"The talk was that a new face had appeared on the embankment: a lady with a little dog. Dmitri Dmitrich Gurov, who had already spent two weeks in Yalta and was used to it, also began to take an interest in new faces. Sitting in a pavilion at Vernet's he saw a young woman, not very tall, blond, in a beret, walking along the embankment; behind her ran a white spitz."

Trans:  Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky.  Anton Chekhov: Stories. Bantam. 2000

2.

 "They were saying a new face had been seen on the esplanade:  a lady with a pet dog.  Dmitry Dmitrich Gurov, who had already spent two weeks in Yalta and regarded himself as an old hand, was beginning to show an interest in new faces.  He was sitting in Vernet's coffeehouse when he saw a young lady, blonde and fairly tall, wearing a beret and walking along the esplanade.  A white Pomeranian was trotting behind her."

Trans:  RobertPayne, 1963.  The Image of Chekhov: Forty Stories by Anton Chekhov. Vintage Russian Library.  1963

3.

 "It was said that a new person had appeared on the seafront:  a lady with a little dog.  Dmitri Dmitrivich Gurov, who had by then been a fortnight at Yalta, and so was fairly at home there, had begun to take an interest in new arrivals.  Sitting in Verney's pavilion, he saw, walking on the seafront, a fair-haired young lady of medium height, wearing a beret; a white Pomeranian dog was running behind her."

 Trans:  Constance Garnett, 1945.  Great Russian Short Stories.  Ed. Norris Houghton. Dell.  1958.

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The span of decades, from the 21st century team of Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky (he's American, she's Russian) to the venerable Constance Garnett (1861-1946) whose name appears on much of the first generation of translations of Russian Lit, is of immediate interest.  In terms of diction, notice Garnett's "fortnight" versus "two weeks" in the later pair.

But let's look for subtler contrasts.  It's probably easiest to spot translation "issues" by a close explication with the phrasing side-by-side.  Let's use a triptych pattern of newest to oldest translation:

"They were saying. . ./The talk was. . ./It was said. . . "  Note the subtle decline of immediacy.  The verb phrases recede from a fairly concrete 'they' (people) who were definitely 'saying' to a more general 'the talk was' (note now actual people are gone here), to the very passive and subjunctive construction 'It was said.'  The latter (Constance Garnett's) has, I think, the better grasp of the psychological atmosphere of the summer seaside resort. Time has slowed down.  One fellow, Gurov, has nothing better to do that sit and drink coffee and watch the sea and people who walk near it.  'It was said' has the larger import, suggesting that what was said might or might not be true, with a tilt toward the latter.  The matter of doubt is no small thing:  it gives the plot (the potential arrival of new person) a clear uptick in energy. 'It was said' also has the scent of The Period about it (late 19th century)–not so blunt or direct as modern expression. Overall, Garnett has the most pleasing mesh of language and manners contemporaneous to the story.

Next, "a new face. . ./ a new face. . . / a new person. . . "  Not a lot to say here.  Garnett's diction choice stays with reserve and distance; the more modern 'face' shortens the social depth of field. 

 And then intelligence of the woman  who "appeared  on the embankment. . . /  had been seen on the esplanade. . . / had appeared on the seafront. . ."  Here we have three quite different choices, of which 'embankment' seems the most over-thought and downright clumsy option.  'Esplanade' is a splendid word, and is my choice.  It denotes a flat area along the sea (originally 'top of a rampart' ) on which people stroll for pleasure–which is what we do when we arrive at the beach. 'Embankment' means dike or barrier to hold back water, and carries no connotation of pleasure-walking.  'Sea-front' will serve, though could mean on the sand, the beach itself, rather than on a more civilized  terrace (we  imagine a walkway  of paving stones, or brickwork underfoot suitable for leather shoes and perambulators–a word Constance Garnett would certainly have chosen).          

 Gurov (Dmitri/Dimitry/Dimitri Dimitrivich), the translators agree, has been at the resort two weeks.  They differ slightly on the effects of his vacation.  Because of the two week stay Gurov". . . was used to it/. . . regarded himself as an old hand /. . . was fairly at home there. . . ."  Again, the modern 'used to it' feels flat.  Lifeless.  The psychological energy–an incipience– built up from two weeks' rest and reflection is gone. Garnett's 'at home there' will do, as we all know the feeling of finally settling into a vacation spot.  But Payne's 'regarded himself as old hand' is the more pleasing choice.  It carries a sense of playfulness; that Gurov's imagination is working and that he is open to adventure. 

Gurov was "Sitting in a pavilion at Vernet's he saw. . . /He was sitting in Vernet's coffeehouse when he saw. . . /Sitting in Verney's pavilion, he saw. . . ."  Technically speaking, Payne's 'was sitting' is most correct. Gurov is seated. The other two, especially Pevear and Volokhonsky's, feel slightly dangly in terms of their participles.  

And by dint of his two weeks, Gurov "also began to take an interest in new faces. . . /was beginning to show an interest in new faces. . . / had begun to take an interest in new arrivals. . ."  No huge contrasts here in the three verb constructions.  At most, an echo of the more immediate to the more reserved expression.  

He saw a "young woman, not very tall, blond. . . /young lady, blonde and fairly tall/. . . a fair-haired young lady of medium height. . . "  Okay, was she or wasn't she (tall)?  Not that it really matters, but one would think the translators could agree on that.

And I think "wearing a beret . . ." as opposed to ". . . in a beret".  It's the kind of thing a good copy editor would flag.

Finally, ". . . behind her ran a white spitz/. . . A white Pomeranian was trotting behind her./ . . .a white Pomeranian dog was running behind her."  Spitz or Pomeranian, no big deal--all three translators agree it was a small white dog.  And slight variation again in the verb choice and construction (I prefer 'trotting', which fits the tone of the seashore life).  But Pevear and Volokhonsky have made a rather serious syntactical choice:  to end the paragraph with the dog rather than with the woman. This is troublesome.  The story is not about the dog, but about the new woman who catches Gurov's eye and interest, and with whom he becomes entangled.  It leaves the sense the modern translators have not penetrated below the surface of the story, and are slightly lost, well, in the translation.  To be fair, the pair talk about their process of translation on a BBC interview "In Other Words" from CBC, podcast in 2007. It might be worth a look. Garnett has her own problems, noted by Joseph Brodsky, who said that non-speakers can't really tell the difference between Dostoevsky and Tolstoy "because they're not reading either one--they're reading Constance Garnett."   Maybe the take-away here is to shy away from very old and very new translations.

Sometimes we convince ourselves that the shoes we bought and are wearing fit well, that we are happy with them. But our feet have their own opinion – as does the mind's ear when we read.  If you feel a faraway but no less real discomfort, it might well be not you but the translation.