A HERO OF OUR TIME

By J. H. Wisdom & Marr Murray

Translated From The Russian Of M. Y. Lermontov

FOREWORD

THIS novel, known as one of the masterpieces of Russian Literature, under the title "A Hero of our Time, " and already translated into atleast nine European languages, is now for the first time placed beforethe general English Reader. 

The work is of exceptional interest to the student of EnglishLiterature, written as it was under the profound influence of Byron andbeing itself a study of the Byronic type of character. 

The Translators have taken especial care to preserve both the atmosphereof the story and the poetic beauty with which the Poet-novelist imbuedhis pages. 

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

BOOK I. BELA

BOOK II. MAKSIM MAKSIMYCH

FOREWORD TO EXTRACTS FROM PECHORIN'S DIARY

BOOK III. TAMAN

BOOK IV. THE FATALIST

BOOK V. PRINCESS MARY

APPENDIX. THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

BOOK I BELA

THE HEART OF A RUSSIAN

CHAPTER I

I was travelling post from Tiflis. 

All the luggage I had in my cart consisted of one small portmanteau halffilled with travelling-notes on Georgia; of these the greater part hasbeen lost, fortunately for you; but the portmanteau itself and the restof its contents have remained intact, fortunately for me. 

As I entered the Koishaur Valley the sun was disappearing behind thesnow-clad ridge of the mountains. In order to accomplish the ascent ofMount Koishaur by nightfall, my driver, an Ossete, urged on the horsesindefatigably, singing zealously the while at the top of his voice. 

What a glorious place that valley is! On every hand are inaccessiblemountains, steep, yellow slopes scored by water-channels, and reddishrocks draped with green ivy and crowned with clusters of plane-trees. Yonder, at an immense height, is the golden fringe of the snow. Downbelow rolls the River Aragva, which, after bursting noisily forth fromthe dark and misty depths of the gorge, with an unnamed stream claspedin its embrace, stretches out like a thread of silver, its watersglistening like a snake with flashing scales. 

Arrived at the foot of Mount Koishaur, we stopped at a dukhan. [1] Abouta score of Georgians and mountaineers were gathered there in a noisycrowd, and, close by, a caravan of camels had halted for the night. Iwas obliged to hire oxen to drag my cart up that accursed mountain, asit was now autumn and the roads were slippery with ice. Besides, themountain is about two versts [2] in length. 

There was no help for it, so I hired six oxen and a few Ossetes. One ofthe latter shouldered my portmanteau, and the rest, shouting almost withone voice, proceeded to help the oxen. 

Following mine there came another cart, which I was surprised to seefour oxen pulling with the greatest ease, notwithstanding that itwas loaded to the top. Behind it walked the owner, smoking a little, silver-mounted Kabardian pipe. He was wearing a shaggy Circassian capand an officer's overcoat without epaulettes, and he seemed to be aboutfifty years of age. The swarthiness of his complexion showed thathis face had long been acquainted with Transcaucasian suns, and thepremature greyness of his moustache was out of keeping with his firmgait and robust appearance. I went up to him and saluted. He silentlyreturned my greeting and emitted an immense cloud of smoke. 

"We are fellow-travellers, it appears. "

Again he bowed silently. 

"I suppose you are going to Stavropol?"

"Yes, sir, exactly--with Government things. "

"Can you tell me how it is that that heavily-laden cart of yours isbeing drawn without any difficulty by four oxen, whilst six cattleare scarcely able to move mine, empty though it is, and with all thoseOssetes helping?"

He smiled slyly and threw me a meaning glance. 

"You have not been in the Caucasus long, I should say?"

"About a year, " I answered. 

He smiled a second time. 

"Well?"

"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 oxenunderstand, though; and if you were to yoke as many as twenty they stillwouldn't budge so long as the Ossetes shouted in that way of theirs. .. . Awful scoundrels! But what can you make of them? They love extortingmoney from people who happen to be travelling through here. The rogueshave been spoiled! You wait and see: they will get a tip out of you aswell as their hire. I know them of old, they can't get round me!"

"You have been serving here a long time?"

"Yes, I was here under Aleksei Petrovich, " [3] he answered, assuming anair of dignity. "I was a sub-lieutenant when he came to the Line; andI was promoted twice, during his command, on account of actions againstthe mountaineers. "

"And now--?"

"Now I'm in the third battalion of the Line. And you yourself?"

I told him. 

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 daywithout any interval of twilight. Thanks, however, to the sheen of thesnow, we were able easily to distinguish the road, which still wentup the mountain-side, though not so steeply as before. I ordered theOssetes to put my portmanteau into the cart, and to replace the oxenby horses. Then for the last time I gazed down upon the valley; butthe thick mist which had gushed in billows from the gorges veiled itcompletely, and not a single sound now floated up to our ears frombelow. The Ossetes surrounded me clamorously and demanded tips; but thestaff-captain shouted so menacingly at them that they dispersed in amoment. 

"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. ". .. 

We were now within a verst or so of the Station. Around us all wasstill, so still, indeed, that it was possible to follow the flight of agnat by the buzzing of its wings. On our left loomed the gorge, deep andblack. Behind it and in front of us rose the dark-blue summits of themountains, all trenched with furrows and covered with layers of snow, and standing out against the pale horizon, which still retained the lastreflections 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 thanin our own north country. On both sides of the road bare, black rocksjutted out; here and there shrubs peeped forth from under the snow; butnot a single withered leaf stirred, and amid that dead sleep of natureit was cheering to hear the snorting of the three tired post-horses andthe irregular tinkling of the Russian bell. [4]

"We will have glorious weather to-morrow, " I said. 

The staff-captain answered not a word, but pointed with his finger to alofty mountain which rose directly opposite us. 

"What is it?" I asked. 

"Mount Gut. "

"Well, what then?"

"Don't you see how it is smoking?"

True enough, smoke was rising from Mount Gut. Over its sides gentlecloud-currents were creeping, and on the summit rested one cloud of suchdense blackness that it appeared like a blot upon the dark sky. 

By this time we were able to make out the Post Station and the roofs ofthe huts surrounding it; the welcoming lights were twinkling before us, when suddenly a damp and chilly wind arose, the gorge rumbled, and adrizzling rain fell. I had scarcely time to throw my felt cloak roundme when down came the snow. I looked at the staff-captain with profoundrespect. 

"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, havethere been any avalanches on Mount Krestov?" he inquired of the driver. 

"No, sir, " the Ossete answered; "but there are a great many threateningto fall--a great many. "

Owing to the lack of a travellers' room in the Station, we were assigneda night's lodging in a smoky hut. I invited my fellow-traveller to drinka tumbler of tea with me, as I had brought my cast-iron teapot--my onlysolace during my travels in the Caucasus. 

One side of the hut was stuck against the cliff, and three wet andslippery steps led up to the door. I groped my way in and stumbled upagainst a cow (with these people the cow-house supplies the place of aservant's room). I did not know which way to turn--sheep were bleatingon 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 wasable to find another opening by way of a door. And here a by no meansuninteresting picture was revealed. The wide hut, the roof of whichrested on two smoke-grimed pillars, was full of people. In the centre ofthe floor a small fire was crackling, and the smoke, driven back by thewind from an opening in the roof, was spreading around in so thick ashroud that for a long time I was unable to see about me. Seated by thefire were two old women, a number of children and a lank Georgian--allof them in tatters. There was no help for it! We took refuge by the fireand lighted our pipes; and soon the teapot was singing invitingly. 

"Wretched people, these!" I said to the staff-captain, indicating ourdirty hosts, who were silently gazing at us in a kind of torpor. 

"And an utterly stupid people too!" he replied. "Would you believeit, they are absolutely ignorant and incapable of the slightestcivilisation! Why even our Kabardians or Chechenes, robbers andragamuffins though they be, are regular dare-devils for all that. Whereas these others have no liking for arms, and you'll never see adecent dagger on one of them! Ossetes all over!"

"You have been a long time in the Chechenes' country?"

"Yes, I was quartered there for about ten years along with my company ina fortress, near Kamennyi Brod. [5] Do you know the place?"

"I have heard the name. "

"I can tell you, my boy, we had quite enough of those dare-devilChechenes. At the present time, thank goodness, things are quieter; butin the old days you had only to put a hundred paces between you and therampart and wherever you went you would be sure to find a shaggy devillurking in wait for you. You had just to let your thoughts wander and atany moment a lasso would be round your neck or a bullet in the back ofyour head! Brave fellows, though!". .. 

"You used to have many an adventure, I dare say?" I said, spurred bycuriosity. 

"Of course! Many a one. ". .. 

Hereupon he began to tug at his left moustache, let his head sink onto his breast, and became lost in thought. I had a very great mind toextract some little anecdote out of him--a desire natural to all whotravel and make notes. 

Meanwhile, tea was ready. I took two travelling-tumblers out of myportmanteau, and, filling one of them, set it before the staff-captain. He sipped his tea and said, as if speaking to himself, "Yes, many aone!" This exclamation gave me great hopes. Your old Caucasian officerloves, I know, to talk and yarn a bit; he so rarely succeeds in gettinga chance to do so. It may be his fate to be quartered five years or sowith his company in some out-of-the-way place, and during the wholeof that time he will not hear "good morning" from a soul (because thesergeant says "good health"). And, indeed, he would have good causeto 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 sofew of our countrymen take notes. 

"Would you care to put some rum in your tea?" I said to my companion. "Ihave some white rum with me--from Tiflis; and the weather is cold now. "

"No, thank you, sir; I don't drink. "

"Really?"

"Just so. I have sworn off drinking. Once, you know, when I was asub-lieutenant, some of us had a drop too much. That very night therewas an alarm, and out we went to the front, half seas over! We did catchit, 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 uscourt-martialled. That's just how things happen! You might easily spenda whole year without seeing a soul; but just go and have a drop andyou're a lost man!"

On hearing this I almost lost hope. 

"Take the Circassians, now, " he continued; "once let them drink theirfill of buza [6] at a wedding or a funeral, and out will come theirknives. On one occasion I had some difficulty in getting away with awhole skin, and yet it was at the house of a 'friendly' [7] prince, where I was a guest, that the affair happened. "

"How was that?" I asked. 

"Here, I'll tell you. ". .. 

He filled his pipe, drew in the smoke, and began his story. 

CHAPTER II

"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 yearsago now. One autumn day, a transport arrived with provisions, in chargeof an officer, a young man of about twenty-five. He reported himself tome in full uniform, and announced that he had been ordered to remain inthe fortress with me. He was so very elegant, his complexion so nice andwhite, his uniform so brand new, that I immediately guessed that he hadnot been long with our army in the Caucasus. 

"'I suppose you have been transferred from Russia?' I asked. 

"'Exactly, captain, ' he answered. 

"I took him by the hand and said:

"'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 fulluniform for? Just wear your forage-cap whenever you come to me!'

"Quarters were assigned to him and he settled down in the fortress. "

"What was his name?" I asked Maksim Maksimych. 

"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'tmind either cold or fatigue. Then, another time, he would be sitting inhis own room, and, if there was a breath of wind, he would declare thathe had caught cold; if the shutters rattled against the window hewould start and turn pale: yet I myself have seen him attack a boarsingle-handed. Often enough you couldn't drag a word out of him forhours together; but then, on the other hand, sometimes, when he startedtelling stories, you would split your sides with laughing. Yes, sir, a very eccentric man; and he must have been wealthy too. What a lot ofexpensive trinkets he had!". .. 

"Did he stay there long with you?" I went on to ask. 

"Yes, about a year. And, for that very reason, it was a memorable yearto me. He gave me a great deal of trouble--but there, let bygones bebygones!. .. You see, it is true enough, there are people like that, fated from birth to have all sorts of strange things happening to them!"

"Strange?" I exclaimed, with an air of curiosity, as I poured out sometea. 

CHAPTER III

"WELL, then, I'll tell you, " said Maksim Maksimych. "About six verstsfrom the fortress there lived a certain 'friendly' prince. His son, abrat of about fifteen, was accustomed to ride over to visit us. Not aday passed but he would come, now for one thing, now for another. And, indeed, Grigori Aleksandrovich and I spoiled him. What a dare-devil theboy was! Up to anything, picking up a cap at full gallop, or bringingthings down with his gun! He had one bad quality; he was terriblygreedy for money. Once, for the fun of the thing, Grigori Aleksandrovichpromised to give him a ducat if he would steal the best he-goat from hisfather's herd for him; and, what do you think? The very next night hecame lugging it in by the horns! At times we used to take it into ourheads to tease him, and then his eyes would become bloodshot and hishand would fly to his dagger immediately. 

"'You'll be losing your life if you are not careful, Azamat, ' I wouldsay to him. 'That hot head of yours will get you into trouble. '

"On one occasion, the old prince himself came to invite us to thewedding 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 thevillage 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 wereable to get a view of were far from being beauties. 

"'I had a much better opinion of the Circassian women, ' remarked GrigoriAleksandrovich. 

"'Wait a bit!' I answered, with a smile; I had my own views on thesubject. 

"A number of people had already gathered at the prince's hut. It is thecustom of the Asiatics, you know, to invite all and sundry to awedding. We were received with every mark of honour and conducted to theguest-chamber. All the same, I did not forget quietly to mark where ourhorses were put, in case anything unforeseen should happen. "

"How are weddings celebrated amongst them?" I asked the staff-captain. 

"Oh, in the usual way. First of all, the Mullah reads them somethingout of the Koran; then gifts are bestowed upon the young couple and alltheir relations; the next thing is eating and drinking of buza, then thedance on horseback; and there is always some ragamuffin, bedaubed withgrease, bestriding a wretched, lame jade, and grimacing, buffooning, andmaking the worshipful company laugh. Finally, when darkness falls, theyproceed 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 theycall it, but anyhow, it is something in the nature of our balalaika. [8]The girls and young children set themselves in two ranks, one oppositethe other, and clap their hands and sing. Then a girl and a man come outinto the centre and begin to chant verses to each other--whatever comesinto their heads--and the rest join in as a chorus. Pechorin and Isat in the place of honour. All at once up came our host's youngestdaughter, a girl of about sixteen, and chanted to Pechorin--how shall Iput it?--something in the nature of a compliment. ". .. 

"What was it she sang--do you remember?"

"It went like this, I fancy: 'Handsome, they say, are our younghorsemen, and the tunics they wear are garnished with silver; buthandsomer still is the young Russian officer, and the lace on his tunicis wrought of gold. Like a poplar amongst them he stands, but in gardensof ours such trees will grow not nor bloom!'

"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 translatedhis reply. 

"When she had left us I whispered to Grigori Aleksandrovich:

"'Well, now, what do you think of her?'

"'Charming!' he replied. 'What is her name?'

"'Her name is Bela, ' I answered. 

"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 lookedinto 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 herlashes. Pechorin, however, was not the only one who was admiring thepretty princess; another pair of eyes, fixed and fiery, were gazing ather from the corner of the room. I took a good look at their owner, andrecognised my old acquaintance Kazbich, who, you must know, was neitherexactly 'friendly' nor yet the other thing. He was an object of muchsuspicion, although he had never actually been caught at any knavery. Heused to bring rams to our fortress and sell them cheaply; only he neverwould haggle; whatever he demanded at first you had to give. Hewould have his throat cut rather than come down in price. He had thereputation of being fond of roaming on the far side of the Kuban withthe Abreks; and, to tell the truth, he had a regular thief's visage. Alittle, wizened, broad-shouldered fellow he was--but smart, I can tellyou, smart as the very devil! His tunic was always worn out andpatched, but his weapons were mounted in silver. His horse was renownedthroughout Kabardia--and, indeed, a better one it would be impossibleto imagine! Not without good reason did all the other horsemen envyKazbich, and on more than one occasion they had attempted to steal thehorse, but they had never succeeded. I seem to see the animal beforeme now--black as coal, with legs like bow-strings and eyes as fine asBela's! How strong he was too! He would gallop as much as fifty verstsat a stretch! And he was well trained besides--he would trot behind hismaster like a dog, and actually knew his voice! Kazbich never used totether him either--just the very horse for a robber!. .. 

"On that evening Kazbich was more sullen than ever, and I noticed thathe was wearing a coat of mail under his tunic. 'He hasn't got that coatof mail on for nothing, ' I thought. 'He has some plot in his head, I'llbe bound!'

"It grew oppressively hot in the hut, and I went out into the airto cool myself. Night had fallen upon the mountains, and a mist wasbeginning to creep along the gorges. 

"It occurred to me to pop in under the shed where our horses werestanding, to see whether they had their fodder; and, besides, it isnever any harm to take precautions. My horse was a splendid one too, andmore than one Kabardian had already cast fond glances at it, repeatingat the same time: 'Yakshi tkhe chok yakshi. ' [9]

"I stole along the fence. Suddenly I heard voices, one of which Iimmediately recognised. 

"It was that of the young pickle, Azamat, our host's son. The otherperson spoke less and in a quieter tone. 

"'What are they discussing there?' I wondered. 'Surely it can't bemy horse!' I squatted down beside the fence and proceeded to play theeavesdropper, trying not to let slip a single word. At times the noiseof songs and the buzz of voices, escaping from the hut, drowned theconversation which I was finding interesting. 

"'That's a splendid horse of yours, ' Azamat was saying. 'If I weremaster of a house of my own and had a stud of three hundred mares, Iwould give half of it for your galloper, Kazbich!'

"'Aha! Kazbich!' I said to myself, and I called to mind the coat ofmail. 

"'Yes, ' replied Kazbich, after an interval of silence. 'There is notsuch another to be found in all Kabardia. Once--it was on the other sideof the Terek--I had ridden with the Abreks to seize the Russian herds. We had no luck, so we scattered in different directions. Four Cossacksdashed after me. I could actually hear the cries of the giaours behindme, and in front of me there was a dense forest. I crouched down in thesaddle, 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 amongthe branches; the sharp thorns tore my clothing, the dead boughs of thecork-elms struck against my face! My horse leaped over tree-trunks andburst his way through bushes with his chest! It would have beenbetter for me to have abandoned him at the outskirts of the forest andconcealed myself in it afoot, but it was a pity to part with him--andthe Prophet rewarded me. A few bullets whistled over my head. I couldnow hear the Cossacks, who had dismounted, running upon my tracks. Suddenly a deep gully opened before me. My galloper took thought--andleaped. His hind hoofs slipped back off the opposite bank, and heremained hanging by his fore-feet. I dropped the bridle and threw myselfinto the hollow, thereby saving my horse, which jumped out. The Cossackssaw 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 themrushing to catch my horse. My heart bled within me. I crept along thehollow through the thick grass--then I looked around: it was the end ofthe forest. A few Cossacks were riding out from it on to the clearing, and there was my Karagyoz [10] galloping straight towards them. With ashout they all dashed forward. For a long, long time they pursued him, and one of them, in particular, was once or twice almost successful inthrowing a lasso over his neck. 

"I trembled, dropped my eyes, and began to pray. After a few momentsI looked up again, and there was my Karagyoz flying along, his tailwaving--free as the wind; and the giaours, on their jaded horses, weretrailing 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 horsetrotting along the bank of the hollow, snorting, neighing, and beatingthe ground with his hoofs. I recognised my Karagyoz's voice; 'twas he, my comrade!". .. Since that time we have never been parted!'

"And I could hear him patting his galloper's sleek neck with his hand, as he called him various fond names. 

"'If I had a stud of a thousand mares, ' said Azamat, 'I would give itall for your Karagyoz!'

"'Yok! [11] I would not take it!' said Kazbich indifferently. 

"'Listen, Kazbich, ' said Azamat, trying to ingratiate himself with him. 'You are a kindhearted man, you are a brave horseman, but my father isafraid 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 myfather's best rifle for you, or his sabre--just as you like--and hissabre is a genuine Gurda; [12] you have only to lay the edge againstyour hand, and it will cut you; a coat of mail like yours is nothingagainst it. '

"Kazbich remained silent. 

"'The first time I saw your horse, ' continued Azamat, 'when he waswheeling and leaping under you, his nostrils distended, and the flintsflying in showers from under his hoofs, something I could not understandtook place within my soul; and since that time I have been weary ofeverything. I have looked with disdain on my father's best gallopers; Ihave been ashamed to be seen on them, and yearning has taken possessionof me. In my anguish I have spent whole days on the cliffs, and, everyminute, my thoughts have kept turning to your black galloper with hisgraceful 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 shalldie, Kazbich, if you will not sell him to me!' said Azamat, withtrembling voice. 

"I could hear him burst out weeping, and I must tell you that Azamat wasa very stubborn lad, and that not for anything could tears be wrung fromhim, even when he was a little younger. 

"In answer to his tears, I could hear something like a laugh. 

"'Listen, ' said Azamat in a firm voice. 'You see, I am making up mymind for anything. If you like, I will steal my sister for you! How shedances! How she sings! And the way she embroiders with gold--marvellous!Not even a Turkish Padishah [13] has had a wife like her!. .. Shall I?Wait for me to-morrow night, yonder, in the gorge where the torrentflows; I will go by with her to the neighbouring village--and she isyours. Surely Bela is worth your galloper!'

"Kazbich remained silent for a long, long time. At length, instead ofanswering, he struck up in an undertone the ancient song:

 "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. " [14]

"In vain Azamat entreated him to consent. He wept, coaxed, and swore tohim. Finally, Kazbich interrupted him impatiently:

"'Begone, you crazy brat! How should you think to ride on my horse? Inthree steps you would be thrown and your neck broken on the stones!'

"'I?' cried Azamat in a fury, and the blade of the child's dagger rangagainst the coat of mail. A powerful arm thrust him away, and he struckthe wattle fence with such violence that it rocked. 

"'Now we'll see some fun!' I thought to myself. 

"I rushed into the stable, bridled our horses and led them out into theback courtyard. In a couple of minutes there was a terrible uproar inthe hut. What had happened was this: Azamat had rushed in, with histunic torn, saying that Kazbich was going to murder him. All sprang out, seized their guns, and the fun began! Noise--shouts--shots! But by thistime Kazbich was in the saddle, and, wheeling among the crowd along thestreet, defended himself like a madman, brandishing his sabre. 

"'It is a bad thing to interfere in other people's quarrels, ' I said toGrigori Aleksandrovich, taking him by the arm. 'Wouldn't it be betterfor us to clear off without loss of time?'

"'Wait, though, and see how it will end!'

"'Oh, as to that, it will be sure enough to end badly; it is alwaysso with these Asiatics. Once let them get drunk on buza, and there'scertain to be bloodshed. '

"We mounted and galloped home. "

CHAPTER IV

"TELL me, what became of Kazbich?" I asked the staff-captainimpatiently. 

"Why, what can happen to that sort of a fellow?" he answered, finishinghis tumbler of tea. "He slipped away, of course. "

"And wasn't he wounded?" I asked. 

"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 bayonetslike a sieve, and still brandishing his sabre. "

After an interval of silence the staff-captain continued, tapping theground with his foot:

"One thing I'll never forgive myself for. On our arrival at the fortressthe devil put it into my head to repeat to Grigori Aleksandrovichall that I had heard when I was eavesdropping behind the fence. Helaughed--cunning fellow!--and thought out a little plan of his own. "

"What was that? Tell me, please. "

"Well, there's no help for it now, I suppose. I've begun the story, andso I must continue. 

"In about four days' time Azamat rode over to the fortress. As his usualcustom was, he went to see Grigori Aleksandrovich, who always used togive him sweetmeats to eat. I was present. The conversation was on thesubject of horses, and Pechorin began to sound the praises of Kazbich'sKaragyoz. What a mettlesome horse it was, and how handsome! A perfectchamois! In fact, judging by his account, there simply wasn't anotherlike it in the whole world!

"The young Tartar's beady eyes began to sparkle, but Pechorin didn'tseem to notice the fact. I started to talk about something else, butimmediately, mark you, Pechorin caused the conversation to strike off onto Kazbich's horse. Every time that Azamat came it was the same story. After about three weeks, I began to observe that Azamat was growingpale and wasted, just as people in novels do from love, sir. What wondereither!. .. 

"Well, you see, it was not until afterwards that I learned the wholetrick--Grigori Aleksandrovich exasperated Azamat to such an extentwith his teasing that the boy was ready even to drown himself. One dayPechorin suddenly broke out with:

"'I see, Azamat, that you have taken a desperate fancy to that horseof Kazbich's, but you'll no more see him than you will the back of yourneck! Come, tell me, what would you give if somebody made you a presentof him?'

"'Anything he wanted, ' answered Azamat. 

"'In that case I will get the horse for you, only on one condition. .. Swear that you will fulfil it?'

"'I swear. You swear too!'

"'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 herbridegroom's gift. I hope the transaction will be a profitable one foryou. '

"Azamat remained silent. 

"'Won't you? Well, just as you like! I thought you were a man, butit seems you are still a child; it is early for you to be riding onhorseback!'

"Azamat fired up. 

"'But my father--' he said. 

"'Does he never go away, then?'

"'True. '

"'You agree?'

"'I agree, ' whispered Azamat, pale as death. 'But when?'

"'The first time Kazbich rides over here. He has promised to drive inhalf a score of rams; the rest is my affair. Look out, then, Azamat!'

"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 wildCircassian girl ought to consider herself fortunate in having sucha charming husband as himself--because, according to their ideas, hereally was her husband--and that Kazbich was a scoundrel, and ought tobe punished. Judge for yourself, what could I say to that?. .. At thetime, however, I knew nothing of their conspiracy. Well, one day Kazbichrode up and asked whether we needed any rams and honey; and I orderedhim to bring some the next day. 

"'Azamat!' said Grigori Aleksandrovich; 'to-morrow Karagyoz will be inmy hands; if Bela is not here to-night you will never see the horse. '. . 

"'Very well, ' said Azamat, and galloped to the village. 

"In the evening Grigori Aleksandrovich armed himself and rode out of thefortress. How they settled the business I don't know, but at night theyboth returned, and the sentry saw that across Azamat's saddle a womanwas lying, bound hand and foot and with her head wrapped in a veil. "

"And the horse?" I asked the staff-captain. 

"One minute! One minute! Early next morning Kazbich rode over, drivingin half a score of rams for sale. Tethering his horse by the fence, hecame in to see me, and I regaled him with tea, for, robber though hewas, he was none the less my guest-friend. 

"We began to chat about one thing and another. .. Suddenly I saw Kazbichstart, change countenance, and dart to the window; but unfortunately thewindow looked on to the back courtyard. 

"'What is the matter with you?' I asked. 

"'My horse!. .. My horse!' he cried, all of a tremble. 

"As a matter of fact I heard the clattering of hoofs. 

