SHTCHIPTSOV, the “heavy father” and “good-hearted simpleton,” a tall and thick-set old man, not so much distinguished by his talents as an actor as by his exceptional physical strength, had a desperate quarrel with the manager during the performance, and just when the storm of words was at its height felt as though something had snapped in his chest. —-
希普乔夫，“沉重的父亲”和“善良的傻瓜”，一个高大健壮的老人，他并不以演员才能著称，而是以他异常的体力而闻名，他在演出期间与经理发生了严重的争吵，正当争吵到达最高点时，他感觉自己的胸口好像有什么断裂了。 —-

Zhukov, the manager, as a rule began at the end of every heated discussion to laugh hysterically and to fall into a swoon; —-
经理朱科夫通常在每次激烈讨论的最后开始歇斯底里地笑，然后昏倒过去； —-

on this occasion, however, Shtchiptsov did not remain for this climax, but hurried home. —-
然而，这一次，希普乔夫并没有等待这个高潮，而是匆忙回家了。 —-

The high words and the sensation of something ruptured in his chest so agitated him as he left the theatre that he forgot to wash off his paint, and did nothing but take off his beard.
在离开剧院时，那种高张的情绪和感到胸口有什么断裂的感觉使他如此不安，以至于他忘记了洗掉他的脸上的化妆品，只是摘下了假胡子。

When he reached his hotel room, Shtchiptsov spent a long time pacing up and down, then sat down on the bed, propped his head on his fists, and sank into thought. —-
当他到达酒店房间时，希普乔夫走来走去很长时间，然后坐在床上，用手肘撑着头陷入沉思。 —-

He sat like that without stirring or uttering a sound till two o’clock the next afternoon, when Sigaev, the comic man, walked into his room.
他一动不动地坐着，没有发出任何声音，直到第二天下午两点钟，喜剧演员西盖夫走进他的房间。

“Why is it you did not come to the rehearsal, Booby Ivanitch? —-
“你为什么没有来排练，布比·伊万尼奇？ —-

” the comic man began, panting and filling the room with fumes of vodka. —-
”喜剧演员喘着气，满屋子都弥漫着伏特加酒精味。 —-

“Where have you been?”
“你去哪儿了？”

Shtchiptsov made no answer, but simply stared at the comic man with lustreless eyes, under which there were smudges of paint.
希普乔夫没有回答，只是用无神的眼睛凝视着喜剧演员，在他的眼睛下面有些化妆的痕迹。

“You might at least have washed your phiz!” Sigaev went on. “You are a disgraceful sight! —-
“你至少可以洗洗你的崴脸！”西盖夫继续说道，“你真是糟糕透顶！ —-

Have you been boozing, or . . . are you ill, or what? —-
你是喝醉了，还是…你病了，还是怎么了？ —-

But why don’t you speak? I am asking you: are you ill?”
但是为什么你不说话？我在问你，你病了吗？”

Shtchiptsov did not speak. In spite of the paint on his face, the comic man could not help noticing his striking pallor, the drops of sweat on his forehead, and the twitching of his lips. —-
希普乔夫没有说话。尽管喜剧演员脸上有化妆，但他还是注意到他苍白的面色，额头上的汗珠和嘴唇的抽搐。 —-

His hands and feet were trembling too, and the whole huge figure of the “good-natured simpleton” looked somehow crushed and flattened. —-
他的手和脚也在颤抖，而整个巨大的“善良的傻瓜”的形象看起来有些碾压和扁平。 —-

The comic man took a rapid glance round the room, but saw neither bottle nor flask nor any other suspicious vessel.
漫画家迅速扫视了房间一周，但没有看到任何瓶子、瓶子或其他可疑的容器。

“I say, Mishutka, you know you are ill!” he said in a flutter. —-
“我说，米休特卡，你知道自己生病了！” 他慌张地说。 —-

“Strike me dead, you are ill! You don’t look yourself!”
“我发誓，你病了！你看起来不对劲！”

Shtchiptsov remained silent and stared disconsolately at the floor.
斯奇普特索夫沉默不语，失望地盯着地板。

“You must have caught cold,” said Sigaev, taking him by the hand. —-
“你一定是着凉了，”希加耶夫拉着他的手说。 —-

“Oh, dear, how hot your hands are! What’s the trouble?”
“天啊，你的手多热！有什么问题吗？”

