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(单词翻译:双击或拖选)
“Well begin!” said Dolokhov.
“All right,” said Pierre, still smiling in the same way. A feeling of dread2 was in the air. It was evident that the affair so lightly begun could no longer be averted3 but was taking its course independently of men’s will.
Denisov first went to the barrier and announced: “As the adve’sawies have wefused a weconciliation, please pwoceed. Take your pistols, and at the word thwee begin to advance.
“O-ne! T-wo! Thwee!” he shouted angrily and stepped aside.
The combatants advanced along the trodden tracks, nearer and nearer to one another, beginning to see one another through the mist. They had the right to fire when they liked as they approached the barrier. Dolokhov walked slowly without raising his pistol, looking intently with his bright, sparkling blue eyes into his antagonist’s face. His mouth wore its usual semblance4 of a smile.
“So I can fire when I like!” said Pierre, and at the word “three,” he went quickly forward, missing the trodden path and stepping into the deep snow. He held the pistol in his right hand at arm’s length, apparently5 afraid of shooting himself with it. His left hand he held carefully back, because he wished to support his right hand with it and knew he must not do so. Having advanced six paces and strayed off the track into the snow, Pierre looked down at his feet, then quickly glanced at Dolokhov and, bending his finger as he had been shown, fired. Not at all expecting so loud a report, Pierre shuddered6 at the sound and then, smiling at his own sensations, stood still. The smoke, rendered denser7 by the mist, prevented him from seeing anything for an instant, but there was no second report as he had expected. He only heard Dolokhov’s hurried steps, and his figure came in view through the smoke. He was pressing one hand to his left side, while the other clutched his drooping8 pistol. His face was pale. Rostov ran toward him and said something.
“No-o-o!” muttered Dolokhov through his teeth, “no, it’s not over.” And after stumbling a few staggering steps right up to the saber, he sank on the snow beside it. His left hand was bloody9; he wiped it on his coat and supported himself with it. His frowning face was pallid10 and quivered.
“Plea . . . ” began Dolokhov, but could not at first pronounce the word.
“Please,” he uttered with an effort.
Pierre, hardly restraining his sobs11, began running toward Dolokhov and was about to cross the space between the barriers, when Dolokhov cried:
“To your barrier!” and Pierre, grasping what was meant, stopped by his saber. Only ten paces divided them. Dolokhov lowered his head to the snow, greedily bit at it, again raised his head, adjusted himself, drew in his legs and sat up, seeking a firm center of gravity. He sucked and swallowed the cold snow, his lips quivered but his eyes, still smiling, glittered with effort and exasperation12 as he mustered13 his remaining strength. He raised his pistol and aimed.
“Sideways! Cover yourself with your pistol!” ejaculated Nesvitski.
Pierre, with a gentle smile of pity and remorse15, his arms and legs helplessly spread out, stood with his broad chest directly facing Dolokhov looked sorrowfully at him. Denisov, Rostov, and Nesvitski closed their eyes. At the same instant they heard a report and Dolokhov’s angry cry.
Pierre clutched his temples, and turning round went into the forest, trampling17 through the deep snow, and muttering incoherent words:
Nesvitski stopped him and took him home.
Rostov and Denisov drove away with the wounded Dolokhov.
The latter lay silent in the sleigh with closed eyes and did not answer a word to the questions addressed to him. But on entering Moscow he suddenly came to and, lifting his head with an effort, took Rostov, who was sitting beside him, by the hand. Rostov was struck by the totally altered and unexpectedly rapturous and tender expression on Dolokhov’s face.
“Well? How do you feel?” he asked.
“Bad! But it’s not that, my friend-” said Dolokhov with a gasping20 voice. “Where are we? In Moscow, I know. I don’t matter, but I have killed her, killed . . . She won’t get over it! She won’t survive. . . . ”
“Who?” asked Rostov.
“My mother! My mother, my angel, my adored angel mother,” and Dolokhov pressed Rostov’s hand and burst into tears.
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1
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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2
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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3
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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4
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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5
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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6
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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7
denser
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| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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8
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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9
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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10
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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11
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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12
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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13
mustered
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的过去式和过去分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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14
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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15
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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16
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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17
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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18
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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19
puckering
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的现在分词 )；小褶纹；小褶皱 | |
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20
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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21
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
brawler
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| 争吵者，打架者 | |
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23
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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