the wife and other stories-第23部分

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The　sanguine　youth's　face　lengthens。

〃Excuse　me；　professor；〃　he　laughs；　〃but　that　would　be　odd　of　me；　to　say　the　least　of　it。　After　studying　for　five　years；　all　at　once　to　give　it　up。〃

〃Oh；　well！　Better　to　have　lost　your　five　years　than　have　to　spend　the　rest　of　your　life　in　doing　work　you　do　not　care　for。〃

But　at　once　I　feel　sorry　for　him；　and　I　hasten　to　add：

〃However；　as　you　think　best。　And　so　read　a　little　more　and　come　again。〃

〃When？〃　the　idle　youth　asks　in　a　hollow　voice。

〃When　you　like。　Tomorrow　if　you　like。〃

And　in　his　good…natured　eyes　I　read：

〃I　can　come　all　right；　but　of　course　you　will　plough　me　again；　you　beast！〃

〃Of　course；〃　I　say；　〃you　won't　know　more　science　for　going　in　for　my　examination　another　fifteen　times；　but　it　is　training　your　character；　and　you　must　be　thankful　for　that。〃

Silence　follows。　I　get　up　and　wait　for　my　visitor　to　go；　but　he　stands　and　looks　towards　the　window；　fingers　his　beard；　and　thinks。　It　grows　boring。

The　sanguine　youth's　voice　is　pleasant　and　mellow；　his　eyes　are　clever　and　ironical；　his　face　is　genial；　though　a　little　bloated　from　frequent　indulgence　in　beer　and　overlong　lying　on　the　sofa；　he　looks　as　though　he　could　tell　me　a　lot　of　interesting　things　about　the　opera；　about　his　affairs　of　the　heart；　and　about　comrades　whom　he　likes。　Unluckily；　it　is　not　the　thing　to　discuss　these　subjects；　or　else　I　should　have　been　glad　to　listen　to　him。

〃Professor；　I　give　you　my　word　of　honour　that　if　you　mark　me　for　a　pass　I　。　。　。　I'll　。　。　。〃

As　soon　as　we　reach　the　〃word　of　honour〃　I　wave　my　hands　and　sit　down　to　the　table。　The　student　ponders　a　minute　longer；　and　says　dejectedly：

〃In　that　case；　good…bye。　。　。　I　beg　your　pardon。〃

〃Good…bye；　my　friend。　Good　luck　to　you。〃

He　goes　irresolutely　into　the　hall；　slowly　puts　on　his　outdoor　things；　and；　going　out　into　the　street；　probably　ponders　for　some　time　longer；　unable　to　think　of　anything；　except　〃old　devil；〃　inwardly　addressed　to　me；　he　goes　into　a　wretched　restaurant　to　dine　and　drink　beer；　and　then　home　to　bed。　〃Peace　be　to　thy　ashes；　honest　toiler。〃

A　third　ring　at　the　bell。　A　young　doctor；　in　a　pair　of　new　black　trousers；　gold　spectacles；　and　of　course　a　white　tie；　walks　in。　He　introduces　himself。　I　beg　him　to　be　seated；　and　ask　what　I　can　do　for　him。　Not　without　emotion；　the　young　devotee　of　science　begins　telling　me　that　he　has　passed　his　examination　as　a　doctor　of　medicine；　and　that　he　has　now　only　to　write　his　dissertation。　He　would　like　to　work　with　me　under　my　guidance；　and　he　would　be　greatly　obliged　to　me　if　I　would　give　him　a　subject　for　his　dissertation。

〃Very　glad　to　be　of　use　to　you；　colleague；〃　I　say；　〃but　just　let　us　come　to　an　understanding　as　to　the　meaning　of　a　dissertation。　That　word　is　taken　to　mean　a　composition　which　is　a　product　of　independent　creative　effort。　Is　that　not　so？　A　work　written　on　another　man's　subject　and　under　another　man's　guidance　is　called　something　different。　。　。　。〃