"'It is probably some Cossack who has ridden up. '

"'No! Urus--yaman, yaman!' [151] he roared, and rushed headlong awaylike a wild panther. In two bounds he was in the courtyard; at the gateof the fortress the sentry barred the way with his gun; Kazbich jumpedover the gun and dashed off at a run along the road. .. Dust was whirlingin the distance--Azamat was galloping away on the mettlesome Karagyoz. Kazbich, as he ran, tore his gun out of its cover and fired. For amoment he remained motionless, until he had assured himself that he hadmissed. Then he uttered a shrill cry, knocked the gun against a rock, smashed it to splinters, fell to the ground, and burst out sobbing likea child. .. The people from the fortress gathered round him, but he tookno 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'ttouch it, but lay with his face to the ground like a dead man. Would youbelieve it? He remained lying like that throughout the rest of that dayand the following night! It was only on the next morning that he came tothe fortress and proceeded to ask that the name of the thief shouldbe told him. The sentry who had observed Azamat untying the horse andgalloping away on him did not see any necessity for concealment. At thename of Azamat, Kazbich's eyes flashed, and he set off to the villagewhere Azamat's father lived. " === "And what about the father?"

"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 couldAzamat have succeeded in carrying off Bela?

"And, when the father returned, there was neither daughter nor son to befound. A wily rogue, Azamat! He understood, you see, that he would losehis 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 lifeon the other side of the Terek or the Kuban. It would have served himright!". .. 

 CHAPTER V

"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 GrigoriAleksandrovich, I put on my epaulettes and sword and went to see him. 

"He was lying on the bed in the outer room, with one hand under his headand the other holding a pipe which had gone out. The door leading to theinner room was locked, and there was no key in the lock. I observed allthat in a moment. .. I coughed and rapped my heels against the threshold, but he pretended not to hear. 

"'Ensign!' I said, as sternly as I could. 'Do you not see that I havecome to you?'

"'Ah, good morning, Maksim Maksimych! Won't you have a pipe?' heanswered, without rising. 

"'Excuse me, I am not Maksim Maksimych. I am the staff-captain. '

"'It's all the same! Won't you have some tea? If you only knew how I ambeing tortured with anxiety. '

"'I know all, ' I answered, going up to the bed. 

"'So much the better, ' he said. 'I am not in a narrative mood. '

"'Ensign, you have committed an offence for which I may have to answeras well as you. '

"'Oh, that'll do. What's the harm? You know, we've gone halves ineverything. '

"'What sort of a joke do you think you are playing? Your sword, please!'. .. 

"'Mitka, my sword!'

"'Mitka brought the sword. My duty discharged, I sat down on the bed, facing Pechorin, and said: 'Listen here, Grigori Aleksandrovich, youmust admit that this is a bad business. '

"'What is?'

"'Why, that you have carried off Bela. .. Ah, it is that beast Azamat!. .. Come, confess!' I said. 

"'But, supposing I am fond of her?'. .. 

"Well, what could I say to that?. .. I was nonplussed. After a shortinterval of silence, however, I told him that if Bela's father were toclaim her he would have to give her up. 

"'Not at all!'

"'But he will get to know that she is here. '

"'How?'

"Again I was nonplussed. 

"'Listen, Maksim Maksimych, ' said Pechorin, rising to his feet. 'You'rea kind-hearted man, you know; but, if we give that savage back hisdaughter, he will cut her throat or sell her. The deed is done, and theonly thing we can do now is not to go out of our way to spoil matters. Leave Bela with me and keep my sword!'

"'Show her to me, though, ' I said. 

"'She is behind that door. Only I wanted, myself, to see her to-day andwasn't able to. She sits in the corner, muffled in her veil, and neitherspeaks nor looks up--timid as a wild chamois! I have hired the wife ofour dukhan-keeper: she knows the Tartar language, and will look afterBela and accustom her to the idea that she belongs to me--for she shallbelong to no one else!' he added, banging his fist on the table. 

"I assented to that too. .. What could I do? There are some people withwhom you absolutely have to agree. "

"Well?" I asked Maksim Maksimych. "Did he really succeed in makingher grow accustomed to him, or did she pine away in captivity fromhome-sickness?"

"Good gracious! how could she pine away from home-sickness? Fromthe fortress she could see the very same hills as she could from thevillage--and these savages require nothing more. Besides, GrigoriAleksandrovich used to give her a present of some kind every day. Atfirst 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 hereloquence. Ah, presents! What won't a woman do for a coloured rag!. .. But that is by the way. .. For a long time Grigori Aleksandrovichpersevered with her, and meanwhile he studied the Tartar language andshe began to understand ours. Little by little she grew accustomed tolooking at him, at first furtively, askance; but she still pined andcrooned her songs in an undertone, so that even I would feel heavyat heart when I heard her from the next room. One scene I shall neverforget: I was walking past, and I looked in at the window; Bela wassitting on the stove-couch, her head sunk on her breast, and GrigoriAleksandrovich was standing, facing her. 

"'Listen, my Peri, ' he was saying. 'Surely you know that you will haveto be mine sooner or later--why, then, do you but torture me? Is it thatyou are in love with some Chechene? If so, I will let you go home atonce. '

"She gave a scarcely perceptible start and shook her head. 

"'Or is it, ' he continued, 'that I am utterly hateful to you?'

"She heaved a sigh. 

"'Or that your faith prohibits you from giving me a little of yourlove?'

"She turned pale and remained silent. 

"'Believe me, Allah is one and the same for all races; and, if hepermits me to love you, why, then, should he prohibit you from requitingme by returning my love?'

"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. Whateyes they were! They sparkled just like two glowing coals. 

"'Listen, my dear, good Bela!' continued Pechorin. 'You see how I loveyou. 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 shalldie. Tell me, you will be more cheerful?'

"She fell into thought, her black eyes still fixed upon him. Then shesmiled graciously and nodded her head in token of acquiescence. 

"He took her by the hand and tried to induce her to kiss him. Shedefended herself feebly, and only repeated: 'Please! Please! Youmustn't, you mustn't!'

"He went on to insist; she began to tremble and weep. 

"'I am your captive, ' she said, 'your slave; of course, you can compelme. '

"And then, again--tears. 

"Grigori Aleksandrovich struck his forehead with his fist and spranginto the other room. I went in to see him, and found him walking moodilybackwards and forwards with folded arms. 

"'Well, old man?' I said to him. 

"'She is a devil--not a woman!' he answered. 'But I give you my word ofhonour that she shall be mine!'

"I shook my head. 

"'Will you bet with me?' he said. 'In a week's time?'

"'Very well, ' I answered. 

"We shook hands on it and separated. 

"The next day he immediately despatched an express messenger to Kizlyarto purchase some things for him. The messenger brought back a quiteinnumerable quantity of various Persian stuffs. 

"'What think you, Maksim Maksimych?' he said to me, showing thepresents. 'Will our Asiatic beauty hold out against such a battery asthis?'

"'You don't know the Circassian women, ' I answered. 'They are not at allthe same as the Georgian or the Transcaucasian Tartar women--not at all!They have their own principles, they are brought up differently. '

"Grigori Aleksandrovich smiled and began to whistle a march to himself. "

CHAPTER VI

"AS things fell out, however, " continued Maksim Maksimych, "I was right, you see. The presents produced only half an effect. She becamemore gracious more trustful--but that was all. Pechorin accordinglydetermined upon a last expedient. One morning he ordered his horse to besaddled, dressed himself as a Circassian, armed himself, and went intoher room. 

"'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 actedwrongfully towards you, and I must punish myself. Farewell! I am going. Whither?--How should I know? Perchance I shall not have long to courtthe bullet or the sabre-stroke. Then remember me and forgive. '

"He turned away, and stretched out his hand to her in farewell. She didnot take his hand, but remained silent. But I, standing there behind thedoor, was able through a chink to observe her countenance, and I feltsorry for her--such a deathly pallor shrouded that charming little face!Hearing no answer, Pechorin took a few steps towards the door. He wastrembling, and--shall I tell you?--I think that he was in a state toperform in very fact what he had been saying in jest! He was just thatsort of man, Heaven knows!

"He had scarcely touched the door, however, when Bela sprang to herfeet, burst out sobbing, and threw herself on his neck! Would youbelieve it? I, standing there behind the door, fell to weeping too, that is to say, you know, not exactly weeping--but just--well, somethingfoolish!"

The staff-captain became silent. 

"Yes, I confess, " he said after a while, tugging at his moustache, "Ifelt hurt that not one woman had ever loved me like that. "

"Was their happiness lasting?" I asked. 

"Yes, she admitted that, from the day she had first cast eyes onPechorin, she had often dreamed of him, and that no other man had everproduced such an impression upon her. Yes, they were happy!"

"How tiresome!" I exclaimed, involuntarily. 

In point of fact, I had been expecting a tragic ending--when, lo! hemust needs disappoint my hopes in such an unexpected manner!. .. 

"Is it possible, though, " I continued, "that her father did not guessthat she was with you in the fortress?"

"Well, you must know, he seems to have had his suspicions. After a fewdays, we learned that the old man had been murdered. This is how ithappened. ". .. 

My attention was aroused anew. 

"I must tell you that Kazbich imagined that the horse had been stolen byAzamat 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 verstsbeyond the village. The old man was returning from one of his futilesearches for his daughter; his retainers were lagging behind. It wasdusk. Deep in thought, he was riding at a walking pace when, suddenly, Kazbich darted out like a cat from behind a bush, sprang up behindhim 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 wholeaffair from the hill; they dashed off in pursuit of Kazbich, but failedto overtake him. "

"He requited himself for the loss of his horse, and took his revenge atthe same time, " I said, with a view to evoking my companion's opinion. 

"Of course, from their point of view, " said the staff-captain, "he wasperfectly right. "

I was involuntarily struck by the aptitude which the Russian displaysfor accommodating himself to the customs of the people in whose midsthe happens to be living. I know not whether this mental quality isdeserving of censure or commendation, but it proves the incrediblepliancy of his mind and the presence of that clear common sense whichpardons evil wherever it sees that evil is inevitable or impossible ofannihilation. 

CHAPTER VII

IN the meantime we had finished our tea. The horses, which had beenput to long before, were freezing in the snow. In the west the moonwas growing pale, and was just on the point of plunging into the blackclouds which were hanging over the distant summits like the shreds of atorn curtain. We went out of the hut. Contrary to my fellow-traveller'sprediction, the weather had cleared up, and there was a promise ofa calm morning. The dancing choirs of the stars were interwoven inwondrous patterns on the distant horizon, and, one after another, theyflickered 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 andmysterious chasms, and masses of mist, eddying and coiling like snakes, were creeping thither along the furrows of the neighbouring cliffs, asthough sentient and fearful of the approach of day. 

All was calm in heaven and on earth, calm as within the heart of a manat the moment of morning prayer; only at intervals a cool wind rushedin from the east, lifting the horses' manes which were covered withhoar-frost. We started off. The five lean jades dragged our wagons withdifficulty along the tortuous road up Mount Get. We ourselves walkedbehind, placing stones under the wheels whenever the horses were spent. The road seemed to lead into the sky, for, so far as the eye coulddiscern, it still mounted up and up, until finally it was lost in thecloud which, since early evening, had been resting on the summit ofMount Get, like a kite awaiting its prey. The snow crunched under ourfeet. The atmosphere grew so rarefied that to breathe was painful; everand anon the blood rushed to my head, but withal a certain rapturoussensation was diffused throughout my veins and I felt a species ofdelight at being so high up above the world. A childish feeling, Iadmit, but, when we retire from the conventions of society and drawclose to nature, we involuntarily become as children: each attributeacquired by experience falls away from the soul, which becomes anew suchas it was once and will surely be again. He whose lot it has been, asmine has been, to wander over the desolate mountains, long, long toobserve their fantastic shapes, greedily to gulp down the life-givingair diffused through their ravines--he, of course, will understand mydesire to communicate, to narrate, to sketch those magic pictures. 

Well, at length we reached the summit of Mount Gut and, halting, lookedaround us. Upon the mountain a grey cloud was hanging, and its coldbreath threatened the approach of a storm; but in the east everythingwas so clear and golden that we--that is, the staff-captain andI--forgot all about the cloud. .. Yes, the staff-captain too; insimple hearts the feeling for the beauty and grandeur of nature is ahundred-fold stronger and more vivid than in us, ecstatic composers ofnarratives in words and on paper. 

"You have grown accustomed, I suppose, to these magnificent pictures!" Isaid. 

"Yes, sir, you can even grow accustomed to the whistling of a bullet, that is to say, accustomed to concealing the involuntary thumping ofyour heart. "

"I have heard, on the contrary, that many an old warrior actually findsthat music agreeable. "

"Of course, if it comes to that, it is agreeable; but only just becausethe heart beats more violently. Look!" he added, pointing towards theeast. "What a country!"

And, indeed, such a panorama I can hardly hope to see elsewhere. Beneathus lay the Koishaur Valley, intersected by the Aragva and another streamas 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 andthickets; in the distance were the same mountains, which now, however, had the appearance of two cliffs, one like to the other. And all thesesnows were burning in the crimson glow so merrily and so brightly thatit seemed as though one could live in such a place for ever. The sun wasscarcely visible behind the dark-blue mountain, which only a practisedeye could distinguish from a thunder-cloud; but above the sun was ablood-red streak to which my companion directed particular attention. 

"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. --Geton!" he shouted to the drivers. 

Chains were put under the wheels in place of drags, so that they shouldnot slide, the drivers took the horses by the reins, and the descentbegan. On the right was a cliff, on the left a precipice, so deep thatan 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 ofnight, on that very road, where two wagons could not pass, a courierdrives some ten times a year without climbing down from his ricketyvehicle. One of our drivers was a Russian peasant from Yaroslavl, theother, an Ossete. The latter took out the leaders in good time and ledthe shaft-horse by the reins, using every possible precaution--butour heedless compatriot did not even climb down from his box! When Iremarked to him that he might put himself out a bit, at least in theinterests of my portmanteau, for which I had not the slightest desire toclamber down into the abyss, he answered:

"Eh, master, with the help of Heaven we shall arrive as safe and soundas the others; it's not our first time, you know. "

And he was right. We might just as easily have failed to arrive atall; but arrive we did, for all that. And if people would only reason alittle more they would be convinced that life is not worth taking such adeal of trouble about. 

Perhaps, however, you would like to know the conclusion of the storyof Bela? In the first place, this is not a novel, but a collection oftravelling-notes, and, consequently, I cannot make the staff-captaintell 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 donot advise you to do the latter, because the crossing of Mount Krestov(or, as the erudite Gamba calls it, le mont St. Christophe [15]) isworthy of your curiosity. 

Well, then, we descended Mount Gut into the Chertov Valley. .. There'sa romantic designation for you! Already you have a vision of the evilspirit's nest amid the inaccessible cliffs--but you are out of yourreckoning 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 withsnow-drifts, which reminded us rather vividly of Saratov, Tambov, andother charming localities of our fatherland. 

"Look, there is Krestov!" said the staffcaptain, when we had descendedinto the Chertov Valley, as he pointed out a hill covered with a shroudof 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 onlywhen the side-road is obstructed with snow. Our drivers, declaring thatno avalanches had yet fallen, spared the horses by conducting us roundthe mountain. At a turning we met four or five Ossetes, who offeredus their services; and, catching hold of the wheels, proceeded, witha shout, to drag and hold up our cart. And, indeed, it is a dangerousroad; 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 theravine; the narrow road was partly covered with snow, which, in manyplaces, gave way under our feet and, in others, was converted into iceby the action of the sun by day and the frosts by night, so that thehorses kept falling, and it was with difficulty that we ourselvesmade our way. On the left yawned a deep chasm, through which rolled atorrent, now hiding beneath a crust of ice, now leaping and foamingover the black rocks. In two hours we were barely able to double MountKrestov--two versts in two hours! Meanwhile the clouds had descended, hail and snow fell; the wind, bursting into the ravines, howled andwhistled like Nightingale the Robber. [16] Soon the stone cross washidden in the mist, the billows of which, in ever denser and morecompact masses, rushed in from the east. .. 

Concerning that stone cross, by the way, there exists the strange, butwidespread, tradition that it had been set up by the Emperor Peter theFirst 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 theeffect that it had been erected by order of General Ermolov, and thattoo in the year 1824. Nevertheless, the tradition has taken such firmroot, in spite of the inscription, that really you do not know what tobelieve; the more so, as it is not the custom to believe inscriptions. 

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 melodieswere sadder and more melancholy. 

"O Exile, " I thought, "thou art weeping for thy wide, free steppes!There mayest thou unfold thy cold wings, but here thou art stifled andconfined, like an eagle beating his wings, with a shriek, against thegrating of his iron cage!"

"A bad look out, " said the staff-captain. "Look! There's nothing to beseen all round but mist and snow. At any moment we may tumble into anabyss or stick fast in a cleft; and a little lower down, I dare say, theBaidara has risen so high that there is no getting across it. Oh, thisAsia, I know it! Like people, like rivers! There's no trusting them atall!"

The drivers, shouting and cursing, belaboured the horses, whichsnorted, resisted obstinately, and refused to budge on any account, notwithstanding the eloquence of the whips. 

"Your honour, " one of the drivers said to me at length, "you see, wewill never reach Kobi to-day. Won't you give orders to turn to the leftwhile we can? There is something black yonder on the slope--probablyhuts. Travellers always stop there in bad weather, sir. They say, " headded, pointing to the Ossetes, "that they will lead us there if youwill give them a tip. "

"I know that, my friend, I know that without your telling me, " saidthe staff-captain. "Oh, these beasts! They are delighted to seize anypretext for extorting a tip!"

"You must confess, however, " I said, "that we should be worse offwithout them. "

"Just so, just so, " he growled to himself. "I know them well--theseguides! They scent out by instinct a chance of taking advantage ofpeople. As if it was impossible to find the way without them!"

Accordingly we turned aside to the left, and, somehow or other, aftera good deal of trouble, made our way to the wretched shelter, whichconsisted of two huts built of stone slabs and rubble, surrounded by awall of the same material. Our ragged hosts received us with alacrity. Ilearned afterwards that the Government supplies them with money and foodupon condition that they put up travellers who are overtaken by storm. 

CHAPTER VIII

"ALL is for the best, " I said, sitting down close by the fire. "Now youwill finish telling me your story about Bela. I am certain that what youhave already told me was not the end of it. "

"Why are you so certain?" answered the staff-captain, winking andsmiling slyly. 

"Because things don't happen like that. A story with such an unusualbeginning must also have an unusual ending. "

"You have guessed, of course". .. 

"I am very glad to hear it. "

"It is all very well for you to be glad, but, indeed, it makes mesad when I think of it. Bela was a splendid girl. In the end I grewaccustomed to her just as if she had been my own daughter, and she lovedme. I must tell you that I have no family. I have had no news of myfather and mother for twelve years or so, and, in my earlier days, Inever thought of providing myself with a wife--and now, you know, itwouldn't do. So I was glad to have found someone to spoil. She used tosing to us or dance the Lezginka. [17]. . And what a dancer she was! Ihave seen our own ladies in provincial society; and on one occasion, sir, about twenty years ago, I was even in the Nobles' Club atMoscow--but was there a woman to be compared with her? Not one! GrigoriAleksandrovich dressed her up like a doll, petted and pampered her, andit was simply astonishing to see how pretty she grew while she livedwith us. The sunburn disappeared from her face and hands, and a rosycolour came into her cheeks. .. What a merry girl she was! Always makingfun of me, the little rogue!. .. Heaven forgive her!"

"And when you told her of her father's death?"

"We kept it a secret from her for a long time, until she had grownaccustomed to her position; and then, when she was told, she cried for aday or two and forgot all about it. 

"For four months or so everything went on as well as it possiblycould. Grigori Aleksandrovich, as I think I have already mentioned, waspassionately fond of hunting; he was always craving to be off into theforest after boars or wild goats--but now it would be as much as hewould do to go beyond the fortress rampart. All at once, however, I sawthat he was beginning again to have fits of abstraction, walking abouthis room with his hands clasped behind his back. One day after that, without telling anyone, he set off shooting. During the whole morninghe was not to be seen; then the same thing happened another time, and soon--oftener and oftener. .. 

"'This looks bad!' I said to myself. 'Something must have come betweenthem!'

"One morning I paid them a visit--I can see it all in my mind's eye, asif it was happening now. Bela was sitting on the bed, wearing a blacksilk jacket, and looking rather pale and so sad that I was alarmed. 

"'Where is Pechorin?' I asked. 

"'Hunting. '

"'When did he go--to-day?'

"'She was silent, as if she found a difficulty in answering. 

"'No, he has been gone since yesterday, ' she said at length, with aheavy sigh. 

"'Surely nothing has happened to him!'

"'Yesterday I thought and thought the whole day, ' she answered throughher tears; 'I imagined all sorts of misfortunes. At one time I fanciedthat he had been wounded by a wild boar, at another time, that he hadbeen carried off by a Chechene into the mountains. .. But, now, I havecome to think that he no longer loves me. '

"'In truth, my dear girl, you could not have imagined anything worse!'

"She burst out crying; then, proudly raising her head, she wiped awaythe tears and continued:

"'If he does not love me, then who prevents him sending me home? I amnot putting any constraint on him. But, if things go on like this, Iwill go away myself--I am not a slave, I am a prince's daughter!'. .. 

"I tried to talk her over. 

"'Listen, Bela. You see it is impossible for him to stop in here withyou for ever, as if he was sewn on to your petticoat. He is a young manand fond of hunting. Off he'll go, but you will find that he will comeback; and, if you are going to be unhappy, you will soon make him tiredof you. '

"'True, true!' she said. 'I will be merry. '

"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 fellupon the bed again and buried her face in her hands. 

"What could I do with her? You know I have never been accustomed tothe society of women. I thought and thought how to cheer her up, butcouldn't hit on anything. For some time both of us remained silent. .. Amost unpleasant situation, sir!

"At length I said to her:

"'Would you like us to go and take a walk on the rampart? The weather issplendid. '

"This was in September, and indeed it was a wonderful day, bright andnot too hot. The mountains could be seen as clearly as though they werebut a hand's-breadth away. We went, and walked in silence to and froalong 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! Iused to run after her just like a kind of children's nurse!

"Our fortress was situated in a lofty position, and the view from therampart was superb. On one side, the wide clearing, seamed by a fewclefts, was bounded by the forest which stretched out to the very ridgeof the mountains. Here and there, on the clearing, villages were to beseen sending forth their smoke, and there were droves of horses roamingabout. On the other side flowed a tiny stream, and close to its bankscame the dense undergrowth which covered the flinty heights joining theprincipal chain of the Caucasus. We sat in a corner of the bastion, sothat we could see everything on both sides. Suddenly I perceivedsomeone on a grey horse riding out of the forest; nearer and nearer heapproached until finally he stopped on the far side of the river, abouta hundred fathoms from us, and began to wheel his horse round and roundlike one possessed. 'Strange!' I thought. 

"'Look, look, Bela, ' I said, 'you've got young eyes--what sort of ahorseman is that? Who is it he has come to amuse?'. .. 

"'It is Kazbich!' she exclaimed after a glance. 

"'Ah, the robber! Come to laugh at us, has he?'

"I looked closely, and sure enough it was Kazbich, with his swarthyface, and as ragged and dirty as ever. 

"'It is my father's horse!' said Bela, seizing my arm. 

"She was trembling like a leaf and her eyes were sparkling. 

"'Aha!' I said to myself. 'There is robber's blood in your veins still, my dear!'

"'Come here, ' I said to the sentry. 'Look to your gun and unhorse thatgallant for me--and you shall have a silver ruble. '

"'Very well, your honour, only he won't keep still. '

"'Tell him to!' I said, with a laugh. 

"'Hey, friend!' cried the sentry, waving his hand. 'Wait a bit. What areyou spinning round like a humming-top for?'

"Kazbich halted and gave ear to the sentry--probably thinking that wewere going to parley with him. Quite the contrary!. .. My grenadier tookaim. .. Bang!. .. Missed!. .. Just as the powder flashed in the pan Kazbichjogged his horse, which gave a bound to one side. He stood up in hisstirrups, shouted something in his own language, made a threateninggesture with his whip--and was off. 

"'Aren't you ashamed of yourself?' I said to the sentry. 

"'He has gone away to die, your honour, ' he answered. 'There's nokilling a man of that cursed race at one stroke. '

"A quarter of an hour later Pechorin returned from hunting. Belathrew herself on his neck without a single complaint, without a singlereproach for his lengthy absence!. .. Even I was angry with him by thistime!

"'Good heavens!' I said; 'why, I tell you, Kazbich was here on the otherside of the river just a moment ago, and we shot at him. How easilyyou might have run up against him, you know! These mountaineers are avindictive race! Do you suppose he does not guess that you gave Azamatsome help? And I wager that he recognised Bela to-day! I know he wasdesperately fond of her a year ago--he told me so himself--and, if hehad had any hope of getting together a proper bridegroom's gift, hewould certainly have sought her in marriage. '

"At this Pechorin became thoughtful. 

"'Yes, ' he answered. 'We must be more cautious--Bela, from this dayforth you mustn't walk on the rampart any more. '

"In the evening I had a lengthy explanation with him. I was vexed thathis feelings towards the poor girl had changed; to say nothing of hisspending 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. 

"'What are you sighing for, Bela?' I would ask her. 'Are you sad?'

"'No!'

"'Do you want anything?'

"'No!'

"'You are pining for your kinsfolk?'

"'I have none!'

"Sometimes for whole days not a word could be drawn from her but 'Yes'and 'No. '

"So I straightway proceeded to talk to Pechorin about her. "

CHAPTER IX

"'LISTEN, Maksim Maksimych, ' said Pechorin. 'Mine is an unfortunatedisposition; whether it is the result of my upbringing or whether itis innate--I know not. I only know this, that if I am the cause ofunhappiness in others I myself am no less unhappy. Of course, that is apoor 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 guardianshipof my relations, I began madly to enjoy all the pleasures which moneycould buy--and, of course, such pleasures became irksome to me. Then Ilaunched out into the world of fashion--and that, too, soon palled uponme. I fell in love with fashionable beauties and was loved by them, butmy imagination and egoism alone were aroused; my heart remained empty. .. I began to read, to study--but sciences also became utterly wearisome tome. I saw that neither fame nor happiness depends on them in theleast, because the happiest people are the uneducated, and fame is goodfortune, to attain which you have only to be smart. Then I grew bored. .. Soon afterwards I was transferred to the Caucasus; and that wasthe happiest time of my life. I hoped that under the bullets of theChechenes boredom could not exist--a vain hope! In a month I grew soaccustomed to the buzzing of the bullets and to the proximity of deaththat, to tell the truth, I paid more attention to the gnats--and Ibecame more bored than ever, because I had lost what was almost my lasthope. When I saw Bela in my own house; when, for the first time, I heldher on my knee and kissed her black locks, I, fool that I was, thoughtthat she was an angel sent to me by sympathetic fate. .. Again I wasmistaken; the love of a savage is little better than that of your ladyof quality, the barbaric ignorance and simplicity of the one weary youas much as the coquetry of the other. I am not saying that I do not loveher still; I am grateful to her for a few fairly sweet moments; I wouldgive my life for her--only I am bored with her. .. Whether I am a fool ora villain I know not; but this is certain, I am also most deserving ofpity--perhaps more than she. My soul has been spoiled by the world, my imagination is unquiet, my heart insatiate. To me everything is oflittle moment. I become as easily accustomed to grief as to joy, and mylife grows emptier day by day. One expedient only is left to me--travel. 

