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diff --git a/913-h/913-h.htm b/913-h/913-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2e782d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/913-h/913-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9671 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + A Hero of Our Time, by J. H. Wisdom and Marr Murray + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Hero of Our Time, by M. Y. Lermontov + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Hero of Our Time + +Author: M. Y. Lermontov + +Release Date: July 21, 2008 [EBook #913] +Last Updated: November 10, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HERO OF OUR TIME *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + A HERO OF OUR TIME + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By J. H. Wisdom & Marr Murray + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated From The Russian Of M. Y. Lermontov + </h3> + <p> + <a name="link2H_FORE" id="link2H_FORE"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + FOREWORD + </h2> + <p> + THIS novel, known as one of the masterpieces of Russian Literature, under + the title “A Hero of our Time,” and already translated into at least nine + European languages, is now for the first time placed before the general + English Reader. + </p> + <p> + The work is of exceptional interest to the student of English Literature, + written as it was under the profound influence of Byron and being itself a + study of the Byronic type of character. + </p> + <p> + The Translators have taken especial care to preserve both the atmosphere + of the story and the poetic beauty with which the Poet-novelist imbued his + pages. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_FORE"> FOREWORD </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>BOOK I BELA</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#five"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> <b>BOOK II MAKSIM MAKSIMYCH</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_FORE2"> FOREWORD TO BOOKS III, IV, AND V </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> <b>BOOK III THE FIRST EXTRACT FROM PECHORIN’S + DIARY</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> TAMAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> <b>BOOK IV THE SECOND EXTRACT FROM PECHORIN’S + DIARY</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> <b>BOOK V THE THIRD EXTRACT FROM PECHORIN’S DIARY</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER I. 11th May. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER II. 13th May. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER III. 16th May. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER IV. 21st May. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER V. 29th May. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER VI. 30th May. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER VII. 6th June. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER VIII. 11th June. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER IX. 12th June. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER X. 13th June. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XI. 14th June. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XII. 15th June. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XIII. 18th June. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XIV. 22nd June. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XV. 24th June. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XVI. 25th June. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XVII. 26th June. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XVIII. 27th June. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_APPE"> APPENDIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> FOOTNOTES </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + BOOK I BELA + </h2> + <h3> + THE HEART OF A RUSSIAN + </h3> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + I was travelling post from Tiflis. + </p> + <p> + All the luggage I had in my cart consisted of one small portmanteau half + filled with travelling-notes on Georgia; of these the greater part has + been lost, fortunately for you; but the portmanteau itself and the rest of + its contents have remained intact, fortunately for me. + </p> + <p> + As I entered the Koishaur Valley the sun was disappearing behind the + snow-clad ridge of the mountains. In order to accomplish the ascent of + Mount Koishaur by nightfall, my driver, an Ossete, urged on the horses + indefatigably, singing zealously the while at the top of his voice. + </p> + <p> + What a glorious place that valley is! On every hand are inaccessible + mountains, steep, yellow slopes scored by water-channels, and reddish + rocks draped with green ivy and crowned with clusters of plane-trees. + Yonder, at an immense height, is the golden fringe of the snow. Down below + rolls the River Aragva, which, after bursting noisily forth from the dark + and misty depths of the gorge, with an unnamed stream clasped in its + embrace, stretches out like a thread of silver, its waters glistening like + a snake with flashing scales. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the foot of Mount Koishaur, we stopped at a dukhan. <a + href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" id="linknoteref-1"><small>1</small></a> + About a score of Georgians and mountaineers were gathered there in a noisy + crowd, and, close by, a caravan of camels had halted for the night. I was + obliged to hire oxen to drag my cart up that accursed mountain, as it was + now autumn and the roads were slippery with ice. Besides, the mountain is + about two versts <a href="#linknote-2" name="linknoteref-2" + id="linknoteref-2"><small>2</small></a> in length. + </p> + <p> + There was no help for it, so I hired six oxen and a few Ossetes. One of + the latter shouldered my portmanteau, and the rest, shouting almost with + one voice, proceeded to help the oxen. + </p> + <p> + Following mine there came another cart, which I was surprised to see four + oxen pulling with the greatest ease, notwithstanding that it was loaded to + the top. Behind it walked the owner, smoking a little, silver-mounted + Kabardian pipe. He was wearing a shaggy Circassian cap and an officer’s + overcoat without epaulettes, and he seemed to be about fifty years of age. + The swarthiness of his complexion showed that his face had long been + acquainted with Transcaucasian suns, and the premature greyness of his + moustache was out of keeping with his firm gait and robust appearance. I + went up to him and saluted. He silently returned my greeting and emitted + an immense cloud of smoke. + </p> + <p> + “We are fellow-travellers, it appears.” + </p> + <p> + Again he bowed silently. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you are going to Stavropol?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, exactly—with Government things.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell me how it is that that heavily-laden cart of yours is being + drawn without any difficulty by four oxen, whilst six cattle are scarcely + able to move mine, empty though it is, and with all those Ossetes + helping?” + </p> + <p> + He smiled slyly and threw me a meaning glance. + </p> + <p> + “You have not been in the Caucasus long, I should say?” + </p> + <p> + “About a year,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + He smiled a second time. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Just so, sir,” he answered. “They’re terrible beasts, these Asiatics! You + think that all that shouting means that they are helping the oxen? Why, + the devil alone can make out what it is they do shout. The oxen + understand, though; and if you were to yoke as many as twenty they still + wouldn’t budge so long as the Ossetes shouted in that way of theirs.... + Awful scoundrels! But what can you make of them? They love extorting money + from people who happen to be travelling through here. The rogues have been + spoiled! You wait and see: they will get a tip out of you as well as their + hire. I know them of old, they can’t get round me!” + </p> + <p> + “You have been serving here a long time?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was here under Aleksei Petrovich,” <a href="#linknote-3" + name="linknoteref-3" id="linknoteref-3"><small>3</small></a> he answered, + assuming an air of dignity. “I was a sub-lieutenant when he came to the + Line; and I was promoted twice, during his command, on account of actions + against the mountaineers.” + </p> + <p> + “And now—?” + </p> + <p> + “Now I’m in the third battalion of the Line. And you yourself?” + </p> + <p> + I told him. + </p> + <p> + With this the conversation ended, and we continued to walk in silence, + side by side. On the summit of the mountain we found snow. The sun set, + and—as usually is the case in the south—night followed upon + the day without any interval of twilight. Thanks, however, to the sheen of + the snow, we were able easily to distinguish the road, which still went up + the mountain-side, though not so steeply as before. I ordered the Ossetes + to put my portmanteau into the cart, and to replace the oxen by horses. + Then for the last time I gazed down upon the valley; but the thick mist + which had gushed in billows from the gorges veiled it completely, and not + a single sound now floated up to our ears from below. The Ossetes + surrounded me clamorously and demanded tips; but the staff-captain shouted + so menacingly at them that they dispersed in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “What a people they are!” he said. “They don’t even know the Russian for + ‘bread,’ but they have mastered the phrase ‘Officer, give us a tip!’ In my + opinion, the very Tartars are better, they are no drunkards, anyhow.”... + </p> + <p> + We were now within a verst or so of the Station. Around us all was still, + so still, indeed, that it was possible to follow the flight of a gnat by + the buzzing of its wings. On our left loomed the gorge, deep and black. + Behind it and in front of us rose the dark-blue summits of the mountains, + all trenched with furrows and covered with layers of snow, and standing + out against the pale horizon, which still retained the last reflections of + the evening glow. The stars twinkled out in the dark sky, and in some + strange way it seemed to me that they were much higher than in our own + north country. On both sides of the road bare, black rocks jutted out; + here and there shrubs peeped forth from under the snow; but not a single + withered leaf stirred, and amid that dead sleep of nature it was cheering + to hear the snorting of the three tired post-horses and the irregular + tinkling of the Russian bell. <a href="#linknote-4" name="linknoteref-4" + id="linknoteref-4"><small>4</small></a> + </p> + <p> + “We will have glorious weather to-morrow,” I said. + </p> + <p> + The staff-captain answered not a word, but pointed with his finger to a + lofty mountain which rose directly opposite us. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Mount Gut.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see how it is smoking?” + </p> + <p> + True enough, smoke was rising from Mount Gut. Over its sides gentle + cloud-currents were creeping, and on the summit rested one cloud of such + dense blackness that it appeared like a blot upon the dark sky. + </p> + <p> + By this time we were able to make out the Post Station and the roofs of + the huts surrounding it; the welcoming lights were twinkling before us, + when suddenly a damp and chilly wind arose, the gorge rumbled, and a + drizzling rain fell. I had scarcely time to throw my felt cloak round me + when down came the snow. I looked at the staff-captain with profound + respect. + </p> + <p> + “We shall have to pass the night here,” he said, vexation in his tone. + “There’s no crossing the mountains in such a blizzard.—I say, have + there been any avalanches on Mount Krestov?” he inquired of the driver. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” the Ossete answered; “but there are a great many threatening to + fall—a great many.” + </p> + <p> + Owing to the lack of a travellers’ room in the Station, we were assigned a + night’s lodging in a smoky hut. I invited my fellow-traveller to drink a + tumbler of tea with me, as I had brought my cast-iron teapot—my only + solace during my travels in the Caucasus. + </p> + <p> + One side of the hut was stuck against the cliff, and three wet and + slippery steps led up to the door. I groped my way in and stumbled up + against a cow (with these people the cow-house supplies the place of a + servant’s room). I did not know which way to turn—sheep were + bleating on the one hand and a dog growling on the other. Fortunately, + however, I perceived on one side a faint glimmer of light, and by its aid + I was able to find another opening by way of a door. And here a by no + means uninteresting picture was revealed. The wide hut, the roof of which + rested on two smoke-grimed pillars, was full of people. In the centre of + the floor a small fire was crackling, and the smoke, driven back by the + wind from an opening in the roof, was spreading around in so thick a + shroud that for a long time I was unable to see about me. Seated by the + fire were two old women, a number of children and a lank Georgian—all + of them in tatters. There was no help for it! We took refuge by the fire + and lighted our pipes; and soon the teapot was singing invitingly. + </p> + <p> + “Wretched people, these!” I said to the staff-captain, indicating our + dirty hosts, who were silently gazing at us in a kind of torpor. + </p> + <p> + “And an utterly stupid people too!” he replied. “Would you believe it, + they are absolutely ignorant and incapable of the slightest civilisation! + Why even our Kabardians or Chechenes, robbers and ragamuffins though they + be, are regular dare-devils for all that. Whereas these others have no + liking for arms, and you’ll never see a decent dagger on one of them! + Ossetes all over!” + </p> + <p> + “You have been a long time in the Chechenes’ country?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was quartered there for about ten years along with my company in a + fortress, near Kamennyi Brod. <a href="#linknote-5" name="linknoteref-5" + id="linknoteref-5"><small>5</small></a> Do you know the place?” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard the name.” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you, my boy, we had quite enough of those dare-devil + Chechenes. At the present time, thank goodness, things are quieter; but in + the old days you had only to put a hundred paces between you and the + rampart and wherever you went you would be sure to find a shaggy devil + lurking in wait for you. You had just to let your thoughts wander and at + any moment a lasso would be round your neck or a bullet in the back of + your head! Brave fellows, though!”... + </p> + <p> + “You used to have many an adventure, I dare say?” I said, spurred by + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Of course! Many a one.”... + </p> + <p> + Hereupon he began to tug at his left moustache, let his head sink on to + his breast, and became lost in thought. I had a very great mind to extract + some little anecdote out of him—a desire natural to all who travel + and make notes. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, tea was ready. I took two travelling-tumblers out of my + portmanteau, and, filling one of them, set it before the staff-captain. He + sipped his tea and said, as if speaking to himself, “Yes, many a one!” + This exclamation gave me great hopes. Your old Caucasian officer loves, I + know, to talk and yarn a bit; he so rarely succeeds in getting a chance to + do so. It may be his fate to be quartered five years or so with his + company in some out-of-the-way place, and during the whole of that time he + will not hear “good morning” from a soul (because the sergeant says “good + health”). And, indeed, he would have good cause to wax loquacious—with + a wild and interesting people all around him, danger to be faced every + day, and many a marvellous incident happening. It is in circumstances like + this that we involuntarily complain that so few of our countrymen take + notes. + </p> + <p> + “Would you care to put some rum in your tea?” I said to my companion. “I + have some white rum with me—from Tiflis; and the weather is cold + now.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, sir; I don’t drink.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “Just so. I have sworn off drinking. Once, you know, when I was a + sub-lieutenant, some of us had a drop too much. That very night there was + an alarm, and out we went to the front, half seas over! We did catch it, I + can tell you, when Aleksei Petrovich came to hear about us! Heaven save + us, what a rage he was in! He was within an ace of having us + court-martialled. That’s just how things happen! You might easily spend a + whole year without seeing a soul; but just go and have a drop and you’re a + lost man!” + </p> + <p> + On hearing this I almost lost hope. + </p> + <p> + “Take the Circassians, now,” he continued; “once let them drink their fill + of buza <a href="#linknote-6" name="linknoteref-6" id="linknoteref-6"><small>6</small></a> + at a wedding or a funeral, and out will come their knives. On one occasion + I had some difficulty in getting away with a whole skin, and yet it was at + the house of a ‘friendly’ <a href="#linknote-7" name="linknoteref-7" + id="linknoteref-7"><small>7</small></a> prince, where I was a guest, that + the affair happened.” + </p> + <p> + “How was that?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Here, I’ll tell you.”... + </p> + <p> + He filled his pipe, drew in the smoke, and began his story. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + “YOU see, sir,” said the staff-captain, “I was quartered, at the time, + with a company in a fortress beyond the Terek—getting on for five + years ago now. One autumn day, a transport arrived with provisions, in + charge of an officer, a young man of about twenty-five. He reported + himself to me in full uniform, and announced that he had been ordered to + remain in the fortress with me. He was so very elegant, his complexion so + nice and white, his uniform so brand new, that I immediately guessed that + he had not been long with our army in the Caucasus. + </p> + <p> + “‘I suppose you have been transferred from Russia?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + “‘Exactly, captain,’ he answered. + </p> + <p> + “I took him by the hand and said: + </p> + <p> + “‘I’m delighted to see you—delighted! It will be a bit dull for + you... but there, we will live together like a couple of friends. But, + please, call me simply “Maksim Maksimych”; and, tell me, what is this full + uniform for? Just wear your forage-cap whenever you come to me!’ + </p> + <p> + “Quarters were assigned to him and he settled down in the fortress.” + </p> + <p> + “What was his name?” I asked Maksim Maksimych. + </p> + <p> + “His name was Grigori Aleksandrovich Pechorin. He was a splendid fellow, I + can assure you, but a little peculiar. Why, to give you an instance, one + time he would stay out hunting the whole day, in the rain and cold; the + others would all be frozen through and tired out, but he wouldn’t mind + either cold or fatigue. Then, another time, he would be sitting in his own + room, and, if there was a breath of wind, he would declare that he had + caught cold; if the shutters rattled against the window he would start and + turn pale: yet I myself have seen him attack a boar single-handed. Often + enough you couldn’t drag a word out of him for hours together; but then, + on the other hand, sometimes, when he started telling stories, you would + split your sides with laughing. Yes, sir, a very eccentric man; and he + must have been wealthy too. What a lot of expensive trinkets he had!”... + </p> + <p> + “Did he stay there long with you?” I went on to ask. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, about a year. And, for that very reason, it was a memorable year to + me. He gave me a great deal of trouble—but there, let bygones be + bygones!... You see, it is true enough, there are people like that, fated + from birth to have all sorts of strange things happening to them!” + </p> + <p> + “Strange?” I exclaimed, with an air of curiosity, as I poured out some + tea. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + “WELL, then, I’ll tell you,” said Maksim Maksimych. “About six versts from + the fortress there lived a certain ‘friendly’ prince. His son, a brat of + about fifteen, was accustomed to ride over to visit us. Not a day passed + but he would come, now for one thing, now for another. And, indeed, + Grigori Aleksandrovich and I spoiled him. What a dare-devil the boy was! + Up to anything, picking up a cap at full gallop, or bringing things down + with his gun! He had one bad quality; he was terribly greedy for money. + Once, for the fun of the thing, Grigori Aleksandrovich promised to give + him a ducat if he would steal the best he-goat from his father’s herd for + him; and, what do you think? The very next night he came lugging it in by + the horns! At times we used to take it into our heads to tease him, and + then his eyes would become bloodshot and his hand would fly to his dagger + immediately. + </p> + <p> + “‘You’ll be losing your life if you are not careful, Azamat,’ I would say + to him. ‘That hot head of yours will get you into trouble.’ + </p> + <p> + “On one occasion, the old prince himself came to invite us to the wedding + of his eldest daughter; and, as we were guest-friends with him, it was + impossible to decline, Tartar though he was. We set off. In the village we + were met by a number of dogs, all barking loudly. The women, when they saw + us coming, hid themselves, but those whose faces we were able to get a + view of were far from being beauties. + </p> + <p> + “‘I had a much better opinion of the Circassian women,’ remarked Grigori + Aleksandrovich. + </p> + <p> + “‘Wait a bit!’ I answered, with a smile; I had my own views on the + subject. + </p> + <p> + “A number of people had already gathered at the prince’s hut. It is the + custom of the Asiatics, you know, to invite all and sundry to a wedding. + We were received with every mark of honour and conducted to the + guest-chamber. All the same, I did not forget quietly to mark where our + horses were put, in case anything unforeseen should happen.” + </p> + <p> + “How are weddings celebrated amongst them?” I asked the staff-captain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, in the usual way. First of all, the Mullah reads them something out + of the Koran; then gifts are bestowed upon the young couple and all their + relations; the next thing is eating and drinking of buza, then the dance + on horseback; and there is always some ragamuffin, bedaubed with grease, + bestriding a wretched, lame jade, and grimacing, buffooning, and making + the worshipful company laugh. Finally, when darkness falls, they proceed + to hold what we should call a ball in the guest-chamber. A poor, old + greybeard strums on a three-stringed instrument—I forget what they + call it, but anyhow, it is something in the nature of our balalaika. <a + href="#linknote-8" name="linknoteref-8" id="linknoteref-8"><small>8</small></a> + The girls and young children set themselves in two ranks, one opposite the + other, and clap their hands and sing. Then a girl and a man come out into + the centre and begin to chant verses to each other—whatever comes + into their heads—and the rest join in as a chorus. Pechorin and I + sat in the place of honour. All at once up came our host’s youngest + daughter, a girl of about sixteen, and chanted to Pechorin—how shall + I put it?—something in the nature of a compliment.”... + </p> + <p> + “What was it she sang—do you remember?” + </p> + <p> + “It went like this, I fancy: ‘Handsome, they say, are our young horsemen, + and the tunics they wear are garnished with silver; but handsomer still is + the young Russian officer, and the lace on his tunic is wrought of gold. + Like a poplar amongst them he stands, but in gardens of ours such trees + will grow not nor bloom!’ + </p> + <p> + “Pechorin rose, bowed to her, put his hand to his forehead and heart, and + asked me to answer her. I know their language well, and I translated his + reply. + </p> + <p> + “When she had left us I whispered to Grigori Aleksandrovich: + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, now, what do you think of her?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Charming!’ he replied. ‘What is her name?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Her name is Bela,’ I answered. + </p> + <p> + “And a beautiful girl she was indeed; her figure was tall and slender, her + eyes black as those of a mountain chamois, and they fairly looked into + your soul. Pechorin, deep in thought, kept his gaze fixed upon her, and + she, for her part, stole glances at him often enough from under her + lashes. Pechorin, however, was not the only one who was admiring the + pretty princess; another pair of eyes, fixed and fiery, were gazing at her + from the corner of the room. I took a good look at their owner, and + recognised my old acquaintance Kazbich, who, you must know, was neither + exactly ‘friendly’ nor yet the other thing. He was an object of much + suspicion, although he had never actually been caught at any knavery. He + used to bring rams to our fortress and sell them cheaply; only he never + would haggle; whatever he demanded at first you had to give. He would have + his throat cut rather than come down in price. He had the reputation of + being fond of roaming on the far side of the Kuban with the Abreks; and, + to tell the truth, he had a regular thief’s visage. A little, wizened, + broad-shouldered fellow he was—but smart, I can tell you, smart as + the very devil! His tunic was always worn out and patched, but his weapons + were mounted in silver. His horse was renowned throughout Kabardia—and, + indeed, a better one it would be impossible to imagine! Not without good + reason did all the other horsemen envy Kazbich, and on more than one + occasion they had attempted to steal the horse, but they had never + succeeded. I seem to see the animal before me now—black as coal, + with legs like bow-strings and eyes as fine as Bela’s! How strong he was + too! He would gallop as much as fifty versts at a stretch! And he was well + trained besides—he would trot behind his master like a dog, and + actually knew his voice! Kazbich never used to tether him either—just + the very horse for a robber!... + </p> + <p> + “On that evening Kazbich was more sullen than ever, and I noticed that he + was wearing a coat of mail under his tunic. ‘He hasn’t got that coat of + mail on for nothing,’ I thought. ‘He has some plot in his head, I’ll be + bound!’ + </p> + <p> + “It grew oppressively hot in the hut, and I went out into the air to cool + myself. Night had fallen upon the mountains, and a mist was beginning to + creep along the gorges. + </p> + <p> + “It occurred to me to pop in under the shed where our horses were + standing, to see whether they had their fodder; and, besides, it is never + any harm to take precautions. My horse was a splendid one too, and more + than one Kabardian had already cast fond glances at it, repeating at the + same time: ‘Yakshi tkhe chok yakshi.’ <a href="#linknote-9" + name="linknoteref-9" id="linknoteref-9"><small>9</small></a> + </p> + <p> + “I stole along the fence. Suddenly I heard voices, one of which I + immediately recognised. + </p> + <p> + “It was that of the young pickle, Azamat, our host’s son. The other person + spoke less and in a quieter tone. + </p> + <p> + “‘What are they discussing there?’ I wondered. ‘Surely it can’t be my + horse!’ I squatted down beside the fence and proceeded to play the + eavesdropper, trying not to let slip a single word. At times the noise of + songs and the buzz of voices, escaping from the hut, drowned the + conversation which I was finding interesting. + </p> + <p> + “‘That’s a splendid horse of yours,’ Azamat was saying. ‘If I were master + of a house of my own and had a stud of three hundred mares, I would give + half of it for your galloper, Kazbich!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Aha! Kazbich!’ I said to myself, and I called to mind the coat of mail. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ replied Kazbich, after an interval of silence. ‘There is not such + another to be found in all Kabardia. Once—it was on the other side + of the Terek—I had ridden with the Abreks to seize the Russian + herds. We had no luck, so we scattered in different directions. Four + Cossacks dashed after me. I could actually hear the cries of the giaours + behind me, and in front of me there was a dense forest. I crouched down in + the saddle, committed myself to Allah, and, for the first time in my life, + insulted my horse with a blow of the whip. Like a bird, he plunged among + the branches; the sharp thorns tore my clothing, the dead boughs of the + cork-elms struck against my face! My horse leaped over tree-trunks and + burst his way through bushes with his chest! It would have been better for + me to have abandoned him at the outskirts of the forest and concealed + myself in it afoot, but it was a pity to part with him—and the + Prophet rewarded me. A few bullets whistled over my head. I could now hear + the Cossacks, who had dismounted, running upon my tracks. Suddenly a deep + gully opened before me. My galloper took thought—and leaped. His + hind hoofs slipped back off the opposite bank, and he remained hanging by + his fore-feet. I dropped the bridle and threw myself into the hollow, + thereby saving my horse, which jumped out. The Cossacks saw the whole + scene, only not one of them got down to search for me, thinking probably + that I had mortally injured myself; and I heard them rushing to catch my + horse. My heart bled within me. I crept along the hollow through the thick + grass—then I looked around: it was the end of the forest. A few + Cossacks were riding out from it on to the clearing, and there was my + Karagyoz <a href="#linknote-10" name="linknoteref-10" id="linknoteref-10"><small>10</small></a> + galloping straight towards them. With a shout they all dashed forward. For + a long, long time they pursued him, and one of them, in particular, was + once or twice almost successful in throwing a lasso over his neck. + </p> + <p> + “I trembled, dropped my eyes, and began to pray. After a few moments I + looked up again, and there was my Karagyoz flying along, his tail waving—free + as the wind; and the giaours, on their jaded horses, were trailing along + far behind, one after another, across the steppe. Wallah! It is true—really + true! Till late at night I lay in the hollow. Suddenly—what do you + think, Azamat? I heard in the darkness a horse trotting along the bank of + the hollow, snorting, neighing, and beating the ground with his hoofs. I + recognised my Karagyoz’s voice; ‘twas he, my comrade!”... Since that time + we have never been parted!’ + </p> + <p> + “And I could hear him patting his galloper’s sleek neck with his hand, as + he called him various fond names. + </p> + <p> + “‘If I had a stud of a thousand mares,’ said Azamat, ‘I would give it all + for your Karagyoz!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yok! <a href="#linknote-11" name="linknoteref-11" id="linknoteref-11"><small>11</small></a> + I would not take it!’ said Kazbich indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “‘Listen, Kazbich,’ said Azamat, trying to ingratiate himself with him. + ‘You are a kindhearted man, you are a brave horseman, but my father is + afraid of the Russians and will not allow me to go on the mountains. Give + me your horse, and I will do anything you wish. I will steal my father’s + best rifle for you, or his sabre—just as you like—and his + sabre is a genuine Gurda; <a href="#linknote-12" name="linknoteref-12" + id="linknoteref-12"><small>12</small></a> you have only to lay the edge + against your hand, and it will cut you; a coat of mail like yours is + nothing against it.’ + </p> + <p> + “Kazbich remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “‘The first time I saw your horse,’ continued Azamat, ‘when he was + wheeling and leaping under you, his nostrils distended, and the flints + flying in showers from under his hoofs, something I could not understand + took place within my soul; and since that time I have been weary of + everything. I have looked with disdain on my father’s best gallopers; I + have been ashamed to be seen on them, and yearning has taken possession of + me. In my anguish I have spent whole days on the cliffs, and, every + minute, my thoughts have kept turning to your black galloper with his + graceful gait and his sleek back, straight as an arrow. With his keen, + bright eyes he has looked into mine as if about to speak!... I shall die, + Kazbich, if you will not sell him to me!’ said Azamat, with trembling + voice. + </p> + <p> + “I could hear him burst out weeping, and I must tell you that Azamat was a + very stubborn lad, and that not for anything could tears be wrung from + him, even when he was a little younger. + </p> + <p> + “In answer to his tears, I could hear something like a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “‘Listen,’ said Azamat in a firm voice. ‘You see, I am making up my mind + for anything. If you like, I will steal my sister for you! How she dances! + How she sings! And the way she embroiders with gold—marvellous! Not + even a Turkish Padishah <a href="#linknote-13" name="linknoteref-13" + id="linknoteref-13"><small>13</small></a> has had a wife like her!... + Shall I? Wait for me to-morrow night, yonder, in the gorge where the + torrent flows; I will go by with her to the neighbouring village—and + she is yours. Surely Bela is worth your galloper!’ + </p> + <p> + “Kazbich remained silent for a long, long time. At length, instead of + answering, he struck up in an undertone the ancient song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Many a beauty among us dwells + + From whose eyes’ dark depths the starlight wells, + + ‘Tis an envied lot and sweet, to hold + + Their love; but brighter is freedom bold. + + Four wives are yours if you pay the gold; + + But a mettlesome steed is of price untold; + + The whirlwind itself on the steppe is less fleet; + + He knows no treachery—no deceit.” <a href="#linknote-14" + name="linknoteref-14" id="linknoteref-14">14</a> +</pre> + <p> + “In vain Azamat entreated him to consent. He wept, coaxed, and swore to + him. Finally, Kazbich interrupted him impatiently: + </p> + <p> + “‘Begone, you crazy brat! How should you think to ride on my horse? In + three steps you would be thrown and your neck broken on the stones!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I?’ cried Azamat in a fury, and the blade of the child’s dagger rang + against the coat of mail. A powerful arm thrust him away, and he struck + the wattle fence with such violence that it rocked. + </p> + <p> + “‘Now we’ll see some fun!’ I thought to myself. + </p> + <p> + “I rushed into the stable, bridled our horses and led them out into the + back courtyard. In a couple of minutes there was a terrible uproar in the + hut. What had happened was this: Azamat had rushed in, with his tunic + torn, saying that Kazbich was going to murder him. All sprang out, seized + their guns, and the fun began! Noise—shouts—shots! But by this + time Kazbich was in the saddle, and, wheeling among the crowd along the + street, defended himself like a madman, brandishing his sabre. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is a bad thing to interfere in other people’s quarrels,’ I said to + Grigori Aleksandrovich, taking him by the arm. ‘Wouldn’t it be better for + us to clear off without loss of time?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Wait, though, and see how it will end!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, as to that, it will be sure enough to end badly; it is always so + with these Asiatics. Once let them get drunk on buza, and there’s certain + to be bloodshed.’ + </p> + <p> + “We mounted and galloped home.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + “TELL me, what became of Kazbich?” I asked the staff-captain impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what can happen to that sort of a fellow?” he answered, finishing + his tumbler of tea. “He slipped away, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “And wasn’t he wounded?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness only knows! Those scoundrels take a lot of killing! In action, + for instance, I’ve seen many a one, sir, stuck all over with bayonets like + a sieve, and still brandishing his sabre.” + </p> + <p> + After an interval of silence the staff-captain continued, tapping the + ground with his foot: + </p> + <p> + “One thing I’ll never forgive myself for. On our arrival at the fortress + the devil put it into my head to repeat to Grigori Aleksandrovich all that + I had heard when I was eavesdropping behind the fence. He laughed—cunning + fellow!—and thought out a little plan of his own.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that? Tell me, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there’s no help for it now, I suppose. I’ve begun the story, and so + I must continue. + </p> + <p> + “In about four days’ time Azamat rode over to the fortress. As his usual + custom was, he went to see Grigori Aleksandrovich, who always used to give + him sweetmeats to eat. I was present. The conversation was on the subject + of horses, and Pechorin began to sound the praises of Kazbich’s Karagyoz. + What a mettlesome horse it was, and how handsome! A perfect chamois! In + fact, judging by his account, there simply wasn’t another like it in the + whole world! + </p> + <p> + “The young Tartar’s beady eyes began to sparkle, but Pechorin didn’t seem + to notice the fact. I started to talk about something else, but + immediately, mark you, Pechorin caused the conversation to strike off on + to Kazbich’s horse. Every time that Azamat came it was the same story. + After about three weeks, I began to observe that Azamat was growing pale + and wasted, just as people in novels do from love, sir. What wonder + either!... + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, it was not until afterwards that I learned the whole trick—Grigori + Aleksandrovich exasperated Azamat to such an extent with his teasing that + the boy was ready even to drown himself. One day Pechorin suddenly broke + out with: + </p> + <p> + “‘I see, Azamat, that you have taken a desperate fancy to that horse of + Kazbich’s, but you’ll no more see him than you will the back of your neck! + Come, tell me, what would you give if somebody made you a present of him?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Anything he wanted,’ answered Azamat. + </p> + <p> + “‘In that case I will get the horse for you, only on one condition... + Swear that you will fulfil it?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I swear. You swear too!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Very well! I swear that the horse shall be yours. But, in return, you + must deliver your sister Bela into my hands. Karagyoz shall be her + bridegroom’s gift. I hope the transaction will be a profitable one for + you.’ + </p> + <p> + “Azamat remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “‘Won’t you? Well, just as you like! I thought you were a man, but it + seems you are still a child; it is early for you to be riding on + horseback!’ + </p> + <p> + “Azamat fired up. + </p> + <p> + “‘But my father—’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “‘Does he never go away, then?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘True.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You agree?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I agree,’ whispered Azamat, pale as death. ‘But when?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘The first time Kazbich rides over here. He has promised to drive in half + a score of rams; the rest is my affair. Look out, then, Azamat!’ + </p> + <p> + “And so they settled the business—a bad business, to tell the truth! + I said as much to Pechorin afterwards, but he only answered that a wild + Circassian girl ought to consider herself fortunate in having such a + charming husband as himself—because, according to their ideas, he + really was her husband—and that Kazbich was a scoundrel, and ought + to be punished. Judge for yourself, what could I say to that?... At the + time, however, I knew nothing of their conspiracy. Well, one day Kazbich + rode up and asked whether we needed any rams and honey; and I ordered him + to bring some the next day. + </p> + <p> + “‘Azamat!’ said Grigori Aleksandrovich; ‘to-morrow Karagyoz will be in my + hands; if Bela is not here to-night you will never see the horse.’.. + </p> + <p> + “‘Very well,’ said Azamat, and galloped to the village. + </p> + <p> + “In the evening Grigori Aleksandrovich armed himself and rode out of the + fortress. How they settled the business I don’t know, but at night they + both returned, and the sentry saw that across Azamat’s saddle a woman was + lying, bound hand and foot and with her head wrapped in a veil.” + </p> + <p> + “And the horse?” I asked the staff-captain. + </p> + <p> + “One minute! One minute! Early next morning Kazbich rode over, driving in + half a score of rams for sale. Tethering his horse by the fence, he came + in to see me, and I regaled him with tea, for, robber though he was, he + was none the less my guest-friend. + </p> + <p> + “We began to chat about one thing and another... Suddenly I saw Kazbich + start, change countenance, and dart to the window; but unfortunately the + window looked on to the back courtyard. + </p> + <p> + “‘What is the matter with you?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + “‘My horse!... My horse!’ he cried, all of a tremble. + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of fact I heard the clattering of hoofs. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is probably some Cossack who has ridden up.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No! Urus—yaman, yaman!’ <a href="#linknote-151" + name="linknoteref-151" id="linknoteref-151"><small>151</small></a> he + roared, and rushed headlong away like a wild panther. In two bounds he was + in the courtyard; at the gate of the fortress the sentry barred the way + with his gun; Kazbich jumped over the gun and dashed off at a run along + the road... Dust was whirling in the distance—Azamat was galloping + away on the mettlesome Karagyoz. Kazbich, as he ran, tore his gun out of + its cover and fired. For a moment he remained motionless, until he had + assured himself that he had missed. Then he uttered a shrill cry, knocked + the gun against a rock, smashed it to splinters, fell to the ground, and + burst out sobbing like a child... The people from the fortress gathered + round him, but he took no notice of anyone. They stood there talking + awhile and then went back. I ordered the money for the rams to be placed + beside him. He didn’t touch it, but lay with his face to the ground like a + dead man. Would you believe it? He remained lying like that throughout the + rest of that day and the following night! It was only on the next morning + that he came to the fortress and proceeded to ask that the name of the + thief should be told him. The sentry who had observed Azamat untying the + horse and galloping away on him did not see any necessity for concealment. + At the name of Azamat, Kazbich’s eyes flashed, and he set off to the + village where Azamat’s father lived.” + </p> + <p> +“And what about the father?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that was where the trick came in! Kazbich could not find him; he had + gone away somewhere for five or six days; otherwise, how could Azamat have + succeeded in carrying off Bela? + </p> + <p> + “And, when the father returned, there was neither daughter nor son to be + found. A wily rogue, Azamat! He understood, you see, that he would lose + his life if he was caught. So, from that time, he was never seen again; + probably he joined some gang of Abreks and laid down his turbulent life on + the other side of the Terek or the Kuban. It would have served him + right!”... + </p> + + +<p> + <a name="five" id="five"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + “I CONFESS that, for my part, I had trouble enough over the business. So + soon as ever I learned that the Circassian girl was with Grigori + Aleksandrovich, I put on my epaulettes and sword and went to see him. + </p> + <p> + “He was lying on the bed in the outer room, with one hand under his head + and the other holding a pipe which had gone out. The door leading to the + inner room was locked, and there was no key in the lock. I observed all + that in a moment... I coughed and rapped my heels against the threshold, + but he pretended not to hear. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ensign!’ I said, as sternly as I could. ‘Do you not see that I have come + to you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah, good morning, Maksim Maksimych! Won’t you have a pipe?’ he answered, + without rising. + </p> + <p> + “‘Excuse me, I am not Maksim Maksimych. I am the staff-captain.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s all the same! Won’t you have some tea? If you only knew how I am + being tortured with anxiety.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I know all,’ I answered, going up to the bed. + </p> + <p> + “‘So much the better,’ he said. ‘I am not in a narrative mood.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ensign, you have committed an offence for which I may have to answer as + well as you.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, that’ll do. What’s the harm? You know, we’ve gone halves in + everything.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What sort of a joke do you think you are playing? Your sword, + please!’... + </p> + <p> + “‘Mitka, my sword!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Mitka brought the sword. My duty discharged, I sat down on the bed, + facing Pechorin, and said: ‘Listen here, Grigori Aleksandrovich, you must + admit that this is a bad business.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What is?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why, that you have carried off Bela... Ah, it is that beast Azamat!... + Come, confess!’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘But, supposing I am fond of her?’... + </p> + <p> + “Well, what could I say to that?... I was nonplussed. After a short + interval of silence, however, I told him that if Bela’s father were to + claim her he would have to give her up. + </p> + <p> + “‘Not at all!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But he will get to know that she is here.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘How?’ + </p> + <p> + “Again I was nonplussed. + </p> + <p> + “‘Listen, Maksim Maksimych,’ said Pechorin, rising to his feet. ‘You’re a + kind-hearted man, you know; but, if we give that savage back his daughter, + he will cut her throat or sell her. The deed is done, and the only thing + we can do now is not to go out of our way to spoil matters. Leave Bela + with me and keep my sword!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Show her to me, though,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘She is behind that door. Only I wanted, myself, to see her to-day and + wasn’t able to. She sits in the corner, muffled in her veil, and neither + speaks nor looks up—timid as a wild chamois! I have hired the wife + of our dukhan-keeper: she knows the Tartar language, and will look after + Bela and accustom her to the idea that she belongs to me—for she + shall belong to no one else!’ he added, banging his fist on the table. + </p> + <p> + “I assented to that too... What could I do? There are some people with + whom you absolutely have to agree.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” I asked Maksim Maksimych. “Did he really succeed in making her + grow accustomed to him, or did she pine away in captivity from + home-sickness?” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious! how could she pine away from home-sickness? From the + fortress she could see the very same hills as she could from the village—and + these savages require nothing more. Besides, Grigori Aleksandrovich used + to give her a present of some kind every day. At first she didn’t utter a + word, but haughtily thrust away the gifts, which then fell to the lot of + the dukhan-keeper’s wife and aroused her eloquence. Ah, presents! What + won’t a woman do for a coloured rag!... But that is by the way... For a + long time Grigori Aleksandrovich persevered with her, and meanwhile he + studied the Tartar language and she began to understand ours. Little by + little she grew accustomed to looking at him, at first furtively, askance; + but she still pined and crooned her songs in an undertone, so that even I + would feel heavy at heart when I heard her from the next room. One scene I + shall never forget: I was walking past, and I looked in at the window; + Bela was sitting on the stove-couch, her head sunk on her breast, and + Grigori Aleksandrovich was standing, facing her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Listen, my Peri,’ he was saying. ‘Surely you know that you will have to + be mine sooner or later—why, then, do you but torture me? Is it that + you are in love with some Chechene? If so, I will let you go home at + once.’ + </p> + <p> + “She gave a scarcely perceptible start and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “‘Or is it,’ he continued, ‘that I am utterly hateful to you?’ + </p> + <p> + “She heaved a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “‘Or that your faith prohibits you from giving me a little of your love?’ + </p> + <p> + “She turned pale and remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “‘Believe me, Allah is one and the same for all races; and, if he permits + me to love you, why, then, should he prohibit you from requiting me by + returning my love?’ + </p> + <p> + “She gazed fixedly into his face, as though struck by that new idea. + Distrust and a desire to be convinced were expressed in her eyes. What + eyes they were! They sparkled just like two glowing coals. + </p> + <p> + “‘Listen, my dear, good Bela!’ continued Pechorin. ‘You see how I love + you. I am ready to give up everything to make you cheerful once more. I + want you to be happy, and, if you are going to be sad again, I shall die. + Tell me, you will be more cheerful?’ + </p> + <p> + “She fell into thought, her black eyes still fixed upon him. Then she + smiled graciously and nodded her head in token of acquiescence. + </p> + <p> + “He took her by the hand and tried to induce her to kiss him. She defended + herself feebly, and only repeated: ‘Please! Please! You mustn’t, you + mustn’t!’ + </p> + <p> + “He went on to insist; she began to tremble and weep. + </p> + <p> + “‘I am your captive,’ she said, ‘your slave; of course, you can compel + me.’ + </p> + <p> + “And then, again—tears. + </p> + <p> + “Grigori Aleksandrovich struck his forehead with his fist and sprang into + the other room. I went in to see him, and found him walking moodily + backwards and forwards with folded arms. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, old man?’ I said to him. + </p> + <p> + “‘She is a devil—not a woman!’ he answered. ‘But I give you my word + of honour that she shall be mine!’ + </p> + <p> + “I shook my head. + </p> + <p> + “‘Will you bet with me?’ he said. ‘In a week’s time?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Very well,’ I answered. + </p> + <p> + “We shook hands on it and separated. + </p> + <p> + “The next day he immediately despatched an express messenger to Kizlyar to + purchase some things for him. The messenger brought back a quite + innumerable quantity of various Persian stuffs. + </p> + <p> + “‘What think you, Maksim Maksimych?’ he said to me, showing the presents. + ‘Will our Asiatic beauty hold out against such a battery as this?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You don’t know the Circassian women,’ I answered. ‘They are not at all + the same as the Georgian or the Transcaucasian Tartar women—not at + all! They have their own principles, they are brought up differently.’ + </p> + <p> + “Grigori Aleksandrovich smiled and began to whistle a march to himself.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + “AS things fell out, however,” continued Maksim Maksimych, “I was right, + you see. The presents produced only half an effect. She became more + gracious more trustful—but that was all. Pechorin accordingly + determined upon a last expedient. One morning he ordered his horse to be + saddled, dressed himself as a Circassian, armed himself, and went into her + room. + </p> + <p> + “‘Bela,’ he said. ‘You know how I love you. I decided to carry you off, + thinking that when you grew to know me you would give me your love. I was + mistaken. Farewell! Remain absolute mistress of all I possess. Return to + your father if you like—you are free. I have acted wrongfully + towards you, and I must punish myself. Farewell! I am going. Whither?—How + should I know? Perchance I shall not have long to court the bullet or the + sabre-stroke. Then remember me and forgive.’ + </p> + <p> + “He turned away, and stretched out his hand to her in farewell. She did + not take his hand, but remained silent. But I, standing there behind the + door, was able through a chink to observe her countenance, and I felt + sorry for her—such a deathly pallor shrouded that charming little + face! Hearing no answer, Pechorin took a few steps towards the door. He + was trembling, and—shall I tell you?—I think that he was in a + state to perform in very fact what he had been saying in jest! He was just + that sort of man, Heaven knows! + </p> + <p> + “He had scarcely touched the door, however, when Bela sprang to her feet, + burst out sobbing, and threw herself on his neck! Would you believe it? I, + standing there behind the door, fell to weeping too, that is to say, you + know, not exactly weeping—but just—well, something foolish!” + </p> + <p> + The staff-captain became silent. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I confess,” he said after a while, tugging at his moustache, “I felt + hurt that not one woman had ever loved me like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Was their happiness lasting?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she admitted that, from the day she had first cast eyes on Pechorin, + she had often dreamed of him, and that no other man had ever produced such + an impression upon her. Yes, they were happy!” + </p> + <p> + “How tiresome!” I exclaimed, involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + In point of fact, I had been expecting a tragic ending—when, lo! he + must needs disappoint my hopes in such an unexpected manner!... + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible, though,” I continued, “that her father did not guess that + she was with you in the fortress?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you must know, he seems to have had his suspicions. After a few + days, we learned that the old man had been murdered. This is how it + happened.”... + </p> + <p> + My attention was aroused anew. + </p> + <p> + “I must tell you that Kazbich imagined that the horse had been stolen by + Azamat with his father’s consent; at any rate, that is what I suppose. So, + one day, Kazbich went and waited by the roadside, about three versts + beyond the village. The old man was returning from one of his futile + searches for his daughter; his retainers were lagging behind. It was dusk. + Deep in thought, he was riding at a walking pace when, suddenly, Kazbich + darted out like a cat from behind a bush, sprang up behind him on the + horse, flung him to the ground with a thrust of his dagger, seized the + bridle and was off. A few of the retainers saw the whole affair from the + hill; they dashed off in pursuit of Kazbich, but failed to overtake him.” + </p> + <p> + “He requited himself for the loss of his horse, and took his revenge at + the same time,” I said, with a view to evoking my companion’s opinion. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, from their point of view,” said the staff-captain, “he was + perfectly right.” + </p> + <p> + I was involuntarily struck by the aptitude which the Russian displays for + accommodating himself to the customs of the people in whose midst he + happens to be living. I know not whether this mental quality is deserving + of censure or commendation, but it proves the incredible pliancy of his + mind and the presence of that clear common sense which pardons evil + wherever it sees that evil is inevitable or impossible of annihilation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + IN the meantime we had finished our tea. The horses, which had been put to + long before, were freezing in the snow. In the west the moon was growing + pale, and was just on the point of plunging into the black clouds which + were hanging over the distant summits like the shreds of a torn curtain. + We went out of the hut. Contrary to my fellow-traveller’s prediction, the + weather had cleared up, and there was a promise of a calm morning. The + dancing choirs of the stars were interwoven in wondrous patterns on the + distant horizon, and, one after another, they flickered out as the wan + resplendence of the east suffused the dark, lilac vault of heaven, + gradually illumining the steep mountain slopes, covered with the virgin + snows. To right and left loomed grim and mysterious chasms, and masses of + mist, eddying and coiling like snakes, were creeping thither along the + furrows of the neighbouring cliffs, as though sentient and fearful of the + approach of day. + </p> + <p> + All was calm in heaven and on earth, calm as within the heart of a man at + the moment of morning prayer; only at intervals a cool wind rushed in from + the east, lifting the horses’ manes which were covered with hoar-frost. We + started off. The five lean jades dragged our wagons with difficulty along + the tortuous road up Mount Gut. We ourselves walked behind, placing stones + under the wheels whenever the horses were spent. The road seemed to lead + into the sky, for, so far as the eye could discern, it still mounted up + and up, until finally it was lost in the cloud which, since early evening, + had been resting on the summit of Mount Gut, like a kite awaiting its + prey. The snow crunched under our feet. The atmosphere grew so rarefied + that to breathe was painful; ever and anon the blood rushed to my head, + but withal a certain rapturous sensation was diffused throughout my veins + and I felt a species of delight at being so high up above the world. A + childish feeling, I admit, but, when we retire from the conventions of + society and draw close to nature, we involuntarily become as children: + each attribute acquired by experience falls away from the soul, which + becomes anew such as it was once and will surely be again. He whose lot it + has been, as mine has been, to wander over the desolate mountains, long, + long to observe their fantastic shapes, greedily to gulp down the + life-giving air diffused through their ravines—he, of course, will + understand my desire to communicate, to narrate, to sketch those magic + pictures. + </p> + <p> + Well, at length we reached the summit of Mount Gut and, halting, looked + around us. Upon the mountain a grey cloud was hanging, and its cold breath + threatened the approach of a storm; but in the east everything was so + clear and golden that we—that is, the staff-captain and I—forgot + all about the cloud... Yes, the staff-captain too; in simple hearts the + feeling for the beauty and grandeur of nature is a hundred-fold stronger + and more vivid than in us, ecstatic composers of narratives in words and + on paper. + </p> + <p> + “You have grown accustomed, I suppose, to these magnificent pictures!” I + said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, you can even grow accustomed to the whistling of a bullet, that + is to say, accustomed to concealing the involuntary thumping of your + heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard, on the contrary, that many an old warrior actually finds + that music agreeable.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, if it comes to that, it is agreeable; but only just because + the heart beats more violently. Look!” he added, pointing towards the + east. “What a country!” + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, such a panorama I can hardly hope to see elsewhere. Beneath + us lay the Koishaur Valley, intersected by the Aragva and another stream + as if by two silver threads; a bluish mist was gliding along the valley, + fleeing into the neighbouring defiles from the warm rays of the morning. + To right and left the mountain crests, towering higher and higher, + intersected each other and stretched out, covered with snows and thickets; + in the distance were the same mountains, which now, however, had the + appearance of two cliffs, one like to the other. And all these snows were + burning in the crimson glow so merrily and so brightly that it seemed as + though one could live in such a place for ever. The sun was scarcely + visible behind the dark-blue mountain, which only a practised eye could + distinguish from a thunder-cloud; but above the sun was a blood-red streak + to which my companion directed particular attention. + </p> + <p> + “I told you,” he exclaimed, “that there would be dirty weather to-day! We + must make haste, or perhaps it will catch us on Mount Krestov.—Get + on!” he shouted to the drivers. + </p> + <p> + Chains were put under the wheels in place of drags, so that they should + not slide, the drivers took the horses by the reins, and the descent + began. On the right was a cliff, on the left a precipice, so deep that an + entire village of Ossetes at the bottom looked like a swallow’s nest. I + shuddered, as the thought occurred to me that often in the depth of night, + on that very road, where two wagons could not pass, a courier drives some + ten times a year without climbing down from his rickety vehicle. One of + our drivers was a Russian peasant from Yaroslavl, the other, an Ossete. + The latter took out the leaders in good time and led the shaft-horse by + the reins, using every possible precaution—but our heedless + compatriot did not even climb down from his box! When I remarked to him + that he might put himself out a bit, at least in the interests of my + portmanteau, for which I had not the slightest desire to clamber down into + the abyss, he answered: + </p> + <p> + “Eh, master, with the help of Heaven we shall arrive as safe and sound as + the others; it’s not our first time, you know.” + </p> + <p> + And he was right. We might just as easily have failed to arrive at all; + but arrive we did, for all that. And if people would only reason a little + more they would be convinced that life is not worth taking such a deal of + trouble about. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps, however, you would like to know the conclusion of the story of + Bela? In the first place, this is not a novel, but a collection of + travelling-notes, and, consequently, I cannot make the staff-captain tell + the story sooner than he actually proceeded to tell it. Therefore, you + must wait a bit, or, if you like, turn over a few pages. Though I do not + advise you to do the latter, because the crossing of Mount Krestov (or, as + the erudite Gamba calls it, le mont St. Christophe <a href="#linknote-15" + name="linknoteref-15" id="linknoteref-15"><small>15</small></a>) is worthy + of your curiosity. + </p> + <p> + Well, then, we descended Mount Gut into the Chertov Valley... There’s a + romantic designation for you! Already you have a vision of the evil + spirit’s nest amid the inaccessible cliffs—but you are out of your + reckoning there. The name “Chertov” is derived from the word cherta + (boundary-line) and not from chort (devil), because, at one time, the + valley marked the boundary of Georgia. We found it choked with + snow-drifts, which reminded us rather vividly of Saratov, Tambov, and + other charming localities of our fatherland. + </p> + <p> + “Look, there is Krestov!” said the staff-captain, when we had descended + into the Chertov Valley, as he pointed out a hill covered with a shroud of + snow. Upon the summit stood out the black outline of a stone cross, and + past it led an all but imperceptible road which travellers use only when + the side-road is obstructed with snow. Our drivers, declaring that no + avalanches had yet fallen, spared the horses by conducting us round the + mountain. At a turning we met four or five Ossetes, who offered us their + services; and, catching hold of the wheels, proceeded, with a shout, to + drag and hold up our cart. And, indeed, it is a dangerous road; on the + right were masses of snow hanging above us, and ready, it seemed, at the + first squall of wind to break off and drop into the ravine; the narrow + road was partly covered with snow, which, in many places, gave way under + our feet and, in others, was converted into ice by the action of the sun + by day and the frosts by night, so that the horses kept falling, and it + was with difficulty that we ourselves made our way. On the left yawned a + deep chasm, through which rolled a torrent, now hiding beneath a crust of + ice, now leaping and foaming over the black rocks. In two hours we were + barely able to double Mount Krestov—two versts in two hours! + Meanwhile the clouds had descended, hail and snow fell; the wind, bursting + into the ravines, howled and whistled like Nightingale the Robber. <a + href="#linknote-16" name="linknoteref-16" id="linknoteref-16"><small>16</small></a> + Soon the stone cross was hidden in the mist, the billows of which, in ever + denser and more compact masses, rushed in from the east... + </p> + <p> + Concerning that stone cross, by the way, there exists the strange, but + widespread, tradition that it had been set up by the Emperor Peter the + First when travelling through the Caucasus. In the first place, however, + the Emperor went no farther than Daghestan; and, in the second place, + there is an inscription in large letters on the cross itself, to the + effect that it had been erected by order of General Ermolov, and that too + in the year 1824. Nevertheless, the tradition has taken such firm root, in + spite of the inscription, that really you do not know what to believe; the + more so, as it is not the custom to believe inscriptions. + </p> + <p> + To reach the station Kobi, we still had to descend about five versts, + across ice-covered rocks and plashy snow. The horses were exhausted; we + were freezing; the snowstorm droned with ever-increasing violence, exactly + like the storms of our own northern land, only its wild melodies were + sadder and more melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “O Exile,” I thought, “thou art weeping for thy wide, free steppes! There + mayest thou unfold thy cold wings, but here thou art stifled and confined, + like an eagle beating his wings, with a shriek, against the grating of his + iron cage!” + </p> + <p> + “A bad look out,” said the staff-captain. “Look! There’s nothing to be + seen all round but mist and snow. At any moment we may tumble into an + abyss or stick fast in a cleft; and a little lower down, I dare say, the + Baidara has risen so high that there is no getting across it. Oh, this + Asia, I know it! Like people, like rivers! There’s no trusting them at + all!” + </p> + <p> + The drivers, shouting and cursing, belaboured the horses, which snorted, + resisted obstinately, and refused to budge on any account, notwithstanding + the eloquence of the whips. + </p> + <p> + “Your honour,” one of the drivers said to me at length, “you see, we will + never reach Kobi to-day. Won’t you give orders to turn to the left while + we can? There is something black yonder on the slope—probably huts. + Travellers always stop there in bad weather, sir. They say,” he added, + pointing to the Ossetes, “that they will lead us there if you will give + them a tip.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that, my friend, I know that without your telling me,” said the + staff-captain. “Oh, these beasts! They are delighted to seize any pretext + for extorting a tip!” + </p> + <p> + “You must confess, however,” I said, “that we should be worse off without + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so, just so,” he growled to himself. “I know them well—these + guides! They scent out by instinct a chance of taking advantage of people. + As if it was impossible to find the way without them!” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly we turned aside to the left, and, somehow or other, after a + good deal of trouble, made our way to the wretched shelter, which + consisted of two huts built of stone slabs and rubble, surrounded by a + wall of the same material. Our ragged hosts received us with alacrity. I + learned afterwards that the Government supplies them with money and food + upon condition that they put up travellers who are overtaken by storm. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + “ALL is for the best,” I said, sitting down close by the fire. “Now you + will finish telling me your story about Bela. I am certain that what you + have already told me was not the end of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why are you so certain?” answered the staff-captain, winking and smiling + slyly. + </p> + <p> + “Because things don’t happen like that. A story with such an unusual + beginning must also have an unusual ending.” + </p> + <p> + “You have guessed, of course”... + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all very well for you to be glad, but, indeed, it makes me sad when + I think of it. Bela was a splendid girl. In the end I grew accustomed to + her just as if she had been my own daughter, and she loved me. I must tell + you that I have no family. I have had no news of my father and mother for + twelve years or so, and, in my earlier days, I never thought of providing + myself with a wife—and now, you know, it wouldn’t do. So I was glad + to have found someone to spoil. She used to sing to us or dance the + Lezginka. <a href="#linknote-17" name="linknoteref-17" id="linknoteref-17"><small>17</small></a>.. + And what a dancer she was! I have seen our own ladies in provincial + society; and on one occasion, sir, about twenty years ago, I was even in + the Nobles’ Club at Moscow—but was there a woman to be compared with + her? Not one! Grigori Aleksandrovich dressed her up like a doll, petted + and pampered her, and it was simply astonishing to see how pretty she grew + while she lived with us. The sunburn disappeared from her face and hands, + and a rosy colour came into her cheeks... What a merry girl she was! + Always making fun of me, the little rogue!... Heaven forgive her!” + </p> + <p> + “And when you told her of her father’s death?” + </p> + <p> + “We kept it a secret from her for a long time, until she had grown + accustomed to her position; and then, when she was told, she cried for a + day or two and forgot all about it. + </p> + <p> + “For four months or so everything went on as well as it possibly could. + Grigori Aleksandrovich, as I think I have already mentioned, was + passionately fond of hunting; he was always craving to be off into the + forest after boars or wild goats—but now it would be as much as he + would do to go beyond the fortress rampart. All at once, however, I saw + that he was beginning again to have fits of abstraction, walking about his + room with his hands clasped behind his back. One day after that, without + telling anyone, he set off shooting. During the whole morning he was not + to be seen; then the same thing happened another time, and so on—oftener + and oftener... + </p> + <p> + “‘This looks bad!’ I said to myself. ‘Something must have come between + them!’ + </p> + <p> + “One morning I paid them a visit—I can see it all in my mind’s eye, + as if it was happening now. Bela was sitting on the bed, wearing a black + silk jacket, and looking rather pale and so sad that I was alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “‘Where is Pechorin?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + “‘Hunting.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘When did he go—to-day?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘She was silent, as if she found a difficulty in answering. + </p> + <p> + “‘No, he has been gone since yesterday,’ she said at length, with a heavy + sigh. + </p> + <p> + “‘Surely nothing has happened to him!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yesterday I thought and thought the whole day,’ she answered through her + tears; ‘I imagined all sorts of misfortunes. At one time I fancied that he + had been wounded by a wild boar, at another time, that he had been carried + off by a Chechene into the mountains... But, now, I have come to think + that he no longer loves me.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘In truth, my dear girl, you could not have imagined anything worse!’ + </p> + <p> + “She burst out crying; then, proudly raising her head, she wiped away the + tears and continued: + </p> + <p> + “‘If he does not love me, then who prevents him sending me home? I am not + putting any constraint on him. But, if things go on like this, I will go + away myself—I am not a slave, I am a prince’s daughter!’... + </p> + <p> + “I tried to talk her over. + </p> + <p> + “‘Listen, Bela. You see it is impossible for him to stop in here with you + for ever, as if he was sewn on to your petticoat. He is a young man and + fond of hunting. Off he’ll go, but you will find that he will come back; + and, if you are going to be unhappy, you will soon make him tired of you.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘True, true!’ she said. ‘I will be merry.’ + </p> + <p> + “And with a burst of laughter, she seized her tambourine, began to sing, + dance, and gambol around me. But that did not last long either; she fell + upon the bed again and buried her face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “What could I do with her? You know I have never been accustomed to the + society of women. I thought and thought how to cheer her up, but couldn’t + hit on anything. For some time both of us remained silent... A most + unpleasant situation, sir! + </p> + <p> + “At length I said to her: + </p> + <p> + “‘Would you like us to go and take a walk on the rampart? The weather is + splendid.’ + </p> + <p> + “This was in September, and indeed it was a wonderful day, bright and not + too hot. The mountains could be seen as clearly as though they were but a + hand’s-breadth away. We went, and walked in silence to and fro along the + rampart of the fortress. At length she sat down on the sward, and I sat + beside her. In truth, now, it is funny to think of it all! I used to run + after her just like a kind of children’s nurse! + </p> + <p> + “Our fortress was situated in a lofty position, and the view from the + rampart was superb. On one side, the wide clearing, seamed by a few + clefts, was bounded by the forest which stretched out to the very ridge of + the mountains. Here and there, on the clearing, villages were to be seen + sending forth their smoke, and there were droves of horses roaming about. + On the other side flowed a tiny stream, and close to its banks came the + dense undergrowth which covered the flinty heights joining the principal + chain of the Caucasus. We sat in a corner of the bastion, so that we could + see everything on both sides. Suddenly I perceived someone on a grey horse + riding out of the forest; nearer and nearer he approached until finally he + stopped on the far side of the river, about a hundred fathoms from us, and + began to wheel his horse round and round like one possessed. ‘Strange!’ I + thought. + </p> + <p> + “‘Look, look, Bela,’ I said, ‘you’ve got young eyes—what sort of a + horseman is that? Who is it he has come to amuse?’... + </p> + <p> + “‘It is Kazbich!’ she exclaimed after a glance. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah, the robber! Come to laugh at us, has he?’ + </p> + <p> + “I looked closely, and sure enough it was Kazbich, with his swarthy face, + and as ragged and dirty as ever. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is my father’s horse!’ said Bela, seizing my arm. + </p> + <p> + “She was trembling like a leaf and her eyes were sparkling. + </p> + <p> + “‘Aha!’ I said to myself. ‘There is robber’s blood in your veins still, my + dear!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Come here,’ I said to the sentry. ‘Look to your gun and unhorse that + gallant for me—and you shall have a silver ruble.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Very well, your honour, only he won’t keep still.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Tell him to!’ I said, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “‘Hey, friend!’ cried the sentry, waving his hand. ‘Wait a bit. What are + you spinning round like a humming-top for?’ + </p> + <p> + “Kazbich halted and gave ear to the sentry—probably thinking that we + were going to parley with him. Quite the contrary!... My grenadier took + aim... Bang!... Missed!... Just as the powder flashed in the pan Kazbich + jogged his horse, which gave a bound to one side. He stood up in his + stirrups, shouted something in his own language, made a threatening + gesture with his whip—and was off. + </p> + <p> + “‘Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?’ I said to the sentry. + </p> + <p> + “‘He has gone away to die, your honour,’ he answered. ‘There’s no killing + a man of that cursed race at one stroke.’ + </p> + <p> + “A quarter of an hour later Pechorin returned from hunting. Bela threw + herself on his neck without a single complaint, without a single reproach + for his lengthy absence!... Even I was angry with him by this time! + </p> + <p> + “‘Good heavens!’ I said; ‘why, I tell you, Kazbich was here on the other + side of the river just a moment ago, and we shot at him. How easily you + might have run up against him, you know! These mountaineers are a + vindictive race! Do you suppose he does not guess that you gave Azamat + some help? And I wager that he recognised Bela to-day! I know he was + desperately fond of her a year ago—he told me so himself—and, + if he had had any hope of getting together a proper bridegroom’s gift, he + would certainly have sought her in marriage.’ + </p> + <p> + “At this Pechorin became thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘We must be more cautious—Bela, from this day + forth you mustn’t walk on the rampart any more.’ + </p> + <p> + “In the evening I had a lengthy explanation with him. I was vexed that his + feelings towards the poor girl had changed; to say nothing of his spending + half the day hunting, his manner towards her had become cold. He rarely + caressed her, and she was beginning perceptibly to pine away; her little + face was becoming drawn, her large eyes growing dim. + </p> + <p> + “‘What are you sighing for, Bela?’ I would ask her. ‘Are you sad?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you want anything?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You are pining for your kinsfolk?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I have none!’ + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes for whole days not a word could be drawn from her but ‘Yes’ and + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + “So I straightway proceeded to talk to Pechorin about her.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + “‘LISTEN, Maksim Maksimych,’ said Pechorin. ‘Mine is an unfortunate + disposition; whether it is the result of my upbringing or whether it is + innate—I know not. I only know this, that if I am the cause of + unhappiness in others I myself am no less unhappy. Of course, that is a + poor consolation to them—only the fact remains that such is the + case. In my early youth, from the moment I ceased to be under the + guardianship of my relations, I began madly to enjoy all the pleasures + which money could buy—and, of course, such pleasures became irksome + to me. Then I launched out into the world of fashion—and that, too, + soon palled upon me. I fell in love with fashionable beauties and was + loved by them, but my imagination and egoism alone were aroused; my heart + remained empty... I began to read, to study—but sciences also became + utterly wearisome to me. I saw that neither fame nor happiness depends on + them in the least, because the happiest people are the uneducated, and + fame is good fortune, to attain which you have only to be smart. Then I + grew bored... Soon afterwards I was transferred to the Caucasus; and that + was the happiest time of my life. I hoped that under the bullets of the + Chechenes boredom could not exist—a vain hope! In a month I grew so + accustomed to the buzzing of the bullets and to the proximity of death + that, to tell the truth, I paid more attention to the gnats—and I + became more bored than ever, because I had lost what was almost my last + hope. When I saw Bela in my own house; when, for the first time, I held + her on my knee and kissed her black locks, I, fool that I was, thought + that she was an angel sent to me by sympathetic fate... Again I was + mistaken; the love of a savage is little better than that of your lady of + quality, the barbaric ignorance and simplicity of the one weary you as + much as the coquetry of the other. I am not saying that I do not love her + still; I am grateful to her for a few fairly sweet moments; I would give + my life for her—only I am bored with her... Whether I am a fool or a + villain I know not; but this is certain, I am also most deserving of pity—perhaps + more than she. My soul has been spoiled by the world, my imagination is + unquiet, my heart insatiate. To me everything is of little moment. I + become as easily accustomed to grief as to joy, and my life grows emptier + day by day. One expedient only is left to me—travel. + </p> + <p> + “‘As soon as I can, I shall set off—but not to Europe. Heaven + forfend! I shall go to America, to Arabia, to India—perchance I + shall die somewhere on the way. At any rate, I am convinced that, thanks + to storms and bad roads, that last consolation will not quickly be + exhausted!’ + </p> + <p> + “For a long time he went on speaking thus, and his words have remained + stamped upon my memory, because it was the first time that I had heard + such things from a man of five-and-twenty—and Heaven grant it may be + the last. Isn’t it astonishing? Tell me, please,” continued the + staff-captain, appealing to me. “You used to live in the Capital, I think, + and that not so very long ago. Is it possible that the young men there are + all like that?” + </p> + <p> + I replied that there were a good many people who used the same sort of + language, that, probably, there might even be some who spoke in all + sincerity; that disillusionment, moreover, like all other vogues, having + had its beginning in the higher strata of society, had descended to the + lower, where it was being worn threadbare, and that, now, those who were + really and truly bored strove to conceal their misfortune as if it were a + vice. The staff-captain did not understand these subtleties, shook his + head, and smiled slyly. + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, I suppose it was the French who introduced the fashion?” + </p> + <p> + “No, the English.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha, there you are!” he answered. “They always have been arrant + drunkards, you know!” + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily I recalled to mind a certain lady, living in Moscow, who + used to maintain that Byron was nothing more nor less than a drunkard. + However, the staff-captain’s observation was more excusable; in order to + abstain from strong drink, he naturally endeavoured to convince himself + that all the misfortunes in the world are the result of drunkenness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + MEANWHILE the staff-captain continued his story. + </p> + <p> + “Kazbich never put in an appearance again; but somehow—I don’t know + why—I could not get the idea out of my head that he had had a reason + for coming, and that some mischievous scheme was in his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Well, one day Pechorin tried to persuade me to go boar-hunting with him. + For a long time I refused. What novelty was a wild boar to me? + </p> + <p> + “However, off he dragged me, all the same. We took four or five soldiers + and set out early in the morning. Up till ten o’clock we scurried about + the reeds and the forest—there wasn’t a wild beast to be found! + </p> + <p> + “‘I say, oughtn’t we to be going back?’ I said. ‘What’s the use of + sticking at it? It is evident enough that we have happened on an unlucky + day!’ + </p> + <p> + “But, in spite of heat and fatigue, Pechorin didn’t like to return + empty-handed... That is just the kind of man he was; whatever he set his + heart on he had to have—evidently, in his childhood, he had been + spoiled by an indulgent mother. At last, at midday, we discovered one of + those cursed wild boars—Bang! Bang!—No good!—Off it went + into the reeds. That was an unlucky day, to be sure!... So, after a short + rest, we set off homeward... + </p> + <p> + “We rode in silence, side by side, giving the horses their head. We had + almost reached the fortress, and only the brushwood concealed it from + view. Suddenly a shot rang out... We glanced at each other, both struck + with the selfsame suspicion... We galloped headlong in the direction of + the shot, looked, and saw the soldiers clustered together on the rampart + and pointing towards a field, along which a rider was flying at full + speed, holding something white across his saddle. Grigori Aleksandrovich + yelled like any Chechene, whipped his gun from its cover, and gave chase—I + after him. + </p> + <p> + “Luckily, thanks to our unsuccessful hunt, our horses were not jaded; they + strained under the saddle, and with every moment we drew nearer and + nearer... At length I recognised Kazbich, only I could not make out what + it was that he was holding in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “Then I drew level with Pechorin and shouted to him: + </p> + <p> + “‘It is Kazbich!’ + </p> + <p> + “He looked at me, nodded, and struck his horse with his whip. + </p> + <p> + “At last we were within gunshot of Kazbich. Whether it was that his horse + was jaded or not so good as ours, I don’t know, but, in spite of all his + efforts, it did not get along very fast. I fancy at that moment he + remembered his Karagyoz! + </p> + <p> + “I looked at Pechorin. He was taking aim as he galloped... + </p> + <p> + “‘Don’t shoot,’ I cried. ‘Save the shot! We will catch up with him as it + is.’ + </p> + <p> + “Oh, these young men! Always taking fire at the wrong moment! The shot + rang out and the bullet broke one of the horse’s hind legs. It gave a few + fiery leaps forward, stumbled, and fell to its knees. Kazbich sprang off, + and then we perceived that it was a woman he was holding in his arms—a + woman wrapped in a veil. It was Bela—poor Bela! He shouted something + to us in his own language and raised his dagger over her... Delay was + useless; I fired in my turn, at haphazard. Probably the bullet struck him + in the shoulder, because he dropped his hand suddenly. When the smoke + cleared off, we could see the wounded horse lying on the ground and Bela + beside it; but Kazbich, his gun flung away, was clambering like a cat up + the cliff, through the brushwood. I should have liked to have brought him + down from there—but I hadn’t a charge ready. We jumped off our + horses and rushed to Bela. Poor girl! She was lying motionless, and the + blood was pouring in streams from her wound. The villain! If he had struck + her to the heart—well and good, everything would at least have been + finished there and then; but to stab her in the back like that—the + scoundrel! She was unconscious. We tore the veil into strips and bound up + the wound as tightly as we could. In vain Pechorin kissed her cold lips—it + was impossible to bring her to. + </p> + <p> + “Pechorin mounted; I lifted Bela from the ground and somehow managed to + place her before him on his saddle; he put his arm round her and we rode + back. + </p> + <p> + “‘Look here, Maksim Maksimych,’ said Grigori Aleksandrovich, after a few + moments of silence. ‘We will never bring her in alive like this.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘True!’ I said, and we put our horses to a full gallop.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + “A CROWD was awaiting us at the fortress gate. Carefully we carried the + wounded girl to Pechorin’s quarters, and then we sent for the doctor. The + latter was drunk, but he came, examined the wound, and announced that she + could not live more than a day. He was mistaken, though.” + </p> + <p> + “She recovered?” I asked the staff-captain, seizing him by the arm, and + involuntarily rejoicing. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied, “but the doctor was so far mistaken that she lived two + days longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain, though, how Kazbich made off with her!” + </p> + <p> + “It was like this: in spite of Pechorin’s prohibition, she went out of the + fortress and down to the river. It was a very hot day, you know, and she + sat on a rock and dipped her feet in the water. Up crept Kazbich, pounced + upon her, silenced her, and dragged her into the bushes. Then he sprang on + his horse and made off. In the meantime she succeeded in crying out, the + sentries took the alarm, fired, but wide of the mark; and thereupon we + arrived on the scene.” + </p> + <p> + “But what did Kazbich want to carry her off for?” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious! Why, everyone knows these Circassians are a race of + thieves; they can’t keep their hands off anything that is left lying + about! They may not want a thing, but they will steal it, for all that. + Still, you mustn’t be too hard on them. And, besides, he had been in love + with her for a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “And Bela died?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she died, but she suffered for a long time, and we were fairly + knocked up with her, I can tell you. About ten o’clock in the evening she + came to herself. We were sitting by her bed. As soon as ever she opened + her eyes she began to call Pechorin. + </p> + <p> + “‘I am here beside you, my janechka’ (that is, ‘my darling’), he answered, + taking her by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “‘I shall die,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + “We began to comfort her, telling her that the doctor had promised + infallibly to cure her. She shook her little head and turned to the wall—she + did not want to die!... + </p> + <p> + “At night she became delirious, her head burned, at times a feverish + paroxysm convulsed her whole body. She talked incoherently about her + father, her brother; she yearned for the mountains, for her home... Then + she spoke of Pechorin also, called him various fond names, or reproached + him for having ceased to love his janechka. + </p> + <p> + “He listened to her in silence, his head sunk in his hands; but yet, + during the whole time, I did not notice a single tear-drop on his lashes. + I do not know whether he was actually unable to weep or was mastering + himself; but for my part I have never seen anything more pitiful. + </p> + <p> + “Towards morning the delirium passed off. For an hour or so she lay + motionless, pale, and so weak that it was hardly possible to observe that + she was breathing. After that she grew better and began to talk: only + about what, think you? Such thoughts come only to the dying!... She + lamented that she was not a Christian, that in the other world her soul + would never meet the soul of Grigori Aleksandrovich, and that in Paradise + another woman would be his companion. The thought occurred to me to + baptize her before her death. I told her my idea; she looked at me + undecidedly, and for a long time was unable to utter a word. Finally she + answered that she would die in the faith in which she had been born. A + whole day passed thus. What a change that day made in her! Her pale cheeks + fell in, her eyes grew ever so large, her lips burned. She felt a + consuming heat within her, as though a red-hot blade was piercing her + breast. + </p> + <p> + “The second night came on. We did not close our eyes or leave the bedside. + She suffered terribly, and groaned; and directly the pain began to abate + she endeavoured to assure Grigori Aleksandrovich that she felt better, + tried to persuade him to go to bed, kissed his hand and would not let it + out of hers. Before the morning she began to feel the death agony and to + toss about. She knocked the bandage off, and the blood flowed afresh. When + the wound was bound up again she grew quiet for a moment and begged + Pechorin to kiss her. He fell on his knees beside the bed, raised her head + from the pillow, and pressed his lips to hers—which were growing + cold. She threw her trembling arms closely round his neck, as if with that + kiss she wished to yield up her soul to him.—No, she did well to + die! Why, what would have become of her if Grigori Aleksandrovich had + abandoned her? And that is what would have happened, sooner or later. + </p> + <p> + “During half the following day she was calm, silent and docile, however + much the doctor tortured her with his fomentations and mixtures. + </p> + <p> + “‘Good heavens!’ I said to him, ‘you know you said yourself that she was + certain to die, so what is the good of all these preparations of yours?