SOON after two o’clock one night, long ago, the cook, pale and agitated, rushed unexpectedly into my study and informed me that Madame Mimotih, the old woman who owned the house next door, was sitting in her kitchen.
凌晨两点过后不久，那天晚上，厨师脸色苍白，激动地突然冲进我的书房，告诉我，隔壁房子的老妇人米莫蒂太太正坐在她的厨房里。

“She begs you to go in to her, sir …” said the cook, panting. —
厨师喘着气说，“她求您去见她，先生……” —

“Something bad has happened about her lodger… . —
“她有点不好，关于她的房客……” —

He has shot himself or hanged himself… .”
“他开枪自杀或上吊了……”

“What can I do?” said I. “Let her go for the doctor or for the police!”
“我能做些什么？”我说，“让她去找医生或警察！”

“How is she to look for a doctor! She can hardly breathe, and she has huddled under the stove, she is so frightened. —
“她怎么找医生！她几乎喘不过气，她蜷缩在炉子下，惊吓得不行。 —

… You had better go round, sir.”
7, “你最好去一趟，先生。”

I put on my coat and hat and went to Madame Mimotih’s house. —
我穿上外套戴上帽子，走向米莫蒂太太家。 —

The gate towards which I directed my steps was open. —
我走向的大门是开着的。 —

After pausing beside it, uncertain what to do, I went into the yard without feeling for the porter’s bell. —
在旁边犹豫了一会儿后，我没有去找门房铃，就走进了院子。 —

In the dark and dilapidated porch the door was not locked. I opened it and walked into the entry. —
在黑暗而破旧的门廊里，门没有锁。我打开了它，走进了门厅。 —

Here there was not a glimmer of light, it was pitch dark, and, moreover, there was a marked smell of incense. —
这里一片漆黑，没有一丝光亮，而且还有一股明显的乳香味。 —

Groping my way out of the entry I knocked my elbow against something made of iron, and in the darkness stumbled against a board of some sort which almost fell to the floor. —
在摸索着走出门厅的时候，我的手肘撞到了一些铁制物件，而在黑暗中，我几乎撞到了一块几乎掉到地板上的木板。 —

At last the door covered with torn baize was found, and I went into a little hall.
最后找到了用破旧毛毡盖着的门，我走进了一个小大厅。

I am not at the moment writing a fairy tale, and am far from intending to alarm the reader, but the picture I saw from the passage was fantastic and could only have been drawn by death. —
我此刻并不是在写一个童话故事，并且远非想要惊吓读者，但我从走廊看到的画面太奇幻，只能由死亡绘制。 —

Straight before me was a door leading to a little drawing-room. —
在我面前是一扇通往一个小客厅的门。 —

Three five-kopeck wax candles, standing in a row, threw a scanty light on the faded slate- coloured wallpaper. —
三支五戈比克蜡烛排成一行，在褪色的石板色墙纸上投射出微弱的光芒。 —

A coffin was standing on two tables in the middle of the little room. —
一个棺材放在小房间中间的两张桌子上。 —

The two candles served only to light up a swarthy yellow face with a half-open mouth and sharp nose. Billows of muslin were mingled in disorder from the face to the tips of the two shoes, and from among the billows peeped out two pale motionless hands, holding a wax cross. —
两支蜡烛只照亮了一个黝黑的黄脸，半开着的嘴和尖尖的鼻子。从脸到两只鞋的尖端都是薄纱的波浪，波浪中露出两只苍白静止的手，握着一支蜡烛。 —

The dark gloomy corners of the little drawing-room, the ikons behind the coffin, the coffin itself, everything except the softly glimmering lights, were still as death, as the tomb itself.
小客厅的昏暗角落、棺材后面的圣像、棺材本身，除了柔和闪烁的灯光外，一切都寂静如墓。

“How strange!” I thought, dumbfoundered by the unexpected panorama of death. “Why this haste? —
“多么奇怪!”我被这突如其来的死亡景观惊呆了。“为什么这么仓促? —

The lodger has hardly had time to hang himself, or shoot himself, and here is the coffin already!”
房客还没来得及上吊或开枪自尽，棺材就已经在这里了!”

