自译 契诃夫短篇小说 才女

A PINK STOCKING 才女

原作契诃夫 Translated by Constance Garnett 1886

A DULL, rainy day. The sky is completely covered with heavy clouds, and there is no prospect of the rain ceasing. Outside sleet, puddles, and drenched jackdaws. Indoors it is half dark, and so cold that one wants the stove heated.

在一个沉闷的雨天，外面浓云密布，阴雨连绵，下起来没完没了。雨夹杂着雪花在空中飞舞，打湿了寒鸦的羽毛，填满了地上的水洼。屋子里半明半昏，冷得想让人把炉子点上。

Pavel Petrovitch Somov is pacing up and down his study, grumbling at the weather. The tears of rain on the windows and the darkness of the room make him depressed. He is insufferably bored and has nothing to do.... The newspapers have not been brought yet; shooting is out of the question, and it is not nearly dinner-time....

周文茂在书房里来回走着，为天气发着牢骚。家里昏昏暗暗的，雨滴时不时从窗前滑落，此情此景使得他意志消沉。他无事可做，没劲透了……今儿的报纸还没送来，出去打猎也不是时候，这会儿又不到饭点……

Somov is not alone in his study. Madame Somov, a pretty little lady in a light blouse and pink stockings, is sitting at his writing table. She is eagerly scribbling a letter. Every time he passes her as he strides up and down, Ivan Petrovitch looks over her shoulder at what she is writing. He sees big sprawling letters, thin and narrow, with all sorts of tails and flourishes. There are numbers of blots, smears, and finger-marks. Madame Somov does not like ruled paper, and every line runs downhill with horrid wriggles as it reaches the margin....

周太太也在书房。周太太生得娇小玲珑，上着一件浅色衬衫，腿上套着粉色长袜，正坐在书桌旁兴致勃勃地写信。周先生时不时走到她身后，瞅一眼她在写什么。纸上写满了大大小小、歪歪扭扭、潦潦草草的字，还沾上了五花八门的墨渍、油污和手指印。周太太向来不用格子纸，结果每行字都歪扭七八地写成了斜坡，都快写到桌子上了……

“Lidotchka, who is it you are writing such a lot to?” Somov inquires, seeing that his wife is just beginning to scribble the sixth page.

“小丽，这是给谁写信哪？”周先生问道，周太太正写到第六页。

“To sister Varya.”

“给我妹妹写的。”

“Hm... it’s a long letter! I’m so bored — let me read it!”

“嚯，这么一大篇！我看看行吗？反正闲着也是闲着。”

“Here, you may read it, but there’s nothing interesting in it.”

“喏，看吧，就是唠唠家常。”

Somov takes the written pages and, still pacing up and down, begins reading. Lidotchka leans her elbows on the back of her chair and watches the expression of his face.... After the first page his face lengthens and an expression of something almost like panic comes into it.... At the third page Somov frowns and scratches the back of his head. At the fourth he pauses, looks with a scared face at his wife, and seems to ponder. After thinking a little, he takes up the letter again with a sigh.... His face betrays perplexity and even alarm. . . .

周先生接过信，一边读着一边来回溜达。周太太把胳膊搭在椅背上，观察着丈夫的脸色……读完第一页，周先生拉长了脸，神情好像有点慌张……读完第三页，周先生皱起了眉，挠着后脑勺。读完第四页他停下了，惶恐地看了周太太一眼，显然心里有事。不一会儿他叹了口气，又接着往下读……他神色困惑，甚至有几分惊恐……

“Well, this is beyond anything!” he mutters, as he finishes reading the letter and flings the sheets on the table, “It’s positively incredible!”

“不像话！”他读完了信，嘟囔着把信纸摔在书桌上，“太不像话了！”

“What’s the matter?” asks Lidotchka, flustered.

“怎么了？”周太太连忙问道。

“What’s the matter! You’ve covered six pages, wasted a good two hours scribbling, and there’s nothing in it at all! If there were one tiny idea! One reads on and on, and one’s brain is as muddled as though one were deciphering the Chinese wriggles on tea chests! Ough!”

“怎么了？怎么了？我的天，你花了两个钟头写了六页废话啊！你这信有什么内容？有什么意义？我看了半天把我脑子都看糊涂了！你写的是人话吗？啊？”

“Yes, that’s true, Vanya, . . .” says Lidotchka, reddening. “I wrote it carelessly. . . .”

