PART II CHAPTER I

Why do I so persistently paint the poverty, the imperfections of Russian life, and delve into the remotest depths, the most retired holes and corners, of our Empire for my subjects? The answer is that there is nothing else to be done when an author's idiosyncrasy happens to incline him that way. So again we find ourselves in a retired spot. But what a spot!

Imagine, if you can, a mountain range like a gigantic fortress, with embrasures and bastions which appear to soar a thousand versts towards the heights of heaven, and, towering grandly over a boundless expanse of plain, are broken up into precipitous, overhanging limestone cliffs. Here and there those cliffs are seamed with water-courses and gullies, while at other points they are rounded off into spurs of green—spurs now coated with fleece-like tufts of young undergrowth, now studded with the stumps of felled trees, now covered with timber which has, by some miracle, escaped the woodman's axe. Also, a river winds awhile between its banks, then leaves the meadow land, divides into runlets (all flashing in the sun like fire), plunges, re-united, into the midst of a thicket of elder, birth, and pine, and, lastly, speeds triumphantly past bridges and mills and weirs which seem to be lying in wait for it at every turn.

At one particular spot the steep flank of the mountain range is covered with billowy verdure of denser growth than the rest; and here the aid of skilful planting, added to the shelter afforded by a rugged ravine, has enabled the flora of north and south so to be brought together that, twined about with sinuous hop-tendrils, the oak, the spruce fir, the wild pear, the maple, the cherry, the thorn, and the mountain ash either assist or check one another's growth, and everywhere cover the declivity with their straggling profusion. Also, at the edge of the summit there can be seen mingling with the green of the trees the red roofs of a manorial homestead, while behind the upper stories of the mansion proper and its carved balcony and a great semi-circular window there gleam the tiles and gables of some peasants' huts. Lastly, over this combination of trees and roofs there rises—overtopping everything with its gilded, sparkling steeple—an old village church. On each of its pinnacles a cross of carved gilt is stayed with supports of similar gilding and design; with the result that from a distance the gilded portions have the effect of hanging without visible agency in the air. And the whole—the three successive tiers of woodland, roofs, and crosses whole—lies exquisitely mirrored in the river below, where hollow willows, grotesquely shaped (some of them rooted on the river's banks, and some in the water itself, and all drooping their branches until their leaves have formed a tangle with the water lilies which float on the surface), seem to be gazing at the marvellous reflection at their feet.

Thus the view from below is beautiful indeed. But the view from above is even better. No guest, no visitor, could stand on the balcony of the mansion and remain indifferent. So boundless is the panorama revealed that surprise would cause him to catch at his breath, and exclaim: “Lord of Heaven, but what a prospect!” Beyond meadows studded with spinneys and water-mills lie forests belted with green; while beyond, again, there can be seen showing through the slightly misty air strips of yellow heath, and, again, wide-rolling forests (as blue as the sea or a cloud), and more heath, paler than the first, but still yellow. Finally, on the far horizon a range of chalk-topped hills gleams white, even in dull weather, as though it were lightened with perpetual sunshine; and here and there on the dazzling whiteness of its lower slopes some plaster-like, nebulous patches represent far-off villages which lie too remote for the eye to discern their details. Indeed, only when the sunlight touches a steeple to gold does one realise that each such patch is a human settlement. Finally, all is wrapped in an immensity of silence which even the far, faint echoes of persons singing in the void of the plain cannot shatter.

Even after gazing at the spectacle for a couple of hours or so, the visitor would still find nothing to say, save: “Lord of Heaven, but what a prospect!” Then who is the dweller in, the proprietor of, this manor—a manor to which, as to an impregnable fortress, entrance cannot be gained from the side where we have been standing, but only from the other approach, where a few scattered oaks offer hospitable welcome to the visitor, and then, spreading above him their spacious branches (as in friendly embrace), accompany him to the facade of the mansion whose top we have been regarding from the reverse aspect, but which now stands frontwise on to us, and has, on one side of it, a row of peasants' huts with red tiles and carved gables, and, on the other, the village church, with those glittering golden crosses and gilded open-work charms which seem to hang suspended in the air? Yes, indeed!— to what fortunate individual does this corner of the world belong? It belongs to Andrei Ivanovitch Tientietnikov, landowner of the canton of Tremalakhan, and, withal, a bachelor of about thirty.

Should my lady readers ask of me what manner of man is Tientietnikov, and what are his attributes and peculiarities, I should refer them to his neighbours. Of these, a member of the almost extinct tribe of intelligent staff officers on the retired list once summed up Tientietnikov in the phrase, “He is an absolute blockhead;” while a General who resided ten versts away was heard to remark that “he is a young man who, though not exactly a fool, has at least too much crowded into his head. I myself might have been of use to him, for not only do I maintain certain connections with St. Petersburg, but also—” And the General left his sentence unfinished. Thirdly, a captain-superintendent of rural police happened to remark in the course of conversation: “To-morrow I must go and see Tientietnikov about his arrears.” Lastly, a peasant of Tientietnikov's own village, when asked what his barin was like, returned no answer at all. All of which would appear to show that Tientietnikov was not exactly looked upon with favour.

To speak dispassionately, however, he was not a bad sort of fellow— merely a star-gazer; and since the world contains many watchers of the skies, why should Tientietnikov not have been one of them? However, let me describe in detail a specimen day of his existence—one that will closely resemble the rest, and then the reader will be enabled to judge of Tientietnikov's character, and how far his life corresponded to the beauties of nature with which he lived surrounded.

On the morning of the specimen day in question he awoke very late, and, raising himself to a sitting posture, rubbed his eyes. And since those eyes were small, the process of rubbing them occupied a very long time, and throughout its continuance there stood waiting by the door his valet, Mikhailo, armed with a towel and basin. For one hour, for two hours, did poor Mikhailo stand there: then he departed to the kitchen, and returned to find his master still rubbing his eyes as he sat on the bed. At length, however, Tientietnikov rose, washed himself, donned a dressing-gown, and moved into the drawing-room for morning tea, coffee, cocoa, and warm milk; of all of which he partook but sparingly, while munching a piece of bread, and scattering tobacco ash with complete insouciance. Two hours did he sit over this meal, then poured himself out another cup of the rapidly cooling tea, and walked to the window. This faced the courtyard, and outside it, as usual, there took place the following daily altercation between a serf named Grigory (who purported to act as butler) and the housekeeper, Perfilievna.

Grigory. Ah, you nuisance, you good-for-nothing, you had better hold your stupid tongue.

Perfilievna. Yes; and don't you wish that I would?

Grigory. What? You so thick with that bailiff of yours, you housekeeping jade!

Perfilievna. Nay, he is as big a thief as you are. Do you think the barin doesn't know you? And there he is! He must have heard everything!

Grigory. Where?

Perfilievna. There—sitting by the window, and looking at us!

Next, to complete the hubbub, a serf child which had been clouted by its mother broke out into a bawl, while a borzoi puppy which had happened to get splashed with boiling water by the cook fell to yelping vociferously. In short, the place soon became a babel of shouts and squeals, and, after watching and listening for a time, the barin found it so impossible to concentrate his mind upon anything that he sent out word that the noise would have to be abated.

The next item was that, a couple of hours before luncheon time, he withdrew to his study, to set about employing himself upon a weighty work which was to consider Russia from every point of view: from the political, from the philosophical, and from the religious, as well as to resolve various problems which had arisen to confront the Empire, and to define clearly the great future to which the country stood ordained. In short, it was to be the species of compilation in which the man of the day so much delights. Yet the colossal undertaking had progressed but little beyond the sphere of projection, since, after a pen had been gnawed awhile, and a few strokes had been committed to paper, the whole would be laid aside in favour of the reading of some book; and that reading would continue also during luncheon and be followed by the lighting of a pipe, the playing of a solitary game of chess, and the doing of more or less nothing for the rest of the day.

The foregoing will give the reader a pretty clear idea of the manner in which it was possible for this man of thirty-three to waste his time. Clad constantly in slippers and a dressing-gown, Tientietnikov never went out, never indulged in any form of dissipation, and never walked upstairs. Nothing did he care for fresh air, and would bestow not a passing glance upon all those beauties of the countryside which moved visitors to such ecstatic admiration. From this the reader will see that Andrei Ivanovitch Tientietnikov belonged to that band of sluggards whom we always have with us, and who, whatever be their present appellation, used to be known by the nicknames of “lollopers,” “bed pressers,” and “marmots.” Whether the type is a type originating at birth, or a type resulting from untoward circumstances in later life, it is impossible to say. A better course than to attempt to answer that question would be to recount the story of Tientietnikov's boyhood and upbringing.

Everything connected with the latter seemed to promise success, for at twelve years of age the boy—keen-witted, but dreamy of temperament, and inclined to delicacy—was sent to an educational establishment presided over by an exceptional type of master. The idol of his pupils, and the admiration of his assistants, Alexander Petrovitch was gifted with an extraordinary measure of good sense. How thoroughly he knew the peculiarities of the Russian of his day! How well he understood boys! How capable he was of drawing them out! Not a practical joker in the school but, after perpetrating a prank, would voluntarily approach his preceptor and make to him free confession. True, the preceptor would put a stern face upon the matter, yet the culprit would depart with head held higher, not lower, than before, since in Alexander Petrovitch there was something which heartened—something which seemed to say to a delinquent: “Forward you! Rise to your feet again, even though you have fallen!” Not lectures on good behaviour was it, therefore, that fell from his lips, but rather the injunction, “I want to see intelligence, and nothing else. The boy who devotes his attention to becoming clever will never play the fool, for under such circumstances, folly disappears of itself.” And so folly did, for the boy who failed to strive in the desired direction incurred the contempt of all his comrades, and even dunces and fools of senior standing did not dare to raise a finger when saluted by their juniors with opprobrious epithets. Yet “This is too much,” certain folk would say to Alexander. “The result will be that your students will turn out prigs.” “But no,” he would reply. “Not at all. You see, I make it my principle to keep the incapables for a single term only, since that is enough for them; but to the clever ones I allot a double course of instruction.” And, true enough, any lad of brains was retained for this finishing course. Yet he did not repress all boyish playfulness, since he declared it to be as necessary as a rash to a doctor, inasmuch as it enabled him to diagnose what lay hidden within.

Consequently, how the boys loved him! Never was there such an attachment between master and pupils. And even later, during the foolish years, when foolish things attract, the measure of affection which Alexander Petrovitch retained was extraordinary. In fact, to the day of his death, every former pupil would celebrate the birthday of his late master by raising his glass in gratitude to the mentor dead and buried—then close his eyelids upon the tears which would come trickling through them. Even the slightest word of encouragement from Alexander Petrovitch could throw a lad into a transport of tremulous joy, and arouse in him an honourable emulation of his fellows. Boys of small capacity he did not long retain in his establishment; whereas those who possessed exceptional talent he put through an extra course of schooling. This senior class—a class composed of specially-selected pupils—was a very different affair from what usually obtains in other colleges. Only when a boy had attained its ranks did Alexander demand of him what other masters indiscreetly require of mere infants—namely the superior frame of mind which, while never indulging in mockery, can itself bear ridicule, and disregard the fool, and keep its temper, and repress itself, and eschew revenge, and calmly, proudly retain its tranquillity of soul. In short, whatever avails to form a boy into a man of assured character, that did Alexander Petrovitch employ during the pupil's youth, as well as constantly put him to the test. How well he understood the art of life!

Of assistant tutors he kept but few, since most of the necessary instruction he imparted in person, and, without pedantic terminology and inflated diction and views, could so transmit to his listeners the inmost spirit of a lesson that even the youngest present absorbed its essential elements. Also, of studies he selected none but those which may help a boy to become a good citizen; and therefore most of the lectures which he delivered consisted of discourses on what may be awaiting a youth, as well as of such demarcations of life's field that the pupil, though seated, as yet, only at the desk, could beforehand bear his part in that field both in thought and spirit. Nor did the master CONCEAL anything. That is to say, without mincing words, he invariably set before his hearers the sorrows and the difficulties which may confront a man, the trials and the temptations which may beset him. And this he did in terms as though, in every possible calling and capacity, he himself had experienced the same. Consequently, either the vigorous development of self-respect or the constant stimulus of the master's eye (which seemed to say to the pupil, “Forward!”— that word which has become so familiar to the contemporary Russian, that word which has worked such wonders upon his sensitive temperament); one or the other, I repeat, would from the first cause the pupil to tackle difficulties, and only difficulties, and to hunger for prowess only where the path was arduous, and obstacles were many, and it was necessary to display the utmost strength of mind. Indeed, few completed the course of which I have spoken without issuing therefrom reliable, seasoned fighters who could keep their heads in the most embarrassing of official positions, and at times when older and wiser men, distracted with the annoyances of life, had either abandoned everything or, grown slack and indifferent, had surrendered to the bribe-takers and the rascals. In short, no ex-pupil of Alexander Petrovitch ever wavered from the right road, but, familiar with life and with men, armed with the weapons of prudence, exerted a powerful influence upon wrongdoers.

For a long time past the ardent young Tientietnikov's excitable heart had also beat at the thought that one day he might attain the senior class described. And, indeed, what better teacher could he have had befall him than its preceptor? Yet just at the moment when he had been transferred thereto, just at the moment when he had reached the coveted position, did his instructor come suddenly by his death! This was indeed a blow for the boy— indeed a terrible initial loss! In his eyes everything connected with the school seemed to undergo a change—the chief reason being the fact that to the place of the deceased headmaster there succeeded a certain Thedor Ivanovitch, who at once began to insist upon certain external rules, and to demand of the boys what ought rightly to have been demanded only of adults. That is to say, since the lads' frank and open demeanour savoured to him only of lack of discipline, he announced (as though in deliberate spite of his predecessor) that he cared nothing for progress and intellect, but that heed was to be paid only to good behaviour. Yet, curiously enough, good behaviour was just what he never obtained, for every kind of secret prank became the rule; and while, by day, there reigned restraint and conspiracy, by night there began to take place chambering and wantonness.

Also, certain changes in the curriculum of studies came about, for there were engaged new teachers who held new views and opinions, and confused their hearers with a multitude of new terms and phrases, and displayed in their exposition of things both logical sequence and a zest for modern discovery and much warmth of individual bias. Yet their instruction, alas! contained no LIFE—in the mouths of those teachers a dead language savoured merely of carrion. Thus everything connected with the school underwent a radical alteration, and respect for authority and the authorities waned, and tutors and ushers came to be dubbed “Old Thedor,” “Crusty,” and the like. And sundry other things began to take place—things which necessitated many a penalty and expulsion; until, within a couple of years, no one who had known the school in former days would now have recognised it.

Nevertheless Tientietnikov, a youth of retiring disposition, experienced no leanings towards the nocturnal orgies of his companions, orgies during which the latter used to flirt with damsels before the very windows of the headmaster's rooms, nor yet towards their mockery of all that was sacred, simply because fate had cast in their way an injudicious priest. No, despite its dreaminess, his soul ever remembered its celestial origin, and could not be diverted from the path of virtue. Yet still he hung his head, for, while his ambition had come to life, it could find no sort of outlet. Truly 'twere well if it had NOT come to life, for throughout the time that he was listening to professors who gesticulated on their chairs he could not help remembering the old preceptor who, invariably cool and calm, had yet known how to make himself understood. To what subjects, to what lectures, did the boy not have to listen!—to lectures on medicine, and on philosophy, and on law, and on a version of general history so enlarged that even three years failed to enable the professor to do more than finish the introduction thereto, and also the account of the development of some self-governing towns in Germany. None of the stuff remained fixed in Tientietnikov's brain save as shapeless clots; for though his native intellect could not tell him how instruction ought to be imparted, it at least told him that THIS was not the way. And frequently, at such moments he would recall Alexander Petrovitch, and give way to such grief that scarcely did he know what he was doing.

