A DULL, rainy day. The sky is completely covered with heavy clouds, and there is no prospect of the rain ceasing. Outside sleet, puddles, and drenched jackdaws. Indoors it is half dark, and so cold that one wants the stove heated. 一個沉悶的雨天，濃云密布，陰雨連綿。雨里夾雜著雪花，留下了遍地的水坑，打濕了樹上的寒鴉。屋里昏昏暗暗，冷得人直起疙瘩。 Pavel Petrovitch Somov is pacing up and down his study, grumbling at the weather. The tears of rain on the windows and the darkness of the room make him depressed. He is insufferably bored and has nothing to do.... The newspapers have not been brought yet; shooting is out of the question, and it is not nearly dinner-time.... 周文茂在書房里來回溜達(dá)，為天氣發(fā)著牢騷，望著窗上的雨、陰沉的家，提不起一點(diǎn)興致。他百無聊賴，巴不得有點(diǎn)事干……今兒的報紙還沒送來，出去打獵也不是時候，這會兒又不到飯點(diǎn)……可干什么好呢？ Somov is not alone in his study. Madame Somov, a pretty little lady in a light blouse and pink stockings, is sitting at his writing table. She is eagerly scribbling a letter. Every time he passes her as he strides up and down, Ivan Petrovitch looks over her shoulder at what she is writing. He sees big sprawling letters, thin and narrow, with all sorts of tails and flourishes. There are numbers of blots, smears, and finger-marks. Madame Somov does not like ruled paper, and every line runs downhill with horrid wriggles as it reaches the margin.... 周太太也在書房。周太太長得嬌小玲瓏，穿著一件淺色襯衫，套著一雙粉色長襪，在桌上興致勃勃地寫信。周先生溜達(dá)來溜達(dá)去，時不時過去瞅上兩眼。紙上寫滿了大大小小、歪歪扭扭、潦潦草草的字跡，還沾上了形形色色的墨漬、油污和指印。周太太用不慣格子紙，每行都歪扭七八地寫成了下坡，都快寫到桌子上了。 “Lidotchka, who is it you are writing such a lot to?” Somov inquires, seeing that his wife is just beginning to scribble the sixth page. 周太太正寫到第六頁，周先生問道：“我說，給誰寫信呢？” “To sister Varya.” “給我妹妹寫呢?！? “Hm... it’s a long letter! I’m so bored — let me read it!” “嚯，真能寫！我瞧瞧唄？閑著也是閑著?！? “Here, you may read it, but there’s nothing interesting in it.” “喏，看吧，也沒寫什么。” Somov takes the written pages and, still pacing up and down, begins reading. Lidotchka leans her elbows on the back of her chair and watches the expression of his face.... After the first page his face lengthens and an expression of something almost like panic comes into it.... At the third page Somov frowns and scratches the back of his head. At the fourth he pauses, looks with a scared face at his wife, and seems to ponder. After thinking a little, he takes up the letter again with a sigh.... His face betrays perplexity and even alarm... 周先生接過信來，邊讀邊來回溜達(dá)。周太太斜倚著椅背，端詳著丈夫的臉色。讀完第一頁，周先生拉長了臉，神情有些異樣……看到第三頁，周先生眉頭緊鎖，撓起了后腦勺。到了第四頁，他放下信紙，錯愕地看了周太太一眼，滿臉的心事。愣了會兒神，他嘆了聲氣又讀上了，可臉上卻帶著些困惑，甚至有幾分驚慌…… “Well, this is beyond anything!” he mutters, as he finishes reading the letter and flings the sheets on the table, “It’s positively incredible!” “不像話！”讀完了信，他把信紙往桌上一拍，咬牙切齒道，“太不像話了！” “What’s the matter?” asks Lidotchka, flustered. “怎么了？”周太太連忙問道。 “What’s the matter! You’ve covered six pages, wasted a good two hours scribbling, and there’s nothing in it at all! If there were one tiny idea! One reads on and on, and one’s brain is as muddled as though one were deciphering the Chinese wriggles on tea chests! Ough!” “還怎么了？你說怎么了？合著你忙活兩個鐘頭就寫了六頁廢話?。∵@不是廢話是什么？我看了半天把我腦袋都看糊涂了！你寫的是人話嗎？