列車長斯特奇金有一天不當班，在他家里坐著柳博芙·格里戈里耶夫娜，一個四十歲上下、相貌端庄、身体壯實的女人。她專事說媒，另外還干許多通常只能背地里悄悄說的事情。斯特奇金不免有點尷尬，不過像平時一樣嚴肅，認真，穩重。他在房間里踱來踱去，抽著雪茄，說：
“認識您非常愉快。謝苗·伊凡諾維奇向我推荐您，他認為，在一件非常微妙的事情上您將對我有所幫助。這件事至關重要，關系到我一生的幸福。我 吧，柳博芙·格里戈里耶夫娜，已經五十二歲了，也就是說，在我這樣的年齡，本該子女成群了。我的職業是穩定的。財產雖說不多，但要養活心愛的女人和孩子們 完全不成問題。我私下里告訴您，除了薪水，我在銀行里還有存款，這些錢是按我的生活方式節省下來的。我為人正派，滴酒不沾，過著嚴謹而合理的生活，可以這 么說，在這方面我能做許多人的表率。可是話又說回來，我還是有所欠缺--沒有家庭的溫暖，沒有生活的伴侶，我像個到處漂泊的匈牙利人，居無定所，沒有任何 娛樂，沒有人可以商量，一旦生病，連個端水的人都沒有，等等，等等。除此之外，柳博芙·格里戈里耶夫娜，在社會上成家的人往往比單身漢更有威信……我這人 受過教育，又有錢，可是如果從某种觀點來看我，我又算個什么人？一個孤苦伶仃的人，跟某個出家人沒什么兩樣。因此，我十分希望徐門１能來牽線--也就是 說，跟一位般配的女士締結合法婚姻。”
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１許門，希腊神話中的婚姻之神。他讀錯了。
“這是好事！”媒婆噓了一口气。
“我孤身一人，在這個城市里誰也不認識。既然我不認識任何人，叫我上哪儿，找誰去呀？正因為這樣，謝苗·伊凡諾維奇才勸我找一個這方面的行 家，她的職業就是促成人們的幸福。所以我才万分懇切地請求您，柳博芙·格里戈里耶夫娜，請您大力幫助，安排好我的命運。城里的未婚小姐您都認識，您要促成 我的好事是不難的。”
“這不成問題……”
“請喝呀，別客气……”
媒婆老練地把酒杯送到嘴邊，一飲而盡，連眉頭都不皺一下。
“這不成問題，”她又說，“那么您，尼古拉·尼古拉伊奇，想找個什么樣的新娘呢？”
“我嗎？那就隨緣吧。”
“講到緣分，當然也對。不過，各人有各人的口味。有人喜歡黑頭發的，有人卻喜歡金發女郎。”
“您知道嗎，柳博芙·格里戈里耶夫娜，”斯特奇金庄重地歎息道，“我為人正派，性格剛強。美貌以及一般的外表在我看來是次要的，因為，您也知 道，臉蛋不能當水喝，娶個漂亮老婆要操心的事大多。我這么認為：一個女人重要的不在于外表，而在于內里，也就是說，她要心地善良，各方面的品性都好。請喝 呀，別客气……不用說，如果老婆長得富態，看著當然舒服，不過，這對雙方的幸福并不重要，重要的是智慧。可是老實說吧，其實女人也用不著智慧，因為有了智 慧她就會自命不凡，就會想入非非。如今這年頭不受教育是不行的，這不用說，可是教育也是各种各樣的。如果老婆能說一口流利的法語或德語，甚至精通各國語 言，那當然好，甚至好极了；可是如果她給你，比如說吧，連個扣子都不會釘，那么能說外語管什么用？我這人受過教育，即使跟卡尼杰林公爵我照樣能說得頭頭是 道，就像現在跟您說話一樣。我需要朴實一點的女人。最主要的是，她得敬重我，她得明白，是我給了她幸福。”
“那當然。”
“好吧，現在來談談名詞１問題……富貴人家的千金我不要。我不能作踐自己，居然為了金錢去結婚，我希望我不至于吃女人的面包，而是要她吃我的 面包，還要讓她心里明白這一點。可是窮苦人家的姑娘我也不能要。我這人雖說有點錢財，雖說我結婚不是出于貪財，而是出于愛情，但是，我也不能娶個窮女人， 因為，您也知道，現在物价昂貴，再說日后還要生儿育女。”
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１俄語中“名詞”与“實際”諧音，他讀錯了。
“可以找個有陪嫁的，”媒婆說。
“請喝呀，別客气……”
兩人沉默了五分鐘。媒婆歎一口气，瞟了列車長一眼，問道：
“那么，老爺，那种……單身女人您不能要吧？有好貨哩。有個法國女人，還有個希腊女人。都挺搶手的。”
列車長考慮一下，說：
“不，謝謝您。承您好心關照，我心領了。現在容我問一下：您給人張羅一個新娘要收多少錢？”
“要得不多。您按老規矩給個二十五盧布外加一件衣料，我就多謝了……至于找有陪嫁的女人，那就是另一個价碼了。”
斯特奇金在胸前交叉抱著胳膊，開始沉思起來。他想了一會儿，歎口气說：
“這价太貴了……”
“一點儿也不算貴，尼古拉·尼古拉伊奇！從前吧，做成的婚事多，收費也就便宜些，如今這年頭，我們能掙几個錢呀？要是在不持齋的月份１，能掙上兩張二十五盧布，那就得謝天謝地了，老實告訴您，老爺，光靠說媒我們是發不了財的。”
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１按東正教習俗，在持齋的月份不舉行婚禮。
斯特奇金疑惑不解地望著媒婆，聳聳肩膀。
“哼！難道五十盧布還少嗎？”他問。
“自然少啦！以前我經常拿一百多呢。”
“哼！真沒想到，干那种事居然能掙大錢。五十盧布！那可不是每個男人都能掙到這個數目的！請喝呀，別客气……”
媒婆又干一杯，眉頭不皺一下。斯特奇金默默地把她從頭到腳打量一番，說：
“五十盧布……這么說，一年就是六百哪……請喝呀，別客气……有這么多紅梨２，您可知道，柳博芙·格里戈里耶夫娜，您給自己找個新郎，也不難呀……”
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２應為“紅利”，他讀錯了。
“我嗎？”媒婆笑了，“我老啦……”
“一點儿也不……您的身段那么好，臉蛋又白又胖，其余的，也不錯。”
媒婆不好意思了。斯特奇金也不好意思了，他挨著她坐下。
“您還挺討人喜歡的，”他說，“要是您再找一個作風正派，又能省吃儉用的當家人，那么有他的薪水，再加上您的收入，您就更討人喜歡了，兩口子會相親相愛過日子……”
“天知道您在說什么，尼古拉·尼古拉伊奇……”
“說說又何妨？我沒有惡意……”
一陣沉默。斯特奇金開始大聲擦鼻涕，媒婆則滿臉通紅，羞答答地望著他，問：
“那么您，尼古拉·尼古拉伊奇，一月有多少收入呢？”
“我嗎？七十五盧布，不算獎金……另外，我們在硬脂蜡燭１和兔子２上也有些進帳。”
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１指查抄點火車上的蜡燭。
２指向逃票乘客索要錢物。
“您打獵嗎？”
“不，我們管逃票乘客叫兔子。”
在沉默中又過了一分鐘。斯特奇金站了起來，開始激動地在房間里走來走去。
“我不找年輕姑娘，”他說，“我是上了年紀的人，我需要那种……像您那樣……中年以上、做事穩重、有您那种身段的女人……”
“天知道您在說什么……”媒婆吃吃笑起來，用手絹遮著漲紅的臉。
“這有什么好考慮的？我覺得您的那些品性正合我的心意。我這人作風正派，滴酒不沾，如果您也中意，那……那就最好不過了！請允許我向您求婚！”