But youth is fortunate in the fact that always before it there lies a future; and in proportion as the time for his leaving school drew nigh, Tientietnikov's heart began to beat higher and higher, and he said to himself: “This is not life, but only a preparation for life. True life is to be found in the Public Service. There at least will there be scope for activity.” So, bestowing not a glance upon that beautiful corner of the world which never failed to strike the guest or chance visitor with amazement, and reverencing not a whit the dust of his ancestors, he followed the example of most ambitious men of his class by repairing to St. Petersburg (whither, as we know, the more spirited youth of Russia from every quarter gravitates—there to enter the Public Service, to shine, to obtain promotion, and, in a word, to scale the topmost peaks of that pale, cold, deceptive elevation which is known as society). But the real starting-point of Tientietnikov's ambition was the moment when his uncle (one State Councillor Onifri Ivanovitch) instilled into him the maxim that the only means to success in the Service lay in good handwriting, and that, without that accomplishment, no one could ever hope to become a Minister or Statesman. Thus, with great difficulty, and also with the help of his uncle's influence, young Tientietnikov at length succeeded in being posted to a Department. On the day that he was conducted into a splendid, shining hall—a hall fitted with inlaid floors and lacquered desks as fine as though this were actually the place where the great ones of the Empire met for discussion of the fortunes of the State; on the day that he saw legions of handsome gentlemen of the quill-driving profession making loud scratchings with pens, and cocking their heads to one side; lastly on the day that he saw himself also allotted a desk, and requested to copy a document which appeared purposely to be one of the pettiest possible order (as a matter of fact it related to a sum of three roubles, and had taken half a year to produce)—well, at that moment a curious, an unwonted sensation seized upon the inexperienced youth, for the gentlemen around him appeared so exactly like a lot of college students. And, the further to complete the resemblance, some of them were engaged in reading trashy translated novels, which they kept hurriedly thrusting between the sheets of their apportioned work whenever the Director appeared, as though to convey the impression that it was to that work alone that they were applying themselves. In short, the scene seemed to Tientietnikov strange, and his former pursuits more important than his present, and his preparation for the Service preferable to the Service itself. Yes, suddenly he felt a longing for his old school; and as suddenly, and with all the vividness of life, there appeared before his vision the figure of Alexander Petrovitch. He almost burst into tears as he beheld his old master, and the room seemed to swim before his eyes, and the tchinovniks and the desks to become a blur, and his sight to grow dim. Then he thought to himself with an effort: “No, no! I WILL apply myself to my work, however petty it be at first.” And hardening his heart and recovering his spirit, he determined then and there to perform his duties in such a manner as should be an example to the rest.

But where are compensations to be found? Even in St. Petersburg, despite its grim and murky exterior, they exist. Yes, even though thirty degrees of keen, cracking frost may have bound the streets, and the family of the North Wind be wailing there, and the Snowstorm Witch have heaped high the pavements, and be blinding the eyes, and powdering beards and fur collars and the shaggy manes of horses—even THEN there will be shining hospitably through the swirling snowflakes a fourth-floor window where, in a cosy room, and by the light of modest candles, and to the hiss of the samovar, there will be in progress a discussion which warms the heart and soul, or else a reading aloud of a brilliant page of one of those inspired Russian poets with whom God has dowered us, while the breast of each member of the company is heaving with a rapture unknown under a noontide sky.

Gradually, therefore, Tientietnikov grew more at home in the Service. Yet never did it become, for him, the main pursuit, the main object in life, which he had expected. No, it remained but one of a secondary kind. That is to say, it served merely to divide up his time, and enable him the more to value his hours of leisure. Nevertheless, just when his uncle was beginning to flatter himself that his nephew was destined to succeed in the profession, the said nephew elected to ruin his every hope. Thus it befell. Tientietnikov's friends (he had many) included among their number a couple of fellows of the species known as “embittered.” That is to say, though good-natured souls of that curiously restless type which cannot endure injustice, nor anything which it conceives to be such, they were thoroughly unbalanced of conduct themselves, and, while demanding general agreement with their views, treated those of others with the scantiest of ceremony. Nevertheless these two associates exercised upon Tientietnikov—both by the fire of their eloquence and by the form of their noble dissatisfaction with society—a very strong influence; with the result that, through arousing in him an innate tendency to nervous resentment, they led him also to notice trifles which before had escaped his attention. An instance of this is seen in the fact that he conceived against Thedor Thedorovitch Lienitsin, Director of one of the Departments which was quartered in the splendid range of offices before mentioned, a dislike which proved the cause of his discerning n the man a host of hitherto unmarked imperfections. Above all things did Tientietnikov take it into his head that, when conversing with his superiors, Lienitsin became, of the moment, a stick of luscious sweetmeat, but that, when conversing with his inferiors, he approximated more to a vinegar cruet. Certain it is that, like all petty-minded individuals, Lienitsin made a note of any one who failed to offer him a greeting on festival days, and that he revenged himself upon any one whose visiting-card had not been handed to his butler. Eventually the youth's aversion almost attained the point of hysteria; until he felt that, come what might, he MUST insult the fellow in some fashion. To that task he applied himself con amore; and so thoroughly that he met with complete success. That is to say, he seized on an occasion to address Lienitsin in such fashion that the delinquent received notice either to apologies or to leave the Service; and when of these alternatives he chose the latter his uncle came to him, and made a terrified appeal. “For God's sake remember what you are doing!” he cried. “To think that, after beginning your career so well, you should abandon it merely for the reason that you have not fallen in with the sort of Director whom you prefer! What do you mean by it, what do you mean by it? Were others to regard things in the same way, the Service would find itself without a single individual. Reconsider your conduct—forego your pride and conceit, and make Lienitsin amends.”

“But, dear Uncle,” the nephew replied, “that is not the point. The point is, not that I should find an apology difficult to offer, seeing that, since Lienitsin is my superior, and I ought not to have addressed him as I did, I am clearly in the wrong. Rather, the point is the following. To my charge there has been committed the performance of another kind of service. That is to say, I am the owner of three hundred peasant souls, a badly administered estate, and a fool of a bailiff. That being so, whereas the State will lose little by having to fill my stool with another copyist, it will lose very much by causing three hundred peasant souls to fail in the payment of their taxes. As I say (how am I to put it?), I am a landowner who has preferred to enter the Public Service. Now, should I employ myself henceforth in conserving, restoring, and improving the fortunes of the souls whom God has entrusted to my care, and thereby provide the State with three hundred law-abiding, sober, hard-working taxpayers, how will that service of mine rank as inferior to the service of a department-directing fool like Lienitsin?”

On hearing this speech, the State Councillor could only gape, for he had not expected Tientietnikov's torrent of words. He reflected a few moments, and then murmured:

“Yes, but, but—but how can a man like you retire to rustication in the country? What society will you get there? Here one meets at least a general or a prince sometimes; indeed, no matter whom you pass in the street, that person represents gas lamps and European civilisation; but in the country, no matter what part of it you are in, not a soul is to be encountered save muzhiks and their women. Why should you go and condemn yourself to a state of vegetation like that?”

Nevertheless the uncle's expostulations fell upon deaf ears, for already the nephew was beginning to think of his estate as a retreat of a type more likely to nourish the intellectual faculties and afford the only profitable field of activity. After unearthing one or two modern works on agriculture, therefore, he, two weeks later, found himself in the neighbourhood of the home where his boyhood had been spent, and approaching the spot which never failed to enthral the visitor or guest. And in the young man's breast there was beginning to palpitate a new feeling—in the young man's soul there were reawakening old, long-concealed impressions; with the result that many a spot which had long been faded from his memory now filled him with interest, and the beautiful views on the estate found him gazing at them like a newcomer, and with a beating heart. Yes, as the road wound through a narrow ravine, and became engulfed in a forest where, both above and below, he saw three-centuries-old oaks which three men could not have spanned, and where Siberian firs and elms overtopped even the poplars, and as he asked the peasants to tell him to whom the forest belonged, and they replied, “To Tientietnikov,” and he issued from the forest, and proceeded on his way through meadows, and past spinneys of elder, and of old and young willows, and arrived in sight of the distant range of hills, and, crossing by two different bridges the winding river (which he left successively to right and to left of him as he did so), he again questioned some peasants concerning the ownership of the meadows and the flooded lands, and was again informed that they all belonged to Tientietnikov, and then, ascending a rise, reached a tableland where, on one side, lay ungarnered fields of wheat and rye and barley, and, on the other, the country already traversed (but which now showed in shortened perspective), and then plunged into the shade of some forked, umbrageous trees which stood scattered over turf and extended to the manor-house itself, and caught glimpses of the carved huts of the peasants, and of the red roofs of the stone manorial outbuildings, and of the glittering pinnacles of the church, and felt his heart beating, and knew, without being told by any one, whither he had at length arrived—well, then the feeling which had been growing within his soul burst forth, and he cried in ecstasy:

“Why have I been a fool so long? Why, seeing that fate has appointed me to be ruler of an earthly paradise, did I prefer to bind myself in servitude as a scribe of lifeless documents? To think that, after I had been nurtured and schooled and stored with all the knowledge necessary for the diffusion of good among those under me, and for the improvement of my domain, and for the fulfilment of the manifold duties of a landowner who is at once judge, administrator, and constable of his people, I should have entrusted my estate to an ignorant bailiff, and sought to maintain an absentee guardianship over the affairs of serfs whom I have never met, and of whose capabilities and characters I am yet ignorant! To think that I should have deemed true estate-management inferior to a documentary, fantastical management of provinces which lie a thousand versts away, and which my foot has never trod, and where I could never have effected aught but blunders and irregularities!”

Meanwhile another spectacle was being prepared for him. On learning that the barin was approaching the mansion, the muzhiks collected on the verandah in very variety of picturesque dress and tonsure; and when these good folk surrounded him, and there arose a resounding shout of “Here is our Foster Father! He has remembered us!” and, in spite of themselves, some of the older men and women began weeping as they recalled his grandfather and great-grandfather, he himself could not restrain his tears, but reflected: “How much affection! And in return for what? In return for my never having come to see them—in return for my never having taken the least interest in their affairs!” And then and there he registered a mental vow to share their every task and occupation.

So he applied himself to supervising and administering. He reduced the amount of the barstchina , he decreased the number of working-days for the owner, and he augmented the sum of the peasants' leisure-time. He also dismissed the fool of a bailiff, and took to bearing a personal hand in everything—to being present in the fields, at the threshing-floor, at the kilns, at the wharf, at the freighting of barges and rafts, and at their conveyance down the river: wherefore even the lazy hands began to look to themselves. But this did not last long. The peasant is an observant individual, and Tientietnikov's muzhiks soon scented the fact that, though energetic and desirous of doing much, the barin had no notion how to do it, nor even how to set about it—that, in short, he spoke by the book rather than out of his personal knowledge. Consequently things resulted, not in master and men failing to understand one another, but in their not singing together, in their not producing the very same note.

That is to say, it was not long before Tientietnikov noticed that on the manorial lands, nothing prospered to the extent that it did on the peasants'. The manorial crops were sown in good time, and came up well, and every one appeared to work his best, so much so that Tientietnikov, who supervised the whole, frequently ordered mugs of vodka to be served out as a reward for the excellence of the labour performed. Yet the rye on the peasants' land had formed into ear, and the oats had begun to shoot their grain, and the millet had filled before, on the manorial lands, the corn had so much as grown to stalk, or the ears had sprouted in embryo. In short, gradually the barin realised that, in spite of favours conferred, the peasants were playing the rogue with him. Next he resorted to remonstrance, but was met with the reply, “How could we not do our best for our barin? You yourself saw how well we laboured at the ploughing and the sowing, for you gave us mugs of vodka for our pains.”

“Then why have things turned out so badly?” the barin persisted.

“Who can say? It must be that a grub has eaten the crop from below. Besides, what a summer has it been—never a drop of rain!”

Nevertheless, the barin noted that no grub had eaten the PEASANTS' crops, as well as that the rain had fallen in the most curious fashion—namely, in patches. It had obliged the muzhiks, but had shed a mere sprinkling for the barin.

Still more difficult did he find it to deal with the peasant women. Ever and anon they would beg to be excused from work, or start making complaints of the severity of the barstchina. Indeed, they were terrible folk! However, Tientietnikov abolished the majority of the tithes of linen, hedge fruit, mushrooms, and nuts, and also reduced by one-half other tasks proper to the women, in the hope that they would devote their spare time to their own domestic concerns—namely, to sewing and mending, and to making clothes for their husbands, and to increasing the area of their kitchen gardens. Yet no such result came about. On the contrary, such a pitch did the idleness, the quarrelsomeness, and the intriguing and caballing of the fair sex attain that their helpmeets were for ever coming to the barin with a request that he would rid one or another of his wife, since she had become a nuisance, and to live with her was impossible.

Next, hardening his heart, the barin attempted severity. But of what avail was severity? The peasant woman remained always the peasant woman, and would come and whine that she was sick and ailing, and keep pitifully hugging to herself the mean and filthy rags which she had donned for the occasion. And when poor Tientietnikov found himself unable to say more to her than just, “Get out of my sight, and may the Lord go with you!” the next item in the comedy would be that he would see her, even as she was leaving his gates, fall to contending with a neighbour for, say, the possession of a turnip, and dealing out slaps in the face such as even a strong, healthy man could scarcely have compassed!

Again, amongst other things, Tientietnikov conceived the idea of establishing a school for his people; but the scheme resulted in a farce which left him in sackcloth and ashes. In the same way he found that, when it came to a question of dispensing justice and of adjusting disputes, the host of juridical subtleties with which the professors had provided him proved absolutely useless. That is to say, the one party lied, and the other party lied, and only the devil could have decided between them. Consequently he himself perceived that a knowledge of mankind would have availed him more than all the legal refinements and philosophical maxims in the world could do. He lacked something; and though he could not divine what it was, the situation brought about was the common one of the barin failing to understand the peasant, and the peasant failing to understand the barin, and both becoming disaffected. In the end, these difficulties so chilled Tientietnikov's enthusiasm that he took to supervising the labours of the field with greatly diminished attention. That is to say, no matter whether the scythes were softly swishing through the grass, or ricks were being built, or rafts were being loaded, he would allow his eyes to wander from his men, and to fall to gazing at, say, a red-billed, red-legged heron which, after strutting along the bank of a stream, would have caught a fish in its beak, and be holding it awhile, as though in doubt whether to swallow it. Next he would glance towards the spot where a similar bird, but one not yet in possession of a fish, was engaged in watching the doings of its mate. Lastly, with eyebrows knitted, and face turned to scan the zenith, he would drink in the smell of the fields, and fall to listening to the winged population of the air as from earth and sky alike the manifold music of winged creatures combined in a single harmonious chorus. In the rye the quail would be calling, and, in the grass, the corncrake, and over them would be wheeling flocks of twittering linnets. Also, the jacksnipe would be uttering its croak, and the lark executing its roulades where it had become lost in the sunshine, and cranes sending forth their trumpet-like challenge as they deployed towards the zenith in triangle-shaped flocks. In fact, the neighbourhood would seem to have become converted into one great concert of melody. O Creator, how fair is Thy world where, in remote, rural seclusion, it lies apart from cities and from highways!