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Even so, it is better to do all this,’ he replied, ‘so that I may have + an easy conscience.’ + </p> + <p> + “A pretty conscience, forsooth! + </p> + <p> + “After midday Bela began to suffer from thirst. We opened the windows, but + it was hotter outside than in the room; we placed ice round the bed—all + to no purpose. I knew that that intolerable thirst was a sign of the + approaching end, and I told Pechorin so. + </p> + <p> + “‘Water, water!’ she said in a hoarse voice, raising herself up from the + bed. + </p> + <p> + “Pechorin turned pale as a sheet, seized a glass, filled it, and gave it + to her. I covered my eyes with my hands and began to say a prayer—I + can’t remember what... Yes, my friend, many a time have I seen people die + in hospitals or on the field of battle, but this was something altogether + different! Still, this one thing grieves me, I must confess: she died + without even once calling me to mind. Yet I loved her, I should think, + like a father!... Well, God forgive her!... And, to tell the truth, what + am I that she should have remembered me when she was dying?... + </p> + <p> + “As soon as she had drunk the water, she grew easier—but in about + three minutes she breathed her last! We put a looking-glass to her lips—it + was undimmed! + </p> + <p> + “I led Pechorin from the room, and we went on to the fortress rampart. For + a long time we walked side by side, to and fro, speaking not a word and + with our hands clasped behind our backs. His face expressed nothing out of + the common—and that vexed me. Had I been in his place, I should have + died of grief. At length he sat down on the ground in the shade and began + to draw something in the sand with his stick. More for form’s sake than + anything, you know, I tried to console him and began to talk. He raised + his head and burst into a laugh! At that laugh a cold shudder ran through + me... I went away to order a coffin. + </p> + <p> + “I confess it was partly to distract my thoughts that I busied myself in + that way. I possessed a little piece of Circassian stuff, and I covered + the coffin with it, and decked it with some Circassian silver lace which + Grigori Aleksandrovich had bought for Bela herself. + </p> + <p> + “Early next morning we buried her behind the fortress, by the river, + beside the spot where she had sat for the last time. Around her little + grave white acacia shrubs and elder-trees have now grown up. I should have + liked to erect a cross, but that would not have done, you know—after + all, she was not a Christian.” + </p> + <p> + “And what of Pechorin?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Pechorin was ill for a long time, and grew thin, poor fellow; but we + never spoke of Bela from that time forth. I saw that it would be + disagreeable to him, so what would have been the use? About three months + later he was appointed to the E——Regiment, and departed for + Georgia. We have never met since. Yet, when I come to think of it, + somebody told me not long ago that he had returned to Russia—but it + was not in the general orders for the corps. Besides, to the like of us + news is late in coming.” + </p> + <p> + Hereupon—probably to drown sad memories—he launched forth into + a lengthy dissertation on the unpleasantness of learning news a year late. + </p> + <p> + I did not interrupt him, nor did I listen. + </p> + <p> + In an hour’s time a chance of proceeding on our journey presented itself. + The snowstorm subsided, the sky became clear, and we set off. On the way I + involuntarily let the conversation turn on Bela and Pechorin. + </p> + <p> + “You have not heard what became of Kazbich?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Kazbich? In truth, I don’t know. I have heard that with the Shapsugs, on + our right flank, there is a certain Kazbich, a dare-devil fellow who rides + about at a walking pace, in a red tunic, under our bullets, and bows + politely whenever one hums near him—but it can scarcely be the same + person!”... + </p> + <p> + In Kobi, Maksim Maksimych and I parted company. I posted on, and he, on + account of his heavy luggage, was unable to follow me. We had no + expectation of ever meeting again, but meet we did, and, if you like, I + will tell you how—it is quite a history... You must acknowledge, + though, that Maksim Maksimych is a man worthy of all respect... If you + admit that, I shall be fully rewarded for my, perhaps, too lengthy story. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II MAKSIM MAKSIMYCH + </h2> + <p> + AFTER parting with Maksim Maksimych, I galloped briskly through the gorges + of the Terek and Darial, breakfasted in Kazbek, drank tea in Lars, and + arrived at Vladikavkaz in time for supper. I spare you a description of + the mountains, as well as exclamations which convey no meaning, and + word-paintings which convey no image—especially to those who have + never been in the Caucasus. I also omit statistical observations, which I + am quite sure nobody would read. + </p> + <p> + I put up at the inn which is frequented by all who travel in those parts, + and where, by the way, there is no one you can order to roast your + pheasant and cook your cabbage-soup, because the three veterans who have + charge of the inn are either so stupid, or so drunk, that it is impossible + to knock any sense at all out of them. + </p> + <p> + I was informed that I should have to stay there three days longer, because + the “Adventure” had not yet arrived from Ekaterinograd and consequently + could not start on the return journey. What a misadventure! <a + href="#linknote-18" name="linknoteref-18" id="linknoteref-18"><small>18</small></a>... + But a bad pun is no consolation to a Russian, and, for the sake of + something to occupy my thoughts, I took it into my head to write down the + story about Bela, which I had heard from Maksim Maksimych—never + imagining that it would be the first link in a long chain of novels: you + see how an insignificant event has sometimes dire results!... Perhaps, + however, you do not know what the “Adventure” is? It is a convoy—composed + of half a company of infantry, with a cannon—which escorts + baggage-trains through Kabardia from Vladikavkaz to Ekaterinograd. + </p> + <p> + The first day I found the time hang on my hands dreadfully. Early next + morning a vehicle drove into the courtyard... Aha! Maksim Maksimych!... We + met like a couple of old friends. I offered to share my own room with him, + and he accepted my hospitality without standing upon ceremony; he even + clapped me on the shoulder and puckered up his mouth by way of a smile—a + queer fellow, that!... + </p> + <p> + Maksim Maksimych was profoundly versed in the culinary art. He roasted the + pheasant astonishingly well and basted it successfully with cucumber + sauce. I was obliged to acknowledge that, but for him, I should have had + to remain on a dry-food diet. A bottle of Kakhetian wine helped us to + forget the modest number of dishes—of which there was one, all told. + Then we lit our pipes, took our chairs, and sat down—I by the + window, and he by the stove, in which a fire had been lighted because the + day was damp and cold. We remained silent. What had we to talk about? He + had already told me all that was of interest about himself and I had + nothing to relate. I looked out of the window. Here and there, behind the + trees, I caught glimpses of a number of poor, low houses straggling along + the bank of the Terek, which flowed seaward in an ever-widening stream; + farther off rose the dark-blue, jagged wall of the mountains, behind which + Mount Kazbek gazed forth in his highpriest’s hat of white. I took a mental + farewell of them; I felt sorry to leave them... + </p> + <p> + Thus we sat for a considerable time. The sun was sinking behind the cold + summits and a whitish mist was beginning to spread over the valleys, when + the silence was broken by the jingling of the bell of a + travelling-carriage and the shouting of drivers in the street. A few + vehicles, accompanied by dirty Armenians, drove into the courtyard of the + inn, and behind them came an empty travelling-carriage. Its light + movement, comfortable arrangement, and elegant appearance gave it a kind + of foreign stamp. Behind it walked a man with large moustaches. He was + wearing a Hungarian jacket and was rather well dressed for a manservant. + From the bold manner in which he shook the ashes out of his pipe and + shouted at the coachman it was impossible to mistake his calling. He was + obviously the spoiled servant of an indolent master—something in the + nature of a Russian Figaro. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, my good man,” I called to him out of the window. “What is it?—Has + the ‘Adventure’ arrived, eh?” + </p> + <p> + He gave me a rather insolent glance, straightened his cravat, and turned + away. An Armenian, who was walking near him, smiled and answered for him + that the “Adventure” had, in fact, arrived, and would start on the return + journey the following morning. + </p> + <p> + “Thank heavens!” said Maksim Maksimych, who had come up to the window at + that moment. “What a wonderful carriage!” he added; “probably it belongs + to some official who is going to Tiflis for a judicial inquiry. You can + see that he is unacquainted with our little mountains! No, my friend, + you’re not serious! They are not for the like of you; why, they would + shake even an English carriage to bits!—But who could it be? Let us + go and find out.” + </p> + <p> + We went out into the corridor, at the end of which there was an open door + leading into a side room. The manservant and a driver were dragging + portmanteaux into the room. + </p> + <p> + “I say, my man!” the staff-captain asked him: “Whose is that marvellous + carriage?—Eh?—A beautiful carriage!” + </p> + <p> + Without turning round the manservant growled something to himself as he + undid a portmanteau. Maksim Maksimych grew angry. + </p> + <p> + “I am speaking to you, my friend!” he said, touching the uncivil fellow on + the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Whose carriage?—My master’s.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is your master?” + </p> + <p> + “Pechorin—” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say? What? Pechorin?—Great Heavens!... Did he not + serve in the Caucasus?” exclaimed Maksim Maksimych, plucking me by the + sleeve. His eyes were sparkling with joy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he served there, I think—but I have not been with him long.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! Just so!... Just so!... Grigori Aleksandrovich?... that is his + name, of course? Your master and I were friends,” he added, giving the + manservant a friendly clap on the shoulder with such force as to cause him + to stagger. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, sir, you are hindering me,” said the latter, frowning. + </p> + <p> + “What a fellow you are, my friend! Why, don’t you know, your master and I + were bosom friends, and lived together?... But where has he put up?” + </p> + <p> + The servant intimated that Pechorin had stayed to take supper and pass the + night at Colonel N——‘s. + </p> + <p> + “But won’t he be looking in here in the evening?” said Maksim Maksimych. + “Or, you, my man, won’t you be going over to him for something?... If you + do, tell him that Maksim Maksimych is here; just say that—he’ll + know!—I’ll give you half a ruble for a tip!” + </p> + <p> + The manservant made a scornful face on hearing such a modest promise, but + he assured Maksim Maksimych that he would execute his commission. + </p> + <p> + “He’ll be sure to come running up directly!” said Maksim Maksimych, with + an air of triumph. “I will go outside the gate and wait for him! Ah, it’s + a pity I am not acquainted with Colonel N——!” + </p> + <p> + Maksim Maksimych sat down on a little bench outside the gate, and I went + to my room. I confess that I also was awaiting this Pechorin’s appearance + with a certain amount of impatience—although, from the + staff-captain’s story, I had formed a by no means favourable idea of him. + Still, certain traits in his character struck me as remarkable. In an + hour’s time one of the old soldiers brought a steaming samovar and a + teapot. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you have some tea, Maksim Maksimych?” I called out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I am not thirsty, somehow.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do have some! It is late, you know, and cold!” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you”... + </p> + <p> + “Well, just as you like!” + </p> + <p> + I began my tea alone. About ten minutes afterwards my old captain came in. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, you know; it would be better to have a drop of tea—but + I was waiting for Pechorin. His man has been gone a long time now, but + evidently something has detained him.” + </p> + <p> + The staff-captain hurriedly sipped a cup of tea, refused a second, and + went off again outside the gate—not without a certain amount of + disquietude. It was obvious that the old man was mortified by Pechorin’s + neglect, the more so because a short time previously he had been telling + me of their friendship, and up to an hour ago had been convinced that + Pechorin would come running up immediately on hearing his name. + </p> + <p> + It was already late and dark when I opened the window again and began to + call Maksim Maksimych, saying that it was time to go to bed. He muttered + something through his teeth. I repeated my invitation—he made no + answer. + </p> + <p> + I left a candle on the stove-seat, and, wrapping myself up in my cloak, I + lay down on the couch and soon fell into slumber; and I would have slept + on quietly had not Maksim Maksimych awakened me as he came into the room. + It was then very late. He threw his pipe on the table, began to walk up + and down the room, and to rattle about at the stove. At last he lay down, + but for a long time he kept coughing, spitting, and tossing about. + </p> + <p> + “The bugs are biting you, are they not?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is it,” he answered, with a heavy sigh. + </p> + <p> + I woke early the next morning, but Maksim Maksimych had anticipated me. I + found him sitting on the little bench at the gate. + </p> + <p> + “I have to go to the Commandant,” he said, “so, if Pechorin comes, please + send for me.”... + </p> + <p> + I gave my promise. He ran off as if his limbs had regained their youthful + strength and suppleness. + </p> + <p> + The morning was fresh and lovely. Golden clouds had massed themselves on + the mountaintops like a new range of aerial mountains. Before the gate a + wide square spread out; behind it the bazaar was seething with people, the + day being Sunday. Barefooted Ossete boys, carrying wallets of honeycomb on + their shoulders, were hovering around me. I cursed them; I had other + things to think of—I was beginning to share the worthy + staff-captain’s uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + Before ten minutes had passed the man we were awaiting appeared at the end + of the square. He was walking with Colonel N., who accompanied him as far + as the inn, said good-bye to him, and then turned back to the fortress. I + immediately despatched one of the old soldiers for Maksim Maksimych. + </p> + <p> + Pechorin’s manservant went out to meet him and informed him that they were + going to put to at once; he handed him a box of cigars, received a few + orders, and went off about his business. His master lit a cigar, yawned + once or twice, and sat down on the bench on the other side of the gate. I + must now draw his portrait for you. + </p> + <p> + He was of medium height. His shapely, slim figure and broad shoulders gave + evidence of a strong constitution, capable of enduring all the hardships + of a nomad life and changes of climates, and of resisting with success + both the demoralising effects of life in the Capital and the tempests of + the soul. His velvet overcoat, which was covered with dust, was fastened + by the two lower buttons only, and exposed to view linen of dazzling + whiteness, which proved that he had the habits of a gentleman. His gloves, + soiled by travel, seemed as though made expressly for his small, + aristocratic hand, and when he took one glove off I was astonished at the + thinness of his pale fingers. His gait was careless and indolent, but I + noticed that he did not swing his arms—a sure sign of a certain + secretiveness of character. These remarks, however, are the result of my + own observations, and I have not the least desire to make you blindly + believe in them. When he was in the act of seating himself on the bench + his upright figure bent as if there was not a single bone in his back. The + attitude of his whole body was expressive of a certain nervous weakness; + he looked, as he sat, like one of Balzac’s thirty-year-old coquettes + resting in her downy arm-chair after a fatiguing ball. From my first + glance at his face I should not have supposed his age to be more than + twenty-three, though afterwards I should have put it down as thirty. His + smile had something of a child-like quality. His skin possessed a kind of + feminine delicacy. His fair hair, naturally curly, most picturesquely + outlined his pale and noble brow, on which it was only after lengthy + observation that traces could be noticed of wrinkles, intersecting each + other: probably they showed up more distinctly in moments of anger or + mental disturbance. Notwithstanding the light colour of his hair, his + moustaches and eyebrows were black—a sign of breeding in a man, just + as a black mane and a black tail in a white horse. To complete the + portrait, I will add that he had a slightly turned-up nose, teeth of + dazzling whiteness, and brown eyes—I must say a few words more about + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, they never laughed when he laughed. Have you not + happened, yourself, to notice the same peculiarity in certain people?... + It is a sign either of an evil disposition or of deep and constant grief. + From behind his half-lowered eyelashes they shone with a kind of + phosphorescent gleam—if I may so express myself—which was not + the reflection of a fervid soul or of a playful fancy, but a glitter like + to that of smooth steel, blinding but cold. His glance—brief, but + piercing and heavy—left the unpleasant impression of an indiscreet + question and might have seemed insolent had it not been so unconcernedly + tranquil. + </p> + <p> + It may be that all these remarks came into my mind only after I had known + some details of his life, and it may be, too, that his appearance would + have produced an entirely different impression upon another; but, as you + will not hear of him from anyone except myself, you will have to rest + content, nolens volens, with the description I have given. In conclusion, + I will say that, speaking generally, he was a very good-looking man, and + had one of those original types of countenance which are particularly + pleasing to women. + </p> + <p> + The horses were already put to; now and then the bell jingled on the + shaft-bow; <a href="#linknote-19" name="linknoteref-19" id="linknoteref-19"><small>19</small></a> + and the manservant had twice gone up to Pechorin with the announcement + that everything was ready, but still there was no sign of Maksim + Maksimych. Fortunately Pechorin was sunk in thought as he gazed at the + jagged, blue peaks of the Caucasus, and was apparently by no means in a + hurry for the road. + </p> + <p> + I went up to him. + </p> + <p> + “If you care to wait a little longer,” I said, “you will have the pleasure + of meeting an old friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, exactly!” he answered quickly. “They told me so yesterday. Where is + he, though?” + </p> + <p> + I looked in the direction of the square and there I descried Maksim + Maksimych running as hard as he could. In a few moments he was beside us. + He was scarcely able to breathe; perspiration was rolling in large drops + from his face; wet tufts of grey hair, escaping from under his cap, were + glued to his forehead; his knees were shaking... He was about to throw + himself on Pechorin’s neck, but the latter, rather coldly, though with a + smile of welcome, stretched out his hand to him. For a moment the + staff-captain was petrified, but then eagerly seized Pechorin’s hand in + both his own. He was still unable to speak. + </p> + <p> + “How glad I am to see you, my dear Maksim Maksimych! Well, how are you?” + said Pechorin. + </p> + <p> + “And... thou... you?” <a href="#linknote-20" name="linknoteref-20" + id="linknoteref-20"><small>20</small></a> murmured the old man, with tears + in his eyes. “What an age it is since I have seen you!... But where are + you off to?”... + </p> + <p> + “I am going to Persia—and farther.”... + </p> + <p> + “But surely not immediately?... Wait a little, my dear fellow!... Surely + we are not going to part at once?... What a long time it is since we have + seen each other!”... + </p> + <p> + “It is time for me to go, Maksim Maksimych,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, good heavens! But where are you going to in such a hurry? + There was so much I should have liked to tell you! So much to question you + about!... Well, what of yourself? Have you retired?... What?... How have + you been getting along?” + </p> + <p> + “Getting bored!” answered Pechorin, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “You remember the life we led in the fortress? A splendid country for + hunting! You were awfully fond of shooting, you know!... And Bela?”... + </p> + <p> + Pechorin turned just the slightest bit pale and averted his head. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember!” he said, almost immediately forcing a yawn. + </p> + <p> + Maksim Maksimych began to beg him to stay with him for a couple of hours + or so longer. + </p> + <p> + “We will have a splendid dinner,” he said. “I have two pheasants; and the + Kakhetian wine is excellent here... not what it is in Georgia, of course, + but still of the best sort... We will have a talk... You will tell me + about your life in Petersburg... Eh?”... + </p> + <p> + “In truth, there’s nothing for me to tell, dear Maksim Maksimych... + However, good-bye, it is time for me to be off... I am in a hurry... I + thank you for not having forgotten me,” he added, taking him by the hand. + </p> + <p> + The old man knit his brows. He was grieved and angry, although he tried to + hide his feelings. + </p> + <p> + “Forget!” he growled. “I have not forgotten anything... Well, God be with + you!... It is not like this that I thought we should meet.” + </p> + <p> + “Come! That will do, that will do!” said Pechorin, giving him a friendly + embrace. “Is it possible that I am not the same as I used to be?... What + can we do? Everyone must go his own way... Are we ever going to meet + again?—God only knows!” + </p> + <p> + While saying this he had taken his seat in the carriage, and the coachman + was already gathering up the reins. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, wait!” cried Maksim Maksimych suddenly, holding on to the carriage + door. “I was nearly forgetting altogether. Your papers were left with me, + Grigori Aleksandrovich... I drag them about everywhere I go... I thought I + should find you in Georgia, but this is where it has pleased Heaven that + we should meet. What’s to be done with them?”... + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you like!” answered Pechorin. “Good-bye.”... + </p> + <p> + “So you are off to Persia?... But when will you return?” Maksim Maksimych + cried after him. + </p> + <p> + By this time the carriage was a long way off, but Pechorin made a sign + with his hand which might be interpreted as meaning: + </p> + <p> + “It is doubtful whether I shall return, and there is no reason, either, + why I should!” + </p> + <p> + The jingle of the bell and the clatter of the wheels along the flinty road + had long ceased to be audible, but the poor old man still remained + standing in the same place, deep in thought. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said at length, endeavouring to assume an air of indifference, + although from time to time a tear of vexation glistened on his eyelashes. + “Of course we were friends—well, but what are friends nowadays?... + What could I be to him? I’m not rich; I’ve no rank; and, moreover, I’m not + at all his match in years!—See what a dandy he has become since he + has been staying in Petersburg again!... What a carriage!... What a + quantity of luggage!... And such a haughty manservant too!”... + </p> + <p> + These words were pronounced with an ironical smile. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” he continued, turning to me, “what do you think of it? Come, + what the devil is he off to Persia for now?... Good Lord, it is ridiculous—ridiculous!... + But I always knew that he was a fickle man, and one you could never rely + on!... But, indeed, it is a pity that he should come to a bad end... yet + it can’t be otherwise!... I always did say that there is no good to be got + out of a man who forgets his old friends!”... + </p> + <p> + Hereupon he turned away in order to hide his agitation and proceeded to + walk about the courtyard, around his cart, pretending to be examining the + wheels, whilst his eyes kept filling with tears every moment. + </p> + <p> + “Maksim Maksimych,” I said, going up to him, “what papers are these that + Pechorin left you?” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness knows! Notes of some sort”... + </p> + <p> + “What will you do with them?” + </p> + <p> + “What? I’ll have cartridges made of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Hand them over to me instead.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me in surprise, growled something through his teeth, and + began to rummage in his portmanteau. Out he drew a writing-book and threw + it contemptuously on the ground; then a second—a third—a tenth + shared the same fate. There was something childish in his vexation, and it + struck me as ridiculous and pitiable... + </p> + <p> + “Here they are,” he said. “I congratulate you on your find!”... + </p> + <p> + “And I may do anything I like with them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, print them in the newspapers, if you like. What is it to me? Am I a + friend or relation of his? It is true that for a long time we lived under + one roof... but aren’t there plenty of people with whom I have lived?”... + </p> + <p> + I seized the papers and lost no time in carrying them away, fearing that + the staff-captain might repent his action. Soon somebody came to tell us + that the “Adventure” would set off in an hour’s time. I ordered the horses + to be put to. + </p> + <p> + I had already put my cap on when the staff-captain entered the room. + Apparently he had not got ready for departure. His manner was somewhat + cold and constrained. + </p> + <p> + “You are not going, then, Maksim Maksimych?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “But why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have not seen the Commandant yet, and I have to deliver some + Government things.” + </p> + <p> + “But you did go, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I did, of course,” he stammered, “but he was not at home... and I did not + wait.” + </p> + <p> + I understood. For the first time in his life, probably, the poor old man + had, to speak by the book, thrown aside official business ‘for the sake of + his personal requirements’... and how he had been rewarded! + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry, Maksim Maksimych, very sorry indeed,” I said, “that we + must part sooner than necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “What should we rough old men be thinking of to run after you? You young + men are fashionable and proud: under the Circassian bullets you are + friendly enough with us... but when you meet us afterwards you are ashamed + even to give us your hand!” + </p> + <p> + “I have not deserved these reproaches, Maksim Maksimych.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you know I’m quite right. However, I wish you all good luck and + a pleasant journey.” + </p> + <p> + We took a rather cold farewell of each other. The kind-hearted Maksim + Maksimych had become the obstinate, cantankerous staff-captain! And why? + Because Pechorin, through absent-mindedness or from some other cause, had + extended his hand to him when Maksim Maksimych was going to throw himself + on his neck! Sad it is to see when a young man loses his best hopes and + dreams, when from before his eyes is withdrawn the rose-hued veil through + which he has looked upon the deeds and feelings of mankind; although there + is the hope that the old illusions will be replaced by new ones, none the + less evanescent, but, on the other hand, none the less sweet. But + wherewith can they be replaced when one is at the age of Maksim Maksimych? + Do what you will, the heart hardens and the soul shrinks in upon itself. + </p> + <p> + I departed—alone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_FORE2" id="link2H_FORE2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOREWORD TO BOOKS III, IV, AND V + </h2> + <p> + CONCERNING PECHORIN’S DIARY + </p> + <p> + I LEARNED not long ago that Pechorin had died on his way back from Persia. + The news afforded me great delight; it gave me the right to print these + notes; and I have taken advantage of the opportunity of putting my name at + the head of another person’s productions. Heaven grant that my readers may + not punish me for such an innocent deception! + </p> + <p> + I must now give some explanation of the reasons which have induced me to + betray to the public the inmost secrets of a man whom I never knew. If I + had even been his friend, well and good: the artful indiscretion of the + true friend is intelligible to everybody; but I only saw Pechorin once in + my life—on the high-road—and, consequently, I cannot cherish + towards him that inexplicable hatred, which, hiding its face under the + mask of friendship, awaits but the death or misfortune of the beloved + object to burst over its head in a storm of reproaches, admonitions, + scoffs and regrets. + </p> + <p> + On reading over these notes, I have become convinced of the sincerity of + the man who has so unsparingly exposed to view his own weaknesses and + vices. The history of a man’s soul, even the pettiest soul, is hardly less + interesting and useful than the history of a whole people; especially when + the former is the result of the observations of a mature mind upon itself, + and has been written without any egoistical desire of arousing sympathy or + astonishment. Rousseau’s Confessions has precisely this defect—he + read it to his friends. + </p> + <p> + And, so, it is nothing but the desire to be useful that has constrained me + to print fragments of this diary which fell into my hands by chance. + Although I have altered all the proper names, those who are mentioned in + it will probably recognise themselves, and, it may be, will find some + justification for actions for which they have hitherto blamed a man who + has ceased henceforth to have anything in common with this world. We + almost always excuse that which we understand. + </p> + <p> + I have inserted in this book only those portions of the diary which refer + to Pechorin’s sojourn in the Caucasus. There still remains in my hands a + thick writing-book in which he tells the story of his whole life. Some + time or other that, too, will present itself before the tribunal of the + world, but, for many and weighty reasons, I do not venture to take such a + responsibility upon myself now. + </p> + <p> + Possibly some readers would like to know my own opinion of Pechorin’s + character. My answer is: the title of this book. “But that is malicious + irony!” they will say... I know not. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK III THE FIRST EXTRACT FROM PECHORIN’S DIARY + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TAMAN + </h2> + <p> + TAMAN is the nastiest little hole of all the seaports of Russia. I was all + but starved there, to say nothing of having a narrow escape of being + drowned. + </p> + <p> + I arrived late at night by the post-car. The driver stopped the tired + troika <a href="#linknote-21" name="linknoteref-21" id="linknoteref-21"><small>21</small></a> + at the gate of the only stone-built house that stood at the entrance to + the town. The sentry, a Cossack from the Black Sea, hearing the jingle of + the bell, cried out, sleepily, in his barbarous voice, “Who goes there?” + An under-officer of Cossacks and a headborough <a href="#linknote-22" + name="linknoteref-22" id="linknoteref-22"><small>22</small></a> came out. + I explained that I was an officer bound for the active-service detachment + on Government business, and I proceeded to demand official quarters. The + headborough conducted us round the town. Whatever hut we drove up to we + found to be occupied. The weather was cold; I had not slept for three + nights; I was tired out, and I began to lose my temper. + </p> + <p> + “Take me somewhere or other, you scoundrel!” I cried; “to the devil + himself, so long as there’s a place to put up at!” + </p> + <p> + “There is one other lodging,” answered the headborough, scratching his + head. “Only you won’t like it, sir. It is uncanny!” + </p> + <p> + Failing to grasp the exact signification of the last phrase, I ordered him + to go on, and, after a lengthy peregrination through muddy byways, at the + sides of which I could see nothing but old fences, we drove up to a small + cabin, right on the shore of the sea. + </p> + <p> + The full moon was shining on the little reed-thatched roof and the white + walls of my new dwelling. In the courtyard, which was surrounded by a wall + of rubble-stone, there stood another miserable hovel, smaller and older + than the first and all askew. The shore descended precipitously to the + sea, almost from its very walls, and down below, with incessant murmur, + plashed the dark-blue waves. The moon gazed softly upon the watery + element, restless but obedient to it, and I was able by its light to + distinguish two ships lying at some distance from the shore, their black + rigging motionless and standing out, like cobwebs, against the pale line + of the horizon. + </p> + <p> + “There are vessels in the harbour,” I said to myself. “To-morrow I will + set out for Gelenjik.” + </p> + <p> + I had with me, in the capacity of soldier-servant, a Cossack of the + frontier army. Ordering him to take down the portmanteau and dismiss the + driver, I began to call the master of the house. No answer! I knocked—all + was silent within!... What could it mean? At length a boy of about + fourteen crept out from the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the master?” + </p> + <p> + “There isn’t one.” + </p> + <p> + “What! No master?” + </p> + <p> + “None!” + </p> + <p> + “And the mistress?” + </p> + <p> + “She has gone off to the village.” + </p> + <p> + “Who will open the door for me, then?” I said, giving it a kick. + </p> + <p> + The door opened of its own accord, and a breath of moisture-laden air was + wafted from the hut. I struck a lucifer match and held it to the boy’s + face. It lit up two white eyes. He was totally blind, obviously so from + birth. He stood stock-still before me, and I began to examine his + features. + </p> + <p> + I confess that I have a violent prejudice against all blind, one-eyed, + deaf, dumb, legless, armless, hunchbacked, and such-like people. I have + observed that there is always a certain strange connection between a man’s + exterior and his soul; as, if when the body loses a limb, the soul also + loses some power of feeling. + </p> + <p> + And so I began to examine the blind boy’s face. But what could be read + upon a face from which the eyes are missing?... For a long time I gazed at + him with involuntary compassion, when suddenly a scarcely perceptible + smile flitted over his thin lips, producing, I know not why, a most + unpleasant impression upon me. I began to feel a suspicion that the blind + boy was not so blind as he appeared to be. In vain I endeavoured to + convince myself that it was impossible to counterfeit cataracts; and + besides, what reason could there be for doing such a thing? But I could + not help my suspicions. I am easily swayed by prejudice... + </p> + <p> + “You are the master’s son?” I asked at length. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “An orphan—a poor boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Has the mistress any children?” + </p> + <p> + “No, her daughter ran away and crossed the sea with a Tartar.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a Tartar?” + </p> + <p> + “The devil only knows! A Crimean Tartar, a boatman from Kerch.” + </p> + <p> + I entered the hut. Its whole furniture consisted of two benches and a + table, together with an enormous chest beside the stove. There was not a + single ikon to be seen on the wall—a bad sign! The sea-wind burst in + through the broken window-pane. I drew a wax candle-end from my + portmanteau, lit it, and began to put my things out. My sabre and gun I + placed in a corner, my pistols I laid on the table. I spread my felt cloak + out on one bench, and the Cossack his on the other. In ten minutes the + latter was snoring, but I could not go to sleep—the image of the boy + with the white eyes kept hovering before me in the dark. + </p> + <p> + About an hour passed thus. The moon shone in at the window and its rays + played along the earthen floor of the hut. Suddenly a shadow flitted + across the bright strip of moonshine which intersected the floor. I raised + myself up a little and glanced out of the window. Again somebody ran by it + and disappeared—goodness knows where! It seemed impossible for + anyone to descend the steep cliff overhanging the shore, but that was the + only thing that could have happened. I rose, threw on my tunic, girded on + a dagger, and with the utmost quietness went out of the hut. The blind boy + was coming towards me. I hid by the fence, and he passed by me with a sure + but cautious step. He was carrying a parcel under his arm. He turned + towards the harbour and began to descend a steep and narrow path. + </p> + <p> + “On that day the dumb will cry out and the blind will see,” I said to + myself, following him just close enough to keep him in sight. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the moon was becoming overcast by clouds and a mist had risen + upon the sea. The lantern alight in the stern of a ship close at hand was + scarcely visible through the mist, and by the shore there glimmered the + foam of the waves, which every moment threatened to submerge it. + Descending with difficulty, I stole along the steep declivity, and all at + once I saw the blind boy come to a standstill and then turn down to the + right. He walked so close to the water’s edge that it seemed as if the + waves would straightway seize him and carry him off. But, judging by the + confidence with which he stepped from rock to rock and avoided the + water-channels, this was evidently not the first time that he had made + that journey. Finally he stopped, as though listening for something, + squatted down upon the ground, and laid the parcel beside him. Concealing + myself behind a projecting rock on the shore, I kept watch on his + movements. After a few minutes a white figure made its appearance from the + opposite direction. It came up to the blind boy and sat down beside him. + At times the wind wafted their conversation to me. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said a woman’s voice. “The storm is violent; Yanko will not be + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yanko is not afraid of the storm!” the other replied. + </p> + <p> + “The mist is thickening,” rejoined the woman’s voice, sadness in its tone. + </p> + <p> + “In the mist it is all the easier to slip past the guardships,” was the + answer. + </p> + <p> + “And if he is drowned?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what then? On Sunday you won’t have a new ribbon to go to church + in.” + </p> + <p> + An interval of silence followed. One thing, however, struck me—in + talking to me the blind boy spoke in the Little Russian dialect, but now + he was expressing himself in pure Russian. + </p> + <p> + “You see, I am right!” the blind boy went on, clapping his hands. “Yanko + is not afraid of sea, nor winds, nor mist, nor coastguards! Just listen! + That is not the water plashing, you can’t deceive me—it is his long + oars.” + </p> + <p> + The woman sprang up and began anxiously to gaze into the distance. + </p> + <p> + “You are raving!” she said. “I cannot see anything.” + </p> + <p> + I confess that, much as I tried to make out in the distance something + resembling a boat, my efforts were unsuccessful. About ten minutes passed + thus, when a black speck appeared between the mountains of the waves! At + one time it grew larger, at another smaller. Slowly rising upon the crests + of the waves and swiftly descending from them, the boat drew near to the + shore. + </p> + <p> + “He must be a brave sailor,” I thought, “to have determined to cross the + twenty versts of strait on a night like this, and he must have had a + weighty reason for doing so.” + </p> + <p> + Reflecting thus, I gazed with an involuntary beating of the heart at the + poor boat. It dived like a duck, and then, with rapidly swinging oars—like + wings—it sprang forth from the abyss amid the splashes of the foam. + “Ah!” I thought, “it will be dashed against the shore with all its force + and broken to pieces!” But it turned aside adroitly and leaped unharmed + into a little creek. Out of it stepped a man of medium height, wearing a + Tartar sheepskin cap. He waved his hand, and all three set to work to drag + something out of the boat. The cargo was so large that, to this day, I + cannot understand how it was that the boat did not sink. + </p> + <p> + Each of them shouldered a bundle, and they set off along the shore, and I + soon lost sight of them. I had to return home; but I confess I was + rendered uneasy by all these strange happenings, and I found it hard to + await the morning. + </p> + <p> + My Cossack was very much astonished when, on waking up, he saw me fully + dressed. I did not, however, tell him the reason. For some time I stood at + the window, gazing admiringly at the blue sky all studded with wisps of + cloud, and at the distant shore of the Crimea, stretching out in a + lilac-coloured streak and ending in a cliff, on the summit of which the + white tower of the lighthouse was gleaming. Then I betook myself to the + fortress, Phanagoriya, in order to ascertain from the Commandant at what + hour I should depart for Gelenjik. + </p> + <p> + But the Commandant, alas! could not give me any definite information. The + vessels lying in the harbour were all either guard-ships or + merchant-vessels which had not yet even begun to take in lading. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe in about three or four days’ time a mail-boat will come in,” said + the Commandant, “and then we shall see.” + </p> + <p> + I returned home sulky and wrathful. My Cossack met me at the door with a + frightened countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Things are looking bad, sir!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my friend; goodness only knows when we shall get away!” + </p> + <p> + Hereupon he became still more uneasy, and, bending towards me, he said in + a whisper: + </p> + <p> + “It is uncanny here! I met an under-officer from the Black Sea to-day—he’s + an acquaintance of mine—he was in my detachment last year. When I + told him where we were staying, he said, ‘That place is uncanny, old + fellow; they’re wicked people there!’... And, indeed, what sort of a blind + boy is that? He goes everywhere alone, to fetch water and to buy bread at + the bazaar. It is evident they have become accustomed to that sort of + thing here.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what then? Tell me, though, has the mistress of the place put in an + appearance?” + </p> + <p> + “During your absence to-day, an old woman and her daughter arrived.” + </p> + <p> + “What daughter? She has no daughter!” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness knows who it can be if it isn’t her daughter; but the old woman + is sitting over there in the hut now.” + </p> + <p> + I entered the hovel. A blazing fire was burning in the stove, and they + were cooking a dinner which struck me as being a rather luxurious one for + poor people. To all my questions the old woman replied that she was deaf + and could not hear me. There was nothing to be got out of her. I turned to + the blind boy who was sitting in front of the stove, putting twigs into + the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, you little blind devil,” I said, taking him by the ear. “Tell + me, where were you roaming with the bundle last night, eh?” + </p> + <p> + The blind boy suddenly burst out weeping, shrieking and wailing. + </p> + <p> + “Where did I go? I did not go anywhere... With the bundle?... What + bundle?” + </p> + <p> + This time the old woman heard, and she began to mutter: + </p> + <p> + “Hark at them plotting, and against a poor boy too! What are you touching + him for? What has he done to you?” + </p> + <p> + I had enough of it, and went out, firmly resolved to find the key to the + riddle. + </p> + <p> + I wrapped myself up in my felt cloak and, sitting down on a rock by the + fence, gazed into the distance. Before me stretched the sea, agitated by + the storm of the previous night, and its monotonous roar, like the murmur + of a town over which slumber is beginning to creep, recalled bygone years + to my mind, and transported my thoughts northward to our cold Capital. + Agitated by my recollections, I became oblivious of my surroundings. + </p> + <p> + About an hour passed thus, perhaps even longer. Suddenly something + resembling a song struck upon my ear. It was a song, and the voice was a + woman’s, young and fresh—but, where was it coming from?... I + listened; it was a harmonious melody—now long-drawnout and + plaintive, now swift and lively. I looked around me—there was nobody + to be seen. I listened again—the sounds seemed to be falling from + the sky. I raised my eyes. On the roof of my cabin was standing a young + girl in a striped dress and with her hair hanging loose—a regular + water-nymph. Shading her eyes from the sun’s rays with the palm of her + hand, she was gazing intently into the distance. At one time, she would + laugh and talk to herself, at another, she would strike up her song anew. + </p> + <p> + I have retained that song in my memory, word for word: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At their own free will + + They seem to wander + + O’er the green sea yonder, + + Those ships, as still + + They are onward going, + + With white sails flowing. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And among those ships + + My eye can mark + + My own dear barque: + + By two oars guided + + (All unprovided + + With sails) it slips. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The storm-wind raves: + + And the old ships—see! + + With wings spread free, + + Over the waves + + They scatter and flee! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sea I will hail + + With obeisance deep: + + “Thou base one, hark! + + Thou must not fail + + My little barque + + From harm to keep!” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + For lo! ‘tis bearing + + Most precious gear, + + And brave and daring + + The arms that steer + + Within the dark + + My little barque. +</pre> + <p> + Involuntarily the thought occurred to me that I had heard the same voice + the night before. I reflected for a moment, and when I looked up at the + roof again there was no girl to be seen. Suddenly she darted past me, with + another song on her lips, and, snapping her fingers, she ran up to the old + woman. Thereupon a quarrel arose between them. The old woman grew angry, + and the girl laughed loudly. And then I saw my Undine running and + gambolling again. She came up to where I was, stopped, and gazed fixedly + into my face as if surprised at my presence. Then she turned carelessly + away and went quietly towards the harbour. But this was not all. The whole + day she kept hovering around my lodging, singing and gambolling without a + moment’s interruption. Strange creature! There was not the slightest sign + of insanity in her face; on the contrary, her eyes, which were continually + resting upon me, were bright and piercing. Moreover, they seemed to be + endowed with a certain magnetic power, and each time they looked at me + they appeared to be expecting a question. But I had only to open my lips + to speak, and away she would run, with a sly smile. + </p> + <p> + Certainly never before had I seen a woman like her. She was by no means + beautiful; but, as in other matters, I have my own prepossessions on the + subject of beauty. There was a good deal of breeding in her... Breeding in + women, as in horses, is a great thing: a discovery, the credit of which + belongs to young France. It—that is to say, breeding, not young + France—is chiefly to be detected in the gait, in the hands and feet; + the nose, in particular, is of the greatest significance. In Russia a + straight nose is rarer than a small foot. + </p> + <p> + My songstress appeared to be not more than eighteen years of age. The + unusual suppleness of her figure, the characteristic and original way she + had of inclining her head, her long, light-brown hair, the golden sheen of + her slightly sunburnt neck and shoulders, and especially her straight nose—all + these held me fascinated. Although in her sidelong glances I could read a + certain wildness and disdain, although in her smile there was a certain + vagueness, yet—such is the force of predilections—that + straight nose of hers drove me crazy. I fancied that I had found Goethe’s + Mignon—that queer creature of his German imagination. And, indeed, + there was a good deal of similarity between them; the same rapid + transitions from the utmost restlessness to complete immobility, the same + enigmatical speeches, the same gambols, the same strange songs. + </p> + <p> + Towards evening I stopped her at the door and entered into the following + conversation with her. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, my beauty,” I asked, “what were you doing on the roof to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I was looking to see from what direction the wind was blowing.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you want to know for?” + </p> + <p> + “Whence the wind blows comes happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Well? Were you invoking happiness with your song?” + </p> + <p> + “Where there is singing there is also happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “But what if your song were to bring you sorrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what then? Where things won’t be better, they will be worse; and + from bad to good again is not far.” + </p> + <p> + “And who taught you that song?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody taught me; it comes into my head and I sing; whoever is to hear + it, he will hear it, and whoever ought not to hear it, he will not + understand it.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your name, my songstress?” + </p> + <p> + “He who baptized me knows.” + </p> + <p> + “And who baptized you?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I know?” + </p> + <p> + “What a secretive girl you are! But look here, I have learned something + about you”—she neither changed countenance nor moved her lips, as + though my discovery was of no concern to her—“I have learned that + you went to the shore last night.” + </p> + <p> + And, thereupon, I very gravely retailed to her all that I had seen, + thinking that I should embarrass her. Not a bit of it! She burst out + laughing heartily. + </p> + <p> + “You have seen much, but know little; and what you do know, see that you + keep it under lock and key.” + </p> + <p> + “But supposing, now, I was to take it into my head to inform the + Commandant?” and here I assumed a very serious, not to say stern, + demeanour. + </p> + <p> + She gave a sudden spring, began to sing, and hid herself like a bird + frightened out of a thicket. My last words were altogether out of place. I + had no suspicion then how momentous they were, but afterwards I had + occasion to rue them. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the dusk of evening fell, I ordered the Cossack to heat the + teapot, campaign fashion. I lighted a candle and sat down by the table, + smoking my travelling-pipe. I was just about to finish my second tumbler + of tea when suddenly the door creaked and I heard behind me the sound of + footsteps and the light rustle of a dress. I started and turned round. + </p> + <p> + It was she—my Undine. Softly and without saying a word she sat down + opposite to me and fixed her eyes upon me. Her glance seemed wondrously + tender, I know not why; it reminded me of one of those glances which, in + years gone by, so despotically played with my life. She seemed to be + waiting for a question, but I kept silence, filled with an inexplicable + sense of embarrassment. Mental agitation was evinced by the dull pallor + which overspread her countenance; her hand, which I noticed was trembling + slightly, moved aimlessly about the table. At one time her breast heaved, + and at another she seemed to be holding her breath. This little comedy was + beginning to pall upon me, and I was about to break the silence in a most + prosaic manner, that is, by offering her a glass of tea; when suddenly, + springing up, she threw her arms around my neck, and I felt her moist, + fiery lips pressed upon mine. Darkness came before my eyes, my head began + to swim. I embraced her with the whole strength of youthful passion. But, + like a snake, she glided from between my arms, whispering in my ear as she + did so: + </p> + <p> + “To-night, when everyone is asleep, go out to the shore.” + </p> + <p> + Like an arrow she sprang from the room. + </p> + <p> + In the hall she upset the teapot and a candle which was standing on the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “Little devil!” cried the Cossack, who had taken up his position on the + straw and had contemplated warming himself with the remains of the tea. + </p> + <p> + It was only then that I recovered my senses. + </p> + <p> + In about two hours’ time, when all had grown silent in the harbour, I + awakened my Cossack. + </p> + <p> + “If I fire a pistol,” I said, “run to the shore.” + </p> + <p> + He stared open-eyed and answered mechanically: + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir.” + </p> + <p> + I stuffed a pistol in my belt and went out. She was waiting for me at the + edge of the cliff. Her attire was more than light, and a small kerchief + girded her supple waist. + </p> + <p> + “Follow me!” she said, taking me by the hand, and we began to descend. + </p> + <p> + I cannot understand how it was that I did not break my neck. Down below we + turned to the right and proceeded to take the path along which I had + followed the blind boy the evening before. The moon had not yet risen, and + only two little stars, like two guardian lighthouses, were twinkling in + the dark-blue vault of heaven. The heavy waves, with measured and even + motion, rolled one after the other, scarcely lifting the solitary boat + which was moored to the shore. + </p> + <p> + “Let us get into the boat,” said my companion. + </p> + <p> + I hesitated. I am no lover of sentimental trips on the sea; but this was + not the time to draw back. She leaped into the boat, and I after her; and + I had not time to recover my wits before I observed that we were adrift. + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of this?” I said angrily. + </p> + <p> + “It means,” she answered, seating me on the bench and throwing her arms + around my waist, “it means that I love you!”... + </p> + <p> + Her cheek was pressed close to mine, and I felt her burning breath upon my + face. Suddenly something fell noisily into the water. I clutched at my + belt—my pistol was gone! Ah, now a terrible suspicion crept into my + soul, and the blood rushed to my head! I looked round. We were about fifty + fathoms from the shore, and I could not swim a stroke! I tried to thrust + her away from me, but she clung like a cat to my clothes, and suddenly a + violent wrench all but threw me into the sea. The boat rocked, but I + righted myself, and a desperate struggle began. + </p> + <p> + Fury lent me strength, but I soon found that I was no match for my + opponent in point of agility... + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” I cried, firmly squeezing her little hands. + </p> + <p> + Her fingers crunched, but her serpent-like nature bore up against the + torture, and she did not utter a cry. + </p> + <p> + “You saw us,” she answered. “You will tell on us.” + </p> + <p> + And, with a supernatural effort, she flung me on to the side of the boat; + we both hung half overboard; her hair touched the water. The decisive + moment had come. I planted my knee against the bottom of the boat, caught + her by the tresses with one hand and by the throat with the other; she let + go my clothes, and, in an instant, I had thrown her into the waves. + </p> + <p> + It was now rather dark; once or twice her head appeared for an instant + amidst the sea foam, and I saw no more of her. + </p> + <p> + I found the half of an old oar at the bottom of the boat, and somehow or + other, after lengthy efforts, I made fast to the harbour. Making my way + along the shore towards my hut, I involuntarily gazed in the direction of + the spot where, on the previous night, the blind boy had awaited the + nocturnal mariner. The moon was already rolling through the sky, and it + seemed to me that somebody in white was sitting on the shore. Spurred by + curiosity, I crept up and crouched down in the grass on the top of the + cliff. By thrusting my head out a little way I was able to get a good view + of everything that was happening down below, and I was not very much + astonished, but almost rejoiced, when I recognised my water-nymph. She was + wringing the seafoam from her long hair. Her wet garment outlined her + supple figure and her high bosom. + </p> + <p> + Soon a boat appeared in the distance; it drew near rapidly; and, as on the + night before, a man in a Tartar cap stepped out of it, but he now had his + hair cropped round in the Cossack fashion, and a large knife was sticking + out behind his leather belt. + </p> + <p> + “Yanko,” the girl said, “all is lost!” + </p> + <p> + Then their conversation continued, but so softly that I could not catch a + word of it. + </p> + <p> + “But where is the blind boy?” said Yanko at last, raising his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I have told him to come,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + After a few minutes the blind boy appeared, dragging on his back a sack, + which they placed in the boat. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” said Yanko to the blind boy. “Guard that place! You know where I + mean? There are valuable goods there. Tell”—I could not catch the + name—“that I am no longer his servant. Things have gone badly. He + will see me no more. It is dangerous now. I will go seek work in another + place, and he will never be able to find another dare-devil like me. Tell + him also that if he had paid me a little better for my labours, I would + not have forsaken him. For me there is a way anywhere, if only the wind + blows and the sea roars.” + </p> + <p> + After a short silence Yanko continued. + </p> + <p> + “She is coming with me. It is impossible for her to remain here. Tell the + old woman that it is time for her to die; she has been here a long time, + and the line must be drawn somewhere. As for us, she will never see us any + more.” + </p> + <p> + “And I?” said the blind boy in a plaintive voice. + </p> + <p> + “What use have I for you?” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime my Undine had sprung into the boat. She beckoned to her + companion with her hand. He placed something in the blind boy’s hand and + added: + </p> + <p> + “There, buy yourself some gingerbreads.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this all?” said the blind boy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here is some more.” + </p> + <p> + The money fell and jingled as it struck the rock. + </p> + <p> + The blind boy did not pick it up. Yanko took his seat in the boat; the + wind was blowing from the shore; they hoisted the little sail and sped + rapidly away. For a long time the white sail gleamed in the moonlight amid + the dark waves. Still the blind boy remained seated upon the shore, and + then I heard something which sounded like sobbing. The blind boy was, in + fact, weeping, and for a long, long time his tears flowed... I grew + heavy-hearted. For what reason should fate have thrown me into the + peaceful circle of honourable smugglers? Like a stone cast into a smooth + well, I had disturbed their quietude, and I barely escaped going to the + bottom like a stone. + </p> + <p> + I returned home. In the hall the burnt-out candle was spluttering on a + wooden platter, and my Cossack, contrary to orders, was fast asleep, with + his gun held in both hands. I left him at rest, took the candle, and + entered the hut. Alas! my cashbox, my sabre with the silver chasing, my + Daghestan dagger—the gift of a friend—all had vanished! It was + then that I guessed what articles the cursed blind boy had been dragging + along. Roughly shaking the Cossack, I woke him up, rated him, and lost my + temper. But what was the good of that? And would it not have been + ridiculous to complain to the authorities that I had been robbed by a + blind boy and all but drowned by an eighteen-year-old girl? + </p> + <p> + Thank heaven an opportunity of getting away presented itself in the + morning, and I left Taman. + </p> + <p> + What became of the old woman and the poor blind boy I know not. And, + besides, what are the joys and sorrows of mankind to me—me, a + travelling officer, and one, moreover, with an order for post-horses on + Government business? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK IV THE SECOND EXTRACT FROM PECHORIN’S DIARY + </h2> + <p> + THE FATALIST + </p> + <p> + I ONCE happened to spend a couple of weeks in a Cossack village on our + left flank. A battalion of infantry was stationed there; and it was the + custom of the officers to meet at each other’s quarters in turn and play + cards in the evening. + </p> + <p> + On one occasion—it was at Major S——‘s—finding our + game of Boston not sufficiently absorbing, we threw the cards under the + table and sat on for a long time, talking. The conversation, for once in a + way, was interesting. The subject was the Mussulman tradition that a man’s + fate is written in heaven, and we discussed the fact that it was gaining + many votaries, even amongst our own countrymen. Each of us related various + extraordinary occurrences, pro or contra. + </p> + <p> + “What you have been saying, gentlemen, proves nothing,” said the old + major. “I presume there is not one of you who has actually been a witness + of the strange events which you are citing in support of your opinions?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one, of course,” said many of the guests. “But we have heard of them + from trustworthy people.”... + </p> + <p> + “It is all nonsense!” someone said. “Where are the trustworthy people who + have seen the Register in which the appointed hour of our death is + recorded?... And if predestination really exists, why are free will and + reason granted us? Why are we obliged to render an account of our + actions?” + </p> + <p> + At that moment an officer who was sitting in a corner of the room stood + up, and, coming slowly to the table, surveyed us all with a quiet and + solemn glance. He was a native of Servia, as was evident from his name. + </p> + <p> + The outward appearance of Lieutenant Vulich was quite in keeping with his + character. His height, swarthy complexion, black hair, piercing black + eyes, large but straight nose—an attribute of his nation—and + the cold and melancholy smile which ever hovered around his lips, all + seemed to concur in lending him the appearance of a man apart, incapable + of reciprocating the thoughts and passions of those whom fate gave him for + companions. + </p> + <p> + He was brave; talked little, but sharply; confided his thoughts and family + secrets to no one; drank hardly a drop of wine; and never dangled after + the young Cossack girls, whose charm it is difficult to realise without + having seen them. It was said, however, that the colonel’s wife was not + indifferent to those expressive eyes of his; but he was seriously angry if + any hint on the subject was made. + </p> + <p> + There was only one passion which he did not conceal—the passion for + gambling. At the green table he would become oblivious of everything. He + usually lost, but his constant ill success only aroused his obstinacy. It + was related that, on one occasion, during a nocturnal expedition, he was + keeping the bank on a pillow, and had a terrific run of luck. Suddenly + shots rang out. The alarm was sounded; all but Vulich jumped up and rushed + to arms. + </p> + <p> + “Stake, va banque!” he cried to one of the most ardent gamblers. + </p> + <p> + “Seven,” the latter answered as he hurried off. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the general confusion, Vulich calmly finished the deal—seven + was the card. By the time he reached the cordon a violent fusillade was in + progress. Vulich did not trouble himself about the bullets or the sabres + of the Chechenes, but sought for the lucky gambler. + </p> + <p> + “Seven it was!” he cried out, as at length he perceived him in the cordon + of skirmishers who were beginning to dislodge the enemy from the wood; and + going up to him, he drew out his purse and pocket-book and handed them to + the winner, notwithstanding the latter’s objections on the score of the + inconvenience of the payment. That unpleasant duty discharged, Vulich + dashed forward, carried the soldiers along after him, and, to the very end + of the affair, fought the Chechenes with the utmost coolness. + </p> + <p> + When Lieutenant Vulich came up to the table, we all became silent, + expecting to hear, as usual, something original. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen!” he said—and his voice was quiet though lower in tone + than usual—“gentlemen, what is the good of futile discussions? You + wish for proofs? I propose that we try the experiment on ourselves: + whether a man can of his own accord dispose of his life, or whether the + fateful moment is appointed beforehand for each of us. Who is agreeable?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I. Not I,” came from all sides. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a queer fellow for you! He does get strange ideas into his head!” + </p> + <p> + “I propose a wager,” I said in jest. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of wager?” + </p> + <p> + “I maintain that there is no such thing as predestination,” I said, + scattering on the table a score or so of ducats—all I had in my + pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Done,” answered Vulich in a hollow voice. “Major, you will be judge. Here + are fifteen ducats, the remaining five you owe me, kindly add them to the + others.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said the major; “though, indeed, I do not understand what is + the question at issue and how you will decide it!” + </p> + <p> + Without a word Vulich went into the major’s bedroom, and we followed him. + He went up to the wall on which the major’s weapons were hanging, and took + down at random one of the pistols—of which there were several of + different calibres. We were still in the dark as to what he meant to do. + But, when he cocked the pistol and sprinkled powder in the pan, several of + the officers, crying out in spite of themselves, seized him by the arms. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” they exclaimed. “This is madness!” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen!” he said slowly, disengaging his arm. “Who would like to pay + twenty ducats for me?” + </p> + <p> + They were silent and drew away. + </p> + <p> + Vulich went into the other room and sat by the table; we all followed him. + With a sign he invited us to sit round him. We obeyed in silence—at + that moment he had acquired a certain mysterious authority over us. I + stared fixedly into his face; but he met my scrutinising gaze with a quiet + and steady glance, and his pallid lips smiled. But, notwithstanding his + composure, it seemed to me that I could read the stamp of death upon his + pale countenance. I have noticed—and many old soldiers have + corroborated my observation—that a man who is to die in a few hours + frequently bears on his face a certain strange stamp of inevitable fate, + so that it is difficult for practised eyes to be mistaken. + </p> + <p> + “You will die to-day!” I said to Vulich. + </p> + <p> + He turned towards me rapidly, but answered slowly and quietly: + </p> + <p> + “May be so, may be not.”... + </p> + <p> + Then, addressing himself to the major, he asked: + </p> + <p> + “Is the pistol loaded?” + </p> + <p> + The major, in the confusion, could not quite remember. + </p> + <p> + “There, that will do, Vulich!” exclaimed somebody. “Of course it must be + loaded, if it was one of those hanging on the wall there over our heads. + What a man you are for joking!” + </p> + <p> + “A silly joke, too!” struck in another. + </p> + <p> + “I wager fifty rubles to five that the pistol is not loaded!” cried a + third. + </p> + <p> + A new bet was made. + </p> + <p> + I was beginning to get tired of it all. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” I said, “either shoot yourself, or hang up the pistol in its + place and let us go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course!” many exclaimed. “Let us go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I beg of you not to move,” said Vulich, putting the muzzle of + the pistol to his forehead. + </p> + <p> + We were all petrified. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pechorin,” he added, “take a card and throw it up in the air.” + </p> + <p> + I took, as I remember now, an ace of hearts off the table and threw it + into the air. All held their breath. With eyes full of terror and a + certain vague curiosity they glanced rapidly from the pistol to the + fateful ace, which slowly descended, quivering in the air. At the moment + it touched the table Vulich pulled the trigger... a flash in the pan! + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” many exclaimed. “It wasn’t loaded!” + </p> + <p> + “Let us see, though,” said Vulich. + </p> + <p> + He cocked the pistol again, and took aim at a forage-cap which was hanging + above the window. A shot rang out. Smoke filled the room; when it cleared + away, the forage-cap was taken down. It had been shot right through the + centre, and the bullet was deeply embedded in the wall. + </p> + <p> + For two or three minutes no one was able to utter a word. Very quietly + Vulich poured my ducats from the major’s purse into his own. + </p> + <p> + Discussions arose as to why the pistol had not gone off the first time. + Some maintained that probably the pan had been obstructed; others + whispered that the powder had been damp the first time, and that, + afterwards, Vulich had sprinkled some fresh powder on it; but I maintained + that the last supposition was wrong, because I had not once taken my eyes + off the pistol. + </p> + <p> + “You are lucky at play!” I said to Vulich... + </p> + <p> + “For the first time in my life!” he answered, with a complacent smile. “It + is better than ‘bank’ and ‘shtoss.’” <a href="#linknote-23" + name="linknoteref-23" id="linknoteref-23"><small>23</small></a> + </p> + <p> + “But, on the other hand, slightly more dangerous!” + </p> + <p> + “Well? Have you begun to believe in predestination?” + </p> + <p> + “I do believe in it; only I cannot understand now why it appeared to me + that you must inevitably die to-day!” + </p> + <p> + And this same man, who, such a short time before, had with the greatest + calmness aimed a pistol at his own forehead, now suddenly fired up and + became embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “That will do, though!” he said, rising to his feet. “Our wager is + finished, and now your observations, it seems to me, are out of place.” + </p> + <p> + He took up his cap and departed. The whole affair struck me as being + strange—and not without reason. Shortly after that, all the officers + broke up and went home, discussing Vulich’s freaks from different points + of view, and, doubtless, with one voice calling me an egoist for having + taken up a wager against a man who wanted to shoot himself, as if he could + not have found a convenient opportunity without my intervention. + </p> + <p> + I returned home by the deserted byways of the village. The moon, full and + red like the glow of a conflagration, was beginning to make its appearance + from behind the jagged horizon of the house-tops; the stars were shining + tranquilly in the deep, blue vault of the sky; and I was struck by the + absurdity of the idea when I recalled to mind that once upon a time there + were some exceedingly wise people who thought that the stars of heaven + participated in our insignificant squabbles for a slice of ground, or some + other imaginary rights. And what then? These lamps, lighted, so they + fancied, only to illuminate their battles and triumphs, are burning with + all their former brilliance, whilst the wiseacres themselves, together + with their hopes and passions, have long been extinguished, like a little + fire kindled at the edge of a forest by a careless wayfarer! But, on the + other hand, what strength of will was lent them by the conviction that the + entire heavens, with their innumerable habitants, were looking at them + with a sympathy, unalterable, though mute!... And we, their miserable + descendants, roaming over the earth, without faith, without pride, without + enjoyment, and without terror—except that involuntary awe which + makes the heart shrink at the thought of the inevitable end—we are + no longer capable of great sacrifices, either for the good of mankind or + even for our own happiness, because we know the impossibility of such + happiness; and, just as our ancestors used to fling themselves from one + delusion to another, we pass indifferently from doubt to doubt, without + possessing, as they did, either hope or even that vague though, at the + same time, keen enjoyment which the soul encounters at every struggle with + mankind or with destiny. + </p> + <p> + These and many other similar thoughts passed through my mind, but I did + not follow them up, because I do not like to dwell upon abstract ideas—for + what do they lead to? In my early youth I was a dreamer; I loved to hug to + my bosom the images—now gloomy, now rainbowhued—which my + restless and eager imagination drew for me. And what is there left to me + of all these? Only such weariness as might be felt after a battle by night + with a phantom—only a confused memory full of regrets. In that vain + contest I have exhausted the warmth of soul and firmness of will + indispensable to an active life. I have entered upon that life after + having already lived through it in thought, and it has become wearisome + and nauseous to me, as the reading of a bad imitation of a book is to one + who has long been familiar with the original. + </p> + <p> + The events of that evening produced a somewhat deep impression upon me and + excited my nerves. I do not know for certain whether I now believe in + predestination or not, but on that evening I believed in it firmly. The + proof was startling, and I, notwithstanding that I had laughed at our + forefathers and their obliging astrology, fell involuntarily into their + way of thinking. However, I stopped myself in time from following that + dangerous road, and, as I have made it a rule not to reject anything + decisively and not to trust anything blindly, I cast metaphysics aside and + began to look at what was beneath my feet. The precaution was well-timed. + I only just escaped stumbling over something thick and soft, but, to all + appearance, inanimate. I bent down to see what it was, and, by the light + of the moon, which now shone right upon the road, I perceived that it was + a pig which had been cut in two with a sabre... I had hardly time to + examine it before I heard the sound of steps, and two Cossacks came + running out of a byway. One of them came up to me and enquired whether I + had seen a drunken Cossack chasing a pig. I informed him that I had not + met the Cossack and pointed to the unhappy victim of his rabid bravery. + </p> + <p> + “The scoundrel!” said the second Cossack. “No sooner does he drink his + fill of chikhir <a href="#linknote-24" name="linknoteref-24" + id="linknoteref-24"><small>24</small></a> than off he goes and cuts up + anything that comes in his way. Let us be after him, Eremeich, we must tie + him up or else”... + </p> + <p> + They took themselves off, and I continued my way with greater caution, and + at length arrived at my lodgings without mishap. + </p> + <p> + I was living with a certain old Cossack underofficer whom I loved, not + only on account of his kindly disposition, but also, and more especially, + on account of his pretty daughter, Nastya. + </p> + <p> + Wrapped up in a sheepskin coat she was waiting for me, as usual, by the + wicket gate. The moon illumined her charming little lips, now turned blue + by the cold of the night. Recognizing me she smiled; but I was in no mood + to linger with her. + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Nastya!” I said, and passed on. + </p> + <p> + She was about to make some answer, but only sighed. + </p> + <p> + I fastened the door of my room after me, lighted a candle, and threw + myself on the bed; but, on that occasion, slumber caused its presence to + be awaited longer than usual. By the time I fell asleep the east was + beginning to grow pale, but I was evidently predestined not to have my + sleep out. At four o’clock in the morning two fists knocked at my window. + I sprang up. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Get up—dress yourself!” + </p> + <p> + I dressed hurriedly and went out. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what has happened?” said three officers who had come for me, + speaking all in one voice. + </p> + <p> + They were deadly pale. + </p> + <p> + “No, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Vulich has been murdered!” + </p> + <p> + I was petrified. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, murdered!” they continued. “Let us lose no time and go!” + </p> + <p> + “But where to?” + </p> + <p> + “You will learn as we go.” + </p> + <p> + We set off. They told me all that had happened, supplementing their story + with a variety of observations on the subject of the strange + predestination which had saved Vulich from imminent death half an hour + before he actually met his end. + </p> + <p> + Vulich had been walking alone along a dark street, and the drunken Cossack + who had cut up the pig had sprung out upon him, and perhaps would have + passed him by without noticing him, had not Vulich stopped suddenly and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Whom are you looking for, my man?” + </p> + <p> + “You!” answered the Cossack, striking him with his sabre; and he cleft him + from the shoulder almost to the heart... + </p> + <p> + The two Cossacks who had met me and followed the murderer had arrived on + the scene and raised the wounded man from the ground. But he was already + at his last gasp and said these three words only—“he was right!” + </p> + <p> + I alone understood the dark significance of those words: they referred to + me. I had involuntarily foretold his fate to poor Vulich. My instinct had + not deceived me; I had indeed read on his changed countenance the signs of + approaching death. + </p> + <p> + The murderer had locked himself up in an empty hut at the end of the + village; and thither we went. A number of women, all of them weeping, were + running in the same direction; at times a belated Cossack, hastily + buckling on his dagger, sprang out into the street and overtook us at a + run. The tumult was dreadful. + </p> + <p> + At length we arrived on the scene and found a crowd standing around the + hut, the door and shutters of which were locked on the inside. Groups of + officers and Cossacks were engaged in heated discussions; the women were + shrieking, wailing and talking all in one breath. One of the old women + struck my attention by her meaning looks and the frantic despair expressed + upon her face. She was sitting on a thick plank, leaning her elbows on her + knees and supporting her head with her hands. It was the mother of the + murderer. At times her lips moved... Was it a prayer they were whispering, + or a curse? + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile it was necessary to decide upon some course of action and to + seize the criminal. Nobody, however, made bold to be the first to rush + forward. + </p> + <p> + I went up to the window and looked in through a chink in the shutter. The + criminal, pale of face, was lying on the floor, holding a pistol in his + right hand. The blood-stained sabre was beside him. His expressive eyes + were rolling in terror; at times he shuddered and clutched at his head, as + if indistinctly recalling the events of yesterday. I could not read any + sign of great determination in that uneasy glance of his, and I told the + major that it would be better at once to give orders to the Cossacks to + burst open the door and rush in, than to wait until the murderer had quite + recovered his senses. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the old captain of the Cossacks went up to the door and + called the murderer by name. The latter answered back. + </p> + <p> + “You have committed a sin, brother Ephimych!” said the captain, “so all + you can do now is to submit.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not submit!” answered the Cossack. + </p> + <p> + “Have you no fear of God! You see, you are not one of those cursed + Chechenes, but an honest Christian! Come, if you have done it in an + unguarded moment there is no help for it! You cannot escape your fate!” + </p> + <p> + “I will not submit!” exclaimed the Cossack menacingly, and we could hear + the snap of the cocked trigger. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, my good woman!” said the Cossack captain to the old woman. “Say a + word to your son—perhaps he will lend an ear to you... You see, to + go on like this is only to make God angry. And look, the gentlemen here + have already been waiting two hours.” + </p> + <p> + The old woman gazed fixedly at him and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Vasili Petrovich,” said the captain, going up to the major; “he will not + surrender. I know him! If it comes to smashing in the door he will strike + down several of our men. Would it not be better if you ordered him to be + shot? There is a wide chink in the shutter.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment a strange idea flashed through my head—like Vulich I + proposed to put fate to the test. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” I said to the major, “I will take him alive.” + </p> + <p> + Bidding the captain enter into a conversation with the murderer and + setting three Cossacks at the door ready to force it open and rush to my + aid at a given signal, I walked round the hut and approached the fatal + window. My heart was beating violently. + </p> + <p> + “Aha, you cursed wretch!” cried the captain. “Are you laughing at us, eh? + Or do you think that we won’t be able to get the better of you?” + </p> + <p> + He began to knock at the door with all his might. Putting my eye to the + chink, I followed the movements of the Cossack, who was not expecting an + attack from that direction. I pulled the shutter away suddenly and threw + myself in at the window, head foremost. A shot rang out right over my ear, + and the bullet tore off one of my epaulettes. But the smoke which filled + the room prevented my adversary from finding the sabre which was lying + beside him. I seized him by the arms; the Cossacks burst in; and three + minutes had not elapsed before they had the criminal bound and led off + under escort. + </p> + <p> + The people dispersed, the officers congratulated me—and indeed there + was cause for congratulation. + </p> + <p> + After all that, it would hardly seem possible to avoid becoming a + fatalist? But who knows for certain whether he is convinced of anything or + not? And how often is a deception of the senses or an error of the reason + accepted as a conviction!... I prefer to doubt everything. Such a + disposition is no bar to decision of character; on the contrary, so far as + I am concerned, I always advance more boldly when I do not know what is + awaiting me. You see, nothing can happen worse than death—and from + death there is no escape. + </p> + <p> + On my return to the fortress I related to Maksim Maksimych all that I had + seen and experienced; and I sought to learn his opinion on the subject of + predestination. + </p> + <p> + At first he did not understand the word. I explained it to him as well as + I could, and then he said, with a significant shake of the head: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, of course! It was a very ingenious trick! However, these + Asiatic pistols often miss fire if they are badly oiled or if you don’t + press hard enough on the trigger. I confess I don’t like the Circassian + carbines either. Somehow or other they don’t suit the like of us: the butt + end is so small, and any minute you may get your nose burnt! On the other + hand, their sabres, now—well, all I need say is, my best respects to + them!” + </p> + <p> + Afterwards he said, on reflecting a little: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is a pity about the poor fellow! The devil must have put it into + his head to start a conversation with a drunken man at night! However, it + is evident that fate had written it so at his birth!” + </p> + <p> + I could not get anything more out of Maksim Maksimych; generally speaking, + he had no liking for metaphysical disputations. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK V THE THIRD EXTRACT FROM PECHORIN’S DIARY + </h2> + <p> + PRINCESS MARY <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. 11th May. + </h2> + <p> + YESTERDAY I arrived at Pyatigorsk. I have engaged lodgings at the extreme + end of the town, the highest part, at the foot of Mount Mashuk: during a + storm the clouds will descend on to the roof of my dwelling. + </p> + <p> + This morning at five o’clock, when I opened my window, the room was filled + with the fragrance of the flowers growing in the modest little + front-garden. Branches of bloom-laden bird-cherry trees peep in at my + window, and now and again the breeze bestrews my writing-table with their + white petals. The view which meets my gaze on three sides is wonderful: + westward towers five-peaked Beshtau, blue as “the last cloud of a + dispersed storm,” <a href="#linknote-25" name="linknoteref-25" + id="linknoteref-25"><small>25</small></a> and northward rises Mashuk, like + a shaggy Persian cap, shutting in the whole of that quarter of the + horizon. Eastward the outlook is more cheery: down below are displayed the + varied hues of the brand-new, spotlessly clean, little town, with its + murmuring, health-giving springs and its babbling, many-tongued throng. + Yonder, further away, the mountains tower up in an amphitheatre, ever + bluer and mistier; and, at the edge of the horizon, stretches the silver + chain of snow-clad summits, beginning with Kazbek and ending with + two-peaked Elbruz... Blithe is life in such a land! A feeling akin to + rapture is diffused through all my veins. The air is pure and fresh, like + the kiss of a child; the sun is bright, the sky is blue—what more + could one possibly wish for? What need, in such a place as this, of + passions, desires, regrets? + </p> + <p> + However, it is time to be stirring. I will go to the Elizaveta spring—I + am told that the whole society of the watering-place assembles there in + the morning. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Descending into the middle of the town, I walked along the boulevard, on + which I met a few melancholy groups slowly ascending the mountain. These, + for the most part, were the families of landed-gentry from the steppes—as + could be guessed at once from the threadbare, old-fashioned frock-coats of + the husbands and the exquisite attire of the wives and daughters. + Evidently they already had all the young men of the watering-place at + their fingers’ ends, because they looked at me with a tender curiosity. + The Petersburg cut of my coat misled them; but they soon recognised the + military epaulettes, and turned away with indignation. + </p> + <p> + The wives of the local authorities—the hostesses, so to speak, of + the waters—were more graciously inclined. They carry lorgnettes, and + they pay less attention to a uniform—they have grown accustomed in + the Caucasus to meeting a fervid heart beneath a numbered button and a + cultured intellect beneath a white forage-cap. These ladies are very + charming, and long continue to be charming. Each year their adorers are + exchanged for new ones, and in that very fact, it may be, lies the secret + of their unwearying amiability. + </p> + <p> + Ascending by the narrow path to the Elizaveta spring, I overtook a crowd + of officials and military men, who, as I subsequently learned, compose a + class apart amongst those who place their hopes in the medicinal waters. + They drink—but not water—take but few walks, indulge in only + mild flirtations, gamble, and complain of boredom. + </p> + <p> + They are dandies. In letting their wicker-sheathed tumblers down into the + well of sulphurous water they assume academical poses. The officials wear + bright blue cravats; the military men have ruffs sticking out above their + collars. They affect a profound contempt for provincial ladies, and sigh + for the aristocratic drawing-rooms of the capitals—to which they are + not admitted. + </p> + <p> + Here is the well at last!... Upon the small square adjoining it a little + house with a red roof over the bath is erected, and somewhat further on + there is a gallery in which the people walk when it rains. Some wounded + officers were sitting—pale and melancholy—on a bench, with + their crutches drawn up. A few ladies, their tumbler of water finished, + were walking with rapid steps to and fro about the square. There were two + or three pretty faces amongst them. Beneath the avenues of the vines with + which the slope of Mashuk is covered, occasional glimpses could be caught + of the gay-coloured hat of a lover of solitude for two—for beside + that hat I always noticed either a military forage-cap or the ugly round + hat of a civilian. Upon the steep cliff, where the pavilion called “The + Aeolian Harp” is erected, figured the lovers of scenery, directing their + telescopes upon Elbruz. Amongst them were a couple of tutors, with their + pupils who had come to be cured of scrofula. + </p> + <p> + Out of breath, I came to a standstill at the edge of the mountain, and, + leaning against the corner of a little house, I began to examine the + picturesque surroundings, when suddenly I heard behind me a familiar + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Pechorin! Have you been here long?” + </p> + <p> + I turned round. Grushnitski! We embraced. I had made his acquaintance in + the active service detachment. He had been wounded in the foot by a bullet + and had come to the waters a week or so before me. + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski is a cadet; he has only been a year in the service. From a + kind of foppery peculiar to himself, he wears the thick cloak of a common + soldier. He has also the soldier’s cross of St. George. He is well built, + swarthy and black-haired. To look at him, you might say he was a man of + twenty-five, although he is scarcely twenty-one. He tosses his head when + he speaks, and keeps continually twirling his moustache with his left + hand, his right hand being occupied with the crutch on which he leans. He + speaks rapidly and affectedly; he is one of those people who have a + high-sounding phrase ready for every occasion in life, who remain + untouched by simple beauty, and who drape themselves majestically in + extraordinary sentiments, exalted passions and exceptional sufferings. To + produce an effect is their delight; they have an almost insensate fondness + for romantic provincial ladies. When old age approaches they become either + peaceful landed-gentry or drunkards—sometimes both. Frequently they + have many good qualities, but they have not a grain of poetry in their + composition. Grushnitski’s passion was declamation. He would deluge you + with words so soon as the conversation went beyond the sphere of ordinary + ideas. I have never been able to dispute with him. He neither answers your + questions nor listens to you. So soon as you stop, he begins a lengthy + tirade, which has the appearance of being in some sort connected with what + you have been saying, but which is, in fact, only a continuation of his + own harangue. + </p> + <p> + He is witty enough; his epigrams are frequently amusing, but never + malicious, nor to the point. He slays nobody with a single word; he has no + knowledge of men and of their foibles, because all his life he has been + interested in nobody but himself. His aim is to make himself the hero of a + novel. He has so often endeavoured to convince others that he is a being + created not for this world and doomed to certain mysterious sufferings, + that he has almost convinced himself that such he is in reality. Hence the + pride with which he wears his thick soldier’s cloak. I have seen through + him, and he dislikes me for that reason, although to outward appearance we + are on the friendliest of terms. Grushnitski is looked upon as a man of + distinguished courage. I have seen him in action. He waves his sabre, + shouts, and hurls himself forward with his eyes shut. That is not what I + should call Russian courage!... + </p> + <p> + I reciprocate Grushnitski’s dislike. I feel that some time or other we + shall come into collision upon a narrow road, and that one of us will fare + badly. + </p> + <p> + His arrival in the Caucasus is also the result of his romantic fanaticism. + I am convinced that on the eve of his departure from his paternal village + he said with an air of gloom to some pretty neighbour that he was going + away, not so much for the simple purpose of serving in the army as of + seeking death, because... and hereupon, I am sure, he covered his eyes + with his hand and continued thus, “No, you—or thou—must not + know! Your pure soul would shudder! And what would be the good? What am I + to you? Could you understand me?”