第2章 A Chameleon 变色龙

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 God's world disconsolately, like hungry mouths; there is not even a beggar near them.

“So you bite, you damned brute?” Otchumyelov hears suddenly. “Lads, don't let her go! Biting is prohibited nowadays! Hold her! Ah…ah!”

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 Pitchugin's 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 “Don't 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: “I'll 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.

“What's 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 shan't be able to use this finger for a week, may be...It's not even the law, your honour, that one should put up with it from a beast...If everyone is going to be bitten, life won't be worth living...”

“H'm. Very good,” says Otchumyelov sternly, coughing and raising his eyebrows. “Very good. Whose dog is it? I won't let this pass! I'll teach them to let their dogs run all over the place! It's time these gentry were looked after, if they won't obey the regulations! When he's fined, the blackguard, I'll teach him what it means to keep dogs and such stray cattle! I'll 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! It's sure to be mad... Whose dog is it, I ask?”

“I fancy it's General Zhigalov's,” says someone in the crowd.

“General Zhigalov's, h'm...Help me off with my coat, Yeldyrin...it's frightfully hot! It must be a sign of rain...There's one thing I can't make out, how it came to bite you?” Otchumyelov turns to Hryukin. “Surely it couldn't reach your finger. It's 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!”

“That's a lie, Squinteye! You didn't 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 God's sight...And if I am lying let the court decide. It's written in the law...We are all equal nowadays. My own brother is in the gendarmes...let me tell you...”

“Don't argue!”

“No, that's not the General's dog,” says the policeman, with profound conviction, “the General hasn't got one like that. His are mostly setters.”

“Do you know that for a fact?”

“Yes, your honour.”

“I know it, too. The General has valuable dogs, thoroughbred, and this is goodness knows what! No coat, no shape...A low creature. And to keep a dog like that! ...where's the sense of it? If a dog like that were to turn up in Petersburg or Moscow, do you know what would happen? They would not worry about the law, they would strangle it in a twinkling! You've been injured, Hryukin, and we can't let the matter drop...We must give them a lesson! It is high time...!”

“Yet maybe it is the General's,” says the policeman, thinking aloud. “It's not written on its face... I saw one like it the other day in his yard.”

“It is the General's, that's certain!” says a voice in the crowd.

“H'm, help me on with my overcoat, Yeldyrin, my lad…the wind's getting up...I am cold...You take it to the General's, and inquire there. Say I found it and sent it. And tell them not to let it out into the street...It may be a valuable dog, and if every swine goes sticking a cigar in its mouth, it will soon be ruined. A dog is a delicate animal...And you put your hand down, you blockhead. It's no use your displaying your fool of a finger. It's your own fault...”

“Here comes the General's cook, ask him...Hi, Prohor! Come here, my dear man! Look at this dog...Is it one of yours?”

“What an idea! We have never had one like that!”

“There's no need to waste time asking,” says Otchumyelov. “It's a stray dog! There's no need to waste time talking about it...Since he says it's a stray dog, a stray dog it is...It must be destroyed, that's all about it.”

“It is not our dog,” Prohor goes on. “It belongs to the General's brother, who arrived the other day. Our master does not care for hounds. But his honour is fond of them...”

“You don't say his Excellency's brother is here? Vladimir Ivanitch?” inquires Otchumyelov, and his whole face beams with an ecstatic smile. “Well, I never! And I didn't know! Has he come on a visit?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I never...He couldn't stay away from his brother...And there I didn't know! So this is his honour's dog? Delighted to hear it...Take it. It's not a bad pup...A lively creature...Snapped at this fellow's finger! Ha-ha-ha...Come, why are you shivering? Rrr...Rrrr...The rogue's angry...a nice little pup.”

Prohor calls the dog, and walks away from the timber-yard with her. The crowd laughs at Hryukin.

“I'll make you smart yet!” Otchumyelov threatens him, and wrapping himself in his greatcoat, goes on his way across the square.

警官奥楚梅洛夫穿着新大衣，腋下夹着一只小包，正穿过集市广场。一名红发警察大步走在他身后，两手端着一只筛子，里面放满了没收的醋栗。周围一片寂静，广场上没有一个人……商店和酒馆敞开的门，神情愁闷地面对着上帝创造的这个世界，就像一张张饥饿的嘴；附近连一个乞丐都没有。

“原来你敢咬人，你这该死的畜生！”奥楚梅洛夫突然听到有人喊。“小伙子们，别放它走！现在严禁咬人！抓住它！啊……啊！”

这时传来一只狗的叫声。奥楚梅洛夫循声望去，只见一只狗一边三条腿跳着从皮楚京的木料场跑出来，一边四下张望着，一个身穿浆硬棉布衬衣、没扣马甲的人正在追它。他紧追其后，纵身向前扑倒，抓住了那只狗的两条后腿。狗叫声和“别放开！”的喊声再次传来。一张张睡眼惺忪的面孔纷纷从店铺里伸出来，木料场四周很快就围了一群人，这群人像是从地下冒出来似的。