I looked round. On the left there was a door with a glass panel; —
我环顾四周。左边有一扇玻璃门; —

on the right a lame hat-stand with a shabby fur coat on it… .
右边有一个残破的帽架，上面挂着一件破旧的毛皮大衣。。。

“Water… .” I heard a moan.
“水。。。”我听到一声呻吟。

The moan came from the left, beyond the door with the glass panel. —
呻吟声来自左边，超过那扇有玻璃板的门。 —

I opened the door and walked into a little dark room with a solitary window, through which there came a faint light from a street lamp outside.
我打开门，走进一个小而昏暗的房间，一扇窗户透进来弱弱的灯光，来自外面的一盏街灯。

“Is anyone here?” I asked.
“有人在吗?”我问。

And without waiting for an answer I struck a match. This is what I saw while it was burning. —
在燃烧的时候我看到了这个画面。 —

A man was sitting on the blood-stained floor at my very feet. —
一个男人坐在我脚下满是血迹的地板上。 —

If my step had been a longer one I should have trodden on him. —
如果我的步子再长一点，我可能就会踩到他了。 —

With his legs thrust forward and his hands pressed on the floor, he was making an effort to raise his handsome face, which was deathly pale against his pitch-black beard. —
他伸直双腿，双手撑在地板上，努力抬起他那张英俊的脸，死白的脸色与漆黑的胡须形成鲜明对比。 —

In the big eyes which he lifted upon me, I read unutterable terror, pain, and entreaty. —
他抬起的一双大眼睛里，我读到了难以言表的恐惧、痛苦和恳求。 —

A cold sweat trickled in big drops down his face. —
一滴滴冷汗顺着他的脸颊滴落。 —

That sweat, the expression of his face, the trembling of the hands he leaned upon, his hard breathing and his clenched teeth, showed that he was suffering beyond endurance. —
那汗水、他脸上的表情、颤抖的双手、倚着的紧咬的牙齿，显示出他正受着难以忍受的苦楚。 —

Near his right hand in a pool of blood lay a revolver.
离他的右手边一滩血的地方躺着一支左轮手枪。

“Don’t go away,” I heard a faint voice when the match had gone out. —
火柴熄灭后，我听到一道微弱的声音说：“别走，”。 —

“There’s a candle on the table.”
“桌子上有支蜡烛。”

I lighted the candle and stood still in the middle of the room not knowing what to do next. —
我点亮了蜡烛，站在房间中央，不知道接下来该做什么。 —

I stood and looked at the man on the floor, and it seemed to me that I had seen him before.
我站着看着地板上的那个人，感觉好像以前见过他。

“The pain is insufferable,” he whispered, “and I haven’t the strength to shoot myself again. —
“痛苦难忍，”他低声细语，“我没有力气再开枪了。 —

Incomprehensible lack of will.”
意志力缺乏。”

I flung off my overcoat and attended to the sick man. —
我扔掉外套，开始照料那个病人。 —

Lifting him from the floor like a baby, I laid him on the American-leather covered sofa and carefully undressed him. —
我像抱小孩一样把他从地板上抱起，放在覆盖着美国皮革的沙发上，小心翼翼地帮他脱下衣服。 —

He was shivering and cold when I took off his clothes; —
我脱下他的衣服时，他在颤抖着、发冷着。 —

the wound which I saw was not in keeping either with his shivering nor the expression on his face. —
我看到的伤口与他的发抖以及脸上的表情都不相称。 —

It was a trifling one. The bullet had passed between the fifth and sixth ribs on the left side, only piercing the skin and the flesh. —
那只是一个微不足道的伤口。子弹穿过了左侧第五和第六根肋骨之间，只刺破了皮肤和肌肉。 —

I found the bullet itself in the folds of the coat-lining near the back pocket. —
我在外套衬里的褶皱中发现了子弹本身，靠近后口袋。 —

Stopping the bleeding as best I could and making a temporary bandage of a pillow-case, a towel, and two handkerchiefs, I gave the wounded man some water and covered him with a fur coat that was hanging in the passage. —
我尽力止血，用枕套、毛巾和两块手帕临时包扎好伤员，给他些水喝，并用走廊上挂着的毛皮大衣盖住他。 —

