The Idiot: Compare Translations

At nine o’clock in the morning, towards the end of November, the Warsaw train was approaching Petersburg at full speed. It was thawing, and so damp and foggy that it was difficult to distinguish anything ten paces from the line to right or left of the carriage windows. Some of the passengers were returning from abroad, but the third-class compartments were most crowded, chiefly with people of humble rank, who had come a shorter distance on business. All of course were tired and shivering, their eyes were heavy after the night’s journey, and all their faces were pale and yellow to match the fog. In one of the third-class carriages, two passengers had, from early dawn, been sitting facing one another by the window. Both were young men, not very well dressed, and travelling with little luggage; both were of rather striking appearance, and both showed a desire to enter into conversation. If they had both known what was remarkable in one another at that moment, they would have been surprised at the chance which had so strangely brought them opposite one another in a third-class carriage of the Warsaw train.

At about nine in the morning at the end of November in melting snow, the Warsaw train was steaming fast towards St Petersburg. It was so damp and foggy that the dawn light struggled to break through; nothing much was visible out of the windows ten paces either side of the track. Some passengers were homeward bound from abroad, but the third-class carriages were particularly crowded, in the main, with small-town, short-distance business travellers. All were, as is usual on such journeys, dog-tired and bleary-eyed; all were freezing cold with pallid faces to match the fog. In one of the third-class compartments by the window two people had found themselves opposite each other from the small hours: both were young, travelling light; neither was too smartly dressed; both had rather distinctive features and – finally – both were ready to enter into conversation. Had either of them been aware of what it was that united them, they’d have wondered how it was that pure chance had brought them face to face in this third-class compartment of the Warsaw-St Petersburg train.

Towards the end of November, during a thaw, at nine o’clock one morning, a train on the Warsaw and Petersburg railway was approaching the latter city at full speed. The morning was so damp and misty that it was only with great difficulty that the day succeeded in breaking; and ten paces or so from the carriage windows it was almost impossible to distinguish anything. Some of the passengers by this particular train were returning from abroad; but the third class carriages were the best filled, chiefly with insignificant persons of various occupations and degrees, picked up at the different stations nearer town. All of them seemed weary, and most of them had sleepy eyes and a shivering expression, while their complexions generally appeared to have taken the colour of the fog outside. When day dawned, two passengers in one of the third class carriages found themselves opposite each other; both were young fellows, both were lightly and rather poorly dressed, both had remarkable faces, and both were evidently anxious to start a conversation. If they had but known why, at this particular moment, they were both remarkable persons, they would undoubtedly have wondered at the strange chance which had set them down opposite to one another in a third class carriage of the Warsaw Railway Company.

At about nine o’clock one morning, at the end of November, during a thaw, a train of the St Petersburg-Warsaw line was approaching St Petersburg at full steam. Such were the damp and the fog that it was a while before daylight broke; at ten yards to the right and the left of the track it was hard to make out any- thing at all from the windows of the carriage. The passengers included some returning from abroad; but the third-class compartments were the most crowded, with ordinary folk and those on business, who had not travelled far. Everyone, as is usually the case, was tired, with eyes heavy after the night, everyone was cold, every face was pale yellow, the colour of the fog. In one of the third-class carriages, since dawn, two passengers had found themselves opposite each other close by the window – both young men, both with almost no luggage to speak of, both unostentatiously dressed, both with rather remarkable facial features, and both wishing to enter into conversation with the other. If each had known what was especially remarkable about each other at that moment, they would certainly have marvelled that chance had so strangely put them opposite each other in a third-class carriage of the Warsaw-St Petersburg train.

At 9 A.M. toward the end of November, the Warsaw train was approaching Petersburg at full speed. It was thawing, and so damp and foggy that it was difficult to distinguish anything ten paces to the right or left of the train. Some of the passengers were returning from abroad, but the third-class compartments were mostly crowded with people of low rank, who had come a shorter distance on business. All were tired and shivering, their eyes were heavy after the night’s journey, and all their faces were pale and yellow to match the fog. In one of the third-class carriages, two passengers had been sitting facing one another by the window since early in the morning. Both were young men, not very well dressed, and traveling with little luggage; both were of rather striking appearance, and both showed a desire to enter into conversation. If they had both known what was remarkable in one another at that moment, they would have been surprised at the chance which had brought them together in a third-class carriage of the Warsaw train.

