dead souls(死魂灵)-第47部分

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u　one　beholds　no　cities　with　lofty；　many…windowed　mansions；　lofty　as　crags；　no　picturesque　trees；　no　ivy…clad　ruins；　no　waterfalls　with　their　everlasting　spray　and　roar；　no　beetling　precipices　which　confuse　the　brain　with　their　stony　immensity；　no　vistas　of　vines　and　ivy　and　millions　of　wild　roses　and　ageless　lines　of　blue　hills　which　look　almost　unreal　against　the　clear；　silvery　background　of　the　sky。　In　you　everything　is　flat　and　open；　your　towns　project　like　points　or　signals　from　smooth　levels　of　plain；　and　nothing　whatsoever　enchants　or　deludes　the　eye。　Yet　what　secret；　what　invincible　force　draws　me　to　you？　Why　does　there　ceaselessly　echo　and　re…echo　in　my　ears　the　sad　song　which　hovers　throughout　the　length　and　the　breadth　of　your　borders？　What　is　the　burden　of　that　song？　Why　does　it　wail　and　sob　and　catch　at　my　heart？　What　say　the　notes　which　thus　painfully　caress　and　embrace　my　soul；　and　flit；　uttering　their　lamentations；　around　me？　What　is　it　you　seek　of　me；　O　Russia？　What　is　the　hidden　bond　which　subsists　between　us？　Why　do　you　regard　me　as　you　do？　Why　does　everything　within　you　turn　upon　me　eyes　full　of　yearning？　Even　at　this　moment；　as　I　stand　dumbly；　fixedly；　perplexedly　contemplating　your　vastness；　a　menacing　cloud；　charged　with　gathering　rain；　seems　to　overshadow　my　head。　What　is　it　that　your　boundless　expanses　presage？　Do　they　not　presage　that　one　day　there　will　arise　in　you　ideas　as　boundless　as　yourself？　Do　they　not　presage　that　one　day　you　too　will　know　no　limits？　Do　they　not　presage　that　one　day；　when　again　you　shall　have　room　for　their　exploits；　there　will　spring　to　life　the　heroes　of　old？　How　the　power　of　your　immensity　enfolds　me；　and　reverberates　through　all　my　being　with　a　wild；　strange　spell；　and　flashes　in　my　eyes　with　an　almost　supernatural　radiance！　Yes；　a　strange；　brilliant；　unearthly　vista　indeed　do　you　disclose；　O　Russia；　country　of　mine！

〃Stop；　stop；　you　fool！〃　shouted　Chichikov　to　Selifan；　and　even　as　he　spoke　a　troika；　bound　on　Government　business；　came　chattering　by；　and　disappeared　in　a　cloud　of　dust。　To　Chichikov's　curses　at　Selifan　for　not　having　drawn　out　of　the　way　with　more　alacrity　a　rural　constable　with　moustaches　of　the　length　of　an　arshin　added　his　quota。