We neither of us said a word while the bandaging was being done. —
包扎的时候，我们俩一言不发。 —

I did my work while he lay motionless looking at me with his eyes screwed up as though he were ashamed of his unsuccessful shot and the trouble he was giving me.
他躺在那里一动不动地看着我，眼睛眯着，似乎对自己未能成功射击和给我带来麻烦感到羞愧。

“Now I must trouble you to lie still,” I said, when I had finished the bandaging, “while I run to the chemist and get something.”
“现在我得麻烦你静躺着，”包扎完成后我说，“我去药店买点东西。”

“No need!” he muttered, clutching me by the sleeve and opening his eyes wide.
“不用了！”他喃喃地说着，紧紧抓住我的袖子，睁大眼睛。

I read terror in his eyes. He was afraid of my going away.
我看到他眼中的恐惧。他害怕我离开。

“No need! Stay another five minutes … ten. —
“不用了！再呆五分钟…十分钟。 —

If it doesn’t disgust you, do stay, I entreat you.”
如果你不嫌弃的话，就留下吧，我求求你。”

As he begged me he was trembling and his teeth were chattering. —
他恳求时在颤抖，牙齿在打颤。 —

I obeyed, and sat down on the edge of the sofa. Ten minutes passed in silence. —
我遵从了，坐在沙发边上。十分钟的时间在沉默中过去。 —

I sat silent, looking about the room into which fate had brought me so unexpectedly. What poverty! —
我坐在那里，沉默地看着这个命运让我如此意外来到的房间。多么贫穷啊！ —

This man who was the possessor of a handsome, effeminate face and a luxuriant well-tended beard, had surroundings which a humble working man would not have envied. —
这个拥有一张英俊、女性化的脸庞和一头茂密精心打理的胡须的男人，周围的环境让一个谦卑的打工人员也不会羡慕。 —

A sofa with its American-leather torn and peeling, a humble greasy-looking chair, a table covered with a little of paper, and a wretched oleograph on the wall, that was all I saw. —
一张沙发，上面的美国皮革破损脱落，一把看起来油腻的普通椅子，桌子上覆盖着少许纸张，墙上挂着一幅破旧的写真，这就是我看到的一切。 —

Damp, gloomy, and grey.
潮湿、阴郁、灰暗。

“What a wind!” said the sick man, without opening his eyes, “How it whistles!”
“多么大的风啊！”病人没有睁开眼睛地说，“啸叫声多厉害！”

“Yes,” I said. “I say, I fancy I know you. —
“是的，”我说道。“我记得，我觉得我认识你。 —

Didn’t you take part in some private theatricals in General Luhatchev’s villa last year?”
去年你是不是参加了卢哈切夫将军庄园里的一些私人戏剧表演？”

“What of it?” he asked, quickly opening his eyes.
“那又如何？”他问道，迅速睁开眼睛。

A cloud seemed to pass over his face.
一片阴霾似乎从他的脸上掠过。

“I certainly saw you there. Isn’t your name Vassilyev?”
“我肯定在那里见过你。你不是叫瓦西里耶夫吗？”

“If it is, what of it? It makes it no better that you should know me.”
“如果是的话，那又怎样？你认识我并不能让事情变得更好。”

“No, but I just asked you.”
“不，我只是问问而已。”

Vassilyev closed his eyes and, as though offended, turned his face to the back of the sofa.
瓦西里耶夫闭上眼睛，仿佛受到冒犯一样，把脸转向了沙发的背面。

“I don’t understand your curiosity,” he muttered. —
“我不明白你的好奇心，”他喃喃自语。 —

“You’ll be asking me next what it was drove me to commit suicide!”
“你接下来是不是要问我是什么促使我自杀！”

Before a minute had passed, he turned round towards me again, opened his eyes and said in a tearful voice:
还未过一分钟，他再次转过身，睁开眼睛，用含泪的声音说道：

“Excuse me for taking such a tone, but you’ll admit I’m right! —
“对不起我说话这么严厉，但你会承认我是对的！ —