But soon even this began to pall upon Tientietnikov, and he ceased altogether to visit his fields, or to do aught but shut himself up in his rooms, where he refused to receive even the bailiff when that functionary called with his reports. Again, although, until now, he had to a certain extent associated with a retired colonel of hussars—a man saturated with tobacco smoke—and also with a student of pronounced, but immature, opinions who culled the bulk of his wisdom from contemporary newspapers and pamphlets, he found, as time went on, that these companions proved as tedious as the rest, and came to think their conversation superficial, and their European method of comporting themselves—that is to say, the method of conversing with much slapping of knees and a great deal of bowing and gesticulation—too direct and unadorned. So these and every one else he decided to “drop,” and carried this resolution into effect with a certain amount of rudeness. On the next occasion that Varvar Nikolaievitch Vishnepokromov called to indulge in a free-and-easy symposium on politics, philosophy, literature, morals, and the state of financial affairs in England (he was, in all matters which admit of superficial discussion, the pleasantest fellow alive, seeing that he was a typical representative both of the retired fire-eater and of the school of thought which is now becoming the rage)—when, I say, this next happened, Tientietnikov merely sent out to say that he was not at home, and then carefully showed himself at the window. Host and guest exchanged glances, and, while the one muttered through his teeth “The cur!” the other relieved his feelings with a remark or two on swine. Thus the acquaintance came to an abrupt end, and from that time forth no visitor called at the mansion.

Tientietnikov in no way regretted this, for he could now devote himself wholly to the projection of a great work on Russia. Of the scale on which this composition was conceived the reader is already aware. The reader also knows how strange, how unsystematic, was the system employed in it. Yet to say that Tientietnikov never awoke from his lethargy would not be altogether true. On the contrary, when the post brought him newspapers and reviews, and he saw in their printed pages, perhaps, the well-known name of some former comrade who had succeeded in the great field of Public Service, or had conferred upon science and the world's work some notable contribution, he would succumb to secret and suppressed grief, and involuntarily there would burst from his soul an expression of aching, voiceless regret that he himself had done so little. And at these times his existence would seem to him odious and repellent; at these times there would uprise before him the memory of his school days, and the figure of Alexander Petrovitch, as vivid as in life. And, slowly welling, the tears would course over Tientietnikov's cheeks.

What meant these repinings? Was there not disclosed in them the secret of his galling spiritual pain—the fact that he had failed to order his life aright, to confirm the lofty aims with which he had started his course; the fact that, always poorly equipped with experience, he had failed to attain the better and the higher state, and there to strengthen himself for the overcoming of hindrances and obstacles; the fact that, dissolving like overheated metal, his bounteous store of superior instincts had failed to take the final tempering; the fact that the tutor of his boyhood, a man in a thousand, had prematurely died, and left to Tientietnikov no one who could restore to him the moral strength shattered by vacillation and the will power weakened by want of virility—no one, in short, who could cry hearteningly to his soul “Forward!”—the word for which the Russian of every degree, of every class, of every occupation, of every school of thought, is for ever hungering.

Indeed, WHERE is the man who can cry aloud for any of us, in the Russian tongue dear to our soul, the all-compelling command “Forward!”? Who is there who, knowing the strength and the nature and the inmost depths of the Russian genius, can by a single magic incantation divert our ideals to the higher life? Were there such a man, with what tears, with what affection, would not the grateful sons of Russia repay him! Yet age succeeds to age, and our callow youth still lies wrapped in shameful sloth, or strives and struggles to no purpose. God has not yet given us the man able to sound the call.

One circumstance which almost aroused Tientietnikov, which almost brought about a revolution in his character, was the fact that he came very near to falling in love. Yet even this resulted in nothing. Ten versts away there lived the general whom we have heard expressing himself in highly uncomplimentary terms concerning Tientietnikov. He maintained a General-like establishment, dispensed hospitality (that is to say, was glad when his neighbours came to pay him their respects, though he himself never went out), spoke always in a hoarse voice, read a certain number of books, and had a daughter—a curious, unfamiliar type, but full of life as life itself. This maiden's name was Ulinka, and she had been strangely brought up, for, losing her mother in early childhood, she had subsequently received instruction at the hands of an English governess who knew not a single word of Russian. Moreover her father, though excessively fond of her, treated her always as a toy; with the result that, as she grew to years of discretion, she became wholly wayward and spoilt. Indeed, had any one seen the sudden rage which would gather on her beautiful young forehead when she was engaged in a heated dispute with her father, he would have thought her one of the most capricious beings in the world. Yet that rage gathered only when she had heard of injustice or harsh treatment, and never because she desired to argue on her own behalf, or to attempt to justify her own conduct. Also, that anger would disappear as soon as ever she saw any one whom she had formerly disliked fall upon evil times, and, at his first request for alms would, without consideration or subsequent regret, hand him her purse and its whole contents. Yes, her every act was strenuous, and when she spoke her whole personality seemed to be following hot-foot upon her thought—both her expression of face and her diction and the movements of her hands. Nay, the very folds of her frock had a similar appearance of striving; until one would have thought that all her self were flying in pursuit of her words. Nor did she know reticence: before any one she would disclose her mind, and no force could compel her to maintain silence when she desired to speak. Also, her enchanting, peculiar gait—a gait which belonged to her alone—was so absolutely free and unfettered that every one involuntarily gave her way. Lastly, in her presence churls seemed to become confused and fall to silence, and even the roughest and most outspoken would lose their heads, and have not a word to say; whereas the shy man would find himself able to converse as never in his life before, and would feel, from the first, as though he had seen her and known her at some previous period—during the days of some unremembered childhood, when he was at home, and spending a merry evening among a crowd of romping children. And for long afterwards he would feel as though his man's intellect and estate were a burden.

This was what now befell Tientietnikov; and as it did so a new feeling entered into his soul, and his dreamy life lightened for a moment.

At first the General used to receive him with hospitable civility, but permanent concord between them proved impossible; their conversation always merged into dissension and soreness, seeing that, while the General could not bear to be contradicted or worsted in an argument, Tientietnikov was a man of extreme sensitiveness. True, for the daughter's sake, the father was for a while deferred to, and thus peace was maintained; but this lasted only until the time when there arrived, on a visit to the General, two kinswomen of his—the Countess Bordirev and the Princess Uziakin, retired Court dames, but ladies who still kept up a certain connection with Court circles, and therefore were much fawned upon by their host. No sooner had they appeared on the scene than (so it seemed to Tientietnikov) the General's attitude towards the young man became colder—either he ceased to notice him at all or he spoke to him familiarly, and as to a person having no standing in society. This offended Tientietnikov deeply, and though, when at length he spoke out on the subject, he retained sufficient presence of mind to compress his lips, and to preserve a gentle and courteous tone, his face flushed and his inner man was boiling.

“General,” he said, “I thank you for your condescension. By addressing me in the second person singular, you have admitted me to the circle of your most intimate friends. Indeed, were it not that a difference of years forbids any familiarity on my part, I should answer you in similar fashion.”

The General sat aghast. At length, rallying his tongue and his faculties, he replied that, though he had spoken with a lack of ceremony, he had used the term “thou” merely as an elderly man naturally employs it towards a junior (he made no reference to difference of rank).

Nevertheless, the acquaintance broke off here, and with it any possibility of love-making. The light which had shed a momentary gleam before Tientietnikov's eyes had become extinguished for ever, and upon it there followed a darkness denser than before. Henceforth everything conduced to evolve the regime which the reader has noted—that regime of sloth and inaction which converted Tientietnikov's residence into a place of dirt and neglect. For days at a time would a broom and a heap of dust be left lying in the middle of a room, and trousers tossing about the salon, and pairs of worn-out braces adorning the what-not near the sofa. In short, so mean and untidy did Tientietnikov's mode of life become, that not only his servants, but even his very poultry ceased to treat him with respect. Taking up a pen, he would spend hours in idly sketching houses, huts, waggons, troikas, and flourishes on a piece of paper; while at other times, when he had sunk into a reverie, the pen would, all unknowingly, sketch a small head which had delicate features, a pair of quick, penetrating eyes, and a raised coiffure. Then suddenly the dreamer would perceive, to his surprise, that the pen had executed the portrait of a maiden whose picture no artist could adequately have painted; and therewith his despondency would become greater than ever, and, believing that happiness did not exist on earth, he would relapse into increased ennui, increased neglect of his responsibilities.

But one morning he noticed, on moving to the window after breakfast, that not a word was proceeding either from the butler or the housekeeper, but that, on the contrary, the courtyard seemed to smack of a certain bustle and excitement. This was because through the entrance gates (which the kitchen maid and the scullion had run to open) there were appearing the noses of three horses—one to the right, one in the middle, and one to the left, after the fashion of triumphal groups of statuary. Above them, on the box seat, were seated a coachman and a valet, while behind, again, there could be discerned a gentleman in a scarf and a fur cap. Only when the equipage had entered the courtyard did it stand revealed as a light spring britchka. And as it came to a halt, there leapt on to the verandah of the mansion an individual of respectable exterior, and possessed of the art of moving with the neatness and alertness of a military man.

Upon this Tientietnikov's heart stood still. He was unused to receiving visitors, and for the moment conceived the new arrival to be a Government official, sent to question him concerning an abortive society to which he had formerly belonged. (Here the author may interpolate the fact that, in Tientietnikov's early days, the young man had become mixed up in a very absurd affair. That is to say, a couple of philosophers belonging to a regiment of hussars had, together with an aesthete who had not yet completed his student's course and a gambler who had squandered his all, formed a secret society of philanthropic aims under the presidency of a certain old rascal of a freemason and the ruined gambler aforesaid. The scope of the society's work was to be extensive: it was to bring lasting happiness to humanity at large, from the banks of the Thames to the shores of Kamtchatka. But for this much money was needed: wherefore from the noble-minded members of the society generous contributions were demanded, and then forwarded to a destination known only to the supreme authorities of the concern. As for Tientietnikov's adhesion, it was brought about by the two friends already alluded to as “embittered”—good-hearted souls whom the wear and tear of their efforts on behalf of science, civilisation, and the future emancipation of mankind had ended by converting into confirmed drunkards. Perhaps it need hardly be said that Tientietnikov soon discovered how things stood, and withdrew from the association; but, meanwhile, the latter had had the misfortune so to have engaged in dealings not wholly creditable to gentlemen of noble origin as likewise to have become entangled in dealings with the police. Consequently, it is not to be wondered at that, though Tientietnikov had long severed his connection with the society and its policy, he still remained uneasy in his mind as to what might even yet be the result.)

However, his fears vanished the instant that the guest saluted him with marked politeness and explained, with many deferential poises of the head, and in terms at once civil and concise, that for some time past he (the newcomer) had been touring the Russian Empire on business and in the pursuit of knowledge, that the Empire abounded in objects of interest—not to mention a plenitude of manufactures and a great diversity of soil, and that, in spite of the fact that he was greatly struck with the amenities of his host's domain, he would certainly not have presumed to intrude at such an inconvenient hour but for the circumstance that the inclement spring weather, added to the state of the roads, had necessitated sundry repairs to his carriage at the hands of wheelwrights and blacksmiths. Finally he declared that, even if this last had NOT happened, he would still have felt unable to deny himself the pleasure of offering to his host that meed of homage which was the latter's due.

This speech—a speech of fascinating bonhomie—delivered, the guest executed a sort of shuffle with a half-boot of patent leather studded with buttons of mother-of-pearl, and followed that up by (in spite of his pronounced rotundity of figure) stepping backwards with all the élanof an india-rubber ball.

From this the somewhat reassured Tientietnikov concluded that his visitor must be a literary, knowledge-seeking professor who was engaged in roaming the country in search of botanical specimens and fossils; wherefore he hastened to express both his readiness to further the visitor's objects (whatever they might be) and his personal willingness to provide him with the requisite wheelwrights and blacksmiths. Meanwhile he begged his guest to consider himself at home, and, after seating him in an armchair, made preparations to listen to the newcomer's discourse on natural history.

But the newcomer applied himself, rather, to phenomena of the internal world, saying that his life might be likened to a barque tossed on the crests of perfidious billows, that in his time he had been fated to play many parts, and that on more than one occasion his life had stood in danger at the hands of foes. At the same time, these tidings were communicated in a manner calculated to show that the speaker was also a man of PRACTICAL capabilities. In conclusion, the visitor took out a cambric pocket-handkerchief, and sneezed into it with a vehemence wholly new to Tientietnikov's experience. In fact, the sneeze rather resembled the note which, at times, the trombone of an orchestra appears to utter not so much from its proper place on the platform as from the immediate neighbourhood of the listener's ear. And as the echoes of the drowsy mansion resounded to the report of the explosion there followed upon the same a wave of perfume, skilfully wafted abroad with a flourish of the eau-de-Cologne-scented handkerchief.

By this time the reader will have guessed that the visitor was none other than our old and respected friend Paul Ivanovitch Chichikov. Naturally, time had not spared him his share of anxieties and alarms; wherefore his exterior had come to look a trifle more elderly, his frockcoat had taken on a suggestion of shabbiness, and britchka, coachman, valet, horses, and harness alike had about them a sort of second-hand, worse-for-wear effect. Evidently the Chichikovian finances were not in the most flourishing of conditions. Nevertheless, the old expression of face, the old air of breeding and refinement, remained unimpaired, and our hero had even improved in the art of walking and turning with grace, and of dexterously crossing one leg over the other when taking a seat. Also, his mildness of diction, his discreet moderation of word and phrase, survived in, if anything, increased measure, and he bore himself with a skill which caused his tactfulness to surpass itself in sureness of aplomb. And all these accomplishments had their effect further heightened by a snowy immaculateness of collar and dickey, and an absence of dust from his frockcoat, as complete as though he had just arrived to attend a nameday festival. Lastly, his cheeks and chin were of such neat cleanshavenness that no one but a blind man could have failed to admire their rounded contours.

From that moment onwards great changes took place in Tientietnikov's establishment, and certain of its rooms assumed an unwonted air of cleanliness and order. The rooms in question were those assigned to Chichikov, while one other apartment—a little front chamber opening into the hall—became permeated with Petrushka's own peculiar smell. But this lasted only for a little while, for presently Petrushka was transferred to the servants' quarters, a course which ought to have been adopted in the first instance.

