声了，气得在屋里走来走去，手里挥舞着拐杖，“是不是还要我提醒提醒你？你听好！阳阳的抚养权是由我、裴先生和孔律师共同承担的，你儿子上学花的不光是我的钱，还有那两个人的钱！听见了吧！我知道，我全都知道！你以前做过的事我从来没追究过，对吧？可是这么多年过去了你还要撒谎，你儿子都快死了你还在撒谎，我不想再听你骗下去了！我，我说你什么好！说你什么好！”

The doctor unbuttoned his overcoat, and still pacing about, said:

叶自珍解开外衣扣，继续徘徊着，说道：

“Wretched woman! Even such moments have no effect on her! Even now she lies as freely as nine years ago in the Hermitage Restaurant! She is afraid if she tells me the truth I shall leave off giving her money, she thinks that if she did not lie I should not love the boy! You are lying! It’s contemptible!”

“无耻！事到如今你还嘴硬！九年了，你足足骗了我九年了！你不就是怕我知道了不给你钱，怕我知道阳阳不是我的就不爱这孩子了吗！骗子！你可恨！可恶！”

The doctor rapped the floor with his stick, and cried:

叶自珍用拐杖猛砸着地板，怒吼道：

“It’s loathsome. Warped, corrupted creature! I must despise you, and I ought to be ashamed of my feeling. Yes! Your lying has stuck in my throat these nine years, I have endured it, but now it’s too much — too much.”

“我瞎了眼了，我怎么会看上你这么个人！呸！你这句谎在我心里堵了九年，我忍得够多了，我不想忍了——我不想忍了。”

From the dark corner where Olga Ivanovna was sitting there came the sound of weeping. The doctor ceased speaking and cleared his throat. A silence followed. The doctor slowly buttoned up his over-coat, and began looking for his hat which he had dropped as he walked about.

从万紫英所在的墙角传来一阵痛哭。叶自珍打住了，清了清嗓。随后是一阵沉默。叶自珍缓缓把扣子系好，寻找起刚才不小心丢掉的帽子。

“I lost my temper,” he muttered, bending down to the floor. “I quite lost sight of the fact that you cannot attend to me now.... God knows what I have said.... Don’t take any notice of it, Olga.”

“我错了。”他弯下腰，嘀咕道，“我应该让你再静静的……英子，我那些话你别放在心上。”

He found his hat and went towards the dark corner.

他捡起帽子，走向漆黑的墙角。

“I have wounded you,” he said in a soft, tender half-whisper, “but once more I entreat you, tell me the truth; there should not be lying between us.... I blurted it out, and now you know that Petrov and Kurovsky are no secret to me. So now it is easy for you to tell me the truth.”

“是我不好。”他又换回温柔的语气，“我再求你一次，说实话，咱们之间没必要撒谎……刚才我说漏嘴了，那两个人的事你也不用再瞒着我了。现在话都说开了，求你把实话告诉我吧。”

Olga Ivanovna thought a moment, and with perceptible hesitation, said:

万紫英想了一会儿，迟疑地说道：

“Nikolay, I am not lying — Misha is your child.”

“自珍，我没骗你，阳阳是你儿子。”

“My God,” moaned the doctor, “then I will tell you something more: I have kept your letter to Petrov in which you call him Misha’s father! Olga, I know the truth, but I want to hear it from you! Do you hear?”

“你还骗我！”叶自珍低吼道，“好，我再跟你说个事：我手上可有你写给姓裴的一封信，你亲口说阳阳是他儿子！英子，是怎么回事我全知道了，我只不过想听你亲口承认而已！说句实话就这么难吗？”

Olga Ivanovna made no reply, but went on weeping. After waiting for an answer the doctor shrugged his shoulders and went out.

万紫英一言不发，又抽泣起来。叶自珍等了一会儿不耐烦了，耸耸肩走了出去。

“I will come to-morrow,” he called from the passage.

“我明天再来。”他在走廊说道。

All the way home, as he sat in his carriage, he was shrugging his shoulders and muttering:

回家的路上，他坐在马车里一直嘀咕着：

“What a pity that I don’t know how to speak! I haven’t the gift of persuading and convincing. It’s evident she does not understand me since she lies! It’s evident! How can I make her see? How?”

“我嘴怎么这么笨！我要是争得过她就好了。她明明就是在撒谎！这谁看不出来！我怎么点醒她呢？怎么办哪？”