To ask a convict how he got into prison, or a suicide why he shot himself is not generous … —
询问一个罪犯是怎么进监狱的，或者问一个自杀者为什么开枪对他人而言既不仁慈… —

and indelicate. To think of gratifying idle curiosity at the expense of another man’s nerves!”
也不得体。为了满足别人的好奇心而伤害另一个人的神经！”

“There is no need to excite yourself… . —
“没有必要激动自己… —

It never occurred to me to question you about your motives.”
我从来没有想过要问你动机。”

“You would have asked… . It’s what people always do. Though it would be no use to ask. —
“你会问的… 这是人们总是做的事情. 尽管问了也没有用. —

If I told you, you would not believe or understand… . —
如果我告诉你了，你也不会相信或理解… —

I must own I don’t understand it myself… . —
我必须承认我自己也不理解… —

There are phrases used in the police reports and newspapers such as: —
在警方报告和报纸上会用到一些短语如: —

‘unrequited love,’ and ‘hopeless poverty,’ but the reasons are not known… . —
‘无报答的爱’和‘绝望的贫困.’ 但原因是未知的… —

They are not known to me, nor to you, nor to your newspaper offices, where they have the impudence to write ‘The diary of a suicide. —
对我来说是未知的，对你来说也是一样的，对你的报社更是如此，他们竟然写着‘一个自杀者的日记.’ —

’ God alone understands the state of a man’s soul when he takes his own life; —
’ 只有上帝了解一个人决定结束自己生命时灵魂的状态; —

but men know nothing about it.”
而人们对此一无所知。”

“That is all very nice,” I said, “but you oughtn’t to talk… .”
“这一切都很漂亮，” 我说，“但你不应该说话…”

But my suicide could not be stopped, he leaned his head on his fist, and went on in the tone of some great professor:
但我的自杀是无法阻止的，他把头靠在手上，继续以某位大教授的口吻说道：

“Man will never understand the psychological subtleties of suicide! How can one speak of reasons? —
人类永远无法理解自杀的心理微妙之处！怎能谈论原因呢？ —

To-day the reason makes one snatch up a revolver, while to-morrow the same reason seems not worth a rotten egg. —
今天一个原因让人拿起左轮手枪，而明天同样的原因似乎不值一枚烂鸡蛋。 —

It all depends most likely on the particular condition of the individual at the given moment… . —
这很可能完全取决于个体在特定时刻的状况…… —

Take me for instance. Half an hour ago, I had a passionate desire for death, now when the candle is lighted, and you are sitting by me, I don’t even think of the hour of death. —
拿我举例。半小时前，我渴望死亡，现在蜡烛点亮了，你坐在我旁边，我甚至不再想到死亡的时刻。 —

Explain that change if you can! Am I better off, or has my wife risen from the dead? —
解释这种变化吧！我是不是过得更好了，还是我的妻子死而复生了？ —

Is it the influence of the light on me, or the presence of an outsider?”
这是光线对我产生的影响，还是外人在场？

“The light certainly has an influence … —
“光线确实有影响……” —

” I muttered for the sake of saying something. —
我为了说点什么而嘟囔了一句。 —

“The influence of light on the organism … .”
“光线对器官的影响……”

“The influence of light… . We admit it! But you know men do shoot themselves by candle-light! —
“光线的影响……我们承认！但你知道有人常常在烛光下开枪自杀！ —

And it would be ignominious indeed for the heroes of your novels if such a trifling thing as a candle were to change the course of the drama so abruptly. —
如果诸如烛光这种微不足道的事情能如此突然地改变戏剧的走向，那么你小说里的英雄们将岂不可笑。 —

All this nonsense can be explained perhaps, but not by us. —
这一切的荒谬或许能解释，但不是我们来解释。 —

It’s useless to ask questions or give explanations of what one does not understand… .”
问问题或者解释我们不理解的事情是无益的……”

“Forgive me,” I said, “but … judging by the expression of your face, it seems to me that at this moment you … are posing.”
“请原谅，”我说，“但……看你的表情，我觉得你此刻……在装腔作势。”

