英文
Chapter VI Fortunate Misfortune
OTHER people's holidays come when the summer comes; but a governess stays at her post most of the year. She is even more useful when the boys come home, and little girls need getting out of bed winter and summer. Manya was bored. Nothing ever happened. Tomorrow was always twin sister to yesterday—work from eight to half-past eleven, work from two to half-past seven, walk and lunch from half-past eleven to two. In the evening, it was reading aloud to Andzia if she had been good; sewing and talking if she had not. At nine o'clock at last came freedom to read her own books and to study. But even then she was liable to be interrupted to do one of the hundred and one things required of a governess. For instance, Andzia's godfather needed someone to play chess with him and the governess would do quite well; or a fourth was wanted at whist and it did not matter if the governess liked whist or not. Manya grew hungrier for knowledge as the chance of it slipped farther and farther away. Her books were old fashioned and there was no one with whom she could discuss her difficulties. She hadn't an idea what she was going to do. She thought with envy of the thousands of girls flocking to colleges the world over, meeting the choice and master spirits of their age, being taught and working in laboratories. Vienna, Berlin, London, St. Petersburg, especially Paris, seemed so many Meccas to her! No, not Vienna, Berlin or St. Petersburg for they were the capitals of Poland's oppressors. But London and Paris! She was wild with longing to go to Paris, free generous Paris that oppressed no one, but welcomed exiles and invited everyone to come to her who wanted to think, who wanted to know. Despair was getting hold of Manya. It was so hard to work alone. Her money accumulated so intolerably slowly and Bronia would need help for so many years. Her father also would be wanting her to take care of him when he was really old. Would Manya ever get to the university?
She had grown deliciously pretty. Her broad, lofty brow had all the sternness taken from it by her ravishing, burnished hair; her grey eyes deepset under well-marked eyebrows seemed very large and gazed at one with gay and penetrating understanding; her wilful mouth with a suggestion of a smile forced one to look and think twice. Her skin was like a very peach. She was graceful, with exquisite wrists and ankles; and best of all her thoughtfulness gave her just that touch of mystery which makes people always want to know a girl.
Casimir, the eldest son of the house, was glad to find Manya there when he came home for the holidays. He came across her snipping off dead roses in the lovely garden. He had heard about her from his sister's letters, but he hadn't believed in her, and didn't he know all about the whole dull race of governesses?
“But… By the sword of Poland!” he exclaimed to himself, “This one is different!”
“You have given your ragged school a holiday this morning, Mademoiselle?”
“Oh, no!” said Manya, her face alive with interest as usual. “They don't come till five, when their other work, whatever it may be, is done.”
So, thought Manya, this was Bronka's adored brother, this tall, handsome, charming-mannered student, who spoke to her so friendlily and went on to take so lively an interest in her pupils whom he would insist on calling her “ragged school.”
That evening she did not go at nine to her heavy books. There was far more to be learnt by real talk with a university student about the subjects he was studying. To-morrow lost its resemblance to yesterday. Summer broke the order of work. Casimir insisted on boating picnics and Manya was especially good at the oar. She rode so that it was a delight to watch her and there was no lack of horses in the stable. There were some forty to choose from and the three chose well and rode whole days across the endless plain. There were driving picnics also and Casimir noticed that Manya's delicate wrists handled the reins of the second wagonette with skill. Casimir had sprained his left thumb so that the coachman had to drive his mother and the babies in the first wagonette.
Among the endless “geese” whom Casimir had hitherto met, none had the talk and mystery of this strange girl. When he returned to Warsaw for the autumn, he longed for Christmas.
“It ought always to be winter, Mademoiselle,” he said. And to Manya's unsuspecting “No! Why?” he laughed. “Aren't we told to worship beauty and is there anything lovelier than a girl with perfect ankles skating gracefully? And then there are the dances! You who dance so well, don't you love them and the long sledge drives under winter stars?”
Yes, Manya had returned to loving dancing, but still she preferred the summer—the summer holidays.
“The holidays? When I am here?”
Casimir had long guessed her answer. He said that he would go to his father at once. People did not generally marry governesses, but Manya was different, so entirely different. Everyone in his home loved her; his father chose her for his walking companion; his mother introduced her to all her friends; his sister adored her. They had often invited her father, her brother and her sister to stay in the home; they showered presents and flowers on her on her birthday; they were surely just waiting to welcome her with delight as a new daughter.
But about that, Casimir was mistaken. When he told his parents that he wanted to marry Manya, his father was furious and his mother nearly fainted. Should their eldest son, he on whom all their hopes were fixed, who could bring home as bride the richest, noblest girl of all the country, should he marry a penniless governess? Marry a woman who earned her living by selling her work in other people's houses!
