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カラフル対訳で紹介している『白痴』は、パブリックドメインの作品を出典としています。

このサイトで使われている作品は、ロシアの文豪フョードル・ドストエフスキーによる小説 The Idiot を出典としています。 英文は Eva M. Martin による英訳版をもとにしています。 原文は、著作権の切れた名作などの全文を電子化し、インターネット上で公開している Project Gutenberg(プロジェクト・グーテンベルク)、 朗読音声は LibriVox(リブリヴォックス/朗読図書館) の公開音声を出典としています。

原文はProject Gutenberg、音声はLibriVoxで公開されているパブリックドメイン作品を出典としています。

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『白痴』英文/和訳 PART III CHAPTER VIII Part 1

Fyodor Dostoyevsky『The Idiot』PART III CHAPTER VIII の前半です。公園のベンチで目覚めた公爵とアグラーヤの対話を、英文・和訳ペアで整理し、重要語句・心理描写・会話表現を多めに色分けしています。

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She laughed, but she was rather angry too.

“He’s asleep! You were asleep,” she said, with contemptuous surprise.

“Is it really you?” muttered the prince, not quite himself as yet, and recognizing her with a start of amazement.

“Oh yes, of course,” he added, “this is our rendezvous. I fell asleep here.”

“So I saw.”

“Did no one awake me besides yourself? Was there no one else here? I thought there was another woman.”

“There was another woman here?”

At last he was wide awake.

“It was a dream, of course,” he said, musingly. “Strange that I should have a dream like that at such a moment. Sit down—”

He took her hand and seated her on the bench; then sat down beside her and reflected.

Aglaya did not begin the conversation, but contented herself with watching her companion intently.

He looked back at her, but at times it was clear that he did not see her and was not thinking of her.

Aglaya began to flush up.

“Oh yes!” cried the prince, starting. “Hippolyte’s suicide—”

“What? At your house?” she asked, but without much surprise. “He was alive yesterday evening, wasn’t he?”

“How could you sleep here after that?” she cried, growing suddenly animated.

“Oh, but he didn’t kill himself; the pistol didn’t go off.”

Aglaya insisted on hearing the whole story.

She hurried the prince along, but interrupted him with all sorts of questions, nearly all of which were irrelevant.

Among other things, she seemed greatly interested in every word that Evgenie Pavlovitch had said, and made the prince repeat that part of the story over and over again.

“Well, that’ll do; we must be quick,” she concluded, after hearing all.

“We have only an hour here, till eight; I must be home by then without fail, so that they may not find out that I came and sat here with you.”

“But I’ve come on business. I have a great deal to say to you.”

“But you have bowled me over considerably with your news.”

“As to Hippolyte, I think his pistol was bound not to go off; it was more consistent with the whole affair.”

“Are you sure he really wished to blow his brains out, and that there was no humbug about the matter?”

“No humbug at all.”

“Very likely. So he wrote that you were to bring me a copy of his confession, did he? Why didn’t you bring it?”

“Why, he didn’t die! I’ll ask him for it, if you like.”

“Bring it by all means; you needn’t ask him. He will be delighted, you may be sure.”

“For, in all probability, he shot at himself simply in order that I might read his confession.”

“Don’t laugh at what I say, please, Lef Nicolaievitch, because it may very well be the case.”

“I’m not laughing. I am convinced, myself, that that may have been partly the reason.”

“You are convinced? You don’t really mean to say you think that honestly?” asked Aglaya, extremely surprised.

She put her questions very quickly and talked fast, every now and then forgetting what she had begun to say, and not finishing her sentence.

She seemed to be impatient to warn the prince about something or other.

She was in a state of unusual excitement, and though she put on a brave and even defiant air, she seemed to be rather alarmed.

She was dressed very simply, but this suited her well.

She continually trembled and blushed, and she sat on the very edge of the seat.

The fact that the prince confirmed her idea, about Hippolyte shooting himself that she might read his confession, surprised her greatly.

“Of course,” added the prince, “he wished us all to applaud his conduct—besides yourself.”

“How do you mean—applaud?”

“Well—how am I to explain? He was very anxious that we should all come around him.”

“And say we were so sorry for him, and that we loved him very much, and all that; and that we hoped he wouldn’t kill himself, but remain alive.”

“Very likely he thought more of you than the rest of us, because he mentioned you at such a moment, though perhaps he did not know himself that he had you in his mind’s eye.”

“I don’t understand you. How could he have me in view, and not be aware of it himself?”

“And yet, I don’t know—perhaps I do.”

“Do you know I have intended to poison myself at least thirty times—ever since I was thirteen or so—and to write to my parents before I did it?”

“I used to think how nice it would be to lie in my coffin, and have them all weeping over me and saying it was all their fault for being so cruel.”

“What are you smiling at?” she added, knitting her brow.

“What do you think of when you go mooning about alone? I suppose you imagine yourself a field-marshal, and think you have conquered Napoleon?”