During the initial days of Chichikov's sojourn, Tientietnikov feared rather to lose his independence, inasmuch as he thought that his guest might hamper his movements, and bring about alterations in the established routine of the place. But these fears proved groundless, for Paul Ivanovitch displayed an extraordinary aptitude for accommodating himself to his new position. To begin with, he encouraged his host in his philosophical inertia by saying that the latter would help Tientietnikov to become a centenarian. Next, in the matter of a life of isolation, he hit things off exactly by remarking that such a life bred in a man a capacity for high thinking. Lastly, as he inspected the library and dilated on books in general, he contrived an opportunity to observe that literature safeguarded a man from a tendency to waste his time. In short, the few words of which he delivered himself were brief, but invariably to the point. And this discretion of speech was outdone by his discretion of conduct. That is to say, whether entering or leaving the room, he never wearied his host with a question if Tientietnikov had the air of being disinclined to talk; and with equal satisfaction the guest could either play chess or hold his tongue. Consequently Tientietnikov said to himself:

“For the first time in my life I have met with a man with whom it is possible to live. In general, not many of the type exist in Russia, and, though clever, good-humoured, well-educated men abound, one would be hard put to it to find an individual of equable temperament with whom one could share a roof for centuries without a quarrel arising. Anyway, Chichikov is the first of his sort that I have met.”

For his part, Chichikov was only too delighted to reside with a person so quiet and agreeable as his host. Of a wandering life he was temporarily weary, and to rest, even for a month, in such a beautiful spot, and in sight of green fields and the slow flowering of spring, was likely to benefit him also from the hygienic point of view. And, indeed, a more delightful retreat in which to recuperate could not possibly have been found. The spring, long retarded by previous cold, had now begun in all its comeliness, and life was rampant. Already, over the first emerald of the grass, the dandelion was showing yellow, and the red-pink anemone was hanging its tender head; while the surface of every pond was a swarm of dancing gnats and midges, and the water-spider was being joined in their pursuit by birds which gathered from every quarter to the vantage-ground of the dry reeds. Every species of creature also seemed to be assembling in concourse, and taking stock of one another. Suddenly the earth became populous, the forest had opened its eyes, and the meadows were lifting up their voice in song. In the same way had choral dances begun to be weaved in the village, and everywhere that the eye turned there was merriment. What brightness in the green of nature, what freshness in the air, what singing of birds in the gardens of the mansion, what general joy and rapture and exaltation! Particularly in the village might the shouting and singing have been in honour of a wedding!

Chichikov walked hither, thither, and everywhere—a pursuit for which there was ample choice and facility. At one time he would direct his steps along the edge of the flat tableland, and contemplate the depths below, where still there lay sheets of water left by the floods of winter, and where the island-like patches of forest showed leafless boughs; while at another time he would plunge into the thicket and ravine country, where nests of birds weighted branches almost to the ground, and the sky was darkened with the criss-cross flight of cawing rooks. Again, the drier portions of the meadows could be crossed to the river wharves, whence the first barges were just beginning to set forth with pea-meal and barley and wheat, while at the same time one's ear would be caught with the sound of some mill resuming its functions as once more the water turned the wheel. Chichikov would also walk afield to watch the early tillage operations of the season, and observe how the blackness of a new furrow would make its way across the expanse of green, and how the sower, rhythmically striking his hand against the pannier slung across his breast, would scatter his fistfuls of seed with equal distribution, apportioning not a grain too much to one side or to the other.

In fact, Chichikov went everywhere. He chatted and talked, now with the bailiff, now with a peasant, now with a miller, and inquired into the manner and nature of everything, and sought information as to how an estate was managed, and at what price corn was selling, and what species of grain was best for spring and autumn grinding, and what was the name of each peasant, and who were his kinsfolk, and where he had bought his cow, and what he fed his pigs on. Chichikov also made inquiry concerning the number of peasants who had lately died: but of these there appeared to be few. And suddenly his quick eye discerned that Tientietnikov's estate was not being worked as it might have been—that much neglect and listlessness and pilfering and drunkenness was abroad; and on perceiving this, he thought to himself: “What a fool is that Tientietnikov! To think of letting a property like this decay when he might be drawing from it an income of fifty thousand roubles a year!”

Also, more than once, while taking these walks, our hero pondered the idea of himself becoming a landowner—not now, of course, but later, when his chief aim should have been achieved, and he had got into his hands the necessary means for living the quiet life of the proprietor of an estate. Yes, and at these times there would include itself in his castle-building the figure of a young, fresh, fair-faced maiden of the mercantile or other rich grade of society, a woman who could both play and sing. He also dreamed of little descendants who should perpetuate the name of Chichikov; perhaps a frolicsome little boy and a fair young daughter, or possibly, two boys and quite two or three daughters; so that all should know that he had really lived and had his being, that he had not merely roamed the world like a spectre or a shadow; so that for him and his the country should never be put to shame. And from that he would go on to fancy that a title appended to his rank would not be a bad thing—the title of State Councillor, for instance, which was deserving of all honour and respect. Ah, it is a common thing for a man who is taking a solitary walk so to detach himself from the irksome realities of the present that he is able to stir and to excite and to provoke his imagination to the conception of things he knows can never really come to pass!

Chichikov's servants also found the mansion to their taste, and, like their master, speedily made themselves at home in it. In particular did Petrushka make friends with Grigory the butler, although at first the pair showed a tendency to outbrag one another—Petrushka beginning by throwing dust in Grigory's eyes on the score of his (Petrushka's) travels, and Grigory taking him down a peg or two by referring to St. Petersburg (a city which Petrushka had never visited), and Petrushka seeking to recover lost ground by dilating on towns which he HAD visited, and Grigory capping this by naming some town which is not to be found on any map in existence, and then estimating the journey thither as at least thirty thousand versts—a statement which would so completely flabbergast the henchman of Chichikov's suite that he would be left staring open-mouthed, amid the general laughter of the domestic staff. However, as I say, the pair ended by swearing eternal friendship with one another, and making a practice of resorting to the village tavern in company.

For Selifan, however, the place had a charm of a different kind. That is to say, each evening there would take place in the village a singing of songs and a weaving of country dances; and so shapely and buxom were the maidens—maidens of a type hard to find in our present-day villages on large estates—that he would stand for hours wondering which of them was the best. White-necked and white-bosomed, all had great roving eyes, the gait of peacocks, and hair reaching to the waist. And as, with his hands clasping theirs, he glided hither and thither in the dance, or retired backwards towards a wall with a row of other young fellows, and then, with them, returned to meet the damsels—all singing in chorus (and laughing as they sang it), “Boyars, show me my bridegroom!” and dusk was falling gently, and from the other side of the river there kept coming far, faint, plaintive echoes of the melody—well, then our Selifan hardly knew whether he were standing upon his head or his heels. Later, when sleeping and when waking, both at noon and at twilight, he would seem still to be holding a pair of white hands, and moving in the dance.

Chichikov's horses also found nothing of which to disapprove. Yes, both the bay, the Assessor, and the skewbald accounted residence at Tientietnikov's a most comfortable affair, and voted the oats excellent, and the arrangement of the stables beyond all cavil. True, on this occasion each horse had a stall to himself; yet, by looking over the intervening partition, it was possible always to see one's fellows, and, should a neighbour take it into his head to utter a neigh, to answer it at once.

As for the errand which had hitherto led Chichikov to travel about Russia, he had now decided to move very cautiously and secretly in the matter. In fact, on noticing that Tientietnikov went in absorbedly for reading and for talking philosophy, the visitor said to himself, “No—I had better begin at the other end,” and proceeded first to feel his way among the servants of the establishment. From them he learnt several things, and, in particular, that the barin had been wont to go and call upon a certain General in the neighbourhood, and that the General possessed a daughter, and that she and Tientietnikov had had an affair of some sort, but that the pair had subsequently parted, and gone their several ways. For that matter, Chichikov himself had noticed that Tientietnikov was in the habit of drawing heads of which each representation exactly resembled the rest.

Once, as he sat tapping his silver snuff-box after luncheon, Chichikov remarked:

“One thing you lack, and only one, Andrei Ivanovitch.”

“What is that?” asked his host.

“A female friend or two,” replied Chichikov. Tientietnikov made no rejoinder, and the conversation came temporarily to an end.

But Chichikov was not to be discouraged; wherefore, while waiting for supper and talking on different subjects, he seized an opportunity to interject:

“Do you know, it would do you no harm to marry.”

As before, Tientietnikov did not reply, and the renewed mention of the subject seemed to have annoyed him.

For the third time—it was after supper—Chichikov returned to the charge by remarking:

“To-day, as I was walking round your property, I could not help thinking that marriage would do you a great deal of good. Otherwise you will develop into a hypochondriac.”

Whether Chichikov's words now voiced sufficiently the note of persuasion, or whether Tientietnikov happened, at the moment, to be unusually disposed to frankness, at all events the young landowner sighed, and then responded as he expelled a puff of tobacco smoke:

“To attain anything, Paul Ivanovitch, one needs to have been born under a lucky star.”

And he related to his guest the whole history of his acquaintanceship and subsequent rupture with the General.

As Chichikov listened to the recital, and gradually realised that the affair had arisen merely out of a chance word on the General's part, he was astounded beyond measure, and gazed at Tientietnikov without knowing what to make of him.

“Andrei Ivanovitch,” he said at length, “what was there to take offence at?”

“Nothing, as regards the actual words spoken,” replied the other. “The offence lay, rather, in the insult conveyed in the General's tone.” Tientietnikov was a kindly and peaceable man, yet his eyes flashed as he said this, and his voice vibrated with wounded feeling.

“Yet, even then, need you have taken it so much amiss?”

“What? Could I have gone on visiting him as before?”

“Certainly. No great harm had been done?”

“I disagree with you. Had he been an old man in a humble station of life, instead of a proud and swaggering officer, I should not have minded so much. But, as it was, I could not, and would not, brook his words.”

“A curious fellow, this Tientietnikov!” thought Chichikov to himself.

“A curious fellow, this Chichikov!” was Tientietnikov's inward reflection.

“I tell you what,” resumed Chichikov. “To-morrow I myself will go and see the General.”

“To what purpose?” asked Tientietnikov, with astonishment and distrust in his eyes.

“To offer him an assurance of my personal respect.”

“A strange fellow, this Chichikov!” reflected Tientietnikov.

“A strange fellow, this Tientietnikov!” thought Chichikov, and then added aloud: “Yes, I will go and see him at ten o'clock to-morrow; but since my britchka is not yet altogether in travelling order, would you be so good as to lend me your koliaska for the purpose?”

第二部（残稿） 第一章

为什么我们要从我们的祖国的荒僻和边鄙之处，把人们掘了出来，拉了出来，单将我们的生活的空虚，而且专是空虚和可怜的缺点，来公然展览的？——但如果这是作者的特性，如果他有一种特别的脾气，就只会这一件事：从我们的祖国的荒僻和边鄙之处，把人们掘了出来，来描写我们的生活的空虚，而且专是空虚和可怜的缺点，那又有什么法子呢？于是我们又跑到荒僻之处的中心，又闯进一个寂寥的，凄凉的窠里来了。而且还是怎样的一个窠，怎样的一个荒僻之处呵！

恰如带着炮塔和角堡的无际的城墙一样，一座不断的连山，联绵曲折着有一千维尔斯他之远。它倨傲的，尊严的耸在无边的平野里，忽而是精光的粘土和白垩的断崖，忽而是到处开裂的崩坠的绝壁，忽而又是碧绿的山顶模样，被着从枯株上发出的新丛，远望就像柔软的羊皮一样，忽而终于是茂密的，幽暗的森林了，奇怪得很，还没有遭过斤斧。那溪流呢，到处在高岸间潺湲，跟着山蜿蜒曲折，只有几处离开了它，飞到平野和牧场那里去，流作闪闪的弯曲，突然不见了，还在白桦，白杨，或者赤杨的林中，映着辉煌的阳光，灿然一闪，但到底又胜利的从昏暗中出现，受着每一曲折之处的小桥，水磨和堤防的相送，奔波而去了。

有一处地方，是险峻的山地，特别满饰着新的绿树的螺发，仗着山地的不一律，由人力的树艺，南北的植物都聚起来了。槲树，枫树，梨树和柳丛，蒌蒿和白桦，还有绕着蛇麻的山薇，这边协力着，彼此互助着滋生，那边妨碍着，挤得紧紧的，都满生在险峻的山上。山顶上面，在碧绿的枝梢间，夹杂着地主老爷的红屋顶，藏在背后的农家的屋角和屋梁，主邸的高楼和它那雕花的露台和半圆的窗户——再在这挨挤的房屋和树木的一团之上，是一所旧式的教堂，将它那五个贴金的光辉灿烂的阁顶耸在天空中。这阁顶上装饰着金的雕镂的十字架，是用同一质料的也施雕镂的锁索，系在圆顶格上的，远远一望，令人觉得好像空气被毫无支架，浮在蔚蓝的天宇中的发光的铸了钱的黄金，烧得红光闪闪。而这树木，屋顶和十字架的一团，又出色的倒映在溪水里，这里有高大的不等样的杨柳，一部份剩在岸上，一部份站在水中，把它那纠缠着碧绿的，粘腻的水草和茂盛的睡莲的枝叶浸入溪流，仿佛在凝眺这辉煌的景象。

这风景实在很出色，然而从高处向着山谷，从府邸的高楼向着远方的眺望，却还要美丽得多。没有一个宾客，没有一个访问者能够淡然的在露台上久立，他总是惊异得喘不出气来，只好大声呼喊道：“天哪，这里是多么旷远和开展呵！”一片无边无际的空阔，在眼前展开：点缀着小树林和水磨的牧场后面，耸立着郁苍的森林，像一条微微发光的丝带；森林之后是在渐远渐昏的空际，隐现着闪闪的黄色的沙丘；接着这就又是森林，青苍隐约，恰如辽阔的大海或者平远的烟霭；后面又是沙丘，已经没有前一道的清楚了，然而还是很分明的在黄苍苍的空气中发闪。在远远的地平线上，看见山脊的轮廓：这是白垩岩，虽在极坏的天候，也自灿然发白，似乎为永久的太阳所照射。在这一部份是石膏岩的山脚下，由雪白的质地衬托出几个烟雾似的依稀的斑点来：这是远处的乡村，却已不是人的目力所能辨别——但见一个教堂的金色的尖顶，炎炎的火花似的忽明忽灭，令人觉得这该是住着许多人们的较大的村庄。但全体却沉浸于深的寂静中，绝不被在澄净的大气里飘扬，忽又在遥远的寥廓里消失的隐约可闻的空际歌人的歌词所妨碍。总而言之，是没有一个宾客和访问者能在露台上静下来的；如果站着凝眺了一两点钟，他就总是反复着这句话：“天哪，这里是多么旷远和开展呵！”

然而这宛然是不可攻取的城寨，从这方面并无道路可通的田庄的居人和地主，是什么人呢？人应该从别一方面去——那地方有许多散种的槲树，在欣欣然迎接渐渐临近的行人，远伸着宽阔的枝条，像一个朋友的臂膊，把人一直引到邸宅那里去，那屋顶，是我们已经从后面看见过了的，现在却完全显现了，在一大排农人小屋，带着雕刻的屋栋和屋角，以及它那十字架和雕镂的悬空的锁索，都在发着金光的教堂的中间。