In late November, during a thaw, around nine in the morning, a train on the Petersburg-Warsaw railway line was approaching Petersburg at full blast. It was so damp and foggy that it had just barely grown light; within ten paces to the right and left of the rails, it was difficult to make out anything at all from the carriage windows. Among the passengers were some returning from abroad; but the third-class compartments were more crowded, mainly with common folk on business, from not too far away. As usual, everyone was tired, everyone’s eyes had grown heavy in the night, everyone was chilled, all the faces were pale and yellow, matching the color of the fog. In one of the third-class carriages, right by the window, two passengers had, from early dawn, been sitting facing one another-both were young people, both traveled light, both were unfashionably dressed, both had rather remarkable faces, and both expressed, at last, a desire to start a conversation. If they had both known, one about the other, in what way they were especially remarkable in that moment, they would naturally have wondered that chance had so strangely placed them face to face in a third-class carriage of the Warsaw-Petersburg train.

At the end of November, during a warm spell, at about nine o’clock in the morning, the Petersburg-Warsaw train was approaching Petersburg at full speed. It was so damp and foggy that dawn was barely breaking; at ten paces, to the right and left of the railway tracks, it was difficult to distinguish almost anything from the train window. Among the passengers there were some who were returning from abroad. The third-class compartment was the most crowded of all: most of the passengers were average folks and those traveling on business who were not coming from very far away. Everyone was tired, as usual; they all looked weary after a night’s voyage; all were chilled and their faces were pale yellow, the color of the fog. In one of the third-class cars, since daybreak, two passengers had found themselves sitting opposite each other next to the window-both were young, both were traveling light, unfashionably dressed, with rather remarkable features; and, in the end, both were eager to strike up a conversation with the other. If each had known at that moment what made them particularly remarkable, then of course they would have been surprised that chance had seated them opposite each other in a third-class railway car on the Petersburg-Warsaw train.

At about nine o’clock in the morning at the end of November, during a thaw, the Warsaw train was approaching Petersburg at full speed. It was so damp and foggy that it was a long time before it grew light, and even then it was difficult to distinguish out of the carriage windows anything a few yards to the right and left of the railway track. Among the passengers there were some who were returning from abroad; but it was the third-class compartments that were crowded most of all, chiefly with small business men who had boarded the train at the last stop. As usual, everyone was tired, everyone looked weary after a night’s journey, everyone was chilled to the marrow, and everyone’s face was pale and yellow, the colour of the fog. Two passengers had found themselves sitting opposite each other by the window of one of the third-class compartments since daybreak – both of them young men, both travelling light, both far from fashionably dressed, both of a rather striking appearance, and, finally, both anxious to start a conversation with one another. Had they known what was so extraordinary about them at this moment, they would no doubt have been surprised that chance should have so strangely placed them opposite each other in a third-class compartment of the Warsaw-Petersburg train.

Towards the end of November, during a warm spell, at around nine o’clock in the morning, a train of the Petersburg-Warsaw line was approaching Petersburg at full steam. It was so damp and foggy that dawn could barely break; ten paces to right or left of the line it was hard to make out anything at all through the carriage windows. Among the passengers there were some who were returning from abroad; but the third-class compartments were more crowded, and they were all petty business folk from not far away. Everyone was tired, as usual, everyone’s eyes had grown heavy overnight, everyone was chilled, everyone’s face was pale yellow, matching the color of the fog. In one of the third-class carriages, at dawn, two passengers found themselves facing each other just by the window-both young men, both traveling light, both unfashionably dressed, both with rather remarkable physiognomies, and both, finally, willing to get into conversation with each other. If they had known what was so remarkable about the one and the other at that moment, they would certainly have marveled at the chance that had so strangely seated them facing each other in the third- class carriage of the Petersburg-Warsaw train.

At around nine in the morning towards the end of a thawing November, the Warsaw train was approaching Petersburg at full steam. The weather was so dank and misty that it was a long time getting light; anything beyond a dozen yards to left or right of the track could hardly be made out from the carriage windows at all. Among the passengers were some returning from abroad, but it was the third-class compartments which were really crowded- for the most part with ordinary folk and business-people, not travelling long distance. As usual, everyone was tired and heavy-eyed after the night, everybody was chilled through, their faces wan-yellow to match the fog. In one of the third-class carriages, two passengers had found themselves opposite each other by the window since day-break—both young men, both travelling light, both plainly dressed, both with rather striking features, and both at length desirous of engaging the other in conversation. Had each been aware of what was remarkable about the other at that particular moment, they would naturally have marvelled that chance had so curiously placed them opposite one another in a third-class carriage of the Warsaw-Petersburg train.