“Yes,” Vassilyev said, startled. “It’s very possible! I am naturally vain and fatuous. —
“是的，”瓦西里耶夫吃惊地说。“很有可能！我本来就是虚荣而自负的。 —

Well, explain it, if you believe in your power of reading faces! —
如果你相信自己能够从面相中看出一些东西，那就解释一下吧! —

Half an hour ago I shot myself, and just now I am posing. —
半个小时前我开枪自杀了，现在却在摆姿势。 —

… Explain that if you can.”
……如果你能解释的话。

These last words Vassilyev pronounced in a faint, failing voice. —
瓦西里耶夫用微弱、颤抖的声音说完这最后的话。 —

He was exhausted, and sank into silence. A pause followed. I began scrutinising his face. —
他筋疲力尽，陷入了沉默。随之而来的是一阵停顿，我开始仔细观察他的脸。 —

It was as pale as a dead man’s. It seemed as though life were almost extinct in him, and only the signs of the suffering that the “vain and fatuous” man was feeling betrayed that it was still alive. —
他的脸苍白如亡者，仿佛生命在他身上几乎已经消失，只有他这位“自负又愚蠢”的人正在经历的痛苦传达出生命仍然存在的迹象。 —

It was painful to look at that face, but what must it have been for Vassilyev himself who yet had the strength to argue and, if I were not mistaken, to pose?
看着这张脸真是让人心痛，但对于还保留力气辩论并且，如果我没有看错的话，在装腔作势的瓦西里耶夫来说会是怎样呢?

“You here—are you here?” he asked suddenly, raising himself on his elbow. —
“你在这里——你在这里吗？”他突然抬起手肘问道。 —

“My God, just listen!”
“我的天啊，听着!”

I began listening. The rain was pattering angrily on the dark window, never ceasing for a minute. —
我开始聆听。雨点急切地拍打在黑暗的窗户上，毫不停歇。 —

The wind howled plaintively and lugubriously.
风呼啸着，悲伤又哀伤。

“‘And I shall be whiter than snow, and my ears will hear gladness and rejoicing. —
“‘我要比雪更洁白，我的耳朵将听到欢乐和喜乐。 —

’” Madame Mimotih, who had returned, was reading in the drawing-room in a languid, weary voice, neither raising nor dropping the monotonous dreary key.
’”回来的米莫提太太正坐在客厅里，用疲惫而无精打采的语调读着，声音既不高起也不低落，单调而沉闷。

“It is cheerful, isn’t it?” whispered Vassilyev, turning his frightened eyes towards me. —
“这真是令人开心啊，不是吗?”瓦西里耶夫转过惊恐的眼睛向我望去。 —

“My God, the things a man has to see and hear! —
“我的天啊，人生要看到和听到的事情啊! —

If only one could set this chaos to music! —
如果只有人能把这混乱编成音乐！ —

As Hamlet says, ‘it would—
正如哈姆雷特所说，“那将会——

“Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed, The very faculties of eyes and ears.”
“迷惑无知者，确实令人惊叹，连眼睛和耳朵也难以置信。”

“How well I should have understood that music then! How I should have felt it! What time is it?”
“我当时多么理解那音乐啊！我当时会有多感动！现在几点了？”

“Five minutes to three.”
“差五分钟三点。”

“Morning is still far off. And in the morning there’s the funeral. A lovely prospect! —
“早晨还很遥远。而早晨还有葬礼。多美好的前景啊！ —

One follows the coffin through the mud and rain. —
人们跟随棺材穿过泥泞和雨水。 —

One walks along, seeing nothing but the cloudy sky and the wretched scenery. —
人们走着，只看见多云的天空和悲惨的景色。 —

The muddy mutes, taverns, woodstacks… . One’s trousers drenched to the knees. —
满是泥泞的僧侣，酒馆，木头垛……裤脚湿透到膝盖。 —

The never-ending streets. The time dragging out like eternity, the coarse people. —
永无止境的街道。时间拖得像永恒，人们粗俗。 —

And on the heart a stone, a stone!”
心头像石头一样，沉甸甸的石头！”

After a brief pause he suddenly asked: “Is it long since you saw General Luhatchev?”
短暂停顿后，他突然问道：“你多久没见到卢哈切夫将军了？”