“Casimir, you're mad! People don't marry governesses !”
“People don't marry governesses! What a good thing!” hummed the old Earth as it whizzed round the Sun bringing Summer after Winter and Marie Curie for all of us instead of Madame Manya Casimir Z—.
But Manya who could not foresee the future, was very unhappy. Everyone in the house grew cold to her; yet she could not throw up her post and go away, because she had to send Bronia twenty pounds a year. All she could do was to make up her mind that never, never again would she ever love any man. All the tomorrows took on again their resemblance to all the yesterdays. She gave her lessons, scolded Andzia, shook Julek awake, because every book sent him to sleep, taught her ragged school, read chemistry, played chess, danced, walked. Only one thing sometimes introduced a little excitement: the roads were so badly marked that they would disappear entirely under the snow and the sleigh and its occupants would find themselves buried in a snow-filled ditch. On such occasions, laughter would bring back some of the old gay friendliness.
At that time, her letters home grew longer, but she often hadn't a stamp to send them with or the money to buy one. “I haven't heard from Bronia,” she complained, “but perhaps she hasn't a stamp either.” Because of her own sadness she was more able to enter into the troubles of her father, her brother and Hela. To her father she wrote: “Don't worry about us; you have done everything a father could do for us; after all, haven't you given us quite nice characters? We'll be able to earn a living all right, you'll see.” And to her brother: “Joseph, borrow a hundred roubles and stay in Warsaw. Don't bury yourself in the country and don't be angry if I do give you advice. Remember our agreement to say anything that comes into our heads. Everybody thinks that to practise in the country would be to bury yourself in a hole and have no career. A doctor without a chemist's shop, a hospital or books will just become a dud, however good his resolutions maybe. If that happened to you, darling, I should be desperately unhappy, because now that I have lost all hope of ever being anything myself, all my ambition is fixed on you and Bronia. You mustn't bury the gifts that our family undoubtedly possess. They must come out in one of us. The more I despair about myself, the more I hope for you.” Manya was also feeling great sympathy for Hela, who had been given up by her lover, and great indignation against young men in general: “Truly,” she wrote, “one is learning to have a good opinion of people! If they don't want to marry poor girls, they can go to the devil. No one asks them to do it, but why fall in love with them and then upset them?”
It was a bad moment in Manya's life. She said she was afraid she was catching stupidity from her pupils, which is a fear that comes to many teachers. Her great dreams seemed foolish. “The only dream I have now,” she wrote, “is to have a corner of my own where I can live with my father. to get a little independence and a home, I would give half my life. If by any possibility I can leave Z—s, which does not seem very likely, I will get a post in a boarding school in Warsaw and earn a little extra by private lessons. That's all I hope for. Life isn't worth bothering so much about.” It was, indeed, a bad moment. But a novel called On the Banks of the Niemen fortunately reminded her that ideas like that were not the real Manya. “Where have my dreams gone?”she wrote to Bronia. “I wanted to work for the people, and I have scarcely been able to teach a dzen village boys and girls to read. As to awakening in them a thought of what they are and of what they might do in the world! You couldn't dream of such a thing. Life is hard. I am becoming so mean, so common. Then suddenly a book like this novel gives me a shock and I am miserable about it all.” At the same time she wrote to her cousin: “I am in a black humour, for our daily company are frightful west winds, seasoned with rain, floods and mud. There's not a thought of frost and my skates hang sadly in the wardrobe. Perhaps you don't know that in our small hole frost and its advantages are as important as a debate between Conservatives and Liberals in Galicia! Don't think that your tales bore me. On the contrary it is a true delight to hear that there are places on the earth's surface where people move and even think! I feel things violently with a physical violence! Then I shake myself and get back to myself out of a nightmare and tell myself ‘Don't be crushed either by people or by events.’ But the need of new impressions, of change, of movement seizes me at moments with such force that I want to do something utterly, utterly foolish to put an end to this eternal sameness. Happily I have so much work that this folly doesn't get hold of me often.”