... and so on. + </p> + <p> + He has himself told me that the motive which induced him to enter the K——regiment + must remain an everlasting secret between him and Heaven. + </p> + <p> + However, in moments when he casts aside the tragic mantle, Grushnitski is + charming and entertaining enough. I am always interested to see him with + women—it is then that he puts forth his finest efforts, I think! + </p> + <p> + We met like a couple of old friends. I began to question him about the + personages of note and as to the sort of life which was led at the waters. + </p> + <p> + “It is a rather prosaic life,” he said, with a sigh. “Those who drink the + waters in the morning are inert—like all invalids, and those who + drink the wines in the evening are unendurable—like all healthy + people! There are ladies who entertain, but there is no great amusement to + be obtained from them. They play whist, they dress badly and speak French + dreadfully! The only Moscow people here this year are Princess Ligovski + and her daughter—but I am not acquainted with them. My soldier’s + cloak is like a seal of renunciation. The sympathy which it arouses is as + painful as charity.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment two ladies walked past us in the direction of the well; one + elderly, the other youthful and slender. I could not obtain a good view of + their faces on account of their hats, but they were dressed in accordance + with the strict rules of the best taste—nothing superfluous. The + second lady was wearing a high-necked dress of pearl-grey, and a light + silk kerchief was wound round her supple neck. Puce-coloured boots clasped + her slim little ankle so charmingly, that even those uninitiated into the + mysteries of beauty would infallibly have sighed, if only from wonder. + There was something maidenly in her easy, but aristocratic gait, something + eluding definition yet intelligible to the glance. As she walked past us + an indefinable perfume, like that which sometimes breathes from the note + of a charming woman, was wafted from her. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” said Grushnitski, “there is Princess Ligovski with her daughter + Mary, as she calls her after the English manner. They have been here only + three days.” + </p> + <p> + “You already know her name, though?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I heard it by chance,” he answered, with a blush. “I confess I do + not desire to make their acquaintance. These haughty aristocrats look upon + us army men just as they would upon savages. What care they if there is an + intellect beneath a numbered forage-cap, and a heart beneath a thick + cloak?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor cloak!” I said, with a laugh. “But who is the gentleman who is just + going up to them and handing them a tumbler so officiously?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is Raevich, the Moscow dandy. He is a gambler; you can see as + much at once from that immense gold chain coiling across his skyblue + waistcoat. And what a thick cane he has! Just like Robinson Crusoe’s—and + so is his beard too, and his hair is done like a peasant’s.” + </p> + <p> + “You are embittered against the whole human race?” + </p> + <p> + “And I have cause to be”... + </p> + <p> + “Oh, really?” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the ladies left the well and came up to where we were. + Grushnitski succeeded in assuming a dramatic pose with the aid of his + crutch, and in a loud tone of voice answered me in French: + </p> + <p> + “Mon cher, je hais les hommes pour ne pas les mepriser, car autrement la + vie serait une farce trop degoutante.” + </p> + <p> + The pretty Princess Mary turned round and favoured the orator with a long + and curious glance. Her expression was quite indefinite, but it was not + contemptuous, a fact on which I inwardly congratulated Grushnitski from my + heart. + </p> + <p> + “She is an extremely pretty girl,” I said. “She has such velvet eyes—yes, + velvet is the word. I should advise you to appropriate the expression when + speaking of her eyes. The lower and upper lashes are so long that the + sunbeams are not reflected in her pupils. I love those eyes without a + glitter, they are so soft that they appear to caress you. However, her + eyes seem to be her only good feature... Tell me, are her teeth white? + That is most important! It is a pity that she did not smile at that + high-sounding phrase of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “You are speaking of a pretty woman just as you might of an English + horse,” said Grushnitski indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Mon cher,” I answered, trying to mimic his tone, “je meprise les femmes, + pour ne pas les aimer, car autrement la vie serait un melodrame trop + ridicule.” + </p> + <p> + I turned and left him. For half an hour or so I walked about the avenues + of the vines, the limestone cliffs and the bushes hanging between them. + The day grew hot, and I hurried homewards. Passing the sulphur spring, I + stopped at the covered gallery in order to regain my breath under its + shade, and by so doing I was afforded the opportunity of witnessing a + rather interesting scene. This is the position in which the dramatis + personae were disposed: Princess Ligovski and the Moscow dandy were + sitting on a bench in the covered gallery—apparently engaged in + serious conversation. Princess Mary, who had doubtless by this time + finished her last tumbler, was walking pensively to and fro by the well. + Grushnitski was standing by the well itself; there was nobody else on the + square. + </p> + <p> + I went up closer and concealed myself behind a corner of the gallery. At + that moment Grushnitski let his tumbler fall on the sand and made + strenuous efforts to stoop in order to pick it up; but his injured foot + prevented him. Poor fellow! How he tried all kinds of artifices, as he + leaned on his crutch, and all in vain! His expressive countenance was, in + fact, a picture of suffering. + </p> + <p> + Princess Mary saw the whole scene better than I. + </p> + <p> + Lighter than a bird she sprang towards him, stooped, picked up the + tumbler, and handed it to him with a gesture full of ineffable charm. Then + she blushed furiously, glanced round at the gallery, and, having assured + herself that her mother apparently had not seen anything, immediately + regained her composure. By the time Grushnitski had opened his mouth to + thank her she was a long way off. A moment after, she came out of the + gallery with her mother and the dandy, but, in passing by Grushnitski, she + assumed a most decorous and serious air. She did not even turn round, she + did not even observe the passionate gaze which he kept fixed upon her for + a long time until she had descended the mountain and was hidden behind the + lime trees of the boulevard... Presently I caught glimpses of her hat as + she walked along the street. She hurried through the gate of one of the + best houses in Pyatigorsk; her mother walked behind her and bowed adieu to + Raevich at the gate. + </p> + <p> + It was only then that the poor, passionate cadet noticed my presence. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see?” he said, pressing my hand vigorously. “She is an angel, + simply an angel!” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” I inquired, with an air of the purest simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “Did you not see, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I saw her picking up your tumbler. If there had been an attendant + there he would have done the same thing—and quicker too, in the hope + of receiving a tip. It is quite easy, however, to understand that she + pitied you; you made such a terrible grimace when you walked on the + wounded foot.” + </p> + <p> + “And can it be that seeing her, as you did, at that moment when her soul + was shining in her eyes, you were not in the least affected?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + I was lying, but I wanted to exasperate him. I have an innate passion for + contradiction—my whole life has been nothing but a series of + melancholy and vain contradictions of heart or reason. The presence of an + enthusiast chills me with a twelfth-night cold, and I believe that + constant association with a person of a flaccid and phlegmatic temperament + would have turned me into an impassioned visionary. I confess, too, that + an unpleasant but familiar sensation was coursing lightly through my heart + at that moment. It was—envy. I say “envy” boldly, because I am + accustomed to acknowledge everything to myself. It would be hard to find a + young man who, if his idle fancy had been attracted by a pretty woman and + he had suddenly found her openly singling out before his eyes another man + equally unknown to her—it would be hard, I say, to find such a young + man (living, of course, in the great world and accustomed to indulge his + self-love) who would not have been unpleasantly taken aback in such a + case. + </p> + <p> + In silence Grushnitski and I descended the mountain and walked along the + boulevard, past the windows of the house where our beauty had hidden + herself. She was sitting by the window. Grushnitski, plucking me by the + arm, cast upon her one of those gloomily tender glances which have so + little effect upon women. I directed my lorgnette at her, and observed + that she smiled at his glance and that my insolent lorgnette made her + downright angry. And how, indeed, should a Caucasian military man presume + to direct his eyeglass at a princess from Moscow?... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. 13th May. + </h2> + <p> + THIS morning the doctor came to see me. His name is Werner, but he is a + Russian. What is there surprising in that? I have known a man named + Ivanov, who was a German. + </p> + <p> + Werner is a remarkable man, and that for many reasons. Like almost all + medical men he is a sceptic and a materialist, but, at the same time, he + is a genuine poet—a poet always in deeds and often in words, + although he has never written two verses in his life. He has mastered all + the living chords of the human heart, just as one learns the veins of a + corpse, but he has never known how to avail himself of his knowledge. In + like manner, it sometimes happens that an excellent anatomist does not + know how to cure a fever. Werner usually made fun of his patients in + private; but once I saw him weeping over a dying soldier... He was poor, + and dreamed of millions, but he would not take a single step out of his + way for the sake of money. He once told me that he would rather do a + favour to an enemy than to a friend, because, in the latter case, it would + mean selling his beneficence, whilst hatred only increases proportionately + to the magnanimity of the adversary. He had a malicious tongue; and more + than one good, simple soul has acquired the reputation of a vulgar fool + through being labelled with one of his epigrams. His rivals, envious + medical men of the watering-place, spread the report that he was in the + habit of drawing caricatures of his patients. The patients were incensed, + and almost all of them discarded him. His friends, that is to say all the + genuinely well-bred people who were serving in the Caucasus, vainly + endeavoured to restore his fallen credit. + </p> + <p> + His outward appearance was of the type which, at the first glance, creates + an unpleasant impression, but which you get to like in course of time, + when the eye learns to read in the irregular features the stamp of a tried + and lofty soul. Instances have been known of women falling madly in love + with men of that sort, and having no desire to exchange their ugliness for + the beauty of the freshest and rosiest of Endymions. We must give women + their due: they possess an instinct for spiritual beauty, for which + reason, possibly, men such as Werner love women so passionately. + </p> + <p> + Werner was small and lean and as weak as a baby. One of his legs was + shorter than the other, as was the case with Byron. In comparison with his + body, his head seemed enormous. His hair was cropped close, and the + unevennesses of his cranium, thus laid bare, would have struck a + phrenologist by reason of the strange intertexture of contradictory + propensities. His little, ever restless, black eyes seemed as if they were + endeavouring to fathom your thoughts. Taste and neatness were to be + observed in his dress. His small, lean, sinewy hands flaunted themselves + in bright-yellow gloves. His frock-coat, cravat and waistcoat were + invariably of black. The young men dubbed him Mephistopheles; he pretended + to be angry at the nickname, but in reality it flattered his vanity. + Werner and I soon understood each other and became friends, because I, for + my part, am illadapted for friendship. Of two friends, one is always the + slave of the other, although frequently neither acknowledges the fact to + himself. Now, the slave I could not be; and to be the master would be a + wearisome trouble, because, at the same time, deception would be required. + Besides, I have servants and money! + </p> + <p> + Our friendship originated in the following circumstances. I met Werner at + S——, in the midst of a numerous and noisy circle of young + people. Towards the end of the evening the conversation took a + philosophico-metaphysical turn. We discussed the subject of convictions, + and each of us had some different conviction to declare. + </p> + <p> + “So far as I am concerned,” said the doctor, “I am convinced of one thing + only”... + </p> + <p> + “And that is—?” I asked, desirous of learning the opinion of a man + who had been silent till then. + </p> + <p> + “Of the fact,” he answered, “that sooner or later, one fine morning, I + shall die.” + </p> + <p> + “I am better off than you,” I said. “In addition to that, I have a further + conviction, namely, that, one very nasty evening, I had the misfortune to + be born.” + </p> + <p> + All the others considered that we were talking nonsense, but indeed not + one of them said anything more sensible. From that moment we singled each + other out amongst the crowd. We used frequently to meet and discuss + abstract subjects in a very serious manner, until each observed that the + other was throwing dust in his eyes. Then, looking significantly at each + other—as, according to Cicero, the Roman augurs used to do—we + would burst out laughing heartily and, having had our laugh, we would + separate, well content with our evening. + </p> + <p> + I was lying on a couch, my eyes fixed upon the ceiling and my hands + clasped behind my head, when Werner entered my room. He sat down in an + easy chair, placed his cane in a corner, yawned, and announced that it was + getting hot out of doors. I replied that the flies were bothering me—and + we both fell silent. + </p> + <p> + “Observe, my dear doctor,” I said, “that, but for fools, the world would + be a very dull place. Look! Here are you and I, both sensible men! We know + beforehand that it is possible to dispute ad infinitum about everything—and + so we do not dispute. Each of us knows almost all the other’s secret + thoughts: to us a single word is a whole history; we see the grain of + every one of our feelings through a threefold husk. What is sad, we laugh + at; what is laughable, we grieve at; but, to tell the truth, we are fairly + indifferent, generally speaking, to everything except ourselves. + Consequently, there can be no interchange of feelings and thoughts between + us; each of us knows all he cares to know about the other, and that + knowledge is all he wants. One expedient remains—to tell the news. + So tell me some news.” + </p> + <p> + Fatigued by this lengthy speech, I closed my eyes and yawned. The doctor + answered after thinking awhile: + </p> + <p> + “There is an idea, all the same, in that nonsense of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Two,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me one, and I will tell you the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, begin!” I said, continuing to examine the ceiling and smiling + inwardly. + </p> + <p> + “You are anxious for information about some of the new-comers here, and I + can guess who it is, because they, for their part, have already been + inquiring about you.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor! Decidedly it is impossible for us to hold a conversation! We read + into each other’s soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Now the other idea?”... + </p> + <p> + “Here it is: I wanted to make you relate something, for the following + reasons: firstly, listening is less fatiguing than talking; secondly, the + listener cannot commit himself; thirdly, he can learn another’s secret; + fourthly, sensible people, such as you, prefer listeners to speakers. Now + to business; what did Princess Ligovski tell you about me?” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite sure that it was Princess Ligovski... and not Princess + Mary?”... + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Princess Mary inquired about Grushnitski.” + </p> + <p> + “You are gifted with a fine imagination! Princess Mary said that she was + convinced that the young man in the soldier’s cloak had been reduced to + the ranks on account of a duel”... + </p> + <p> + “I hope you left her cherishing that pleasant delusion”... + </p> + <p> + “Of course”... + </p> + <p> + “A plot!” I exclaimed in rapture. “We will make it our business to see to + the denouement of this little comedy. It is obvious that fate is taking + care that I shall not be bored!” + </p> + <p> + “I have a presentiment,” said the doctor, “that poor Grushnitski will be + your victim.” + </p> + <p> + “Proceed, doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Princess Ligovski said that your face was familiar to her. I observed + that she had probably met you in Petersburg—somewhere in society... + I told her your name. She knew it well. It appears that your history + created a great stir there... She began to tell us of your adventures, + most likely supplementing the gossip of society with observations of her + own... Her daughter listened with curiosity. In her imagination you have + become the hero of a novel in a new style... I did not contradict Princess + Ligovski, although I knew that she was talking nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “Worthy friend!” I said, extending my hand to him. + </p> + <p> + The doctor pressed it feelingly and continued: + </p> + <p> + “If you like I will present you”... + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” I said, clapping my hands. “Are heroes ever presented? In + no other way do they make the acquaintance of their beloved than by saving + her from certain death!”... + </p> + <p> + “And you really wish to court Princess Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, far from it!... Doctor, I triumph at last! You do not + understand me!... It vexes me, however,” I continued after a moment’s + silence. “I never reveal my secrets myself, but I am exceedingly fond of + their being guessed, because in that way I can always disavow them upon + occasion. However, you must describe both mother and daughter to me. What + sort of people are they?” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, Princess Ligovski is a woman of forty-five,” answered + Werner. “She has a splendid digestion, but her blood is out of order—there + are red spots on her cheeks. She has spent the latter half of her life in + Moscow, and has grown stout from leading an inactive life there. She loves + spicy stories, and sometimes says improper things herself when her + daughter is out of the room. She has declared to me that her daughter is + as innocent as a dove. What does that matter to me?... I was going to + answer that she might be at her ease, because I would never tell anyone. + Princess Ligovski is taking the cure for her rheumatism, and the daughter, + for goodness knows what. I have ordered each of them to drink two tumblers + a day of sulphurous water, and to bathe twice a week in the diluted bath. + Princess Ligovski is apparently unaccustomed to giving orders. She + cherishes respect for the intelligence and attainments of her daughter, + who has read Byron in English and knows algebra: in Moscow, evidently, the + ladies have entered upon the paths of erudition—and a good thing, + too! The men here are generally so unamiable, that, for a clever woman, it + must be intolerable to flirt with them. Princess Ligovski is very fond of + young people; Princess Mary looks on them with a certain contempt—a + Moscow habit! In Moscow they cherish only wits of not less than forty.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been in Moscow, doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I had a practice there.” + </p> + <p> + “Continue.” + </p> + <p> + “But I think I have told everything... No, there is something else: + Princess Mary, it seems, loves to discuss emotions, passions, etcetera. + She was in Petersburg for one winter, and disliked it—especially the + society: no doubt she was coldly received.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not seen anyone with them today?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, there was an aide-de-camp, a stiff guardsman, and a lady—one + of the latest arrivals, a relation of Princess Ligovski on the husband’s + side—very pretty, but apparently very ill... Have you not met her at + the well? She is of medium height, fair, with regular features; she has + the complexion of a consumptive, and there is a little black mole on her + right cheek. I was struck by the expressiveness of her face.” + </p> + <p> + “A mole!” I muttered through my teeth. “Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor looked at me, and, laying his hand on my heart, said + triumphantly: + </p> + <p> + “You know her!” + </p> + <p> + My heart was, in fact, beating more violently than usual. + </p> + <p> + “It is your turn, now, to triumph,” I said. “But I rely on you: you will + not betray me. I have not seen her yet, but I am convinced that I + recognise from your portrait a woman whom I loved in the old days... Do + not speak a word to her about me; if she asks any questions, give a bad + report of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so!” said Werner, shrugging his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + When he had departed, my heart was compressed with terrible grief. Has + destiny brought us together again in the Caucasus, or has she come hither + on purpose, knowing that she would meet me?... And how shall we meet?... + And then, is it she?... My presentiments have never deceived me. There is + not a man in the world over whom the past has acquired such a power as + over me. Every recollection of bygone grief or joy strikes my soul with + morbid effect, and draws forth ever the same sounds... I am stupidly + constituted: I forget nothing—nothing! + </p> + <p> + After dinner, about six o’clock, I went on to the boulevard. It was + crowded. The two princesses were sitting on a bench, surrounded by young + men, who were vying with each other in paying them attention. I took up my + position on another bench at a little distance off, stopped two Dragoon + officers whom I knew, and proceeded to tell them something. Evidently it + was amusing, because they began to laugh loudly like a couple of madmen. + Some of those who were surrounding Princess Mary were attracted to my side + by curiosity, and gradually all of them left her and joined my circle. I + did not stop talking; my anecdotes were clever to the point of absurdity, + my jests at the expense of the queer people passing by, malicious to the + point of frenzy. I continued to entertain the public till sunset. Princess + Mary passed by me a few times, arm-in-arm with her mother, and accompanied + by a certain lame old man. A few times her glance as it fell upon me + expressed vexation, while endeavouring to express indifference... + </p> + <p> + “What has he been telling you?” she inquired of one of the young men, who + had gone back to her out of politeness. “No doubt a most interesting story—his + own exploits in battle?”... + </p> + <p> + This was said rather loudly, and probably with the intention of stinging + me. + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” I thought to myself. “You are downright angry, my dear Princess. + Wait awhile, there is more to follow.” + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski kept following her like a beast of prey, and would not let her + out of his sight. I wager that to-morrow he will ask somebody to present + him to Princess Ligovski. She will be glad, because she is bored. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. 16th May. + </h2> + <p> + IN the course of two days my affairs have gained ground tremendously. + Princess Mary positively hates me. Already I have had repeated to me two + or three epigrams on the subject of myself—rather caustic, but at + the same time very flattering. She finds it exceedingly strange that I, + who am accustomed to good society, and am so intimate with her Petersburg + cousins and aunts, do not try to make her acquaintance. Every day we meet + at the well and on the boulevard. I exert all my powers to entice away her + adorers, glittering aides-de-camp, pale-faced visitors from Moscow, and + others—and I almost always succeed. I have always hated entertaining + guests: now my house is full every day; they dine, sup, gamble, and alas! + my champagne triumphs over the might of Princess Mary’s magnetic eyes! + </p> + <p> + I met her yesterday in Chelakhov’s shop. She was bargaining for a + marvellous Persian rug, and implored her mother not to be niggardly: the + rug would be such an ornament to her boudoir... I outbid her by forty + rubles, and bought it over her head. I was rewarded with a glance in which + the most delightful fury sparkled. About dinnertime, I ordered my + Circassian horse, covered with that very rug, purposely to be led past her + windows. Werner was with the princesses at the time, and told me that the + effect of the scene was most dramatic. Princess Mary wishes to preach a + crusade against me, and I have even noticed that, already, two of the + aides-de-camp salute me very coldly, when they are in her presence—they + dine with me every day, however. + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski has assumed an air of mystery; he walks with his arms folded + behind his back and does not recognise anyone. His foot has got well all + at once, and there is hardly a sign of a limp. He has found an opportunity + of entering into conversation with Princess Ligovski and of paying + Princess Mary some kind of a compliment. The latter is evidently not very + fastidious, for, ever since, she answers his bow with a most charming + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure you do not wish to make the Ligovskis’ acquaintance?” he + said to me yesterday. + </p> + <p> + “Positive.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious! The pleasantest house at the waters! All the best society + of Pyatigorsk is to be found there”... + </p> + <p> + “My friend, I am terribly tired of even other society than that of + Pyatigorsk. So you visit the Ligovskis?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. I have spoken to Princess Mary once or twice, but that is all. + You know it is rather awkward to go and visit them without being invited, + although that is the custom here... It would be a different matter if I + was wearing epaulettes”... + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! Why, you are much more interesting as it is! You simply do + not know how to avail yourself of your advantageous position... Why, that + soldier’s cloak makes a hero and a martyr of you in the eyes of any lady + of sentiment!” + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski smiled complacently. + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I am convinced,” I continued, “that Princess Mary is in love with you + already.” + </p> + <p> + He blushed up to the ears and looked big. + </p> + <p> + Oh, vanity! Thou art the lever with which Archimedes was to lift the + earthly sphere!... + </p> + <p> + “You are always jesting!” he said, pretending to be angry. “In the first + place, she knows so little of me as yet”... + </p> + <p> + “Women love only those whom they do not know!” + </p> + <p> + “But I have no pretensions whatsoever to pleasing her. I simply wish to + make the acquaintance of an agreeable household; and it would be extremely + ridiculous if I were to cherish the slightest hope... With you, now, for + instance, it is a different matter! You Petersburg conquerors! You have + but to look—and women melt... But do you know, Pechorin, what + Princess Mary said of you?”... + </p> + <p> + “What? She has spoken to you already about me?”... + </p> + <p> + “Do not rejoice too soon, though. The other day, by chance, I entered into + conversation with her at the well; her third word was, ‘Who is that + gentleman with such an unpleasant, heavy glance? He was with you when’... + she blushed, and did not like to mention the day, remembering her own + delightful little exploit. ‘You need not tell me what day it was,’ I + answered; ‘it will ever be present to my memory!’... Pechorin, my friend, + I cannot congratulate you, you are in her black books... And, indeed, it + is a pity, because Mary is a charming girl!”... + </p> + <p> + It must be observed that Grushnitski is one of those men who, in speaking + of a woman with whom they are barely acquainted, call her my Mary, my + Sophie, if she has had the good fortune to please them. + </p> + <p> + I assumed a serious air and answered: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is good-looking... Only be careful, Grushnitski! Russian ladies, + for the most part, cherish only Platonic love, without mingling any + thought of matrimony with it; and Platonic love is exceedingly + embarrassing. Princess Mary seems to be one of those women who want to be + amused. If she is bored in your company for two minutes on end—you + are lost irrevocably. Your silence ought to excite her curiosity, your + conversation ought never to satisfy it completely; you should alarm her + every minute; ten times, in public, she will slight people’s opinion for + you and will call that a sacrifice, and, in order to requite herself for + it, she will torment you. Afterwards she will simply say that she cannot + endure you. If you do not acquire authority over her, even her first kiss + will not give you the right to a second. She will flirt with you to her + heart’s content, and, in two years’ time, she will marry a monster, in + obedience to her mother, and will assure herself that she is unhappy, that + she has loved only one man—that is to say, you—but that Heaven + was not willing to unite her to him because he wore a soldier’s cloak, + although beneath that thick, grey cloak beat a heart, passionate and + noble”... + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski smote the table with his fist and fell to walking to and fro + across the room. + </p> + <p> + I laughed inwardly and even smiled once or twice, but fortunately he did + not notice. It is evident that he is in love, because he has grown even + more confiding than heretofore. Moreover, a ring has made its appearance + on his finger, a silver ring with black enamel of local workmanship. It + struck me as suspicious... I began to examine it, and what do you think I + saw? The name Mary was engraved on the inside in small letters, and in a + line with the name was the date on which she had picked up the famous + tumbler. I kept my discovery a secret. I do not want to force confessions + from him, I want him, of his own accord, to choose me as his confidant—and + then I will enjoy myself!... + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + To-day I rose late. I went to the well. I found nobody there. The day grew + hot. White, shaggy cloudlets were flitting rapidly from the snow-clad + mountains, giving promise of a thunderstorm; the summit of Mount Mashuk + was smoking like a just extinguished torch; grey wisps of cloud were + coiling and creeping like snakes around it, arrested in their rapid sweep + and, as it were, hooked to its prickly brushwood. The atmosphere was + charged with electricity. I plunged into the avenue of the vines leading + to the grotto. + </p> + <p> + I felt low-spirited. I was thinking of the lady with the little mole on + her cheek, of whom the doctor had spoken to me... “Why is she here?” I + thought. “And is it she? And what reason have I for thinking it is? And + why am I so certain of it? Is there not many a woman with a mole on her + cheek?” Reflecting in such wise I came right up to the grotto. I looked in + and I saw that a woman, wearing a straw hat and wrapped in a black shawl, + was sitting on a stone seat in the cold shade of the arch. Her head was + sunk upon her breast, and the hat covered her face. I was just about to + turn back, in order not to disturb her meditations, when she glanced at + me. + </p> + <p> + “Vera!” I exclaimed involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + She started and turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “I knew that you were here,” she said. + </p> + <p> + I sat down beside her and took her hand. A long-forgotten tremor ran + through my veins at the sound of that dear voice. She gazed into my face + with her deep, calm eyes. Mistrust and something in the nature of reproach + were expressed in her glance. + </p> + <p> + “We have not seen each other for a long time,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “A long time, and we have both changed in many ways.” + </p> + <p> + “Consequently you love me no longer?”... + </p> + <p> + “I am married!”... she said. + </p> + <p> + “Again? A few years ago, however, that reason also existed, but, + nevertheless”... + </p> + <p> + She plucked her hand away from mine and her cheeks flamed. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you love your second husband?”... + </p> + <p> + She made no answer and turned her head away. + </p> + <p> + “Or is he very jealous?” + </p> + <p> + She remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “What then? He is young, handsome and, I suppose, rich—which is the + chief thing—and you are afraid?”... + </p> + <p> + I glanced at her and was alarmed. Profound despair was depicted upon her + countenance; tears were glistening in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she whispered at length, “do you find it very amusing to + torture me? I ought to hate you. Since we have known each other, you have + given me naught but suffering”... + </p> + <p> + Her voice shook; she leaned over to me, and let her head sink upon my + breast. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” I reflected, “it is for that very reason that you have loved + me; joys are forgotten, but sorrows never”... + </p> + <p> + I clasped her closely to my breast, and so we remained for a long time. At + length our lips drew closer and became blent in a fervent, intoxicating + kiss. Her hands were cold as ice; her head was burning. + </p> + <p> + And hereupon we embarked upon one of those conversations which, on paper, + have no sense, which it is impossible to repeat, and impossible even to + retain in memory. The meaning of the sounds replaces and completes the + meaning of the words, as in Italian opera. + </p> + <p> + She is decidedly averse to my making the acquaintance of her husband, the + lame old man of whom I had caught a glimpse on the boulevard. She married + him for the sake of her son. He is rich, and suffers from attacks of + rheumatism. I did not allow myself even a single scoff at his expense. She + respects him as a father, and will deceive him as a husband... A strange + thing, the human heart in general, and woman’s heart in particular. + </p> + <p> + Vera’s husband, Semyon Vasilevich G——v, is a distant relation + of Princess Ligovski. He lives next door to her. Vera frequently visits + the Princess. I have given her my promise to make the Ligovskis’ + acquaintance, and to pay court to Princess Mary in order to distract + attention from Vera. In such way, my plans have been not a little + deranged, but it will be amusing for me... + </p> + <p> + Amusing!... Yes, I have already passed that period of spiritual life when + happiness alone is sought, when the heart feels the urgent necessity of + violently and passionately loving somebody. Now my only wish is to be + loved, and that by very few. I even think that I would be content with one + constant attachment. A wretched habit of the heart!... + </p> + <p> + One thing has always struck me as strange. I have never made myself the + slave of the woman I have loved. On the contrary, I have always acquired + an invincible power over her will and heart, without in the least + endeavouring to do so. Why is this? Is it because I never esteem anything + highly, and she has been continually afraid to let me out of her hands? Or + is it the magnetic influence of a powerful organism? Or is it, simply, + that I have never succeeded in meeting a woman of stubborn character? + </p> + <p> + I must confess that, in fact, I do not love women who possess strength of + character. What business have they with such a thing? + </p> + <p> + Indeed, I remember now. Once and once only did I love a woman who had a + firm will which I was never able to vanquish... We parted as enemies—and + then, perhaps, if I had met her five years later we would have parted + otherwise... + </p> + <p> + Vera is ill, very ill, although she does not admit it. I fear she has + consumption, or that disease which is called “fievre lente”—a quite + unRussian disease, and one for which there is no name in our language. + </p> + <p> + The storm overtook us while in the grotto and detained us half an hour + longer. Vera did not make me swear fidelity, or ask whether I had loved + others since we had parted... She trusted in me anew with all her former + unconcern, and I will not deceive her: she is the only woman in the world + whom it would never be within my power to deceive. I know that we shall + soon have to part again, and perchance for ever. We will both go by + different ways to the grave, but her memory will remain inviolable within + my soul. I have always repeated this to her, and she believes me, although + she says she does not. + </p> + <p> + At length we separated. For a long time I followed her with my eyes, until + her hat was hidden behind the shrubs and rocks. My heart was painfully + contracted, just as after our first parting. Oh, how I rejoiced in that + emotion! Can it be that youth is about to come back to me, with its + salutary tempests, or is this only the farewell glance, the last gift—in + memory of itself?... And to think that, in appearance, I am still a boy! + My face, though pale, is still fresh; my limbs are supple and slender; my + hair is thick and curly, my eyes sparkle, my blood boils... + </p> + <p> + Returning home, I mounted on horseback and galloped to the steppe. I love + to gallop on a fiery horse through the tall grass, in the face of the + desert wind; greedily I gulp down the fragrant air and fix my gaze upon + the blue distance, endeavouring to seize the misty outlines of objects + which every minute grow clearer and clearer. Whatever griefs oppress my + heart, whatever disquietudes torture my thoughts—all are dispersed + in a moment; my soul becomes at ease; the fatigue of the body vanquishes + the disturbance of the mind. There is not a woman’s glance which I would + not forget at the sight of the tufted mountains, illumined by the southern + sun; at the sight of the dark-blue sky, or in hearkening to the roar of + the torrent as it falls from cliff to cliff. + </p> + <p> + I believe that the Cossacks, yawning on their watch-towers, when they saw + me galloping thus needlessly and aimlessly, were long tormented by that + enigma, because from my dress, I am sure, they took me to be a Circassian. + I have, in fact, been told that when riding on horseback, in my Circassian + costume, I resemble a Kabardian more than many a Kabardian himself. And, + indeed, so far as regards that noble, warlike garb, I am a perfect dandy. + I have not a single piece of gold lace too much; my weapon is costly, but + simply wrought; the fur on my cap is neither too long nor too short; my + leggings and shoes are matched with all possible accuracy; my tunic is + white; my Circassian jacket, dark-brown. I have long studied the + mountaineer seat on horseback, and in no way is it possible to flatter my + vanity so much as by acknowledging my skill in horsemanship in the Cossack + mode. I keep four horses—one for myself and three for my friends, so + that I may not be bored by having to roam about the fields all alone; they + take my horses with pleasure, and never ride with me. + </p> + <p> + It was already six o’clock in the evening, when I remembered that it was + time to dine. My horse was jaded. I rode out on to the road leading from + Pyatigorsk to the German colony, to which the society of the + watering-place frequently rides en piquenique. The road meanders between + bushes and descends into little ravines, through which flow noisy brooks + beneath the shade of tall grasses. All around, in an amphitheatre, rise + the blue masses of Mount Beshtau and the Zmeiny, Zhelezny and Lysy + Mountains. <a href="#linknote-26" name="linknoteref-26" id="linknoteref-26"><small>26</small></a> + Descending into one of those ravines, I halted to water my horse. At that + moment a noisy and glittering cavalcade made its appearance upon the road—the + ladies in black and dark-blue riding habits, the cavaliers in costumes + which formed a medley of the Circassian and Nizhegorodian. <a + href="#linknote-27" name="linknoteref-27" id="linknoteref-27"><small>27</small></a> + In front rode Grushnitski with Princess Mary. + </p> + <p> + The ladies at the watering-place still believe in attacks by Circassians + in broad daylight; for that reason, doubtless, Grushnitski had slung a + sabre and a pair of pistols over his soldier’s cloak. He looked ridiculous + enough in that heroic attire. + </p> + <p> + I was concealed from their sight by a tall bush, but I was able to see + everything through the leaves, and to guess from the expression of their + faces that the conversation was of a sentimental turn. At length they + approached the slope; Grushnitski took hold of the bridle of the + Princess’s horse, and then I heard the conclusion of their conversation: + </p> + <p> + “And you wish to remain all your life in the Caucasus?” said Princess + Mary. + </p> + <p> + “What is Russia to me?” answered her cavalier. “A country in which + thousands of people, because they are richer than I, will look upon me + with contempt, whilst here—here this thick cloak has not prevented + my acquaintance with you”... + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary”... said Princess Mary, blushing. + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski’s face was a picture of delight. He continued: + </p> + <p> + “Here, my life will flow along noisily, unobserved, and rapidly, under the + bullets of the savages, and if Heaven were every year to send me a single + bright glance from a woman’s eyes—like that which—” + </p> + <p> + At that moment they came up to where I was. I struck my horse with the + whip and rode out from behind the bush... + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu, un circassien!”... exclaimed Princess Mary in terror. + </p> + <p> + In order completely to undeceive her, I replied in French, with a slight + bow: + </p> + <p> + “Ne craignez rien, madame, je ne suis pas plus dangereux que votre + cavalier”... + </p> + <p> + She grew embarrassed—but at what? At her own mistake, or because my + answer struck her as insolent? I should like the latter hypothesis to be + correct. Grushnitski cast a discontented glance at me. + </p> + <p> + Late in the evening, that is to say, about eleven o’clock, I went for a + walk in the lilac avenue of the boulevard. The town was sleeping; lights + were gleaming in only a few windows. On three sides loomed the black + ridges of the cliffs, the spurs of Mount Mashuk, upon the summit of which + an ominous cloud was lying. The moon was rising in the east; in the + distance, the snow-clad mountains glistened like a fringe of silver. The + calls of the sentries mingled at intervals with the roar of the hot + springs let flow for the night. At times the loud clattering of a horse + rang out along the street, accompanied by the creaking of a Nagai wagon + and the plaintive burden of a Tartar song. + </p> + <p> + I sat down upon a bench and fell into a reverie... I felt the necessity of + pouring forth my thoughts in friendly conversation... But with whom?... + </p> + <p> + “What is Vera doing now?” I wondered. + </p> + <p> + I would have given much to press her hand at that moment. + </p> + <p> + All at once I heard rapid and irregular steps... Grushnitski, no doubt!... + So it was! + </p> + <p> + “Where have you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “From Princess Ligovski’s,” he said very importantly. “How well Mary does + sing!”... + </p> + <p> + “Do you know?” I said to him. “I wager that she does not know that you are + a cadet. She thinks you are an officer reduced to the ranks”... + </p> + <p> + “Maybe so. What is that to me!”... he said absently. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am only saying so”... + </p> + <p> + “But, do you know that you have made her terribly angry to-day? She + considered it an unheard-of piece of insolence. It was only with + difficulty that I was able to convince her that you are so well bred and + know society so well that you could not have had any intention of + insulting her. She says that you have an impudent glance, and that you + have certainly a very high opinion of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not mistaken... But do you not want to defend her?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry I have not yet the right to do so”... + </p> + <p> + “Oho!” I said to myself, “evidently he has hopes already.” + </p> + <p> + “However, it is the worse for you,” continued Grushnitski; “it will be + difficult for you to make their acquaintance now, and what a pity! It is + one of the most agreeable houses I know”... + </p> + <p> + I smiled inwardly. + </p> + <p> + “The most agreeable house to me now is my own,” I said, with a yawn, and I + got up to go. + </p> + <p> + “Confess, though, you repent?”... + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense! If I like I will be at Princess Ligovski’s to-morrow + evening!”... + </p> + <p> + “We shall see”... + </p> + <p> + “I will even begin to pay my addresses to Princess Mary, if you would like + me to”... + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if she is willing to speak to you”... + </p> + <p> + “I am only awaiting the moment when she will be bored by your + conversation... Goodbye”... + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am going for a stroll; I could not go to sleep now for + anything... Look here, let us go to the restaurant instead, there is + cardplaying going on there... What I need now is violent sensations”... + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will lose”... + </p> + <p> + I went home. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. 21st May. + </h2> + <p> + NEARLY a week has passed, and I have not yet made the Ligovskis’ + acquaintance. I am awaiting a convenient opportunity. Grushnitski follows + Princess Mary everywhere like a shadow. Their conversations are + interminable; but, when will she be tired of him?... Her mother pays no + attention, because he is not a man who is in a position to marry. Behold + the logic of mothers! I have caught two or three tender glances—this + must be put a stop to. + </p> + <p> + Yesterday, for the first time, Vera made her appearance at the well... She + has never gone out of doors since we met in the grotto. We let down our + tumblers at the same time, and as she bent forward she whispered to me: + </p> + <p> + “You are not going to make the Ligovskis’ acquaintance?... It is only + there that we can meet”... + </p> + <p> + A reproach!... How tiresome! But I have deserved it... + </p> + <p> + By the way, there is a subscription ball tomorrow in the saloon of the + restaurant, and I will dance the mazurka with Princess Mary. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. 29th May. + </h2> + <p> + THE saloon of the restaurant was converted into the assembly room of a + Nobles’ Club. The company met at nine o’clock. Princess Ligovski and her + daughter were amongst the latest to make their appearance. Several of the + ladies looked at Princess Mary with envy and malevolence, because she + dresses with taste. Those who look upon themselves as the aristocracy of + the place concealed their envy and attached themselves to her train. What + else could be expected? Wherever there is a gathering of women, the + company is immediately divided into a higher and a lower circle. + </p> + <p> + Beneath the window, amongst a crowd of people, stood Grushnitski, pressing + his face to the pane and never taking his eyes off his divinity. As she + passed by, she gave him a hardly perceptible nod. He beamed like the + sun... The first dance was a polonaise, after which the musicians struck + up a waltz. Spurs began to jingle, and skirts to rise and whirl. + </p> + <p> + I was standing behind a certain stout lady who was overshadowed by + rose-coloured feathers. The magnificence of her dress reminded me of the + times of the farthingale, and the motley hue of her by no means smooth + skin, of the happy epoch of the black taffeta patch. An immense wart on + her neck was covered by a clasp. She was saying to her cavalier, a captain + of dragoons: + </p> + <p> + “That young Princess Ligovski is a most intolerable creature! Just fancy, + she jostled against me and did not apologise, but even turned round and + stared at me through her lorgnette!... C’est impayable!... And what has + she to be proud of? It is time somebody gave her a lesson”... + </p> + <p> + “That will be easy enough,” replied the obliging captain, and he directed + his steps to the other room. + </p> + <p> + I went up to Princess Mary immediately, and, availing myself of the local + customs which allowed one to dance with a stranger, I invited her to waltz + with me. + </p> + <p> + She was scarcely able to keep from smiling and letting her triumph be + seen; but quickly enough she succeeded in assuming an air of perfect + indifference and even severity. Carelessly she let her hand fall upon my + shoulder, inclined her head slightly to one side, and we began to dance. I + have never known a waist more voluptuous and supple! Her fresh breath + touched my face; at times a lock of hair, becoming separated from its + companions in the eddy of the waltz, glided over my burning cheek... + </p> + <p> + I made three turns of the ballroom (she waltzes surprisingly well). She + was out of breath, her eyes were dulled, her half-open lips were scarcely + able to whisper the indispensable: “merci, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + After a few moments’ silence I said to her, assuming a very humble air: + </p> + <p> + “I have heard, Princess, that although quite unacquainted with you, I have + already had the misfortune to incur your displeasure... that you have + considered me insolent. Can that possibly true?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to confirm me in that opinion now?” she answered, with an + ironical little grimace—very becoming, however, to her mobile + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “If I had the audacity to insult you in any way, then allow me to have the + still greater audacity to beg your pardon... And, indeed, I should very + much like to prove to you that you are mistaken in regard to me”... + </p> + <p> + “You will find that a rather difficult task”... + </p> + <p> + “But why?”... + </p> + <p> + “Because you never visit us and, most likely, there will not be many more + of these balls.” + </p> + <p> + “That means,” I thought, “that their doors are closed to me for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “You know, Princess,” I said to her, with a certain amount of vexation, + “one should never spurn a penitent criminal: in his despair he may become + twice as much a criminal as before... and then”... + </p> + <p> + Sudden laughter and whispering from the people around us caused me to turn + my head and to interrupt my phrase. A few paces away from me stood a group + of men, amongst them the captain of dragoons, who had manifested + intentions hostile to the charming Princess. He was particularly well + pleased with something or other, and was rubbing his hands, laughing and + exchanging meaning glances with his companions. All at once a gentleman in + an evening-dress coat and with long moustaches and a red face separated + himself from the crowd and directed his uncertain steps straight towards + Princess Mary. He was drunk. Coming to a halt opposite the embarrassed + Princess and placing his hands behind his back, he fixed his dull grey + eyes upon her, and said in a hoarse treble: + </p> + <p> + “Permettez... but what is the good of that sort of thing here... All I + need say is: I engage you for the mazurka”... + </p> + <p> + “Very well!” she replied in a trembling voice, throwing a beseeching + glance around. Alas! Her mother was a long way off, and not one of the + cavaliers of her acquaintance was near. A certain aide-de-camp apparently + saw the whole scene, but he concealed himself behind the crowd in order + not to be mixed up in the affair. + </p> + <p> + “What?” said the drunken gentleman, winking to the captain of dragoons, + who was encouraging him by signs. “Do you not wish to dance then?... All + the same I again have the honour to engage you for the mazurka... You + think, perhaps, that I am drunk! That is all right!... I can dance all the + easier, I assure you”... + </p> + <p> + I saw that she was on the point of fainting with fright and indignation. + </p> + <p> + I went up to the drunken gentleman, caught him none too gently by the arm, + and, looking him fixedly in the face, requested him to retire. “Because,” + I added, “the Princess promised long ago to dance the mazurka with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, there’s nothing to be done! Another time!” he said, bursting + out laughing, and he retired to his abashed companions, who immediately + conducted him into another room. + </p> + <p> + I was rewarded by a deep, wondrous glance. + </p> + <p> + The Princess went up to her mother and told her the whole story. The + latter sought me out among the crowd and thanked me. She informed me that + she knew my mother and was on terms of friendship with half a dozen of my + aunts. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know how it has happened that we have not made your acquaintance + up to now,” she added; “but confess, you alone are to blame for that. You + fight shy of everyone in a positively unseemly way. I hope the air of my + drawingroom will dispel your spleen... Do you not think so?” + </p> + <p> + I uttered one of the phrases which everybody must have ready for such an + occasion. + </p> + <p> + The quadrilles dragged on a dreadfully long time. + </p> + <p> + At last the music struck up from the gallery, Princess Mary and I took up + our places. + </p> + <p> + I did not once allude to the drunken gentleman, or to my previous + behaviour, or to Grushnitski. The impression produced upon her by the + unpleasant scene was gradually dispelled; her face brightened up; she + jested very charmingly; her conversation was witty, without pretensions to + wit, vivacious and spontaneous; her observations were sometimes + profound... In a very involved sentence I gave her to understand that I + had liked her for a long time. She bent her head and blushed slightly. + </p> + <p> + “You are a strange man!” she said, with a forced laugh, lifting her velvet + eyes upon me. + </p> + <p> + “I did not wish to make your acquaintance,” I continued, “because you are + surrounded by too dense a throng of adorers, in which I was afraid of + being lost to sight altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not have been afraid; they are all very tiresome”... + </p> + <p> + “All? Not all, surely?” + </p> + <p> + She looked fixedly at me as if endeavouring to recollect something, then + blushed slightly again and finally pronounced with decision: + </p> + <p> + “All!” + </p> + <p> + “Even my friend, Grushnitski?” + </p> + <p> + “But is he your friend?” she said, manifesting some doubt. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “He, of course, does not come into the category of the tiresome”... + </p> + <p> + “But into that of the unfortunate!” I said, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Of course! But do you consider that funny? I should like you to be in his + place”... + </p> + <p> + “Well? I was once a cadet myself, and, in truth, it was the best time of + my life!” + </p> + <p> + “Is he a cadet, then?”... she said rapidly, and then added: “But I + thought”... + </p> + <p> + “What did you think?”... + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! Who is that lady?” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the conversation took a different direction, and it did not + return to the former subject. + </p> + <p> + And now the mazurka came to an end and we separated—until we should + meet again. The ladies drove off in different directions. I went to get + some supper, and met Werner. + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” he said: “so it is you! And yet you did not wish to make the + acquaintance of Princess Mary otherwise than by saving her from certain + death.” + </p> + <p> + “I have done better,” I replied. “I have saved her from fainting at the + ball”... + </p> + <p> + “How was that? Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, guess!—O, you who guess everything in the world!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. 30th May. + </h2> + <p> + ABOUT seven o’clock in the evening, I was walking on the boulevard. + Grushnitski perceived me a long way off, and came up to me. A sort of + ridiculous rapture was shining in his eyes. He pressed my hand warmly, and + said in a tragic voice: + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, Pechorin... You understand me?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but in any case it is not worth gratitude,” I answered, not having, + in fact, any good deed upon my conscience. + </p> + <p> + “What? But yesterday! Have you forgotten?... Mary has told me + everything”... + </p> + <p> + “Why! Have you everything in common so soon as this? Even gratitude?”... + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said Grushnitski very earnestly; “pray do not make fun of my + love, if you wish to remain my friend... You see, I love her to the point + of madness... and I think—I hope—she loves me too... I have a + request to make of you. You will be at their house this evening; promise + me to observe everything. I know you are experienced in these matters, you + know women better than I... Women! Women! Who can understand them? Their + smiles contradict their glances, their words promise and allure, but the + tone of their voice repels... At one time they grasp and divine in a + moment our most secret thoughts, at another they cannot understand the + clearest hints... Take Princess Mary, now: yesterday her eyes, as they + rested upon me, were blazing with passion; to-day they are dull and + cold”... + </p> + <p> + “That is possibly the result of the waters,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “You see the bad side of everything... materialist,” he added + contemptuously. “However, let us talk of other matters.” + </p> + <p> + And, satisfied with his bad pun, he cheered up. + </p> + <p> + At nine o’clock we went to Princess Ligovski’s together. + </p> + <p> + Passing by Vera’s windows, I saw her looking out. We threw a fleeting + glance at each other. She entered the Ligovskis’ drawing-room soon after + us. Princess Ligovski presented me to her, as a relation of her own. Tea + was served. The guests were numerous, and the conversation was general. I + endeavoured to please the Princess, jested, and made her laugh heartily a + few times. Princess Mary, also, was more than once on the point of + bursting out laughing, but she restrained herself in order not to depart + from the role she had assumed. She finds languor becoming to her, and + perhaps she is not mistaken. Grushnitski appears to be very glad that she + is not infected by my gaiety. + </p> + <p> + After tea we all went into the drawingroom. + </p> + <p> + “Are you satisfied with my obedience, Vera?” I said as I was passing her. + </p> + <p> + She threw me a glance full of love and gratitude. I have grown accustomed + to such glances; but at one time they constituted my felicity. The + Princess seated her daughter at the pianoforte, and all the company begged + her to sing. I kept silence, and, taking advantage of the hubbub, I went + aside to the window with Vera, who wished to say something of great + importance to both of us... It turned out to be—nonsense... + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile my indifference was vexing Princess Mary, as I was able to make + out from a single angry, gleaming glance which she cast at me... Oh! I + understand the method of conversation wonderfully well: mute but + expressive, brief but forceful!... + </p> + <p> + She began to sing. She has a good voice, but she sings badly... However, I + was not listening. + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski, on the contrary, leaning his elbows on the grand piano, + facing her, was devouring her with his eyes and saying in an undertone + every minute: “Charmant! Delicieux!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said Vera to me, “I do not wish you to make my husband’s + acquaintance, but you must, without fail, make yourself agreeable to the + Princess; that will be an easy task for you: you can do anything you wish. + It is only here that we shall see each other”... + </p> + <p> + “Only here?”... + </p> + <p> + She blushed and continued: + </p> + <p> + “You know that I am your slave: I have never been able to resist you... + and I shall be punished for it, you will cease to love me! At least, I + want to preserve my reputation... not for myself—that you know very + well!... Oh! I beseech you: do not torture me, as before, with idle doubts + and feigned coldness! It may be that I shall die soon; I feel that I am + growing weaker from day to day... And, yet, I cannot think of the future + life, I think only of you... You men do not understand the delights of a + glance, of a pressure of the hand... but as for me, I swear to you that, + when I listen to your voice, I feel such a deep, strange bliss that the + most passionate kisses could not take its place.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Princess Mary had finished her song. Murmurs of praise were to + be heard all around. I went up to her after all the other guests, and said + something rather carelessly to her on the subject of her voice. + </p> + <p> + She made a little grimace, pouting her lower lip, and dropped a very + sarcastic curtsey. + </p> + <p> + “That is all the more flattering,” she said, “because you have not been + listening to me at all; but perhaps you do not like music?”... + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I do... After dinner, especially.” + </p> + <p> + “Grushnitski is right in saying that you have very prosaic tastes... and I + see that you like music in a gastronomic respect.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken again: I am by no means an epicure. I have a most + wretched digestion. But music after dinner puts one to sleep, and to sleep + after dinner is healthful; consequently I like music in a medicinal + respect. In the evening, on the contrary, it excites my nerves too much: I + become either too melancholy or too gay. Both are fatiguing, where there + is no positive reason for being either sorrowful or glad. And, moreover, + melancholy in society is ridiculous, and too great gaiety is + unbecoming”... + </p> + <p> + She did not hear me to the end, but went away and sat beside Grushnitski, + and they entered into a sort of sentimental conversation. Apparently the + Princess answered his sage phrases rather absent-mindedly and + inconsequently, although endeavouring to show that she was listening to + him with attention, because sometimes he looked at her in astonishment, + trying to divine the cause of the inward agitation which was expressed at + times in her restless glance... + </p> + <p> + But I have found you out, my dear Princess! Have a care! You want to pay + me back in the same coin, to wound my vanity—you will not succeed! + And if you declare war on me, I will be merciless! + </p> + <p> + In the course of the evening, I purposely tried a few times to join in + their conversation, but she met my remarks rather coldly, and, at last, I + retired in pretended vexation. Princess Mary was triumphant, Grushnitski + likewise. Triumph, my friends, and be quick about it!... You will not have + long to triumph!... It cannot be otherwise. I have a presentiment... On + making a woman’s acquaintance I have always unerringly guessed whether she + would fall in love with me or not. + </p> + <p> + The remaining part of the evening I spent at Vera’s side, and talked to + the full about the old days... Why does she love me so much? In truth, I + am unable to say, all the more so because she is the only woman who has + understood me perfectly, with all my petty weaknesses and evil passions... + Can it be that wickedness is so attractive?... + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski and I left the house together. In the street he took my arm, + and, after a long silence, said: + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool,” I should have liked to answer. But I restrained myself + and only shrugged my shoulders. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. 6th June. + </h2> + <p> + ALL these days I have not once departed from my system. Princess Mary has + come to like talking to me; I have told her a few of the strange events of + my life, and she is beginning to look on me as an extraordinary man. I + mock at everything in the world, especially feelings; and she is taking + alarm. When I am present, she does not dare to embark upon sentimental + discussions with Grushnitski, and already, on a few occasions, she has + answered his sallies with a mocking smile. But every time that Grushnitski + comes up to her I assume an air of meekness and leave the two of them + together. On the first occasion, she was glad, or tried to make it appear + so; on the second, she was angry with me; on the third—with + Grushnitski. + </p> + <p> + “You have very little vanity!” she said to me yesterday. “What makes you + think that I find Grushnitski the more entertaining?” + </p> + <p> + I answered that I was sacrificing my own pleasure for the sake of the + happiness of a friend. + </p> + <p> + “And my pleasure, too,” she added. + </p> + <p> + I looked at her intently and assumed a serious air. After that for the + whole day I did not speak a single word to her... In the evening, she was + pensive; this morning, at the well, more pensive still. When I went up to + her, she was listening absent-mindedly to Grushnitski, who was apparently + falling into raptures about Nature, but, so soon as she perceived me, she + began to laugh—at a most inopportune moment—pretending not to + notice me. I went on a little further and began stealthily to observe her. + She turned away from her companion and yawned twice. Decidedly she had + grown tired of Grushnitski—I will not talk to her for another two + days. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. 11th June. + </h2> + <p> + I OFTEN ask myself why I am so obstinately endeavouring to win the love of + a young girl whom I do not wish to deceive, and whom I will never marry. + Why this woman-like coquetry? Vera loves me more than Princess Mary ever + will. Had I regarded the latter as an invincible beauty, I should perhaps + have been allured by the difficulty of the undertaking... + </p> + <p> + However, there is no such difficulty in this case! Consequently, my + present feeling is not that restless craving for love which torments us in + the early days of our youth, flinging us from one woman to another until + we find one who cannot endure us. And then begins our constancy—that + sincere, unending passion which may be expressed mathematically by a line + falling from a point into space—the secret of that endlessness lying + only in the impossibility of attaining the aim, that is to say, the end. + </p> + <p> + From what motive, then, am I taking all this trouble?—Envy of + Grushnitski? Poor fellow! + </p> + <p> + He is quite undeserving of it. Or, is it the result of that ugly, but + invincible, feeling which causes us to destroy the sweet illusions of our + neighbour in order to have the petty satisfaction of saying to him, when, + in despair, he asks what he is to believe: + </p> + <p> + “My friend, the same thing happened to me, and you see, nevertheless, that + I dine, sup, and sleep very peacefully, and I shall, I hope, know how to + die without tears and lamentations.” + </p> + <p> + There is, in sooth, a boundless enjoyment in the possession of a young, + scarce-budded soul! It is like a floweret which exhales its best perfume + at the kiss of the first ray of the sun. You should pluck the flower at + that moment, and, breathing its fragrance to the full, cast it upon the + road: perchance someone will pick it up! I feel within me that insatiate + hunger which devours everything it meets upon the way; I look upon the + sufferings and joys of others only from the point of view of their + relation to myself, regarding them as the nutriment which sustains my + spiritual forces. I myself am no longer capable of committing follies + under the influence of passion; with me, ambition has been repressed by + circumstances, but it has emerged in another form, because ambition is + nothing more nor less than a thirst for power, and my chief pleasure is to + make everything that surrounds me subject to my will. To arouse the + feeling of love, devotion and awe towards oneself—is not that the + first sign, and the greatest triumph, of power? To be the cause of + suffering and joy to another—without in the least possessing any + definite right to be so—is not that the sweetest food for our pride? + And what is happiness?—Satisfied pride. Were I to consider myself + the best, the most powerful man in the world, I should be happy; were all + to love me, I should find within me inexhaustible springs of love. Evil + begets evil; the first suffering gives us the conception of the + satisfaction of torturing another. The idea of evil cannot enter the mind + without arousing a desire to put it actually into practice. “Ideas are + organic entities,” someone has said. The very fact of their birth endows + them with form, and that form is action. He in whose brain the most ideas + are born accomplishes the most. From that cause a genius, chained to an + official desk, must die or go mad, just as it often happens that a man of + powerful constitution, and at the same time of sedentary life and simple + habits, dies of an apoplectic stroke. + </p> + <p> + Passions are naught but ideas in their first development; they are an + attribute of the youth of the heart, and foolish is he who thinks that he + will be agitated by them all his life. Many quiet rivers begin their + course as noisy waterfalls, and there is not a single stream which will + leap or foam throughout its way to the sea. That quietness, however, is + frequently the sign of great, though latent, strength. The fulness and + depth of feelings and thoughts do not admit of frenzied outbursts. In + suffering and in enjoyment the soul renders itself a strict account of all + it experiences and convinces itself that such things must be. It knows + that, but for storms, the constant heat of the sun would dry it up! It + imbues itself with its own life—pets and punishes itself like a + favourite child. It is only in that highest state of self-knowledge that a + man can appreciate the divine justice. + </p> + <p> + On reading over this page, I observe that I have made a wide digression + from my subject... But what matter?... You see, it is for myself that I am + writing this diary, and, consequently anything that I jot down in it will + in time be a valuable reminiscence for me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Grushnitski has called to see me to-day. He flung himself upon my neck; he + has been promoted to be an officer. We drank champagne. Doctor Werner came + in after him. + </p> + <p> + “I do not congratulate you,” he said to Grushnitski. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the soldier’s cloak suits you very well, and you must confess + that an infantry uniform, made by one of the local tailors, will not add + anything of interest to you... Do you not see? Hitherto, you have been an + exception, but now you will come under the general rule.” + </p> + <p> + “Talk away, doctor, talk away! You will not prevent me from rejoicing. He + does not know,” added Grushnitski in a whisper to me, “how many hopes + these epaulettes have lent me... Oh!... Epaulettes, epaulettes! Your + little stars are guiding stars! No! I am perfectly happy now!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you coming with us on our walk to the hollow?” I asked him. + </p> + <p> + “I? Not on any account will I show myself to Princess Mary until my + uniform is finished.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like me to inform her of your happiness?” + </p> + <p> + “No, please, not a word... I want to give her a surprise”... + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, though, how are you getting on with her?” + </p> + <p> + He became embarrassed, and fell into thought; he would gladly have bragged + and told lies, but his conscience would not let him; and, at the same + time, he was ashamed to confess the truth. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think? Does she love you?”... + </p> + <p> + “Love me? Good gracious, Pechorin, what ideas you do have!... How could + she possibly love me so soon?... And a well-bred woman, even if she is in + love, will never say so”... + </p> + <p> + “Very well! And, I suppose, in your opinion, a well-bred man should also + keep silence in regard to his passion?”... + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear fellow! There are ways of doing everything; often things may + remain unspoken, but yet may be guessed”... + </p> + <p> + “That is true... But the love which we read in the eyes does not pledge a + woman to anything, whilst words... Have a care, Grushnitski, she is + befooling you!” + </p> + <p> + “She?” he answered, raising his eyes heavenward and smiling complacently. + “I am sorry for you, Pechorin!”... + </p> + <p> + He took his departure. + </p> + <p> + In the evening, a numerous company set off to walk to the hollow. + </p> + <p> + In the opinion of the learned of Pyatigorsk, the hollow in question is + nothing more nor less than an extinct crater. It is situated on a slope of + Mount Mashuk, at the distance of a verst from the town, and is approached + by a narrow path between brushwood and rocks. In climbing up the hill, I + gave Princess Mary my arm, and she did not leave it during the whole + excursion. + </p> + <p> + Our conversation commenced with slander; I proceeded to pass in review our + present and absent acquaintances; at first I exposed their ridiculous, and + then their bad, sides. My choler rose. I began in jest, and ended in + genuine malice. At first she was amused, but afterwards frightened. + </p> + <p> + “You are a dangerous man!” she said. “I would rather perish in the woods + under the knife of an assassin than under your tongue... In all + earnestness I beg of you: when it comes into your mind to speak evil of + me, take a knife instead and cut my throat. I think you would not find + that a very difficult matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I like an assassin, then?”... + </p> + <p> + “You are worse”... + </p> + <p> + I fell into thought for a moment; then, assuming a deeply moved air, I + said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, such has been my lot from very childhood! All have read upon my + countenance the marks of bad qualities, which were not existent; but they + were assumed to exist—and they were born. I was modest—I was + accused of slyness: I grew secretive. I profoundly felt both good and evil—no + one caressed me, all insulted me: I grew vindictive. I was gloomy—other + children merry and talkative; I felt myself higher than they—I was + rated lower: I grew envious. I was prepared to love the whole world—no + one understood me: I learned to hate. My colourless youth flowed by in + conflict with myself and the world; fearing ridicule, I buried my best + feelings in the depths of my heart, and there they died. I spoke the truth—I + was not believed: I began to deceive. Having acquired a thorough knowledge + of the world and the springs of society, I grew skilled in the science of + life; and I saw how others without skill were happy, enjoying gratuitously + the advantages which I so unweariedly sought. Then despair was born within + my breast—not that despair which is cured at the muzzle of a pistol, + but the cold, powerless despair concealed beneath the mask of amiability + and a good-natured smile. I became a moral cripple. One half of my soul + ceased to exist; it dried up, evaporated, died, and I cut it off and cast + it from me. The other half moved and lived—at the service of all; + but it remained unobserved, because no one knew that the half which had + perished had ever existed. But, now, the memory of it has been awakened + within me by you, and I have read you its epitaph. To many, epitaphs in + general seem ridiculous, but to me they do not; especially when I remember + what reposes beneath them. I will not, however, ask you to share my + opinion. If this outburst seems absurd to you, I pray you, laugh! I + forewarn you that your laughter will not cause me the least chagrin.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment I met her eyes: tears were welling in them. Her arm, as it + leaned upon mine, was trembling; her cheeks were aflame; she pitied me! + Sympathy—a feeling to which all women yield so easily, had dug its + talons into her inexperienced heart. During the whole excursion she was + preoccupied, and did not flirt with anyone—and that is a great sign! + </p> + <p> + We arrived at the hollow; the ladies left their cavaliers, but she did not + let go my arm. The witticisms of the local dandies failed to make her + laugh; the steepness of the declivity beside which she was standing caused + her no alarm, although the other ladies uttered shrill cries and shut + their eyes. + </p> + <p> + On the way back, I did not renew our melancholy conversation, but to my + idle questions and jests she gave short and absent-minded answers. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever been in love?” I asked her at length. + </p> + <p> + She looked at me intently, shook her head and again fell into a reverie. + It was evident that she was wishing to say something, but did not know how + to begin. Her breast heaved... And, indeed, that was but natural! A muslin + sleeve is a weak protection, and an electric spark was running from my arm + to hers. Almost all passions have their beginning in that way, and + frequently we are very much deceived in thinking that a woman loves us for + our moral and physical merits; of course, these prepare and predispose the + heart for the reception of the holy flame, but for all that it is the + first touch that decides the matter. + </p> + <p> + “I have been very amiable to-day, have I not?” Princess Mary said to me, + with a forced smile, when we had returned from the walk. + </p> + <p> + We separated. + </p> + <p> + She is dissatisfied with herself. She accuses herself of coldness... Oh, + that is the first, the chief triumph! + </p> + <p> + To-morrow, she will be feeling a desire to recompense me. I know the whole + proceeding by heart already—that is what is so tiresome! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. 12th June. + </h2> + <p> + I HAVE seen Vera to-day. She has begun to plague me with her jealousy. + Princess Mary has taken it into her head, it seems, to confide the secrets + of her heart to Vera: a happy choice, it must be confessed! + </p> + <p> + “I can guess what all this is leading to,” said Vera to me. “You had + better simply tell me at once that you are in love with her.” + </p> + <p> + “But supposing I am not in love with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Then why run after her, disturb her, agitate her imagination!... Oh, I + know you well! Listen—if you wish me to believe you, come to + Kislovodsk in a week’s time; we shall be moving thither the day after + to-morrow. Princess Mary will remain here longer. Engage lodgings next + door to us. We shall be living in the large house near the spring, on the + mezzanine floor. Princess Ligovski will be below us, and next door there + is a house belonging to the same landlord, which has not yet been taken... + Will you come?”... + </p> + <p> + I gave my promise, and this very same day I have sent to engage the + lodgings. + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski came to me at six o’clock and announced that his uniform would + be ready to-morrow, just in time for him to go to the ball in it. + </p> + <p> + “At last I shall dance with her the whole evening through... And then I + shall talk to my heart’s content,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “When is the ball?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to-morrow! Do you not know, then? A great festival—and the + local authorities have undertaken to organize it”... + </p> + <p> + “Let us go to the boulevard”... + </p> + <p> + “Not on any account, in this nasty cloak”... + </p> + <p> + “What! Have you ceased to love it?”... + </p> + <p> + I went out alone, and, meeting Princess Mary I asked her to keep the + mazurka for me. She seemed surprised and delighted. + </p> + <p> + “I thought that you would only dance from necessity as on the last + occasion,” she said, with a very charming smile... + </p> + <p> + She does not seem to notice Grushnitski’s absence at all. + </p> + <p> + “You will be agreeably surprised to-morrow,” I said to her. + </p> + <p> + “At what?” + </p> + <p> + “That is a secret... You will find it out yourself, at the ball.” + </p> + <p> + I finished up the evening at Princess Ligovski’s; there were no other + guests present except Vera and a certain very amusing, little old + gentleman. I was in good spirits, and improvised various extraordinary + stories. Princess Mary sat opposite me and listened to my nonsense with + such deep, strained, and even tender attention that I grew ashamed of + myself. What had become of her vivacity, her coquetry, her caprices, her + haughty mien, her contemptuous smile, her absentminded glance?... + </p> + <p> + Vera noticed everything, and her sickly countenance was a picture of + profound grief. She was sitting in the shadow by the window, buried in a + wide arm-chair... I pitied her. + </p> + <p> + Then I related the whole dramatic story of our acquaintanceship, our love—concealing + it all, of course, under fictitious names. + </p> + <p> + So vividly did I portray my tenderness, my anxieties, my raptures; in so + favourable a light did I exhibit her actions and her character, that + involuntarily she had to forgive me for my flirtation with Princess Mary. + </p> + <p> + She rose, sat down beside us, and brightened up... and it was only at two + o’clock in the morning that we remembered that the doctors had ordered her + to go to bed at eleven. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. 13th June. + </h2> + <p> + HALF an hour before the ball, Grushnitski presented himself to me in the + full splendour of the uniform of the Line infantry. Attached to his third + button was a little bronze chain, on which hung a double lorgnette. + Epaulettes of incredible size were bent backwards and upwards in the shape + of a cupid’s wings; his boots creaked; in his left hand he held + cinnamon-coloured kid gloves and a forage-cap, and with his right he kept + every moment twisting his frizzled tuft of hair up into tiny curls. + Complacency and at the same time a certain diffidence were depicted upon + his face. His festal appearance and proud gait would have made me burst + out laughing, if such a proceeding had been in accordance with my + intentions. + </p> + <p> + He threw his cap and gloves on the table and began to pull down the skirts + of his coat and to put himself to rights before the looking-glass. An + enormous black handkerchief, which was twisted into a very high stiffener + for his cravat, and the bristles of which supported his chin, stuck out an + inch over his collar. It seemed to him to be rather small, and he drew it + up as far as his ears. As a result of that hard work—the collar of + his uniform being very tight and uncomfortable—he grew red in the + face. + </p> + <p> + “They say you have been courting my princess terribly these last few + days?” he said, rather carelessly and without looking at me. + </p> + <p> + “‘Where are we fools to drink tea!’” <a href="#linknote-271" + name="linknoteref-271" id="linknoteref-271"><small>271</small></a> I + answered, repeating a pet phrase of one of the cleverest rogues of past + times, once celebrated in song by Pushkin. +</p> + <p> +“Tell me, does my uniform fit + me well?... Oh, the cursed Jew!... How it cuts me under the armpits!... + Have you got any scent?” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, what more do you want? You are reeking of rose pomade as + it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. Give me some”... + </p> + <p> + He poured half a phial over his cravat, his pocket-handkerchief, his + sleeves. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to dance?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I think not.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I shall have to lead off the mazurka with Princess Mary, and + I scarcely know a single figure”... + </p> + <p> + “Have you asked her to dance the mazurka with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet”... + </p> + <p> + “Mind you are not forestalled”... + </p> + <p> + “Just so, indeed!” he said, striking his forehead. “Good-bye... I will go + and wait for her at the entrance.” + </p> + <p> + He seized his forage-cap and ran. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later I also set off. The street was dark and deserted. + Around the assembly rooms, or inn—whichever you prefer—people + were thronging. The windows were lighted up, the strains of the regimental + band were borne to me on the evening breeze. I walked slowly; I felt + melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “Can it be possible,” I thought, “that my sole mission on earth is to + destroy the hopes of others? Ever since I began to live and to act, it + seems always to have been my fate to play a part in the ending of other + people’s dramas, as if, but for me, no one could either die or fall into + despair! I have been the indispensable person of the fifth act; + unwillingly I have played the pitiful part of an executioner or a traitor. + What object has fate had in this?... Surely, I have not been appointed by + destiny to be an author of middle-class tragedies and family romances, or + to be a collaborator with the purveyor of stories—for the ‘Reader’s + Library,’ <a href="#linknote-272" name="linknoteref-272" + id="linknoteref-272"><small>272</small></a> for example?... How can I + tell?... Are there not many people who, in beginning life, think to end it + like Lord Byron or Alexander the Great, and, nevertheless, remain Titular + Councillors <a href="#linknote-273" name="linknoteref-273" + id="linknoteref-273"><small>273</small></a> all their days?” + </p> + <p> + Entering the saloon, I concealed myself in a crowd of men, and began to + make my observations. + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski was standing beside Princess Mary and saying something with + great warmth. She was listening to him absent-mindedly and looking about + her, her fan laid to her lips. Impatience was depicted upon her face, her + eyes were searching all around for somebody. I went softly behind them in + order to listen to their conversation. + </p> + <p> + “You torture me, Princess!” Grushnitski was saying. “You have changed + dreadfully since I saw you last”... + </p> + <p> + “You, too, have changed,” she answered, casting a rapid glance at him, in + which he was unable to detect the latent sneer. + </p> + <p> + “I! Changed?... Oh, never! You know that such a thing is impossible! + Whoever has seen you once will bear your divine image with him for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop”... + </p> + <p> + “But why will you not let me say to-night what you have so often listened + to with condescension—and just recently, too?”... + </p> + <p> + “Because I do not like repetitions,” she answered, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I have been bitterly mistaken!... I thought, fool that I was, that + these epaulettes, at least, would give me the right to hope... No, it + would have been better for me to have remained for ever in that + contemptible soldier’s cloak, to which, probably, I was indebted for your + attention”... + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of fact, the cloak is much more becoming to you”... + </p> + <p> + At that moment I went up and bowed to Princess Mary. She blushed a little, + and went on rapidly: + </p> + <p> + “Is it not true, Monsieur Pechorin, that the grey cloak suits Monsieur + Grushnitski much better?”... + </p> + <p> + “I do not agree with you,” I answered: “he is more youthful-looking still + in his uniform.” + </p> + <p> + That was a blow which Grushnitski could not bear: like all boys, he has + pretensions to being an old man; he thinks that the deep traces of + passions upon his countenance take the place of the lines scored by Time. + He cast a furious glance at me, stamped his foot, and took himself off. + </p> + <p> + “Confess now,” I said to Princess Mary: “that although he has always been + most ridiculous, yet not so long ago he seemed to you to be interesting... + in the grey cloak?”... + </p> + <p> + She cast her eyes down and made no reply. + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski followed the Princess about during the whole evening and + danced either with her or vis-a-vis. He devoured her with his eyes, + sighed, and wearied her with prayers and reproaches. After the third + quadrille she had begun to hate him. + </p> + <p> + “I did not expect this from you,” he said, coming up to me and taking my + arm. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to dance the mazurka with her?” he asked in a solemn tone. + “She admitted it”... + </p> + <p> + “Well, what then? It is not a secret, is it”? + </p> + <p> + “Of course not... I ought to have expected such a thing from that chit—that + flirt... I will have my revenge, though!” + </p> + <p> + “You should lay the blame on your cloak, or your epaulettes, but why + accuse her? What fault is it of hers that she does not like you any + longer?”... + </p> + <p> + “But why give me hopes?” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you hope? To desire and to strive after something—that I + can understand! But who ever hopes?” + </p> + <p> + “You have won the wager, but not quite,” he said, with a malignant smile. + </p> + <p> + The mazurka began. Grushnitski chose no one but the Princess, other + cavaliers chose her every minute: obviously a conspiracy against me—all + the better! She wants to talk to me, they are preventing her—she + will want to twice as much. + </p> + <p> + I squeezed her hand once or twice; the second time she drew it away + without saying a word. + </p> + <p> + “I shall sleep badly to-night,” she said to me when the mazurka was over. + </p> + <p> + “Grushnitski is to blame for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” + </p> + <p> + And her face became so pensive, so sad, that I promised myself that I + would not fail to kiss her hand that evening. + </p> + <p> + The guests began to disperse. As I was handing Princess Mary into her + carriage, I rapidly pressed her little hand to my lips. The night was dark + and nobody could see. + </p> + <p> + I returned to the saloon very well satisfied with myself. + </p> + <p> + The young men, Grushnitski amongst them, were having supper at the large + table. As I came in, they all fell silent: evidently they had been talking + about me. Since the last ball many of them have been sulky with me, + especially the captain of dragoons; and now, it seems, a hostile gang is + actually being formed against me, under the command of Grushnitski. He + wears such a proud and courageous air... + </p> + <p> + I am very glad; I love enemies, though not in the Christian sense. They + amuse me, stir my blood. To be always on one’s guard, to catch every + glance, the meaning of every word, to guess intentions, to crush + conspiracies, to pretend to be deceived and suddenly with one blow to + overthrow the whole immense and laboriously constructed edifice of cunning + and design—that is what I call life. + </p> + <p> + During supper Grushnitski kept whispering and exchanging winks with the + captain of dragoons. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. 14th June. + </h2> + <p> + VERA and her husband left this morning for Kislovodsk. I met their + carriage as I was walking to Princess Ligovski’s. Vera nodded to me: + reproach was in her glance. + </p> + <p> + Who is to blame, then? Why will she not give me an opportunity of seeing + her alone? Love is like fire—if not fed it dies out. Perchance, + jealousy will accomplish what my entreaties have failed to do. + </p> + <p> + I stayed a whole hour at Princess Ligovski’s. Mary has not been out, she + is ill. In the evening she was not on the boulevard. The newly formed + gang, armed with lorgnettes, has in very fact assumed a menacing aspect. I + am glad that Princess Mary is ill; they might be guilty of some + impertinence towards her. Grushnitski goes about with dishevelled locks, + and wears an appearance of despair: he is evidently afflicted, as a matter + of fact; his vanity especially has been injured. But, you see, there are + some people in whom even despair is diverting!... + </p> + <p> + On my way home I noticed that something was lacking. I have not seen her! + She is ill! Surely I have not fallen in love with her in real earnest?... + What nonsense! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. 15th June. + </h2> + <p> + AT eleven o’clock in the morning—the hour at which Princess Ligovski + is usually perspiring in the Ermolov baths—I walked past her house. + Princess Mary was sitting pensively at the window; on seeing me she sprang + up. + </p> + <p> + I entered the ante-room, there was nobody there, and, availing myself of + the freedom afforded by the local customs, I made my way, unannounced, + into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Princess Mary’s charming countenance was shrouded with a dull pallor. She + was standing by the pianoforte, leaning one hand on the back of an + arm-chair; her hand was very faintly trembling. I went up to her softly + and said: + </p> + <p> + “You are angry with me?”... + </p> + <p> + She lifted a deep, languid glance upon me and shook her head. Her lips + were about to utter something, but failed; her eyes filled with tears; she + sank into the arm-chair and buried her face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you?” I said, taking her hand. + </p> + <p> + “You do not respect me!... Oh, leave me!”... + </p> + <p> + I took a few steps... She drew herself up in the chair, her eyes sparkled. + </p> + <p> + I stopped still, took hold of the handle of the door, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Princess. I have acted like a madman... It will not happen + another time; I shall see to that... But how can you know what has been + taking place hitherto within my soul? That you will never learn, and so + much the better for you. Farewell.” + </p> + <p> + As I was going out, I seemed to hear her weeping. + </p> + <p> + I wandered on foot about the environs of Mount Mashuk till evening, + fatigued myself terribly and, on arriving home, flung myself on my bed, + utterly exhausted. + </p> + <p> + Werner came to see me. + </p> + <p> + “Is it true,” he asked, “that you are going to marry Princess Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “The whole town is saying so. All my patients are occupied with that + important piece of news; but you know what these patients are: they know + everything.” + </p> + <p> + “This is one of Grushnitski’s tricks,” I said to myself. + </p> + <p> + “To prove the falsity of these rumours, doctor, I may mention, as a + secret, that I am moving to Kislovodsk to-morrow”... + </p> + <p> + “And Princess Mary, too?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she remains here another week”... + </p> + <p> + “So you are not going to get married?”... + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, doctor! Look at me! Am I in the least like a bridegroom, or any + such thing?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not saying so... But you know there are occasions...” he added, with + a crafty smile—“in which an honourable man is obliged to marry, and + there are mothers who, to say the least, do not prevent such occasions... + And so, as a friend, I should advise you to be more cautious. The air of + these parts is very dangerous. How many handsome young men, worthy of a + better fate, have I not seen departing from here straight to the altar!... + Would you believe me, they were even going to find a wife for me! That is + to say, one person was—a lady belonging to this district, who had a + very pale daughter. I had the misfortune to tell her that the latter’s + colour would be restored after wedlock, and then with tears of gratitude + she offered me her daughter’s hand and the whole of her own fortune—fifty + souls, <a href="#linknote-28" name="linknoteref-28" id="linknoteref-28"><small>28</small></a> + I think. But I replied that I was unfit for such an honour.” + </p> + <p> + Werner left, fully convinced that he had put me on my guard. + </p> + <p> + I gathered from his words that various ugly rumours were already being + spread about the town on the subject of Princess Mary and myself: + Grushnitski shall smart for this! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. 18th June. + </h2> + <p> + I HAVE been in Kislovodsk three days now. Every day I see Vera at the well + and out walking. In the morning, when I awake, I sit by my window and + direct my lorgnette at her balcony. She has already been dressed long ago, + and is waiting for the signal agreed upon. We meet, as though + unexpectedly, in the garden which slopes down from our houses to the well. + The life-giving mountain air has brought back her colour and her strength. + Not for nothing is Narzan called the “Spring of Heroes.” The inhabitants + aver that the air of Kislovodsk predisposes the heart to love and that all + the romances which have had their beginning at the foot of Mount Mashuk + find their consummation here. And, in very fact, everything here breathes + of solitude; everything has an air of secrecy—the thick shadows of + the linden avenues, bending over the torrent which falls, noisy and + foaming, from flag to flag and cleaves itself a way between the mountains + now becoming clad with verdure—the mist-filled, silent ravines, with + their ramifications straggling away in all directions—the freshness + of the aromatic air, laden with the fragrance of the tall southern grasses + and the white acacia—the never-ceasing, sweetly-slumberous babble of + the cool brooks, which, meeting at the end of the valley, flow along in + friendly emulation, and finally fling themselves into the Podkumok. On + this side, the ravine is wider and becomes converted into a verdant dell, + through which winds the dusty road. Every time I look at it, I seem to see + a carriage coming along and a rosy little face looking out of the + carriage-window. Many carriages have already driven by—but still + there is no sign of that particular one. The village which lies behind the + fortress has become populous. In the restaurant, built upon a hill a few + paces distant from my lodgings, lights are beginning to flash in the + evening through the double row of poplars; noise and the jingling of + glasses resound till late at night. + </p> + <p> + In no place are such quantities of Kakhetian wine and mineral waters drunk + as here. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And many are willing to mix the two, + + But that is a thing I never do.” + </pre> + <p> + Every day Grushnitski and his gang are to be found brawling in the inn, + and he has almost ceased to greet me. + </p> + <p> + He only arrived yesterday, and has already succeeded in quarrelling with + three old men who were going to take their places in the baths before him. + </p> + <p> + Decidedly, his misfortunes are developing a warlike spirit within him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. 22nd June. + </h2> + <p> + AT last they have arrived. I was sitting by the window when I heard the + clattering of their carriage. My heart throbbed... What does it mean? Can + it be that I am in love?... I am so stupidly constituted that such a thing + might be expected of me. + </p> + <p> + I dined at their house. Princess Ligovski looked at me with much + tenderness, and did not leave her daughter’s side... a bad sign! On the + other hand, Vera is jealous of me in regard to Princess Mary—however, + I have been striving for that good fortune. What will not a woman do in + order to chagrin her rival? I remember that once a woman loved me simply + because I was in love with another woman. There is nothing more + paradoxical than the female mind; it is difficult to convince a woman of + anything; they have to be led into convincing themselves. The order of the + proofs by which they demolish their prejudices is most original; to learn + their dialectic it is necessary to overthrow in your own mind every + scholastic rule of logic. For example, the usual way: + </p> + <p> + “This man loves me; but I am married: therefore I must not love him.” + </p> + <p> + The woman’s way: + </p> + <p> + “I must not love him, because I am married; but he loves me—therefore”... + </p> + <p> + A few dots here, because reason has no more to say. But, generally, there + is something to be said by the tongue, and the eyes, and, after these, the + heart—if there is such a thing. + </p> + <p> + What if these notes should one day meet a woman’s eye? + </p> + <p> + “Slander!” she will exclaim indignantly. + </p> + <p> + Ever since poets have written and women have read them (for which the + poets should be most deeply grateful) women have been called angels so + many times that, in very truth, in their simplicity of soul, they have + believed the compliment, forgetting that, for money, the same poets have + glorified Nero as a demigod... + </p> + <p> + It would be unreasonable were I to speak of women with such malignity—I + who have loved nothing else in the world—I who have always been + ready to sacrifice for their sake ease, ambition, life itself... But, you + see, I am not endeavouring, in a fit of vexation and injured vanity, to + pluck from them the magic veil through which only an accustomed glance can + penetrate. No, all that I say about them is but the result of + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “A mind which coldly hath observed, + + A heart which bears the stamp of woe.” <a href="#linknote-29" + name="linknoteref-29" id="linknoteref-29">29</a> +</pre> + <p> + Women ought to wish that all men knew them as well as I because I have + loved them a hundred times better since I have ceased to be afraid of them + and have comprehended their little weaknesses. + </p> + <p> + By the way: the other day, Werner compared women to the enchanted forest + of which Tasso tells in his “Jerusalem Delivered.” <a href="#linknote-30" + name="linknoteref-30" id="linknoteref-30"><small>30</small></a> + </p> + <p> + “So soon as you approach,” he said, “from all directions terrors, such as + I pray Heaven may preserve us from, will take wing at you: duty, pride, + decorum, public opinion, ridicule, contempt... You must simply go straight + on without looking at them; gradually the monsters disappear, and, before + you, opens a bright and quiet glade, in the midst of which blooms the + green myrtle. On the other hand, woe to you if, at the first steps, your + heart trembles and you turn back!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. 24th June. + </h2> + <p> + THIS evening has been fertile in events. About three versts from + Kislovodsk, in the gorge through which the Podkumok flows, there is a + cliff called the Ring. It is a naturally formed gate, rising upon a lofty + hill, and through it the setting sun throws its last flaming glance upon + the world. A numerous cavalcade set off thither to gaze at the sunset + through the rock-window. To tell the truth, not one of them was thinking + about the sun. I rode beside Princess Mary. On the way home, we had to + ford the Podkumok. Mountain streams, even the smallest, are dangerous; + especially so, because the bottom is a perfect kaleidoscope: it changes + every day owing to the pressure of the current; where yesterday there was + a rock, to-day there is a cavity. I took Princess Mary’s horse by the + bridle and led it into the water, which came no higher than its knees. We + began to move slowly in a slanting direction against the current. It is a + well-known fact that, in crossing rapid streamlets, you should never look + at the water, because, if you do, your head begins to whirl directly. I + forgot to warn Princess Mary of that. + </p> + <p> + We had reached the middle and were right in the vortex, when suddenly she + reeled in her saddle. + </p> + <p> + “I feel ill!” she said in a faint voice. + </p> + <p> + I bent over to her rapidly and threw my arm around her supple waist. + </p> + <p> + “Look up!” I whispered. “It is nothing; just be brave! I am with you.” + </p> + <p> + She grew better; she was about to disengage herself from my arm, but I + clasped her tender, soft figure in a still closer embrace; my cheek almost + touched hers, from which was wafted flame. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing to me?... Oh, Heaven!”... + </p> + <p> + I paid no attention to her alarm and confusion, and my lips touched her + tender cheek. She shuddered, but said nothing. We were riding behind the + others: nobody saw us. + </p> + <p> + When we made our way out on the bank, the horses were all put to the trot. + Princess Mary kept hers back; I remained beside her. It was evident that + my silence was making her uneasy, but I swore to myself that I would not + speak a single word—out of curiosity. I wanted to see how she would + extricate herself from that embarrassing position. + </p> + <p> + “Either you despise me, or you love me very much!” she said at length, and + there were tears in her voice. “Perhaps you want to laugh at me, to excite + my soul and then to abandon me... That would be so base, so vile, that the + mere supposition... Oh, no!” she added, in a voice of tender trustfulness; + “there is nothing in me which would preclude respect; is it not so? Your + presumptuous action... I must, I must forgive you for it, because I + permitted it... Answer, speak, I want to hear your voice!”... + </p> + <p> + There was such womanly impatience in her last words that, involuntarily, I + smiled; happily it was beginning to grow dusk... I made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “You are silent!” she continued; “you wish, perhaps, that I should be the + first to tell you that I love you.”... + </p> + <p> + I remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “Is that what you wish?” she continued, turning rapidly towards me.... + There was something terrible in the determination of her glance and voice. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” I answered, shrugging my shoulders. + </p> + <p> + She struck her horse with her riding-whip and set off at full gallop along + the narrow, dangerous road. It all happened so quickly that I was scarcely + able to overtake her, and then only by the time she had joined the rest of + the company. + </p> + <p> + All the way home she was continually talking and laughing. There was + something feverish in her movements; not once did she look in my + direction. Everybody observed her unusual gaiety. Princess Ligovski + rejoiced inwardly as she looked at her daughter. However, the latter + simply has a fit of nerves: she will spend a sleepless night, and will + weep. + </p> + <p> + This thought affords me measureless delight: there are moments when I + understand the Vampire... And yet I am reputed to be a good fellow, and I + strive to earn that designation! + </p> + <p> + On dismounting, the ladies went into Princess Ligovski’s house. I was + excited, and I galloped to the mountains in order to dispel the thoughts + which had thronged into my head. The dewy evening breathed an intoxicating + coolness. The moon was rising from behind the dark summits. Each step of + my unshod horse resounded hollowly in the silence of the gorges. I watered + the horse at the waterfall, and then, after greedily inhaling once or + twice the fresh air of the southern night. + </p> + <p> + I set off on my way back. +</p> + <p> +I rode through the village. The lights in the + windows were beginning to go out; the sentries on the fortress-rampart and + the Cossacks in the surrounding pickets were calling out in drawling tones + to one another. + </p> + <p> + In one of the village houses, built at the edge of a ravine, I noticed an + extraordinary illumination. At times, discordant murmurs and shouting + could be heard, proving that a military carouse was in full swing. I + dismounted and crept up to the window. The shutter had not been made fast, + and I could see the banqueters and catch what they were saying. They were + talking about me. + </p> + <p> + The captain of dragoons, flushed with wine, struck the table with his + fist, demanding attention. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen!” he said, “this won’t do! Pechorin must be taught a lesson! + These Petersburg fledglings always carry their heads high until they get a + slap in the face! He thinks that because he always wears clean gloves and + polished boots he is the only one who has ever lived in society. And what + a haughty smile! All the same, I am convinced that he is a coward—yes, + a coward!” + </p> + <p> + “I think so too,” said Grushnitski. “He is fond of getting himself out of + trouble by pretending to be only having a joke. I once gave him such a + talking to that anyone else in his place would have cut me to pieces on + the spot. But Pechorin turned it all to the ridiculous side. I, of course, + did not call him out because that was his business, but he did not care to + have anything more to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Grushnitski is angry with him for having captured Princess Mary from + him,” somebody said. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a new idea! It is true I did run after Princess Mary a little, but + I left off at once because I do not want to get married; and it is against + my rules to compromise a girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I assure you that he is a coward of the first water, I mean + Pechorin, not Grushnitski—but Grushnitski is a fine fellow, and, + besides, he is my true friend!” the captain of dragoons went on. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen! Nobody here stands up for him? Nobody? So much the better! + Would you like to put his courage to the test? It would be amusing”... + </p> + <p> + “We would; but how?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen here, then: Grushnitski in particular is angry with him—therefore + to Grushnitski falls the chief part. He will pick a quarrel over some + silly trifle or other, and will challenge Pechorin to a duel... Wait a + bit; here is where the joke comes in... He will challenge him to a duel; + very well! The whole proceeding—challenge, preparations, conditions—will + be as solemn and awe-inspiring as possible—I will see to that. I + will be your second, my poor friend! Very well! Only here is the rub; we + will put no bullets in the pistols. I can answer for it that Pechorin will + turn coward—I will place them six paces apart, devil take it! Are + you agreed, gentlemen?” + </p> + <p> + “Splendid idea!... Agreed!... And why not?”... came from all sides. + </p> + <p> + “And you, Grushnitski?” + </p> + <p> + Tremblingly I awaited Grushnitski’s answer. I was filled with cold rage at + the thought that, but for an accident, I might have made myself the + laughing-stock of those fools. If Grushnitski had not agreed, I should + have thrown myself upon his neck; but, after an interval of silence, he + rose from his place, extended his hand to the captain, and said very + gravely: + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I agree!” + </p> + <p> + It would be difficult to describe the enthusiasm of that honourable + company. + </p> + <p> + I returned home, agitated by two different feelings. The first was sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Why do they all hate me?” I thought—“why? Have I affronted anyone? + No. Can it be that I am one of those men the mere sight of whom is enough + to create animosity?” + </p> + <p> + And I felt a venomous rage gradually filling my soul. + </p> + <p> + “Have a care, Mr. Grushnitski!” I said, walking up and down the room: “I + am not to be jested with like this! You may pay dearly for the approbation + of your foolish comrades. I am not your toy!”... + </p> + <p> + I got no sleep that night. By daybreak I was as yellow as an orange. + </p> + <p> + In the morning I met Princess Mary at the well. + </p> + <p> + “You are ill?” she said, looking intently at me. + </p> + <p> + “I did not sleep last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I either... I was accusing you... perhaps groundlessly. But explain + yourself, I can forgive you everything”... + </p> + <p> + “Everything?”... + </p> + <p> + “Everything... only speak the truth... and be quick... You see, I have + been thinking a good deal, trying to explain, to justify, your behaviour. + Perhaps you are afraid of opposition on the part of my relations... that + will not matter. When they learn”... + </p> + <p> + Her voice shook. + </p> + <p> + “I will win them over by entreaties. Or, is it your own position?... But + you know that I can sacrifice everything for the sake of the man I love... + Oh, answer quickly—have pity... You do not despise me—do you?” + </p> + <p> + She seized my hand. + </p> + <p> + Princess Ligovski was walking in front of us with Vera’s husband, and had + not seen anything; but we might have been observed by some of the invalids + who were strolling about—the most inquisitive gossips of all + inquisitive folk—and I rapidly disengaged my hand from her + passionate pressure. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you the whole truth,” I answered. “I will not justify myself, + nor explain my actions: I do not love you.” + </p> + <p> + Her lips grew slightly pale. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me,” she said, in a scarcely audible voice. + </p> + <p> + I shrugged my shoulders, turned round, and walked away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. 25th June. + </h2> + <p> + I SOMETIMES despise myself... Is not that the reason why I despise others + also?... I have grown incapable of noble impulses; I am afraid of + appearing ridiculous to myself. In my place, another would have offered + Princess Mary son coeur et sa fortune; but over me the word “marry” has a + kind of magical power. However passionately I love a woman, if she only + gives me to feel that I have to marry her—then farewell, love! My + heart is turned to stone, and nothing will warm it anew. I am prepared for + any other sacrifice but that; my life twenty times over, nay, my honour I + would stake on the fortune of a card... but my freedom I will never sell. + Why do I prize it so highly? What is there in it to me? For what am I + preparing myself? What do I hope for from the future?... In truth, + absolutely nothing. It is a kind of innate dread, an inexplicable + prejudice... There are people, you know, who have an unaccountable dread + of spiders, beetles, mice... Shall I confess it? When I was but a child, a + certain old woman told my fortune to my mother. She predicted for me death + from a wicked wife. I was profoundly struck by her words at the time: an + irresistible repugnance to marriage was born within my soul... Meanwhile, + something tells me that her prediction will be realized; I will try, at + all events, to arrange that it shall be realized as late in life as + possible. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. 26th June. + </h2> + <p> + YESTERDAY, the conjurer Apfelbaum arrived here. A long placard made its + appearance on the door of the restaurant, informing the most respected + public that the above-mentioned marvellous conjurer, acrobat, chemist, and + optician would have the honour to give a magnificent performance on the + present day at eight o’clock in the evening, in the saloon of the Nobles’ + Club (in other words, the restaurant); tickets—two rubles and a half + each. + </p> + <p> + Everyone intends to go and see the marvellous conjurer; even Princess + Ligovski has taken a ticket for herself, in spite of her daughter being + ill. + </p> + <p> + After dinner to-day, I walked past Vera’s windows; she was sitting by + herself on the balcony. A note fell at my feet: + </p> + <p> + “Come to me at ten o’clock this evening by the large staircase. My husband + has gone to Pyatigorsk and will not return before to-morrow morning. My + servants and maids will not be at home; I have distributed tickets to all + of them, and to the princess’s servants as well. I await you; come without + fail.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” I said to myself, “so then it has turned out at last as I thought + it would.” + </p> + <p> + At eight o’clock I went to see the conjurer. The public assembled before + the stroke of nine. The performance began. On the back rows of chairs I + recognized Vera’s and Princess Ligovski’s menservants and maids. They were + all there, every single one. Grushnitski, with his lorgnette, was sitting + in the front row, and the conjurer had recourse to him every time he + needed a handkerchief, a watch, a ring and so forth. + </p> + <p> + For some time past, Grushnitski has ceased to bow to me, and to-day he has + looked at me rather insolently once or twice. It will all be remembered to + him when we come to settle our scores. + </p> + <p> + Before ten o’clock had struck, I stood up and went out. + </p> + <p> + It was dark outside, pitch dark. Cold, heavy clouds were lying on the + summit of the surrounding mountains, and only at rare intervals did the + dying breeze rustle the tops of the poplars which surrounded the + restaurant. People were crowding at the windows. I went down the mountain + and, turning in under the gate, I hastened my pace. Suddenly it seemed to + me that somebody was following my steps. I stopped and looked round. It + was impossible to make out anything in the darkness. However, out of + caution, I walked round the house, as if taking a stroll. Passing Princess + Mary’s windows, I again heard steps behind me; a man wrapped in a cloak + ran by me. That rendered me uneasy, but I crept up to the flight of steps, + and hastily mounted the dark staircase. A door opened, and a little hand + seized mine... + </p> + <p> + “Nobody has seen you?” said Vera in a whisper, clinging to me. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody.” + </p> + <p> + “Now do you believe that I love you? Oh! I have long hesitated, long + tortured myself... But you can do anything you like with me.” + </p> + <p> + Her heart was beating violently, her hands were cold as ice. She broke out + into complaints and jealous reproaches. She demanded that I should confess + everything to her, saying that she would bear my faithlessness with + submission, because her sole desire was that I should be happy. I did not + quite believe that, but I calmed her with oaths, promises and so on. + </p> + <p> + “So you will not marry Mary? You do not love her?... But she thinks... Do + you know, she is madly in love with you, poor girl!”... + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + About two o’clock in the morning I opened the window and, tying two shawls + together, I let myself down from the upper balcony to the lower, holding + on by the pillar. A light was still burning in Princess Mary’s room. + Something drew me towards that window. The curtain was not quite drawn, + and I was able to cast a curious glance into the interior of the room. + Mary was sitting on her bed, her hands crossed upon her knees; her thick + hair was gathered up under a lace-frilled nightcap; her white shoulders + were covered by a large crimson kerchief, and her little feet were hidden + in a pair of many-coloured Persian slippers. She was sitting quite still, + her head sunk upon her breast; on a little table in front of her was an + open book; but her eyes, fixed and full of inexpressible grief, seemed for + the hundredth time to be skimming the same page whilst her thoughts were + far away. + </p> + <p> + At that moment somebody stirred behind a shrub. I leaped from the balcony + on to the sward. An invisible hand seized me by the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” said a rough voice: “caught!... I’ll teach you to be entering + princesses’ rooms at night!” + </p> + <p> + “Hold him fast!” exclaimed another, springing out from a corner. + </p> + <p> + It was Grushnitski and the captain of dragoons. + </p> + <p> + I struck the latter on the head with my fist, knocked him off his feet, + and darted into the bushes. All the paths of the garden which covered the + slope opposite our houses were known to me. + </p> + <p> + “Thieves, guard!”... they cried. + </p> + <p> + A gunshot rang out; a smoking wad fell almost at my feet. + </p> + <p> + Within a minute I was in my own room, undressed and in bed. My manservant + had only just locked the door when Grushnitski and the captain began + knocking for admission. + </p> + <p> + “Pechorin! Are you asleep? Are you there?”... cried the captain. + </p> + <p> + “I am in bed,” I answered angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Get up! Thieves!... Circassians!”... + </p> + <p> + “I have a cold,” I answered. “I am afraid of catching a chill.” + </p> + <p> + They went away. I had gained no useful purpose by answering them: they + would have been looking for me in the garden for another hour or so. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the alarm became terrific. A Cossack galloped up from the + fortress. The commotion was general; Circassians were looked for in every + shrub—and of course none were found. Probably, however, a good many + people were left with the firm conviction that, if only more courage and + despatch had been shown by the garrison, at least a score of brigands + would have failed to get away with their lives. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. 27th June. + </h2> + <p> + THIS morning, at the well, the sole topic of conversation was the + nocturnal attack by the Circassians. I drank the appointed number of + glasses of Narzan water, and, after sauntering a few times about the long + linden avenue, I met Vera’s husband, who had just arrived from Pyatigorsk. + He took my arm and we went to the restaurant for breakfast. He was + dreadfully uneasy about his wife. + </p> + <p> + “What a terrible fright she had last night,” he said. “Of course, it was + bound to happen just at the very time when I was absent.” + </p> + <p> + We sat down to breakfast near the door leading into a corner-room in which + about a dozen young men were sitting. Grushnitski was amongst them. For + the second time destiny provided me with the opportunity of overhearing a + conversation which was to decide his fate. He did not see me, and, + consequently, it was impossible for me to suspect him of design; but that + only magnified his fault in my eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible, though, that they were really Circassians?” somebody + said. “Did anyone see them?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you the whole truth,” answered Grushnitski: “only please do + not betray me. This is how it was: yesterday, a certain man, whose name I + will not tell you, came up to me and told me that, at ten o’clock in the + evening, he had seen somebody creeping into the Ligovskis’ house. I must + observe that Princess Ligovski was here, and Princess Mary at home. So he + and I set off to wait beneath the windows and waylay the lucky man.” + </p> + <p> + I confess I was frightened, although my companion was very busily engaged + with his breakfast: he might have heard things which he would have found + rather displeasing, if Grushnitski had happened to guess the truth; but, + blinded by jealousy, the latter did not even suspect it. + </p> + <p> + “So, do you see?” Grushnitski continued. “We set off, taking with us a + gun, loaded with blank cartridge, so as just to give him a fright. We + waited in the garden till two o’clock. At length—goodness knows, + indeed, where he appeared from, but he must have come out by the glass + door which is behind the pillar; it was not out of the window that he + came, because the window had remained unopened—at length, I say, we + saw someone getting down from the balcony... What do you think of Princess + Mary—eh? Well, I admit, it is hardly what you might expect from + Moscow ladies! After that what can you believe? We were going to seize + him, but he broke away and darted like a hare into the shrubs. Thereupon I + fired at him.” + </p> + <p> + There was a general murmur of incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “You do not believe it?” he continued. “I give you my word of honour as a + gentleman that it is all perfectly true, and, in proof, I will tell you + the man’s name if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell us, tell us, who was he?” came from all sides. + </p> + <p> + “Pechorin,” answered Grushnitski. + </p> + <p> + At that moment he raised his eyes—I was standing in the doorway + opposite to him. He grew terribly red. I went up to him and said, slowly + and distinctly: + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry that I did not come in before you had given your word of + honour in confirmation of a most abominable calumny: my presence would + have saved you from that further act of baseness.” + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski jumped up from his seat and seemed about to fly into a + passion. + </p> + <p> + “I beg you,” I continued in the same tone: “I beg you at once to retract + what you have said; you know very well that it is all an invention. I do + not think that a woman’s indifference to your brilliant merits should + deserve so terrible a revenge. Bethink you well: if you maintain your + present attitude, you will lose the right to the name of gentleman and + will risk your life.” + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski stood before me in violent agitation, his eyes cast down. But + the struggle between his conscience and his vanity was of short duration. + The captain of dragoons, who was sitting beside him, nudged him with his + elbow. Grushnitski started, and answered rapidly, without raising his + eyes: + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir, what I say, I mean, and I am prepared to repeat... I am not + afraid of your menaces and am ready for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “The latter you have already proved,” I answered coldly; and, taking the + captain of dragoons by the arm, I left the room. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” asked the captain. + </p> + <p> + “You are Grushnitski’s friend and will no doubt be his second?” + </p> + <p> + The captain bowed very gravely. + </p> + <p> + “You have guessed rightly,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Moreover, I am bound to be his second, because the insult offered to him + touches myself also. I was with him last night,” he added, straightening + up his stooping figure. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! So it was you whose head I struck so clumsily?”... + </p> + <p> + He turned yellow in the face, then blue; suppressed rage was portrayed + upon his countenance. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have the honour to send my second to you to-day,” I added, bowing + adieu to him very politely, without appearing to have noticed his fury. + </p> + <p> + On the restaurant-steps I met Vera’s husband. Apparently he had been + waiting for me. + </p> + <p> + He seized my hand with a feeling akin to rapture. + </p> + <p> + “Noble young man!” he said, with tears in his eyes. “I have heard + everything. What a scoundrel! Ingrate!... Just fancy such people being + admitted into a decent household after this! Thank God I have no + daughters! But she for whom you are risking your life will reward you. Be + assured of my constant discretion,” he continued. “I have been young + myself and have served in the army: I know that these affairs must take + their course. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + Poor fellow! He is glad that he has no daughters!... + </p> + <p> + I went straight to Werner, found him at home, and told him the whole story—my + relations with Vera and Princess Mary, and the conversation which I had + overheard and from which I had learned the intention of these gentlemen to + make a fool of me by causing me to fight a duel with blank cartridges. + But, now, the affair had gone beyond the bounds of jest; they probably had + not expected that it would turn out like this. + </p> + <p> + The doctor consented to be my second; I gave him a few directions with + regard to the conditions of the duel. He was to insist upon the affair + being managed with all possible secrecy, because, although I am prepared, + at any moment, to face death, I am not in the least disposed to spoil for + all time my future in this world. + </p> + <p> + After that I went home. In an hour’s time the doctor returned from his + expedition. + </p> + <p> + “There is indeed a conspiracy against you,” he said. “I found the captain + of dragoons at Grushnitski’s, together with another gentleman whose + surname I do not remember. I stopped a moment in the ante-room, in order + to take off my goloshes. They were squabbling and making a terrible + uproar. ‘On no account will I agree,’ Grushnitski was saying: ‘he has + insulted me publicly; it was quite a different thing before’... + </p> + <p> + “‘What does it matter to you?’ answered the captain. ‘I will take it all + upon myself. I have been second in five duels, and I should think I know + how to arrange the affair. I have thought it all out. Just let me alone, + please. It is not a bad thing to give people a bit of a fright. And why + expose yourself to danger if it is possible to avoid it?’... + </p> + <p> + “At that moment I entered the room. They suddenly fell silent. Our + negotiations were somewhat protracted. At length we decided the matter as + follows: about five versts from here there is a hollow gorge; they will + ride thither tomorrow at four o’clock in the morning, and we shall leave + half an hour later. You will fire at six paces—Grushnitski himself + demanded that condition. Whichever of you is killed—his death will + be put down to the account of the Circassians. And now I must tell you + what I suspect: they, that is to say the seconds, may have made some + change in their former plan and may want to load only Grushnitski’s + pistol. That is something like murder, but in time of war, and especially + in Asiatic warfare, such tricks are allowed. Grushnitski, however, seems + to be a little more magnanimous than his companions. What do you think? + Ought we not to let them see that we have guessed their plan?” + </p> + <p> + “Not on any account, doctor! Make your mind easy; I will not give in to + them.” + </p> + <p> + “But what are you going to do, then?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Mind you are not caught... six paces, you know!” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, I shall expect you to-morrow at four o’clock. The horses will be + ready... Goodbye.” + </p> + <p> + I remained in the house until the evening, with my door locked. A + manservant came to invite me to Princess Ligovski’s—I bade him say + that I was ill. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Two o’clock in the morning... I cannot sleep... Yet sleep is what I need, + if I am to have a steady hand to-morrow. However, at six paces it is + difficult to miss. Aha! Mr. Grushnitski, your wiles will not succeed!... + We shall exchange roles: now it is I who shall have to seek the signs of + latent terror upon your pallid countenance. Why have you yourself + appointed these fatal six paces? Think you that I will tamely expose my + forehead to your aim?... + </p> + <p> + No, we shall cast lots... And then—then—what if his luck + should prevail? If my star at length should betray me?... And little + wonder if it did: it has so long and faithfully served my caprices. + </p> + <p> + Well? If I must die, I must! The loss to the world will not be great; and + I myself am already downright weary of everything. I am like a guest at a + ball, who yawns but does not go home to bed, simply because his carriage + has not come for him. But now the carriage is here... Good-bye!... + </p> + <p> + My whole past life I live again in memory, and, involuntarily, I ask + myself: ‘why have I lived—for what purpose was I born?’... A purpose + there must have been, and, surely, mine was an exalted destiny, because I + feel that within my soul are powers immeasurable... But I was not able to + discover that destiny, I allowed myself to be carried away by the + allurements of passions, inane and ignoble. From their crucible I issued + hard and cold as iron, but gone for ever was the glow of noble aspirations—the + fairest flower of life. And, from that time forth, how often have I not + played the part of an axe in the hands of fate! Like an implement of + punishment, I have fallen upon the head of doomed victims, often without + malice, always without pity... To none has my love brought happiness, + because I have never sacrificed anything for the sake of those I have + loved: for myself alone I have loved—for my own pleasure. I have + only satisfied the strange craving of my heart, greedily draining their + feelings, their tenderness, their joys, their sufferings—and I have + never been able to sate myself. I am like one who, spent with hunger, + falls asleep in exhaustion and sees before him sumptuous viands and + sparkling wines; he devours with rapture the aerial gifts of the + imagination, and his pains seem somewhat assuaged. Let him but awake: the + vision vanishes—twofold hunger and despair remain! + </p> + <p> + And to-morrow, it may be, I shall die!... And there will not be left on + earth one being who has understood me completely. Some will consider me + worse, others, better, than I have been in reality... Some will say: ‘he + was a good fellow’; others: ‘a villain.’ And both epithets will be false. + After all this, is life worth the trouble? And yet we live—out of + curiosity! We expect something new... How absurd, and yet how vexatious! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + IT is now a month and a half since I have been in the N——Fortress. + </p> + <p> + Maksim Maksimych is out hunting... I am alone. I am sitting by the window. + Grey clouds have covered the mountains to the foot; the sun appears + through the mist as a yellow spot. It is cold; the wind is whistling and + rocking the shutters... I am bored!... I will continue my diary which has + been interrupted by so many strange events. + </p> + <p> + I read the last page over: how ridiculous it seems!... I thought to die; + it was not to be. I have not yet drained the cup of suffering, and now I + feel that I still have long to live. + </p> + <p> + How clearly and how sharply have all these bygone events been stamped upon + my memory! Time has not effaced a single line, a single shade. + </p> + <p> + I remember that during the night preceding the duel I did not sleep a + single moment. I was not able to write for long: a secret uneasiness took + possession of me. For about an hour I paced the room, then I sat down and + opened a novel by Walter Scott which was lying on my table. It was “The + Scottish Puritans.” <a href="#linknote-301" name="linknoteref-301" + id="linknoteref-301"><small>301</small></a> At first I read with an + effort; then, carried away by the magical fiction, I became oblivious of + everything else. + </p> + <p> + At last day broke. My nerves became composed. I looked in the glass: a + dull pallor covered my face, which preserved the traces of harassing + sleeplessness; but my eyes, although encircled by a brownish shadow, + glittered proudly and inexorably. I was satisfied with myself. + </p> + <p> + I ordered the horses to be saddled, dressed myself, and ran down to the + baths. Plunging into the cold, sparkling water of the Narzan Spring, I + felt my bodily and mental powers returning. I left the baths as fresh and + hearty as if I was off to a ball. After that, who shall say that the soul + is not dependent upon the body!... + </p> + <p> + On my return, I found the doctor at my rooms. He was wearing grey + riding-breeches, a jacket and a Circassian cap. I burst out laughing when + I saw that little figure under the enormous shaggy cap. Werner has a by no + means warlike countenance, and on that occasion it was even longer than + usual. + </p> + <p> + “Why so sad, doctor?” I said to him. “Have you not a hundred times, with + the greatest indifference, escorted people to the other world? Imagine + that I have a bilious fever: I may get well; also, I may die; both are in + the usual course of things. Try to look on me as a patient, afflicted with + an illness with which you are still unfamiliar—and then your + curiosity will be aroused in the highest degree. You can now make a few + important physiological observations upon me... Is not the expectation of + a violent death itself a real illness?