“I wa-ant to go home,” muttered Shtchiptsov.
“我想回家，”斯奇普特索夫嘟囔着。

“But you are at home now, aren’t you?”
“但你现在已经回家了，是吧？”

“No. . . . To Vyazma. . . .”
“不……回到维亚兹马……”

“Oh, my, anywhere else! It would take you three years to get to your Vyazma. . . . What? —-
“哦，我的天啊，去别的地方吧！你要花三年时间才能到达维亚兹马……怎么样？ —-

do you want to go and see your daddy and mummy? —-
“你想去看你的爸爸和妈妈吗？ —-

I’ll be bound, they’ve kicked the bucket years ago, and you won’t find their graves. . . .”
“我确信，他们早就去世了，你找不到他们的坟墓……”

“My ho-ome’s there.”
“我的家就在那儿。”

“Come, it’s no good giving way to the dismal dumps. —-
“来吧，别陷入消沉了。 —-

These neurotic feelings are the limit, old man. —-
“这种神经质的感觉真是够了，老兄。 —-

You must get well, for you have to play Mitka in ‘The Terrible Tsar’ to-morrow. —-
你必须好起来，因为明天你要扮演《可怕的沙皇》中的米特卡。 —-

There is nobody else to do it. Drink something hot and take some castor-oil? —-
没有别人可以扮演这个角色了。喝点热的东西，吃点蓖麻油吗？ —-

Have you got the money for some castor-oil? —-
你有钱买一些蓖麻油吗？ —-

Or, stay, I’ll run and buy some.”
哦，等一下，我去买一些。

The comic man fumbled in his pockets, found a fifteen-kopeck piece, and ran to the chemist’s. —-
喜剧演员摸索着口袋，找到了一个十五戈比的硬币，跑到药店去了。 —-

A quarter of an hour later he came back.
十五分钟后，他回来了。

“Come, drink it,” he said, holding the bottle to the “heavy father’s” mouth. —-
“来，喝吧，”他说着，把瓶子递到“重返的父亲”的嘴边。 —-

“Drink it straight out of the bottle. . . . All at a go! That’s the way. . . . —-
“一口气喝完。这样就行…… —-

Now nibble at a clove that your very soul mayn’t stink of the filthy stuff.”
现在啃一颗丁香，这样你的灵魂就不会被那肮脏的东西闻到。”

The comic man sat a little longer with his sick friend, then kissed him tenderly, and went away. —-
喜剧演员和他生病的朋友在一起待了一会儿，然后亲切地吻了他一下，离开了。 —-

Towards evening the jeune premier, Brama- Glinsky, ran in to see Shtchiptsov. —-
傍晚时分，年轻的男主角布拉马-格林斯基跑来看望斯奇普特索夫。 —-

The gifted actor was wearing a pair of prunella boots, had a glove on his left hand, was smoking a cigar, and even smelt of heliotrope, yet nevertheless he strongly suggested a traveller cast away in some land in which there were neither baths nor laundresses nor tailors. . . .
这位有天赋的演员穿着一双黑色绒面靴子，左手戴着手套，抽着雪茄，甚至身上还有淡香草的气味，然而他仍然给人一种在某个没有浴室、洗衣妇和裁缝的地方流落的旅行者的感觉……

“I hear you are ill?” he said to Shtchiptsov, twirling round on his heel. —-
“听说你病了？”他转身转到了斯奇普特索夫面前。 —-

“What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with you, really? . . .”
“你怎么了？你到底怎么了？”

Shtchiptsov did not speak nor stir.
斯奇普特索夫不说话，也不动。

“Why don’t you speak? Do you feel giddy? —-
“你为什么不说话？你感到头晕吗？” —-

Oh well, don’t talk, I won’t pester you . . —-
“哦，好吧，不说话，我不会烦你的。” —-

. don’t talk. . . .”
“别说话……”

Brama-Glinsky (that was his stage name, in his passport he was called Guskov) walked away to the window, put his hands in his pockets, and fell to gazing into the street. —-
布拉玛-格林斯基（这是他的艺名，在他的护照上他叫古斯科夫）走到窗前，把手放进口袋里，凝视着街景。 —-

Before his eyes stretched an immense waste, bounded by a grey fence beside which ran a perfect forest of last year’s burdocks. —-
在他眼前伸展开的是一片广阔的荒地，旁边是一道灰色的栅栏，旁边长满了去年的牛蒡。 —-

Beyond the waste ground was a dark, deserted factory, with windows boarded up. —-
荒地的后方是一家黑暗荒废的工厂，窗户上已经钉上了木板。 —-