这是忒莱玛拉罕斯克省的地主安特来·伊凡诺维支·田退德尼科夫的地方。这福人是一个三十三岁的年青的汉子，而且还没有结过婚。

这地主安特来·伊凡诺维支·田退德尼科夫又是何等样人呢？是什么人物？特质怎样，性格如何？——那我们可当然应该去打听亲爱的邻人了，好心的读者女士们。邻人们中的一个，是退伍佐官和快乐主义者一流，现在是已经死掉了，往往用这样的话来说明他道：“一匹极平常的猪狗！”一位将军，住在相距大约十维尔斯他的地方，时常说：“这小伙子并不蠢，但是他脑袋里装得太多了。我能够帮助他，因为我在彼得堡有着一点连络，而且在……”将军从来没有说完他的话。地方审判厅长的回答却用了这样的形式：“明天我要向他收取还没完清的税款去了！”一个农夫，对于他的主人是何等样人的问题，简直什么回答也没有。总而言之，邻人们对他所抱的意见，是很不高妙的。但去掉成见的来说，安特来·伊凡诺维支却实在并不是坏人，倒仅仅是无所为的活在世上的一个。就是没有他，无所为的活在世上的家伙也多得很，为什么田退德尼科夫就不该这么着呢？至于其余，我们只将他每天相同的一天的生活，给一个简短的摘要，他是怎样的性格，他的生活，和围绕着他的天然之美相关到怎样，请读者由此自去判断就是了。

每天早上，他照例醒得很晚，于是坐在床上，很久很久的擦眼睛。晦气的是他的眼睛小得很，所以这工作就需要很多的时光。在这施行期间，有一个汉子，名叫米哈罗，拿着一个面盆和一条手巾，站在房门口。这可怜的米哈罗在这里总得站个点把钟；后来走到厨房里去了，于是仍复回转来；但他的主人却还是坐在床上，尽在擦他的眼睛。然而他终于跳起来了，洗过手脸，穿好睡衣，走进客厅里去喝一杯茶，咖啡，可可，或者还有鲜牛奶。他总是慢吞吞的喝，一面胡乱的撒散着面包屑，漠不关心的到处落着烟卷灰。单是吃早餐，他就要坐到两点钟，但是这还不够。他又取一杯凉茶，慢慢的走到对着庭园的窗口去，在这里，是每天演着这样的一出的。

首先，是侍者性质的家丁格力戈黎，和管家女贝菲利耶夫娜吵架，这是他照例用了这样的话来道白的：“哼，你这贱货，你这不中用的雌儿的你！你还是闭了嘴的好，你这野种！”

“你要这样吗？”这雌儿或是贝菲利耶夫娜给他看一看捏紧的拳头，怒吼着，这位雌儿，虽然极喜欢锁在自己箱子里的葡萄干，果子酱和别的甜东西，但是并非没有危险，态度也实在很粗野，勇壮的。

“你还和当差的打过架哩，你这沙泥，轻贱的。”格力戈黎叫喊道。

“那当差的可也正像你一样，是一个贼骨头呀，你想是老爷不知道你吗？他可是在那里，什么都听见。”

“老爷在那里呀？”

“他坐在窗口，什么都看见。”

一点不错，老爷坐在窗口，什么都看见。

还有来添凑这所多玛和哥摩剌(1)的，是一个孩子在院子里放声大叫，因为母亲给了他一个耳光，还有一匹猎狗也一下子坐倒，狂吠起来了；厨子从窗口倒出沸水来，把它烫坏；总而言之，是一切都咆哮，喧嚷得令人受不住。那主人却看着一切，听着一切，待到这吵闹非常激烈，快要妨碍他田退德尼科夫的无所为了，他这才派人到院子里来，说道，但愿下面闹得轻一点。

午餐之前的两点钟，安特来·伊凡诺维支是坐在书房里，做着一部伟大的著作，要从所有一切的立场，社会的，政治的，哲学的和宗教的，来把捉和照见全体俄罗斯；并且解决时代所给与的困难的悬案和问题，分明的决定俄国的伟大的将来，是在那一条道路上；总而言之，这是一部现代人才能够计画出来的著作。但首先是关于他那主意的杰构的布置：咬着笔干，在纸上画一点花儿，于是又把一切都推在一边；另外拿起一本书，一直到午餐时候不放下。一面喝羹汤，添酱油，吃烧肉以及甜点心，一面慢慢的看着这本书，弄得别的肴馔完全冰冷了，有些还简直没有动。于是又喝下一杯咖啡去，吸起烟斗儿，独自玩一局象棋做消遣。到晚餐时候为止，此外还做些什么呢——可实在很难说。我想，大概是什么也不做了。

这三十三岁的年青人，就总是穿着睡衣，不系领带，完全孤独而且离开了世界，消遣着他的时光。散步和奔波，他不喜欢，他从来不高兴到外面去走走，或者开一扇窗户，把新鲜空气放进房里来。乡村的美丽的风景，宾客和访问者是不胜其叹赏的，但对于主人自己，却仿佛一无所有，读者由此可以知道，这安特来·伊凡诺维支·田退德尼科夫，是属于在俄国已经绝迹，先前是叫作睡帽，废料，熊皮等等的一大群里面的，现在我可实在找不出名目。这样的性质，是生成的，还是置身严厉的环境里，作为一个悲凉的生活关系的出产，造了出来的，是一个问题。要来解答，也许还是讲一讲安特来·伊凡诺维支的童年和学龄的故事，较为合适罢。

开初，是大家都说他会很有些聪明的。到十二岁，有一点病态和幻想了，但以神经锐敏的儿童，进了一个学校，那校长，是一位当时实在很不平常的人：是少年们的偶像，所有教师们的惊奇的模范，亚历山大·保甫洛维支有一种非常微妙的感觉。他多么熟悉俄国人的性质呵！他多么知道孩子的心情呵！他多么懂得引导和操纵儿童呵！刁滑的和捣乱的如果闹出事情来，没有一个不自己去找校长招认他的胡行和坏事的。然而这还不是全部：他受了严重的责罚，但小滑头却并不因此垂头丧气，反比先前更加昂然的走出屋子来。他的脸上有着新鲜的勇气模样的东西，一种心里的声音在告诉他道：“前去！快点站起，再静静的立定罢。虽然你跌倒了。”校长对于他的少年们从不多讲好规矩。他单是常常说：“我只希望我的学生一件事：就是他们伶俐和懂事，此外什么也没有！谁有想要聪明的雄心，他就没有工夫胡闹；那胡闹也就自然消灭了。”而且也真是这样子，胡闹完全消灭了，一个不肯用功的学生，只好受他的同窗的轻蔑。年纪大的蠢才和傻子，就得甘受最年幼者给他起的极坏的绰号，不能动一动他们的毫毛。“这太过了！”许多人说。“孩子太伶俐，就会骄傲的。”——“不，毫没有太过，”他回答道，“资质低的学生，我是不久留在校里的，只要他修完了课程，就足够了；但给资质好的，我却还有别样的科目。”而且实在，资质好的可真得修完一种别样的课程。他许可看许多捣乱和胡闹，毫不想去禁止它；在孩子的这轻举妄动里，他看见他们的精神活动的滋长的开端，他还声明说，在他，这是少不得的，倒非常必要，恰如一个医生的看疹子——为了精密的调查人的内部，究竟在怎样的发展着起来。

然而孩子们也多么爱他呵！孩子对他的父母，也没有这样的依恋和亲爱，在不顾前后的年纪，投入怀抱的奔放的情热，也不及对于他的爱的强烈和坚牢。他的感恩的门徒们，一直到入墓，一直到临终，都在他久经死去的先生的生辰，举起酒杯，来作纪念，闭了眼睛，为他下感伤之泪。从他嘴里得一句小小的夸奖，学生们就高兴得发抖，萌生努力的志愿，要胜过所有的同窗。没有资质的人，他是不给久留在校里的；他们只须修完一种短短的课程；但有资质的，就得做加倍的学业，而全由特选生组成的最高年级，则和别的学校完全不相同。到这一级，这才把别的胡涂虫所施教于孩子的东西，来向学生们施教——就是发达的理性，不自戏弄，然而了然，安受讥笑，宽恕昏愚，力戒轻率，不失坚忍，决不报怨，长保俨然的宁静和坚定的自持；只要遇到可以把人炼成一个强毅的人的一切，就来实行，他自己也和学生们在不断的尝试和实验。唉唉，他是多么深通人生的科学呵！

他的教师的数目不很多，大部份的学科都由他自己教。他知道不玩学者的排场，不用难懂的术语，不说高远的学说和胖大的空谈，而讲述学问的精神，就是还未成年的人，也立刻懂得，他将这智识有什么用。从一切学问里，他只选取教人成为祖国的一个公民的东西。他的讲义，大半是关于青年的将来的，且又善于将他们的人生轨道的全局，在学生面前展开，使青年们在学校的桌子上，那精神的一切思维和梦想，却已在将来的职务：为国家出力。他对他们毫不遮瞒：无论是起于人生前路的绝望和艰难，无论是算着他们的试炼和诱惑，都以绝无粉饰的裸露，陈在他们的眼前，什么隐讳也没有。他又熟悉一切官职和职务，好像亲身经历过似的。奇怪得很，也许是他们起了非常强烈的雄心，也许是在这非凡的教育家的眼里，含着叱咤青年“前去”的东西罢——这句话，是俄国人非常耳熟，也在他们的敏感的天性上，有伟大的神奇作用的——总而言之，青年们就立刻去找寻艰苦，渴望着克服一种困难或者一个障碍，以及显出英毅和神勇的地方。修完了这课程的，固然非常之少，然而也都是坚强的好汉，所谓站在硝烟里面的。出去办公，他们也只得到不安稳的地位，比他们聪明的许多人，已经耐不下去，为了小小的个人的不舒服，就放弃一切，或者行乐，偷懒，落在骗子和强盗的手里了。他们却站得极稳，毫不动摇的在自己的哨位上，还由认识人物和性灵，而更加老练，也将一种强有力的道德的影响，给与了不良和不正的人们。

孩子的热烈的雄心，是只为着到底能够编进这学级里去的思想，鼓动了很久的。给我们的田退德尼科夫，人总以为再没有比这样的教育家更好的了。但不幸的是刚在允许他编入级里的时候——这是他非常想望的——这位非凡的教师竟突然死掉了。对于少年人，这真是一个大打击，一个吓人的，无可补救的损失。现在是学校立刻两样了。亚历山大·彼得洛维支的位置上，来了一个叫作菲陀尔·伊凡诺维支的人。他首先是定出单管表面的章程和严厉的规则，并且向孩子们督促着只有成年人才能做到的东西。他把自由的解放，看作粗蛮和放纵。恰如反对着他的前任校长似的，在第一天，他就声明在学问上的理解和进步，毫无价值，最要紧的是好品行。然而怪哉！菲陀尔·伊凡诺维支在这么竭力经营的好品行，从他的学生那里却是得不到。他们玩着一切坏道儿，不过很秘密。白天是好像有点秩序的，但到夜里，可就闹起粗野的不拘礼节的筵宴和小吃来了。

在学问上也弄得很奇怪，菲陀尔·伊凡诺维支请了有着新的见解和主意的新教师。他们向学生们落下新的言语和术语的很急的雹子来；他们的开讲，并不怠慢逻辑的联系，也注意于科学的新进步，又不缺少热烈和精诚——然而，唉唉，他们的学问上，却欠缺真实的生活！死知识讲出来有些硬，而且死气沉沉的。一句话，就是什么都颠倒了。对于学校当局和师长的尊敬，完全失坠，大家嘲笑着教师，连校长也叫作菲地加(2)，起了“打鼓手”以及别样出色的绰号了。暗暗的起了坏风气，简直毫不再有烂漫的天真，那些学生们就闹着很狡猾的乱子，令人只好从中开除了许多。两年之间，这学校就几乎面目全非了。

安特来·伊凡诺维支的性质是安静，温和的。他反对同学们在校长住宅的窗前，毫无规矩的留住了一个小妇人，来开不讲礼节的夜宴，也不赞成他们的对于宗教的攻击和坏话，只因为偶然有一个真很愚蠢的教士来做教师，他们闹得过火了。不但如此，他是梦想着自己的魂灵，发源于天国的。这还不至于迷惑他，然而他立刻因此很懊丧。他的雄心已经觉醒了，可惜的是并无用武之地。这雄心，也许还是没有起来的好罢。安特来·伊凡诺维支听着教授们在讲台上大发气焰，一面就记起了并不这么起劲，却也总是说得很明白，很易解的先前的先生。他有什么对象和学课没有听呢！哲学，医学，还有法学，世界通史，详细到整整三年间，教授总算讲完了序论和关于所谓德意志联邦的成立——天知道他什么还没有听了，然而这些都塞在他脑子里，像一堆歪七竖八的零碎——亏得他天质好，觉到了这并不是正当的教育法，但要怎样才算是正当的呢——他却自己也不明白。他于是时常记起亚历山大·彼得洛维支来，心里沉钿钿的，悲伤到不知道要怎么样才好。

然而青春还有着将来，这正是它的幸福。到得快要毕业的时候，他的心在胸膛里跳得很活泼了。他对自己说：“这一切可还不是人生，真的人生是要到为国效力这才开始的，那可进了大有作为的时期了。”于是他毫不顾及使所有宾客耸然惊叹的美丽的乡村，也不去拜扫他父母的坟墓，恰如一切雄才大志的人们一样，照着一切青年所抱的热烈的目的，赶忙跑上彼得堡去了，那些青年们，就是都为了给国家去服务，为了赚堂皇的履历，或者也不过为了想添一点我们那冰冷的，没有颜色的，昏昏沉沉的社会的情态，从俄国的各地，聚到这里来的。然而安特来·伊凡诺维支的雄心大志，立刻被他的叔父，现任四等官阿奴弗黎·伊凡诺维支挫折了，他直捷的说，第一要紧的是写得一笔好字！除此之外，什么都不相干；要不然，他就没法做到大官或者得着高级的地位。仗了他叔父的非常的尽力和庇护，总算给他在属下的衙门里找到了一个小位置。当他跨进那发光的地板，亮漆的桌子的辉煌华丽的大厅，仿佛国家的最高的勋臣，就坐在这里决定全国的运命的时候，当他看见了漂亮的绅士一大堆，坐着歪了头，笔尖写得飕飕的发响，招呼他坐在一顶桌子前，去抄一件公事的时候（好像是故意给他毫无意思的东西的，只为着三个卢布的诉讼，这么那么的已经抄写了半个年头了），一种非常奇怪的感情，就来侵袭这未经世故的青年了。环坐在他周围的绅士们，使他明明白白的记起学校的生徒来。他们中的有几个，在听讲义时一心一意的只看翻译出来的无聊的小说，就使情形更加神似；他们把小说夹在公文的页子里，装作好像在检查案卷模样，长官在门口一出现，他也就吃一惊。这一切都使他很诧异，而且总觉得他先前的工作，到底更其有意义，而办公的豫备，也远胜于实在的办公。他并神往于自己的学校时代了。亚历山大·彼得洛维支就忽然像活着似的站在他的眼前——他好容易这才熬住了眼泪。

全部的屋子都旋转起来。桌子和官员，转得混成一团。他眼前骤然一黑，几乎倒在地上了。“不能，”他一定神，就对自己说，“纵使事务见得这么琐屑，我可也要办的。”他鼓起勇气之后，就决心像别人一样，把自己的事务安心办下去。