啊？” “Yes, that’s true, Vanya, . . .” says Lidotchka, reddening. “I wrote it carelessly. . . .” “哎，文茂……”周太太臉紅道，“我就隨便寫寫嘛……” “Queer sort of carelessness! In a careless letter there is some meaning and style — there is sense in it —while yours... excuse me, but I don’t know what to call it! It’s absolute twaddle! There are words and sentences, but not the slightest sense in them. Your whole letter is exactly like the conversation of two boys: ‘We had pancakes to-day! And we had a soldier come to see us!’ You say the same thing over and over again! You drag it out, repeat yourself.... The wretched ideas dance about like devils: there’s no making out where anything begins, where anything ends.... How can you write like that?” “隨便寫寫？你這不叫隨便寫，你這叫糟踐紙！什么東西！東一句西一句，東一句西一句，翻來覆去，沒頭沒尾的，流水賬都不如。你說你寫的這叫什么？” “If I had been writing carefully,” Lidotchka says in self defence, “then there would not have been mistakes. . . .” “我不就是沒好好寫嘛，真是，”周太太辯解道，“我要好好寫肯定就沒這么多錯了……” “Oh, I’m not talking about mistakes! The awful grammatical howlers! There’s not a line that’s not a personal insult to grammar! No stops nor commas — and the spelling... brrr! ‘Earth’ has an a in it!! And the writing! It’s desperate! I’m not joking, Lida.... I’m surprised and appalled at your letter.... You mustn’t be angry, darling, but, really, I had no idea you were such a duffer at grammar.... And yet you belong to a cultivated, well-educated circle: you are the wife of a University man, and the daughter of a general! Tell me, did you ever go to school?” “你還好意思說！你看你這些錯，?。?biāo)點(diǎn)也不加，行也不會空，字也不會寫……好家伙！土字有幾個橫你不知道嗎！還有你這字！你能不能有個字樣！你呀你呀……我是真沒想到，你怎么這么沒文化……說句不好聽的，你要是懂文法天底下就沒有文盲了……虧你還嫁了個大學(xué)教授，虧你爸還是個當(dāng)干部的，你怎么就這點(diǎn)出息？你上過學(xué)嗎？” “What next! I finished at the Von Mebke’s boarding school. . . .” “哎呀行了！我在慧文上的學(xué)……” Somov shrugs his shoulders and continues to pace up and down, sighing. Lidotchka, conscious of her ignorance and ashamed of it, sighs too and casts down her eyes.... Ten minutes pass in silence. 周先生搖搖頭，又溜達(dá)上了，長吁短嘆的。周太太也害臊了，耷拉著腦袋，止不住地嘆氣……十分鐘過去，倆人愣是一句話都沒說。 “You know, Lidotchka, it really is awful!” says Somov, suddenly halting in front of her and looking into her face with horror. “You are a mother... do you understand? A mother! How can you teach your children if you know nothing yourself? You have a good brain, but what’s the use of it if you have never mastered the very rudiments of knowledge? There — never mind about knowledge... the children will get that at school, but, you know, you are very shaky on the moral side too! You sometimes use such language that it makes my ears tingle!” “你像話嗎！”周先生突然站到太太面前，心慌意亂地看著她，語重心長道，“都是當(dāng)媽的人了，還這么一問三不知的，像個當(dāng)媽的樣嗎？你這樣怎么教育孩子？你腦筋再好使，啥都不懂也不行??！得，學(xué)習(xí)你教不了就教不了吧，反正還有老師，可禮貌廉恥你總得懂吧！你有時候說的那些話我都沒法聽！” Somov shrugs his shoulders again, wraps himself in the folds of his dressing-gown and continues his pacing.... He feels vexed and injured, and at the same time sorry for Lidotchka, who does not protest, but merely blinks.... Both feel oppressed and miserable.... Absorbed in their woes, they do not notice how time is passing and the dinner hour is approaching. 周先生又搖了搖頭，把睡袍一裹，還是溜達(dá)。他又難過，又上火，可又心疼他那逆來順受、委屈巴巴的太太。夫妻倆一個比一個委屈，一個比一個難過，難過來難過去，轉(zhuǎn)眼就快吃飯了。 Sitting down to dinner, Somov, who is fond of good eating and of eating in peace, drinks a large glass of vodka and begins talking about something else. Lidotchka listens and assents, but suddenly over the soup her eyes fill with tears and she begins whimpering. 