中文
第六章 不幸中的万幸
夏天来临，其他人都放暑假了，但家庭教师一年到头都要坚守岗位。男孩们放假回家、女孩们在酷暑寒冬要起床的时候，玛妮雅的作用就显得格外突出。玛妮雅厌倦了这一切。生活没有一丝变化。明天不过是昨天的复制粘贴——早上从八点工作到十一点半，下午从两点到七点半，中午十一点半到两点是午餐及散步时间。晚上，如果安迪亚表现好就给她读书；表现不好的话，玛妮雅就做些针线活儿，顺便和她聊聊天。晚上九点才终于迎来了属于自己的自由时间，可以读书学习。不过就算这时，她也经常被打断，去做一些家庭教师要做的杂七杂八的小事。比如，安迪亚的教父让她陪着下棋；打牌三缺一，才不会管家庭教师到底喜不喜欢玩牌。玛妮雅对知识越来越如饥似渴，因为学习的机会越来越少。她的书已经陈旧过时，也没有人能听她倾诉自己的痛苦。她不知道自己该怎么办。她羡慕世界各地那些能自由上学的女孩，面临这个年龄该有的选择，接触大师们的先进思想，在实验室里学习和工作。维也纳、柏林、伦敦、圣彼得堡，尤其是巴黎，简直就是玛妮雅心中的神圣殿堂！不，不能是维也纳、柏林或圣彼得堡，它们可是波兰压迫者们的首都。但伦敦和巴黎可以！她极度向往巴黎，自由包容的巴黎不会压迫任何人，反而张开怀抱欢迎流亡的异乡人，拥抱那些渴求知识的人们。玛妮雅感到了深深的绝望。独自一人努力拼搏太过辛苦。存钱的速度极度缓慢， 布朗尼娅用钱的日子还长。父亲以后年老体衰了还需要她来照顾。玛妮雅还能去上大学吗？
玛妮雅已经出落得明媚动人。一头光滑迷人的秀发，宽阔高挺的额头，显露出无比的坚毅；精心勾勒的眉毛下嵌着一双灰色的大眼睛，灵动而深邃；随性的嘴巴带着一丝浅浅的笑意，让人不由得多看几眼。她肌如桃花，优雅迷人，手腕脚腕长得十分秀气；而她的睿智聪慧更为她增加了一层神秘感，让人充满好奇，想要一探究竟。
家中的长子卡西米尔放暑假回到家，很高兴结识了玛妮雅。他第一次遇见玛妮雅，是在花园里看见她在修剪枯萎的玫瑰。他从妹妹的来信中已经听说了关于玛妮雅的事，不过他并不相信，家庭女教师难道不是乏味无聊的代言人吗？
“但是……以祖国波兰的名义发誓！” 他自语道，“这一位截然不同！”
“老师，您今早给扶贫学校放假啦？”
“没有！” 玛妮雅说，她的脸上一如既往闪现着兴奋，“他们要忙其他事，五点以后才能来上课。”
玛妮雅想这是布兰卡深爱的哥哥，眼前这位高大英俊、举止迷人的年轻学生讲话温柔友好，对她的学生甚是关心，虽然一直坚持将她创建的学校称作“扶贫学校”。
当天晚上九点钟，玛妮雅并没有像往常一样去读那些沉重的书本。能和一位大学生切身聊聊他所学的专业会让人受益良多。明日再也不是昨日的复制品了。暑期打乱了之前工作的时间安排。卡西米尔坚持要划船野餐，而玛妮雅正是划船的好手。她骑马英姿飒爽，而马圈里大有可供挑选的骏马。三人从四十多匹马中挑出自己心仪的，整日在一望无际的平原上肆意驰骋。有时，一家人也驾着马车出去野餐，卡西米尔注意到玛妮雅纤细的手腕能自如地控制另一驾马车的缰绳。卡西米尔的左手拇指扭伤了，于是车夫就只能赶着第一驾马车，载着母亲和孩子们。
卡西米尔见过无数的“呆头鹅”，没人能有玛妮雅这样的谈吐和神秘感。秋季开学，卡西米尔重回华沙，他又开始盼望冬季圣诞节能够回家。
“最好永远都是冬季。”他说。听到玛妮雅大感吃惊的回答“不好！为什么呢？”他笑了。“我们不是要崇尚美好的事物吗？还有什么比一位脚踝优美、滑冰优雅的女孩更令人愉悦的呢？还有跳舞！你舞跳得那么好，难道你不喜欢跳舞，不喜欢在冬季的星空下滑着雪橇到处穿行吗？”
是的，玛妮雅再次回归了舞会，但她还是喜欢夏季——喜欢暑期。
“暑期？我在这儿的时候？”
卡西米尔一直在猜测她的答案。他说自己立马就要去征得父亲的同意。人们通常不会娶家庭女教师，但玛妮雅与众不同，简直完全不同。家里的每个人都喜欢她：父亲邀她一同散步；母亲把她介绍给自己的朋友；他的妹妹们更是喜欢玛妮雅。家人经常邀请玛妮雅的父亲、兄弟姐妹来家里做客；玛妮雅过生日时，全家人给她送礼物、送鲜花。他们肯定满怀期待，等着玛妮雅成为自家的儿媳。
