第143章 第十九章
第十九章
“你将这些事向聪明通达的人隐藏起来，向婴孩就显明出来。”那天傍晚列文与妻子谈话时，心里便想着这段经文。
列文想到这段经文，并非因为他自认“聪明通达”——他从不这样看自己——但他无法不意识到，自己比妻子和阿加菲娅·米哈伊洛夫娜更有智慧。他更知道，每当他思考死亡时，总是调动全部心智的力量。他也读过许多伟人的思想，他们曾苦苦思索死亡，却不及他妻子和阿加菲娅·米哈伊洛夫娜所知的百分之一。这两个女人截然不同——阿加菲娅·米哈伊洛夫娜和卡佳（他哥哥尼古拉这样叫她，列文如今也格外喜欢这样称呼她）——却在这一点上惊人地相似。她们都毫不怀疑地知道生命是什么、死亡是什么；虽然她们谁也无法回答——甚至无法理解——列文心中浮现的那些问题，但她们对这件事的意义都深信不疑，而且看待它的方式完全一致——这方式与千百万普通人如出一辙。她们确知死亡本质的证据，在于她们能毫不迟疑地知道该如何面对临终之人，且丝毫不感到恐惧。而列文和其他像他一样的男人，虽然可以对死亡高谈阔论，却显然不懂得这些，因为他们惧怕死亡，当有人离世时完全不知所措。倘若此刻只有列文独自守在哥哥尼古拉身边，他只会恐惧地望着他，怀着更大的恐惧等待，却不知该如何是好。
不仅如此，他甚至不知道该说什么，该用怎样的眼神，该怎样动作。谈论身外之事在他看来惊世骇俗、绝无可能；谈论死亡和令人沮丧的话题——同样不可能；沉默——也不可能。“我若看他，他会觉得我在审视他、我害怕；若不看他，他又会以为我在想别的事。若踮着脚走路，他会恼怒；若踏踏实实地走，我又感到羞愧。”而基蒂显然没有考虑自己，也无暇顾及自己：她在想他，因为她知道些什么，于是事事都做得妥帖。她甚至谈起自己的事，说起自己的婚礼，微笑着，同情他，安抚他，讲起康复的病例——一切都那么自然；所以她必定知道些什么。证明她和阿加菲娅·米哈伊洛夫娜的行为并非出于本能、动物性的、非理性的，在于：除了身体上的照料、缓解痛苦之外，阿加菲娅·米哈伊洛夫娜和基蒂还为临终之人要求某种比身体照料更重要、与身体状况毫不相干的东西。阿加菲娅·米哈伊洛夫娜谈起刚去世的人时说：“谢天谢地，他领了圣餐，受了赦罪；愿上帝赐我们每个人这样的死亡。”卡佳也是如此，除了照料床单、褥疮、饮水之外，第一天就设法说服病人接受临终涂油礼和赦罪。
晚上从病房回到他们自己那两间屋子时，列文垂头坐着，不知该做什么。别说吃晚饭、准备就寝、商量明天的安排，他甚至无法与妻子交谈——他感到羞愧。相反，基蒂比平时更活跃。她甚至比平常更欢快。她吩咐摆上晚餐，亲自解开行李，亲手铺床，甚至没忘记往床上洒波斯香粉。她展现出一种警觉，一种思绪的敏捷——这种特质会在战斗前、冲突中、在人生危险而决定性的时刻显现出来——这些时刻，一个人会彻底展现自身的价值，证明他过去的一切并非虚度，而正是为了此刻而准备。
一切在她手中都飞快地进行着，不到十二点，她房间里的物品便已收拾得干净整洁，仿佛这旅馆的房间成了家：床铺好了，刷子、梳子、镜子摆放整齐，餐巾也铺好了。
列文觉得现在吃饭、睡觉、甚至说话都是不可饶恕的，似乎他每个动作都不合时宜。而她整理梳子时，却做得如此自然，毫无不妥之处。
然而两人都吃不下东西，久久无法入睡，甚至没有上床。
“真高兴我说服他明天接受临终涂油礼，”她说道，穿着睡衣坐在折叠镜前，用细梳梳理着柔软芬芳的头发。“我从没见过，但妈妈告诉过我，有祈祷康复的经文。”
“你认为他还有可能康复吗？”列文问，望着她圆圆小脑后的那缕纤细发辫——当她把梳子从前面梳过去时，它便不断被遮住。
“我问过医生，他说他活不过三天。可他们能确定吗？不管怎样，我很高兴说服了他，”她说着，透过发丝斜眼望着丈夫。“一切皆有可能，”她补充道，脸上带着那种谈起宗教时特有的狡黠神情。
自从订婚时关于宗教的那次谈话后，两人再也没有讨论过这个话题，但她始终履行着上教堂、祷告等所有仪式，带着一种坚定不移的信念：理应如此。尽管他持相反意见，她仍坚信他和她一样是个基督徒，甚至比她更好；他对此所说的一切，不过是男人那些荒谬的怪念头——就像他评论她的英式刺绣，说好人补漏洞，她却故意剪出窟窿之类。
“你看，那个女人玛丽亚·尼古拉耶夫娜根本不懂得处理这些，”列文说。“而且……我必须承认，你来了我真是非常非常高兴。你是如此纯洁……”他握住她的手，没有亲吻（在离死亡如此之近的地方亲吻她的手，他觉得不妥）；他只是带着忏悔的神情握了握，望着她闪亮的眼睛。
“你若独自一人，那会多么痛苦，”她说，抬起捂住因喜悦而泛红的脸颊的双手，将发髻盘在颈后，别好。“不，”她继续说，“她不知道怎么办……幸好我在索登学了不少。”
“难道那边有那么多重病人？”
“还有更重的。”
“最让我难受的是，我无法再看到他年轻时的样子。你不会相信他年轻时多么迷人，可那时我并不理解他。”
“我完全可以相信。我多么觉得我们本该成为朋友！”她说；随即因自己说了这话而感到不安，她回头看了看丈夫，泪水涌上眼眶。
“是的，本该成为朋友，”他忧伤地说。“他正是人们说的那种‘不属于这个世界’的人。”
“但我们还有不少日子要过，得睡觉了，”基蒂说着，瞥了一眼她的小表。
“Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast
revealed them unto babes.” So Levin thought about his wife as he talked
to her that evening.
Levin thought of the text, not because he considered himself “wise and