The　doctor　says　nothing。　I　fly　into　a　rage　and　jump　up　from　my　seat。

〃Why　is　it　you　all　come　to　me？〃　I　cry　angrily。　〃Do　I　keep　a　shop？　I　don't　deal　in　subjects。　For　the　tho　usand　and　oneth　time　I　ask　you　all　to　leave　me　in　peace！　Excuse　my　brutality；　but　I　am　quite　sick　of　it！〃

The　doctor　remains　silent；　but　a　faint　flush　is　apparent　on　his　cheek…bones。　His　face　expresses　a　profound　reverence　for　my　fame　and　my　learning；　but　from　his　eyes　I　can　see　he　feels　a　contempt　for　my　voice；　my　pitiful　figure；　and　my　nervous　gesticulation。　I　impress　him　in　my　anger　as　a　queer　fish。

〃I　don't　keep　a　shop；〃　I　go　on　angrily。　〃And　it　is　a　strange　thing！　Why　don't　you　want　to　be　independent？　Why　have　you　such　a　distaste　for　independence？〃

I　say　a　great　deal；　but　he　still　remains　silent。　By　degrees　I　calm　down；　and　of　course　give　in。　The　doctor　gets　a　subject　from　me　for　his　theme　not　worth　a　halfpenny；　writes　under　my　supervision　a　dissertation　of　no　use　to　any　one；　with　dignity　defends　it　in　a　dreary　discussion；　and　receives　a　degree　of　no　use　to　him。

The　rings　at　the　bell　may　follow　one　another　endlessly；　but　I　will　confine　my　description　here　to　four　of　them。　The　bell　rings　for　the　fourth　time；　and　I　hear　familiar　footsteps；　the　rustle　of　a　dress；　a　dear　voice。　。　。　。

Eighteen　years　ago　a　colleague　of　mine；　an　oculist；　died　leaving　a　little　daughter　Katya；　a　child　of　seven；　and　sixty　thousand　roubles。　In　his　will　he　made　me　the　child's　guardian。　Till　she　was　ten　years　old　Katya　lived　with　us　as　one　of　the　family；　then　she　was　sent　to　a　boarding…school；　and　only　spent　the　summer　holidays　with　us。　I　never　had　time　to　look　after　her　education。　I　only　superintended　it　at　leisure　moments；　and　so　I　can　say　very　little　about　her　childhood。

The　first　thing　I　remember；　and　like　so　much　in　remembrance；　is　the　extraordinary　trustfulness　with　which　she　came　into　our　house　and　let　herself　be　treated　by　the　doctors；　a　trustfulness　which　was　always　shining　in　her　little　face。　She　would　sit　somewhere　out　of　the　way；　with　her　face　tied　up；　invariably　watching　something　with　attention；　whether　she　watched　me　writing　or　turning　over　the　pages　of　a　book；　or　watched　my　wife　bustling　about；　or　the　cook　scrubbing　a　potato　in　the　kitchen；　or　the　dog　playing；　her　eyes　invariably　expressed　the　same　thought　　that　is；　〃Everything　that　is　done　in　this　world　is　nice　and　sensible。〃　She　was　curious；　and　very　fond　of　talking　to　me。　Sometimes　she　would　sit　at　the　table　opposite　me；　watching　my　movements　and　asking　questions。　It　interested　her　to　know　what　I　was　reading；　what　I　did　at　the　University；　whether　I　was　not　afraid　of　the　dead　bodies；　what　I　did　with　my　salary。

〃Do　the　students　fight　at　the　University？〃　she　would　ask。

〃They　do；　dear。〃

〃And　do　you　make　them　go　down　on　their　knees？〃

〃Yes；　I　do。〃

And　she　thought　it　funny　that　the　students　fought　and　I　made　them　go　down　on　their　knees；　and　she　laughed。　She　was　a　gentle；　patient；　good　child。　It　happened　not　infrequently　that　I　saw　something　taken　away　from　her；　saw　her　punished　without　reason；　or　her　curiosity　repressed；　at　such　times　a　look　of　sadness　was　mixed　with　the　invariable　expression　of　trustfulness　on　her　face　　that　was　all。　I　did　not　know　how　to　take　her　part；　only　when　I　saw　her　sad　I　had　an　inclination　to　draw　her　to　me　and　to　commiserate　her　like　some　old　nurse：　〃My　poor　little　orphan　one！〃