媒婆激動得掉下了眼淚，隨即又吃吃笑起來。為了表示同意，她立即跟斯特奇金碰杯。
“好了，”喜气洋洋的列車長說，“現在容我來向您說明，我希望您怎樣待人接物，怎樣持家過日子……我這人向來嚴肅、認真、穩重，對人對事光明磊落，我希望我的妻子也跟我一樣要求嚴格，她要明白，我是她的恩人，是她一生中最重要的人。”
他坐下，深深地歎了一口气，開始向未來的新娘闡述他對家庭生活、對妻子責任等等的觀點。
一八八七年七月二十五日
LYUBOV GRIGORYEVNA, a substantial, buxom lady of forty who undertook matchmaking and many other matters of which it is usual to speak only in whispers, had come to see Stytchkin, the head guard, on a day when he was off duty. Stytchkin, somewhat embarrassed, but, as always, grave, practical, and severe, was walking up and down the room, smoking a cigar and saying: "Very pleased to make your acquaintance. Semyon Ivanovitch recommended you on the ground that you may be able to assist me in a delicate and very important matter affecting the happiness of my life. I have, Lyubov Grigoryevna, reached the age of fifty-two; that is a period of life at which very many have already grown-up children. My position is a secure one. Though my fortune is not large, yet I am in a position to support a beloved being and children at my side. I may tell you between ourselves that apart from my salary I have also money in the bank which my manner of living has enabled me to save. I am a practical and sober man, I lead a sensible and consistent life, so that I may hold myself up as an example to many. But one thing I lack--a domestic hearth of my own and a partner in life, and I live like a wandering Magyar, moving from place to place without any satisfaction. I have no one with whom to take counsel, and when I am ill no one to give me water, and so on. Apart from that, Lyubov Grigoryevna, a married man has always more weight in society than a bachelor. . . . I am a man of the educated class, with money, but if you look at me from a point of view, what am I? A man with no kith and kin, no better than some Polish priest. And therefore I should be very desirous to be united in the bonds of Hymen--that is, to enter into matrimony with some worthy person." "An excellent thing," said the matchmaker, with a sigh. "I am a solitary man and in this town I know no one. Where can I go, and to whom can I apply, since all the people here are strangers to me? That is why Semyon Ivanovitch advised me to address myself to a person who is a specialist in this line, and makes the arrangement of the happiness of others her profession. And therefore I most earnestly beg you, Lyubov Grigoryevna, to assist me in ordering my future. You know all the marriageable young ladies in the town, and it is easy for you to accommodate me." "I can. . . ." "A glass of wine, I beg you. . . ." With an habitual gesture the matchmaker raised her glass to her mouth and tossed it off without winking. "I can," she repeated. "And what sort of bride would you like, Nikolay Nikolayitch?" "Should I like? The bride fate sends me." "Well, of course it depends on your fate, but everyone has his own taste, you know. One likes dark ladies, the other prefers