prudent.” He did not so consider himself, but he could not help knowing
that he had more intellect than his wife and Agafea Mihalovna, and he
could not help knowing that when he thought of death, he thought with
all the force of his intellect. He knew too that the brains of many
great men, whose thoughts he had read, had brooded over death and yet
knew not a hundredth part of what his wife and Agafea Mihalovna knew
about it. Different as those two women were, Agafea Mihalovna and
Katya, as his brother Nikolay had called her, and as Levin particularly
liked to call her now, they were quite alike in this. Both knew,
without a shade of doubt, what sort of thing life was and what was
death, and though neither of them could have answered, and would even
not have understood the questions that presented themselves to Levin,
both had no doubt of the significance of this event, and were precisely
alike in their way of looking at it, which they shared with millions of
people. The proof that they knew for a certainty the nature of death
lay in the fact that they knew without a second of hesitation how to
deal with the dying, and were not frightened of them. Levin and other
men like him, though they could have said a great deal about death,
obviously did not know this since they were afraid of death, and were
absolutely at a loss what to do when people were dying. If Levin had
been alone now with his brother Nikolay, he would have looked at him
with terror, and with still greater terror waited, and would not have
known what else to do.
More than that, he did not know what to say, how to look, how to move.
To talk of outside things seemed to him shocking, impossible, to talk
of death and depressing subjects—also impossible. To be silent, also
impossible. “If I look at him he will think I am studying him, I am
afraid; if I don’t look at him, he’ll think I’m thinking of other
things. If I walk on tiptoe, he will be vexed; to tread firmly, I’m
ashamed.” Kitty evidently did not think of herself, and had no time to
think about herself: she was thinking about him because she knew
something, and all went well. She told him about herself even and about
her wedding, and smiled and sympathized with him and petted him, and
talked of cases of recovery and all went well; so then she must know.
