Part 3 Chapter 17

"I HAVE NOTHING MORE TO SAY."

"What do you think of that?" said Mary Pavlovna. "In love--quite in love. Now, that's a thing I never should have expected, that Valdemar Simonson should be in love, and in the silliest, most boyish manner. It is strange, and, to say the truth, it is sad," and she sighed.

"But she? Katusha? How does she look at it, do you think?" Nekhludoff asked.

"She?" Mary Pavlovna waited, evidently wishing to give as exact an answer as possible. "She? Well, you see, in spite of her past she has one of the most moral natures--and such fine feelings. She loves you--loves you well, and is happy to be able to do you even the negative good of not letting you get entangled with her. Marriage with you would be a terrible fall for her, worse than all that's past, and therefore she will never consent to it. And yet your presence troubles her."

"Well, what am I to do? Ought I to vanish?"

Mary Pavlovna smiled her sweet, childlike smile, and said, "Yes, partly."

"How is one to vanish partly?"

"I am talking nonsense. But as for her, I should like to tell you that she probably sees the silliness of this rapturous kind of love (he has not spoken to her), and is both flattered and afraid of it. I am not competent to judge in such affairs, you know, still I believe that on his part it is the most ordinary man's feeling, though it is masked. He says that this love arouses his energy and is Platonic, but I know that even if it is exceptional, still at the bottom it is degrading."

Mary Pavlovna had wandered from the subject, having started on her favourite theme.

"Well, but what am I to do?" Nekhludoff asked.

"I think you should tell her everything; it is always best that everything should be clear. Have a talk with her; I shall call her. Shall I?" said Mary Pavlovna.

"If you please," said Nekhludoff, and Mary Pavlovna went.

A strange feeling overcame Nekhludoff when he was alone in the little room with the sleeping Vera Doukhova, listening to her soft breathing, broken now and then by moans, and to the incessant dirt that came through the two doors that separated him from the criminals. What Simonson had told him freed him from the self-imposed duty, which had seemed hard and strange to him in his weak moments, and yet now he felt something that was not merely unpleasant but painful.

He had a feeling that this offer of Simonson's destroyed the exceptional character of his sacrifice, and thereby lessened its value in his own and others' eyes; if so good a man who was not bound to her by any kind of tie wanted to join his fate to hers, then this sacrifice was not so great. There may have also been an admixture of ordinary jealousy. He had got so used to her love that he did not like to admit that she loved another.

Then it also upset the plans he had formed of living near her while she was doing her term. If she married Simonson his presence would be unnecessary, and he would have to form new plans.

Before he had time to analyse his feelings the loud din of the prisoners' voices came in with a rush (something special was going on among them to-day) as the door opened to let Katusha in.

She stepped briskly close up to him and said, "Mary Pavlovna has sent me."

"Yes, I must have a talk with you. Sit down. Valdemar Simonson has been speaking to me."

She sat down and folded her hands in her lap and seemed quite calm, but hardly had Nekhludoff uttered Simonson's name when she flushed crimson.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"He told me he wanted to marry you."

Her face suddenly puckered up with pain, but she said nothing and only cast down her eyes.

"He is asking for my consent or my advice. I told him that it all depends entirely on you--that you must decide."

"Ah, what does it all mean? Why?" she muttered, and looked in his eyes with that peculiar squint that always strangely affected Nekhludoff.

They sat silent for a few minutes looking into each other's eyes, and this look told much to both of them.

"You must decide," Nekhludoff repeated.

"What am I to decide? Everything has long been decided."

"No; you must decide whether you will accept Mr. Simonson's offer," said Nekhludoff.

"What sort of a wife can I be--I, a convict? Why should I ruin Mr. Simonson, too?" she said, with a frown.

"Well, but if the sentence should be mitigated."

"Oh, leave me alone. I have nothing more to say," she said, and rose to leave the room.