"'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 diesomewhere on the way. At any rate, I am convinced that, thanks to stormsand bad roads, that last consolation will not quickly be exhausted!'

"For a long time he went on speaking thus, and his words have remainedstamped upon my memory, because it was the first time that I had heardsuch things from a man of five-and-twenty--and Heaven grant it maybe the last. Isn't it astonishing? Tell me, please, " continued thestaff-captain, appealing to me. "You used to live in the Capital, Ithink, and that not so very long ago. Is it possible that the young menthere are all like that?"

I replied that there were a good many people who used the same sortof language, that, probably, there might even be some who spoke in allsincerity; that disillusionment, moreover, like all other vogues, havinghad its beginning in the higher strata of society, had descended to thelower, where it was being worn threadbare, and that, now, those who werereally and truly bored strove to conceal their misfortune as if it werea vice. The staff-captain did not understand these subtleties, shook hishead, and smiled slyly. 

"Anyhow, I suppose it was the French who introduced the fashion?"

"No, the English. "

"Aha, there you are!" he answered. "They always have been arrantdrunkards, you know!"

Involuntarily I recalled to mind a certain lady, living in Moscow, whoused to maintain that Byron was nothing more nor less than a drunkard. However, the staff-captain's observation was more excusable; in order toabstain from strong drink, he naturally endeavoured to convince himselfthat all the misfortunes in the world are the result of drunkenness. 

CHAPTER X

MEANWHILE the staff-captain continued his story. 

"Kazbich never put in an appearance again; but somehow--I don't knowwhy--I could not get the idea out of my head that he had had a reasonfor coming, and that some mischievous scheme was in his mind. 

"Well, one day Pechorin tried to persuade me to go boar-hunting withhim. For a long time I refused. What novelty was a wild boar to me?

"However, off he dragged me, all the same. We took four or five soldiersand set out early in the morning. Up till ten o'clock we scurried aboutthe reeds and the forest--there wasn't a wild beast to be found!

"'I say, oughtn't we to be going back?' I said. 'What's the use ofsticking at it? It is evident enough that we have happened on an unluckyday!'

"But, in spite of heat and fatigue, Pechorin didn't like to returnempty-handed. .. That is just the kind of man he was; whatever he sethis heart on he had to have--evidently, in his childhood, he had beenspoiled by an indulgent mother. At last, at midday, we discovered oneof those cursed wild boars--Bang! Bang!--No good!--Off it went into thereeds. That was an unlucky day, to be sure!. .. So, after a short rest, we set off homeward. .. 

"We rode in silence, side by side, giving the horses their head. We hadalmost reached the fortress, and only the brushwood concealed it fromview. Suddenly a shot rang out. .. We glanced at each other, both struckwith the selfsame suspicion. .. We galloped headlong in the direction ofthe shot, looked, and saw the soldiers clustered together on the rampartand pointing towards a field, along which a rider was flying at fullspeed, holding something white across his saddle. Grigori Aleksandrovichyelled like any Chechene, whipped his gun from its cover, and gavechase--I after him. 

"Luckily, thanks to our unsuccessful hunt, our horses were not jaded;they strained under the saddle, and with every moment we drew nearer andnearer. .. At length I recognised Kazbich, only I could not make out whatit was that he was holding in front of him. 

"Then I drew level with Pechorin and shouted to him:

"'It is Kazbich!'

"He looked at me, nodded, and struck his horse with his whip. 

"At last we were within gunshot of Kazbich. Whether it was that hishorse was jaded or not so good as ours, I don't know, but, in spite ofall his efforts, it did not get along very fast. I fancy at that momenthe remembered his Karagyoz!

"I looked at Pechorin. He was taking aim as he galloped. .. 

"'Don't shoot, ' I cried. 'Save the shot! We will catch up with him as itis. '

"Oh, these young men! Always taking fire at the wrong moment! The shotrang out and the bullet broke one of the horse's hind legs. It gave afew fiery leaps forward, stumbled, and fell to its knees. Kazbich sprangoff, and then we perceived that it was a woman he was holding in hisarms--a woman wrapped in a veil. It was Bela--poor Bela! He shoutedsomething to us in his own language and raised his dagger over her. .. Delay was useless; I fired in my turn, at haphazard. Probably the bulletstruck him in the shoulder, because he dropped his hand suddenly. Whenthe smoke cleared off, we could see the wounded horse lying on theground and Bela beside it; but Kazbich, his gun flung away, wasclambering like a cat up the cliff, through the brushwood. I should haveliked 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 lyingmotionless, and the blood was pouring in streams from her wound. Thevillain! If he had struck her to the heart--well and good, everythingwould at least have been finished there and then; but to stab her inthe back like that--the scoundrel! She was unconscious. We tore theveil into strips and bound up the wound as tightly as we could. In vainPechorin kissed her cold lips--it was impossible to bring her to. 

"Pechorin mounted; I lifted Bela from the ground and somehow managed toplace her before him on his saddle; he put his arm round her and we rodeback. 

"'Look here, Maksim Maksimych, ' said Grigori Aleksandrovich, after a fewmoments of silence. 'We will never bring her in alive like this. '

"'True!' I said, and we put our horses to a full gallop. "

CHAPTER XI

"A CROWD was awaiting us at the fortress gate. Carefully we carried thewounded girl to Pechorin's quarters, and then we sent for the doctor. The latter was drunk, but he came, examined the wound, and announcedthat she could not live more than a day. He was mistaken, though. "

"She recovered?" I asked the staff-captain, seizing him by the arm, andinvoluntarily rejoicing. 

"No, " he replied, "but the doctor was so far mistaken that she lived twodays longer. "

"Explain, though, how Kazbich made off with her!"

"It was like this: in spite of Pechorin's prohibition, she went out ofthe fortress and down to the river. It was a very hot day, you know, andshe 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. Thenhe sprang on his horse and made off. In the meantime she succeeded incrying out, the sentries took the alarm, fired, but wide of the mark;and thereupon we arrived on the scene. "

"But what did Kazbich want to carry her off for?"

"Good gracious! Why, everyone knows these Circassians are a race ofthieves; they can't keep their hands off anything that is left lyingabout! 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 inlove with her for a long time. "

"And Bela died?"

"Yes, she died, but she suffered for a long time, and we were fairlyknocked up with her, I can tell you. About ten o'clock in the eveningshe came to herself. We were sitting by her bed. As soon as ever sheopened her eyes she began to call Pechorin. 

"'I am here beside you, my janechka' (that is, 'my darling'), heanswered, taking her by the hand. 

"'I shall die, ' she said. 

"We began to comfort her, telling her that the doctor had promisedinfallibly to cure her. She shook her little head and turned to thewall--she did not want to die!. .. 

"At night she became delirious, her head burned, at times a feverishparoxysm convulsed her whole body. She talked incoherently about herfather, her brother; she yearned for the mountains, for her home. .. Thenshe spoke of Pechorin also, called him various fond names, or reproachedhim for having ceased to love his janechka. 

"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 hislashes. I do not know whether he was actually unable to weep or wasmastering himself; but for my part I have never seen anything morepitiful. 

"Towards morning the delirium passed off. For an hour or so she laymotionless, pale, and so weak that it was hardly possible to observethat she was breathing. After that she grew better and began to talk:only about what, think you? Such thoughts come only to the dying!. .. Shelamented that she was not a Christian, that in the other world hersoul would never meet the soul of Grigori Aleksandrovich, and that inParadise another woman would be his companion. The thought occurred tome to baptize her before her death. I told her my idea; she looked at meundecidedly, and for a long time was unable to utter a word. Finally sheanswered 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 palecheeks fell in, her eyes grew ever so large, her lips burned. She felta consuming heat within her, as though a red-hot blade was piercing herbreast. 

"The second night came on. We did not close our eyes or leave thebedside. She suffered terribly, and groaned; and directly the pain beganto abate she endeavoured to assure Grigori Aleksandrovich that she feltbetter, tried to persuade him to go to bed, kissed his hand and wouldnot let it out of hers. Before the morning she began to feel the deathagony and to toss about. She knocked the bandage off, and the bloodflowed afresh. When the wound was bound up again she grew quiet for amoment and begged Pechorin to kiss her. He fell on his knees besidethe bed, raised her head from the pillow, and pressed his lips tohers--which were growing cold. She threw her trembling arms closelyround his neck, as if with that kiss she wished to yield up her soulto him. --No, she did well to die! Why, what would have become of her ifGrigori Aleksandrovich had abandoned her? And that is what would havehappened, sooner or later. 

"During half the following day she was calm, silent and docile, howevermuch the doctor tortured her with his fomentations and mixtures. 

"'Good heavens!' I said to him, 'you know you said yourself that she wascertain to die, so what is the good of all these preparations of yours?'

"'Even so, it is better to do all this, ' he replied, 'so that I may havean easy conscience. '

"A pretty conscience, forsooth!

"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 thebed--all to no purpose. I knew that that intolerable thirst was a signof the approaching end, and I told Pechorin so. 

"'Water, water!' she said in a hoarse voice, raising herself up from thebed. 

"Pechorin turned pale as a sheet, seized a glass, filled it, and gaveit to her. I covered my eyes with my hands and began to say a prayer--Ican't remember what. .. Yes, my friend, many a time have I seen peopledie in hospitals or on the field of battle, but this was somethingaltogether different! Still, this one thing grieves me, I must confess:she died without even once calling me to mind. Yet I loved her, I shouldthink, like a father!. .. Well, God forgive her!. .. And, to tell thetruth, what am I that she should have remembered me when she wasdying?. .. 

"As soon as she had drunk the water, she grew easier--but in about threeminutes she breathed her last! We put a looking-glass to her lips--itwas undimmed!

"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 wordand with our hands clasped behind our backs. His face expressed nothingout of the common--and that vexed me. Had I been in his place, I shouldhave died of grief. At length he sat down on the ground in the shade andbegan to draw something in the sand with his stick. More for form's sakethan anything, you know, I tried to console him and began to talk. Heraised his head and burst into a laugh! At that laugh a cold shudder ranthrough me. .. I went away to order a coffin. 

"I confess it was partly to distract my thoughts that I busied myself inthat way. I possessed a little piece of Circassian stuff, and I coveredthe coffin with it, and decked it with some Circassian silver lace whichGrigori Aleksandrovich had bought for Bela herself. 

"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 littlegrave white acacia shrubs and elder-trees have now grown up. Ishould have liked to erect a cross, but that would not have done, youknow--after all, she was not a Christian. "

"And what of Pechorin?" I asked. 

"Pechorin was ill for a long time, and grew thin, poor fellow; butwe never spoke of Bela from that time forth. I saw that it would bedisagreeable to him, so what would have been the use? About three monthslater 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 toldme not long ago that he had returned to Russia--but it was not in thegeneral orders for the corps. Besides, to the like of us news is late incoming. "

Hereupon--probably to drown sad memories--he launched forth into alengthy dissertation on the unpleasantness of learning news a year late. 

I did not interrupt him, nor did I listen. 

In an hour's time a chance of proceeding on our journey presenteditself. The snowstorm subsided, the sky became clear, and we set off. Onthe way I involuntarily let the conversation turn on Bela and Pechorin. 

"You have not heard what became of Kazbich?" I asked. 

"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 whorides about at a walking pace, in a red tunic, under our bullets, andbows politely whenever one hums near him--but it can scarcely be thesame person!". .. 

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 noexpectation 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. .. Ifyou admit that, I shall be fully rewarded for my, perhaps, too lengthystory. 

BOOK II MAKSIM MAKSIMYCH

AFTER parting with Maksim Maksimych, I galloped briskly through thegorges of the Terek and Darial, breakfasted in Kazbek, drank tea inLars, and arrived at Vladikavkaz in time for supper. I spare you adescription of the mountains, as well as exclamations which convey nomeaning, and word-paintings which convey no image--especially tothose who have never been in the Caucasus. I also omit statisticalobservations, which I am quite sure nobody would read. 

I put up at the inn which is frequented by all who travel in thoseparts, and where, by the way, there is no one you can order to roastyour pheasant and cook your cabbage-soup, because the three veteranswho have charge of the inn are either so stupid, or so drunk, that it isimpossible to knock any sense at all out of them. 

I was informed that I should have to stay there three days longer, because the "Adventure" had not yet arrived from Ekaterinograd andconsequently could not start on the return journey. What a misadventure![18]. .. But a bad pun is no consolation to a Russian, and, for the sakeof something to occupy my thoughts, I took it into my head to write downthe story about Bela, which I had heard from Maksim Maksimych--neverimagining that it would be the first link in a long chain of novels: yousee how an insignificant event has sometimes dire results!. .. Perhaps, however, you do not know what the "Adventure" is? It is aconvoy--composed of half a company of infantry, with a cannon--whichescorts baggage-trains through Kabardia from Vladikavkaz toEkaterinograd. 

The first day I found the time hang on my hands dreadfully. Early nextmorning a vehicle drove into the courtyard. .. Aha! Maksim Maksimych!. .. We met like a couple of old friends. I offered to share my own room withhim, and he accepted my hospitality without standing upon ceremony; heeven clapped me on the shoulder and puckered up his mouth by way of asmile--a queer fellow, that!. .. 

Maksim Maksimych was profoundly versed in the culinary art. He roastedthe pheasant astonishingly well and basted it successfully with cucumbersauce. I was obliged to acknowledge that, but for him, I should have hadto remain on a dry-food diet. A bottle of Kakhetian wine helped us toforget 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 daywas damp and cold. We remained silent. What had we to talk about? He hadalready told me all that was of interest about himself and I had nothingto 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 thebank of the Terek, which flowed seaward in an ever-widening stream;farther off rose the dark-blue, jagged wall of the mountains, behindwhich Mount Kazbek gazed forth in his highpriest's hat of white. I tooka mental farewell of them; I felt sorry to leave them. .. 

Thus we sat for a considerable time. The sun was sinking behind the coldsummits and a whitish mist was beginning to spread over the valleys, when the silence was broken by the jingling of the bell of atravelling-carriage and the shouting of drivers in the street. A fewvehicles, accompanied by dirty Armenians, drove into the courtyard ofthe inn, and behind them came an empty travelling-carriage. Its lightmovement, comfortable arrangement, and elegant appearance gave it a kindof foreign stamp. Behind it walked a man with large moustaches. He waswearing 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 andshouted at the coachman it was impossible to mistake his calling. He wasobviously the spoiled servant of an indolent master--something in thenature of a Russian Figaro. 

"Tell me, my good man, " I called to him out of the window. "What isit?--Has the 'Adventure' arrived, eh?"

He gave me a rather insolent glance, straightened his cravat, and turnedaway. An Armenian, who was walking near him, smiled and answered forhim that the "Adventure" had, in fact, arrived, and would start on thereturn journey the following morning. 

"Thank heavens!" said Maksim Maksimych, who had come up to the window atthat moment. "What a wonderful carriage!" he added; "probably it belongsto some official who is going to Tiflis for a judicial inquiry. You cansee 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 wouldshake even an English carriage to bits!--But who could it be? Let us goand find out. "

We went out into the corridor, at the end of which there was an opendoor leading into a side room. The manservant and a driver were draggingportmanteaux into the room. 

"I say, my man!" the staff-captain asked him: "Whose is that marvellouscarriage?--Eh?--A beautiful carriage!"

Without turning round the manservant growled something to himself as heundid a portmanteau. Maksim Maksimych grew angry. 

"I am speaking to you, my friend!" he said, touching the uncivil fellowon the shoulder. 

"Whose carriage?--My master's. "

"And who is your master?"

"Pechorin--"

"What did you say? What? Pechorin?--Great Heavens!. .. Did he not servein the Caucasus?" exclaimed Maksim Maksimych, plucking me by the sleeve. His eyes were sparkling with joy. 

"Yes, he served there, I think--but I have not been with him long. "

"Well! Just so!. .. Just so!. .. Grigori Aleksandrovich?. .. That is hisname, of course? Your master and I were friends, " he added, giving themanservant a friendly clap on the shoulder with such force as to causehim to stagger. 

"Excuse me, sir, you are hindering me, " said the latter, frowning. 

"What a fellow you are, my friend! Why, don't you know, your master andI were bosom friends, and lived together?. .. But where has he put up?"

The servant intimated that Pechorin had stayed to take supper and passthe night at Colonel N----'s. 

"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?. .. Ifyou do, tell him that Maksim Maksimych is here; just say that--he'llknow!--I'll give you half a ruble for a tip!"

The manservant made a scornful face on hearing such a modest promise, but he assured Maksim Maksimych that he would execute his commission. 

"He'll be sure to come running up directly!" said Maksim Maksimych, withan 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----!"

Maksim Maksimych sat down on a little bench outside the gate, and Iwent to my room. I confess that I also was awaiting this Pechorin'sappearance with a certain amount of impatience--although, from thestaff-captain's story, I had formed a by no means favourable idea ofhim. Still, certain traits in his character struck me as remarkable. Inan hour's time one of the old soldiers brought a steaming samovar and ateapot. 

"Won't you have some tea, Maksim Maksimych?" I called out of the window. 

"Thank you. I am not thirsty, somehow. "

"Oh, do have some! It is late, you know, and cold!"

"No, thank you". .. 

"Well, just as you like!"

I began my tea alone. About ten minutes afterwards my old captain camein. 

"You are right, you know; it would be better to have a drop of tea--butI was waiting for Pechorin. His man has been gone a long time now, butevidently something has detained him. "

The staff-captain hurriedly sipped a cup of tea, refused a second, and went off again outside the gate--not without a certain amount ofdisquietude. It was obvious that the old man was mortified by Pechorin'sneglect, the more so because a short time previously he had been tellingme of their friendship, and up to an hour ago had been convinced thatPechorin would come running up immediately on hearing his name. 

It was already late and dark when I opened the window again and began tocall Maksim Maksimych, saying that it was time to go to bed. He mutteredsomething through his teeth. I repeated my invitation--he made noanswer. 

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 haveslept on quietly had not Maksim Maksimych awakened me as he came intothe room. It was then very late. He threw his pipe on the table, beganto walk up and down the room, and to rattle about at the stove. At lasthe lay down, but for a long time he kept coughing, spitting, and tossingabout. 

"The bugs are biting you, are they not?" I asked. 

"Yes, that is it, " he answered, with a heavy sigh. 

I woke early the next morning, but Maksim Maksimych had anticipated me. I found him sitting on the little bench at the gate. 

"I have to go to the Commandant, " he said, "so, if Pechorin comes, please send for me. ". .. 

I gave my promise. He ran off as if his limbs had regained theiryouthful strength and suppleness. 

The morning was fresh and lovely. Golden clouds had massed themselves onthe mountaintops like a new range of aerial mountains. Before the gatea wide square spread out; behind it the bazaar was seething with people, the day being Sunday. Barefooted Ossete boys, carrying wallets ofhoneycomb on their shoulders, were hovering around me. I cursed them;I had other things to think of--I was beginning to share the worthystaff-captain's uneasiness. 

Before ten minutes had passed the man we were awaiting appeared at theend of the square. He was walking with Colonel N. , who accompanied himas far as the inn, said good-bye to him, and then turned back to thefortress. I immediately despatched one of the old soldiers for MaksimMaksimych. 

Pechorin's manservant went out to meet him and informed him that theywere going to put to at once; he handed him a box of cigars, receiveda 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 thegate. I must now draw his portrait for you. 

He was of medium height. His shapely, slim figure and broad shouldersgave evidence of a strong constitution, capable of enduring all thehardships of a nomad life and changes of climates, and of resisting withsuccess both the demoralising effects of life in the Capital and thetempests of the soul. His velvet overcoat, which was covered with dust, was fastened by the two lower buttons only, and exposed to view linen ofdazzling whiteness, which proved that he had the habits of a gentleman. His gloves, soiled by travel, seemed as though made expressly forhis small, aristocratic hand, and when he took one glove off I wasastonished at the thinness of his pale fingers. His gait was carelessand indolent, but I noticed that he did not swing his arms--a sure signof a certain secretiveness of character. These remarks, however, are theresult of my own observations, and I have not the least desire to makeyou blindly believe in them. When he was in the act of seating himselfon the bench his upright figure bent as if there was not a single bonein his back. The attitude of his whole body was expressive of acertain nervous weakness; he looked, as he sat, like one of Balzac'sthirty-year-old coquettes resting in her downy arm-chair after afatiguing ball. From my first glance at his face I should not havesupposed his age to be more than twenty-three, though afterwards I shouldhave put it down as thirty. His smile had something of a child-likequality. His skin possessed a kind of feminine delicacy. His fair hair, naturally curly, most picturesquely outlined his pale and noble brow, onwhich it was only after lengthy observation that traces could be noticedof wrinkles, intersecting each other: probably they showed up moredistinctly in moments of anger or mental disturbance. Notwithstandingthe light colour of his hair, his moustaches and eyebrows were black--asign of breeding in a man, just as a black mane and a black tail in awhite horse. To complete the portrait, I will add that he had a slightlyturned-up nose, teeth of dazzling whiteness, and brown eyes--I must saya few words more about his eyes. 

In the first place, they never laughed when he laughed. Have you nothappened, yourself, to notice the same peculiarity in certain people?. .. It is a sign either of an evil disposition or of deep and constantgrief. From behind his half-lowered eyelashes they shone with a kindof phosphorescent gleam--if I may so express myself--which was not thereflection of a fervid soul or of a playful fancy, but a glitter like tothat of smooth steel, blinding but cold. His glance--brief, but piercingand heavy--left the unpleasant impression of an indiscreet question andmight have seemed insolent had it not been so unconcernedly tranquil. 

It may be that all these remarks came into my mind only after I hadknown some details of his life, and it may be, too, that his appearancewould have produced an entirely different impression upon another; but, as you will not hear of him from anyone except myself, you will haveto rest content, nolens volens, with the description I have given. In conclusion, I will say that, speaking generally, he was a verygood-looking man, and had one of those original types of countenancewhich are particularly pleasing to women. 

The horses were already put to; now and then the bell jingled on theshaft-bow; [19] and the manservant had twice gone up to Pechorin withthe announcement that everything was ready, but still there was no signof Maksim Maksimych. Fortunately Pechorin was sunk in thought as hegazed at the jagged, blue peaks of the Caucasus, and was apparently byno means in a hurry for the road. 

I went up to him. 

"If you care to wait a little longer, " I said, "you will have thepleasure of meeting an old friend. "

"Oh, exactly!" he answered quickly. "They told me so yesterday. Where ishe, though?"

I looked in the direction of the square and there I descried MaksimMaksimych running as hard as he could. In a few moments he was besideus. He was scarcely able to breathe; perspiration was rolling in largedrops from his face; wet tufts of grey hair, escaping from under hiscap, were glued to his forehead; his knees were shaking. .. He was aboutto throw himself on Pechorin's neck, but the latter, rather coldly, though with a smile of welcome, stretched out his hand to him. Fora moment the staffcaptain was petrified, but then eagerly seizedPechorin's hand in both his own. He was still unable to speak. 

"How glad I am to see you, my dear Maksim Maksimych! Well, how are you?"said Pechorin. 

"And. .. Thou. .. You?" [20] murmured the old man, with tears in hiseyes. "What an age it is since I have seen you!. .. But where are you offto?". .. 

"I am going to Persia--and farther. ". .. 

"But surely not immediately?. .. Wait a little, my dear fellow!. .. Surelywe are not going to part at once?. .. What a long time it is since wehave seen each other!". .. 

"It is time for me to go, Maksim Maksimych, " was the reply. 

"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 questionyou about!. .. Well, what of yourself? Have you retired?. .. What?. .. Howhave you been getting along?"

"Getting bored!" answered Pechorin, smiling. 

"You remember the life we led in the fortress? A splendid country forhunting! You were awfully fond of shooting, you know!. .. And Bela?". .. 

Pechorin turned just the slightest bit pale and averted his head. 

"Yes, I remember!" he said, almost immediately forcing a yawn. 

Maksim Maksimych began to beg him to stay with him for a couple of hoursor so longer. 

"We will have a splendid dinner, " he said. "I have two pheasants; andthe Kakhetian wine is excellent here. .. Not what it is in Georgia, ofcourse, but still of the best sort. .. We will have a talk. .. You willtell me about your life in Petersburg. .. Eh?". .. 

"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 thehand. 

The old man knit his brows. He was grieved and angry, although he triedto hide his feelings. 

"Forget!" he growled. "I have not forgotten anything. .. Well, God bewith you!. .. It is not like this that I thought we should meet. "

"Come! That will do, that will do!" said Pechorin, giving him a friendlyembrace. "Is it possible that I am not the same as I used to be?. .. Whatcan we do? Everyone must go his own way. .. Are we ever going to meetagain?--God only knows!"

While saying this he had taken his seat in the carriage, and thecoachman was already gathering up the reins. 

"Wait, wait!" cried Maksim Maksimych suddenly, holding on to thecarriage door. "I was nearly forgetting altogether. Your papers wereleft with me, Grigori Aleksandrovich. .. I drag them about everywhere Igo. .. I thought I should find you in Georgia, but this is where it haspleased Heaven that we should meet. What's to be done with them?". .. 

"Whatever you like!" answered Pechorin. "Good-bye. ". .. 

"So you are off to Persia?. .. But when will you return?" MaksimMaksimych cried after him. 

By this time the carriage was a long way off, but Pechorin made a signwith his hand which might be interpreted as meaning:

"It is doubtful whether I shall return, and there is no reason, either, why I should!"

The jingle of the bell and the clatter of the wheels along the flintyroad had long ceased to be audible, but the poor old man still remainedstanding in the same place, deep in thought. 

"Yes, " he said at length, endeavouring to assume an air of indifference, although from time to time a tear of vexation glistened on hiseyelashes. "Of course we were friends--well, but what are friendsnowadays?. .. 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 hehas become since he has been staying in Petersburg again!. .. Whata carriage!. .. What a quantity of luggage!. .. And such a haughtymanservant too!". .. 

These words were pronounced with an ironical smile. 

"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 isridiculous--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 heshould come to a bad end. .. Yet it can't be otherwise!. .. I always didsay that there is no good to be got out of a man who forgets his oldfriends!". .. 

Hereupon he turned away in order to hide his agitation and proceeded towalk about the courtyard, around his cart, pretending to be examiningthe wheels, whilst his eyes kept filling with tears every moment. 

"Maksim Maksimych, " I said, going up to him, "what papers are these thatPechorin left you?"

"Goodness knows! Notes of some sort". .. 

"What will you do with them?"

"What? I'll have cartridges made of them. "

"Hand them over to me instead. "

He looked at me in surprise, growled something through his teeth, andbegan to rummage in his portmanteau. Out he drew a writing-book andthrew it contemptuously on the ground; then a second--a third--a tenthshared the same fate. There was something childish in his vexation, andit struck me as ridiculous and pitiable. .. 

"Here they are, " he said. "I congratulate you on your find!". .. 

"And I may do anything I like with them?"

"Yes, print them in the newspapers, if you like. What is it to me? AmI a friend or relation of his? It is true that for a long time we livedunder one roof. .. But aren't there plenty of people with whom I havelived?". .. 