“Well, I really have thought something of the sort now and then, especially when just dozing off,” laughed the prince.

“Only it is the Austrians whom I conquer—not Napoleon.”

“I don’t wish to joke with you, Lef Nicolaievitch. I shall see Hippolyte myself. Tell him so.”

“As for you, I think you are behaving very badly, because it is not right to judge a man’s soul as you are judging Hippolyte’s.”

“You have no gentleness, but only justice—so you are unjust.”

The prince reflected.

“I think you are unfair towards me,” he said.

“There is nothing wrong in the thoughts I ascribe to Hippolyte; they are only natural.”

“But of course I don’t know for certain what he thought. Perhaps he thought nothing, but simply longed to see human faces once more, and to hear human praise and feel human affection.”

“Who knows? Only it all came out wrong, somehow.”

“Some people have luck, and everything comes out right with them; others have none, and never a thing turns out fortunately.”

“I suppose you have felt that in your own case,” said Aglaya.

“Yes, I have,” replied the prince, quite unsuspicious of any irony in the remark.

“H’m—well, at all events, I shouldn’t have fallen asleep here, in your place. It wasn’t nice of you, that.”

“I suppose you fall asleep wherever you sit down?”

“But I didn’t sleep a wink all night. I walked and walked about, and went to where the music was—”

“What music?”

“Where they played last night. Then I found this bench and sat down, and thought and thought—and at last I fell fast asleep.”

“Oh, is that it? That makes a difference, perhaps. What did you go to the bandstand for?”

“I don’t know; I—”

“Very well—afterwards. You are always interrupting me. What woman was it you were dreaming about?”

“It was—about—you saw her—”

“Quite so; I understand. I understand quite well.”

“You are very—Well, how did she appear to you? What did she look like?”

“No, I don’t want to know anything about her,” said Aglaya, angrily; “don’t interrupt me—”

She paused a moment as though getting breath, or trying to master her feeling of annoyance.

“Look here; this is what I called you here for. I wish to make you a—to ask you to be my friend.”

“What do you stare at me like that for?” she added, almost angrily.

* * *

“I want to open my heart to you, as to a friend.”

“I don’t know why I have chosen you, but I think it is because you are not like anyone else.”

“You are quite different from everyone, and I must have somebody to speak to.”

“I wanted to speak to you about the chief point, but you interrupted me with all this.”

“I am going to speak quite frankly, and you must not laugh at me.”

The prince listened in astonishment, and even with a certain fear.

“Thank you; I am glad to be like mamma,” she said, thoughtfully. “You respect her very much, don’t you?”

She added this quite unconscious of the naiveness of the question.

“Very much; and I am so glad that you have realized the fact.”

“I am very glad, too, because she is often laughed at by people. But listen to the chief point.”

“I have long thought over the matter, and at last I have chosen you.”

“I don’t wish people to laugh at me; I don’t wish people to think me a ‘little fool.’ I don’t want to be chaffed.”

“I felt all this of a sudden, and I refused Evgenie Pavlovitch flatly.”

“Because I am not going to be forever thrown at people’s heads to be married.”

“I want—I want—well, I’ll tell you, I wish to run away from home, and I have chosen you to help me.”

“Run away from home?” cried the prince.

“Yes—yes—yes! Run away from home!” she repeated, in a transport of rage.

“I won’t, I won’t be made to blush every minute by them all!”

“I don’t want to blush before Prince S. or Evgenie Pavlovitch, or anyone, and therefore I have chosen you.”

“I shall tell you everything, everything, even the most important things of all, whenever I like, and you are to hide nothing from me on your side.”

“I want to speak to at least one person, as I would to myself.”

“They have suddenly begun to say that I am waiting for you, and in love with you.”

“They began this before you arrived here, and so I didn’t show them the letter, and now they all say it, every one of them.”

“I want to be brave, and be afraid of nobody. I don’t want to go to their balls and things—I want to do good.”

“I have long desired to run away, for I have been kept shut up for twenty years, and they are always trying to marry me off.”

“I wanted to run away when I was fourteen years old—I was a little fool then, I know—but now I have worked it all out.”

“And I have waited for you to tell me about foreign countries. I have never seen a single Gothic cathedral.”

“I must go to Rome; I must see all the museums; I must study in Paris.”

“All this last year I have been preparing and reading forbidden books.”

“Alexandra and Adelaida are allowed to read anything they like, but I mayn’t.”

“I don’t want to quarrel with my sisters, but I told my parents long ago that I wish to change my social position.”

“I have decided to take up teaching, and I count on you because you said you loved children.”

“Can we go in for education together—if not at once, then afterwards? We could do good together.”

“I won’t be a general’s daughter any more! Tell me, are you a very learned man?”

“Oh no; not at all.”

“Oh-h-h! I’m sorry for that. I thought you were. I wonder why I always thought so—but at all events you’ll help me, won’t you?”

“Because I’ve chosen you, you know.”

“Aglaya Ivanovna, it’s absurd.”