Towards the end of November, during a thaw, at nine o’clock one morning, a train on the Warsaw and Petersburg railway was approaching the latter city at full speed. The morning was so damp and misty that it was only with great difficulty that the day succeeded in breaking; and it was impossible to distinguish anything more than a few yards away from the carriage windows.

Some of the passengers by this particular train were returning from abroad; but the third-class carriages were the best filled, chiefly with insignificant persons of various occupations and degrees, picked up at the different stations nearer town. All of them seemed weary, and most of them had sleepy eyes and a shivering expression, while their complexions generally appeared to have taken on the colour of the fog outside.

When day dawned, two passengers in one of the third-class carriages found themselves opposite each other. Both were young fellows, both were rather poorly dressed, both had remarkable faces, and both were evidently anxious to start a conversation. If they had but known why, at this particular moment, they were both remarkable persons, they would undoubtedly have wondered at the strange chance which had set them down opposite to one another in a third-class carriage of the Warsaw Railway Company.

About nine ‘clock on a late November morning during a thaw, the train from Warsaw was nearing Petersburg at full speed. It was so wet and foggy that there was still hardly any light, and from the train windows it was difficult to distinguish anything ten yards on either side of the tracks. Among the passengers there were some returning from abroad, but the third-class compartments were the most crowded, mainly with ordinary people on business coming from no great distance. As usual, everyone was tired, everyone’s eyes were heavy from a sleepless night, everyone was chilled to the bone, everyone’s face shone with the yellow pallor of the fog. By the window in one of the third-class cars two passengers had been facing each other since dawn, both of them young men, both with little luggage, both unfashionably dressed, both of rather striking appearance, and both wishing, finally, to open a conversation with each other. Had they known about one another and why they were both at that moment remarkable, they would certainly have marveled that chance had so strangely put them opposite each other in the third-class car of the Warsaw-Petersburg train.

В конце ноября, в оттепель, часов в девять утра, поезд Петербургско-Варшавской железной дороги на всех парах подходил к Петербургу. Было так сыро и туманно, что насилу рассвело; в десяти шагах, вправо и влево от дороги, трудно было разглядеть хоть что-нибудь из окон вагона. Из пассажиров были и возвращавшиеся из-за границы; но более были наполнены отделения для третьего класса, и всё людом мелким и деловым, не из очень далека. Все, как водится, устали, у всех отяжелели за ночь глаза, все назяблись, все лица были бледно-желтые, под цвет тумана.

В одном из вагонов третьего класса, с рассвета, очутились друг против друга, у самого окна, два пассажира — оба люди молодые, оба почти налегке, оба не щегольски одетые, оба с довольно замечательными физиономиями и оба пожелавшие, наконец, войти друг с другом в разговор. Если б они оба знали один про другого, чем они особенно в эту минуту замечательны, то, конечно, подивились бы, что случай так странно посадил их друг против друга в третьеклассном вагоне петербургско-варшавского поезда.

[Google translation of above text:] Towards the end of November, during a thaw, at about nine o’clock in the morning, a train on the St. Petersburg-Warsaw line was approaching St. Petersburg at full steam. It was so damp and foggy that daybreak was barely perceptible; looking out the carriage windows, one could hardly make out anything ten paces to the right or left of the tracks. There were passengers returning from abroad, but the third-class compartments were more crowded—filled mostly with common folk and people on business, traveling from no great distance. Everyone was tired, as usual; eyes were heavy from the night, everyone was chilled, and every face was a pale yellow, matching the color of the fog.

In one of the third-class carriages, two passengers found themselves seated opposite each other by the window as dawn broke: both were young men, both traveling with little luggage, both dressed without pretension, both possessing rather striking countenances, and both—eventually—inclined to strike up a conversation. Had they known what made each of them particularly remarkable at that moment, they would surely have marveled that chance had so strangely seated them across from one another in a third-class carriage of the St. Petersburg-Warsaw train.