“别这么大气啊，文茂……”周太太脸红了，惭愧道，“我就是随便写写……”

“Queer sort of carelessness! In a careless letter there is some meaning and style — there is sense in it —while yours... excuse me, but I don’t know what to call it! It’s absolute twaddle! There are words and sentences, but not the slightest sense in them. Your whole letter is exactly like the conversation of two boys: ‘We had pancakes to-day! And we had a soldier come to see us!’ You say the same thing over and over again! You drag it out, repeat yourself.... The wretched ideas dance about like devils: there’s no making out where anything begins, where anything ends.... How can you write like that?”

“随便写写？你这不叫随便写写，你这叫浪费纸！人家写得再随便也能看出点意思，可你写得…唉，怎么说你！你这叫胡写！乱写！你这字是字，话是话，连在一块什么内容都没有。识字班的小学生也比你强！你这叫车轱辘话来回转，翻来覆去说的都是同一件事！你也不嫌累，说来说去说来说去……写得还没头没尾的，谁知道哪儿是开始，哪儿是结束……你说你怎么写的？”

“If I had been writing carefully,” Lidotchka says in self defence, “then there would not have been mistakes. . . .”

“都说了我没认真写嘛，”周太太辩解道，“我仔细点肯定就没那么多错了……”

“Oh, I’m not talking about mistakes! The awful grammatical howlers! There’s not a line that’s not a personal insult to grammar! No stops nor commas — and the spelling... brrr! ‘Earth’ has an a in it!! And the writing! It’s desperate! I’m not joking, Lida.... I’m surprised and appalled at your letter.... You mustn’t be angry, darling, but, really, I had no idea you were such a duffer at grammar.... And yet you belong to a cultivated, well-educated circle: you are the wife of a University man, and the daughter of a general! Tell me, did you ever go to school?”

“你还好意思提错！你哪一行没个错！不加标点，不会空行，满篇错别字……我的亲娘嘞！‘好的’的‘的’是白勺的，不是白匀的！我算是开了眼了，哪儿有你这么写的！我说小丽啊，你太过分了……你这封信差点没把我气死……说句难听的，你要是认识字天下就没有文盲了……你这还是受过教育、知书达礼的人啊！你嫁了个大学教授，你爸又在部队当干部，你怎么就这点出息？你到底上没上过学？”

“What next! I finished at the Von Mebke’s boarding school. . . .”

“你留点口德吧！我在慧文毕的业……”

Somov shrugs his shoulders and continues to pace up and down, sighing. Lidotchka, conscious of her ignorance and ashamed of it, sighs too and casts down her eyes.... Ten minutes pass in silence.

周先生耸耸肩，又来回溜达上了，嘴里的叹息一刻不停。周太太自知道学问太浅，丢丑了，也止不住地叹气，眼泪哗哗地掉……十分钟过去，俩人一句话没说。

“You know, Lidotchka, it really is awful!” says Somov, suddenly halting in front of her and looking into her face with horror. “You are a mother... do you understand? A mother! How can you teach your children if you know nothing yourself? You have a good brain, but what’s the use of it if you have never mastered the very rudiments of knowledge? There — never mind about knowledge... the children will get that at school, but, you know, you are very shaky on the moral side too! You sometimes use such language that it makes my ears tingle!”

“小丽，你怎么能这样呢？”周先生突然在她面前站定，惊慌失措地望着她，“你都是当妈的人了…你知道吗？啊？你这样怎么教孩子？你脑筋再好，连最起码的知识都不懂还有什么用？得，不说知识了……知识有老师教，关键你思想品德上问题也不小啊！你看看你用的都是什么词，正经人有说那些话的吗？”

Somov shrugs his shoulders again, wraps himself in the folds of his dressing-gown and continues his pacing.... He feels vexed and injured, and at the same time sorry for Lidotchka, who does not protest, but merely blinks.... Both feel oppressed and miserable.... Absorbed in their woes, they do not notice how time is passing and the dinner hour is approaching.