I　remember；　too；　that　she　was　fond　of　fine　clothes　and　of　sprinkling　herself　with　scent。　In　that　respect　she　was　like　me。　I；　too；　am　fond　of　pretty　clothes　and　nice　scent。

I　regret　that　I　had　not　time　nor　inclination　to　watch　over　the　rise　and　development　of　the　passion　which　took　complete　possession　of　Katya　when　she　was　fourteen　or　fifteen。　I　mean　her　passionate　love　for　the　theatre。　When　she　used　to　come　from　boarding…school　and　stay　with　us　for　the　summer　holidays；　she　talked　of　nothing　with　such　pleasure　and　such　warmth　as　of　plays　and　actors。　She　bored　us　with　her　continual　talk　of　the　theatre。　My　wife　and　children　would　not　listen　to　her。　I　was　the　only　one　who　had　not　the　courage　to　refuse　to　attend　to　her。　When　she　had　a　longing　to　share　her　transports；　she　used　to　come　into　my　study　and　say　in　an　imploring　tone：

〃Nikolay　Stepanovitch；　do　let　me　talk　to　you　about　the　theatre！〃

I　pointed　to　the　clock；　and　said：

〃I'll　give　you　half　an　hour　　begin。〃

Later　on　she　used　to　bring　with　her　dozens　of　portraits　of　actors　and　actresses　which　she　worshipped；　then　she　attempted　several　times　to　take　part　in　private　theatricals；　and　the　upshot　of　it　all　was　that　when　she　left　school　she　came　to　me　and　announced　that　she　was　born　to　be　an　actress。

I　had　never　shared　Katya's　inclinations　for　the　theatre。　To　my　mind；　if　a　play　is　good　there　is　no　need　to　trouble　the　actors　in　order　that　it　may　make　the　right　impression；　it　is　enough　to　read　it。　If　the　play　is　poor；　no　acting　will　make　it　good。

In　my　youth　I　often　visited　the　theatre；　and　now　my　family　takes　a　box　twice　a　year　and　carries　me　off　for　a　little　distraction。　Of　course；　that　is　not　enough　to　give　me　the　right　to　judge　of　the　theatre。　In　my　opinion　the　theatre　has　become　no　better　than　it　was　thirty　or　forty　years　ago。　Just　as　in　the　past；　I　can　never　find　a　glass　of　clean　water　in　the　corridors　or　foyers　of　the　theatre。　Just　as　in　the　past；　the　attendants　fine　me　twenty　kopecks　for　my　fur　coat；　though　there　is　nothing　reprehensible　in　wearing　a　warm　coat　in　winter。　As　in　the　past；　for　no　sort　of　reason；　music　is　played　in　the　intervals；　which　adds　something　new　and　uncalled…for　to　the　impression　made　by　the　play。　As　in　the　past；　men　go　in　the　intervals　and　drink　spirits　in　the　buffet。　If　no　progress　can　be　seen　in　trifles；　I　should　look　for　it　in　vain　in　what　is　more　important。　When　an　actor　wrapped　from　head　to　foot　in　stage　traditions　and　conventions　tries　to　recite　a　simple　ordinary　speech；　〃To　be　or　not　to　be；〃　not　simply；　but　invariably　with　the　accompaniment　of　hissing　and　convulsive　movements　all　over　his　body；　or　when　he　tries　to　convince　me　at　all　costs　that　Tchatsky；　who　talks　so　much　with　fools　and　is　so　fond　of　folly；　is　a　very　clever　man；　and　that　〃Woe　from　Wit〃　is　not　a　dull　play；　the　stage　gives　me　the　same　feeling　of　conventionality　which　bored　me　so　much　for