I第一章

On the 10th of August, 1862, at four o'clock in the afternoon, a great number of people were thronging before the well—known konversation in Baden—Baden.

1862年8月10日，下午四点，巴登—巴登著名的 “晤谈厅” 前，聚集了许多人。

The weather was lovely; everything around—the green trees, the bright houses of the gay city, and the undulating outline of the mountains—everything was in holiday mood, basking in the rays of the kindly sun shine; everything seemed smiling with a sort of blind, confiding delight; and the same glad, vague smile strayed over the human faces, too, old and young, ugly and beautiful alike. Even the blackened and whitened visages of the Parisian demi—monde could not destroy the general impression of bright content and elation, while their many—colored ribbons and feathers and the sparks of gold and steel on their hats and veils involuntarily recalled the intensified brilliance and light fluttering of birds in spring, with their rainbow—tinted wings. But the dry, guttural snapping of the French jargon, heard on all sides could not equal the song of birds, nor be compared with it.

这一天，天朗气清，四周的一切——葱翠的树木、这座欢乐的城市中一幢幢明亮的房舍和高低起伏的群山——全都沐浴在慷慨的阳光中，洋溢着节日的气氛。万物似乎都带着隐约的、信任的微笑。同时，无论是老人还是年轻人，丑陋的还是漂亮的，都流露出同样愉悦和朦胧的微笑。即便是那些浓妆艳裹的巴黎女郎，也无法破坏这明亮而又欢乐的总体印象。镶嵌在她们帽子和面纱上的五颜六色的缎带、羽毛及熠熠闪光的金银饰品，使人不由自主地想起春天里小鸟轻轻扇动的分外炫目的七彩羽翼。可是那随处可以听到的乏味而带明显喉音的法语行话无法取代鸟儿的鸣叫，更别谈与之媲美了。

Everything, however, was going on in its accustomed way. The orchestra in the Pavilion played first a medley from the Traviata, then one of Strauss's waltzes, then "Tell her, " a Russian song, adapted for instruments by an obliging conductor. In the gambling saloons, round the green tables, crowded the same familiar figures, with the same dull, greedy, half—stupefied, half—exasperated, wholly rapacious expression, which the gambling fever lends to all, even the most aristocratic, features. The same well—fed and ultra—fashionably dressed Russian landowner from Tambov with wide staring eyes leaned over the table, and with uncomprehending haste, heedless of the cold smiles of the croupiers themselves, at the very instant of the cry "rien ne va plus, " laid with perspiring hand golden rings of louis d 'or on all the four corners of the roulette, depriving himself by so doing of every possibility of gaining anything, even in case of success. This did not in the least prevent him the same evening from affirming the contrary with disinterested indignation to Prince Koko, one of the well—known leaders of the aristocratic opposition, the Prince Koko, who in Paris at the salon of the Princess Mathilde, so happily remarked in the presence of the Emperor: Madame, le principe de la propriete est profondement ebranle en Russie.

然而，一切都在照常进行着。音乐厅里的管弦乐队首先演奏了《茶花女》的并奏曲，接着是一首施特劳斯的华尔兹舞曲，然后是一首俄国歌曲《告诉她》，为听众着想，贴心的指挥将这首歌改编成由乐器演奏。在几间赌博厅里，绿色赌桌周围挤满了我们熟悉的那同一批人，他们脸上还是带着那种呆滞、贪婪、半惊呆半愤怒的表情。对赌博的痴狂使得所有人都是这副贪婪凶残的嘴脸，即使最具贵族气质的人也不例外。那位体型肥胖、衣着过度时髦的来自坦波夫的俄国地主瞪圆了双眼，趴在赌桌上，不顾赌场总管的冷笑，就在他们喊着 “停止下注！” 的瞬间，以迅雷不及掩耳的速度，伸出满是汗的手，将赌金撒在轮盘的四个角上。这样一来，即便押中了，也根本不可能赢得一分钱。但这丝毫无碍他当晚带着毫无偏私的愤慨之情跟珂珂公爵唱反调。珂珂公爵是贵族反对派的著名领袖之一，曾在巴黎的玛蒂尔德公主的沙龙里，当着皇帝的面高兴地说： “夫人，俄国的私有制已经彻底动摇了。”

At the Russian tree, a l 'arbre Russe, our dear fellow—countrymen and countrywomen were assembled after their wont. They approached haughtily and carelessly in fashionable style, greeted each other with dignity and elegant ease, as befits beings who find themselves at the topmost pinnacle of contemporary culture.