世界那里会毫无快乐？就是彼得堡，表面上虽然见得粗糙和阴郁，却也给人许多乐趣的。外面君临着三十三度的怕人的严寒；风卷雪的巫女，是朔方的孩儿，恰如脱了束缚的恶魔似的，咆哮着在空中奔腾，愤愤的把雪片打着街道，粘住人们的眼睛，还用白粉洒在人的皮袍和外套的领子上，动物的嘴脸上；但在盘旋交错的雪花之间，那里的高高的五层楼上，却令人眷念的闪着一个可爱的明窗；在舒适的屋子里，在得宜的脂油烛光和茶炊的沸腾音响的旁边，交换着温暖心神的意见，朗吟着上帝送给他所眷爱的俄国的一大批辉煌超妙的诗篇，许多青年的心，都颤动的潮涌起来，这在广大的南方的天宇下，是决不会有的。

田退德尼科夫立刻惯于他的职务了，然而这并不是他先前所想象的，合于他的宗旨的光荣的事业，倒是所谓第二义。他的办公只不过消磨时光，真的爱惜的却是其余的闲空的一瞬息。他的叔父现任四等官，刚以为侄子是还会好一点的，然而立刻碰了一个大钉子。我们在这里应该说明，在安特来·伊凡诺维支的许多朋友里面，有两个年青人，是属于所谓“脾气大”的人们一类的。他们俩都是古怪的不平稳的性格，不但对于不正不肯忍受，连对于他们看来好像不正的也决不肯忍受。天性并不坏，但他的行为却不伶俐，没秩序，自己对人非常之褊狭，一面却要别人凡事都万分的周详。他们的火一般的谈吐和对于社会的义愤的表示，给了田退德尼科夫一个强有力的影响。在交际中，他的神经也锐敏起来，觉得到极小的感触和刺戟了。他从他们学习了注意一切小事情，先前是并不措意的。菲陀尔·菲陀罗维支·莱尼金，是设在那堂皇的大厅里的一科的科长，忽然招了他的厌恶了。他觉得这莱尼金和上司说话，就简直变了一块糖，满脸浮着讨厌的甜腻腻的微笑，但转过来对着他的属下，却立刻摆出一副威严腔；而且也如凡是小人之流，总在留心的一样，有谁在大节日不到他家里去拜访，他总不会忘记把那人的姓名记在门房里的簿子上。于是他对他起了一种按捺不住的，近于切身的反感。好像有恶鬼在螫他，撩他似的，总想给菲陀尔·菲陀罗维支一个不舒服。他怀着秘密的高兴在等机会，也立刻就得到了。有一回，他对科长很粗暴，弄到当局要他去谢罪，或者就辞职。他就辞了职。他的叔父，现任四等官，骇的不得了，跑到他那里去恳求他道：“看上帝面上，安特来·伊凡诺维支！我求你！你这是怎么的？单为了看得一个上司不顺眼，你就把你全盘的幸而弄到手里的前程统统玩掉了！这是什么意思呀？如果谁都这么干，衙门里就要一个都不剩了。你明白一点罢……改掉你的虚矫之气和你的自负，到他那里去和他好好的说一说罢！”

“可是完全不是在这一点呵，亲爱的叔父。”那侄儿说。“向他去请求宽恕，我倒是毫不难办的。这实在是我的过失，他是我的上司，我不该向他这么的说话。然而事情却在这里：我还有一个别样的职务和别样的使命，我有三百个农奴，我的田地出息坏，我的管家又是一个傻子。如果衙门里叫别人补了我的缺，来眷写我的公文，国家的损失是并不很多的，但倘使三百个农奴缴不出他们的捐税，那损失可就很大了。请你想一想罢，我是地主呀，闲散的职业并不是我的事。如果我来用心于委任给我的农人的地位的保护和提高，给国家造成三百个有用的，谨慎和勤快的小百姓——那么，我的事情，还比一个什么科长莱尼金做得少吗？”

现任四等官吃了一吓，大张了嘴巴，这样的一番话，他是没有料到的。他想了一下，这才说出一点这种话：“不过……唉唉，你在怎么想呀？你不能把自己埋在乡下罢？农人可并不是你的前程呵！这里却两样，时常会遇见一个将军，或者一个公爵的。只要你高兴，你也可以走过那里的一所堂皇高敞的屋子。这里有煤气灯，有欧洲工业，都看得见！那里却只有村夫村妇。为什么你竟要把自己弄到那么无智识的人们里去了？”

然而叔父的这竭力晓谕的抗议和说明，对于侄儿并没有好影响。他觉得乡村乃是自由的幽栖，好梦和深思的乳母，有用之业的唯一的原野了。他早经收集了关于农业的最新的书籍。总而言之，在这番对话的两礼拜之后，他已在他年青时代曾经生活过的地方，使所有宾客非常惊叹的乡曲的附近了。一种全新的感情来激励他。他的心灵中，又觉醒了旧日的久已褪色的印象。许多地方，他是早经忘却了的，就很诧异的看着一路的美丽之处，仿佛一个生客。忽然间，为了一种莫名其妙的原因，他的心剧烈的跳动起来了。但道路进了大森林的茂密所形成的狭窄的隧道里，他只看见上上下下，各到各处，都是要三个人才能合抱的三百年老的槲树，其间夹杂些比普通的白杨长得还高的枞树，榆树和黑杨，他一问：“这森林是谁家的呢？”那回答是：“田退德尼科夫的。”于是道路出了森林，沿着白杨树丛，新柳树和老柳树，灌木，以及远处的连山前进，过了两条桥，时而走在河的左边，时而又在那右边，当旅人一问：“这牧场和这水地是谁家的呢？”那回答又是：“田退德尼科夫的。”路又引向山上，在高原中展开，经过了禾束，小麦，燕麦和大麦，一面是他曾经经过之处，又忽然远远的全盘出现了，道路愈走愈暗，入了密密的站在绿茵上面的横枝广远的树阴下，一直到了村边；当那饰着雕刻的农家小屋，石造府邸的红屋顶，亲密的迎面而来的时候，当那教堂的金色屋尖向他发闪的时候，他的猛跳的心，就是并不问，也知道自己是在那里了——于是他那愈涨愈高的感情，竟迸出这样的大声的话来道：“至今为止，我不是一个呆子吗？运命是选拔我来做世间的天国的主人，我却自贬了去充下贱的誊录，自去当死文字的奴才。我学得很多，受过严密的教育，通晓物情，有大识见，足够督励自己的下属，改良全体的田地，执行地主的许多义务，是萃管理人，执法官和秩序监督人于一身的！但是我跑掉了，把这职掌托付一个什么没教育，没资格的经理！自己却挑选了法院书记的职务，给漠不相识，也毫不知道那资质和性格的别人的讼事去着忙。我怎么能只去办那些单会弄出一大堆胡涂事的，离我怕有一千维尔斯他之远，而我也没有到过的外省的纸片上的空想的公事——来代我自己的田地的现实的公事呢？”

然而其时在等候他的还有一场别样的戏剧。农奴们一听到主人的归来，就都聚在府邸的大门口了。这些美丽人种的斑斓的围巾，带子，头巾，小衫和茂盛的如画的大胡子，挤满了他的周围。当百来个喉咙大叫道：“小爹！你竟也记得了我们了！”而年老的人们，还认识他的祖父和曾祖父的，不由的流出泪来的时候，他也禁不住自己的感动。他只好暗暗的追问：“有这样爱！我给他们办了些什么呀？我还没有见过他们，还没有给他们出过力哩！”于是他就立誓，从今以后，要和他们分任一切工作和勤劳了。

于是田退德尼科夫就很认真的来管理和经营他的田产。他削减地租，减少服役，给农奴们有为自己做事的较多的时间。胡涂经理赶走了，自己来独当一切。他亲自去到田野，去到谷仓，去到打禾场，去到磨场和河埠；也去看装货和三桅船的发送，这就已经使懒家伙窘得爬耳搔腮。然而这继续得并不久。农人是并不愚蠢的，他立刻觉得，主人实在是敏捷，聪明，而且喜欢做出能干的事情来，但还不大明白这应该怎样下手；而他的说话，也太复杂，太有教养。到底就弄成这模样，主人和农奴——这是说过一说的了：彼此全不了解，然而并不互相协同，学走一致的步调。

田退德尼科夫立刻觉察到，主人的田地上，什么都远不及农奴的田地上的收成好；种子撒得早，可是出得迟；不过也不能说人们做得坏。主人是总归亲自站在那里的，如果农奴们特别出力，还给他一杯烧酒喝。但是虽然如此，农奴那边的裸麦早已长足，燕麦成熟了，黍子长得很兴旺，他的却不过种子发了一点芽，穗子也没有饱满。一言以蔽之，主人觉得了他对于农奴，虽然全都平等，宽仁，但农奴对于他，却简直是欺骗。他试去责备那农奴，然而得到的是这样的答话：“您怎么能这样想，好老爷，说我们没有替主人的利益着想呢？您亲自看见的，我们怎样使劲的锄地呀下种——您还给我们一杯烧酒哩。”对于这，他还能回答些什么呢？

“那么，谷子怎会长得这么坏的呢？”主人问了下去。

“天知道！一定有虫子在下面咬罢！况且是这么坏的一夏天：连一点雨也没有。”

但主人知道，谷物的虫子是袒护农奴的，而且雨也下得很小心，就是所谓条纹式，只把好处去给农奴，主人的田地上却一滴也没有。

更艰难的是他的对付女人们。她们总在恳求工作的自由，和诉说服役的负担之苦。奇怪得很！他把她们的麻布，果实，香菌，胡桃那些的贡献品，统统废止了，还免掉了她们所有别样工作的一半，因为他以为女人们就会用了这闲空的时间，去料理家务，给自己的男人照顾衣服，开辟自家的菜园。怎样的一个错误呵！在这些美人儿之间，倒盛行了懒散，吵嘴，饶舌，以及各种争闹之类的事情，至于使男人们时时刻刻跑到主人这里来，恳求他道：“好老爷，请您叫那一个妈的娘儿清楚些！这真是恶鬼。和她是谁也过活不了的！”

他屡次克服了自己，要用严厉来做逃路。然而他怎么能做得出来呢！如果是一个女人，女人式的呼号起来，他怎么能够严厉呢？况且她又见得这么有病，可怜，穿着非常龌龊的，讨厌的破布片！（她从那里弄来的呢——那只有天晓得！）“去罢，离开我的眼前，给我用不着看见你！”可怜的田退德尼科夫大声说，立刻也就赏鉴了这女人刚出门口，就为了一个芜菁和邻女争闹起来，虽然生着病，却极有劲道的在脊梁上狠狠的给了一下，虽是壮健的农夫，也不能打的这么出色的。

很有一些时候，他要给他们办一个学校，然而这却吃了大苦，弄得非常消沉，垂头丧气，后悔他要来开办了。

他一去做调停人和和事佬，也即刻觉到了他那哲学教授传授给他的法律上的机微，简直没有什么用。这一边说假话，那一边谎也撒的并不少，归根结蒂，事件也只有魔鬼才了然。他知道了平常的世故，价值远胜于一切法律的机微和哲学的书籍；——他觉察了自己还有所欠缺，但缺的是什么呢，却只有上帝知道。而且发生了常常发生的事情：就是主人不明白农奴，农夫也不明白主人；而两方面，无论主人或农奴，都把错处推到别人身上去。这很冷却了地主的热中。现在他出去监督工作的时候，几乎完全缺少了先前那样的注意了。当收割牧草之际，他不再留心镰刀的微音，不去看干草怎样的堆积，怎样的装载，也不注意周围割草工作的进行。——他的眼睛只看着远方；一看见工作正在那边，那眼睛就在四近去找一种什么对象，或者看看旁边的河流的曲折，那地方有一个红腿红嘴的家伙，正在来回的散步——我说的自然是一只鸟，不是人；他新奇的凝视着翠鸟怎样在河边捕了一条鱼，衔在嘴里许多工夫，好像在沉思是否应该吞下去，再细心的沿河一望，就看见远地里另有一匹同类的鸟，还没有捉到鱼的，却在紧张的看着衔鱼的翠鸟。或者是闭了眼睛，仰起头，向着蔚蓝的天空，他的鼻子嗅着旷野的气息，耳朵是听着有翼的，愉快的歌人的歌吟，这从天上，从地下，集成一个神奇的合唱，没有噪音来搅乱那美丽的和谐：鹌鹑在裸麦中鼓翼，秧鸡在野草里钩辀，红雀四处飞鸣，一匹水鹬冲上空中，嘎的一声叫，云雀歌啭着，消在蔚蓝的天空中，而鹤唳就像鼓声，高高的在天上布成三角形的阵势。上下四方，无不作响，有声，而每一音响，都神奇的互相呼应……唉唉，上帝呵！你的世界，即使在荒僻的土地，在远离通都大邑的最小的村庄，也还是多么壮美呵！但到后来，虽是这些也使他厌倦了。他不久就完全不到野外去，从此只躲在屋子里，连跑来报告事情的经理人，也简直不想接见了。

早先还时时有一个邻居到他这里来谈天；什么退伍的骠骑兵中尉呀，是一位容易生气的吸烟家，浑身熏透着烟气，或者一位急进的大学生，大学并没有卒业，他的智慧是从各种应时的小本子和日报上采来的。但这也使他厌倦起来了。这些人们的谈话，立刻使他觉得很浅薄；他们那欧式恳切的，伶俐的举动，来敲一下他的膝盖那样的随便，他们的趋奉和亲昵，他看起来都以为太不雅，太显然。于是他决计和他们断绝往来，还用了很粗卤的方法。当一位大佐而且是快乐主义者一类货色的代表，现在是已经亡故了的专会浮谈的周到的交际家，和我们这里刚刚起来的新思想的先驱者瓦尔瓦尔·尼古拉耶维支·威锡涅坡克罗摩夫两个，同来访他，要和他畅谈政治，哲学，文学，道德，还有英国的经济情形的时候，他派了一个当差的去，嘱咐他说，主人不在家，而自己却立刻轻率的在窗口露了脸。主人和客人的眼光相遇了。一个自然是低声说：“这畜生！”别一个在齿缝里，也一样的送了他一个近乎畜生之类。他们的交情就从此完结。以后也不再有人来访他了。

他倒很喜欢，就潜心思索着他那关于俄国的大著作。怎样做法的呢——那是读者已经知道的了。他的家里传染了一种奇特的——随随便便的规矩。虽然人也不能说，他竟并无暂时梦醒的工夫。如果邮差把新的日报和杂志送到家里来，他读着碰到一个旧同学的姓名，或者出仕升到荣显的地位，或者对于科学的进步和全人类的事业有了供献，他的心就隐隐的发生一种幽微的酸辛，对于自己的无为的生活，起了轻柔的，沉默的，然而是严峻的不满。觉得他全部的存在，都恶心，讨厌了。久经过去的他的学校时代的光景，历历如在目前，亚历山大·彼得洛维支的形象，突然活泼的在面前出现，他的眼泪就泉涌起来……