A belated jackdaw was flying round the chimney. —-
一只迟到的寒鸦在烟囱周围飞来飞去。 —-

This dreary, lifeless scene was beginning to be veiled in the dusk of evening.
这个荒凉、无生命的景象开始被傍晚的暮色所笼罩。

“I must go home!” the jeune premier heard.
“我必须回家！”年轻的男演员听到了。

“Where is home?”
“家在哪里？”

“To Vyazma . . . to my home. . . .”
“回到维亚兹马…回到我的家…”

“It is a thousand miles to Vyazma . . . —-
“去维亚兹马要一千英里。 —-

my boy,” sighed Brama-Glinsky, drumming on the window-pane. —-
我的孩子，”布拉玛-格林斯基叹了口气，敲击着窗玻璃。 —-

“And what do you want to go to Vyazma for?”
“你想去维亚兹马干什么？”

“I want to die there.”
“我想在那里死去。”

“What next! Now he’s dying! He has fallen ill for the first time in his life, and already he fancies that his last hour is come. —-
“接下来！现在他快死了！他一生中的第一次生病，他已经觉得自己的最后一刻降临了。 —-

. . . No, my boy, no cholera will carry off a buffalo like you. —-
不，我家伙，不会有什么霍乱能够带走像你这样的一头野牛。 —-

You’ll live to be a hundred. . . . Where’s the pain?”
你会活到一百岁……哪里痛？”

“There’s no pain, but I . . . feel . . .”
“没有痛，但我……感觉……”

“You don’t feel anything, it all comes from being too healthy. Your surplus energy upsets you. —-
“你什么都感觉不到，都是因为你太健康了。你的多余能量让你感到不适。 —-

You ought to get jolly tight—drink, you know, till your whole inside is topsy-turvy. —-
你应该痛快地喝一通——喝啊，你知道的，直到你的内脏都乱七八糟。 —-

Getting drunk is wonderfully restoring. . . . —-
喝醉了真是太恢复精神了…… —-

Do you remember how screwed you were at Rostov on the Don? —-
你还记得你在顿河边的罗斯托夫酒馆喝醉的事吗？ —-

Good Lord, the very thought of it is alarming! —-
天哪，一想起来就可怕！ —-

Sashka and I together could only just carry in the barrel, and you emptied it alone, and even sent for rum afterwards. —-
萨什卡和我加一起才勉强把酒桶搬进去，而你一个人就把它喝光了，还叫人拿来朗姆酒。 —-

. . . You got so drunk you were catching devils in a sack and pulled a lamp-post up by the roots. —-
你喝得那么醉，竟然用袋子接住鬼，还把路灯杆拔起来。 —-

Do you remember? Then you went off to beat the Greeks. . . .”
你还记得吗？然后你去教训希腊人……”

Under the influence of these agreeable reminiscences Shtchiptsov’s face brightened a little and his eyes began to shine.
在这些愉快的回忆的影响下，什奇普佐夫的脸色稍微亮了一点，眼睛开始发光。

“And do you remember how I beat Savoikin the manager?” he muttered, raising his head. —-
“你还记得我怎么打败了经理萨伏伊金吗？”他嘟嘟囔囔地抬起头。 —-

“But there! I’ve beaten thirty-three managers in my time, and I can’t remember how many smaller fry. —-
“但是！我一生中打败了三十三个经理，至于打败了多少次小鱼小虾我都记不清了。 —-

And what managers they were! Men who would not permit the very winds to touch them! —-
什么样的经理啊！他们不让风吹到他们身上！ —-

I’ve beaten two celebrated authors and one painter!”
我打败了两个著名的作家和一个画家！

“What are you crying for?”
“你为什么哭呢？”

“At Kherson I killed a horse with my fists. —-
“在赫尔松，我用我的拳头打死了一匹马。 —-

And at Taganrog some roughs fell upon me at night, fifteen of them. —-
在塔甘罗格，有些流氓在晚上袭击了我，他们有十五个人。 —-

I took off their caps and they followed me, begging: —-
我摘下了他们的帽子，他们跟着我，乞求着说： —-

‘Uncle, give us back our caps.’ That’s how I used to go on.”
‘大叔，把我们的帽子还给我们吧。’我就是这么过来的。”

“What are you crying for, then, you silly?”
“那你为什么哭呢，你这傻瓜？”