I seized the papers and lost no time in carrying them away, fearing thatthe staff-captain might repent his action. Soon somebody came to tellus that the "Adventure" would set off in an hour's time. I ordered thehorses to be put to. 

I had already put my cap on when the staffcaptain entered the room. Apparently he had not got ready for departure. His manner was somewhatcold and constrained. 

"You are not going, then, Maksim Maksimych?"

"No, sir!"

"But why not?"

"Well, I have not seen the Commandant yet, and I have to deliver someGovernment things. "

"But you did go, you know. "

"I did, of course, " he stammered, "but he was not at home. .. And I didnot wait. "

I understood. For the first time in his life, probably, the poor old manhad, to speak by the book, thrown aside official business 'for the sakeof his personal requirements'. .. And how he had been rewarded!

"I am very sorry, Maksim Maksimych, very sorry indeed, " I said, "that wemust part sooner than necessary. "

"What should we rough old men be thinking of to run after you? You youngmen are fashionable and proud: under the Circassian bullets you arefriendly enough with us. .. But when you meet us afterwards you areashamed even to give us your hand!"

"I have not deserved these reproaches, Maksim Maksimych. "

"Well, but you know I'm quite right. However, I wish you all good luckand a pleasant journey. "

We took a rather cold farewell of each other. The kind-hearted MaksimMaksimych 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 throwhimself on his neck! Sad it is to see when a young man loses his besthopes and dreams, when from before his eyes is withdrawn the rose-huedveil through which he has looked upon the deeds and feelings of mankind;although there is the hope that the old illusions will be replaced bynew ones, none the less evanescent, but, on the other hand, none theless sweet. But wherewith can they be replaced when one is at the ageof Maksim Maksimych? Do what you will, the heart hardens and the soulshrinks in upon itself. 

I departed--alone. 

FOREWORD TO BOOKS III, IV, AND V

CONCERNING PECHORIN'S DIARY

I LEARNED not long ago that Pechorin had died on his way back fromPersia. The news afforded me great delight; it gave me the right toprint these notes; and I have taken advantage of the opportunity ofputting my name at the head of another person's productions. Heavengrant that my readers may not punish me for such an innocent deception!

I must now give some explanation of the reasons which have induced me tobetray to the public the inmost secrets of a man whom I never knew. If Ihad even been his friend, well and good: the artful indiscretion of thetrue friend is intelligible to everybody; but I only saw Pechorinonce in my life--on the high-road--and, consequently, I cannot cherishtowards him that inexplicable hatred, which, hiding its face under themask of friendship, awaits but the death or misfortune of the belovedobject to burst over its head in a storm of reproaches, admonitions, scoffs and regrets. 

On reading over these notes, I have become convinced of the sincerityof the man who has so unsparingly exposed to view his own weaknesses andvices. The history of a man's soul, even the pettiest soul, is hardlyless interesting and useful than the history of a whole people;especially when the former is the result of the observations of a maturemind upon itself, and has been written without any egoistical desire ofarousing sympathy or astonishment. Rousseau's Confessions has preciselythis defect--he read it to his friends. 

And, so, it is nothing but the desire to be useful that has constrainedme to print fragments of this diary which fell into my hands by chance. Although I have altered all the proper names, those who are mentionedin it will probably recognise themselves, and, it may be, will find somejustification for actions for which they have hitherto blamed a man whohas ceased henceforth to have anything in common with this world. Wealmost always excuse that which we understand. 

I have inserted in this book only those portions of the diary whichrefer to Pechorin's sojourn in the Caucasus. There still remains inmy hands a thick writing-book in which he tells the story of his wholelife. Some time or other that, too, will present itself before thetribunal of the world, but, for many and weighty reasons, I do notventure to take such a responsibility upon myself now. 

Possibly some readers would like to know my own opinion of Pechorin'scharacter. My answer is: the title of this book. "But that is maliciousirony!" they will say. .. I know not. 

BOOK III THE FIRST EXTRACT FROM PECHORIN'S DIARY

TAMAN

TAMAN is the nastiest little hole of all the seaports of Russia. I wasall but starved there, to say nothing of having a narrow escape of beingdrowned. 

I arrived late at night by the post-car. The driver stopped the tiredtroika [21] at the gate of the only stone-built house that stood at theentrance to the town. The sentry, a Cossack from the Black Sea, hearingthe jingle of the bell, cried out, sleepily, in his barbarous voice, "Who goes there?" An under-officer of Cossacks and a headborough [22]came out. I explained that I was an officer bound for the active-servicedetachment on Government business, and I proceeded to demand officialquarters. The headborough conducted us round the town. Whatever hut wedrove up to we found to be occupied. The weather was cold; I had notslept for three nights; I was tired out, and I began to lose my temper. 

"Take me somewhere or other, you scoundrel!" I cried; "to the devilhimself, so long as there's a place to put up at!"

"There is one other lodging, " answered the headborough, scratching hishead. "Only you won't like it, sir. It is uncanny!"

Failing to grasp the exact signification of the last phrase, I orderedhim 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 toa small cabin, right on the shore of the sea. 

The full moon was shining on the little reed-thatched roof and the whitewalls of my new dwelling. In the courtyard, which was surrounded by awall of rubble-stone, there stood another miserable hovel, smaller andolder than the first and all askew. The shore descended precipitouslyto the sea, almost from its very walls, and down below, with incessantmurmur, plashed the dark-blue waves. The moon gazed softly upon thewatery element, restless but obedient to it, and I was able by its lightto distinguish two ships lying at some distance from the shore, theirblack rigging motionless and standing out, like cobwebs, against thepale line of the horizon. 

"There are vessels in the harbour, " I said to myself. "To-morrow I willset out for Gelenjik. "

I had with me, in the capacity of soldier-servant, a Cossack of thefrontier army. Ordering him to take down the portmanteau and dismissthe driver, I began to call the master of the house. No answer! Iknocked--all was silent within!. .. What could it mean? At length a boyof about fourteen crept out from the hall. 

"Where is the master?"

"There isn't one. "

"What! No master?"

"None!"

"And the mistress?"

"She has gone off to the village. "

"Who will open the door for me, then?" I said, giving it a kick. 

The door opened of its own accord, and a breath of moisture-laden airwas wafted from the hut. I struck a lucifer match and held it to theboy's face. It lit up two white eyes. He was totally blind, obviously sofrom birth. He stood stock-still before me, and I began to examine hisfeatures. 

I confess that I have a violent prejudice against all blind, one-eyed, deaf, dumb, legless, armless, hunchbacked, and such-like people. I haveobserved that there is always a certain strange connection between aman's exterior and his soul; as, if when the body loses a limb, the soulalso loses some power of feeling. 

And so I began to examine the blind boy's face. But what could be readupon a face from which the eyes are missing?. .. For a long time I gazedat him with involuntary compassion, when suddenly a scarcely perceptiblesmile flitted over his thin lips, producing, I know not why, a mostunpleasant impression upon me. I began to feel a suspicion that theblind boy was not so blind as he appeared to be. In vain I endeavouredto convince myself that it was impossible to counterfeit cataracts; andbesides, what reason could there be for doing such a thing? But I couldnot help my suspicions. I am easily swayed by prejudice. .. 

"You are the master's son?" I asked at length. 

"No. "

"Who are you, then?"

"An orphan--a poor boy. "

"Has the mistress any children?"

"No, her daughter ran away and crossed the sea with a Tartar. "

"What sort of a Tartar?"

"The devil only knows! A Crimean Tartar, a boatman from Kerch. "

I entered the hut. Its whole furniture consisted of two benches and atable, together with an enormous chest beside the stove. There was nota single ikon to be seen on the wall--a bad sign! The sea-wind burstin through the broken window-pane. I drew a wax candle-end from myportmanteau, lit it, and began to put my things out. My sabre and gunI placed in a corner, my pistols I laid on the table. I spread my feltcloak out on one bench, and the Cossack his on the other. In ten minutesthe latter was snoring, but I could not go to sleep--the image of theboy with the white eyes kept hovering before me in the dark. 

About an hour passed thus. The moon shone in at the window and its raysplayed along the earthen floor of the hut. Suddenly a shadow flittedacross the bright strip of moonshine which intersected the floor. Iraised myself up a little and glanced out of the window. Again somebodyran by it and disappeared--goodness knows where! It seemed impossiblefor anyone to descend the steep cliff overhanging the shore, but thatwas 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 passedby me with a sure but cautious step. He was carrying a parcel underhis arm. He turned towards the harbour and began to descend a steep andnarrow path. 

"On that day the dumb will cry out and the blind will see, " I said tomyself, following him just close enough to keep him in sight. 

Meanwhile the moon was becoming overcast by clouds and a mist had risenupon the sea. The lantern alight in the stern of a ship close at handwas scarcely visible through the mist, and by the shore there glimmeredthe foam of the waves, which every moment threatened to submerge it. Descending with difficulty, I stole along the steep declivity, and allat once I saw the blind boy come to a standstill and then turn down tothe right. He walked so close to the water's edge that it seemed as ifthe waves would straightway seize him and carry him off. But, judging bythe confidence with which he stepped from rock to rock and avoided thewater-channels, this was evidently not the first time that he had madethat 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 watchon his movements. After a few minutes a white figure made its appearancefrom the opposite direction. It came up to the blind boy and sat downbeside him. At times the wind wafted their conversation to me. 

"Well?" said a woman's voice. "The storm is violent; Yanko will not behere. "

"Yanko is not afraid of the storm!" the other replied. 

"The mist is thickening, " rejoined the woman's voice, sadness in itstone. 

"In the mist it is all the easier to slip past the guardships, " was theanswer. 

"And if he is drowned?"

"Well, what then? On Sunday you won't have a new ribbon to go to churchin. "

An interval of silence followed. One thing, however, struck me--intalking to me the blind boy spoke in the Little Russian dialect, but nowhe was expressing himself in pure Russian. 

"You see, I am right!" the blind boy went on, clapping his hands. "Yankois 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 longoars. "

The woman sprang up and began anxiously to gaze into the distance. 

"You are raving!" she said. "I cannot see anything. "

I confess that, much as I tried to make out in the distance somethingresembling a boat, my efforts were unsuccessful. About ten minutespassed thus, when a black speck appeared between the mountains of thewaves! At one time it grew larger, at another smaller. Slowly risingupon the crests of the waves and swiftly descending from them, the boatdrew near to the shore. 

"He must be a brave sailor, " I thought, "to have determined to crossthe twenty versts of strait on a night like this, and he must have had aweighty reason for doing so. "

Reflecting thus, I gazed with an involuntary beating of the heart atthe poor boat. It dived like a duck, and then, with rapidly swingingoars--like wings--it sprang forth from the abyss amid the splashes ofthe foam. "Ah!" I thought, "it will be dashed against the shore with allits force and broken to pieces!" But it turned aside adroitly and leapedunharmed 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 towork to drag something out of the boat. The cargo was so large that, tothis day, I cannot understand how it was that the boat did not sink. 

Each of them shouldered a bundle, and they set off along the shore, andI soon lost sight of them. I had to return home; but I confess I wasrendered uneasy by all these strange happenings, and I found it hard toawait the morning. 

My Cossack was very much astonished when, on waking up, he saw me fullydressed. I did not, however, tell him the reason. For some time I stoodat the window, gazing admiringly at the blue sky all studded with wispsof cloud, and at the distant shore of the Crimea, stretching out in alilac-coloured streak and ending in a cliff, on the summit of which thewhite tower of the lighthouse was gleaming. Then I betook myself to thefortress, Phanagoriya, in order to ascertain from the Commandant at whathour I should depart for Gelenjik. 

But the Commandant, alas! could not give me any definite information. The vessels lying in the harbour were all either guard-ships ormerchant-vessels which had not yet even begun to take in lading. 

"Maybe in about three or four days' time a mail-boat will come in, " saidthe Commandant, "and then we shall see. "

I returned home sulky and wrathful. My Cossack met me at the door with afrightened countenance. 

"Things are looking bad, sir!" he said. 

"Yes, my friend; goodness only knows when we shall get away!"

Hereupon he became still more uneasy, and, bending towards me, he saidin a whisper:

"It is uncanny here! I met an under-officer from the Black Seato-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 ofa blind boy is that? He goes everywhere alone, to fetch water and to buybread at the bazaar. It is evident they have become accustomed to thatsort of thing here. "

"Well, what then? Tell me, though, has the mistress of the place put inan appearance?"

"During your absence to-day, an old woman and her daughter arrived. "

"What daughter? She has no daughter!"

"Goodness knows who it can be if it isn't her daughter; but the oldwoman is sitting over there in the hut now. "

I entered the hovel. A blazing fire was burning in the stove, and theywere cooking a dinner which struck me as being a rather luxurious onefor poor people. To all my questions the old woman replied that she wasdeaf and could not hear me. There was nothing to be got out of her. Iturned to the blind boy who was sitting in front of the stove, puttingtwigs into the fire. 

"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?"

The blind boy suddenly burst out weeping, shrieking and wailing. 

"Where did I go? I did not go anywhere. .. With the bundle?. .. Whatbundle?"

This time the old woman heard, and she began to mutter:

"Hark at them plotting, and against a poor boy too! What are youtouching him for? What has he done to you?"

I had enough of it, and went out, firmly resolved to find the key to theriddle. 

I wrapped myself up in my felt cloak and, sitting down on a rock by thefence, gazed into the distance. Before me stretched the sea, agitatedby the storm of the previous night, and its monotonous roar, like themurmur of a town over which slumber is beginning to creep, recalledbygone years to my mind, and transported my thoughts northward to ourcold Capital. Agitated by my recollections, I became oblivious of mysurroundings. 

About an hour passed thus, perhaps even longer. Suddenly somethingresembling a song struck upon my ear. It was a song, and the voice was awoman's, young and fresh--but, where was it coming from?. .. I listened;it was a harmonious melody--now long-drawnout and plaintive, now swiftand lively. I looked around me--there was nobody to be seen. I listenedagain--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 dressand with her hair hanging loose--a regular water-nymph. Shading her eyesfrom the sun's rays with the palm of her hand, she was gazing intentlyinto the distance. At one time, she would laugh and talk to herself, atanother, she would strike up her song anew. 

I have retained that song in my memory, word for word:

 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. 

 And among those ships

 My eye can mark

 My own dear barque:

 By two oars guided

 (All unprovided

 With sails) it slips. 

 The storm-wind raves:

 And the old ships--see!

 With wings spread free, Over the waves

 They scatter and flee!

 The sea I will hail

 With obeisance deep:

 "Thou base one, hark!

 Thou must not fail

 My little barque

 From harm to keep!"

 For lo! 'tis bearing

 Most precious gear, And brave and daring

 The arms that steer

 Within the dark

 My little barque. 

Involuntarily the thought occurred to me that I had heard the same voicethe night before. I reflected for a moment, and when I looked up at theroof 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 upto the old woman. Thereupon a quarrel arose between them. The oldwoman grew angry, and the girl laughed loudly. And then I saw my Undinerunning and gambolling again. She came up to where I was, stopped, andgazed fixedly into my face as if surprised at my presence. Then sheturned carelessly away and went quietly towards the harbour. But thiswas not all. The whole day she kept hovering around my lodging, singingand gambolling without a moment's interruption. Strange creature! Therewas not the slightest sign of insanity in her face; on the contrary, hereyes, which were continually resting upon me, were bright and piercing. Moreover, they seemed to be endowed with a certain magnetic power, andeach 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 asly smile. 

Certainly never before had I seen a woman like her. She was by no meansbeautiful; but, as in other matters, I have my own prepossessions on thesubject of beauty. There was a good deal of breeding in her. .. Breedingin women, as in horses, is a great thing: a discovery, the credit ofwhich belongs to young France. It--that is to say, breeding, not youngFrance--is chiefly to be detected in the gait, in the hands and feet;the nose, in particular, is of the greatest significance. In Russia astraight nose is rarer than a small foot. 

My songstress appeared to be not more than eighteen years of age. Theunusual suppleness of her figure, the characteristic and original wayshe had of inclining her head, her long, light-brown hair, the goldensheen of her slightly sunburnt neck and shoulders, and especially herstraight nose--all these held me fascinated. Although in her sidelongglances I could read a certain wildness and disdain, although inher smile there was a certain vagueness, yet--such is the force ofpredilections--that straight nose of hers drove me crazy. I fanciedthat I had found Goethe's Mignon--that queer creature of his Germanimagination. And, indeed, there was a good deal of similarity betweenthem; the same rapid transitions from the utmost restlessness tocomplete immobility, the same enigmatical speeches, the same gambols, the same strange songs. 

Towards evening I stopped her at the door and entered into the followingconversation with her. 

"Tell me, my beauty, " I asked, "what were you doing on the roof to-day?"

"I was looking to see from what direction the wind was blowing. "

"What did you want to know for?"

"Whence the wind blows comes happiness. "

"Well? Were you invoking happiness with your song?"

"Where there is singing there is also happiness. "

"But what if your song were to bring you sorrow?"

"Well, what then? Where things won't be better, they will be worse; andfrom bad to good again is not far. "

"And who taught you that song?"

"Nobody taught me; it comes into my head and I sing; whoever is tohear it, he will hear it, and whoever ought not to hear it, he will notunderstand it. "

"What is your name, my songstress?"

"He who baptized me knows. "

"And who baptized you?"

"How should I know?"

"What a secretive girl you are! But look here, I have learned somethingabout you"--she neither changed countenance nor moved her lips, asthough my discovery was of no concern to her--"I have learned that youwent to the shore last night. "

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 outlaughing heartily. 

"You have seen much, but know little; and what you do know, see that youkeep it under lock and key. "

"But supposing, now, I was to take it into my head to inform theCommandant?" and here I assumed a very serious, not to say stern, demeanour. 

She gave a sudden spring, began to sing, and hid herself like a birdfrightened out of a thicket. My last words were altogether out of place. I had no suspicion then how momentous they were, but afterwards I hadoccasion to rue them. 

As soon as the dusk of evening fell, I ordered the Cossack to heat theteapot, campaign fashion. I lighted a candle and sat down by the table, smoking my travelling-pipe. I was just about to finish my second tumblerof tea when suddenly the door creaked and I heard behind me the sound offootsteps and the light rustle of a dress. I started and turned round. 

It was she--my Undine. Softly and without saying a word she sat downopposite to me and fixed her eyes upon me. Her glance seemed wondrouslytender, 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 bewaiting for a question, but I kept silence, filled with an inexplicablesense of embarrassment. Mental agitation was evinced by the dullpallor which overspread her countenance; her hand, which I noticed wastrembling slightly, moved aimlessly about the table. At one time herbreast heaved, and at another she seemed to be holding her breath. Thislittle comedy was beginning to pall upon me, and I was about to breakthe silence in a most prosaic manner, that is, by offering her a glassof tea; when suddenly, springing up, she threw her arms around my neck, and I felt her moist, fiery lips pressed upon mine. Darkness came beforemy eyes, my head began to swim. I embraced her with the whole strengthof youthful passion. But, like a snake, she glided from between my arms, whispering in my ear as she did so:

"To-night, when everyone is asleep, go out to the shore. "

Like an arrow she sprang from the room. 

In the hall she upset the teapot and a candle which was standing on thefloor. 

"Little devil!" cried the Cossack, who had taken up his position on thestraw and had contemplated warming himself with the remains of the tea. 

It was only then that I recovered my senses. 

In about two hours' time, when all had grown silent in the harbour, Iawakened my Cossack. 

"If I fire a pistol, " I said, "run to the shore. "

He stared open-eyed and answered mechanically:

"Very well, sir. "

I stuffed a pistol in my belt and went out. She was waiting for meat the edge of the cliff. Her attire was more than light, and a smallkerchief girded her supple waist. 

"Follow me!" she said, taking me by the hand, and we began to descend. 

I cannot understand how it was that I did not break my neck. Down belowwe turned to the right and proceeded to take the path along which I hadfollowed the blind boy the evening before. The moon had not yet risen, and only two little stars, like two guardian lighthouses, were twinklingin the dark-blue vault of heaven. The heavy waves, with measured andeven motion, rolled one after the other, scarcely lifting the solitaryboat which was moored to the shore. 

"Let us get into the boat, " said my companion. 

I hesitated. I am no lover of sentimental trips on the sea; but this wasnot 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 wereadrift. 

"What is the meaning of this?" I said angrily. 

"It means, " she answered, seating me on the bench and throwing her armsaround my waist, "it means that I love you!". .. 

Her cheek was pressed close to mine, and I felt her burning breath uponmy face. Suddenly something fell noisily into the water. I clutched atmy belt--my pistol was gone! Ah, now a terrible suspicion crept intomy soul, and the blood rushed to my head! I looked round. We were aboutfifty fathoms from the shore, and I could not swim a stroke! I triedto 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 boatrocked, but I righted myself, and a desperate struggle began. 

Fury lent me strength, but I soon found that I was no match for myopponent in point of agility. .. 

"What do you want?" I cried, firmly squeezing her little hands. 

Her fingers crunched, but her serpent-like nature bore up against thetorture, and she did not utter a cry. 

"You saw us, " she answered. "You will tell on us. "

And, with a supernatural effort, she flung me on to the side of theboat; we both hung half overboard; her hair touched the water. Thedecisive moment had come. I planted my knee against the bottom of theboat, caught her by the tresses with one hand and by the throat with theother; she let go my clothes, and, in an instant, I had thrown her intothe waves. 

It was now rather dark; once or twice her head appeared for an instantamidst the sea foam, and I saw no more of her. 

I found the half of an old oar at the bottom of the boat, and somehow orother, after lengthy efforts, I made fast to the harbour. Making my wayalong the shore towards my hut, I involuntarily gazed in the directionof the spot where, on the previous night, the blind boy had awaited thenocturnal mariner. The moon was already rolling through the sky, and itseemed to me that somebody in white was sitting on the shore. Spurred bycuriosity, I crept up and crouched down in the grass on the top of thecliff. By thrusting my head out a little way I was able to get a goodview of everything that was happening down below, and I was not verymuch astonished, but almost rejoiced, when I recognised my water-nymph. She was wringing the seafoam from her long hair. Her wet garmentoutlined her supple figure and her high bosom. 

Soon a boat appeared in the distance; it drew near rapidly; and, as onthe night before, a man in a Tartar cap stepped out of it, but he nowhad his hair cropped round in the Cossack fashion, and a large knife wassticking out behind his leather belt. 

"Yanko, " the girl said, "all is lost!"

Then their conversation continued, but so softly that I could not catcha word of it. 

"But where is the blind boy?" said Yanko at last, raising his voice. 

"I have told him to come, " was the reply. 

After a few minutes the blind boy appeared, dragging on his back a sack, which they placed in the boat. 

"Listen!" said Yanko to the blind boy. "Guard that place! You know whereI mean? There are valuable goods there. Tell"--I could not catch thename--"that I am no longer his servant. Things have gone badly. He willsee me no more. It is dangerous now. I will go seek work in anotherplace, 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, Iwould not have forsaken him. For me there is a way anywhere, if only thewind blows and the sea roars. "

After a short silence Yanko continued. 

"She is coming with me. It is impossible for her to remain here. Tellthe old woman that it is time for her to die; she has been here a longtime, and the line must be drawn somewhere. As for us, she will neversee us any more. "

"And I?" said the blind boy in a plaintive voice. 

"What use have I for you?" was the answer. 

In the meantime my Undine had sprung into the boat. She beckoned to hercompanion with her hand. He placed something in the blind boy's hand andadded:

"There, buy yourself some gingerbreads. "

"Is this all?" said the blind boy. 

"Well, here is some more. "

The money fell and jingled as it struck the rock. 

The blind boy did not pick it up. Yanko took his seat in the boat; thewind was blowing from the shore; they hoisted the little sail and spedrapidly away. For a long time the white sail gleamed in the moonlightamid the dark waves. Still the blind boy remained seated upon the shore, and then I heard something which sounded like sobbing. The blind boywas, in fact, weeping, and for a long, long time his tears flowed. .. Igrew heavy-hearted. For what reason should fate have thrown me into thepeaceful circle of honourable smugglers? Like a stone cast into a smoothwell, I had disturbed their quietude, and I barely escaped going to thebottom like a stone. 

I returned home. In the hall the burnt-out candle was spluttering ona 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 wasthen that I guessed what articles the cursed blind boy had been draggingalong. Roughly shaking the Cossack, I woke him up, rated him, and lostmy temper. But what was the good of that? And would it not have beenridiculous to complain to the authorities that I had been robbed by ablind boy and all but drowned by an eighteen-year-old girl?

Thank heaven an opportunity of getting away presented itself in themorning, and I left Taman. 

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, atravelling officer, and one, moreover, with an order for post-horses onGovernment business?

BOOK IV THE SECOND EXTRACT FROM PECHORIN'S DIARY

THE FATALIST

I ONCE happened to spend a couple of weeks in a Cossack village on ourleft flank. A battalion of infantry was stationed there; and it was thecustom of the officers to meet at each other's quarters in turn and playcards in the evening. 

On one occasion--it was at Major S----'s--finding our game of Boston notsufficiently absorbing, we threw the cards under the table and saton for a long time, talking. The conversation, for once in a way, wasinteresting. The subject was the Mussulman tradition that a man's fateis written in heaven, and we discussed the fact that it was gaining manyvotaries, even amongst our own countrymen. Each of us related variousextraordinary occurrences, pro or contra. 

"What you have been saying, gentlemen, proves nothing, " said the oldmajor. "I presume there is not one of you who has actually been awitness of the strange events which you are citing in support of youropinions?"

"Not one, of course, " said many of the guests. "But we have heard ofthem from trustworthy people. ". .. 

"It is all nonsense!" someone said. "Where are the trustworthy peoplewho have seen the Register in which the appointed hour of our death isrecorded?. .. And if predestination really exists, why are free willand reason granted us? Why are we obliged to render an account of ouractions?"

At that moment an officer who was sitting in a corner of the room stoodup, and, coming slowly to the table, surveyed us all with a quiet andsolemn glance. He was a native of Servia, as was evident from his name. 

The outward appearance of Lieutenant Vulich was quite in keeping withhis character. His height, swarthy complexion, black hair, piercingblack eyes, large but straight nose--an attribute of his nation--and thecold and melancholy smile which ever hovered around his lips, all seemedto concur in lending him the appearance of a man apart, incapable ofreciprocating the thoughts and passions of those whom fate gave him forcompanions. 

He was brave; talked little, but sharply; confided his thoughts andfamily secrets to no one; drank hardly a drop of wine; and never dangledafter the young Cossack girls, whose charm it is difficult to realisewithout having seen them. It was said, however, that the colonel'swife was not indifferent to those expressive eyes of his; but he wasseriously angry if any hint on the subject was made. 

There was only one passion which he did not conceal--the passion forgambling. At the green table he would become oblivious of everything. Heusually 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 upand rushed to arms. 

"Stake, va banque!" he cried to one of the most ardent gamblers. 

"Seven, " the latter answered as he hurried off. 

Notwithstanding the general confusion, Vulich calmly finished thedeal--seven was the card. By the time he reached the cordon a violentfusillade was in progress. Vulich did not trouble himself about thebullets or the sabres of the Chechenes, but sought for the luckygambler. 

