“WELL, let us begin,” said Dolohov.
“好吧，让我们开始吧。”多洛霍夫说道。

“To be sure,” said Pierre, still with the same smile.
“确实，”皮埃尔说道，依然带着同样的微笑。

A feeling of dread was in the air. It was obvious that the affair that had begun so lightly could not now be in any way turned back, that it was going forward of itself, independently of men’s will, and must run its course. —
一种可怕的感觉弥漫在空气中。很明显，这个开始得如此轻松的事情现在无论如何也无法回头了，它正在自行前进，独立于人们的意愿，并且必须按照它自己的进程进行。 —

Denisov was the first to come forward to the barrier and pronounce the words:
德尼索夫是第一个走上前来，站在栏杆前宣布了这样的一句话：

“Since the antagonists refuse all reconciliation, would it not be as well to begin? —
“既然对手们拒绝和解，那么开始也未尝不可。 —

Take your pistols, and at the word ‘three’ begin to advance together. O … one! Two! Three! —
拿起你们的手枪，听到‘三’就同时开始前进。一…两…三！ —

…” Denisov shouted angrily, and he walked away from the barrier. —
…”德尼索夫愤怒地喊道，然后离开了栏杆。 —

Both walked along the trodden tracks closer and closer together, beginning to recognise one another in the mist. —
两个人沿着踩踏的轨迹越走越近，开始在雾中相互辨认。 —

The combatants had the right to fire when they chose as they approached the barrier. —
当他们靠近栏杆时，战斗者们有权在任意时刻开火。 —

Dolohov walked slowly, not lifting his pistol, and looking intently with his clear, shining eyes into the face of his antagonist. —
多洛霍夫慢慢地走动着，没有举起手枪，用他那明亮的眼睛专注地盯着他的对手的脸。 —

His mouth wore, as always, the semblance of a smile.
如往常一样，他的嘴角挂着微笑的样子。

“So when I like, I can fire,” said Pierre, and at the word three, he walked with rapid steps forward, straying off the beaten track and stepping over the untrodden snow. —
“所以当我想的时候，我可以开枪，”皮埃尔说道，同时在说到“三”时，他快步向前走，离开了已经踏过的道路，跨过未经踩踏的雪地。 —

Pierre held his pistol at full length in his right hand, obviously afraid of killing himself with that pistol. —
皮埃尔将他的手枪完全伸直在右手上，显然害怕用那把手枪弄伤自己。 —

His left arm he studiously held behind him, because he felt inclined to use it to support his right arm, and he knew that was not allowed. —
他刻意将左臂藏在身后，因为他有些想用它来支撑右臂，而他知道这是不被允许的。 —

After advancing six paces, and getting off the track into the snow, Pierre looked about under his feet, glancing rapidly again at Dolohov, and stretching out his finger, as he had been shown, fired. —
在前进六步、远离道路踩入雪地之后，皮埃尔低头看了看自己脚下的地面，又迅速地瞥了一眼多洛霍夫，伸出指头，如同他所示范过的那样，开了枪。 —

Not at all expecting so loud a report, Pierre started at his own shot, then smiled at his own sensation and stood still. —
完全没有料到会有如此巨大的声响，皮埃尔被自己的枪声吓了一跳，然后对自己的感觉微笑着站在原地。 —

The smoke, which was made thicker by the fog, hindered him from seeing for the first moment; —
烟雾在雾气的作用下变得更浓，让他在最初的一瞬间看不清楚。 —

but the other shot that he was expecting did not follow. —
但他期待的另一声枪响却没有出现。 —

All that could be heard were Dolohov’s rapid footsteps, and his figure came into view through the smoke. —
只能听到多洛霍夫快速的脚步声，他的身影透过烟雾显现出来。 —

With one hand he was clutching at his left side, the other was clenched on the lower pistol. —
他一只手紧紧抓住左侧，另一只手握住下面的手枪。 —

His face was pale. Rostov was running up and saying something to him.
他的脸色苍白。罗斯托夫跑上前对他说了些什么。

“N…no,” Dolohov muttered through his teeth, “no, it’s not over”; —
“不，”多洛霍夫咬着牙嘀咕道，”不，还没结束”; —

and struggling on a few sinking, staggering steps up to the sword, he sank on to the snow beside it. His left hand was covered with blood, he rubbed it on his coat and leaned upon it. —
他挣扎着蹒跚地走到剑旁边的雪地上。他的左手被血染红，他把它擦在外套上，倚靠着它。 —

His face was pale, frowning and trembling.
他的脸色苍白，皱眉而发抖。

“Co…” Dolohov began, but he could not at once articulate the words: —
“共。。。”多洛霍夫开始说，但他一时间无法说出话来： —

“come up,” he said, with an effort. Pierre, hardly able to restrain his sobs, ran towards Dolohov, and would have crossed the space that separated the barriers, when Dolohov cried: —
“走近一点，”他费力地说。彼得无法控制自己的哭泣，向多洛霍夫跑去，本来要穿过分割隔离区的空间，但多洛霍夫喊道： —

“To the barrier!” and Pierre, grasping what was wanted, stood still just at the sword. —
“到障碍物那边去！”彼得明白了要求，停在剑旁边。 —