“But now it’s all over . . . I feel it. If only I could go to Vyazma!”
“但是现在一切都结束了……我感觉到了。要是我能去维亚兹马就好了！”

A pause followed. After a silence Shtchiptsov suddenly jumped up and seized his cap. —-
沉默之后，什奇普佐夫突然跳了起来，拿起他的帽子。 —-

He looked distraught.
他看起来心烦意乱。

“Good-bye! I am going to Vyazma!” he articulated, staggering.
“再见！我要去维亚兹马了！”他结结巴巴地说着，摇摇晃晃地走开了。

“And the money for the journey?”
“那你的旅费呢？”

“H’m! . . . I shall go on foot!”
“嗯……我会步行去！”

“You are crazy. . . .”
“你疯了……”

The two men looked at each other, probably because the same thought—of the boundless plains, the unending forests and swamps—struck both of them at once.
两个男人互相看着对方，可能是因为同样的想法——无尽的平原、无边的森林和沼泽——同时触动了他们。

“Well, I see you have gone off your head,” the jeune premier commented. —-
“嗯，我看你都神经了，”年轻的男主角评论道。 —-

“I’ll tell you what, old man. . . . First thing, go to bed, then drink some brandy and tea to put you into a sweat. —-
“听着，老兄……首先，你去睡觉，然后喝点白兰地和茶，让你出点汗。 —-

And some castor-oil, of course. Stay, where am I to get some brandy?”
当然还要服用一些蓖麻油。等等，我怎么才能弄到一些白兰地呢？”

Brama-Glinsky thought a minute, then made up his mind to go to a shopkeeper called Madame Tsitrinnikov to try and get it from her on tick: —-
布拉马-格林斯基思考了一会儿，然后决定去找一个叫Tsitrinnikov夫人的店主，希望她能给他们一点信任： —-

who knows? perhaps the woman would feel for them and let them have it. —-
谁知道呢？也许这位女人会同情他们，让他们先欠着吧。 —-

The jeune premier went off, and half an hour later returned with a bottle of brandy and some castor-oil. —-
年轻的男主角离开了，半个小时后，他带着一瓶白兰地和一些蓖麻油回来了。 —-

Shtchiptsov was sitting motionless, as before, on the bed, gazing dumbly at the floor. —-
斯奇普佐夫一动不动地坐在床上，目光呆滞地盯着地板。 —-

He drank the castor-oil offered him by his friend like an automaton, with no consciousness of what he was doing. —-
他像机器人一样无意识地接过朋友递给他的蓖麻油，喝了下去。 —-

Like an automaton he sat afterwards at the table, and drank tea and brandy; —-
像机器一样，他坐在桌子前，喝茶和白兰地； —-

mechanically he emptied the whole bottle and let the jeune premier put him to bed. —-
他机械地将整瓶酒都喝光，让年轻的男主角送他上床。 —-

The latter covered him up with a quilt and an overcoat, advised him to get into a perspiration, and went away.
后者用被子和外套给他盖上，建议他出一身汗，然后离开了。

The night came on; Shtchiptsov had drunk a great deal of brandy, but he did not sleep. —-
夜幕降临了；斯奇普佐夫喝了很多白兰地，但他却没有睡着。 —-

He lay motionless under the quilt and stared at the dark ceiling; —-
他躺在被子下毫无动静地盯着黑暗的天花板； —-

then, seeing the moon looking in at the window, he turned his eyes from the ceiling towards the companion of the earth, and lay so with open eyes till the morning. —-
然后，他看到月亮透过窗户照进来，他的眼睛从天花板转向了地球的伴侣，闭着眼睛躺在那里，直到早晨。 —-

At nine o’clock in the morning Zhukov, the manager, ran in.
早上九点钟，经理朱科夫跑了进来。

“What has put it into your head to be ill, my angel?” he cackled, wrinkling up his nose. —-
“亲爱的，你怎么想到要生病了？”他咯咯咯笑着，皱起了鼻子。 —-

“Aie, aie! A man with your physique has no business to be ill! For shame, for shame! —-
“唉呀，唉呀！身体强壮的人不应该生病！真是丢人，丢人！ —-

Do you know, I was quite frightened. ‘Can our conversation have had such an effect on him? —-
你知道吗，我吓了一跳。“我们的谈话会对他产生这么大的影响吗？”我想。亲爱的，希望你不是因为我才生病的！ —-