What　a　curious　and　attractive；　yet　also　what　an　unreal；　fascination　the　term　〃highway〃　connotes！　And　how　interesting　for　its　own　sake　is　a　highway！　Should　the　day　be　a　fine　one　（though　chilly）　in　mellowing　autumn；　press　closer　your　travelling　cloak；　and　draw　down　your　cap　over　your　ears；　and　snuggle　cosily；　comfortably　into　a　corner　of　the　britchka　before　a　last　shiver　shall　course　through　your　limbs；　and　the　ensuing　warmth　shall　put　to　flight　the　autumnal　cold　and　damp。　As　the　horses　gallop　on　their　way；　how　delightfully　will　drowsiness　come　stealing　upon　you；　and　make　your　eyelids　droop！　For　a　while；　through　your　somnolence；　you　will　continue　to　hear　the　hard　breathing　of　the　team　and　the　rumbling　of　the　wheels；　but　at　length；　sinking　back　into　your　corner；　you　will　relapse　into　the　stage　of　snoring。　And　when　you　awakebehold！　you　will　find　that　five　stages　have　slipped　away；　and　that　the　moon　is　shining；　and　that　you　have　reached　a　strange　town　of　churches　and　old　wooden　cupolas　and　blackened　spires　and　white；　half…timbered　houses！　And　as　the　moonlight　glints　hither　and　thither；　almost　you　will　believe　that　the　walls　and　the　streets　and　the　pavements　of　the　place　are　spread　with　sheetssheets　shot　with　coal…black　shadows　which　make　the　wooden　roofs　look　all　the　brighter　under　the　slanting　beams　of　the　pale　luminary。　Nowhere　is　a　soul　to　be　seen；　for　every　one　is　plunged　in　slumber。　Yet　no。　In　a　solitary　window　a　light　is　flickering　where　some　good　burgher　is　mending　his　boots；　or　a　baker　drawing　a　batch　of　dough。　O　night　and　powers　of　heaven；　how　perfect　is　the　blackness　of　your　infinite　vaulthow　lofty；　how　remote　its　inaccessible　depths　where　it　lies　spread　in　an　intangible；　yet　audible；　silence！　Freshly　does　the　lulling　breath　of　night　blow　in　your　face；　until　once　more　you　relapse　into　snoring　oblivion；　and　your　poor　neighbour　turns　angrily　in　his　corner　as　he　begins　to　be　conscious　of　your　weight。　Then　again　you　awake；　but　this　time　to　find　yourself　confronted　with　only　fields　and　steppes。　Everywhere　in　the　ascendant　is　the　desolation　of　space。　But　suddenly　the　ciphers　on　a　verst　stone　leap　to　the　eye！　Morning　is　rising；　and　on　the　chill；　gradually　paling　line　of　the　horizon　you　can　see　gleaming　a　faint　gold　streak。　The　wind　freshens　and　grows　keener；　and　you　snuggle　closer　in　your　cloak；　yet　how　glorious　is　that　freshness；　and　how　marvellous　the　sleep　in　which　once　again　you　become　enfolded！　A　jolt！and　for　the　last　time　you　return　to　consciousness。　By　now　the　sun　is　high　in　the　heavens；　and　you　hear　a　voice　cry　〃gently；　gently！〃　as　a　farm　waggon　issues　from　a　by…road。　Below；　enclosed　within　an　ample　dike；　stretches　a　sheet　of　water　which　glistens　like　copper　in　the　sunlight。　Beyond；　on　the　side　of　a　slope；　lie　some　scattered　peasants'　huts；　a　manor　house；　and；　flanking　the　latter；　a　village　church　with　its　cross　flashing　like　a　star。　There　also　comes　wafted　to　your　ear　the　sound　of　peasants'　laughter；　while　in　your　inner　man　you　are　becoming　conscious　of　an　appetite　which　is　not　to　be　withstood。

Oh　long…drawn　highway；　how　excellent　you　are！　How　often　have　I　in　weariness　and　despondency　set　forth　upon　your　length；　and　found　in　you　salvation　and　rest！　How　often；　as　I　followed　your　leading；　have　I　been　visited　with　wonderful　thoughts　and　poetic　dreams　and　curious；　wild　impressions！