“I haven’t seen him since last summer.”
“自去年夏天以来就没见过他。”

“He likes to be cock of the walk, but he is a nice little old chap. And are you still writing?”
“他喜欢出风头，但他是个不错的老家伙。你还在写作吗？”

“Yes, a little.”
“是的，一点点。”

“Ah… . Do you remember how I pranced about like a needle, like an enthusiastic ass at those private theatricals when I was courting Zina? —
“啊… . 你还记得我在追求芝娜时在那些私人戏剧中像针一样蹦跶，像一头热情的驴子吗？ —

It was stupid, but it was good, it was fun… . —
虽然愚蠢，但很不错，很有趣… —

The very memory of it brings back a whiff of spring… . And now! What a cruel change of scene! —
这个回忆让人回味无穷… . 现在！情景变得多么残酷！ —

There is a subject for you! Only don’t you go in for writing ‘the diary of a suicide. —
这就是你的题材！只是你不要写‘自杀日记.’ —

’ That’s vulgar and conventional. You make something humorous of it.”
’那太庸俗和传统了。你应该把它写得幽默一些。”

“Again you are … posing,” I said. “There’s nothing humorous in your position.”
“你再次… 摆姿态，”我说。“你的处境一点也不幽默。”

“Nothing laughable? You say nothing laughable? —
“一点也不好笑？你说一点也不好笑？ —

” Vassilyev sat up, and tears glistened in his eyes. —
瓦西留夫坐起来，眼泪在他的眼睛里闪烁着。 —

An expression of bitter distress came into his pale face. His chin quivered.
苦恼的表情出现在他苍白的脸上，下巴颤抖着。

“You laugh at the deceit of cheating clerks and faithless wives,” he said, “but no clerk, no faithless wife has cheated as my fate has cheated me! —
“你嘲笑欺骗文员和背叛妻子的诡计，”他说，“但我的命运欺骗我的方式没有人（能比得上）！ —

I have been deceived as no bank depositor, no duped husband has ever been deceived! —
我被欺骗得像没有存款的银行客户、被欺骗的丈夫所从未经历的！ —

Only realise what an absurd fool I have been made! —
只有意识到我被变成多么荒谬的傻瓜！ —

Last year before your eyes I did not know what to do with myself for happiness. —
去年在你眼前我对幸福一无所知。 —

And now before your eyes… .”
现在在你面前……”

Vassilyev’s head sank on the pillow and he laughed.
瓦西留夫的头沉落在枕头上，他笑了。

“Nothing more absurd and stupid than such a change could possibly be imagined. Chapter one: —
“没有什么比这种改变更荒谬和愚蠢的了。第一章： —

spring, love, honeymoon … honey, in fact; chapter two: —
春天，爱情，蜜月……实际上，蜂蜜；第二章： —

looking for a job, the pawnshop, pallor, the chemist’s shop, and … —
寻找工作，当铺，苍白，药房，还有…… —

to-morrow’s splashing through the mud to the graveyard.”
明天要在泥泞中溅泼到墓地去。”

He laughed again. I felt acutely uncomfortable and made up my mind to go.
他又笑了。我感到很不自在，决定离开。

“I tell you what,” I said, “you lie down, and I will go to the chemist’s.”
“我告诉你，”我说，“你躺下，我去药房。”

He made no answer. I put on my great-coat and went out of his room. —
他没有回答。我穿上大衣，走出了他的房间。 —

As I crossed the passage I glanced at the coffin and Madame Mimotih reading over it. —
当我穿过通道时，偶然看了一眼棺材和站在旁边默默阅读的米莫蒂夫夫人。 —

I strained my eyes in vain, I could not recognise in the swarthy, yellow face Zina, the lively, pretty ingénue of Luhatchev’s company.
我使劲眯起眼睛，无法将这张黝黑的黄脸跟路哈切夫剧团里那位活泼可爱的女演员琼娜联系在一起。

“Sic transit,” I thought.
“事情就这样结束了，”我想道。

With that I went out, not forgetting to take the revolver, and made my way to the chemist’s. —
说完这话，我出门去了，别忘了带上手枪，然后前往药店。 —