“But I will, I will run away!” she cried—and her eyes flashed again with anger.

“And if you don’t agree I shall go and marry Gavrila Ardalionovitch!”

“I won’t be considered a horrible girl, and accused of goodness knows what.”

“Are you out of your mind?” cried the prince, almost starting from his seat.

“What do they accuse you of? Who accuses you?”

“At home, everybody, mother, my sisters, Prince S., even that detestable Colia!”

“If they don’t say it, they think it. I told them all so to their faces.”

“I told mother and father and everybody. Mamma was ill all the day after it.”

“And next day father and Alexandra told me that I didn’t understand what nonsense I was talking.”

“I informed them that they little knew me—I was not a small child—I understood every word in the language.”

“That I had read a couple of Paul de Kok’s novels two years since on purpose, so as to know all about everything.”

“No sooner did mamma hear me say this than she nearly fainted!”

A strange thought passed through the prince’s brain; he gazed intently at Aglaya and smiled.

He could not believe that this was the same haughty young girl who had once so proudly shown him Gania’s letter.

He could not understand how that proud and austere beauty could show herself to be such an utter child.

A child who probably did not even now understand some words.

“Have you always lived at home, Aglaya Ivanovna?” he asked.

“I mean, have you never been to school, or college, or anything?”

“No—never—nowhere! I’ve been at home all my life, corked up in a bottle.”

“And they expect me to be married straight out of it.”

“What are you laughing at again? I observe that you, too, have taken to laughing at me.”

“And range yourself on their side against me,” she added, frowning angrily.

“Don’t irritate me—I’m bad enough without that—I don’t know what I am doing sometimes.”

“I am persuaded that you came here today in the full belief that I am in love with you, and that I arranged this meeting because of that,” she cried, with annoyance.

“I admit I was afraid that that was the case, yesterday,” blundered the prince, “but today I am quite convinced that—”

“How?” cried Aglaya—and her lower lip trembled violently.

“You were afraid that I—you dared to think that I—good gracious!”

“You suspected, perhaps, that I sent for you to come here in order to catch you in a trap.”

“So that they should find us here together, and make you marry me—”

“Aglaya Ivanovna, aren’t you ashamed of saying such a thing?”

“How could such a horrible idea enter your sweet, innocent heart?”

“I am certain you don’t believe a word of what you say, and probably you don’t even know what you are talking about.”

Aglaya sat with her eyes on the ground; she seemed to have alarmed even herself by what she had said.

“No, I’m not; I’m not a bit ashamed!” she murmured.

“And how do you know my heart is innocent? And how dared you send me a love-letter that time?”

“Love-letter? My letter a love-letter? That letter was the most respectful of letters.”

“It went straight from my heart, at what was perhaps the most painful moment of my life!”

“I thought of you at the time as a kind of light. I—”

“Well, very well, very well!” she said, but quite in a different tone.

She was remorseful now, and bent forward to touch his shoulder.

Though still trying not to look him in the face, as if the more persuasively to beg him not to be angry with her.

“Very well,” she continued, looking thoroughly ashamed of herself, “I feel that I said a very foolish thing.”

“I only did it just to try you. Take it as unsaid, and if I offended you, forgive me.”

“Don’t look straight at me like that, please; turn your head away.”

“You called it a ‘horrible idea’; I only said it to shock you.”

“Very often I am myself afraid of saying what I intend to say, and out it comes all the same.”

“You have just told me that you wrote that letter at the most painful moment of your life. I know what moment that was!”

She added softly, looking at the ground again.

“Oh, if you could know all!”

“I do know all!” she cried, with another burst of indignation.

“You were living in the same house as that horrible woman with whom you ran away.”

She did not blush as she said this; on the contrary, she grew pale, and started from her seat.

Apparently oblivious of what she did, and immediately sat down again.

Her lip continued to tremble for a long time.

There was silence for a moment.

The prince was taken aback by the suddenness of this last reply, and did not know to what he should attribute it.

“I don’t love you a bit!” she said suddenly, just as though the words had exploded from her mouth.

The prince did not answer, and there was silence again.

“I love Gavrila Ardalionovitch,” she said, quickly; but hardly audibly, and with her head bent lower than ever.

“That is not true,” said the prince, in an equally low voice.

“What! I tell stories, do I? It is true! I gave him my promise a couple of days ago on this very seat.”

The prince was startled, and reflected for a moment.

“It is not true,” he repeated, decidedly; “you have just invented it!”

“You are wonderfully polite. You know he is greatly improved.”

“He loves me better than his life. He let his hand burn before my very eyes in order to prove to me that he loved me better than his life!”

“He burned his hand!”

原文:Project Gutenberg “The Idiot” by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, translated by Eva M. Martin をもとに、英語学習用の英文・和訳・語句色分け形式に編集しています。
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白痴

『白痴』英文/和訳 PART III CHAPTER VII Part 2 『白痴』英文/和訳 PART III CHAPTER VIII Part 2