At　this　moment　our　friend　Chichikov　also　was　experiencing　visions　of　a　not　wholly　prosaic　nature。　Let　us　peep　into　his　soul　and　share　them。　At　first　he　remained　unconscious　of　anything　whatsoever；　for　he　was　too　much　engaged　in　making　sure　that　he　was　really　clear　of　the　town；　but　as　soon　as　he　saw　that　it　had　completely　disappeared；　with　its　mills　and　factories　and　other　urban　appurtenances；　and　that　even　the　steeples　of　the　white　stone　churches　had　sunk　below　the　horizon；　he　turned　his　attention　to　the　road；　and　the　town　of　N。　vanished　from　his　thoughts　as　completely　as　though　he　had　not　seen　it　since　childhood。　Again；　in　its　turn；　the　road　ceased　to　interest　him；　and　he　began　to　close　his　eyes　and　to　loll　his　head　against　the　cushions。　Of　this　let　the　author　take　advantage；　in　order　to　speak　at　length　concerning　his　hero；　since　hitherto　he　（the　author）　has　been　prevented　from　so　doing　by　Nozdrev　and　balls　and　ladies　and　local　intriguesby　those　thousand　trifles　which　seem　trifles　only　when　they　are　introduced　into　a　book；　but　which；　in　life；　figure　as　affairs　of　importance。　Let　us　lay　them　aside；　and　betake　ourselves　to　business。

Whether　the　character　whom　I　have　selected　for　my　hero　has　pleased　my　readers　is；　of　course；　exceedingly　doubtful。　At　all　events　the　ladies　will　have　failed　to　approve　him　for　the　fair　sex　demands　in　a　hero　perfection；　and；　should　there　be　the　least　mental　or　physical　stain　on　himwell；　woe　betide！　Yes；　no　matter　how　profoundly　the　author　may　probe　that　hero's　soul；　no　matter　how　clearly　he　may　portray　his　figure　as　in　a　mirror；　he　will　be　given　no　credit　for　the　achievement。　Indeed；　Chichikov's　very　stoutness　and　plenitude　of　years　may　have　militated　against　him；　for　never　is　a　hero　pardoned　for　the　former；　and　the　majority　of　ladies　will；　in　such　case；　turn　away；　and　mutter　to　themselves：　〃Phew！　What　a　beast！〃　Yes；　the　author　is　well　aware　of　this。　Yet；　though　he　could　not；　to　save　his　life；　take　a　person　of　virtue　for　his　principal　character；　it　may　be　that　this　story　contains　themes　never　before　selected；　and　that　in　it　there　projects　the　whole　boundless　wealth　of　Russian　psychology；　that　it　portrays；　as　well　as　Chichikov；　the　peasant　who　is　gifted　with　the　virtues　which　God　has　sent　him；　and　the　marvellous　maiden　of　Russia　who　has　not　her　like　in　all　the　world　for　her　beautiful　feminine　spirituality；　the　roots　of　which　lie　buried　in　noble　aspirations　and　boundless　self…denial。　In　fact；　compared　with　these　types；　the　virtuous　of　other　races　seem　lifeless；　as　does　an　inanimate　volume　when　compared　with　the　living　word。　Yes；　each　time　that　there　arises　in　Russia　a　movement　of　thought；　it　becomes　clear　that　the　movement　sinks　deep　into　the　Slavonic　nature　where　it　would　but　have　skimmed　the　surface　of　other　nations。But　why　am　I　talking　like　this？　Whither　am　I　tending？　It　is　indeed　shameful　that　an　author　who　long　ago　reached　man's　estate；　and　was　brought　up　to　a　course　of　severe　introspection　and　sober；　solitary　self…enlightenment；　should　give　way　to　such　jejune　wandering　from　the　point。　To　everything　its　proper　time　and　place　and　turn。　As　I　was　saying；　it　does　not　lie　in　me　to　take　a　virtuous　character　for　my　hero：　and　I　will　tell　you　why。　It　is　because　it　is　high　time　that　a　rest　were　given　to　the　〃poor；　but　virtuous〃　individual；　it　is　because　the　phrase　〃a　man　of　worth〃　has　grown　into　a　by…word；　it　is　because　the　〃man　of　worth〃　has　become　converted　into　a　horse；　and　there　is　not　a　writer　but　rides　him　and　flogs　him；　in　and　out　of　season；　it　is　because　the　〃man　of　worth〃　has　been　starved　until　he　has　not　a　shred　of　his　virtue　left；　and　all　that　remains　of　his　body　is　but　the　ribs　and　the　hide；　it　is　because　the　〃man