"Seven it was!" he cried out, as at length he perceived him in thecordon of skirmishers who were beginning to dislodge the enemy from thewood; and going up to him, he drew out his purse and pocket-book andhanded them to the winner, notwithstanding the latter's objections onthe score of the inconvenience of the payment. That unpleasant dutydischarged, Vulich dashed forward, carried the soldiers along after him, and, to the very end of the affair, fought the Chechenes with the utmostcoolness. 

When Lieutenant Vulich came up to the table, we all became silent, expecting to hear, as usual, something original. 

"Gentlemen!" he said--and his voice was quiet though lower in tone thanusual--"gentlemen, what is the good of futile discussions? You wish forproofs? I propose that we try the experiment on ourselves: whether a mancan of his own accord dispose of his life, or whether the fateful momentis appointed beforehand for each of us. Who is agreeable?"

"Not I. Not I, " came from all sides. 

"There's a queer fellow for you! He does get strange ideas into hishead!"

"I propose a wager, " I said in jest. 

"What sort of wager?"

"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. 

"Done, " answered Vulich in a hollow voice. "Major, you will be judge. Here are fifteen ducats, the remaining five you owe me, kindly add themto the others. "

"Very well, " said the major; "though, indeed, I do not understand whatis the question at issue and how you will decide it!"

Without a word Vulich went into the major's bedroom, and we followedhim. 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 severalof different calibres. We were still in the dark as to what he meantto do. But, when he cocked the pistol and sprinkled powder in the pan, several of the officers, crying out in spite of themselves, seized himby the arms. 

"What are you going to do?" they exclaimed. "This is madness!"

"Gentlemen!" he said slowly, disengaging his arm. "Who would like to paytwenty ducats for me?"

They were silent and drew away. 

Vulich went into the other room and sat by the table; we all followedhim. With a sign he invited us to sit round him. We obeyed insilence--at that moment he had acquired a certain mysterious authorityover us. I stared fixedly into his face; but he met my scrutinisinggaze with a quiet and steady glance, and his pallid lips smiled. But, notwithstanding his composure, it seemed to me that I could read thestamp of death upon his pale countenance. I have noticed--and many oldsoldiers have corroborated my observation--that a man who is to die ina few hours frequently bears on his face a certain strange stamp ofinevitable fate, so that it is difficult for practised eyes to bemistaken. 

"You will die to-day!" I said to Vulich. 

He turned towards me rapidly, but answered slowly and quietly:

"May be so, may be not. ". .. 

Then, addressing himself to the major, he asked:

"Is the pistol loaded?"

The major, in the confusion, could not quite remember. 

"There, that will do, Vulich!" exclaimed somebody. "Of course it must beloaded, if it was one of those hanging on the wall there over our heads. What a man you are for joking!"

"A silly joke, too!" struck in another. 

"I wager fifty rubles to five that the pistol is not loaded!" cried athird. 

A new bet was made. 

I was beginning to get tired of it all. 

"Listen, " I said, "either shoot yourself, or hang up the pistol in itsplace and let us go to bed. "

"Yes, of course!" many exclaimed. "Let us go to bed. "

"Gentlemen, I beg of you not to move, " said Vulich, putting the muzzleof the pistol to his forehead. 

We were all petrified. 

"Mr. Pechorin, " he added, "take a card and throw it up in the air. "

I took, as I remember now, an ace of hearts off the table and threwit into the air. All held their breath. With eyes full of terror anda certain vague curiosity they glanced rapidly from the pistol to thefateful ace, which slowly descended, quivering in the air. At the momentit touched the table Vulich pulled the trigger. .. A flash in the pan!

"Thank God!" many exclaimed. "It wasn't loaded!"

"Let us see, though, " said Vulich. 

He cocked the pistol again, and took aim at a forage-cap which washanging above the window. A shot rang out. Smoke filled the room; whenit cleared away, the forage-cap was taken down. It had been shot rightthrough the centre, and the bullet was deeply embedded in the wall. 

For two or three minutes no one was able to utter a word. Very quietlyVulich poured my ducats from the major's purse into his own. 

Discussions arose as to why the pistol had not gone off the firsttime. Some maintained that probably the pan had been obstructed; otherswhispered that the powder had been damp the first time, and that, afterwards, Vulich had sprinkled some fresh powder on it; but Imaintained that the last supposition was wrong, because I had not oncetaken my eyes off the pistol. 

"You are lucky at play!" I said to Vulich. .. 

"For the first time in my life!" he answered, with a complacent smile. "It is better than 'bank' and 'shtoss. '" [23]

"But, on the other hand, slightly more dangerous!"

"Well? Have you begun to believe in predestination?

"I do believe in it; only I cannot understand now why it appeared to methat you must inevitably die to-day!"

And this same man, who, such a short time before, had with the greatestcalmness aimed a pistol at his own forehead, now suddenly fired up andbecame embarrassed. 

"That will do, though!" he said, rising to his feet. "Our wager isfinished, and now your observations, it seems to me, are out of place. "

He took up his cap and departed. The whole affair struck me as beingstrange--and not without reason. Shortly after that, all the officersbroke up and went home, discussing Vulich's freaks from different pointsof view, and, doubtless, with one voice calling me an egoist for havingtaken up a wager against a man who wanted to shoot himself, as if hecould not have found a convenient opportunity without my intervention. 

I returned home by the deserted byways of the village. The moon, fulland red like the glow of a conflagration, was beginning to make itsappearance from behind the jagged horizon of the house-tops; the starswere shining tranquilly in the deep, blue vault of the sky; and I wasstruck by the absurdity of the idea when I recalled to mind that onceupon a time there were some exceedingly wise people who thought that thestars of heaven participated in our insignificant squabbles for a sliceof 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 wiseacresthemselves, together with their hopes and passions, have long beenextinguished, like a little fire kindled at the edge of a forest by acareless wayfarer! But, on the other hand, what strength of willwas lent them by the conviction that the entire heavens, withtheir 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 heartshrink at the thought of the inevitable end--we are no longer capableof great sacrifices, either for the good of mankind or even for our ownhappiness, because we know the impossibility of such happiness; and, just as our ancestors used to fling themselves from one delusion toanother, 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 mankindor with destiny. 

These and many other similar thoughts passed through my mind, but Idid not follow them up, because I do not like to dwell upon abstractideas--for what do they lead to? In my early youth I was a dreamer; Iloved to hug to my bosom the images--now gloomy, now rainbowhued--whichmy restless and eager imagination drew for me. And what is there left tome of all these? Only such weariness as might be felt after a battle bynight with a phantom--only a confused memory full of regrets. In thatvain contest I have exhausted the warmth of soul and firmness of willindispensable to an active life. I have entered upon that life afterhaving already lived through it in thought, and it has become wearisomeand nauseous to me, as the reading of a bad imitation of a book is toone who has long been familiar with the original. 

The events of that evening produced a somewhat deep impression upon meand excited my nerves. I do not know for certain whether I now believein predestination or not, but on that evening I believed in it firmly. The proof was startling, and I, notwithstanding that I had laughed atour forefathers and their obliging astrology, fell involuntarily intotheir way of thinking. However, I stopped myself in time from followingthat dangerous road, and, as I have made it a rule not to rejectanything decisively and not to trust anything blindly, I castmetaphysics aside and began to look at what was beneath my feet. Theprecaution was well-timed. I only just escaped stumbling over somethingthick and soft, but, to all appearance, inanimate. I bent down to seewhat it was, and, by the light of the moon, which now shone right uponthe road, I perceived that it was a pig which had been cut in two witha sabre. .. I had hardly time to examine it before I heard the sound ofsteps, and two Cossacks came running out of a byway. One of them came upto 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 unhappyvictim of his rabid bravery. 

"The scoundrel!" said the second Cossack. "No sooner does he drink hisfill of chikhir [24] than off he goes and cuts up anything that comes inhis way. Let us be after him, Eremeich, we must tie him up or else". .. 

They took themselves off, and I continued my way with greater caution, and at length arrived at my lodgings without mishap. 

I was living with a certain old Cossack underofficer whom I loved, not only on account of his kindly disposition, but also, and moreespecially, on account of his pretty daughter, Nastya. 

Wrapped up in a sheepskin coat she was waiting for me, as usual, by thewicket gate. The moon illumined her charming little lips, now turnedblue by the cold of the night. Recognizing me she smiled; but I was inno mood to linger with her. 

"Good night, Nastya!" I said, and passed on. 

She was about to make some answer, but only sighed. 

I fastened the door of my room after me, lighted a candle, and threwmyself on the bed; but, on that occasion, slumber caused its presenceto be awaited longer than usual. By the time I fell asleep the east wasbeginning to grow pale, but I was evidently predestined not to havemy sleep out. At four o'clock in the morning two fists knocked at mywindow. I sprang up. 

"What is the matter?"

"Get up--dress yourself!"

I dressed hurriedly and went out. 

"Do you know what has happened?" said three officers who had come forme, speaking all in one voice. 

They were deadly pale. 

"No, what is it?"

"Vulich has been murdered!"

I was petrified. 

"Yes, murdered!" they continued. "Let us lose no time and go!"

"But where to?"

"You will learn as we go. "

We set off. They told me all that had happened, supplementing theirstory with a variety of observations on the subject of the strangepredestination which had saved Vulich from imminent death half an hourbefore he actually met his end. 

Vulich had been walking alone along a dark street, and the drunkenCossack who had cut up the pig had sprung out upon him, and perhapswould have passed him by without noticing him, had not Vulich stoppedsuddenly and said:

"Whom are you looking for, my man?"

"You!" answered the Cossack, striking him with his sabre; and he clefthim from the shoulder almost to the heart. .. 

The two Cossacks who had met me and followed the murderer had arrived onthe scene and raised the wounded man from the ground. But he was alreadyas his last gasp and said these three words only--"he was right!"

I alone understood the dark significance of those words: they referredto me. I had involuntarily foretold his fate to poor Vulich. My instincthad not deceived me; I had indeed read on his changed countenance thesigns of approaching death. 

The murderer had locked himself up in an empty hut at the end of thevillage; and thither we went. A number of women, all of them weeping, were running in the same direction; at times a belated Cossack, hastilybuckling on his dagger, sprang out into the street and overtook us at arun. The tumult was dreadful. 

At length we arrived on the scene and found a crowd standing around thehut, the door and shutters of which were locked on the inside. Groups ofofficers and Cossacks were engaged in heated discussions; the women wereshrieking, wailing and talking all in one breath. One of the oldwomen struck my attention by her meaning looks and the frantic despairexpressed upon her face. She was sitting on a thick plank, leaning herelbows on her knees and supporting her head with her hands. It was themother of the murderer. At times her lips moved. .. Was it a prayer theywere whispering, or a curse?

Meanwhile it was necessary to decide upon some course of action and toseize the criminal. Nobody, however, made bold to be the first to rushforward. 

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 inhis right hand. The blood-stained sabre was beside him. His expressiveeyes were rolling in terror; at times he shuddered and clutched at hishead, as if indistinctly recalling the events of yesterday. I could notread any sign of great determination in that uneasy glance of his, andI told the major that it would be better at once to give orders to theCossacks to burst open the door and rush in, than to wait until themurderer had quite recovered his senses. 

At that moment the old captain of the Cossacks went up to the door andcalled the murderer by name. The latter answered back. 

"You have committed a sin, brother Ephimych!" said the captain, "so allyou can do now is to submit. "

"I will not submit!" answered the Cossack. 

"Have you no fear of God! You see, you are not one of those cursedChechenes, but an honest Christian! Come, if you have done it in anunguarded moment there is no help for it! You cannot escape your fate!"

"I will not submit!" exclaimed the Cossack menacingly, and we could hearthe snap of the cocked trigger. 

"Hey, my good woman!" said the Cossack captain to the old woman. "Say aword to your son--perhaps he will lend an ear to you. .. You see, to goon like this is only to make God angry. And look, the gentlemen herehave already been waiting two hours. "

The old woman gazed fixedly at him and shook her head. 

"Vasili Petrovich, " said the captain, going up to the major; "he willnot surrender. I know him! If it comes to smashing in the door he willstrike down several of our men. Would it not be better if you orderedhim to be shot? There is a wide chink in the shutter. "

At that moment a strange idea flashed through my head--like Vulich Iproposed to put fate to the test. 

"Wait, " I said to the major, "I will take him alive. "

Bidding the captain enter into a conversation with the murderer andsetting three Cossacks at the door ready to force it open and rush to myaid at a given signal, I walked round the hut and approached the fatalwindow. My heart was beating violently. 

"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?"

He began to knock at the door with all his might. Putting my eye to thechink, I followed the movements of the Cossack, who was not expecting anattack from that direction. I pulled the shutter away suddenly and threwmyself in at the window, head foremost. A shot rang out right over myear, and the bullet tore off one of my epaulettes. But the smoke whichfilled the room prevented my adversary from finding the sabre which waslying beside him. I seized him by the arms; the Cossacks burst in; andthree minutes had not elapsed before they had the criminal bound and ledoff under escort. 

The people dispersed, the officers congratulated me--and indeed therewas cause for congratulation. 

After all that, it would hardly seem possible to avoid becoming afatalist? But who knows for certain whether he is convinced of anythingor not? And how often is a deception of the senses or an error of thereason accepted as a conviction!. .. I prefer to doubt everything. Such adisposition is no bar to decision of character; on the contrary, so faras I am concerned, I always advance more boldly when I do not know whatis awaiting me. You see, nothing can happen worse than death--and fromdeath there is no escape. 

On my return to the fortress I related to Maksim Maksimych all thatI had seen and experienced; and I sought to learn his opinion on thesubject of predestination. 

At first he did not understand the word. I explained it to him as wellas I could, and then he said, with a significant shake of the head:

"Yes, sir, of course! It was a very ingenious trick! However, theseAsiatic pistols often miss fire if they are badly oiled or if you don'tpress hard enough on the trigger. I confess I don't like the Circassiancarbines either. Somehow or other they don't suit the like of us: thebutt end is so small, and any minute you may get your nose burnt! On theother hand, their sabres, now--well, all I need say is, my best respectsto them!"

Afterwards he said, on reflecting a little:

"Yes, it is a pity about the poor fellow! The devil must have put itinto 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!"

I could not get anything more out of Maksim Maksimych; generallyspeaking, he had no liking for metaphysical disputations. 

BOOK V THE THIRD EXTRACT FROM PECHORIN'S DIARY

PRINCESS MARY

CHAPTER I. 11th May. 

YESTERDAY I arrived at Pyatigorsk. I have engaged lodgings at theextreme 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. 

This morning at five o'clock, when I opened my window, the room wasfilled with the fragrance of the flowers growing in the modest littlefront-garden. Branches of bloom-laden bird-cherry trees peep in at mywindow, and now and again the breeze bestrews my writing-table withtheir white petals. The view which meets my gaze on three sides iswonderful: westward towers five-peaked Beshtau, blue as "the last cloudof a dispersed storm, " [25] and northward rises Mashuk, like a shaggyPersian cap, shutting in the whole of that quarter of the horizon. Eastward the outlook is more cheery: down below are displayed thevaried hues of the brand-new, spotlessly clean, little town, with itsmurmuring, health-giving springs and its babbling, many-tongued throng. Yonder, further away, the mountains tower up in an amphitheatre, everbluer and mistier; and, at the edge of the horizon, stretches thesilver chain of snow-clad summits, beginning with Kazbek and ending withtwo-peaked Elbruz. .. Blithe is life in such a land! A feeling akin torapture 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 morecould one possibly wish for? What need, in such a place as this, ofpassions, desires, regrets?

However, it is time to be stirring. I will go to the Elizaveta spring--Iam told that the whole society of the watering-place assembles there inthe morning. 

*****

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 thesteppes--as could be guessed at once from the threadbare, old-fashionedfrock-coats of the husbands and the exquisite attire of the wivesand daughters. Evidently they already had all the young men of thewatering-place at their fingers' ends, because they looked at me witha tender curiosity. The Petersburg cut of my coat misled them; butthey soon recognised the military epaulettes, and turned away withindignation. 

The wives of the local authorities--the hostesses, so to speak, of thewaters--were more graciously inclined. They carry lorgnettes, and theypay less attention to a uniform--they have grown accustomed in theCaucasus to meeting a fervid heart beneath a numbered button and acultured intellect beneath a white forage-cap. These ladies are verycharming, and long continue to be charming. Each year their adorersare exchanged for new ones, and in that very fact, it may be, lies thesecret of their unwearying amiability. 

Ascending by the narrow path to the Elizaveta spring, I overtook a crowdof officials and military men, who, as I subsequently learned, compose aclass apart amongst those who place their hopes in the medicinal waters. They drink--but not water--take but few walks, indulge in only mildflirtations, gamble, and complain of boredom. 

They are dandies. In letting their wicker-sheathed tumblers down intothe well of sulphurous water they assume academical poses. The officialswear bright blue cravats; the military men have ruffs sticking out abovetheir collars. They affect a profound contempt for provincial ladies, and sigh for the aristocratic drawing-rooms of the capitals--to whichthey are not admitted. 

Here is the well at last!. .. Upon the small square adjoining it a littlehouse with a red roof over the bath is erected, and somewhat further onthere is a gallery in which the people walk when it rains. Some woundedofficers were sitting--pale and melancholy--on a bench, with theircrutches drawn up. A few ladies, their tumbler of water finished, werewalking with rapid steps to and fro about the square. There were two orthree pretty faces amongst them. Beneath the avenues of the vines withwhich the slope of Mashuk is covered, occasional glimpses could becaught of the gay-coloured hat of a lover of solitude for two--forbeside that hat I always noticed either a military forage-cap or theugly round hat of a civilian. Upon the steep cliff, where the pavilioncalled "The Aeolian Harp" is erected, figured the lovers of scenery, directing their telescopes upon Elbruz. Amongst them were a couple oftutors, with their pupils who had come to be cured of scrofula. 

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 thepicturesque surroundings, when suddenly I heard behind me a familiarvoice. 

"Pechorin! Have you been here long?"

I turned round. Grushnitski! We embraced. I had made his acquaintancein the active service detachment. He had been wounded in the foot by abullet and had come to the waters a week or so before me. 

Grushnitski is a cadet; he has only been a year in the service. Froma kind of foppery peculiar to himself, he wears the thick cloak of acommon soldier. He has also the soldier's cross of St. George. He iswell built, swarthy and black-haired. To look at him, you might say hewas a man of twenty-five, although he is scarcely twenty-one. He tosseshis head when he speaks, and keeps continually twirling his moustachewith his left hand, his right hand being occupied with the crutch onwhich he leans. He speaks rapidly and affectedly; he is one of thosepeople who have a high-sounding phrase ready for every occasion inlife, who remain untouched by simple beauty, and who drape themselvesmajestically in extraordinary sentiments, exalted passions andexceptional sufferings. To produce an effect is their delight; they havean almost insensate fondness for romantic provincial ladies. Whenold age approaches they become either peaceful landed-gentry ordrunkards--sometimes both. Frequently they have many good qualities, but they have not a grain of poetry in their composition. Grushnitski'spassion was declamation. He would deluge you with words so soon as theconversation went beyond the sphere of ordinary ideas. I have never beenable to dispute with him. He neither answers your questions nor listensto you. So soon as you stop, he begins a lengthy tirade, which hasthe appearance of being in some sort connected with what you have beensaying, but which is, in fact, only a continuation of his own harangue. 

He is witty enough; his epigrams are frequently amusing, but nevermalicious, nor to the point. He slays nobody with a single word; he hasno knowledge of men and of their foibles, because all his life he hasbeen interested in nobody but himself. His aim is to make himself thehero of a novel. He has so often endeavoured to convince others that heis a being created not for this world and doomed to certain mysterioussufferings, that he has almost convinced himself that such he is inreality. Hence the pride with which he wears his thick soldier's cloak. I have seen through him, and he dislikes me for that reason, althoughto outward appearance we are on the friendliest of terms. Grushnitskiis looked upon as a man of distinguished courage. I have seen him inaction. He waves his sabre, shouts, and hurls himself forward with hiseyes shut. That is not what I should call Russian courage!. .. 

I reciprocate Grushnitski's dislike. I feel that some time or other weshall come into collision upon a narrow road, and that one of us willfare badly. 

His arrival in the Caucasus is also the result of his romanticfanaticism. I am convinced that on the eve of his departure from hispaternal village he said with an air of gloom to some pretty neighbourthat he was going away, not so much for the simple purpose of servingin the army as of seeking death, because. .. And hereupon, I am sure, he covered his eyes with his hand and continued thus, "No, you--orthou--must not know! Your pure soul would shudder! And what would be thegood? What am I to you? Could you understand me?". .. And so on. 

He has himself told me that the motive which induced him to enter theK----regiment must remain an everlasting secret between him and Heaven. 

However, in moments when he casts aside the tragic mantle, Grushnitskiis charming and entertaining enough. I am always interested to see himwith women--it is then that he puts forth his finest efforts, I think!

We met like a couple of old friends. I began to question him aboutthe personages of note and as to the sort of life which was led at thewaters. 

"It is a rather prosaic life, " he said, with a sigh. "Those who drinkthe waters in the morning are inert--like all invalids, and those whodrink the wines in the evening are unendurable--like all healthy people!There are ladies who entertain, but there is no great amusement to beobtained from them. They play whist, they dress badly and speak Frenchdreadfully! The only Moscow people here this year are Princess Ligovskiand her daughter--but I am not acquainted with them. My soldier's cloakis like a seal of renunciation. The sympathy which it arouses is aspainful as charity. "

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 goodview of their faces on account of their hats, but they were dressed inaccordance with the strict rules of the best taste--nothing superfluous. The second lady was wearing a high-necked dress of pearl-grey, and alight silk kerchief was wound round her supple neck. Puce-coloured bootsclasped her slim little ankle so charmingly, that even those uninitiatedinto the mysteries of beauty would infallibly have sighed, if only fromwonder. There was something maidenly in her easy, but aristocratic gait, something eluding definition yet intelligible to the glance. As shewalked past us an indefinable perfume, like that which sometimesbreathes from the note of a charming woman, was wafted from her. 

"Look!" said Grushnitski, "there is Princess Ligovski with her daughterMary, as she calls her after the English manner. They have been hereonly three days. "

"You already know her name, though?"

"Yes, I heard it by chance, " he answered, with a blush. "I confess I donot desire to make their acquaintance. These haughty aristocrats lookupon us army men just as they would upon savages. What care they ifthere is an intellect beneath a numbered forage-cap, and a heart beneatha thick cloak?"

"Poor cloak!" I said, with a laugh. "But who is the gentleman who isjust going up to them and handing them a tumbler so officiously?"

"Oh, that is Raevich, the Moscow dandy. He is a gambler; you can seeas much at once from that immense gold chain coiling across hisskyblue waistcoat. And what a thick cane he has! Just like RobinsonCrusoe's--and so is his beard too, and his hair is done like apeasant's. "

"You are embittered against the whole human race?"

"And I have cause to be". .. 

"Oh, really?"

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 hiscrutch, and in a loud tone of voice answered me in French:

"Mon cher, je hais les hommes pour ne pas les mepriser, car autrement lavie serait une farce trop degoutante. "

The pretty Princess Mary turned round and favoured the orator with along and curious glance. Her expression was quite indefinite, but it wasnot contemptuous, a fact on which I inwardly congratulated Grushnitskifrom my heart. 

"She is an extremely pretty girl, " I said. "She has such velveteyes--yes, velvet is the word. I should advise you to appropriate theexpression when speaking of her eyes. The lower and upper lashes areso long that the sunbeams are not reflected in her pupils. I love thoseeyes 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 herteeth white? That is most important! It is a pity that she did not smileat that high-sounding phrase of yours. "

"You are speaking of a pretty woman just as you might of an Englishhorse, " said Grushnitski indignantly. 

"Mon cher, " I answered, trying to mimic his tone, "je meprise lesfemmes, pour ne pas les aimer, car autrement la vie serait un melodrametrop ridicule. "

I turned and left him. For half an hour or so I walked about the avenuesof 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 itsshade, and by so doing I was afforded the opportunity of witnessing arather interesting scene. This is the position in which the dramatispersonae were disposed: Princess Ligovski and the Moscow dandy weresitting on a bench in the covered gallery--apparently engaged in seriousconversation. Princess Mary, who had doubtless by this time finished herlast tumbler, was walking pensively to and fro by the well. Grushnitskiwas standing by the well itself; there was nobody else on the square. 

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 madestrenuous efforts to stoop in order to pick it up; but his injured footprevented him. Poor fellow! How he tried all kinds of artifices, as heleaned on his crutch, and all in vain! His expressive countenance was, in fact, a picture of suffering. 

Princess Mary saw the whole scene better than I. 

Lighter than a bird she sprang towards him, stooped, picked up thetumbler, and handed it to him with a gesture full of ineffable charm. Then she blushed furiously, glanced round at the gallery, and, havingassured herself that her mother apparently had not seen anything, immediately regained her composure. By the time Grushnitski had openedhis mouth to thank her she was a long way off. A moment after, she cameout of the gallery with her mother and the dandy, but, in passing byGrushnitski, she assumed a most decorous and serious air. She did noteven turn round, she did not even observe the passionate gaze which hekept fixed upon her for a long time until she had descended the mountainand was hidden behind the lime trees of the boulevard. .. Presently Icaught glimpses of her hat as she walked along the street. She hurriedthrough the gate of one of the best houses in Pyatigorsk; her motherwalked behind her and bowed adieu to Raevich at the gate. 

It was only then that the poor, passionate cadet noticed my presence. 

"Did you see?" he said, pressing my hand vigorously. "She is an angel, simply an angel!"

"Why?" I inquired, with an air of the purest simplicity. 

"Did you not see, then?"

"No. I saw her picking up your tumbler. If there had been an attendantthere he would have done the same thing--and quicker too, in the hopeof receiving a tip. It is quite easy, however, to understand that shepitied you; you made such a terrible grimace when you walked on thewounded foot. "

"And can it be that seeing her, as you did, at that moment when her soulwas shining in her eyes, you were not in the least affected?"

"No. "

I was lying, but I wanted to exasperate him. I have an innate passionfor contradiction--my whole life has been nothing but a series ofmelancholy and vain contradictions of heart or reason. The presence ofan enthusiast chills me with a twelfth-night cold, and I believethat constant association with a person of a flaccid and phlegmatictemperament would have turned me into an impassioned visionary. Iconfess, too, that an unpleasant but familiar sensation was coursinglightly 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 beenattracted by a pretty woman and he had suddenly found her openlysingling out before his eyes another man equally unknown to her--itwould be hard, I say, to find such a young man (living, of course, inthe great world and accustomed to indulge his self-love) who would nothave been unpleasantly taken aback in such a case. 

In silence Grushnitski and I descended the mountain and walked alongthe boulevard, past the windows of the house where our beauty had hiddenherself. She was sitting by the window. Grushnitski, plucking me by thearm, cast upon her one of those gloomily tender glances which have solittle effect upon women. I directed my lorgnette at her, and observedthat she smiled at his glance and that my insolent lorgnette madeher downright angry. And how, indeed, should a Caucasian military manpresume to direct his eyeglass at a princess from Moscow?. .. 