The proof that her behavior and Agafea Mihalovna’s was not instinctive,
animal, irrational, was that apart from the physical treatment, the
relief of suffering, both Agafea Mihalovna and Kitty required for the
dying man something else more important than the physical treatment,
and something which had nothing in common with physical conditions.
Agafea Mihalovna, speaking of the man just dead, had said: “Well, thank
God, he took the sacrament and received absolution; God grant each one
of us such a death.” Katya in just the same way, besides all her care
about linen, bedsores, drink, found time the very first day to persuade
the sick man of the necessity of taking the sacrament and receiving
absolution.
On getting back from the sick-room to their own two rooms for the
night, Levin sat with hanging head not knowing what to do. Not to speak
of supper, of preparing for bed, of considering what they were going to
do, he could not even talk to his wife; he was ashamed to. Kitty, on
the contrary, was more active than usual. She was even livelier than
usual. She ordered supper to be brought, herself unpacked their things,
and herself helped to make the beds, and did not even forget to
sprinkle them with Persian powder. She showed that alertness, that
swiftness of reflection which comes out in men before a battle, in
conflict, in the dangerous and decisive moments of life—those moments
when a man shows once and for all his value, and that all his past has
not been wasted but has been a preparation for these moments.
Everything went rapidly in her hands, and before it was twelve o’clock
all their things were arranged cleanly and tidily in her rooms, in such
a way that the hotel rooms seemed like home: the beds were made,
brushes, combs, looking-glasses were put out, table napkins were
spread.
Levin felt that it was unpardonable to eat, to sleep, to talk even now,
and it seemed to him that every movement he made was unseemly. She
arranged the brushes, but she did it all so that there was nothing
shocking in it.
They could neither of them eat, however, and for a long while they
could not sleep, and did not even go to bed.
“I am very glad I persuaded him to receive extreme unction tomorrow,”
she said, sitting in her dressing jacket before her folding
looking-glass, combing her soft, fragrant hair with a fine comb. “I
have never seen it, but I know, mamma has told me, there are prayers
said for recovery.”
“Do you suppose he can possibly recover?” said Levin, watching a
slender tress at the back of her round little head that was continually
hidden when she passed the comb through the front.
“I asked the doctor; he said he couldn’t live more than three days. But
can they be sure? I’m very glad, anyway, that I persuaded him,” she
said, looking askance at her husband through her hair. “Anything is
possible,” she added with that peculiar, rather sly expression that was
always in her face when she spoke of religion.
Since their conversation about religion when they were engaged neither
of them had ever started a discussion of the subject, but she performed
all the ceremonies of going to church, saying her prayers, and so on,
always with the unvarying conviction that this ought to be so. In spite
of his assertion to the contrary, she was firmly persuaded that he was
as much a Christian as she, and indeed a far better one; and all that
he said about it was simply one of his absurd masculine freaks, just as
he would say about her _broderie anglaise_ that good people patch
holes, but that she cut them on purpose, and so on.
“Yes, you see this woman, Marya Nikolaevna, did not know how to manage
all this,” said Levin. “And ... I must own I’m very, very glad you
came. You are such purity that....” He took her hand and did not kiss
it (to kiss her hand in such closeness to death seemed to him
improper); he merely squeezed it with a penitent air, looking at her
brightening eyes.
“It would have been miserable for you to be alone,” she said, and
lifting her hands which hid her cheeks flushing with pleasure, twisted
her coil of hair on the nape of her neck and pinned it there. “No,” she
went on, “she did not know how.... Luckily, I learned a lot at Soden.”
“Surely there are not people there so ill?”
“Worse.”
“What’s so awful to me is that I can’t see him as he was when he was
young. You would not believe how charming he was as a youth, but I did
not understand him then.”
“I can quite, quite believe it. How I feel that we might have been
friends!” she said; and, distressed at what she had said, she looked
round at her husband, and tears came into her eyes.
“Yes, _might have been_,” he said mournfully. “He’s just one of those
people of whom they say they’re not for this world.”
“But we have many days before us; we must go to bed,” said Kitty,
glancing at her tiny watch.