fair ones." "You see, Lyubov Grigoryevna," said Stytchkin, sighing sedately, "I am a practical man and a man of character; for me beauty and external appearance generally take a secondary place, for, as you know yourself, beauty is neither bowl nor platter, and a pretty wife involves a great deal of anxiety. The way I look at it is, what matters most in a woman is not what is external, but what lies within--that is, that she should have soul and all the qualities. A glass of wine, I beg. . . . Of course, it would be very agreeable that one's wife should be rather plump, but for mutual happiness it is not of great consequence; what matters is the mind. Properly speaking, a woman does not need mind either, for if she has brains she will have too high an opinion of herself, and take all sorts of ideas into her head. One cannot do without education nowadays, of course, but education is of different kinds. It would be pleasing for one's wife to know French and German, to speak various languages, very pleasing; but what's the use of that if she can't sew on one's buttons, perhaps? I am a man of the educated class: I am just as much at home, I may say, with Prince Kanitelin as I am with you here now. But my habits are simple, and I want a girl who is not too much a fine lady. Above all, she must have respect for me and feel that I have made her happiness." "To be sure." "Well, now as regards the essential. . . . I do not want a wealthy bride; I would never condescend to anything so low as to marry for money. I desire not to be kept by my wife, but to keep her, and that she may be sensible of it. But I do not want a poor girl either. Though I am a man of means, and am marrying not from mercenary motives, but from love, yet I cannot take a poor girl, for, as you know yourself, prices have gone up so, and there will be children." "One might find one with a dowry," said the matchmaker. "A glass of wine, I beg. . . ." There was a pause of five minutes. The matchmaker heaved a sigh, took a sidelong glance at the guard, and asked: "Well, now, my good sir . . . do you want anything in the bachelor line? I have some fine bargains. One is a French girl and one is a Greek. Well worth the money." The guard thought a moment and said: "No, I thank you. In view of your favourable disposition, allow me to enquire now how much you ask for your exertions in regard to a bride?" "I don't ask much. Give me twenty-five roubles and the stuff for a dress, as is usual, and I will say thank you . . . but for the dowry, that's a different account." Stytchkin folded his arms over his chest and fell to pondering in silence. After some thought he heaved a sigh and said: "That's dear. . . ." "It's not at all dear, Nikolay Nikolayitch! In old days when there were lots of weddings one did do it cheaper, but nowadays what are our earnings? If you make fifty roubles in a month that is not a fast, you may be thankful. It's