But I ought not to have gone away. When I came back from the chemist’s, Vassilyev lay on the sofa fainting. —
但事实上我不该走开。当我从药店回来时，瓦西里耶夫躺在沙发上昏厥不醒。 —

The bandages had been roughly torn off, and blood was flowing from the reopened wound. —
绷带被粗暴地撕下来，伤口重新裂开，血流不止。 —

It was daylight before I succeeded in restoring him to consciousness. —
直到天亮前我才成功地使他苏醒。 —

He was raving in delirium, shivering, and looking with unseeing eyes about the room till morning had come, and we heard the booming voice of the priest as he read the service over the dead.
他在谵妄中妄语，发抖，眼睛无神地望着房间四周，直到清晨来临，我们听到牧师沉重的声音在已故者身上念经。

When Vassilyev’s rooms were crowded with old women and mutes, when the coffin had been moved and carried out of the yard, I advised him to remain at home. —
瓦西里耶夫的房间挤满了老妇人和哭丧人，当棺材被移开并从院子里抬出时，我劝他呆在家里。 —

But he would not obey me, in spite of the pain and the grey, rainy morning. —
然而他不听我的劝告，无论多么痛苦，无论外面是多么灰暗的雨天。 —

He walked bareheaded and in silence behind the coffin all the way to the cemetery, hardly able to move one leg after the other, and from time to time clutching convulsively at his wounded side. —
他赤着头，默默无语地跟在棺材后面一路走到了墓地，几乎无法一步一步地行走，不时地痉挛地捂着伤口。 —

His face expressed complete apathy. Only once when I roused him from his lethargy by some insignificant question he shifted his eyes over the pavement and the grey fence, and for a moment there was a gleam of gloomy anger in them.
他脸上表现出完全的冷漠。只有一次，当我通过一个无关痛痒的问题唤醒他时，他的眼睛扫过街道和灰色的栅栏，眼中闪过一丝阴沉的愤怒。

“‘Weelright,’” he read on a signboard. “Ignorant, illiterate people, devil take them!”
“‘Weelright’”，他读着招牌。“无知，文盲的人，该死的他们！”

I led him home from the cemetery.
我把他从墓地送回家。

——
——

Only one year has passed since that night, and Vassilyev has hardly had time to wear out the boots in which he tramped through the mud behind his wife’s coffin.
自那个晚上已经过去了一年，瓦西里耶夫几乎没有时间穿烂他跟在妻子棺材后面在泥泞中走过的靴子。

At the present time as I finish this story, he is sitting in my drawing- room and, playing on the piano, is showing the ladies how provincial misses sing sentimental songs. —
在我完成这个故事的现在时，他正坐在我的客厅里，弹着钢琴，向女士们展示乡下姑娘如何唱感伤的歌曲。 —

The ladies are laughing, and he is laughing too. He is enjoying himself.
女士们在笑，他也在笑。他很开心。

I call him into my study. Evidently not pleased at my taking him from agreeable company, he comes to me and stands before me in the attitude of a man who has no time to spare. —
我把他叫进书房。显然不高兴我把他从愉快的伙伴中带走，他走到我面前，摆出一个没有时间浪费的姿态。 —

I give him this story, and ask him to read it. —
我给他这个故事，让他读一下。 —

Always condescending about my authorship, he stifles a sigh, the sigh of a lazy reader, sits down in an armchair and begins upon it.
他总是对我的作者身份嗤之以鼻，他压抑着一声叹息，一种懒惰读者的叹息，坐在扶手椅上开始阅读。

“Hang it all, what horrors,” he mutters with a smile.
“见鬼，多么可怕，”他嘟囔着笑着说。

But the further he gets into the reading, the graver his face becomes. —
但他阅读越深入，脸色越凝重。 —

At last, under the stress of painful memories, he turns terribly pale, he gets up and goes on reading as he stands. —
最后，在痛苦的回忆下，他变得惨白，站起来继续站着读。 —

When he has finished he begins pacing from corner to corner.
当他读完后，开始在房间里到处踱步。

“How does it end?” I ask him.
“结局是什么？”我问他。

“How does it end? H’m… .”
“结局是什么？嗯… .”