’ I wondered. My dear soul, I hope it’s not through me you’ve fallen ill! —-
你知道你对我说了……呃……而且，同志之间不能没有争论。 —-

You know you gave me as good . . . er . . . And, besides, comrades can never get on without words. —-
你给了我很好的……呃……而且，同志之间不能没有争论。 —-

You called me all sorts of names . . . and have gone at me with your fists too, and yet I am fond of you! —-
你给了我很好的……呃……而且，同志之间不能没有争论。 —-

Upon my soul, I am. I respect you and am fond of you! Explain, my angel, why I am so fond of you. —-
我以我的灵魂起誓，我尊敬你也喜欢你！解释一下，亲爱的，为什么我这么喜欢你。 —-

You are neither kith nor kin nor wife, but as soon as I heard you had fallen ill it cut me to the heart.”
你既不是亲人，也不是妻子，但是一听说你生病我就心如刀割。

Zhukov spent a long time declaring his affection, then fell to kissing the invalid, and finally was so overcome by his feelings that he began laughing hysterically, and was even meaning to fall into a swoon, but, probably remembering that he was not at home nor at the theatre, put off the swoon to a more convenient opportunity and went away.
朱科夫花了很长时间表达他的深情，然后开始亲吻病人，最后他被情感压倒，开始歇斯底里地笑，甚至打算晕倒，但还认识到他不是在家里也不是在剧院，所以推迟了晕倒的时机，离开了。

Soon after him Adabashev, the tragic actor, a dingy, short-sighted individual who talked through his nose, made his appearance. —-
不久之后，艾达巴舍夫，一个面色暗淡、视力不好、谈话带鼻音的悲剧演员出现了。 —-

. . . For a long while he looked at Shtchiptsov, for a long while he pondered, and at last he made a discovery.
…他长时间地看着什奇普佐夫，长时间地思考，最后他发现了什么。

“Do you know what, Mifa?” he said, pronouncing through his nose “f” instead of “sh,” and assuming a mysterious expression. —-
“你知道吗，米佛？”他鼻音地说着“f”代替“sh”，还带着神秘的表情。 —-

“Do you know what? You ought to have a dose of castor-oil!”
“你知道吗？你应该服一剂蓖麻油！”

Shtchiptsov was silent. He remained silent, too, a little later as the tragic actor poured the loathsome oil into his mouth. —-
什奇普佐夫保持沉默。他保持沉默，就像不久之后这位悲剧演员把令人讨厌的油倒进他的嘴里时一样。 —-

Two hours later Yevlampy, or, as the actors for some reason called him, Rigoletto, the hairdresser of the company, came into the room. —-
两个小时后，由足为人们称为里戈莱托的理发师耶夫拉姆皮走进了房间。 —-

He too, like the tragic man, stared at Shtchiptsov for a long time, then sighed like a steam- engine, and slowly and deliberately began untying a parcel he had brought with him. —-
他也像那悲剧中的男子一样，长时间地凝视着什奇普佐夫，然后像蒸汽机一样叹了口气，慢悠悠地开始解开他带来的包裹。 —-

In it there were twenty cups and several little flasks.
里面有二十个杯子和几个小瓶子。

“You should have sent for me and I would have cupped you long ago,” he said, tenderly baring Shtchiptsov’s chest. —-
“你早就应该叫我来拔火罐了,”他温柔地揭开什奇普佐夫的胸膛说道。 —-

“It is easy to neglect illness.”
“忽视疾病真是太容易了。”

Thereupon Rigoletto stroked the broad chest of the “heavy father” and covered it all over with suction cups.
于是里戈莱托抚摸着这位”沉重的父亲”的宽胸，用吸力罐遍布全身。

“Yes . . .” he said, as after this operation he packed up his paraphernalia, crimson with Shtchiptsov’s blood. —-
“是的…”他在手术结束后收拾起用什奇普佐夫鲜血染红的器具时说道。 —-

“You should have sent for me, and I would have come. . . . You needn’t trouble about payment. . —-
“你早就应该叫我来了，我会过来的…你不必为费用操心…. —-

. . I do it from sympathy. Where are you to get the money if that idol won’t pay you? —-
…我是出于同情才这样做的。如果那个偶像不给你付钱，你从哪里弄钱? —-

Now, please take these drops. They are nice drops! And now you must have a dose of this castor-oil. —-
现在，请吃点这些药水。这些药水不错!然后你得服这种蓖麻油。 —-