CHAPTER II. 13th May. 

THIS morning the doctor came to see me. His name is Werner, but he isa Russian. What is there surprising in that? I have known a man namedIvanov, who was a German. 

Werner is a remarkable man, and that for many reasons. Like almost allmedical men he is a sceptic and a materialist, but, at the same time, heis a genuine poet--a poet always in deeds and often in words, althoughhe has never written two verses in his life. He has mastered all theliving chords of the human heart, just as one learns the veins of acorpse, but he has never known how to avail himself of his knowledge. Inlike manner, it sometimes happens that an excellent anatomist does notknow how to cure a fever. Werner usually made fun of his patients inprivate; 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 hisway for the sake of money. He once told me that he would rather do afavour to an enemy than to a friend, because, in the latter case, it would mean selling his beneficence, whilst hatred only increasesproportionately to the magnanimity of the adversary. He had a malicioustongue; and more than one good, simple soul has acquired the reputationof a vulgar fool through being labelled with one of his epigrams. Hisrivals, envious medical men of the watering-place, spread the reportthat he was in the habit of drawing caricatures of his patients. Thepatients were incensed, and almost all of them discarded him. Hisfriends, that is to say all the genuinely well-bred people who wereserving in the Caucasus, vainly endeavoured to restore his fallencredit. 

His outward appearance was of the type which, at the first glance, creates an unpleasant impression, but which you get to like in course oftime, when the eye learns to read in the irregular features the stamp ofa tried and lofty soul. Instances have been known of women falling madlyin love with men of that sort, and having no desire to exchange theirugliness for the beauty of the freshest and rosiest of Endymions. We must give women their due: they possess an instinct for spiritualbeauty, for which reason, possibly, men such as Werner love women sopassionately. 

Werner was small and lean and as weak as a baby. One of his legs wasshorter than the other, as was the case with Byron. In comparison withhis body, his head seemed enormous. His hair was cropped close, andthe unevennesses of his cranium, thus laid bare, would have struck aphrenologist by reason of the strange intertexture of contradictorypropensities. His little, ever restless, black eyes seemed as if theywere endeavouring to fathom your thoughts. Taste and neatness were to beobserved in his dress. His small, lean, sinewy hands flaunted themselvesin bright-yellow gloves. His frock-coat, cravat and waistcoat wereinvariably of black. The young men dubbed him Mephistopheles; hepretended to be angry at the nickname, but in reality it flattered hisvanity. 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 neitheracknowledges the fact to himself. Now, the slave I could not be; and tobe the master would be a wearisome trouble, because, at the same time, deception would be required. Besides, I have servants and money!

Our friendship originated in the following circumstances. I met Wernerat S----, in the midst of a numerous and noisy circle of youngpeople. Towards the end of the evening the conversation took aphilosophico-metaphysical turn. We discussed the subject of convictions, and each of us had some different conviction to declare. 

"So far as I am concerned, " said the doctor, "I am convinced of onething only". .. 

"And that is--?" I asked, desirous of learning the opinion of a man whohad been silent till then. 

"Of the fact, " he answered, "that sooner or later, one fine morning, Ishall die. "

"I am better off than you, " I said. "In addition to that, I have afurther conviction, namely, that, one very nasty evening, I had themisfortune to be born. "

All the others considered that we were talking nonsense, but indeed notone of them said anything more sensible. From that moment we singledeach other out amongst the crowd. We used frequently to meet and discussabstract subjects in a very serious manner, until each observed that theother was throwing dust in his eyes. Then, looking significantly at eachother--as, according to Cicero, the Roman augurs used to do--wewould burst out laughing heartily and, having had our laugh, we wouldseparate, well content with our evening. 

I was lying on a couch, my eyes fixed upon the ceiling and my handsclasped behind my head, when Werner entered my room. He sat down in aneasy chair, placed his cane in a corner, yawned, and announced that itwas getting hot out of doors. I replied that the flies were botheringme--and we both fell silent. 

"Observe, my dear doctor, " I said, "that, but for fools, the world wouldbe a very dull place. Look! Here are you and I, both sensible men!We know beforehand that it is possible to dispute ad infinitum abouteverything--and so we do not dispute. Each of us knows almost all theother's secret thoughts: to us a single word is a whole history; we seethe grain of every one of our feelings through a threefold husk. Whatis sad, we laugh at; what is laughable, we grieve at; but, to tell thetruth, we are fairly indifferent, generally speaking, to everythingexcept ourselves. Consequently, there can be no interchange of feelingsand thoughts between us; each of us knows all he cares to know aboutthe other, and that knowledge is all he wants. One expedient remains--totell the news. So tell me some news. "

Fatigued by this lengthy speech, I closed my eyes and yawned. The doctoranswered after thinking awhile:

"There is an idea, all the same, in that nonsense of yours. "

"Two, " I replied. 

"Tell me one, and I will tell you the other. "

"Very well, begin!" I said, continuing to examine the ceiling andsmiling inwardly. 

"You are anxious for information about some of the new-comers here, andI can guess who it is, because they, for their part, have already beeninquiring about you. "

"Doctor! Decidedly it is impossible for us to hold a conversation! Weread into each other's soul. "

"Now the other idea?". .. 

"Here it is: I wanted to make you relate something, for the followingreasons: firstly, listening is less fatiguing than talking; secondly, the listener cannot commit himself; thirdly, he can learn another'ssecret; fourthly, sensible people, such as you, prefer listeners tospeakers. Now to business; what did Princess Ligovski tell you aboutme?"

"You are quite sure that it was Princess Ligovski. .. And not PrincessMary?". .. 

"Quite sure. "

"Why?"

"Because Princess Mary inquired about Grushnitski. "

"You are gifted with a fine imagination! Princess Mary said that she wasconvinced that the young man in the soldier's cloak had been reduced tothe ranks on account of a duel". .. 

"I hope you left her cherishing that pleasant delusion". .. 

"Of course". .. 

"A plot!" I exclaimed in rapture. "We will make it our business to seeto the denouement of this little comedy. It is obvious that fate istaking care that I shall not be bored!"

"I have a presentiment, " said the doctor, "that poor Grushnitski will beyour victim. "

"Proceed, doctor. "

"Princess Ligovski said that your face was familiar to her. I observedthat she had probably met you in Petersburg--somewhere in society. .. I told her your name. She knew it well. It appears that your historycreated a great stir there. .. She began to tell us of your adventures, most likely supplementing the gossip of society with observations of herown. .. Her daughter listened with curiosity. In her imagination youhave become the hero of a novel in a new style. .. I did not contradictPrincess Ligovski, although I knew that she was talking nonsense. "

"Worthy friend!" I said, extending my hand to him. 

The doctor pressed it feelingly and continued:

"If you like I will present you". .. 

"Good heavens!" I said, clapping my hands. "Are heroes ever presented?In no other way do they make the acquaintance of their beloved than bysaving her from certain death!". .. 

"And you really wish to court Princess Mary?"

"Not at all, far from it!. .. Doctor, I triumph at last! You do notunderstand me!. .. It vexes me, however, " I continued after a moment'ssilence. "I never reveal my secrets myself, but I am exceedingly fond oftheir being guessed, because in that way I can always disavow them uponoccasion. However, you must describe both mother and daughter to me. What sort of people are they?"

"In the first place, Princess Ligovski is a woman of forty-five, "answered Werner. "She has a splendid digestion, but her blood is out oforder--there are red spots on her cheeks. She has spent the latter halfof her life in Moscow, and has grown stout from leading an inactivelife there. She loves spicy stories, and sometimes says improper thingsherself when her daughter is out of the room. She has declared to methat her daughter is as innocent as a dove. What does that matter tome?. .. I was going to answer that she might be at her ease, because Iwould never tell anyone. Princess Ligovski is taking the cure for herrheumatism, and the daughter, for goodness knows what. I have orderedeach of them to drink two tumblers a day of sulphurous water, and tobathe twice a week in the diluted bath. Princess Ligovski isapparently unaccustomed to giving orders. She cherishes respect forthe intelligence and attainments of her daughter, who has read Byron inEnglish and knows algebra: in Moscow, evidently, the ladies have enteredupon the paths of erudition--and a good thing, too! The men here aregenerally so unamiable, that, for a clever woman, it must be intolerableto flirt with them. Princess Ligovski is very fond of young people;Princess Mary looks on them with a certain contempt--a Moscow habit! InMoscow they cherish only wits of not less than forty. "

"You have been in Moscow, doctor?"

"Yes, I had a practice there. "

"Continue. "

"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 thesociety: no doubt she was coldly received. "

"You have not seen anyone with them today?"

"On the contrary, there was an aide-de-camp, a stiff guardsman, and alady--one of the latest arrivals, a relation of Princess Ligovski on thehusband's side--very pretty, but apparently very ill. .. Have you not mether at the well? She is of medium height, fair, with regular features;she has the complexion of a consumptive, and there is a little blackmole on her right cheek. I was struck by the expressiveness of herface. "

"A mole!" I muttered through my teeth. "Is it possible?"

The doctor looked at me, and, laying his hand on my heart, saidtriumphantly:

"You know her!"

My heart was, in fact, beating more violently than usual. 

"It is your turn, now, to triumph, " I said. "But I rely on you: youwill not betray me. I have not seen her yet, but I am convinced that Irecognise from your portrait a woman whom I loved in the old days. .. Donot speak a word to her about me; if she asks any questions, give a badreport of me. "

"Be it so!" said Werner, shrugging his shoulders. 

When he had departed, my heart was compressed with terrible grief. Has destiny brought us together again in the Caucasus, or has she comehither on purpose, knowing that she would meet me?. .. And how shall wemeet?. .. And then, is it she?. .. My presentiments have never deceivedme. There is not a man in the world over whom the past has acquired sucha power as over me. Every recollection of bygone grief or joy strikesmy soul with morbid effect, and draws forth ever the same sounds. .. I amstupidly constituted: I forget nothing--nothing!

After dinner, about six o'clock, I went on to the boulevard. It wascrowded. The two princesses were sitting on a bench, surrounded by youngmen, who were vying with each other in paying them attention. I tookup my position on another bench at a little distance off, stopped twoDragoon officers whom I knew, and proceeded to tell them something. Evidently it was amusing, because they began to laugh loudly like acouple of madmen. Some of those who were surrounding Princess Mary wereattracted to my side by curiosity, and gradually all of them left herand joined my circle. I did not stop talking; my anecdotes were cleverto the point of absurdity, my jests at the expense of the queer peoplepassing by, malicious to the point of frenzy. I continued to entertainthe public till sunset. Princess Mary passed by me a few times, arm-inarm with her mother, and accompanied by a certain lame old man. A few times her glance as it fell upon me expressed vexation, whileendeavouring to express indifference. .. 

"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 interestingstory--his own exploits in battle?". .. 

This was said rather loudly, and probably with the intention of stingingme. 

"Aha!" I thought to myself. "You are downright angry, my dear Princess. Wait awhile, there is more to follow. "

Grushnitski kept following her like a beast of prey, and would not lether out of his sight. I wager that to-morrow he will ask somebody topresent him to Princess Ligovski. She will be glad, because she isbored. 

CHAPTER III. 16th May. 

IN the course of two days my affairs have gained ground tremendously. Princess Mary positively hates me. Already I have had repeated to me twoor three epigrams on the subject of myself--rather caustic, but at thesame time very flattering. She finds it exceedingly strange that I, whoam accustomed to good society, and am so intimate with her Petersburgcousins and aunts, do not try to make her acquaintance. Every day wemeet at the well and on the boulevard. I exert all my powers to enticeaway her adorers, glittering aides-de-camp, pale-faced visitors fromMoscow, and others--and I almost always succeed. I have always hatedentertaining guests: now my house is full every day; they dine, sup, gamble, and alas! my champagne triumphs over the might of PrincessMary's magnetic eyes!

I met her yesterday in Chelakhov's shop. She was bargaining for amarvellous Persian rug, and implored her mother not to be niggardly: therug would be such an ornament to her boudoir. .. I outbid her by fortyrubles, and bought it over her head. I was rewarded with a glance inwhich the most delightful fury sparkled. About dinnertime, I ordered myCircassian horse, covered with that very rug, purposely to be led pasther windows. Werner was with the princesses at the time, and told methat the effect of the scene was most dramatic. Princess Mary wishes topreach 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 herpresence--they dine with me every day, however. 

Grushnitski has assumed an air of mystery; he walks with his arms foldedbehind his back and does not recognise anyone. His foot has got wellall at once, and there is hardly a sign of a limp. He has found anopportunity of entering into conversation with Princess Ligovski and ofpaying Princess Mary some kind of a compliment. The latter is evidentlynot very fastidious, for, ever since, she answers his bow with a mostcharming smile. 

"Are you sure you do not wish to make the Ligovskis' acquaintance?" hesaid to me yesterday. 

"Positive. "

"Good gracious! The pleasantest house at the waters! All the bestsociety of Pyatigorsk is to be found there". .. 

"My friend, I am terribly tired of even other society than that ofPyatigorsk. So you visit the Ligovskis?"

"Not yet. I have spoken to Princess Mary once or twice, but that isall. You know it is rather awkward to go and visit them without beinginvited, although that is the custom here. .. It would be a differentmatter if I was wearing epaulettes". .. 

"Good heavens! Why, you are much more interesting as it is! You simplydo 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 anylady of sentiment!"

Grushnitski smiled complacently. 

"What nonsense!" he said. 

"I am convinced, " I continued, "that Princess Mary is in love with youalready. "

He blushed up to the ears and looked big. 

Oh, vanity! Thou art the lever with which Archimedes was to lift theearthly sphere!. .. 

"You are always jesting!" he said, pretending to be angry. "In the firstplace, she knows so little of me as yet". .. 

"Women love only those whom they do not know!"

"But I have no pretensions whatsoever to pleasing her. I simply wishto make the acquaintance of an agreeable household; and it would beextremely ridiculous if I were to cherish the slightest hope. .. Withyou, now, for instance, it is a different matter! You Petersburgconquerors! You have but to look--and women melt. .. But do you know, Pechorin, what Princess Mary said of you?". .. 

"What? She has spoken to you already about me?". .. 

"Do not rejoice too soon, though. The other day, by chance, I enteredinto conversation with her at the well; her third word was, 'Who isthat gentleman with such an unpleasant, heavy glance? He was with youwhen'. .. She blushed, and did not like to mention the day, rememberingher own delightful little exploit. 'You need not tell me what day itwas, ' 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!". .. 

It must be observed that Grushnitski is one of those men who, inspeaking of a woman with whom they are barely acquainted, call her myMary, my Sophie, if she has had the good fortune to please them. 

I assumed a serious air and answered:

"Yes, she is good-looking. .. Only be careful, Grushnitski! Russianladies, for the most part, cherish only Platonic love, without minglingany thought of matrimony with it; and Platonic love is exceedinglyembarrassing. Princess Mary seems to be one of those women who want tobe amused. If she is bored in your company for two minutes on end--youare lost irrevocably. Your silence ought to excite her curiosity, yourconversation ought never to satisfy it completely; you should alarm herevery minute; ten times, in public, she will slight people's opinion foryou and will call that a sacrifice, and, in order to requite herself forit, she will torment you. Afterwards she will simply say that she cannotendure you. If you do not acquire authority over her, even her firstkiss will not give you the right to a second. She will flirt with you toher 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 Heavenwas not willing to unite her to him because he wore a soldier's cloak, although beneath that thick, grey cloak beat a heart, passionate andnoble". .. 

Grushnitski smote the table with his fist and fell to walking to and froacross the room. 

I laughed inwardly and even smiled once or twice, but fortunately he didnot notice. It is evident that he is in love, because he has grown evenmore confiding than heretofore. Moreover, a ring has made its appearanceon his finger, a silver ring with black enamel of local workmanship. Itstruck me as suspicious. .. I began to examine it, and what do you thinkI saw? The name Mary was engraved on the inside in small letters, and ina line with the name was the date on which she had picked up thefamous tumbler. I kept my discovery a secret. I do not want to forceconfessions from him, I want him, of his own accord, to choose me as hisconfidant--and then I will enjoy myself!. .. 

*****

To-day I rose late. I went to the well. I found nobody there. Theday grew hot. White, shaggy cloudlets were flitting rapidly from thesnow-clad mountains, giving promise of a thunderstorm; the summit ofMount Mashuk was smoking like a just extinguished torch; grey wisps ofcloud were coiling and creeping like snakes around it, arrested intheir rapid sweep and, as it were, hooked to its prickly brushwood. Theatmosphere was charged with electricity. I plunged into the avenue ofthe vines leading to the grotto. 

I felt low-spirited. I was thinking of the lady with the little mole onher cheek, of whom the doctor had spoken to me. .. "Why is she here?" Ithought. "And is it she? And what reason have I for thinking it is? Andwhy am I so certain of it? Is there not many a woman with a mole on hercheek?" Reflecting in such wise I came right up to the grotto. I lookedin and I saw that a woman, wearing a straw hat and wrapped in a blackshawl, was sitting on a stone seat in the cold shade of the arch. Herhead was sunk upon her breast, and the hat covered her face. I was justabout to turn back, in order not to disturb her meditations, when sheglanced at me. 

"Vera!" I exclaimed involuntarily. 

She started and turned pale. 

"I knew that you were here, " she said. 

I sat down beside her and took her hand. A long-forgotten tremor ranthrough my veins at the sound of that dear voice. She gazed into myface with her deep, calm eyes. Mistrust and something in the nature ofreproach were expressed in her glance. 

"We have not seen each other for a long time, " I said. 

"A long time, and we have both changed in many ways. "

"Consequently you love me no longer?". .. 

"I am married!". .. She said. 

"Again? A few years ago, however, that reason also existed, but, nevertheless". .. 

She plucked her hand away from mine and her cheeks flamed. 

"Perhaps you love your second husband?". .. 

She made no answer and turned her head away. 

"Or is he very jealous?"

She remained silent. 

"What then? He is young, handsome and, I suppose, rich--which is thechief thing--and you are afraid?". .. 

I glanced at her and was alarmed. Profound despair was depicted upon hercountenance; tears were glistening in her eyes. 

"Tell me, " she whispered at length, "do you find it very amusing totorture me? I ought to hate you. Since we have known each other, youhave given me naught but suffering". .. 

Her voice shook; she leaned over to me, and let her head sink upon mybreast. 

"Perhaps, " I reflected, "it is for that very reason that you have lovedme; joys are forgotten, but sorrows never". .. 

I clasped her closely to my breast, and so we remained for a longtime. At length our lips drew closer and became blent in a fervent, intoxicating kiss. Her hands were cold as ice; her head was burning. 

And hereupon we embarked upon one of those conversations which, onpaper, have no sense, which it is impossible to repeat, and impossibleeven to retain in memory. The meaning of the sounds replaces andcompletes the meaning of the words, as in Italian opera. 

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 fromattacks of rheumatism. I did not allow myself even a single scoff athis expense. She respects him as a father, and will deceive him as ahusband. .. A strange thing, the human heart in general, and woman'sheart in particular. 

Vera's husband, Semyon Vasilevich G----v, is a distant relation ofPrincess Ligovski. He lives next door to her. Vera frequently visitsthe Princess. I have given her my promise to make the Ligovskis'acquaintance, and to pay court to Princess Mary in order to distractattention from Vera. In such way, my plans have been not a littlederanged, but it will be amusing for me. .. 

Amusing!. .. Yes, I have already passed that period of spirituallife when happiness alone is sought, when the heart feels the urgentnecessity of violently and passionately loving somebody. Now my onlywish is to be loved, and that by very few. I even think that I would becontent with one constant attachment. A wretched habit of the heart!. .. 

One thing has always struck me as strange. I have never made myself theslave of the woman I have loved. On the contrary, I have always acquiredan invincible power over her will and heart, without in the leastendeavouring to do so. Why is this? Is it because I never esteemanything highly, and she has been continually afraid to let me out ofher hands? Or is it the magnetic influence of a powerful organism? Or isit, simply, that I have never succeeded in meeting a woman of stubborncharacter?

I must confess that, in fact, I do not love women who possess strengthof character. What business have they with such a thing?

Indeed, I remember now. Once and once only did I love a woman who hada firm will which I was never able to vanquish. .. We parted asenemies--and then, perhaps, if I had met her five years later we wouldhave parted otherwise. .. 

Vera is ill, very ill, although she does not admit it. I fear she hasconsumption, or that disease which is called "fievre lente"--a quiteunRussian disease, and one for which there is no name in our language. 

The storm overtook us while in the grotto and detained us half an hourlonger. Vera did not make me swear fidelity, or ask whether I had lovedothers since we had parted. .. She trusted in me anew with all her formerunconcern, and I will not deceive her: she is the only woman in theworld whom it would never be within my power to deceive. I know that weshall soon have to part again, and perchance for ever. We will both goby different ways to the grave, but her memory will remain inviolablewithin my soul. I have always repeated this to her, and she believes me, although she says she does not. 

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 waspainfully contracted, just as after our first parting. Oh, how Irejoiced in that emotion! Can it be that youth is about to come back tome, with its salutary tempests, or is this only the farewell glance, thelast 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 aresupple and slender; my hair is thick and curly, my eyes sparkle, myblood boils. .. 

Returning home, I mounted on horseback and galloped to the steppe. Ilove to gallop on a fiery horse through the tall grass, in the face ofthe desert wind; greedily I gulp down the fragrant air and fix my gazeupon the blue distance, endeavouring to seize the misty outlines ofobjects which every minute grow clearer and clearer. Whatever griefsoppress my heart, whatever disquietudes torture my thoughts--all aredispersed in a moment; my soul becomes at ease; the fatigue of the bodyvanquishes the disturbance of the mind. There is not a woman's glancewhich I would not forget at the sight of the tufted mountains, illuminedby the southern sun; at the sight of the dark-blue sky, or in hearkeningto the roar of the torrent as it falls from cliff to cliff. 

I believe that the Cossacks, yawning on their watch-towers, when theysaw me galloping thus needlessly and aimlessly, were long tormentedby that enigma, because from my dress, I am sure, they took me to be aCircassian. I have, in fact, been told that when riding on horseback, inmy Circassian costume, I resemble a Kabardian more than many a Kabardianhimself. And, indeed, so far as regards that noble, warlike garb, I ama perfect dandy. I have not a single piece of gold lace too much; myweapon is costly, but simply wrought; the fur on my cap is neither toolong nor too short; my leggings and shoes are matched with all possibleaccuracy; my tunic is white; my Circassian jacket, dark-brown. I havelong studied the mountaineer seat on horseback, and in no way is itpossible to flatter my vanity so much as by acknowledging my skill inhorsemanship in the Cossack mode. I keep four horses--one for myself andthree for my friends, so that I may not be bored by having to roam aboutthe fields all alone; they take my horses with pleasure, and never ridewith me. 

It was already six o'clock in the evening, when I remembered that it wastime to dine. My horse was jaded. I rode out on to the road leadingfrom Pyatigorsk to the German colony, to which the society of thewatering-place frequently rides en piquenique. The road meanders betweenbushes and descends into little ravines, through which flow noisy brooksbeneath the shade of tall grasses. All around, in an amphitheatre, rise the blue masses of Mount Beshtau and the Zmeiny, Zhelezny and LysyMountains. [26] Descending into one of those ravines, I halted to watermy horse. At that moment a noisy and glittering cavalcade made itsappearance upon the road--the ladies in black and dark-blue ridinghabits, the cavaliers in costumes which formed a medley of theCircassian and Nizhegorodian. [27] In front rode Grushnitski withPrincess Mary. 

The ladies at the watering-place still believe in attacks by Circassiansin broad daylight; for that reason, doubtless, Grushnitski had slunga sabre and a pair of pistols over his soldier's cloak. He lookedridiculous enough in that heroic attire. 

I was concealed from their sight by a tall bush, but I was able to seeeverything through the leaves, and to guess from the expression of theirfaces that the conversation was of a sentimental turn. At lengththey approached the slope; Grushnitski took hold of the bridle of thePrincess's horse, and then I heard the conclusion of their conversation:

"And you wish to remain all your life in the Caucasus?" said PrincessMary. 

"What is Russia to me?" answered her cavalier. "A country in whichthousands of people, because they are richer than I, will look upon mewith contempt, whilst here--here this thick cloak has not prevented myacquaintance with you". .. 

"On the contrary". .. Said Princess Mary, blushing. 

Grushnitski's face was a picture of delight. He continued:

"Here, my life will flow along noisily, unobserved, and rapidly, underthe bullets of the savages, and if Heaven were every year to send me asingle bright glance from a woman's eyes--like that which--"

At that moment they came up to where I was. I struck my horse with thewhip and rode out from behind the bush. .. 

"Mon Dieu, un circassien!". .. Exclaimed Princess Mary in terror. 

In order completely to undeceive her, I replied in French, with a slightbow:

"Ne craignez rien, madame, je ne suis pas plus dangereux que votrecavalier". .. 

She grew embarrassed--but at what? At her own mistake, or because myanswer struck her as insolent? I should like the latter hypothesis to becorrect. Grushnitski cast a discontented glance at me. 

Late in the evening, that is to say, about eleven o'clock, I went for awalk in the lilac avenue of the boulevard. The town was sleeping; lightswere gleaming in only a few windows. On three sides loomed the blackridges of the cliffs, the spurs of Mount Mashuk, upon the summit ofwhich an ominous cloud was lying. The moon was rising in the east; inthe distance, the snow-clad mountains glistened like a fringe of silver. The calls of the sentries mingled at intervals with the roar of the hotsprings let flow for the night. At times the loud clattering of a horserang out along the street, accompanied by the creaking of a Nagai wagonand the plaintive burden of a Tartar song. 

I sat down upon a bench and fell into a reverie. .. I felt the necessityof pouring forth my thoughts in friendly conversation. .. But withwhom?. .. 

"What is Vera doing now?" I wondered. 

I would have given much to press her hand at that moment. 

All at once I heard rapid and irregular steps. .. Grushnitski, nodoubt!. .. So it was!

"Where have you come from?"

"From Princess Ligovski's, " he said very importantly. "How well Marydoes sing!". .. 

"Do you know?" I said to him. "I wager that she does not know that youare a cadet. She thinks you are an officer reduced to the ranks". .. 

"Maybe so. What is that to me!". .. He said absently. 

"No, I am only saying so". .. 

"But, do you know that you have made her terribly angry to-day? Sheconsidered it an unheard-of piece of insolence. It was only withdifficulty that I was able to convince her that you are so well bredand know society so well that you could not have had any intention ofinsulting her. She says that you have an impudent glance, and that youhave certainly a very high opinion of yourself. "

"She is not mistaken. .. But do you not want to defend her?"

"I am sorry I have not yet the right to do so". .. 

"Oho!" I said to myself, "evidently he has hopes already. "

"However, it is the worse for you, " continued Grushnitski; "it will bedifficult for you to make their acquaintance now, and what a pity! It isone of the most agreeable houses I know". .. 