He looks at the room, at me, at himself… . —
他看着房间，看着我，看着自己… . —

He sees his new fashionable suit, hears the ladies laughing and … —
他看见自己的新时尚西装，听见女士们的笑声，然后… —

sinking on a chair, begins laughing as he laughed on that night.
倒在椅子上，开始笑，就像那个晚上一样。

“Wasn’t I right when I told you it was all absurd? My God! —
“我告诉你这一切都是荒谬的时候我岂不是对了吗？天哪！ —

I have had burdens to bear that would have broken an elephant’s back; —
我有过要承受能把大象背崩的负担； —

the devil knows what I have suffered—no one could have suffered more, I think, and where are the traces? —
魔鬼知道我受过什么痛苦——我想没有人能比我受得更多，但痕迹在哪里呢？ —

It’s astonishing. One would have thought the imprint made on a man by his agonies would have been everlasting, never to be effaced or eradicated. —
真是令人惊讶。人在痛苦中留下的印记本以为会持久不变，永不消逝或被抹去。 —

And yet that imprint wears out as easily as a pair of cheap boots. —
然而那个印记如同廉价靴子一样容易磨掉。 —

There is nothing left, not a scrap. It’s as though I hadn’t been suffering then, but had been dancing a mazurka. —
一点也没有剩下。就仿佛我当时没有受过痛苦，而是在跳马祖卡舞。 —

Everything in the world is transitory, and that transitoriness is absurd! —
世界上一切都是短暂的，这种短暂是荒谬的！ —

A wide field for humorists! Tack on a humorous end, my friend!”
给幽默作家一个宽广的领域！为它做一个幽默的结局，我的朋友！”

“Pyotr Nikolaevitch, are you coming soon?” The impatient ladies call my hero.
“彼得·尼古拉耶维奇，你快点来好吗？”急切的女士们叫我的英雄。

“This minute,” answers the “vain and fatuous” man, setting his tie straight. —
“这就来，”那个“自负又愚蠢”的人回答，并整理一下领带。 —

“It’s absurd and pitiful, my friend, pitiful and absurd, but what’s to be done? Homo sum… —
“这是荒谬且可怜的，我的朋友，可怜且荒谬，但我们能做些什么呢？我是人类… —

. And I praise Mother Nature all the same for her transmutation of substances. —
而我依然称赞大自然的物质变化。 —

If we retained an agonising memory of toothache and of all the terrors which every one of us has had to experience, if all that were everlasting, we poor mortals would have a bad time of it in this life.”
如果我们保留对牙痛以及我们每个人都不得不经历的所有恐惧的痛苦记忆的话，如果所有这些都是永恒的，我们这些可怜的凡人在这个世界上会过得很艰难。”

I look at his smiling face and I remember the despair and the horror with which his eyes were filled a year ago when he looked at the dark window. —
我看着他笑容满面的脸，想起一年前他眼中充满了绝望和恐怖，当他看着黑暗的窗户。 —

I see him, entering into his habitual rôle of intellectual chatterer, prepare to show off his idle theories, such as the transmutation of substances before me, and at the same time I recall him sitting on the floor in a pool of blood with his sick imploring eyes.
我看着他，重新陷入他习惯的智力谈论者的角色，准备在我面前炫耀他那些无聊的理论，比如物质的转化，与此同时我想起他坐在地板上血泊之中，眼睛病恹恹地乞求着。

“How will it end?” I ask myself aloud.
“它会以怎样的方式结束？”我大声自问。

Vassilyev, whistling and straightening his tie, walks off into the drawing-room, and I look after him, and feel vexed. —
瓦西里耶夫口哨着整理领带，走进客厅，我望着他的背影，感到恼火。 —

For some reason I regret his past sufferings, I regret all that I felt myself on that man’s account on that terrible night. —
出于某种原因，我为他过去的痛苦感到遗憾，为那个可怕的夜晚上我自己对那个人的一切感到遗憾。 —

It is as though I had lost something… .
就好像我失去了什么东西一样。。。