Only ten paces divided them. Dolohov putting his head down, greedily bit at the snow, lifted his head again, sat up, tried to get on his legs and sat down, trying to find a secure centre of gravity. —
只有十步就把他们分开了。多洛霍夫垂下头，贪婪地咬着雪，再抬起头，坐起来，试图站起来，但又坐了下来，试图找到一个稳定的重心。 —

He took a mouthful of the cold snow, and sucked it; his lips quivered, but still he smiled; —
他嘴里含了一口冰冷的雪，并吮吸着；他的嘴唇颤动着，但他依然微笑着； —

his eyes glittered with the strain and exasperation of the struggle with his failing forces. —
他的眼睛闪烁着奋力与烦恼的斗争的紧张和恼怒。 —

He raised the pistol and began taking aim.
他举起手枪开始瞄准。

“Sideways, don’t expose yourself to the pistol,” said Nesvitsky.
“侧身，别让自己暴露在手枪之下”，尼斯维茨基说。

“Don’t face it!” Denisov could not help shouting, though it was to an antagonist.
“别面对它！”德尼索夫忍不住大喊，尽管这是对一个敌手。

With his gentle smile of sympathy and remorse, Pierre stood with his legs and arms straddling helplessly, and his broad chest directly facing Dolohov, and looked at him mournfully. —
皮埃尔带着同情和懊悔的温和微笑，无助地站着，两腿和两臂张开，他宽阔的胸膛直接面对着多洛霍夫，并悲伤地望着他。 —

Denisov, Rostov, and Nesvitsky screwed up their eyes. —
德尼索夫，罗斯托夫和尼斯维茨基眯起了眼睛。 —

At the same instant they heard a shot and Dolohov’s wrathful cry.
就在同一瞬间，他们听到了一声枪响和多洛霍夫愤怒的喊叫。

“Missed!” shouted Dolohov, and he dropped helplessly, face downwards, in the snow. —
“没打中！”多洛霍夫喊道，然后无助地倒在雪地中，脸朝下。 —

Pierre clutched at his head, and turning back, walked into the wood, off the path in the snow, muttering aloud incoherent words.
皮埃尔抓着头，转身走进树林，踩在雪地上，口中喃喃自语着一些无意义的词句。

“Stupid…stupid! Death…lies…” he kept repeating, scowling. Nesvitsky stopped him and took him home.
他一直在重复着“愚蠢…愚蠢！死亡…谎言…”他皱起眉头。内斯维茨基把他拦下，并带他回家。

Rostov and Denisov got the wounded Dolohov away.
罗斯托夫和德尼索夫将受伤的多洛霍夫带走了。

Dolohov lay in the sledge with closed eyes, in silence, and uttered not a word in reply to questions addressed to him. —
多洛霍夫闭着眼睛躺在雪橇上，一言不发，对向他提问的问题都没有回答。 —

But as they were driving into Moscow, he suddenly came to himself, and lifting his head with an effort, he took the hand of Rostov, who was sitting near him. —
然而当他们驶进莫斯科的时候，他突然恢复了意识，费力地抬起头，握住了坐在他旁边的罗斯托夫的手。 —

Rostov was struck by the utterly transformed and unexpectedly passionately tender expression on Dolohov’s face.
罗斯托夫被多洛霍夫脸上完全改变而又出乎意料的充满激情和温柔的表情所震撼。

“Well? How do you feel?” asked Rostov.
“好吗？你感觉怎么样？”罗斯托夫问道。

“Bad! but that’s not the point. My friend,” said Dolohov, in a breaking voice, “where are we? —
“糟糕！但这不重要。我的朋友，”多洛霍夫声音嘶哑地说，“我们在哪里？ —

We are in Moscow, I know. I don’t matter, but I have killed her, killed her. —
我知道我们在莫斯科。我不重要，但我杀了她，杀了她。” —

…She won’t get over this. She can’t bear…”
…她无法从中恢复过来。她无法承受…”

“Who?” asked Rostov.
“谁？”罗斯托夫问道。

“My mother. My mother, my angel, my adored angel, my mother,” and squeezing Rostov’s hand, Dolohov burst into tears. —
“我的母亲。我的母亲，我的天使，我崇拜的天使，我的母亲，”多洛霍夫握住罗斯托夫的手，泪如泉涌。 —

When he was a little calmer, he explained to Rostov that he was living with his mother, that if his mother were to see him dying, she would not get over the shock. —
稍微平静些后，他向罗斯托夫解释，他和母亲住在一起，如果母亲看到他快要死了，她会无法从这一打击中恢复过来。 —

He besought Rostov to go to her and prepare her.
他请求罗斯托夫去见母亲并为她做好准备。

Rostov drove on ahead to carry out his wish, and to his immense astonishment he learned that Dolohov, this bully, this noted duellist Dolohov, lived at Moscow with his old mother and a hunchback sister, and was the tenderest son and brother.
罗斯托夫马上前去满足他的愿望，令他极为惊讶的是，他得知这个恶霸、臭名昭著的决斗者多洛霍夫居然和老母亲以及驼背的妹妹住在莫斯科，并且是一个极为孝顺的儿子和哥哥。