周先生又一声长叹，把睡袍一裹继续来回溜达……他很生气，很受伤，又心疼连句话也不说、光会眨眼的周太太……夫妻俩都觉得委屈，难过……就这么难过着难过着，不知不觉到了饭点。

Sitting down to dinner, Somov, who is fond of good eating and of eating in peace, drinks a large glass of vodka and begins talking about something else. Lidotchka listens and assents, but suddenly over the soup her eyes fill with tears and she begins whimpering.

周先生是个好吃的主儿，坐到饭桌上，干掉一口杯白酒，他又聊起了别的话题。周太太一旁附和着，却突然哭了出来，泪水滴进了汤里。

“It’s all mother’s fault!” she says, wiping away her tears with her dinner napkin. “Everyone advised her to send me to the high school, and from the high school I should have been sure to go on to the University!”

“都怨我妈！”她拿餐巾揩着眼泪，说道，“人家都劝她送我上高中，读完高中再念大学的！”

“University... high school,” mutters Somov. “That’s running to extremes, my girl! What’s the good of being a blue stocking! A blue stocking is the very deuce! Neither man nor woman, but just something midway: neither one thing nor another. . . I hate blue stockings! I would never have married a learned woman. . . .”

“大学……高中。”周先生嘀咕道，“我说你是要上天啊！你也想当什么才女不成？才女没一个好东西！既不是男人，也不算女人，什么也不是……我最讨厌的就是才女！我就是死也不娶有文化的媳妇……”

“There’s no making you out . . .,” says Lidotchka. “You are angry because I am not learned, and at the same time you hate learned women; you are annoyed because I have no ideas in my letter, and yet you yourself are opposed to my studying. . . .”

“你这个人怎么这样……”周太太说道，“我没文化你生气，有文化你也生气。我不会写信你生气，我想多学点你又不许……”

“You do catch me up at a word, my dear,” yawns Somov, pouring out a second glass of vodka in his boredom.

“有意思吗，老计较这些。”周先生打了个呵欠，闷闷无事又倒了一杯酒。

Under the influence of vodka and a good dinner, Somov grows more good-humoured, lively, and soft.... He watches his pretty wife making the salad with an anxious face and a rush of affection for her, of indulgence and forgiveness comes over him.

吃着热饭，喝着小酒，周先生的好脾气上来了……看着自己美貌的妻子在厨房忙活，一股怜爱之情油然而生。

“It was stupid of me to depress her, poor girl... ,” he thought. “Why did I say such a lot of dreadful things? She is silly, that’s true, uncivilised and narrow; but... there are two sides to the question, and audiatur et altera pars.... Perhaps people are perfectly right when they say that woman’s shallowness rests on her very vocation. Granted that it is her vocation to love her husband, to bear children, and to mix salad, what the devil does she want with learning? No, indeed!”

“我不该那么说她，看把她难过的……”他想道，“我说的都是什么话啊？她是笨，是傻，但什么事总得翻过来看吧……老话说的也有道理，女人笨是天生的。不然怎么能心甘情愿忙里忙外，相夫教子呢？学习？学习有什么用？女人就不该学习！”

At that point he remembers that learned women are usually tedious, that they are exacting, strict, and unyielding; and, on the other hand, how easy it is to get on with silly Lidotchka, who never pokes her nose into anything, does not understand so much, and never obtrudes her criticism. There is peace and comfort with Lidotchka, and no risk of being interfered with.

周先生想道，那些有文化的才女无不是没事找事的杠头，哪有小丽这么好说话。她从来不多管闲事，从来不胡思乱想，从来不说这道那。和小丽过日子很和睦，没有闹别扭的风险。

“Confound them, those clever and learned women! It’s better and easier to live with simple ones,” he thinks, as he takes a plate of chicken from Lidotchka.

“去她的才女吧！还是我家的傻丫头好。”他琢磨着，随手从小丽手中接过一盘烧鸡。

He recollects that a civilised man sometimes feels a desire to talk and share his thoughts with a clever and well-educated woman. “What of it?” thinks Somov. “If I want to talk of intellectual subjects, I’ll go to Natalya Andreyevna... or to Marya Frantsovna.... It’s very simple! But no, I shan’t go. One can discuss intellectual subjects with men,” he finally decides.

他又想道，男人有时候也想和博学多才的女人交流一下想法。“何必呢？”他心想，“想聊点深刻的找几个女教授不就得了，多大点事。嗨，算了吧。这种事和男的聊聊就好了。”他决定道。