Chapter 39
第三十九章
When I left him, after we had buried poor Blanche, Stroeve walked into the house with a heavy heart. Something impelled him to go to the studio, some obscure desire for self-torture, and yet he dreaded the anguish that he foresaw. He dragged himself up the stairs; his feet seemed unwilling to carry him; and outside the door he lingered for a long time, trying to summon up courage to go in. He felt horribly sick. He had an impulse to run down the stairs after me and beg me to go in with him; he had a feeling that there was somebody in the studio. He remembered how often he had waited for a minute or two on the landing to get his breath after the ascent, and how absurdly his impatience to see Blanche had taken it away again. To see her was a delight that never staled, and even though he had not been out an hour he was as excited at the prospect as if they had been parted for a month. Suddenly he could not believe that she was dead. What had happened could only be a dream, a frightful dream; and when he turned the key and opened the door, he would see her bending slightly over the table in the gracious attitude of the woman in Chardin's Benedicite, which always seemed to him so exquisite. Hurriedly he took the key out of his pocket, opened, and walked in.
我们那天埋葬了可怜的勃朗什，分手以后，施特略夫怀着一颗沉重的心走进自己的房子。他被什么驱使着向画室走去，也许是被某种想折磨自己的模糊的愿望，尽管他非常害怕他必将感到的剧烈痛苦。他拖着双脚走上楼梯，他的两只脚好象很不愿意往那地方移动。他在画室外面站了很久很久，拼命鼓起勇气来推门进去。他觉得一阵阵地犯恶心，想要呕吐。他几乎禁不住自己要跑下楼梯去把我追回来，求我陪着一起进去。他有一种感觉，仿佛画室里有人似的。他记得过去气喘吁吁地走上楼梯，总要在楼梯口站一两分钟，让呼吸平静一些再进屋子，可是又由于迫不及待想见到勃朗什（心情那么急切多么可笑！）呼吸总是平静不下来。每次见到勃朗什都使他喜不自禁，哪怕出门还不到一个钟头，一想到同她会面也兴奋得无法自持，就象分别了一月之久似的。突然间他不能相信她已经死了。所发生的事只应是一个梦，一个噩梦；当他转动钥匙打开门以后，他会看到她的身躯微俯在桌子上面，同夏尔丹的名画《饭前祷告》里面那个妇女的身姿一样优美。施特略夫一向觉得这幅画精美绝伦。他急忙从口袋里掏出钥匙，把门打开，走了进去。
The apartment had no look of desertion. His wife's tidiness was one of the traits which had so much pleased him; his own upbringing had given him a tender sympathy for the delight in orderliness; and when he had seen her instinctive desire to put each thing in its appointed place it had given him a little warm feeling in his heart. The bedroom looked as though she had just left it: the brushes were neatly placed on the toilet-table, one on each side of the comb; someone had smoothed down the bed on which she had spent her last night in the studio; and her nightdress in a little case lay on the pillow. It was impossible to believe that she would never come into that room again.
房间不象没人住的样子。勃朗什习性整洁，施特略夫非常喜次她这一点。他小时候的教养使他对别人爱好整洁的习惯极富同感。当他看到勃朗什出于天性样样东西都放得井井有条，他心里有一种热呼呼的感觉。卧室看上去象是她离开没有多久的样子：几把刷子整整齐齐地摆在梳妆台上，每一把放在一只梳子旁边；她在画室里最后一夜睡过的床铺不知有谁整理过，铺得平平整整；她的睡衣放在一个小盒子里，摆在枕头上面。真不能相信，她永远也不回这间屋子里来了。