我们亲爱的男同胞和女同胞们仍像往常一样聚集到 “俄国树” 下。他们打交道时傲慢而随意，但举止入时，问候对方时不失高贵优雅，完全符合他们处于当代文化之巅的身份。

But when they had met and sat down together, they were absolutely at a loss for anything to say to one another, and had to be content with a pitiful interchange of inanities, or with the exceedingly indecent and exceedingly insipid old jokes of a hopelessly stale French wit, once a journalist, a chattering buffoon with Jewish shoes on his paltry little legs, and a contemptible little beard on his mean little visage. He retailed to them, a ces princes russes, all the sweet absurdities from the old comic almanacs Charivari and Tintamarre, and they, ces princes russes, burst into grateful laughter, as though forced in spite of themselves to recognize the crushing superiority of foreign wit, and their own hopeless incapacity to invent anything amusing. Yet here were almost all the "fine fleur" of our society, "all the high—life and mirrors of fashion. " Here was Count X., our incomparable dilettante, a profoundly musical nature; who so divinely recites songs on the piano, but cannot, in fact, take two notes correctly without fumbling at random on the keys, and sings in a style something between that of a poor gypsy singer and a Parisian hairdresser. Here was our enchanting Baron Q., a master in every line: literature, administration, oratory, and card—sharping. Here, too, was Prince Y., the friend of religion and the people, who in the blissful epoch when the spirit—trade was a monopoly, had made himself betimes a huge fortune by the sale of vodka adulterated with belladonna; and the brilliant General O.O., who had achieved the subjugation of something, and the pacification of something else, and who is nevertheless still a nonentity, and does not know what to do with himself. And R.R. the amusing fat man, who regards himself as a great invalid and a great wit, though he is, in fact, as strong as a bull, and as dull as a post... This R.R. is almost the only man in our day who has preserved the traditions of the dandies of the forties, of the epoch of the "Hero of our Times, " and the Countess Vorotinsky. He has preserved, too, the special gait with the swing on the heels, and le culte de la pose (it cannot even be put into words in Russian), the unnatural deliberation of movement, the sleepy dignity of expression, the immoyable, offended—looking countenance, and the habit of interrupting other people's remarks with a yawn, gazing at his own finger—nails, laughing through his nose, suddenly shifting his hat from the back of his head on to his eyebrows, etc. Here, too, were people in government circles, diplomats, big—wigs with European names, men of wisdom and intellect, who imagine that the Golden Bull was an edict of the Pope, and that the English poor—tax is a tax levied on the poor. And here, too, were the hot—blooded, though tongue—tied, devotees of the dames aux camellias, young society dandies, with superb partings down the back of their heads, and splendid drooping whiskers, dressed in real London costumes, young bucks whom one would fancy there was nothing to hinder from becoming as vulgar as the illustrious French wit above mentioned. But no! our home products are not in fashion it seems; and Countess S., the celebrated arbitress of fashion and grand genre, by spiteful tongues nicknamed "Queen of the Wasps, " and "Medusa in a mob—cap, " prefers, in the absence of the French wit, to consort with the Italians, Moldavians, American spiritualists, smart secretaries of foreign embassies, and Germans of effeminate, but prematurely circumspect, physiognomy, of whom the place is full. The example of the Countess is followed by the Princess Babette, she in whose arms Chopin died (the ladies in Europe in whose arms he expired are to be reckoned by thousands); and the Princess Annette, who would have been perfectly captivating, if the simple village washerwoman had not suddenly peeped out in her at times, like a smell of cabbage, wafted across the most delicate perfume; and Princess Pachette, to whom the following mischance had occurred: her husband had fallen into a good berth, and all at once, Dieu sait pourpuoi, he had thrashed the provost and stolen 20, 000rubles of public money; and the laughing Princess Zizi; and the tearful Princess Zozo. They all left their compatriots on one side, and were merciless in their treatment of them. Let us, too, leave them on one side, these charming ladies, and walk away from the renowned tree near which they sit in such costly but somewhat tasteless costumes, and God grant them relief from the boredom consuming them!