但关于这一点，卡西米尔其实大错特错。当他告知父母自己要娶玛妮雅为妻时，父亲勃然大怒，母亲几乎晕厥。他们对自己的长子寄予厚望，期待他把整个乡下最富足高贵的女孩娶回家，怎么会同意让他去娶一个一无所有的家庭女教师，去娶一个在别人家打工谋生的女人？
“卡西米尔，你疯了吧！正常人谁会娶家庭女教师！”
“谁会娶家庭女教师呀！多好笑！”整片大地都在低沉回荡着这句话。地球绕着太阳高速运转，带来春夏秋冬的四季更迭。正是如此，才有了日后的玛丽·居里，而非玛妮雅·卡西米尔·Z夫人。
但当时并不能预见未来的玛妮雅心情十分抑郁。卡西米尔的家人对她开始变得冷漠，但她还不能辞掉工作一走了之，因为她每年还要给布朗尼娅寄二十镑。她唯一能做的就是下决心再也不会爱上任何人。生活又开始重复，日复一日。她教课，批评安迪亚，叫醒朱力克（因为不管什么书都能把朱力克送入梦乡），给扶贫学校上课，读化学书，下棋，跳舞，散步。只有一件事偶尔能给她带来点欢乐：当道路的边际模糊，有时完全消失在白雪下，雪橇连人一起翻到了白雪覆盖的沟壑里。这种情况下，人们会哈哈大笑，依稀能恢复一些往日的友善和快乐。
那段时间，玛妮雅给家里写的信更长了，但经常因为没钱买邮票而无法寄出。“好久都没收到布朗尼娅的来信了，”她抱怨道，“不过可能她也没邮票吧。”基于自身的忧伤，她也更能理解父亲、哥哥和海拉面临的困境。她写信给父亲，“别担心我们，您已尽到了一位父亲应尽的责任，您不是还教会了我们善良的品行吗？我们肯定能挣钱养活自己的。” 她在给哥哥的信中写道：“约瑟夫，借上一百卢布，好好待在华沙。别把自己埋没在乡下，也别因为我给你提建议而恼怒。还记得我们约定要有什么就说什么。大家都觉得在乡下行医就是坐井观天，不会有什么大的发展。缺少药店、医院和书籍的支持，医生就会变得束手无策，无论你怀揣多么崇高的治病救人的理想。亲爱的哥哥，如果这件事发生在你身上，我一定会悲痛万分，因为我现在对自己已经完全失去信心，唯把希望寄托在你和布朗尼娅身上。你不能埋没了我们家族世代相传的天赋。这些天赋必须在我们某个人的身上体现出来。我越对自己失望，便越对你充满希望。” 玛妮雅对海拉也充满爱怜，那会儿海拉被爱人抛弃，也由此对男人充满了愤恨。“说真的，”她写道，“人要学会认清他人！如果不想娶贫穷的女孩，就让他们见鬼去吧。没人强迫他们这样做，为什么还要与穷女孩相爱，然后又让她们伤心落泪？”
这是玛妮雅人生的低谷期。她担心自己受学生影响，脑子会变得愚笨僵化，很多教师都有这样的担忧。她的远大梦想看起来愚蠢可笑。“我现在唯一的愿望，”她写道，“就是有一个属于自己的小角落，能让我和父亲安身。要是能获得独立并有属于自己的家，我宁愿折寿。如果能离开Z一家，虽然不太可能，我就在华沙的某间寄宿学校里谋一份差事，再私下带点课挣些外快。这就是我唯一希望的事。生活不值得这样操心忧愁。”确实，这是她人生的低谷期。但一本名为《尼曼河河畔》的小说有幸提醒到她，真正的玛妮雅身上不该有这样消极的想法。“我的梦想都到哪儿去了？”她给布朗尼娅写信，“我想为人们做点事情，突破重重困难教会了十几个村里的男孩女孩读书写字。这是为了提醒他们自己是谁，自己能为世界做些什么！人们根本无法想象这种境况。生活是艰难的。我变得如此狭隘平庸。突然有这样一本书让我为之一振，我也为此痛苦不已。”与此同时，她给堂姐妹写信：“我处于黑色幽默之中，每日面对的就是凛冽的西风，夹杂着雨水、洪水和泥土。连霜都没有，我的滑冰鞋忧伤地挂在衣橱里。你们可能不清楚，在我们这个小地方，霜就像加利西亚的保守党和自由党人之间的辩论那样重要！不要认为你的故事会让我感到无趣。相反，能听到大地上其他地方还有人在活动甚至思考，都让人为之振奋！我只能用暴力手段粗暴地感知生活！随即我摇醒自己，逃脱出梦魇重新做回自己，我告诉自己：‘不要被其他人或其他事击垮。’但对新环境、新变化和新活动的渴望有力地督促着我，让我想做一些极度随性的事来结束这漫长且一成不变的生活。幸运的是，我有许多工作要做，因而这种念头并没有对我产生太多的影响。”