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor was struck by that idea, and he brightened up. + </p> + <p> + We mounted our horses. Werner clung on to his bridle with both hands, and + we set off. In a trice we had galloped past the fortress, through the + village, and had ridden into the gorge. Our winding road was + half-overgrown with tall grass and was intersected every moment by a noisy + brook, which we had to ford, to the great despair of the doctor, because + each time his horse would stop in the water. + </p> + <p> + A morning more fresh and blue I cannot remember! The sun had scarce shown + his face from behind the green summits, and the blending of the first + warmth of his rays with the dying coolness of the night produced on all my + feelings a sort of sweet languor. The joyous beam of the young day had not + yet penetrated the gorge; it gilded only the tops of the cliffs which + overhung us on both sides. The tufted shrubs, growing in the deep crevices + of the cliffs, besprinkled us with a silver shower at the least breath of + wind. I remember that on that occasion I loved Nature more than ever + before. With what curiosity did I examine every dewdrop trembling upon the + broad vine leaf and reflecting millions of rainbowhued rays! How eagerly + did my glance endeavour to penetrate the smoky distance! There the road + grew narrower and narrower, the cliffs bluer and more dreadful, and at + last they met, it seemed, in an impenetrable wall. + </p> + <p> + We rode in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Have you made your will?” Werner suddenly inquired. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you are killed?” + </p> + <p> + “My heirs will be found of themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible that you have no friends, to whom you would like to send a + last farewell?”... + </p> + <p> + I shook my head. + </p> + <p> + “Is there, really, not one woman in the world to whom you would like to + leave some token in remembrance?”... + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me to reveal my soul to you, doctor?” I answered... “You see, + I have outlived the years when people die with the name of the beloved on + their lips and bequeathing to a friend a lock of pomaded—or + unpomaded—hair. When I think that death may be near, I think of + myself alone; others do not even do as much. The friends who to-morrow + will forget me or, worse, will utter goodness knows what falsehoods about + me; the women who, while embracing another, will laugh at me in order not + to arouse his jealousy of the deceased—let them go! Out of the storm + of life I have borne away only a few ideas—and not one feeling. For + a long time now I have been living, not with my heart, but with my head. I + weigh, analyse my own passions and actions with severe curiosity, but + without sympathy. There are two personalities within me: one lives—in + the complete sense of the word—the other reflects and judges him; + the first, it may be, in an hour’s time, will take farewell of you and the + world for ever, and the second—the second?... Look, doctor, do you + see those three black figures on the cliff, to the right? They are our + antagonists, I suppose?”... + </p> + <p> + We pushed on. + </p> + <p> + In the bushes at the foot of the cliff three horses were tethered; we + tethered ours there too, and then we clambered up the narrow path to the + ledge on which Grushnitski was awaiting us in company with the captain of + dragoons and his other second, whom they called Ivan Ignatevich. His + surname I never heard. + </p> + <p> + “We have been expecting you for quite a long time,” said the captain of + dragoons, with an ironical smile. + </p> + <p> + I drew out my watch and showed him the time. + </p> + <p> + He apologized, saying that his watch was fast. + </p> + <p> + There was an embarrassing silence for a few moments. At length the doctor + interrupted it. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” he said, turning to Grushnitski, “that as you have both + shown your readiness to fight, and thereby paid the debt due to the + conditions of honour, you might be able to come to an explanation and + finish the affair amicably.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready,” I said. + </p> + <p> + The captain winked to Grushnitski, and the latter, thinking that I was + losing courage, assumed a haughty air, although, until that moment, his + cheeks had been covered with a dull pallor. For the first time since our + arrival he lifted his eyes on me; but in his glance there was a certain + disquietude which evinced an inward struggle. + </p> + <p> + “Declare your conditions,” he said, “and anything I can do for you, be + assured”... + </p> + <p> + “These are my conditions: you will this very day publicly recant your + slander and beg my pardon”... + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir, I wonder how you dare make such a proposal to me?” + </p> + <p> + “What else could I propose?”... + </p> + <p> + “We will fight.” + </p> + <p> + I shrugged my shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Be it so; only, bethink you that one of us will infallibly be killed.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope it will be you”... + </p> + <p> + “And I am so convinced of the contrary”... + </p> + <p> + He became confused, turned red, and then burst out into a forced laugh. + </p> + <p> + The captain took his arm and led him aside; they whispered together for a + long time. I had arrived in a fairly pacific frame of mind, but all this + was beginning to drive me furious. + </p> + <p> + The doctor came up to me. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said, with manifest uneasiness, “you have surely forgotten + their conspiracy!... I do not know how to load a pistol, but in this + case... You are a strange man! Tell them that you know their intention—and + they will not dare... What sport! To shoot you like a bird”... + </p> + <p> + “Please do not be uneasy, doctor, and wait awhile... I shall arrange + everything in such a way that there will be no advantage on their side. + Let them whisper”... + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, this is becoming tedious,” I said to them loudly: “if we are + to fight, let us fight; you had time yesterday to talk as much as you + wanted to.” + </p> + <p> + “We are ready,” answered the captain. “Take your places, gentlemen! + Doctor, be good enough to measure six paces”... + </p> + <p> + “Take your places!” repeated Ivan Ignatevich, in a squeaky voice. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me!” I said. “One further condition. As we are going to fight to + the death, we are bound to do everything possible in order that the affair + may remain a secret, and that our seconds may incur no responsibility. Do + you agree?”... + </p> + <p> + “Quite.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, this is my idea. Do you see that narrow ledge on the top of + the perpendicular cliff on the right? It must be thirty fathoms, if not + more, from there to the bottom; and, down below, there are sharp rocks. + Each of us will stand right at the extremity of the ledge—in such + manner even a slight wound will be mortal: that ought to be in accordance + with your desire, as you yourselves have fixed upon six paces. Whichever + of us is wounded will be certain to fall down and be dashed to pieces; the + doctor will extract the bullet, and, then, it will be possible very easily + to account for that sudden death by saying it was the result of a fall. + Let us cast lots to decide who shall fire first. In conclusion, I declare + that I will not fight on any other terms.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so!” said the captain after an expressive glance at Grushnitski, + who nodded his head in token of assent. Every moment he was changing + countenance. I had placed him in an embarrassing position. Had the duel + been fought upon the usual conditions, he could have aimed at my leg, + wounded me slightly, and in such wise gratified his vengeance without + overburdening his conscience. But now he was obliged to fire in the air, + or to make himself an assassin, or, finally, to abandon his base plan and + to expose himself to equal danger with me. I should not have liked to be + in his place at that moment. He took the captain aside and said something + to him with great warmth. His lips were blue, and I saw them trembling; + but the captain turned away from him with a contemptuous smile. + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool,” he said to Grushnitski rather loudly. “You can’t + understand a thing!... Let us be off, then, gentlemen!” + </p> + <p> + The precipice was approached by a narrow path between bushes, and + fragments of rock formed the precarious steps of that natural staircase. + Clinging to the bushes we proceeded to clamber up. Grushnitski went in + front, his seconds behind him, and then the doctor and I. + </p> + <p> + “I am surprised at you,” said the doctor, pressing my hand vigorously. + “Let me feel your pulse!... Oho! Feverish!... But nothing noticeable on + your countenance... only your eyes are gleaming more brightly than usual.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly small stones rolled noisily right under our feet. What was it? + Grushnitski had stumbled; the branch to which he was clinging had broken + off, and he would have rolled down on his back if his seconds had not held + him up. + </p> + <p> + “Take care!” I cried. “Do not fall prematurely: that is a bad sign. + Remember Julius Caesar!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + AND now we had climbed to the summit of the projecting cliff. The ledge + was covered with fine sand, as if on purpose for a duel. All around, like + an innumerable herd, crowded the mountains, their summits lost to view in + the golden mist of the morning; and towards the south rose the white mass + of Elbruz, closing the chain of icy peaks, among which fibrous clouds, + which had rushed in from the east, were already roaming. I walked to the + extremity of the ledge and gazed down. My head nearly swam. At the foot of + the precipice all seemed dark and cold as in a tomb; the moss-grown jags + of the rocks, hurled down by storm and time, were awaiting their prey. + </p> + <p> + The ledge on which we were to fight formed an almost regular triangle. Six + paces were measured from the projecting corner, and it was decided that + whichever had first to meet the fire of his opponent should stand in the + very corner with his back to the precipice; if he was not killed the + adversaries would change places. + </p> + <p> + I determined to relinquish every advantage to Grushnitski; I wanted to + test him. A spark of magnanimity might awake in his soul—and then + all would have been settled for the best. But his vanity and weakness of + character had perforce to triumph!... I wished to give myself the full + right to refrain from sparing him if destiny were to favour me. Who would + not have concluded such an agreement with his conscience? + </p> + <p> + “Cast the lot, doctor!” said the captain. + </p> + <p> + The doctor drew a silver coin from his pocket and held it up. + </p> + <p> + “Tail!” cried Grushnitski hurriedly, like a man suddenly aroused by a + friendly nudge. + </p> + <p> + “Head,” I said. + </p> + <p> + The coin spun in the air and fell, jingling. We all rushed towards it. + </p> + <p> + “You are lucky,” I said to Grushnitski. “You are to fire first! But + remember that if you do not kill me I shall not miss—I give you my + word of honour.” + </p> + <p> + He flushed up; he was ashamed to kill an unarmed man. I looked at him + fixedly; for a moment it seemed to me that he would throw himself at my + feet, imploring forgiveness; but how to confess so base a plot?... One + expedient only was left to him—to fire in the air! I was convinced + that he would fire in the air! One consideration alone might prevent him + doing so—the thought that I would demand a second duel. + </p> + <p> + “Now is the time!” the doctor whispered to me, plucking me by the sleeve. + “If you do not tell them now that we know their intentions, all is lost. + Look, he is loading already... If you will not say anything, I will”... + </p> + <p> + “On no account, doctor!” I answered, holding him back by the arm. “You + will spoil everything. You have given me your word not to interfere... + What does it matter to you? Perhaps I wish to be killed”... + </p> + <p> + He looked at me in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is another thing!... Only do not complain of me in the other + world”... + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the captain had loaded his pistols and given one to Grushnitski, + after whispering something to him with a smile; the other he gave to me. + </p> + <p> + I placed myself in the corner of the ledge, planting my left foot firmly + against the rock and bending slightly forward, so that, in case of a + slight wound, I might not fall over backwards. + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski placed himself opposite me and, at a given signal, began to + raise his pistol. His knees shook. He aimed right at my forehead... + Unutterable fury began to seethe within my breast. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he dropped the muzzle of the pistol and, pale as a sheet, turned + to his second. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” he said in a hollow voice. + </p> + <p> + “Coward!” answered the captain. + </p> + <p> + A shot rang out. The bullet grazed my knee. Involuntarily I took a few + paces forward in order to get away from the edge as quickly as possible. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Grushnitski, it is a pity that you have missed!” said the + captain. “Now it is your turn, take your stand! Embrace me first: we shall + not see each other again!” + </p> + <p> + They embraced; the captain could scarcely refrain from laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be afraid,” he added, glancing cunningly at Grushnitski; + “everything in this world is nonsense... Nature is a fool, fate a + turkeyhen, and life a copeck!” <a href="#linknote-31" name="linknoteref-31" + id="linknoteref-31"><small>31</small></a> + </p> + <p> + After that tragic phrase, uttered with becoming gravity, he went back to + his place. Ivan Ignatevich, with tears, also embraced Grushnitski, and + there the latter remained alone, facing me. Ever since then, I have been + trying to explain to myself what sort of feeling it was that was boiling + within my breast at that moment: it was the vexation of injured vanity, + and contempt, and wrath engendered at the thought that the man now looking + at me with such confidence, such quiet insolence, had, two minutes before, + been about to kill me like a dog, without exposing himself to the least + danger, because had I been wounded a little more severely in the leg I + should inevitably have fallen over the cliff. + </p> + <p> + For a few moments I looked him fixedly in the face, trying to discern + thereon even a slight trace of repentance. But it seemed to me that he was + restraining a smile. + </p> + <p> + “I should advise you to say a prayer before you die,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Do not worry about my soul any more than your own. One thing I beg of + you: be quick about firing.” + </p> + <p> + “And you do not recant your slander? You do not beg my forgiveness?... + Bethink you well: has your conscience nothing to say to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pechorin!” exclaimed the captain of dragoons. “Allow me to point out + that you are not here to preach... Let us lose no time, in case anyone + should ride through the gorge and we should be seen.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Doctor, come here!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor came up to me. Poor doctor! He was paler than Grushnitski had + been ten minutes before. + </p> + <p> + The words which followed I purposely pronounced with a pause between each—loudly + and distinctly, as the sentence of death is pronounced: + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, these gentlemen have forgotten, in their hurry, no doubt, to put + a bullet in my pistol. I beg you to load it afresh—and properly!” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” cried the captain, “impossible! I loaded both pistols. + Perhaps the bullet has rolled out of yours... That is not my fault! And + you have no right to load again... No right at all. It is altogether + against the rules, I shall not allow it”... + </p> + <p> + “Very well!” I said to the captain. “If so, then you and I shall fight on + the same terms”... + </p> + <p> + He came to a dead stop. + </p> + <p> + Grushnitski stood with his head sunk on his breast, embarrassed and + gloomy. + </p> + <p> + “Let them be!” he said at length to the captain, who was going to pull my + pistol out of the doctor’s hands. “You know yourself that they are right.” + </p> + <p> + In vain the captain made various signs to him. Grushnitski would not even + look. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the doctor had loaded the pistol and handed it to me. On seeing + that, the captain spat and stamped his foot. + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool, then, my friend,” he said: “a common fool!... You trusted + to me before, so you should obey me in everything now... But serve you + right! Die like a fly!”... + </p> + <p> + He turned away, muttering as he went: + </p> + <p> + “But all the same it is absolutely against the rules.” + </p> + <p> + “Grushnitski!” I said. “There is still time: recant your slander, and I + will forgive you everything. You have not succeeded in making a fool of + me; my self-esteem is satisfied. Remember—we were once friends”... + </p> + <p> + His face flamed, his eyes flashed. + </p> + <p> + “Fire!” he answered. “I despise myself and I hate you. If you do not kill + me I will lie in wait for you some night and cut your throat. There is not + room on the earth for both of us”... + </p> + <p> + I fired. + </p> + <p> + When the smoke had cleared away, Grushnitski was not to be seen on the + ledge. Only a slender column of dust was still eddying at the edge of the + precipice. + </p> + <p> + There was a simultaneous cry from the rest. + </p> + <p> + “Finita la commedia!” I said to the doctor. + </p> + <p> + He made no answer, and turned away with horror. + </p> + <p> + I shrugged my shoulders and bowed to Grushnitski’s seconds. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + AS I descended by the path, I observed Grushnitski’s bloodstained corpse + between the clefts of the rocks. Involuntarily, I closed my eyes. + </p> + <p> + Untying my horse, I set off home at a walking pace. A stone lay upon my + heart. To my eyes the sun seemed dim, its beams were powerless to warm me. + </p> + <p> + I did not ride up to the village, but turned to the right, along the + gorge. The sight of a man would have been painful to me: I wanted to be + alone. Throwing down the bridle and letting my head fall on my breast, I + rode for a long time, and at length found myself in a spot with which I + was wholly unfamiliar. I turned my horse back and began to search for the + road. The sun had already set by the time I had ridden up to Kislovodsk—myself + and my horse both utterly spent! + </p> + <p> + My servant told me that Werner had called, and he handed me two notes: one + from Werner, the other... from Vera. + </p> + <p> + I opened the first; its contents were as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Everything has been arranged as well as could be; the mutilated body has + been brought in; and the bullet extracted from the breast. Everybody is + convinced that the cause of death was an unfortunate accident; only the + Commandant, who was doubtless aware of your quarrel, shook his head, but + he said nothing. There are no proofs at all against you, and you may sleep + in peace... if you can.... Farewell!”... + </p> + <p> + For a long time I could not make up my mind to open the second note... + What could it be that she was writing to me?... My soul was agitated by a + painful foreboding. + </p> + <p> + Here it is, that letter, each word of which is indelibly engraved upon my + memory: + </p> + <p> + “I am writing to you in the full assurance that we shall never see each + other again. A few years ago on parting with you I thought the same. + However, it has been Heaven’s will to try me a second time: I have not + been able to endure the trial, my frail heart has again submitted to the + well-known voice... You will not despise me for that—will you? This + letter will be at once a farewell and a confession: I am obliged to tell + you everything that has been treasured up in my heart since it began to + love you. I will not accuse you—you have acted towards me as any + other man would have acted; you have loved me as a chattel, as a source of + joys, disquietudes and griefs, interchanging one with the other, without + which life would be dull and monotonous. I have understood all that from + the first... But you were unhappy, and I have sacrificed myself, hoping + that, some time, you would appreciate my sacrifice, that some time you + would understand my deep tenderness, unfettered by any conditions. A long + time has elapsed since then: I have fathomed all the secrets of your + soul... and I have convinced myself that my hope was vain. It has been a + bitter blow to me! But my love has been grafted with my soul; it has grown + dark, but has not been extinguished. + </p> + <p> + “We are parting for ever; yet you may be sure that I shall never love + another. Upon you my soul has exhausted all its treasures, its tears, its + hopes. She who has once loved you cannot look without a certain disdain + upon other men, not because you have been better than they, oh, no! but in + your nature there is something peculiar—belonging to you alone, + something proud and mysterious; in your voice, whatever the words spoken, + there is an invincible power. No one can so constantly wish to be loved, + in no one is wickedness ever so attractive, no one’s glance promises so + much bliss, no one can better make use of his advantages, and no one can + be so truly unhappy as you, because no one endeavours so earnestly to + convince himself of the contrary. + </p> + <p> + “Now I must explain the cause of my hurried departure; it will seem of + little importance to you, because it concerns me alone. + </p> + <p> + “This morning my husband came in and told me about your quarrel with + Grushnitski. Evidently I changed countenance greatly, because he looked me + in the face long and intently. I almost fainted at the thought that you + had to fight a duel to-day, and that I was the cause of it; it seemed to + me that I should go mad... But now, when I am able to reason, I am sure + that you remain alive: it is impossible that you should die, and I not + with you—impossible! My husband walked about the room for a long + time. I do not know what he said to me, I do not remember what I + answered... Most likely I told him that I loved you... I only remember + that, at the end of our conversation, he insulted me with a dreadful word + and left the room. I heard him ordering the carriage... I have been + sitting at the window three hours now, awaiting your return... But you are + alive, you cannot have died!... The carriage is almost ready... Good-bye, + good-bye!... I have perished—but what matter? If I could be sure + that you will always remember me—I no longer say love—no, only + remember... Good-bye, they are coming!... I must hide this letter. + </p> + <p> + “You do not love Mary, do you? You will not marry her? Listen, you must + offer me that sacrifice. I have lost everything in the world for you”... + </p> + <p> + Like a madman I sprang on the steps, jumped on my Circassian horse which + was being led about the courtyard, and set off at full gallop along the + road to Pyatigorsk. Unsparingly I urged on the jaded horse, which, + snorting and all in a foam, carried me swiftly along the rocky road. + </p> + <p> + The sun had already disappeared behind a black cloud, which had been + resting on the ridge of the western mountains; the gorge grew dark and + damp. The Podkumok, forcing its way over the rocks, roared with a hollow + and monotonous sound. I galloped on, choking with impatience. The idea of + not finding Vera in Pyatigorsk struck my heart like a hammer. For one + minute, again to see her for one minute, to say farewell, to press her + hand... I prayed, cursed, wept, laughed... No, nothing could express my + anxiety, my despair!... Now that it seemed possible that I might be about + to lose her for ever, Vera became dearer to me than aught in the world—dearer + than life, honour, happiness! God knows what strange, what mad plans + swarmed in my head... Meanwhile I still galloped, urging on my horse + without pity. And, now, I began to notice that he was breathing more + heavily; he had already stumbled once or twice on level ground... I was + five versts from Essentuki—a Cossack village where I could change + horses. + </p> + <p> + All would have been saved had my horse been able to hold out for another + ten minutes. But suddenly, in lifting himself out of a little gulley where + the road emerges from the mountains at a sharp turn, he fell to the + ground. I jumped down promptly, I tried to lift him up, I tugged at his + bridle—in vain. A scarcely audible moan burst through his clenched + teeth; in a few moments he expired. I was left on the steppe, alone; I had + lost my last hope. I endeavoured to walk—my legs sank under me; + exhausted by the anxieties of the day and by sleeplessness, I fell upon + the wet grass and burst out crying like a child. + </p> + <p> + For a long time I lay motionless and wept bitterly, without attempting to + restrain my tears and sobs. I thought my breast would burst. All my + firmness, all my coolness, disappeared like smoke; my soul grew powerless, + my reason silent, and, if anyone had seen me at that moment, he would have + turned aside with contempt. + </p> + <p> + When the night-dew and the mountain breeze had cooled my burning brow, and + my thoughts had resumed their usual course, I realized that to pursue my + perished happiness would be unavailing and unreasonable. What more did I + want?—To see her?—Why? Was not all over between us? A single, + bitter, farewell kiss would not have enriched my recollections, and, after + it, parting would only have been more difficult for us. + </p> + <p> + Still, I am pleased that I can weep. Perhaps, however, the cause of that + was my shattered nerves, a night passed without sleep, two minutes + opposite the muzzle of a pistol, and an empty stomach. + </p> + <p> + It is all for the best. That new suffering created within me a fortunate + diversion—to speak in military style. To weep is healthy, and then, + no doubt, if I had not ridden as I did and had not been obliged to walk + fifteen versts on my way back, sleep would not have closed my eyes on that + night either. + </p> + <p> + I returned to Kislovodsk at five o’clock in the morning, threw myself on + my bed, and slept the sleep of Napoleon after Waterloo. + </p> + <p> + By the time I awoke it was dark outside. I sat by the open window, with my + jacket unbuttoned—and the mountain breeze cooled my breast, still + troubled by the heavy sleep of weariness. In the distance beyond the + river, through the tops of the thick lime trees which overshadowed it, + lights were glancing in the fortress and the village. Close at hand all + was calm. It was dark in Princess Ligovski’s house. + </p> + <p> + The doctor entered; his brows were knit; contrary to custom, he did not + offer me his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you come from, doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “From Princess Ligovski’s; her daughter is ill—nervous exhaustion... + That is not the point, though. This is what I have come to tell you: the + authorities are suspicious, and, although it is impossible to prove + anything positively, I should, all the same, advise you to be cautious. + Princess Ligovski told me to-day that she knew that you fought a duel on + her daughter’s account. That little old man—what’s his name?—has + told her everything. He was a witness of your quarrel with Grushnitski in + the restaurant. I have come to warn you. Good-bye. Maybe we shall not meet + again: you will be banished somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped on the threshold; he would gladly have pressed my hand... and, + had I shown the slightest desire to embrace him, he would have thrown + himself upon my neck; but I remained cold as a rock—and he left the + room. + </p> + <p> + That is just like men! They are all the same: they know beforehand all the + bad points of an act, they help, they advise, they even encourage it, + seeing the impossibility of any other expedient—and then they wash + their hands of the whole affair and turn away with indignation from him + who has had the courage to take the whole burden of responsibility upon + himself. They are all like that, even the best-natured, the wisest... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + NEXT morning, having received orders from the supreme authority to betake + myself to the N——Fortress, I called upon Princess Ligovski to + say good-bye. + </p> + <p> + She was surprised when, in answer to her question, whether I had not + anything of special importance to tell her, I said I had come to wish her + good-bye, and so on. + </p> + <p> + “But I must have a very serious talk with you.” + </p> + <p> + I sat down in silence. + </p> + <p> + It was clear that she did not know how to begin; her face grew livid, she + tapped the table with her plump fingers; at length, in a broken voice, she + said: + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Monsieur Pechorin, I think that you are a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I am sure of it,” she continued, “although your behaviour is + somewhat equivocal, but you may have reasons which I do not know; and you + must now confide them to me. You have protected my daughter from slander, + you have fought a duel on her behalf—consequently you have risked + your life... Do not answer. I know that you will not acknowledge it + because Grushnitski has been killed”—she crossed herself. “God + forgive him—and you too, I hope... That does not concern me... I + dare not condemn you because my daughter, although innocently, has been + the cause. She has told me everything... everything, I think. You have + declared your love for her... She has admitted hers to you.”—Here + Princess Ligovski sighed heavily.—“But she is ill, and I am certain + that it is no simple illness! Secret grief is killing her; she will not + confess, but I am convinced that you are the cause of it... Listen: you + think, perhaps, that I am looking for rank or immense wealth—be + undeceived, my daughter’s happiness is my sole desire. Your present + position is unenviable, but it may be bettered: you have means; my + daughter loves you; she has been brought up in such a way that she will + make her husband a happy man. I am wealthy, she is my only child... Tell + me, what is keeping you back?... You see, I ought not to be saying all + this to you, but I rely upon your heart, upon your honour—remember + she is my only daughter... my only one”... + </p> + <p> + She burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Princess,” I said, “it is impossible for me to answer you; allow me to + speak to your daughter, alone”... + </p> + <p> + “Never!” she exclaimed, rising from her chair in violent agitation. + </p> + <p> + “As you wish,” I answered, preparing to go away. + </p> + <p> + She fell into thought, made a sign to me with her hand that I should wait + a little, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes passed. My heart was beating violently, but my thoughts were + tranquil, my head cool. However assiduously I sought in my breast for even + a spark of love for the charming Mary, my efforts were of no avail! + </p> + <p> + Then the door opened, and she entered. Heavens! How she had changed since + I had last seen her—and that but a short time ago! + </p> + <p> + When she reached the middle of the room, she staggered. I jumped up, gave + her my arm, and led her to a chair. + </p> + <p> + I stood facing her. We remained silent for a long time; her large eyes, + full of unutterable grief, seemed to be searching in mine for something + resembling hope; her wan lips vainly endeavoured to smile; her tender + hands, which were folded upon her knees, were so thin and transparent that + I pitied her. + </p> + <p> + “Princess,” I said, “you know that I have been making fun of you?... You + must despise me.” + </p> + <p> + A sickly flush suffused her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Consequently,” I continued, “you cannot love me”... + </p> + <p> + She turned her head away, leaned her elbows on the table, covered her eyes + with her hand, and it seemed to me that she was on the point of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God!” she said, almost inaudibly. + </p> + <p> + The situation was growing intolerable. Another minute—and I should + have fallen at her feet. + </p> + <p> + “So you see, yourself,” I said in as firm a voice as I could command, and + with a forced smile, “you see, yourself, that I cannot marry you. Even if + you wished it now, you would soon repent. My conversation with your mother + has compelled me to explain myself to you so frankly and so brutally. I + hope that she is under a delusion: it will be easy for you to undeceive + her. You see, I am playing a most pitiful and ugly role in your eyes, and + I even admit it—that is the utmost I can do for your sake. However + bad an opinion you may entertain of me, I submit to it... You see that I + am base in your sight, am I not?... Is it not true that, even if you have + loved me, you would despise me from this moment?”... + </p> + <p> + She turned round to me. She was pale as marble, but her eyes were + sparkling wondrously. + </p> + <p> + “I hate you”... she said. + </p> + <p> + I thanked her, bowed respectfully, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + An hour afterwards a postal express was bearing me rapidly from + Kislovodsk. A few versts from Essentuki I recognized near the roadway the + body of my spirited horse. The saddle had been taken off, no doubt by a + passing Cossack, and, in its place, two ravens were sitting on the horse’s + back. I sighed and turned away... + </p> + <p> + And now, here in this wearisome fortress, I often ask myself, as my + thoughts wander back to the past: why did I not wish to tread that way, + thrown open by destiny, where soft joys and ease of soul were awaiting + me?... No, I could never have become habituated to such a fate! I am like + a sailor born and bred on the deck of a pirate brig: his soul has grown + accustomed to storms and battles; but, once let him be cast upon the + shore, and he chafes, he pines away, however invitingly the shady groves + allure, however brightly shines the peaceful sun. The livelong day he + paces the sandy shore, hearkens to the monotonous murmur of the onrushing + waves, and gazes into the misty distance: lo! yonder, upon the pale line + dividing the blue deep from the grey clouds, is there not glancing the + longed-for sail, at first like the wing of a seagull, but little by little + severing itself from the foam of the billows and, with even course, + drawing nigh to the desert harbour? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPE" id="link2H_APPE"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION + </h2> + <h3> + (By the Author) + </h3> + <p> + THE preface to a book serves the double purpose of prologue and epilogue. + It affords the author an opportunity of explaining the object of the work, + or of vindicating himself and replying to his critics. As a rule, however, + the reader is concerned neither with the moral purpose of the book nor + with the attacks of the Reviewers, and so the preface remains unread. + Nevertheless, this is a pity, especially with us Russians! The public of + this country is so youthful, not to say simple-minded, that it cannot + understand the meaning of a fable unless the moral is set forth at the + end. Unable to see a joke, insensible to irony, it has, in a word, been + badly brought up. It has not yet learned that in a decent book, as in + decent society, open invective can have no place; that our present-day + civilisation has invented a keener weapon, none the less deadly for being + almost invisible, which, under the cloak of flattery, strikes with sure + and irresistible effect. The Russian public is like a simple-minded person + from the country who, chancing to overhear a conversation between two + diplomatists belonging to hostile courts, comes away with the conviction + that each of them has been deceiving his Government in the interest of a + most affectionate private friendship. + </p> + <p> + The unfortunate effects of an over-literal acceptation of words by certain + readers and even Reviewers have recently been manifested in regard to the + present book. Many of its readers have been dreadfully, and in all + seriousness, shocked to find such an immoral man as Pechorin set before + them as an example. Others have observed, with much acumen, that the + author has painted his own portrait and those of his acquaintances!... + What a stale and wretched jest! But Russia, it appears, has been + constituted in such a way that absurdities of this kind will never be + eradicated. It is doubtful whether, in this country, the most ethereal of + fairy-tales would escape the reproach of attempting offensive + personalities. + </p> + <p> + Pechorin, gentlemen, is in fact a portrait, but not of one man only: he is + a composite portrait, made up of all the vices which flourish, fullgrown, + amongst the present generation. You will tell me, as you have told me + before, that no man can be so bad as this; and my reply will be: “If you + believe that such persons as the villains of tragedy and romance could + exist in real life, why can you not believe in the reality of Pechorin? If + you admire fictions much more terrible and monstrous, why is it that this + character, even if regarded merely as a creature of the imagination, + cannot obtain quarter at your hands? Is it not because there is more truth + in it than may be altogether palatable to you?” + </p> + <p> + You will say that the cause of morality gains nothing by this book. I beg + your pardon. People have been surfeited with sweetmeats and their + digestion has been ruined: bitter medicines, sharp truths, are therefore + necessary. This must not, however, be taken to mean that the author has + ever proudly dreamed of becoming a reformer of human vices. Heaven keep + him from such impertinence! He has simply found it entertaining to depict + a man, such as he considers to be typical of the present day and such as + he has often met in real life—too often, indeed, unfortunately both + for the author himself and for you. Suffice it that the disease has been + pointed out: how it is to be cured—God alone knows! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOOTNOTES: + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br /> [ A retail shop and tavern + combined.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 2 (<a href="#linknoteref-2">return</a>)<br /> [ A verst is a measure of + length, about 3500 English feet.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-3" id="linknote-3"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 3 (<a href="#linknoteref-3">return</a>)<br /> [ Ermolov, i.e. General + Ermolov. Russians have three names—Christian name, patronymic and + surname. They are addressed by the first two only. The surname of Maksim + Maksimych (colloquial for Maksimovich) is not mentioned.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-4" id="linknote-4"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 4 (<a href="#linknoteref-4">return</a>)<br /> [ The bell on the duga, a + wooden arch joining the shafts of a Russian conveyance over the horse’s + neck.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-5" id="linknote-5"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 5 (<a href="#linknoteref-5">return</a>)<br /> [ Rocky Ford.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-6" id="linknote-6"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 6 (<a href="#linknoteref-6">return</a>)<br /> [ A kind of beer made from + millet.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-7" id="linknote-7"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 7 (<a href="#linknoteref-7">return</a>)<br /> [ i.e. acknowledging Russian + supremacy.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-8" id="linknote-8"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 8 (<a href="#linknoteref-8">return</a>)<br /> [ A kind of two-stringed or + three-stringed guitar.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-9" id="linknote-9"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 9 (<a href="#linknoteref-9">return</a>)<br /> [ “Good—very good.”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-10" id="linknote-10"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 10 (<a href="#linknoteref-10">return</a>)<br /> [ Turkish for “Black-eye.”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-11" id="linknote-11"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 11 (<a href="#linknoteref-11">return</a>)<br /> [ “No!”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-12" id="linknote-12"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 12 (<a href="#linknoteref-12">return</a>)<br /> [ A particular kind of + ancient and valued sabre.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-13" id="linknote-13"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 13 (<a href="#linknoteref-13">return</a>)<br /> [ King—a title of the + Sultan of Turkey.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-14" id="linknote-14"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 14 (<a href="#linknoteref-14">return</a>)<br /> [ I beg my readers’ pardon + for having versified Kazbich’s song, which, of course, as I heard it, was + in prose; but habit is second nature. (Author’s note.)] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-151" id="linknote-151"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 151 (<a href="#linknoteref-151">return</a>)<br /> [ “No! Russian—bad, + bad!”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-15" id="linknote-15"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 15 (<a href="#linknoteref-15">return</a>)<br /> [ Krestov is an adjective + meaning “of the cross” (Krest=cross); and, of course, is not the Russian + for “Christophe.”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-16" id="linknote-16"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 16 (<a href="#linknoteref-16">return</a>)<br /> [ A legendary Russian hero + whose whistling knocked people down.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-17" id="linknote-17"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 17 (<a href="#linknoteref-17">return</a>)<br /> [ Lezghian dance.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-18" id="linknote-18"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 18 (<a href="#linknoteref-18">return</a>)<br /> [ In Russian—okaziya=occasion, + adventure, etc.; chto za okaziya=how unfortunate!] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-19" id="linknote-19"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 19 (<a href="#linknoteref-19">return</a>)<br /> [ The duga.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-20" id="linknote-20"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 20 (<a href="#linknoteref-20">return</a>)<br /> [ “Thou” is the form of + address used in speaking to an intimate friend, etc. Pechorin had used the + more formal “you.”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-21" id="linknote-21"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 21 (<a href="#linknoteref-21">return</a>)<br /> [ Team of three horses + abreast.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-22" id="linknote-22"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 22 (<a href="#linknoteref-22">return</a>)<br /> [ Desyatnik, a + superintendent of ten (men or huts), i.e. an officer like the old English + tithing-man or headborough.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-23" id="linknote-23"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 23 (<a href="#linknoteref-23">return</a>)<br /> [ Card-games.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-24" id="linknote-24"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 24 (<a href="#linknoteref-24">return</a>)<br /> [ A Caucasian wine.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-25" id="linknote-25"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 25 (<a href="#linknoteref-25">return</a>)<br /> [ Pushkin. Compare + Shelley’s Adonais, xxxi. 3: “as the last cloud of an expiring storm.”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-26" id="linknote-26"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 26 (<a href="#linknoteref-26">return</a>)<br /> [ The Snake, the Iron and + the Bald Mountains.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-27" id="linknote-27"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 27 (<a href="#linknoteref-27">return</a>)<br /> [ Nizhegorod is the + “government” of which Nizhniy Novgorod is the capital.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-271" id="linknote-271"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 271 (<a href="#linknoteref-271">return</a>)<br /> [ A popular phrase, + equivalent to: “How should I think of doing such a thing?”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-272" id="linknote-272"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 272 (<a href="#linknoteref-272">return</a>)<br /> [ Published by Senkovski, + and under the censorship of the Government.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-273" id="linknote-273"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 273 (<a href="#linknoteref-273">return</a>)<br /> [ Civil servants of the + ninth (the lowest) class.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-28" id="linknote-28"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 28 (<a href="#linknoteref-28">return</a>)<br /> [ i.e. serfs.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-29" id="linknote-29"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 29 (<a href="#linknoteref-29">return</a>)<br /> [ Pushkin: Eugene Onyegin.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-30" id="linknote-30"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 30 (<a href="#linknoteref-30">return</a>)<br /> [ Canto XVIII, 10: ] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Quinci al bosco t’ invia, dove cotanti] + + Son fantasmi inganne vole e bugiardi”...] +</pre> + <p> + <a name="linknote-301" id="linknote-301"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 301 (<a href="#linknoteref-301">return</a>)<br /> [ None of the Waverley + novels, of course, bears this title. The novel referred to is doubtless + “Old Mortality,” on which Bellini’s opera, “I Puritani di Scozia,” is + founded.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-31" id="linknote-31"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 31 (<a href="#linknoteref-31">return</a>)<br /> [ Popular phrases, + equivalent to: “Men are fools, fortune is blind, and life is not worth a + straw.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Hero of Our Time, by M. Y. 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