这眼泪是表示什么的呢？恐怕是大受震撼的魂灵，借此来发抒他那烦恼的苦楚的秘密，他胸中蕴蓄着伟大高贵的人物，正想使他发达强壮起来，却中途受了窒碍的苦痛的罢？还没有试和运命的嫉妒相搏斗，他还未达到这样的成熟，学得使自己很高强，能冲决遮拦和妨碍；伟大而高华的感情的宝藏，未经最后的锻炼，就烧红的金属似的化掉了；对于他，那出色的教师真是死得太早，现在是全世界已没有一个人，具备才能，来振作这因怯弱而不绝的动摇，为反对所劫夺的无力的意志——用一句泼剌的话来使他奋起——一声泼剌的“前去”来号令精神了，这号令，是凡有俄国人，无论贵贱，不问等级，职业和地位，谁都非常渴望的。

能向我们俄国的魂灵，用了自己的高贵的国语，来号令这全能的言语“前去”的人在那里呢？谁通晓我们本质中的一切力量和才能，所有的深度，能用神通的一眼，就带我们到最高的生活去呢？俄国人会用了怎样的泪，怎样的爱来酬谢他呵！然而一世纪一世纪的驶去了，我们的男女沉沦在不成材的青年的无耻的怠惰和昏愚的举动里，上帝没有肯给我们会说这句全能的言语的人！

然而有一件事几乎使田退德尼科夫觉醒过来，在他的性格上发生一个彻底的转变。这是恋爱故事一类的，但也继续得并不久。在田退德尼科夫的邻村，离他的田地十维尔斯他之远，住着一个将军，这人，我们早经知道，批评田退德尼科夫是并不很好的。这位将军的过活，可真是一位将军，这就是说，恰像一位大人物，大开府第，喜欢前来拜访，向他致敬的邻人；他自己呢，自然是不去回拜的，一口粗嘎的声音，看着许多书，还有一个女儿，是稀奇的，异乎寻常的存在。她非常活泼有生气，好像她就是生活似的。

她的名字是乌理尼加，受过特别的教育。指授她的是一个一句俄国话也不懂的英国家庭教师。她的母亲很早就死掉了，父亲又没有常常照管她的余暇。但发疯似的爱着女儿，至于见得一味拼命的趋奉。她什么都惟我独尊，恰如一个放纵长大的孩子一样。倘使有谁见过她怎样忽然发怒，美丽的额上蹙起严峻的皱纹，怎样懊恼的和她的父亲争论，那是一定要以为她是世界上最任性的创造物的。但她的愤怒，只在听到了一件别人所遭遇的惨事或不平。她决不为了自己来发怒或纷争，也不为自己来辩解。一看见她所恼怒的人陷入不幸的困苦，她的气恼也就立刻消失了！有人来求她布施，她当即抛出整个的钱袋去，却并不仔细的想一想，这是对的呢还是不对的。她有些莽撞，急躁。说起话来，好像什么都在跟着思想飞跑：她那脸上的表情，她的言语，她的举动，她的一双手；连她的衣服的襞褶也仿佛在向前飘动，人几乎要想，她自己也和她的言语一同飞去了。她毫不隐瞒，对谁也不怕说出自己的秘密的思想，如果要说话，世界上就没有力量能够沉默她。她那惊人的步法，是一种惟她独具的，非常自由而稳重的步法，谁一相遇，就会不由自主的退到一旁，给她让出道路来。和她当面，坏人就总有些惶恐，沉默了。连最不怕羞的人也说不出话，失了所有的把握和从容，而老实人却立刻极其坦然的和她谈起闲天来，仿佛遇到了世间未见的人物，听过一句话，就好像他在什么地方，什么时候，曾经认识她，而且已在什么地方见过这一个相貌：是在他仅能依稀记得的童年，在自己的父亲的家里，在快乐的夜晚，在一群孩子高兴的玩着闹着的当时——从此以后许多时，壮龄的严肃和成就，就使他觉得凄凉了。

田退德尼科夫和她的关系，是也和一切别的人们完全一样的。一种新的，不可以言语形容的感情激励了他，一道明亮的光辉，照耀了他那单调的，凄凉的生活。

将军当初是很亲爱和诚恳的接待了田退德尼科夫的，但两人之间，竟不能弄到实在的融洽。每一见面，临了总是争论，彼此都怀着不舒服的感情；因为将军是不受反对和辩驳的。而田退德尼科夫这一面，可也是有些易于感动的年青人。他自然也为了他的女儿，常常对父亲让步，因此久没有搅乱彼此之间的平和，直到一个很好的日子，有将军的两位亲戚，一位是伯爵夫人皤尔提来瓦，一位是公爵夫人尤泻吉娜，前来访问的时候：这两位都曾经做过老女皇的宫中女官，但和彼得堡的大有势力的人物，也还有一点密切的关系的；将军就竭力活泼的向她们去凑奉。田退德尼科夫觉得她们一到，对他就很冷淡，不大注意，把他当哑子看待了。将军向他常用居高临下的口气；称他为“我的好人”或是“最敬爱的”，而有一回竟对他称了“你”。田退德尼科夫气恼起来了。他咬着牙齿，然而还知道用非常的自制力，保持着镇静，当怒不可遏，脸上飞红的时候，也用了很和气，很谦虚的声音回答道：“对于您的出格的好意，我是万分感谢的，军门大人。您用这亲昵的‘你’对我表示着密切的交情，我就对您也有了一样的称‘你’的义务。然而年纪的悬隔，却使我们之间，完全不能打这样亲戚似的交道呵！”将军狼狈了。他搜寻着自己的意思和适当的说法；终于声明了这“你”用的并不是这一种意思，老年人对于一个年青人，大约是可以称之为“你”的。关于他的将军的品级，却一句话也不说。

当然，两面的交际，自从这一事件以后，就彼此断绝了，他的爱情，也一发芽就凋落。暂时在他面前一闪的光明，黯然消灭，现在降临的昏暮，比先前更暗淡，更昏沉。他的生活又回上旧路，成了读者已经知道的那老样子了。他又整天无为的躺着。家里满是龌龊和杂乱。扫帚在屋子的中央，终日混在一堆尘埃里。裤子竟会在客厅里到处游牧，安乐椅前面的华美的桌子上，放着几条垢腻的裤带，像是对于来宾的赠品似的。田退德尼科夫的全部生活，就这样的无聊，昏沉起来，不但他的仆役不再敬畏，连鸡也肆无忌惮的来啄他了。他会许多工夫，拿着笔，坐在那里，在摊在面前的一张纸上画着各种图：饼干，房屋，小屋，小车，三驾马车等。有时还会忘掉了一切，笔在纸上简直自动起来，在主人的无意中，形成一个娇小的头脸，是优秀动人的相貌，流利探索的眼光和一个微微蜷曲的髻子——于是画家就惊疑的凝视，这是那人的略画，那肖像是没有一个美术家能够摹绘的。他心里就越加伤痛起来；他不愿意再相信这世界上会有幸福，因此也比先前更其悲哀，更少说话了。这样的是安特来·伊凡诺维支·田退德尼科夫的心情。有一天当他照例的坐在窗前，望着前园时，忽然惊疑不定，是觉得既不见格力戈黎，也不见贝菲利耶夫娜，下面却只是一种不安和扰动了。

青年的厨子和管家女都跑出去开大门；门一开，就看见三匹马，和刻在凯旋门上的完全一样的。一匹的头在左，一匹在右，一匹是在中间。这上面高高的君临着一个马夫和一个家丁，宽大的衣服，头上包一块手帕。两人之后坐着一位外套和皮帽的绅士，满满的围着红色的围巾。当马车停在门口的阶前时，就显出这原来是一辆有弹簧的轻巧的车子。那一表非凡的绅士，就以仿佛军人似的敏捷和熟练，跳出车子，匆匆的跑上阶沿来了。

安特来·伊凡诺维支着了急。他以为来客是一位政府的官员。到这里我应该补叙一下，他在年青时候，是受过一件傻事情的连累的。有一对读过一大批时下小本子的哲学化的骠骑兵官，一位进了大学，却未卒业的美学家，和一个败落的赌客要设立一个慈善会，会长是一个秘密共济会员，也爱打牌的老骗子，然而口才极好的绅士。这会藏着一种非常高尚的目的：就是要使从泰姆士河边到亢卡德加的全人类永远得到幸福。但这须有莫大的现钱，从大度的会员们募集的捐款，是闻所未闻的大。这钱跑到那里去了呢，除了掌握指导之权的会长以外，自然谁也不知道。田退德尼科夫是由两个朋友拉进这会里去的；那两个都是属于满肚牢骚类的人，天性是善良的，为了科学为了教化，以及为了给人类服务的他们的未来的壮举，喝了许许多干杯，于是就成为正式的酒鬼了。田退德尼科夫觉察的还早，退了会。但这会却已经玩了一个上等人不很相宜的另外的花样，招出不愉快的结果来，竟闹到警察局去了……田退德尼科夫退会之后，就和这些人断绝了一切的交涉，但还不能觉得很放心，也是毫不足怪的：他的良心并不完全清净。所以他现在瞥见大门一开放，就不能不吃惊。

但当来客几乎出人意外的老练地一鞠躬，一面微微的侧着头，作为致敬的表示的时候，他的焦急立刻消散了。那人简短地，然而清楚地声明，他从很久的以前起，就一半为了事务，一半为了嗜奇，在俄国旅行：即使不计那些有余的产业和多种的土壤，我们的国度里也很富于显著的东西；他是给这田地的出色的位置耸动了，但倘若他的马车没有因为这春天的泛滥和难走的道路忽然出了毛病，他是决不敢到这美丽之处来惊动主人的；就为了想借铁匠的高手给修理一下。然而即使马车全没有出什么事，他也还是禁不住要趋前来请安的。

那客人一说完话，就又可爱到迷人的一鞠躬，露出他那珠扣的华美的磁漆长靴来，而且他的身子虽然肥胖，却以橡皮球的弹性，向后跳退了几步。

安特来·伊凡诺维支早已放心了；他认为这人该是一个好奇的学者或是教授，旅行俄国，在采集植物或者也许倒是稀奇的化石的。他立刻声明了对于一切事情，自己都愿意协助，请他用自己的车匠和铁匠来修理马车，请他像在他自己的家里一样，在这里休息，请他坐在一把宽大的服尔德式安乐椅子(3)上，要倾听他那博学的，关于自然科学的物事的谈话了。

然而那客人所讲的却多是内心生活的事情。他把自己的生涯，比作一只小船，在大海里，被怕人的风暴所吹送；说，他怎样的屡次变换了职业，他多少次为真理受苦，以及他怎样的屡次被敌人所暗算，生命几濒于危险，此外还有许多别的事，于是田退德尼科夫看出来了，他的客人乃是一个实际家。收场是他把一块雪白的麻纺手巾按在鼻子上，大声的擤了一下鼻涕，响到安特来·伊凡诺维支从来没有听到过。在交响乐里，是往往会遇到这种讨厌的喇叭的；如果只有这一声，却令人觉得并不在交响乐里，倒是自己的耳朵在发响。在久经沉睡的府邸中的突然惊醒的许多屋子里，立刻轰传了一样的声音，而立刻也在空气中充满了可伦香水的芳烈的气息，这是由麻纺手帕的轻轻一挥，隐隐约约的散在屋里的。

读者恐怕已经猜到，这客人并非别个，即是我们那可敬的，长久没有顾到了的保甫尔·伊凡诺维支·乞乞科夫。他老了一点了：可见他的过活，也并非没有狂风骇浪。就是他穿着的常礼服，也显得有些穿熟的样子；连那马夫和篷车，家丁，马匠和马具，看去都好像有一点减损和消耗了。他的经济景况似乎也并不很出色。但那脸面的表情，行为的优雅，恰依然全如先前一样。是的，他的应酬，倒比以前更可爱了一些，坐在安乐椅子上的时候，也还是架起了一条腿。谈吐近乎更加柔软，言语之间，也仿佛愈在留心和节制，态度是更聪明，更稳重，在一切举动上，几乎更加能干了。他的衣领和胸衣是雪似的又白又亮，虽然在旅行，外衣上却不沾一粒灰尘：他可以立刻去赴庆祝生日的筵宴。下巴和面颊都刮得极光，只有瞎子，才会不惊叹他那饱满和圆滑的。

府邸里立刻起了很大的变化：因为关着外层门，久已躲在昏暗中的一半，突然照得光明耀眼了。在很亮的屋子里，摆起家具来，一切就马上显得这模样：作为卧室的屋子，陈列着各种夜晚化妆应用的东西，做书房的一间……等一等罢，我们先应该知道这屋子里摆着三张的桌子：一张是沙发前面的书桌，一张是镜子和窗门之间的打牌桌，还有一张是屋角上的三角桌，正在卧室的门和通到堆积破烂家具，不住人的大厅的门的中间。这大厅，向来是充作前厅之用的，已经整年的没有人进去过。在这三角桌子上，那旅客从衣箱里发出来的衣裳就找到了它的位置，便是：两条配着那件常礼服用的裤子，两条簇新的裤子，两条灰色的裤子，两件绒背心，两件绸背心和一件常礼服。这些都积叠了起来，像一座金字塔，上面盖一块绢手帕。在房门和窗门之间的别一个屋角上呢，排着一大批长靴：一双不很新的，一双完全新的，一双磁漆鞋和一双睡鞋。这些上面也怕羞似的盖着一块绢帕——简直好像并无其物的一样。书桌上也立刻整整齐齐的摆出这些东西来：小匣子，一个装有可伦香水的瓶儿，一个日历和两种小说，但两种都只有第二本。干净的小衫裤，是放在卧室里的衣橱里面了；要给洗衣女人去洗的那些，就捆成一团，塞在床底下。连那衣箱，到得发空之后，也塞进床底下去了。为了吓跑强盗和偷儿，一路带着的长刀，也拿进卧室去，挂在靠近眠床的一个钉头上。什么都见得了不得的干净，异乎寻常的整齐了。那里都找不出一片纸，一根毛或者一粒尘埃了。连空气也显得美好起来：其中散布着一个小衫裤常常替换，礼拜天一定要去用湿海绵洗澡的鲜活而健康的男子汉的令人舒服的气味。在充作前厅之用的大厅里，一时也粘住了家丁彼得尔希加的气息，但彼得尔希加又即搬家，这正和他相称，弄到厨房里去了。

在第一天，安特来·伊凡诺维支很有些为自己的无拘无束担心；他怕这客人会烦扰他，带累他的生活有不惬意的变化，扰乱他自己幸而立定了的日课，但他的担心是毫无根据的。我们的朋友保甫尔·伊凡诺维支却显示了适应一切的简直非凡的弹性和才能。他称扬主人的哲学气味的悠闲，并且说明这可以使人长寿。关于他的孤独生活，是赞成的说，这对于人，乃是养成伟大思想的。也看了一看图书室，把书籍赞美非常，还指出这可以防人的误入歧路。他话说的很少，但凡有所说，却无不真切，而且分明。一切举动，尤其证明着可爱和伶俐。进退都适得其时，不把质问和愿望来麻烦主人，如果是这边沉默着，不爱谈天的话；也很满足的来下一盘棋，也很满足的不开口，当主人把烟草的烟云喷向空中时，他不吸烟，就来找一件相称的事情：举个例子，就如他从袋子里摸出土拉银的烟盒来，钳在右手的两个指头的中间，再用左手的一个指头拨得它飞快的旋转起来，简直好像地球的转着自己的轴子，或者用手指咚咚的敲着盖子，再加口哨吹出谐和的声调。一句话，他一点也不妨碍他的主人。“在一生中，这才看见了一个可以一同过活的人！”田退德尼科夫对自己说。“这种本领，在我们这里实在是很少有的。我们里面有许多人：聪明，有教养，也确是好人，然而永远稳妥的人，可以同住一世纪，并不争闹的人——这样的人我却不知道。这一种人，我们这里到底有多少呢？这是我所认识的这类人的第一个。”田退德尼科夫这样的判断着他的客人。