not on weddings we make our money, my good sir." Stytchkin looked at the matchmaker in amazement and shrugged his shoulders. "H'm! . . . Do you call fifty roubles little?" he asked. "Of course it is little! In old days we sometimes made more than a hundred." "H'm! I should never have thought it was possible to earn such a sum by these jobs. Fifty roubles! It is not every man that earns as much! Pray drink your wine. . . ." The matchmaker drained her glass without winking. Stytchkin looked her over from head to foot in silence, then said: "Fifty roubles. . . . Why, that is six hundred roubles a year. . . . Please take some more. . . With such dividends, you know, Lyubov Grigoryevna, you would have no difficulty in making a match for yourself. . . ." "For myself," laughed the matchmaker, "I am an old woman." "Not at all. . . . You have such a figure, and your face is plump and fair, and all the rest of it." The matchmaker was embarrassed. Stytchkin was also embarrassed and sat down beside her. "You are still very attractive," said he; "if you met with a practical, steady, careful husband, with his salary and your earnings you might even attract him very much, and you'd get on very well together. . . ." "Goodness knows what you are saying, Nikolay Nikolayitch." "Well, I meant no harm. . . ." A silence followed. Stytchkin began loudly blowing his nose, while the matchmaker turned crimson, and looking bashfully at him, asked: "And how much do you get, Nikolay Nikolayitch?" "I? Seventy-five roubles, besides tips. . . . Apart from that we make something out of candles and hares." "You go hunting, then?" "No. Passengers who travel without tickets are called hares with us." Another minute passed in silence. Stytchkin got up and walked about the room in excitement. "I don't want a young wife," said he. "I am a middle-aged man, and I want someone who . . . as it might be like you . . . staid and settled and a figure something like yours. . . ." "Goodness knows what you are saying . . ." giggled the matchmaker, hiding her crimson face in her kerchief. "There is no need to be long thinking about it. You are after my own heart, and you suit me in your qualities. I am a practical, sober man, and if you like me . . . what could be better? Allow me to make you a proposal!" The matchmaker dropped a tear, laughed, and, in token of her consent, clinked glasses with Stytchkin. "Well," said the happy railway guard, "now allow me to explain to you the behaviour and manner of life I desire from you. . . . I am a strict, respectable, practical man. I take a gentlemanly view of everything. And I desire that my wife should be strict also, and should understand that to her I am a benefactor and the foremost person in the world." He sat down, and, heaving a deep sigh, began expounding to his bride-elect his views on domestic life and a wife's duties. [The end]
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