“哦，怎么搞的？”谢基尼娜说。“他在谈恋一爱一了，真的在谈恋一爱一了。嘿，西蒙松简直象个孩子，居然这样傻头傻脑地谈起恋一爱一来，这可是万万想不到的。真是太奇怪了，说实在的，也是太可悲了，”她叹了一口气，结束说。

“那么，卡秋莎呢？您想她会怎样对待这件事？”聂赫留朵夫问。

“她吗？”谢基尼娜停了停，显然在考虑怎样尽可能恰当地回答这个问题。“她吗？您要知道，尽管她以前有过那样的经历，人倒是挺本份的……也很能体贴人……她一爱一您，真心一爱一您，她要是能为您做件好事，哪怕是从消极方面考虑，只要您不再受她的拖累，她就感到很高兴了。对她来说，跟您结婚将是一种可怕的堕一落，比以前干的什么事都更堕一落，因此她决不会同意。再说，您在她身边，反而使她感到不安。”

“那怎么办呢？我得离开这儿吗？”聂赫留朵夫说。

谢基尼娜天真地微微一笑。

“是的，多多少少得这么办。”

“多多少少，我怎么能多多少少离开这儿呢？”

“我这是一胡一说了。不过，她的事，我想告诉您，她大概看出他那种狂一热的一爱一有点荒唐（他其实还没有向她表白过），所以又喜又惊。不瞒您说，这种事我是不在行的，但我觉得，他的感情虽然比较含蓄，也不外乎男人的那种感情。他说这种一爱一情使他一精一神上变得高尚，又说它是柏拉图式的。但我看，这种一爱一情即使与众不同，它的基础还是肮脏的……就象诺伏德伏罗夫对格拉别茨那样。”

谢基尼娜一谈到她心一爱一的题目，就离开了本题。

“那么，我究竟该怎么办呢？”聂赫留朵夫问。

“我想您得对她说一说。把事情都讲讲清楚总是好的。您同她谈一谈，我去把她叫来。好吗？”谢基尼娜说。

“那就麻烦您了，”聂赫留朵夫说。谢基尼娜走了出去。

聂赫留朵夫独自留在小小的牢房里，听着薇拉轻微的呼吸声，偶尔还夹杂着呻一吟，以及隔着两个房门，从刑事犯那里不断传来的喧闹声，他心头涌起一种古怪的感情。

西蒙松对他说了那番话，解除了他自愿承担的责任，这种责任在他意志脆弱的时刻是沉重而别扭的，但此刻他的心情不仅并不轻松，甚至感到痛苦。他的内心还有这样的感觉，就是西蒙松的求婚使他独特的高尚行为无法实现，使他的自我牺牲在他自己眼里和别人眼里降低了价值：既然这样一个跟她毫无关系的人都愿意跟她同甘共苦，那么他的牺牲就显得微不足道了。也许这里还有一种普通的妒意，因为他已经惯于领受她对他的一爱一，无法容忍她再一爱一别人。再说，这样一来也就破坏了他的计划：在她服刑期间同她生活在一起。她要是嫁给西蒙松，他待在这里就没有必要，他就得重新考虑生活计划。他还没来得及琢磨自己的心情，房门突然开了，传来刑事犯更嘈杂的喧哗（今天他们那里出了一件不平常的事），紧接着玛丝洛娃走了进来。

她快步走到聂赫留朵夫跟前。

“是谢基尼娜叫我来的，”玛丝洛娃在他身边站住，说。

“是的，我有话要跟您说。您请坐。西蒙松跟我谈过话了。”

玛丝洛娃双手放在膝盖上，坐下来，样子很镇定，但聂赫留朵夫一提到西蒙松的名字，她的脸就涨得通红。

“他跟您说了些什么？”她问。

“他告诉我，他想跟您结婚。”

玛丝洛娃的脸顿时皱起来，现出痛苦的神色。她什么也没有说，只是垂下了眼睛。

“他要征得我的同意，或者听听我的想法。我说这事全得由您作主，由您决定。”

“哦，这是怎么一回事？何必这样呢？”她说，用那种一向使聂赫留朵夫特别动心的斜睨瞧了瞧他的眼睛。他们默默地对视了几秒钟。这种目光对双方都含义深长。

“这事应当由您决定，”聂赫留朵夫又说了一遍。

“我有什么可决定的？”玛丝洛娃说。“一切都早已决定了。”

“不，您应当决定接受不接受西蒙松的求婚，”聂赫留朵夫说。

“象我这样一个苦役犯怎么能做人家的老婆？我何必把西蒙松也给毁了呢？”她皱起眉头说。

“嗯，要是能获得特赦呢？”聂赫留朵夫说。

“哎，您别管我。我没有什么话要说了，”她说着站起来，走了出去。