I smiled inwardly. 

"The most agreeable house to me now is my own, " I said, with a yawn, andI got up to go. 

"Confess, though, you repent?". .. 

"What nonsense! If I like I will be at Princess Ligovski's to-morrowevening!". .. 

"We shall see". .. 

"I will even begin to pay my addresses to Princess Mary, if you wouldlike me to". .. 

"Yes, if she is willing to speak to you". .. 

"I am only awaiting the moment when she will be bored by yourconversation. .. Goodbye". .. 

"Well, I am going for a stroll; I could not go to sleep now foranything. .. Look here, let us go to the restaurant instead, there iscardplaying going on there. .. What I need now is violent sensations". .. 

"I hope you will lose". .. 

I went home. 

CHAPTER IV. 21st May. 

NEARLY a week has passed, and I have not yet made the Ligovskis'acquaintance. I am awaiting a convenient opportunity. Grushnitskifollows Princess Mary everywhere like a shadow. Their conversations areinterminable; but, when will she be tired of him?. .. Her mother pays noattention, because he is not a man who is in a position to marry. Beholdthe logic of mothers! I have caught two or three tender glances--thismust be put a stop to. 

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 downour tumblers at the same time, and as she bent forward she whispered tome:

"You are not going to make the Ligovskis' acquaintance?. .. It is onlythere that we can meet". .. 

A reproach!. .. How tiresome! But I have deserved it. .. 

By the way, there is a subscription ball tomorrow in the saloon of therestaurant, and I will dance the mazurka with Princess Mary. 

CHAPTER V. 29th May. 

THE saloon of the restaurant was converted into the assembly room of aNobles' Club. The company met at nine o'clock. Princess Ligovski and herdaughter were amongst the latest to make their appearance. Several ofthe ladies looked at Princess Mary with envy and malevolence, because she dresses with taste. Those who look upon themselves as thearistocracy of the place concealed their envy and attached themselves toher train. What else could be expected? Wherever there is a gatheringof women, the company is immediately divided into a higher and a lowercircle. 

Beneath the window, amongst a crowd of people, stood Grushnitski, pressing his face to the pane and never taking his eyes off hisdivinity. As she passed by, she gave him a hardly perceptible nod. Hebeamed like the sun. .. The first dance was a polonaise, after which themusicians struck up a waltz. Spurs began to jingle, and skirts to riseand whirl. 

I was standing behind a certain stout lady who was overshadowed byrose-coloured feathers. The magnificence of her dress reminded me of thetimes of the farthingale, and the motley hue of her by no means smoothskin, of the happy epoch of the black taffeta patch. An immense warton her neck was covered by a clasp. She was saying to her cavalier, acaptain of dragoons:

"That young Princess Ligovski is a most intolerable creature! Justfancy, she jostled against me and did not apologise, but even turnedround and stared at me through her lorgnette!. .. C'est impayable!. .. Andwhat has she to be proud of? It is time somebody gave her a lesson". .. 

"That will be easy enough, " replied the obliging captain, and hedirected his steps to the other room. 

I went up to Princess Mary immediately, and, availing myself of thelocal customs which allowed one to dance with a stranger, I invited herto waltz with me. 

She was scarcely able to keep from smiling and letting her triumph beseen; but quickly enough she succeeded in assuming an air of perfectindifference and even severity. Carelessly she let her hand fall upon myshoulder, inclined her head slightly to one side, and we began to dance. I have never known a waist more voluptuous and supple! Her fresh breathtouched my face; at times a lock of hair, becoming separated from itscompanions in the eddy of the waltz, glided over my burning cheek. .. 

I made three turns of the ballroom (she waltzes surprisingly well). She was out of breath, her eyes were dulled, her half-open lips werescarcely able to whisper the indispensable: "merci, monsieur. "

After a few moments' silence I said to her, assuming a very humble air:

"I have heard, Princess, that although quite unacquainted with you, Ihave already had the misfortune to incur your displeasure. .. That youhave considered me insolent. Can that possibly true?"

"Would you like to confirm me in that opinion now?" she answered, with an ironical little grimace--very becoming, however, to her mobilecountenance. 

"If I had the audacity to insult you in any way, then allow me to havethe still greater audacity to beg your pardon. .. And, indeed, I shouldvery much like to prove to you that you are mistaken in regard to me". .. 

"You will find that a rather difficult task". .. 

"But why?". .. 

"Because you never visit us and, most likely, there will not be manymore of these balls. "

"That means, " I thought, "that their doors are closed to me for ever. "

"You know, Princess, " I said to her, with a certain amount of vexation, "one should never spurn a penitent criminal: in his despair he maybecome twice as much a criminal as before. .. And then". .. 

Sudden laughter and whispering from the people around us caused me toturn my head and to interrupt my phrase. A few paces away from me stooda group of men, amongst them the captain of dragoons, who had manifestedintentions hostile to the charming Princess. He was particularly wellpleased with something or other, and was rubbing his hands, laughing andexchanging meaning glances with his companions. All at once a gentlemanin an evening-dress coat and with long moustaches and a red faceseparated himself from the crowd and directed his uncertain stepsstraight towards Princess Mary. He was drunk. Coming to a halt oppositethe embarrassed Princess and placing his hands behind his back, he fixedhis dull grey eyes upon her, and said in a hoarse treble:

"Permettez. .. But what is the good of that sort of thing here. .. All Ineed say is: I engage you for the mazurka". .. 

"Very well!" she replied in a trembling voice, throwing a beseechingglance around. Alas! Her mother was a long way off, and not one ofthe cavaliers of her acquaintance was near. A certain aide-de-campapparently saw the whole scene, but he concealed himself behind thecrowd in order not to be mixed up in the affair. 

"What?" said the drunken gentleman, winking to the captain of dragoons, who was encouraging him by signs. "Do you not wish to dance then?. .. Allthe same I again have the honour to engage you for the mazurka. .. Youthink, perhaps, that I am drunk! That is all right!. .. I can dance allthe easier, I assure you". .. 

I saw that she was on the point of fainting with fright and indignation. 

I went up to the drunken gentleman, caught him none too gently by thearm, and, looking him fixedly in the face, requested him to retire. "Because, " I added, "the Princess promised long ago to dance the mazurkawith me. "

"Well, then, there's nothing to be done! Another time!" he said, bursting out laughing, and he retired to his abashed companions, whoimmediately conducted him into another room. 

I was rewarded by a deep, wondrous glance. 

The Princess went up to her mother and told her the whole story. Thelatter sought me out among the crowd and thanked me. She informed methat she knew my mother and was on terms of friendship with half a dozenof my aunts. 

"I do not know how it has happened that we have not made youracquaintance up to now, " she added; "but confess, you alone are to blamefor that. You fight shy of everyone in a positively unseemly way. I hopethe air of my drawingroom will dispel your spleen. .. Do you not thinkso?"

I uttered one of the phrases which everybody must have ready for such anoccasion. 

The quadrilles dragged on a dreadfully long time. 

At last the music struck up from the gallery, Princess Mary and I tookup our places. 

I did not once allude to the drunken gentleman, or to my previousbehaviour, or to Grushnitski. The impression produced upon her by theunpleasant scene was gradually dispelled; her face brightened up; shejested very charmingly; her conversation was witty, without pretensionsto wit, vivacious and spontaneous; her observations were sometimesprofound. .. In a very involved sentence I gave her to understand that Ihad liked her for a long time. She bent her head and blushed slightly. 

"You are a strange man!" she said, with a forced laugh, lifting hervelvet eyes upon me. 

"I did not wish to make your acquaintance, " I continued, "because youare surrounded by too dense a throng of adorers, in which I was afraidof being lost to sight altogether. "

"You need not have been afraid; they are all very tiresome". .. 

"All? Not all, surely?"

She looked fixedly at me as if endeavouring to recollect something, thenblushed slightly again and finally pronounced with decision:

"All!"

"Even my friend, Grushnitski?"

"But is he your friend?" she said, manifesting some doubt. 

"Yes. "

"He, of course, does not come into the category of the tiresome". .. 

"But into that of the unfortunate!" I said, laughing. 

"Of course! But do you consider that funny? I should like you to be inhis place". .. 

"Well? I was once a cadet myself, and, in truth, it was the best time ofmy life!"

"Is he a cadet, then?". .. She said rapidly, and then added: "But Ithought". .. 

"What did you think?". .. 

"Nothing! Who is that lady?"

Thereupon the conversation took a different direction, and it did notreturn to the former subject. 

And now the mazurka came to an end and we separated--until we shouldmeet again. The ladies drove off in different directions. I went to getsome supper, and met Werner. 

"Aha!" he said: "so it is you! And yet you did not wish to make theacquaintance of Princess Mary otherwise than by saving her from certaindeath. "

"I have done better, " I replied. "I have saved her from fainting at theball". .. 

"How was that? Tell me. "

"No, guess!--O, you who guess everything in the world!"

CHAPTER VI. 30th May. 

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 ofridiculous rapture was shining in his eyes. He pressed my hand warmly, and said in a tragic voice:

"I thank you, Pechorin. .. You understand me?"

"No; but in any case it is not worth gratitude, " I answered, not having, in fact, any good deed upon my conscience. 

"What? But yesterday! Have you forgotten?. .. Mary has told meeverything". .. 

"Why! Have you everything in common so soon as this? Even gratitude?". .. 

"Listen, " said Grushnitski very earnestly; "pray do not make fun ofmy love, if you wish to remain my friend. .. You see, I love her to thepoint of madness. .. And I think--I hope--she loves me too. .. I have arequest to make of you. You will be at their house this evening; promiseme 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 divinein a moment our most secret thoughts, at another they cannot understandthe clearest hints. .. Take Princess Mary, now: yesterday her eyes, asthey rested upon me, were blazing with passion; to-day they are dull andcold". .. 

"That is possibly the result of the waters, " I replied. 

"You see the bad side of everything. .. Materialist, " he addedcontemptuously. "However, let us talk of other matters. "

And, satisfied with his bad pun, he cheered up. 

At nine o'clock we went to Princess Ligovski's together. 

Passing by Vera's windows, I saw her looking out. We threw a fleetingglance at each other. She entered the Ligovskis' drawing-room soon afterus. Princess Ligovski presented me to her, as a relation of her own. Teawas served. The guests were numerous, and the conversation was general. I endeavoured to please the Princess, jested, and made her laughheartily a few times. Princess Mary, also, was more than once on thepoint of bursting out laughing, but she restrained herself in order notto depart from the role she had assumed. She finds languor becoming toher, and perhaps she is not mistaken. Grushnitski appears to be veryglad that she is not infected by my gaiety. 

After tea we all went into the drawingroom. 

"Are you satisfied with my obedience, Vera?" I said as I was passingher. 

She threw me a glance full of love and gratitude. I have grownaccustomed to such glances; but at one time they constituted myfelicity. The Princess seated her daughter at the pianoforte, and allthe company begged her to sing. I kept silence, and, taking advantageof the hubbub, I went aside to the window with Vera, who wished tosay something of great importance to both of us. .. It turned out tobe--nonsense. .. 

Meanwhile my indifference was vexing Princess Mary, as I was able tomake out from a single angry, gleaming glance which she cast at me. .. Oh! I understand the method of conversation wonderfully well: mute butexpressive, brief but forceful!. .. 

She began to sing. She has a good voice, but she sings badly. .. However, I was not listening. 

Grushnitski, on the contrary, leaning his elbows on the grand piano, facing her, was devouring her with his eyes and saying in an undertoneevery minute: "Charmant! Delicieux!"

"Listen, " said Vera to me, "I do not wish you to make my husband'sacquaintance, but you must, without fail, make yourself agreeable tothe Princess; that will be an easy task for you: you can do anything youwish. It is only here that we shall see each other". .. 

"Only here?". .. 

She blushed and continued:

"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 verywell!. .. Oh! I beseech you: do not torture me, as before, with idledoubts and feigned coldness! It may be that I shall die soon; I feelthat I am growing weaker from day to day. .. And, yet, I cannot think ofthe future life, I think only of you. .. You men do not understand thedelights of a glance, of a pressure of the hand. .. But as for me, Iswear 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. "

Meanwhile, Princess Mary had finished her song. Murmurs of praise wereto be heard all around. I went up to her after all the other guests, andsaid something rather carelessly to her on the subject of her voice. 

She made a little grimace, pouting her lower lip, and dropped a verysarcastic curtsey. 

"That is all the more flattering, " she said, "because you have not beenlistening to me at all; but perhaps you do not like music?". .. 

"On the contrary, I do. .. After dinner, especially. "

"Grushnitski is right in saying that you have very prosaic tastes. .. AndI see that you like music in a gastronomic respect. "

"You are mistaken again: I am by no means an epicure. I have a mostwretched digestion. But music after dinner puts one to sleep, andto sleep after dinner is healthful; consequently I like music in amedicinal respect. In the evening, on the contrary, it excites my nervestoo 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 gaietyis unbecoming". .. 

She did not hear me to the end, but went away and sat besideGrushnitski, and they entered into a sort of sentimental conversation. Apparently the Princess answered his sage phrases rather absent-mindedlyand inconsequently, although endeavouring to show that she waslistening to him with attention, because sometimes he looked at her inastonishment, trying to divine the cause of the inward agitation whichwas expressed at times in her restless glance. .. 

But I have found you out, my dear Princess! Have a care! You want to payme back in the same coin, to wound my vanity--you will not succeed! Andif you declare war on me, I will be merciless!

In the course of the evening, I purposely tried a few times to join intheir conversation, but she met my remarks rather coldly, and, atlast, 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 havea presentiment. .. On making a woman's acquaintance I have alwaysunerringly guessed whether she would fall in love with me or not. 

The remaining part of the evening I spent at Vera's side, and talked tothe full about the old days. .. Why does she love me so much? In truth, Iam unable to say, all the more so because she is the only woman whohas understood me perfectly, with all my petty weaknesses and evilpassions. .. Can it be that wickedness is so attractive?. .. 

Grushnitski and I left the house together. In the street he took my arm, and, after a long silence, said:

"Well?"

"You are a fool, " I should have liked to answer. But I restrained myselfand only shrugged my shoulders. 

CHAPTER VII. 6th June. 

ALL these days I have not once departed from my system. Princess Maryhas come to like talking to me; I have told her a few of thestrange events of my life, and she is beginning to look on me asan extraordinary man. I mock at everything in the world, especiallyfeelings; and she is taking alarm. When I am present, she does not dareto embark upon sentimental discussions with Grushnitski, and already, ona few occasions, she has answered his sallies with a mocking smile. Butevery time that Grushnitski comes up to her I assume an air of meeknessand 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; onthe third--with Grushnitski. 

"You have very little vanity!" she said to me yesterday. "What makes youthink that I find Grushnitski the more entertaining?"

I answered that I was sacrificing my own pleasure for the sake of thehappiness of a friend. 

"And my pleasure, too, " she added. 

I looked at her intently and assumed a serious air. After that for thewhole day I did not speak a single word to her. .. In the evening, shewas pensive; this morning, at the well, more pensive still. When I wentup to her, she was listening absent-mindedly to Grushnitski, who wasapparently falling into raptures about Nature, but, so soon asshe perceived me, she began to laugh--at a most inopportunemoment--pretending not to notice me. I went on a little further andbegan stealthily to observe her. She turned away from her companion andyawned twice. Decidedly she had grown tired of Grushnitski--I will nottalk to her for another two days. 

CHAPTER VIII. 11th June. 

I OFTEN ask myself why I am so obstinately endeavouring to win the loveof a young girl whom I do not wish to deceive, and whom I will nevermarry. Why this woman-like coquetry? Vera loves me more than PrincessMary ever will. Had I regarded the latter as an invincible beauty, Ishould perhaps have been allured by the difficulty of the undertaking. .. 

However, there is no such difficulty in this case! Consequently, mypresent feeling is not that restless craving for love which torments usin the early days of our youth, flinging us from one woman toanother until we find one who cannot endure us. And then begins ourconstancy--that sincere, unending passion which may be expressedmathematically by a line falling from a point into space--the secret ofthat endlessness lying only in the impossibility of attaining the aim, that is to say, the end. 

From what motive, then, am I taking all this trouble?--Envy ofGrushnitski? Poor fellow!

He is quite undeserving of it. Or, is it the result of that ugly, butinvincible, feeling which causes us to destroy the sweet illusions ofour neighbour in order to have the petty satisfaction of saying to him, when, in despair, he asks what he is to believe:

"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, knowhow to die without tears and lamentations. "

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 perfumeat the kiss of the first ray of the sun. You should pluck the flower atthat moment, and, breathing its fragrance to the full, cast it upon theroad: perchance someone will pick it up! I feel within me that insatiatehunger which devours everything it meets upon the way; I look uponthe sufferings and joys of others only from the point of view of theirrelation to myself, regarding them as the nutriment which sustains myspiritual forces. I myself am no longer capable of committing folliesunder the influence of passion; with me, ambition has been repressed bycircumstances, but it has emerged in another form, because ambition isnothing more nor less than a thirst for power, and my chief pleasure isto make everything that surrounds me subject to my will. To arouse thefeeling of love, devotion and awe towards oneself--is not that the firstsign, and the greatest triumph, of power? To be the cause of sufferingand joy to another--without in the least possessing any definite rightto be so--is not that the sweetest food for our pride? And what ishappiness?--Satisfied pride. Were I to consider myself the best, themost powerful man in the world, I should be happy; were all to love me, I should find within me inexhaustible springs of love. Evil begetsevil; the first suffering gives us the conception of the satisfactionof torturing another. The idea of evil cannot enter the mind withoutarousing a desire to put it actually into practice. "Ideas are organicentities, " someone has said. The very fact of their birth endows themwith form, and that form is action. He in whose brain the most ideasare born accomplishes the most. From that cause a genius, chained to anofficial desk, must die or go mad, just as it often happens that a manof powerful constitution, and at the same time of sedentary life andsimple habits, dies of an apoplectic stroke. 

Passions are naught but ideas in their first development; they are anattribute of the youth of the heart, and foolish is he who thinks thathe will be agitated by them all his life. Many quiet rivers begin theircourse as noisy waterfalls, and there is not a single stream which willleap or foam throughout its way to the sea. That quietness, however, isfrequently the sign of great, though latent, strength. The fulness anddepth of feelings and thoughts do not admit of frenzied outbursts. Insuffering and in enjoyment the soul renders itself a strict account ofall it experiences and convinces itself that such things must be. Itknows that, but for storms, the constant heat of the sun would dry itup! It imbues itself with its own life--pets and punishes itself like afavourite child. It is only in that highest state of self-knowledge thata man can appreciate the divine justice. 

On reading over this page, I observe that I have made a wide digressionfrom my subject. .. But what matter?. .. You see, it is for myself that Iam writing this diary, and, consequently anything that I jot down in itwill in time be a valuable reminiscence for me. 

 . . . . . 

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 Wernercame in after him. 

"I do not congratulate you, " he said to Grushnitski. 

"Why not?"

"Because the soldier's cloak suits you very well, and you must confessthat an infantry uniform, made by one of the local tailors, will not addanything of interest to you. .. Do you not see? Hitherto, you have beenan exception, but now you will come under the general rule. "

"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 hopesthese epaulettes have lent me. .. Oh!. .. Epaulettes, epaulettes! Yourlittle stars are guiding stars! No! I am perfectly happy now!"

"Are you coming with us on our walk to the hollow?" I asked him. 

"I? Not on any account will I show myself to Princess Mary until myuniform is finished. "

"Would you like me to inform her of your happiness?"

"No, please, not a word. .. I want to give her a surprise". .. 

"Tell me, though, how are you getting on with her?"

He became embarrassed, and fell into thought; he would gladly havebragged and told lies, but his conscience would not let him; and, at thesame time, he was ashamed to confess the truth. 

"What do you think? Does she love you?". .. 

"Love me? Good gracious, Pechorin, what ideas you do have!. .. How couldshe possibly love me so soon?. .. And a well-bred woman, even if she isin love, will never say so". .. 

"Very well! And, I suppose, in your opinion, a well-bred man should alsokeep silence in regard to his passion?". .. 

"Ah, my dear fellow! There are ways of doing everything; often thingsmay remain unspoken, but yet may be guessed". .. 

"That is true. .. But the love which we read in the eyes does not pledgea woman to anything, whilst words. .. Have a care, Grushnitski, she isbefooling you!"

"She?" he answered, raising his eyes heavenward and smilingcomplacently. "I am sorry for you, Pechorin!". .. 

He took his departure. 

In the evening, a numerous company set off to walk to the hollow. 

In the opinion of the learned of Pyatigorsk, the hollow in question isnothing more nor less than an extinct crater. It is situated on aslope of Mount Mashuk, at the distance of a verst from the town, and isapproached by a narrow path between brushwood and rocks. In climbing upthe hill, I gave Princess Mary my arm, and she did not leave it duringthe whole excursion. 

Our conversation commenced with slander; I proceeded to pass inreview our present and absent acquaintances; at first I exposed theirridiculous, and then their bad, sides. My choler rose. I began in jest, and ended in genuine malice. At first she was amused, but afterwardsfrightened. 

"You are a dangerous man!" she said. "I would rather perish in thewoods under the knife of an assassin than under your tongue. .. In allearnestness I beg of you: when it comes into your mind to speak evil ofme, take a knife instead and cut my throat. I think you would not findthat a very difficult matter. "

"Am I like an assassin, then?". .. 

"You are worse". .. 

I fell into thought for a moment; then, assuming a deeply moved air, Isaid:

"Yes, such has been my lot from very childhood! All have read upon mycountenance the marks of bad qualities, which were not existent; butthey were assumed to exist--and they were born. I was modest--I wasaccused of slyness: I grew secretive. I profoundly felt both good andevil--no one caressed me, all insulted me: I grew vindictive. I wasgloomy--other children merry and talkative; I felt myself higher thanthey--I was rated lower: I grew envious. I was prepared to love thewhole world--no one understood me: I learned to hate. My colourlessyouth flowed by in conflict with myself and the world; fearing ridicule, I buried my best feelings in the depths of my heart, and there theydied. I spoke the truth--I was not believed: I began to deceive. Havingacquired a thorough knowledge of the world and the springs of society, Igrew skilled in the science of life; and I saw how others without skillwere happy, enjoying gratuitously the advantages which I so unweariedlysought. Then despair was born within my breast--not that despair whichis cured at the muzzle of a pistol, but the cold, powerless despairconcealed beneath the mask of amiability and a good-natured smile. Ibecame a moral cripple. One half of my soul ceased to exist; it driedup, evaporated, died, and I cut it off and cast it from me. The otherhalf 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 Ihave read you its epitaph. To many, epitaphs in general seem ridiculous, but to me they do not; especially when I remember what reposes beneaththem. I will not, however, ask you to share my opinion. If this outburstseems absurd to you, I pray you, laugh! I forewarn you that yourlaughter will not cause me the least chagrin. "

At that moment I met her eyes: tears were welling in them. Her arm, asit leaned upon mine, was trembling; her cheeks were aflame; she pitiedme! Sympathy--a feeling to which all women yield so easily, had dug itstalons into her inexperienced heart. During the whole excursion she waspreoccupied, and did not flirt with anyone--and that is a great sign!

We arrived at the hollow; the ladies left their cavaliers, but she didnot let go my arm. The witticisms of the local dandies failed to makeher laugh; the steepness of the declivity beside which she was standingcaused her no alarm, although the other ladies uttered shrill cries andshut their eyes. 

On the way back, I did not renew our melancholy conversation, but to myidle questions and jests she gave short and absent-minded answers. 

"Have you ever been in love?" I asked her at length. 

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 knowhow to begin. Her breast heaved. .. And, indeed, that was but natural!A muslin sleeve is a weak protection, and an electric spark was runningfrom my arm to hers. Almost all passions have their beginning in thatway, and frequently we are very much deceived in thinking that a womanloves us for our moral and physical merits; of course, these prepare andpredispose the heart for the reception of the holy flame, but for allthat it is the first touch that decides the matter. 

"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. 

We separated. 

She is dissatisfied with herself. She accuses herself of coldness. .. Oh, that is the first, the chief triumph!

To-morrow, she will be feeling a desire to recompense me. I know thewhole proceeding by heart already--that is what is so tiresome!

CHAPTER IX. 12th June. 

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 thesecrets of her heart to Vera: a happy choice, it must be confessed!

"I can guess what all this is leading to, " said Vera to me. "You hadbetter simply tell me at once that you are in love with her. "

"But supposing I am not in love with her?"

"Then why run after her, disturb her, agitate her imagination!. .. Oh, Iknow you well! Listen--if you wish me to believe you, come to Kislovodskin 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 mezzaninefloor. Princess Ligovski will be below us, and next door there is ahouse belonging to the same landlord, which has not yet been taken. .. Will you come?". .. 

I gave my promise, and this very same day I have sent to engage thelodgings. 

Grushnitski came to me at six o'clock and announced that his uniformwould be ready to-morrow, just in time for him to go to the ball in it. 

"At last I shall dance with her the whole evening through. .. And then Ishall talk to my heart's content, " he added. 

"When is the ball?"

"Why, to-morrow! Do you not know, then? A great festival--and the localauthorities have undertaken to organize it". .. 

"Let us go to the boulevard". .. 

"Not on any account, in this nasty cloak". .. 

"What! Have you ceased to love it?". .. 

I went out alone, and, meeting Princess Mary I asked her to keep themazurka for me. She seemed surprised and delighted. 

"I thought that you would only dance from necessity as on the lastoccasion, " she said, with a very charming smile. .. 

She does not seem to notice Grushnitski's absence at all. 

"You will be agreeably surprised to-morrow, " I said to her. 

"At what?"

"That is a secret. .. You will find it out yourself, at the ball. "

I finished up the evening at Princess Ligovski's; there were no otherguests present except Vera and a certain very amusing, little oldgentleman. I was in good spirits, and improvised various extraordinarystories. Princess Mary sat opposite me and listened to my nonsense withsuch deep, strained, and even tender attention that I grew ashamed ofmyself. What had become of her vivacity, her coquetry, her caprices, herhaughty mien, her contemptuous smile, her absentminded glance?. .. 

Vera noticed everything, and her sickly countenance was a picture ofprofound grief. She was sitting in the shadow by the window, buried in awide arm-chair. .. I pitied her. 

Then I related the whole dramatic story of our acquaintanceship, ourlove--concealing it all, of course, under fictitious names. 

So vividly did I portray my tenderness, my anxieties, my raptures; inso favourable a light did I exhibit her actions and her character, thatinvoluntarily she had to forgive me for my flirtation with PrincessMary. 

She rose, sat down beside us, and brightened up. .. And it was onlyat two o'clock in the morning that we remembered that the doctors hadordered her to go to bed at eleven. 

CHAPTER X. 13th June. 

HALF an hour before the ball, Grushnitski presented himself to me inthe full splendour of the uniform of the Line infantry. Attached tohis third button was a little bronze chain, on which hung a doublelorgnette. Epaulettes of incredible size were bent backwards and upwardsin the shape of a cupid's wings; his boots creaked; in his left hand heheld cinnamon-coloured kid gloves and a forage-cap, and with his right hekept every moment twisting his frizzled tuft of hair up into tiny curls. Complacency and at the same time a certain diffidence were depicted uponhis face. His festal appearance and proud gait would have made meburst out laughing, if such a proceeding had been in accordance with myintentions. 

