It was the summer of 1840.

时值一八四零年的夏天。

Sanin was in his twenty-second year, and he was in Frankfort on his way home from Italy to Russia. He was a man of small property, but independent, almost without family ties. By the death of a distant relative, he had come into a few thousand roubles, and he had decided to spend this sum abroad before entering the service, before finally putting on the government yoke, without which he could not obtain a secure livelihood. Sanin had carried out this intention, and had fitted things in to such a nicety that on the day of his arrival in Frankfort he had only just enough money left to take him back to Petersburg. In the year 1840 there were few railroads in existence; tourists travelled by diligence. Sanin had taken a place in the "bei-wagon"; but the diligence did not start till eleven o'clock in the evening. There was a great deal of time to be got through before then. Fortunately it was lovely weather, and Sanin after dining at a hotel, famous in those days, the White Swan, set off to stroll about the town. He went in to look at Danneker's Ariadne, which he did not much care for, visited the house of Goethe, of whose works he had, however, only read Werter, and that in the French translation. He walked along the bank of the Maine, and was bored as a well-conducted tourist should be; at last at six o'clock in the evening, tired, and with dusty boots, he found himself in one of the least remarkable streets in Frankfort. That street he was fated not to forget long, long after. On one of its few houses he saw a signboard: Giovanni Roselli, Italian confectionery, was announced upon it. Sanin went into it to get a glass of lemonade; but in the shop, where, behind the modest counter, on the shelves of a stained cupboard, recalling a chemist's shop, stood a few bottles with gold labels, and as many glass jars of biscuits, chocolate cakes, and sweetmeats—in this room, there was not a soul; only a grey cat blinked and purred, sharpening its claws on a tall wicker chair near the window and a bright patch of colour was made in the evening sunlight, by a big ball of red wool lying on the floor beside a carved wooden basket turned upside down. A confused noise was audible in the next room. Sanin stood a moment, and making the bell on the door ring its loudest, he called, raising his voice, "Is there no one here?" At that instant the door from an inner room was thrown open, and Sanin was struck dumb with amazement.

萨宁刚满二十二岁，他从意大利回俄国途中，路过法兰克福。他有一笔并不丰厚的财产，但只身一人，几乎没有亲戚。一位远亲去世后，萨宁得到了一笔几千卢布的遗产。于是他决定，在进机关之前，趁现在没有公务羁身，到国外去花掉这笔钱。要是不进机关工作，要过安稳的生活几乎是不可能的。萨宁完全实现了自己的心愿，一切都进行得很顺利。在他到达法兰克福的这天，身上剩下的钱恰好够他回到彼得堡。一八四零年时，铁路还很少，人们乘坐公共马车去旅行。萨宁在一架拖车里定好了位子，但是公共马车要到夜里十一点才开。开车之前，还有很长一段时间。幸好天气还不错，萨宁在一家当时很有名气的“白天鹅”旅馆吃过饭后，便进城去闲逛。他顺路去看丹内克尔塑的雕像——阿里阿德涅，却不怎么喜欢这个雕像；还去参观了歌德纪念馆，不过他只读过歌德的《少年维特之烦恼》，还是法译本。他沿着曼恩河畔漫步，感到寂寞无聊，像一个规规矩矩的游客一样。一直逛到傍晚六点，他很累，靴子上也满是灰尘，来到了法兰克福的一条格外冷清的小街。这条小街注定让他在很久很久以后都难以忘怀。小街上只有几座房屋，他看见其中一座房子上面有个招牌，赫然写着“意大利糖果店，乔瓦尼·罗塞利”的字样。萨宁进了店，想买杯柠檬汁。店堂里摆着普通的柜台，柜台后面有一个油漆过的柜子，柜子上摆着一些贴着金色标签的玻璃瓶，还有一样多的玻璃罐，罐里装着饼干、巧克力蛋糕、水果糖，让人觉得这像一家药房。屋里空无一人，只有一只灰猫趴在窗子旁边的高背藤椅上，眼睛一眨一眨，喉咙里呼呼噜噜，用爪子挠着藤椅。一只雕花木篮倒放在地上，旁边的一个红色毛线团在夕阳余晖的映衬下显得格外鲜艳。一阵混乱的声音从隔壁房间传来。萨宁站了一会儿，按了门铃的最大声，提高嗓门问道：“有人吗？”就在这时，里屋的门开了——萨宁不由得惊呆了。 ECfS2+a5gC0IsWd5OCLa/UavzdM3O2ObiVFdgpsBbep5wzakS/kG8sAJLSBguLIr