It’s the real thing. That’s right! I hope it will do you good. —-
这是真货。对了!希望会对你有好处。 —-

Well, now, good-bye. . . .”
好了，现在，再见…”

Rigoletto took his parcel and withdrew, pleased that he had been of assistance to a fellow-creature.
里戈莱托拿着包裹离开了，他为能帮助一个同类感到高兴。

The next morning Sigaev, the comic man, going in to see Shtchiptsov, found him in a terrible condition. —-
第二天早上，喜剧演员西加耶夫去看什奇普佐夫时，发现他状况很糟。 —-

He was lying under his coat, breathing in gasps, while his eyes strayed over the ceiling. —-
他蜷缩在大衣下，呼吸急促，眼睛在天花板上游离。 —-

In his hands he was crushing convulsively the crumpled quilt.
他用力地握住了皱巴巴的被子。

“To Vyazma!” he whispered, when he saw the comic man. “To Vyazma.”
“到维亚兹马去！”他对那个滑稽的人轻声说道。“到维亚兹马去。”

“Come, I don’t like that, old man!” said the comic man, flinging up his hands. “You see . . —-
“来吧，老兄，我不喜欢这样！”滑稽的人举起双手说道。“你看到了。。。 —-

. you see . . . you see, old man, that’s not the thing! —-
你看到了。。。你看到了，老兄，这样不对！ —-

Excuse me, but . . . it’s positively stupid. . . .”
请原谅，但这实在是太愚蠢了。。。”

“To go to Vyazma! My God, to Vyazma!”
“去维亚兹马！我的上帝啊，去维亚兹马！”

“I . . . I did not expect it of you,” the comic man muttered, utterly distracted. —-
“我。。。我没想到你会这样。”滑稽的人完全分心地喃喃自语道。 —-

“What the deuce do you want to collapse like this for? Aie . . . aie . . . aie! . . . —-
“你到底想这样垮下去干嘛？啊。。。啊。。。啊！。。。 —-

that’s not the thing. A giant as tall as a watch-tower, and crying. —-
这不对劲。一个像守望塔一样高的巨人还在哭泣。 —-

Is it the thing for actors to cry?”
演员哭泣是为啥啊？”

“No wife nor children,” muttered Shtchiptsov. —-
“没有妻子没有孩子。”什切普佐夫喃喃自语道。 —-

“I ought not to have gone for an actor, but have stayed at Vyazma. —-
“我本不该去当演员，而是应该留在维亚兹马。 —-

My life has been wasted, Semyon! Oh, to be in Vyazma!”
我的一生都浪费了，塞缪尔！哦，如果能回到维亚兹马！”

“Aie . . . aie . . . aie! . . . that’s not the thing! —-
“啊。。。啊。。。啊！。。。这不对劲！ —-

You see, it’s stupid . . . contemptible indeed!”
你看，这很愚蠢。。。可鄙至极！”

Recovering his composure and setting his feelings in order, Sigaev began comforting Shtchiptsov, telling him untruly that his comrades had decided to send him to the Crimea at their expense, and so on, but the sick man did not listen and kept muttering about Vyazma . —-
收拾好内心情绪并整理好自己的感受后，西盖夫开始安慰希普佐夫，虚构地告诉他，他的战友们已经决定花费来送他去克里米亚等等，但这个病人没有听进去，仍然在嘀咕着维亚兹马。 —-

. . . At last, with a wave of his hand, the comic man began talking about Vyazma himself to comfort the invalid.
最后，喜剧演员挥了挥手，开始自己谈起维亚兹马来安慰这个病弱的人。

“It’s a fine town,” he said soothingly, “a capital town, old man! —-
“那是个很好的城镇，”他安慰地说，“一座首都级的城镇，老兄！ —-

It’s famous for its cakes. The cakes are classical, but—between ourselves—h’m! —-
那里以蛋糕闻名。蛋糕很经典，但是，我们私下说……呃！ —-

—they are a bit groggy. For a whole week after eating them I was . . . h’m! . . . —-
它们有点古怪。我吃完它们后整整一周……呃…… —-

But what is fine there is the merchants! —-
但是那里的商人很棒！ —-

They are something like merchants. When they treat you they do treat you!”
他们就是那种商人。当他们招待你时，他们会真的招待你！”

The comic man talked while Shtchiptsov listened in silence and nodded his head approvingly.
喜剧演员说着，而希普佐夫静静地听着，并赞同地点点头。

Towards evening he died.
傍晚时他去世了。