“看样子出了乱子，长官……”警察说。

奥楚梅洛夫向左半转过身，朝人群大步走去。他看到上面提到的那个没扣马甲的人站在木料场门口，右手举在空中，给人群看他的一根血淋淋的手指。他那张半醉的脸上明显露出：“我要报复你，你这杂种！”那根手指头看起来就像一面胜利的旗帜。奥楚梅洛夫认出这个人是金匠赫留金。引起这场轰动的罪魁祸首是一只白色小狼犬，只见它尖嘴巴，背上有一块黄色斑点，卧在人群中央的地上，前爪伸展，浑身发抖，泪汪汪的眼睛里露出痛苦和恐惧的神情。

“到底是怎么回事？”奥楚梅洛夫挤过人群问道。“你在这里干什么？你为什么晃手指……？刚才是谁嚷嚷的？”

“长官，我刚才正在这里走，没有妨碍任何人，”赫留金一边嘴抵拳头咳嗽，一边开口说道。“我跟米特里·米里利奇正谈木材的事儿，这时这个该死的畜生无缘无故咬了我的手指……你一定要原谅我，我是个干活的人……我的活儿精细。我必须要赔偿金，因为我一礼拜都不能动用这根手指，也许……长官，就连法律也没有规定，人应该对畜生忍气吞声……要是人人都被狗咬，生活就不值得过了……”

“嗯。很好，”奥楚梅洛夫一边咳嗽扬眉，一边严肃地说，“很好。这是谁家的狗？我不会就这么放过他们！我要教训他们，放狗到处乱跑！该管管这些贵族了，只要他们不遵守法规！等这个混蛋一被罚款，我就教训他：放养狗等流浪家畜意味着什么！我一定要教训他！……叶尔特林，”警官对警察喊道，“去查查这是谁家的狗，拟个报告！这条狗必须勒死。赶快！这肯定是一条疯狗。……我问，这是谁家的狗？”

“我看这是日加洛夫将军家的！”人群里有个人说道。

“日加洛夫将军家的，嗯……帮我把外套脱下来，叶尔特林……天真热！一定是快要下雨了……有一件事我搞不明白，它怎么会咬你呢？”奥楚梅洛夫转向赫留金。“它肯定够不到你的手指。它是小狗，你却人高马大！一定是你让钉子划破了手指，就突然想起了这个主意，想因此获得一笔赔偿金。我们全都了解……你这种人！我了解你们这些恶棍！”

“长官，是他把烟按到它的脸上寻开心；它有辨别力，就咬了他一口……他是个无聊的人，长官！”

“这是撒谎，斜眼！你看不见，为什么撒谎？长官是聪明人，一定会看出谁在撒谎、谁在说实话，就像当着上帝的面……要是我撒谎，就让法院判决好了。法律上写有……我们现在人人平等。我的亲弟弟在宪兵队……我告诉你……”

“别吵了！”

“不，这不是将军家的狗，”那名警察深信不疑地说。“将军没有这种狗。他家的狗大多是塞特种猎狗。”

“你确定？”

“是的，长官。”

“这我也知道。将军养的都是名贵的纯种狗，谁知道这是什么东西！要毛没毛，要样没样……一个下等货。养这种狗！……辨别力到哪里去了？这种狗要是出现在彼得堡或莫斯科，你们知道会发生什么？他们才不会考虑什么法律，转眼就会勒死它！赫留金，你受了伤，我们不能就这样完事……我们一定要教训他们！该是时候了……!”

“不过，说不定它就是将军家的，”那名警察一边想，一边说道。“它的脸上又没写……前几天我在将军家的院子里就见过这样一条狗。”

“毫无疑问，它就是将军家的！”人群中一个声音说道。

“嗯，帮我穿上外套，叶尔特林，我的小伙子……起风了……我很冷……你带它到将军家去，到那里问一下。就说是我发现后送去的。告诉他们别再把它放到街上来……它说不定是一条名贵狗，要是每个下流胚都拿雪茄烟戳到它的嘴里，它马上就毁掉了。狗是娇气的动物……你把手放下来，你这笨蛋！别再让你那根蠢手指出洋相了。这是你自己的错……”

“将军家的厨师来了，问问他……喂，普罗霍尔！过来，亲爱的！看看这条狗……是你们家的吗？”

“什么话！我们从来没有这样的狗！”

“不必浪费时间问了，”奥楚梅洛夫说。“这是一条流浪狗！不必浪费时间讨论它了……既然他说这是流浪狗，那就是流浪狗……务必灭了它，就这样。”

“这不是我们的狗，”普罗霍尔继续说道。“这是将军哥哥的狗，将军的哥哥是前几天到的。我们的主人不喜欢猎犬。不过，他的哥哥喜欢……”

“莫非将军老爷的哥哥来了？弗拉基米尔·伊凡内奇？”奥楚梅洛夫问，满脸洋溢出异常欣喜的微笑。“噢，我从不知道！我竟不知道！他是来做客的吧？”

“是的。”

“噢，我从不知道……他不可能不上他兄弟这里来……我竟然还不知道！这么说，这是他老人家的狗？很高兴听到这件事……把它带去吧。这是一条不错的小狗……一只活泼的家伙……咬了这家伙的手指一口！哈哈哈……嗨，你干嘛发抖？呜呜……呜呜……小淘气生气了……一条漂亮的小狗……”

普罗霍尔把狗叫过来，带着它离开了木料场……那群人都嘲笑赫留金。

“回头再收拾你！”奥楚梅洛夫威胁他说，说完裹紧大衣，穿过广场，走了。