離了書桌，上了飯桌。周先生嘴饞得很，生怕為鬧別扭壞了胃口，便喝了杯酒，聊起別的事來。周太太心不在焉地搭著茬，忽然間眼眶一濕，淚如雨下。 “It’s all mother’s fault!” she says, wiping away her tears with her dinner napkin. “Everyone advised her to send me to the high school, and from the high school I should have been sure to go on to the University!” “都怪我媽！”周太太用餐巾抹著眼淚，埋怨道，“人家都叫她送我上高中，上完高中再念大學(xué)的！” “University... high school,” mutters Somov. “That’s running to extremes, my girl! What’s the good of being a blue stocking! A blue stocking is the very deuce! Neither man nor woman, but just something midway: neither one thing nor another. . . I hate blue stockings! I would never have married a learned woman...” “還上高中……念大學(xué)。”周先生嘀咕道，“我說你是要上天哪！你也想當(dāng)什么女學(xué)究不成？我告訴你！女學(xué)究沒一個好東西！不男不女的……我最膩味這路人！我就是死也不娶有文化的媳婦……” “There’s no making you out . . .,” says Lidotchka. “You are angry because I am not learned, and at the same time you hate learned women; you are annoyed because I have no ideas in my letter, and yet you yourself are opposed to my studying. . . .” “你看你……”周太太說道，“我沒文化你生氣，有文化你也生氣。我不會寫信你訓(xùn)我，我想學(xué)學(xué)你又不讓……” “You do catch me up at a word, my dear,” yawns Somov, pouring out a second glass of vodka in his boredom. “你還真說著了?！敝芟壬蛄藗€哈欠，又倒了杯酒。 Under the influence of vodka and a good dinner, Somov grows more good-humoured, lively, and soft.... He watches his pretty wife making the salad with an anxious face and a rush of affection for her, of indulgence and forgiveness comes over him. 吃著飯，喝著酒，周先生的酒勁上來了，好脾氣也上來了……看著自己如花似玉的妻子在廚房忙上忙下，一股憐愛之情油然而發(fā)。 “It was stupid of me to depress her, poor girl... ,” he thought. “Why did I say such a lot of dreadful things? She is silly, that’s true, uncivilized and narrow; but... there are two sides to the question, and audiatur et altera pars.... Perhaps people are perfectly right when they say that woman’s shallowness rests on her very vocation. Granted that it is her vocation to love her husband, to bear children, and to mix salad, what the devil does she want with learning? No, indeed!” “我也是，干嘛那么說她……”他反省道，“她是傻了點(diǎn)，但什么事總不能只看一面吧……不是都說嗎，女的呀，天生就傻，要不怎么能心甘情愿地忙里忙外，相夫教子呢？還讓她念書？念個屁書！” At that point he remembers that learned women are usually tedious, that they are exacting, strict, and unyielding; and, on the other hand, how easy it is to get on with silly Lidotchka, who never pokes her nose into anything, does not understand so much, and never obtrudes her criticism. There is peace and comfort with Lidotchka, and no risk of being interfered with. 周先生心想，那些念過書的女人無不是沒勁透頂、斤斤計較、不依不饒、招惹不起的主，哪有自己太太這么好對付。她既不多管閑事，也不胡思亂想，更從來不指手畫腳。跟她過日子舒坦極了，順心順意的。 “Confound them, those clever and learned women! It’s better and easier to live with simple ones,” he thinks, as he takes a plate of chicken from Lidotchka. “去她的吧！還是我的傻太太好?！敝芟壬鷱奶掷锝舆^一盤燒雞，暗暗道。 He recollects that a civilized man sometimes feels a desire to talk and share his thoughts with a clever and well-educated woman. “What of it?” thinks Somov. “If I want to talk of intellectual subjects, I’ll go to Natalya Andreyevna... or to Marya Frantsovna.... It’s very simple! But no, I shan’t go. One can discuss intellectual subjects with men,” he finally decides. 可轉(zhuǎn)念一想，自己這樣博學(xué)多才的男人其實(shí)也挺想和知書達(dá)禮的女人談?wù)勑牡?。“哎，何必呢？”他想道，“想聊點(diǎn)深的找?guī)讉€女教授不就結(jié)了，多大點(diǎn)事！”但又一琢磨，“嗐，拉倒吧，深刻的事跟男的說說就得了?！?