但是，一旦见了面坐在一起，他们就会变得完全不知所措，不知该说什么，只能可怜地相互说着一些空洞的话，或者听一位迂腐得无可救药的法国智者讲述极其下流、乏味的老笑话。这位智者曾经是名记者，双腿又瘦又短，穿着一双犹太式鞋子，刻薄的小脸上蓄着令人讨厌的小胡须，俨然一个喋喋不休的小丑。他把老笑话年鉴《沙里瓦里和田达马尔》杂志里所有可笑的荒诞故事转述给这些俄国公爵，而这些俄国公爵们呢，竟然感激得哈哈大笑，仿佛不由自主地被迫承认外国人的智慧具有压倒性优势，而他们自己则不可救药，编造不出有趣的故事。但是，这里几乎聚集了我们社会的所有 “精英” ， “所有的名门贵族和时尚界楷模” 。这里有X伯爵，我们举世无双的业余艺术爱好者，颇具天赋的音乐家。他能用钢琴出色地演奏乐曲，但实际上，如果不在琴键上笨拙地胡乱弹几下，他连两个音符都辨别不对。而且，他唱起歌来，模样就介于拙劣的吉普赛歌手和巴黎的理发师之间。这里还有我们迷人的Q男爵，通晓各个领域，如文学、行政管理、演说、打牌。这里也有Y. 亲王，宗教和人民的朋友。他生活在酒垄断贸易的幸福时代，通过出售掺有颠茄的伏特加酒早早地赚了一大笔钱。还有这位英明的O. O. 将军。他曾经成功地镇压过一些地方，还平定过一些叛乱，但现在仍是一个无名小卒，不知道该拿自己怎么办才好。还有这位肥胖、有趣的R. R. 先生。他认为自己身患重病，其实健壮如牛；他自以为才智过人，实际上愣得像块木头……R. R. 先生几乎是当今唯一一个保持着四十年代，即 “当代英雄” 和沃罗滕斯卡娅伯爵夫人时代的花花公子们的传统的人。他仍然保留着用脚后跟摇摆走路的特殊步伐，依旧 “崇尚风采” （俄语中甚至都找不到词来形容这种传统），仍保留着矫揉造作的从容动作、困倦而庄重的表情、刻板愠怒的面容，以及以下习惯：用打哈欠的方式来打断别人的话，盯着自己的手指甲，用鼻子发出冷笑声，突然将帽子从后脑勺拉到眉毛上等等。这里也有一些政府官员、外交家、有欧洲姓氏的大人物和聪慧的学者们。这些学者们猜想，《黄金诏书》是教皇的法令，英国的 “济贫税” 是向穷人征收的。这里还有尽管缄口不语但热血沸腾地迷恋着烟花女子的人，社交界年轻的花花公子。他们将后脑勺上的头发梳得一丝不苟，蓄着极好的连鬓胡须，穿着道地的伦敦服装。您不禁想到，没有什么能阻止这些年轻的纨绔子弟变得和上文提及的杰出法国智者一样低俗。但是，不！我们的国货似乎没那么时髦。这位S. 女伯爵，有名的时尚和风度的仲裁者，被一些毒舌之人称为 “黄蜂女王” 和 “戴睡帽的美杜莎” ，如果法国文人不在，她宁愿与意大利人、摩尔多瓦人、美国巫师、外国使馆聪明的秘书们和带有女人气而一本正经的德国人结交，而不愿与同胞交往。效仿伯爵夫人的有芭贝特王妃，肖邦就是在她的怀里死去的（在欧洲，认为肖邦死于自己怀里的女士估计有数千人）。还有埃尼特王妃，本来是可以相当迷人的，如果她没有时不时地表现出乡下洗衣女的愚蠢的话，这就如同最精致的香水中散发出了卷心菜的气味一般。还有一位巴切特王妃，她经历了以下不幸；她的丈夫找到了一份好差事，可天晓得他为何会突然殴打市长，并且盗用两万银卢布的公款。还有爱笑的琪琪王妃和爱哭的柔柔王妃。她们都把同胞搁在一边并且残忍地对待他们。我们也把这些迷人的女士们搁在一边吧，远离这知名的俄国树，坐在它旁边的女士们都穿着极其华贵但有点儿庸俗的衣服。愿上帝能减轻消耗她们的乏味无聊！