A Chameleon／变色龙 1
Vanka／万卡 6
Misery／苦恼 12
Fat and Thin／胖子和瘦子 21
The Trousseau／嫁妆 24
The Death of a Clerk／小职员之死 32
The Lottery Ticket／彩票 36
A Wicked Boy／小坏蛋 43
The Orator／演说家 47
Oysters／牡蛎 52
The Beggar／乞丐 58
A Joke／玩笑 66
A Malefactor／预谋犯 72
Small Fry／小人物 78
The Chorus Girl／歌女 83
The Man in a Case／套中人 91
The Darling／宝贝儿 110
Anna on the Neck／脖子上的安娜 127
The Bet／打赌 145
The Beauties／美女 155
The Lady with the Dog／带小狗的女人 167
Lights／灯火 191
A Happy Ending／美妙的结局 243
Gooseberries／醋栗 250
The Swedish Match／瑞典火柴 265
At a Summer Villa／在夏日别墅里 295
Betrothed／未婚妻 303
內容試閱：
The police superintendent Otchumyelov is walking across the market square wearing a new overcoat and carrying a parcel under his arm. A red-haired policeman strides after him with a sieve full of confiscated gooseberries in his hands. There is silence all around. Not a soul in the square...The open doors of the shops and taverns look out upon Gods world disconsolately, like hungry mouths; there is not even a beggar near them.
So you bite, you damned brute? Otchumyelov hears suddenly. Lads, dont let her go! Biting is prohibited nowadays! Hold her! Ahah!
There is the sound of a dog yelping. Otchumyelov looks in the direction of the sound and sees a dog, hopping on three legs and looking about her, run out of Pitchugins timber-yard. A man in a starched cotton shirt, with his waistcoat unbuttoned, is chasing her. He runs after her, and throwing his body forward falls down and seizes the dog by her hind legs. Once more there is a yelping and a shout of Dont let go! Sleepy countenances are protruded from the shops, and soon a crowd, which seems to have sprung out of the earth, is gathered round the timber-yard.
It looks like a row, your honour... says the policeman.
Otchumyelov makes a half turn to the left and strides towards the crowd. He sees the aforementioned man in the unbuttoned waistcoat standing close by the gate of the timber-yard, holding his right hand in the air and displaying a bleeding finger to the crowd. On his half-drunken face there is plainly written： Ill pay you out, you rogue! and indeed the very finger has the look of a flag of victory. In this man Otchumyelov recognises Hryukin, the goldsmith. The culprit who has caused the sensation, a white borzoi puppy with a sharp muzzle and a yellow patch on her back, is sitting on the ground with her fore-paws outstretched in the middle of the crowd, trembling all over. There is an expression of misery and terror in her tearful eyes.
Whats it all about? Otchumyelov inquires, pushing his way through the crowd. What are you here for? Why are you waving your finger...? Who was it shouted?
I was walking along here, not interfering with anyone, your honour, Hryukin begins, coughing into his fist. I was talking about firewood to Mitry Mitritch, when this low brute for no rhyme or reason bit my finger...You must excuse me, I am a working man...Mine is fine work. I must have damages, for I shant be able to use this finger for a week, may be...Its not even the law, your honour, that one should put up with it from a beast...If everyone is going to be bitten, life wont be worth living...
Hm. Very good, says Otchumyelov sternly, coughing and raising his eyebrows. Very good. Whose dog is it? I wont let this pass! Ill teach them to let their dogs run all over the place! Its time these gentry were looked after, if they wont obey the regulations! When hes fined, the blackguard, Ill teach him what it means to keep dogs and such stray cattle! Ill give him a lesson! ...Yeldyrin, cries the superintendent, addressing the policeman, find out whose dog this is and draw up a report! And the dog must be strangled. Without delay! Its sure to be mad... Whose dog is it, I ask?
I fancy its General Zhigalovs, says someone in the crowd.
General Zhigalovs, hm...Help me off with my coat, Yeldyrin...its frightfully hot! It must be a sign of rain...Theres one thing I cant make out, how it came to bite you? Otchumyelov turns to Hryukin. Surely it couldnt reach your finger. Its a little dog, and you are a great hulking fellow! You must have scratched your finger with a nail, and then the idea struck you to get damages for it. We all know...your sort! I know you devils!
He put a cigarette in her face, your honour, for a joke, and she had the sense to snap at him... He is a nonsensical fellow, your honour!
Thats a lie, Squinteye! You didnt see, so why tell lies about it? His honour is a wise gentleman, and will see who is telling lies and who is telling the truth, as in Gods sight...And if I am lying let the court decide. Its written in the law...We are all equal nowadays. My own brother is in the gendarmes...let me tell you...
Dont argue!
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