乞乞科夫那一面也很高兴，因为他能够在一个这么温和而恳切的主人家里，寄住若干的时光。流浪人的生活，他实在尝饱了。能够好好的住下一个月，欣赏着出色的村庄的风景，田野的气味和开始的春光，就是为痔疮起见，也有大用处和利益的。

轻易就找不出给他休息的更好的地方来。春天战胜了压迫的严寒，骤然展开那全部的华美，幼小的生命到处抽芽了。树林和牧场都闪出淡绿，嫩草的新鲜的碧玉里，明晃晃的抽着蒲公英的黄花，还有红紫的白头翁花，也温顺的垂着纤柔的颈子。成群的蚊虻和许多昆虫，都在沼泽上出现，跟着的是长脚的水黾，于是禽鸟也从各方面来躲在干枯的，可以遮蔽的芦苇里。一切都潮涌似的聚集在这地方，彼此互相见面，互相亲近了。地上忽然增添了丁口。树林觉醒起来，牧场上是活泼而且响动。村子里跳着圆舞。还有多少地方是闲空的呢。怎样的明朗的新绿！空气是多么的清新！园里是多少禽鸟的歌吟！万有的天上似的欢呼和高兴！村庄在发声，在歌唱，好像结婚的大宴了。

乞乞科夫时常去散步。出去游行和漫步的机会是多得很的。他直上平坦的高原，可眺望横在下面的溪谷，到处还有啮岸的洪水所留下的大湖，其中耸着幽暗的，尚未生叶的树林的岛屿；或者是穿过暗林的密处和阴地的中间，树木戴着鸟巢，接近的屹立着，乌鸦叫着乱飞起来，好像一片云遮暗了天宇。从燥地上可以一径走到埠头，装着豌豆，大麦和小麦的初次的船刚要开行，流水激着慢慢的转动起来，水车轮发出震聋耳朵的声响。或者他去看看方才开始的春耕，观察一块新耕的土地，怎样展在原野的碧绿里，还有播种的人，用手敲着挂在胸前的筛子，匀整的撒出种子去，却没有一粒落在别地方。

乞乞科夫什么地方都走到。他和管家，农夫，磨工样样的议论，谈天。他什么都问到，问那里和怎样，还问怎样的营生，卖掉了多少谷子，春天和秋天磨什么谷子，每个农奴叫什么名字，谁和谁有亲，他从那里买了他的公牛，他用什么喂他的猪子，总而言之，他一点也不漏落。他也问出了死掉多少农奴，知道是好像少得很。因为他是聪明人，立刻明白了安特来·伊凡诺维支的家景并不很出色。他到处发见了怠慢，懒惰，偷盗，还有纵酒也很风行，他自己想：“田退德尼科夫可多么胡涂呀！这样的产业！却一点也不管！从这里赚出总额五万卢布来，是可以把得稳的！”

在散步时，他不止一回，起了这样的思想，自己也在什么时候——当然并非现在，却在将来，如果办妥要务，他手里有了钱的话——自己也在什么时候要做一个像这产业的平和的主人。于是不消说，立刻有一个商家的，或是别的有钱人家的，粉面的年青而娇滴滴的女人的形象，在他眼前出现。唔，他竟还梦想她是性情和音乐相近的哩。他也设想着后代，他的子孙，那责任，是在传乞乞科夫氏于无穷：一个泼剌的男孩和一个漂亮的女孩，或者简直是两个男孩和两个女孩，当然，三个也可以，由此给大家知道知道，他的确生活过，存在过，至少是并不像一个幽灵或者影子似的在地上逛荡了一下——而且他对于祖国，因此也用不着惭愧了。于是就往往起了这一种思想，那也并不坏，如果他有了头衔的话：例如五等官。这总是一个很有名誉，很可尊敬的称号呀！人如果去散步，是什么都会想起来的：非常之多，至于把人从这无聊的，凄凉的现在拉开，挑拨他的幻想力，加以戏弄，使他活动，纵使他明知道做不到，在他自己却还是觉得甜蜜的。

乞乞科夫的仆役也很中意了这地方。他们很快的习惯了新生活。彼得尔希加立刻和侍者格力戈黎结了交，虽然他们俩开初都很矜持，而且非常之装模作样。彼得尔希加想蒙蔽格力戈黎，用自己的游历和世界知识使他肃然起敬，但格力戈黎却马上用了彼得尔希加没有到过的彼得堡制了胜。他还要用那些地方的非常之远来对抗，而格力戈黎可就说出这样的一个地方来，谁都决不能在地图上找到，而且据说还远在三千维尔斯他以上，弄得保甫尔·伊凡诺维支的家丁无法可想，只好张开了嘴巴，遭所有奴婢的哄笑了。但相处却很合式；两个家丁订结了亲密的交情。村边有一个出名的小酒店，是一切农奴的老伯伯，秃头的庇门开设的，店名叫作“亚勒苦以卡”。在这店堂里，每天总可以见到他们。所以用人民爱用的话来说，他们是成了酒店的“老主顾”了。

给绥里方却有另外的乐处。村子里是每晚上都唱歌；村里的年青人聚集起来，用歌唱和跳舞来庆祝新春；跳着圆舞，合围了，又忽然分散。在现在的大村子里是已经很少有了的苗条而血统纯粹的，招人怜爱的姑娘们，给了他一个强有力的印象，至于久立不动，看得入迷。共中谁最漂亮呢，那可很难说！她们都是雪白的胸脯和颈子，又大又圆的含蓄的眼睛，孔雀似的步子，一条辫发，一直拖到腰带边。每当她那洁白的双手拉着他的手，在圆阵中和她们徐徐前进，或者和别的青年们排成一道墙，向她们挤过去的时候，每当姑娘们高声大笑着，向他们迎上来，并且唱着“新郎在那里呢，主人呀？”的时候，每当周围都沉入黑夜中，那谐调的回声，远从河流的后边，忧郁的反响过来的时候，他就几乎忘却了自己。此后许多时：无论是在早上或是黄昏，是在睡着或是醒着——他总觉得好像有一双雪白的手捏在自己的两手里，和她们在圆阵里慢慢的动弹。

乞乞科夫的马匹也觉得在它们的新住宅里好得很。青马，议员，连花马在内，也以为留在田退德尼科夫这里毫不无聊，燕麦是很出色的，而马房的形势，也极其适意。每匹都有各自的位置，用隔板和别的分开，然而又很容易从上面窥探。所以也能够看见别的马，如果从中有一匹，即使是在最末的边上的，高兴嘶起来了，那么，别匹也就可以用同样的方法，来回答它的同僚。

总而言之，在田退德尼科夫这里，谁都马上觉得像在自己的家里了。但一涉及保甫尔·伊凡诺维支因此游行着广大的俄国的事务，就是死魂灵，关于这一点，他却纵使和十足的呆子做对手，也格外谨慎和干练了。然而田退德尼科夫总是在看书，在思索，要查明一切现象的原因和底蕴——它们的为着什么和什么缘故……“不，我从别一面下手，也许要好一些罢！”乞乞科夫这样想。他时常和婢仆去谈闲天，于是他有一回，知道了主人先前常常到一家邻居——一位将军——那里去做客，知道了那将军有一个女儿，知道了主人对于那小姐——而小姐对于主人也有一点……知道了但他们忽然断绝，从此永远不相来往了。而他自己也早经觉到，安特来·伊凡诺维支总在用铅笔或毛笔画着种种头，但是全都见得非常相像的。

有一天，午餐之后，他又照例的用了第二个指头，使银烟盒依轴而转的时候，向着田退德尼科夫道：“凡是心里想要的东西，您什么都有，安特来·伊凡诺维支；只是您还缺一样。”

“那是？”这边问，一面在空中喷出一团的烟云。

“一个终身的伴侣。”乞乞科夫说。安特来·伊凡诺维支没有回答，于是这回的谈话，就此收场了。

乞乞科夫却并不害怕，寻出一个另外的时机来——这回是在晚餐之前——当谈天的中途，突然说：“真的，安特来·伊凡诺维支，您得结婚了！”

然而田退德尼科夫仍旧一句话也不回答，仿佛他不爱这个题目似的。

但是，乞乞科夫不退缩。他第三次选了一个别样的时机，是在晚餐之后说了这些话：“唔，真的，无论从那一方面来看您的生活，我总以为您得结婚了！您还会生忧郁症呢。”

也许是乞乞科夫的话这回说得特别动听，也许是安特来·伊凡诺维支这时特别倾于直率和坦白，他叹息一声，并且说，一面又喷出一口烟：“第一着，是人总该有幸福，总该有运气的，保甫尔·伊凡诺维支。”于是他很详细的对他讲述了自己的遭遇：他和将军的结交以及他们的绝交的全部的故事。

当乞乞科夫一句一句的明白了已经知道的案件，听到那只为一句话儿“你”，却闹出这么大故事来的时候，他简直骇了一跳。暂时之间，他查考似的看着田退德尼科夫的眼睛，决不定他是十足的呆子呢，还不过稍微有一点昏。

“安特来·伊凡诺维支！我请教您！”他终于说，一面捏住了主人的两只手，“这算什么侮辱呢？在‘你’这个字里，您找得出什么侮辱来呢？”

“这字的本身里自然是并不含有侮辱的，”田退德尼科夫回答道，“侮辱是在说出这字来的意思里，表现里。‘你！’——这就是说：‘知道罢，你是一个无足重轻的东西；我和你来往，只因为没有比你好的人；现在是公爵夫人尤泻吉娜在这里了，我请你记一记那里是你本来的地位，站到门口去罢。’就是这意思呀！”说到这里，我们的和气的，温顺的安特来·伊凡诺维支的眼睛就发光；在他的声音里，颤动着出于大受侮辱的感情的愤激。

“唔，如果竟是这一类的意思呢？——那有什么要紧呀？”乞乞科夫说。

“怎么，您要我在这样的举动之后，还去访问他吗？”

“是的，这算得什么举动？这是决不能称为一种举动的。”乞乞科夫极冷静的说。

“怎么会不是‘举动’的？”田退德尼科夫诧异的问道。

“总之这不是举动，安特来·伊凡诺维支。这不过是这位军门大人的这样一种习惯，对谁都这么称呼。况且对于一位这样的给国家出过力，可以尊敬的人物，为什么不宽恕他一下呢？”

“这又是另一件事了，”田退德尼科夫说，“如果他只是一个老先生或者一个穷小子，不这么浮夸，骄傲和锋利，如果他不是将军，那么，就是用‘你’来称呼我，我也很愿意宽恕，而且还要恭恭敬敬的应对的。”

“实实在在，他是一个呆子！”乞乞科夫想。“他肯宽恕一个破烂衣服的家伙，对于一位将军倒不！”在这料想之后，他就大声的说下去道：“好，可以，就是了，算是他侮辱您罢，但是您也回报他：他侮辱您了，您也还了他侮辱。然而人怎么可以为了一点这样的芥蒂，就大家分开，抛掉个人藏在心里的事情呢？我应该先求原谅，这真是……如果您立定了目标，那么，您也应该向这奔过去，有什么要来吗，来就是。谁还留心有人在对人吐唾沫呢？一切的人，都在互相吐唾沫。现在是您在全世界上，也找不出一个人，会不周围乱打，也不对人吐唾沫了。”

田退德尼科夫被这些话吓了一大跳，他完全目瞪口呆的坐着，单是想：“一个太古怪的人，这乞乞科夫！”

“是一个稀奇的家伙，这田退德尼科夫！”乞乞科夫想，于是他放声说下去道：“安特来·伊凡诺维支，请您给我像对兄弟似的来说一说罢。您还毫无经验。您要原谅我去弄明白这件事。我要去拜访大人，向他说明，这件事在您这边是由于您的误会，原因还在您年纪青，您的世界知识和人间知识都很有限。”

“我没有到他面前去爬的意思，”田退德尼科夫不高兴的说，“也不能托付给您的！”

“我也没有爬的本领，”乞乞科夫不高兴的回答道，“我只是一个人。我会犯错误，但是爬呢——断断不来的！请您原谅罢，安特来·伊凡诺维支；您竟有权利，在我的话里垫进这么侮辱的意义去，我可是没有料到的。”

“您宽恕罢，保甫尔·伊凡诺维支，我错了！”田退德尼科夫握着乞乞科夫的两只手，感激的说。“我实在并不想侮辱您。您的好意，在我是极有价值的。我对您起誓。但我们收起这话来，我们不再要来谈这件事罢！”

“那么，我也就平平常常的到将军那里去罢。”乞乞科夫说。

“为什么？”田退德尼科夫问，一面诧异的凝视着乞乞科夫。

“我要去拜访他！”乞乞科夫道。

“这乞乞科夫是一个多么古怪的人呵！”田退德尼科夫想。

“这田退德尼科夫是一个多么古怪的人呵！”乞乞科夫想。

“我明天早上十点钟的样子到他那里去，安特来·伊凡诺维支。我想，去拜访一位这样的人物，表示自己的敬意，还是早一点好。只可惜我的马车还没有整顿，我想请您允许我用一用您的车子。我豫备早晨十点钟就到他那里去的！”

“自然可以。这算得什么！您吩咐就是。您爱用那一辆，就用那一辆，都随您的便！”

在这交谈之后，他们就走散，各归自己的房子，睡觉去了，彼此也并非没有推测着别人的思想的特性。

但是——这岂不奇怪，当第二天马车到门，乞乞科夫身穿新衣服，白背心，结着白领带，以军人似的熟练，一跳而上，驶了出去，拜访将军去了的时候——田退德尼科夫就起了一种好像从未体验过的感动。他那一切生锈和昏睡的思想，都不安起来，活动起来。神经性的激情，忽然用了全力，把这昏沉的，浸在舒服和无为中的迷梦，一扫而空了。

他忽而坐在沙发上，忽而走向窗口去，忽而拿起一本书，忽而又想思索些什么事。失掉的爱的苦恼呵！他找不出思想来。或者他想什么也不想。枉然的辛苦呵！一种思想的无聊的零星，各种思想的尾巴和断片，都闯进脑子里，搅扰着他的头颅。“这情形可真怪！”他说着，坐在窗前，眺望道路去了，道路穿过昏暗的槲树林，林边分明有一阵烟尘，是驶去的马车卷了起来的。但是，我们抛下田退德尼科夫，我们跟定乞乞科夫罢。

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(1) Sodom i Gomorrah是两个古市名，见于《旧约》，大约在近死海南界，后来就用它来喻风俗紊乱的都市了，这里是以比下面的胡闹和嚣喧的。——译者。

(2) 就是菲陀尔的爱称，也是贱称。——译者。

(3) 一种宽而深的椅子：法国的作家服尔德（Voltaire，1694—1778）因病曾用这样的椅子，故名。——译者。