He threw his cap and gloves on the table and began to pull downthe skirts of his coat and to put himself to rights before thelooking-glass. An enormous black handkerchief, which was twisted into avery high stiffener for his cravat, and the bristles of which supportedhis chin, stuck out an inch over his collar. It seemed to him to berather small, and he drew it up as far as his ears. As a result ofthat hard work--the collar of his uniform being very tight anduncomfortable--he grew red in the face. 

"They say you have been courting my princess terribly these last fewdays?" he said, rather carelessly and without looking at me. 

"'Where are we fools to drink tea!'" [271] I answered, repeating a petphrase of one of the cleverest rogues of past times, once celebrated insong by Pushkin. "Tell me, does my uniform fit me well?. .. Oh, thecursed Jew!. .. How it cuts me under the armpits!. .. Have you got anyscent?"

"Good gracious, what more do you want? You are reeking of rose pomade asit is. "

"Never mind. Give me some". .. 

He poured half a phial over his cravat, his pocket-handkerchief, hissleeves. 

"You are going to dance?" he asked. 

"I think not. "

"I am afraid I shall have to lead off the mazurka with Princess Mary, and I scarcely know a single figure". .. 

"Have you asked her to dance the mazurka with you?"

"Not yet". .. 

"Mind you are not forestalled". .. 

"Just so, indeed!" he said, striking his forehead. "Good-bye. .. I willgo and wait for her at the entrance. "

He seized his forage-cap and ran. 

Half an hour later I also set off. The street was dark and deserted. Around the assembly rooms, or inn--whichever you prefer--people werethronging. The windows were lighted up, the strains of the regimentalband were borne to me on the evening breeze. I walked slowly; I feltmelancholy. 

"Can it be possible, " I thought, "that my sole mission on earth is todestroy the hopes of others? Ever since I began to live and to act, itseems always to have been my fate to play a part in the ending of otherpeople's dramas, as if, but for me, no one could either die or fallinto despair! I have been the indispensable person of the fifth act;unwillingly I have played the pitiful part of an executioner or atraitor. What object has fate had in this?. .. Surely, I have not beenappointed by destiny to be an author of middle-class tragedies and familyromances, or to be a collaborator with the purveyor of stories--for the'Reader's Library, ' [272] for example?. .. How can I tell?. .. Are therenot many people who, in beginning life, think to end it like Lord Byronor Alexander the Great, and, nevertheless, remain Titular Councillors[273] all their days?"

Entering the saloon, I concealed myself in a crowd of men, and began tomake my observations. 

Grushnitski was standing beside Princess Mary and saying something withgreat warmth. She was listening to him absent-mindedly and looking abouther, her fan laid to her lips. Impatience was depicted upon her face, her eyes were searching all around for somebody. I went softly behindthem in order to listen to their conversation. 

"You torture me, Princess!" Grushnitski was saying. "You have changeddreadfully since I saw you last". .. 

"You, too, have changed, " she answered, casting a rapid glance at him, in which he was unable to detect the latent sneer. 

"I! Changed?. .. Oh, never! You know that such a thing is impossible!Whoever has seen you once will bear your divine image with him forever. "

"Stop". .. 

"But why will you not let me say to-night what you have so oftenlistened to with condescension--and just recently, too?". .. 

"Because I do not like repetitions, " she answered, laughing. 

"Oh! I have been bitterly mistaken!. .. I thought, fool that I was, thatthese epaulettes, at least, would give me the right to hope. .. No, it would have been better for me to have remained for ever in thatcontemptible soldier's cloak, to which, probably, I was indebted foryour attention". .. 

"As a matter of fact, the cloak is much more becoming to you". .. 

At that moment I went up and bowed to Princess Mary. She blushed alittle, and went on rapidly:

"Is it not true, Monsieur Pechorin, that the grey cloak suits MonsieurGrushnitski much better?". .. 

"I do not agree with you, " I answered: "he is more youthful-lookingstill in his uniform. "

That was a blow which Grushnitski could not bear: like all boys, hehas pretensions to being an old man; he thinks that the deep tracesof passions upon his countenance take the place of the lines scored byTime. He cast a furious glance at me, stamped his foot, and took himselfoff. 

"Confess now, " I said to Princess Mary: "that although he has alwaysbeen most ridiculous, yet not so long ago he seemed to you to beinteresting. .. In the grey cloak?". .. 

She cast her eyes down and made no reply. 

Grushnitski followed the Princess about during the whole evening anddanced either with her or vis-a-vis. He devoured her with his eyes, sighed, and wearied her with prayers and reproaches. After the thirdquadrille she had begun to hate him. 

"I did not expect this from you, " he said, coming up to me and taking myarm. 

"What?"

"You are going to dance the mazurka with her?" he asked in a solemntone. "She admitted it". .. 

"Well, what then? It is not a secret, is it"?

"Of course not. .. I ought to have expected such a thing from thatchit--that flirt. .. I will have my revenge, though!"

"You should lay the blame on your cloak, or your epaulettes, but whyaccuse her? What fault is it of hers that she does not like you anylonger?". .. 

"But why give me hopes?"

"Why did you hope? To desire and to strive after something--that I canunderstand! But who ever hopes?"

"You have won the wager, but not quite, " he said, with a malignantsmile. 

The mazurka began. Grushnitski chose no one but the Princess, othercavaliers chose her every minute: obviously a conspiracy against me--allthe better! She wants to talk to me, they are preventing her--she willwant to twice as much. 

I squeezed her hand once or twice; the second time she drew it awaywithout saying a word. 

"I shall sleep badly to-night, " she said to me when the mazurka wasover. 

"Grushnitski is to blame for that. "

"Oh, no!"

And her face became so pensive, so sad, that I promised myself that Iwould not fail to kiss her hand that evening. 

The guests began to disperse. As I was handing Princess Mary into hercarriage, I rapidly pressed her little hand to my lips. The night wasdark and nobody could see. 

I returned to the saloon very well satisfied with myself. 

The young men, Grushnitski amongst them, were having supper at thelarge table. As I came in, they all fell silent: evidently they had beentalking about me. Since the last ball many of them have been sulky withme, especially the captain of dragoons; and now, it seems, a hostilegang is actually being formed against me, under the command ofGrushnitski. He wears such a proud and courageous air. .. 

I am very glad; I love enemies, though not in the Christian sense. Theyamuse me, stir my blood. To be always on one's guard, to catch everyglance, the meaning of every word, to guess intentions, to crushconspiracies, to pretend to be deceived and suddenly with one blowto overthrow the whole immense and laboriously constructed edifice ofcunning and design--that is what I call life. 

During supper Grushnitski kept whispering and exchanging winks with thecaptain of dragoons. 

CHAPTER XI. 14th June. 

VERA and her husband left this morning for Kislovodsk. I met theircarriage as I was walking to Princess Ligovski's. Vera nodded to me:reproach was in her glance. 

Who is to blame, then? Why will she not give me an opportunity ofseeing her alone? Love is like fire--if not fed it dies out. Perchance, jealousy will accomplish what my entreaties have failed to do. 

I stayed a whole hour at Princess Ligovski's. Mary has not been out, sheis ill. In the evening she was not on the boulevard. The newly formedgang, armed with lorgnettes, has in very fact assumed a menacing aspect. I am glad that Princess Mary is ill; they might be guilty of someimpertinence towards her. Grushnitski goes about with dishevelled locks, and wears an appearance of despair: he is evidently afflicted, as amatter of fact; his vanity especially has been injured. But, you see, there are some people in whom even despair is diverting!. .. 

On my way home I noticed that something was lacking. I have not seenher! She is ill! Surely I have not fallen in love with her in realearnest?. .. What nonsense!

CHAPTER XII. 15th June. 

AT eleven o'clock in the morning--the hour at which Princess Ligovskiis usually perspiring in the Ermolov baths--I walked past her house. Princess Mary was sitting pensively at the window; on seeing me shesprang up. 

I entered the ante-room, there was nobody there, and, availing myself ofthe freedom afforded by the local customs, I made my way, unannounced, into the drawing-room. 

Princess Mary's charming countenance was shrouded with a dull pallor. She was standing by the pianoforte, leaning one hand on the back of anarm-chair; her hand was very faintly trembling. I went up to her softlyand said:

"You are angry with me?". .. 

She lifted a deep, languid glance upon me and shook her head. Her lipswere about to utter something, but failed; her eyes filled with tears;she sank into the arm-chair and buried her face in her hands. 

"What is the matter with you?" I said, taking her hand. 

"You do not respect me!. .. Oh, leave me!". .. 

I took a few steps. .. She drew herself up in the chair, her eyessparkled. 

I stopped still, took hold of the handle of the door, and said:

"Forgive me, Princess. I have acted like a madman. .. It will not happenanother time; I shall see to that. .. But how can you know what has beentaking place hitherto within my soul? That you will never learn, and somuch the better for you. Farewell. "

As I was going out, I seemed to hear her weeping. 

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. 

Werner came to see me. 

"Is it true, " he asked, "that you are going to marry Princess Mary?"

"What?"

"The whole town is saying so. All my patients are occupied with thatimportant piece of news; but you know what these patients are: they knoweverything. "

"This is one of Grushnitski's tricks, " I said to myself. 

"To prove the falsity of these rumours, doctor, I may mention, as asecret, that I am moving to Kislovodsk to-morrow". .. 

"And Princess Mary, too?"

"No, she remains here another week". .. 

"So you are not going to get married?". .. 

"Doctor, doctor! Look at me! Am I in the least like a bridegroom, or anysuch thing?"

"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 suchoccasions. .. And so, as a friend, I should advise you to be morecautious. The air of these parts is very dangerous. How many handsomeyoung men, worthy of a better fate, have I not seen departing from herestraight to the altar!. .. Would you believe me, they were even going tofind a wife for me! That is to say, one person was--a lady belongingto this district, who had a very pale daughter. I had the misfortune totell her that the latter's colour would be restored after wedlock, andthen with tears of gratitude she offered me her daughter's hand and thewhole of her own fortune--fifty souls, [28] I think. But I replied thatI was unfit for such an honour. "

Werner left, fully convinced that he had put me on my guard. 

I gathered from his words that various ugly rumours were already beingspread about the town on the subject of Princess Mary and myself:Grushnitski shall smart for this!

CHAPTER XIII. 18th June. 

I HAVE been in Kislovodsk three days now. Every day I see Vera at thewell and out walking. In the morning, when I awake, I sit by my windowand direct my lorgnette at her balcony. She has already been dressedlong ago, and is waiting for the signal agreed upon. We meet, as thoughunexpectedly, in the garden which slopes down from our houses to thewell. The life-giving mountain air has brought back her colour and herstrength. Not for nothing is Narzan called the "Spring of Heroes. " Theinhabitants aver that the air of Kislovodsk predisposes the heart tolove and that all the romances which have had their beginning at thefoot of Mount Mashuk find their consummation here. And, in veryfact, everything here breathes of solitude; everything has an air ofsecrecy--the thick shadows of the linden avenues, bending over thetorrent which falls, noisy and foaming, from flag to flag and cleavesitself a way between the mountains now becoming clad with verdure--themist-filled, silent ravines, with their ramifications straggling awayin all directions--the freshness of the aromatic air, laden withthe fragrance of the tall southern grasses and the white acacia--thenever-ceasing, sweetly-slumberous babble of the cool brooks, which, meeting at the end of the valley, flow along in friendly emulation, andfinally fling themselves into the Podkumok. On this side, the ravine iswider and becomes converted into a verdant dell, through which windsthe dusty road. Every time I look at it, I seem to see a carriage comingalong and a rosy little face looking out of the carriage-window. Manycarriages have already driven by--but still there is no sign of thatparticular one. The village which lies behind the fortress has becomepopulous. In the restaurant, built upon a hill a few paces distant frommy lodgings, lights are beginning to flash in the evening through thedouble row of poplars; noise and the jingling of glasses resound tilllate at night. 

In no place are such quantities of Kakhetian wine and mineral watersdrunk as here. 

 "And many are willing to mix the two, But that is a thing I never do. "

Every day Grushnitski and his gang are to be found brawling in the inn, and he has almost ceased to greet me. 

He only arrived yesterday, and has already succeeded in quarrelling withthree old men who were going to take their places in the baths beforehim. 

Decidedly, his misfortunes are developing a warlike spirit within him. 

CHAPTER XIV. 22nd June. 

AT last they have arrived. I was sitting by the window when I heard theclattering 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 athing might be expected of me. 

I dined at their house. Princess Ligovski looked at me with muchtenderness, and did not leave her daughter's side. .. A bad sign! On theother 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 inorder to chagrin her rival? I remember that once a woman loved mesimply because I was in love with another woman. There is nothing moreparadoxical than the female mind; it is difficult to convince a woman ofanything; they have to be led into convincing themselves. The order ofthe proofs by which they demolish their prejudices is most original;to learn their dialectic it is necessary to overthrow in your own mindevery scholastic rule of logic. For example, the usual way:

"This man loves me; but I am married: therefore I must not love him. "

The woman's way:

"I must not love him, because I am married; but he lovesme--therefore". .. 

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, afterthese, the heart--if there is such a thing. 

What if these notes should one day meet a woman's eye?

"Slander!" she will exclaim indignantly. 

Ever since poets have written and women have read them (for which thepoets should be most deeply grateful) women have been called angels somany times that, in very truth, in their simplicity of soul, they havebelieved the compliment, forgetting that, for money, the same poets haveglorified Nero as a demigod. .. 

It would be unreasonable were I to speak of women with such malignity--Iwho have loved nothing else in the world--I who have always been readyto sacrifice for their sake ease, ambition, life itself. .. But, you see, I am not endeavouring, in a fit of vexation and injured vanity, to pluckfrom them the magic veil through which only an accustomed glance canpenetrate. No, all that I say about them is but the result of

 "A mind which coldly hath observed, A heart which bears the stamp of woe. " [29]

Women ought to wish that all men knew them as well as I because I haveloved them a hundred times better since I have ceased to be afraid ofthem and have comprehended their little weaknesses. 

By the way: the other day, Werner compared women to the enchanted forestof which Tasso tells in his "Jerusalem Delivered. " [30]

"So soon as you approach, " he said, "from all directions terrors, suchas I pray Heaven may preserve us from, will take wing at you: duty, pride, decorum, public opinion, ridicule, contempt. .. You must simply gostraight on without looking at them; gradually the monsters disappear, and, before you, opens a bright and quiet glade, in the midst of whichblooms the green myrtle. On the other hand, woe to you if, at the firststeps, your heart trembles and you turn back!"

CHAPTER XV. 24th June. 

THIS evening has been fertile in events. About three versts fromKislovodsk, in the gorge through which the Podkumok flows, there isa cliff called the Ring. It is a naturally formed gate, rising upona lofty hill, and through it the setting sun throws its last flamingglance upon the world. A numerous cavalcade set off thither to gaze atthe sunset through the rock-window. To tell the truth, not one of themwas thinking about the sun. I rode beside Princess Mary. On the wayhome, we had to ford the Podkumok. Mountain streams, even thesmallest, are dangerous; especially so, because the bottom is a perfectkaleidoscope: it changes every day owing to the pressure of the current;where yesterday there was a rock, to-day there is a cavity. I tookPrincess Mary's horse by the bridle and led it into the water, whichcame no higher than its knees. We began to move slowly in a slantingdirection against the current. It is a well-known fact that, in crossingrapid streamlets, you should never look at the water, because, if youdo, your head begins to whirl directly. I forgot to warn Princess Maryof that. 

We had reached the middle and were right in the vortex, when suddenlyshe reeled in her saddle. 

"I feel ill!" she said in a faint voice. 

I bent over to her rapidly and threw my arm around her supple waist. 

"Look up!" I whispered. "It is nothing; just be brave! I am with you. "

She grew better; she was about to disengage herself from my arm, butI clasped her tender, soft figure in a still closer embrace; my cheekalmost touched hers, from which was wafted flame. 

"What are you doing to me?. .. Oh, Heaven!". .. 

I paid no attention to her alarm and confusion, and my lips touched hertender cheek. She shuddered, but said nothing. We were riding behind theothers: nobody saw us. 

When we made our way out on the bank, the horses were all put to thetrot. Princess Mary kept hers back; I remained beside her. It wasevident that my silence was making her uneasy, but I swore to myselfthat I would not speak a single word--out of curiosity. I wanted to seehow she would extricate herself from that embarrassing position. 

"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, toexcite 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 tendertrustfulness; "there is nothing in me which would preclude respect; isit not so? Your presumptuous action. .. I must, I must forgive youfor it, because I permitted it. .. Answer, speak, I want to hear yourvoice!". .. 

There was such womanly impatience in her last words that, involuntarily, I smiled; happily it was beginning to grow dusk. .. I made no answer. 

"You are silent!" she continued; "you wish, perhaps, that I should bethe first to tell you that I love you. ". .. 

I remained silent. 

"Is that what you wish?" she continued, turning rapidly towards me. .. . There was something terrible in the determination of her glance andvoice. 

"Why?" I answered, shrugging my shoulders. 

She struck her horse with her riding-whip and set off at full gallopalong the narrow, dangerous road. It all happened so quickly that I wasscarcely able to overtake her, and then only by the time she had joinedthe rest of the company. 

All the way home she was continually talking and laughing. Therewas something feverish in her movements; not once did she look in mydirection. Everybody observed her unusual gaiety. Princess Ligovskirejoiced inwardly as she looked at her daughter. However, the lattersimply has a fit of nerves: she will spend a sleepless night, and willweep. 

This thought affords me measureless delight: there are moments when Iunderstand the Vampire. .. And yet I am reputed to be a good fellow, andI strive to earn that designation!

On dismounting, the ladies went into Princess Ligovski's house. I wasexcited, and I galloped to the mountains in order to dispel thethoughts which had thronged into my head. The dewy evening breathed anintoxicating coolness. The moon was rising from behind the dark summits. Each step of my unshod horse resounded hollowly in the silence of thegorges. I watered the horse at the waterfall, and then, after greedilyinhaling once or twice the fresh air of the southern night. 

I set off on my way back. I rode through the village. The lights in thewindows were beginning to go out; the sentries on the fortress-rampartand the Cossacks in the surrounding pickets were calling out in drawlingtones to one another. 

In one of the village houses, built at the edge of a ravine, I noticedan extraordinary illumination. At times, discordant murmurs and shoutingcould be heard, proving that a military carouse was in full swing. Idismounted and crept up to the window. The shutter had not been madefast, and I could see the banqueters and catch what they were saying. They were talking about me. 

The captain of dragoons, flushed with wine, struck the table with hisfist, demanding attention. 

"Gentlemen!" he said, "this won't do! Pechorin must be taught a lesson!These Petersburg fledglings always carry their heads high until they geta slap in the face! He thinks that because he always wears clean glovesand 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 acoward--yes, a coward!"

"I think so too, " said Grushnitski. "He is fond of getting himself outof trouble by pretending to be only having a joke. I once gave him sucha talking to that anyone else in his place would have cut me to pieceson the spot. But Pechorin turned it all to the ridiculous side. I, ofcourse, did not call him out because that was his business, but he didnot care to have anything more to do with it. "

"Grushnitski is angry with him for having captured Princess Mary fromhim, " somebody said. 

"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 isagainst my rules to compromise a girl. "

"Yes, I assure you that he is a coward of the first water, I meanPechorin, not Grushnitski--but Grushnitski is a fine fellow, and, besides, he is my true friend!" the captain of dragoons went on. 

"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". .. 

"We would; but how?"

"Listen here, then: Grushnitski in particular is angry withhim--therefore to Grushnitski falls the chief part. He will pick aquarrel over some silly trifle or other, and will challenge Pechorinto a duel. .. Wait a bit; here is where the joke comes in. .. He willchallenge him to a duel; very well! The whole proceeding--challenge, preparations, conditions--will be as solemn and awe-inspiring aspossible--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 themsix paces apart, devil take it! Are you agreed, gentlemen?"

"Splendid idea!. .. Agreed!. .. And why not?". .. Came from all sides. 

"And you, Grushnitski?"

Tremblingly I awaited Grushnitski's answer. I was filled with cold rageat the thought that, but for an accident, I might have made myself thelaughing-stock of those fools. If Grushnitski had not agreed, I shouldhave thrown myself upon his neck; but, after an interval of silence, he rose from his place, extended his hand to the captain, and said verygravely:

"Very well, I agree!"

It would be difficult to describe the enthusiasm of that honourablecompany. 

I returned home, agitated by two different feelings. The first wassorrow. 

"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 tocreate animosity?"

And I felt a venomous rage gradually filling my soul. 

"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 theapprobation of your foolish comrades. I am not your toy!". .. 

I got no sleep that night. By daybreak I was as yellow as an orange. 

In the morning I met Princess Mary at the well. 

"You are ill?" she said, looking intently at me. 

"I did not sleep last night. "

"Nor I either. .. I was accusing you. .. Perhaps groundlessly. But explainyourself, I can forgive you everything". .. 

"Everything?". .. 

"Everything. .. Only speak the truth. .. And be quick. .. You see, Ihave been thinking a good deal, trying to explain, to justify, yourbehaviour. Perhaps you are afraid of opposition on the part of myrelations. .. That will not matter. When they learn". .. 

Her voice shook. 

"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 Ilove. .. Oh, answer quickly--have pity. .. You do not despise me--do you?"

She seized my hand. 

Princess Ligovski was walking in front of us with Vera's husband, andhad not seen anything; but we might have been observed by some of theinvalids who were strolling about--the most inquisitive gossips of allinquisitive folk--and I rapidly disengaged my hand from her passionatepressure. 

"I will tell you the whole truth, " I answered. "I will not justifymyself, nor explain my actions: I do not love you. "

Her lips grew slightly pale. 

"Leave me, " she said, in a scarcely audible voice. 

I shrugged my shoulders, turned round, and walked away. 

CHAPTER XVI. 25th June. 

I SOMETIMES despise myself. .. Is not that the reason why I despiseothers also?. .. I have grown incapable of noble impulses; I am afraid ofappearing ridiculous to myself. In my place, another would have offeredPrincess Mary son coeur et sa fortune; but over me the word "marry" hasa kind of magical power. However passionately I love a woman, if sheonly gives me to feel that I have to marry her--then farewell, love! Myheart is turned to stone, and nothing will warm it anew. I am preparedfor any other sacrifice but that; my life twenty times over, nay, myhonour I would stake on the fortune of a card. .. But my freedom I willnever sell. Why do I prize it so highly? What is there in it to me? Forwhat am I preparing myself? What do I hope for from the future?. .. Intruth, absolutely nothing. It is a kind of innate dread, an inexplicableprejudice. .. There are people, you know, who have an unaccountable dreadof 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 medeath from a wicked wife. I was profoundly struck by her words at thetime: an irresistible repugnance to marriage was born within my soul. .. Meanwhile, something tells me that her prediction will be realized; Iwill try, at all events, to arrange that it shall be realized as late inlife as possible. 

CHAPTER XVII. 26th June. 

YESTERDAY, the conjurer Apfelbaum arrived here. A long placard made itsappearance on the door of the restaurant, informing the most respectedpublic that the above-mentioned marvellous conjurer, acrobat, chemist, and optician would have the honour to give a magnificent performance onthe present day at eight o'clock in the evening, in the saloon of theNobles' Club (in other words, the restaurant); tickets--two rubles and ahalf each. 

Everyone intends to go and see the marvellous conjurer; even PrincessLigovski has taken a ticket for herself, in spite of her daughter beingill. 

After dinner to-day, I walked past Vera's windows; she was sitting byherself on the balcony. A note fell at my feet:

"Come to me at ten o'clock this evening by the large staircase. Myhusband has gone to Pyatigorsk and will not return before to-morrowmorning. My servants and maids will not be at home; I have distributedtickets to all of them, and to the princess's servants as well. I awaityou; come without fail. "

"Aha!" I said to myself, "so then it has turned out at last as I thoughtit would. "

At eight o'clock I went to see the conjurer. The public assembled beforethe stroke of nine. The performance began. On the back rows of chairsI recognized Vera's and Princess Ligovski's menservants and maids. Theywere all there, every single one. Grushnitski, with his lorgnette, wassitting in the front row, and the conjurer had recourse to him everytime he needed a handkerchief, a watch, a ring and so forth. 

For some time past, Grushnitski has ceased to bow to me, and to-dayhe has looked at me rather insolently once or twice. It will all beremembered to him when we come to settle our scores. 

Before ten o'clock had struck, I stood up and went out. 

It was dark outside, pitch dark. Cold, heavy clouds were lying on thesummit of the surrounding mountains, and only at rare intervals didthe dying breeze rustle the tops of the poplars which surroundedthe restaurant. People were crowding at the windows. I went down themountain and, turning in under the gate, I hastened my pace. Suddenly itseemed to me that somebody was following my steps. I stopped and lookedround. It was impossible to make out anything in the darkness. However, out of caution, I walked round the house, as if taking a stroll. PassingPrincess Mary's windows, I again heard steps behind me; a man wrapped ina cloak ran by me. That rendered me uneasy, but I crept up to the flightof steps, and hastily mounted the dark staircase. A door opened, and alittle hand seized mine. .. 

"Nobody has seen you?" said Vera in a whisper, clinging to me. 

"Nobody. "

"Now do you believe that I love you? Oh! I have long hesitated, longtortured myself. .. But you can do anything you like with me. "

Her heart was beating violently, her hands were cold as ice. She brokeout into complaints and jealous reproaches. She demanded that I shouldconfess everything to her, saying that she would bear my faithlessnesswith submission, because her sole desire was that I should be happy. Idid not quite believe that, but I calmed her with oaths, promises and soon. 

"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!". .. 

*****

About two o'clock in the morning I opened the window and, tying twoshawls 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'sroom. Something drew me towards that window. The curtain was not quitedrawn, and I was able to cast a curious glance into the interior of theroom. Mary was sitting on her bed, her hands crossed upon her knees;her thick hair was gathered up under a lace-frilled nightcap; her whiteshoulders were covered by a large crimson kerchief, and her little feetwere hidden in a pair of many-coloured Persian slippers. She was sittingquite still, her head sunk upon her breast; on a little table in frontof her was an open book; but her eyes, fixed and full of inexpressiblegrief, seemed for the hundredth time to be skimming the same page whilsther thoughts were far away. 

At that moment somebody stirred behind a shrub. I leaped from thebalcony on to the sward. An invisible hand seized me by the shoulder. 

"Aha!" said a rough voice: "caught!. .. I'll teach you to be enteringprincesses' rooms at night!"

"Hold him fast!" exclaimed another, springing out from a corner. 

It was Grushnitski and the captain of dragoons. 

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 coveredthe slope opposite our houses were known to me. 

"Thieves, guard!". .. They cried. 

A gunshot rang out; a smoking wad fell almost at my feet. 

Within a minute I was in my own room, undressed and in bed. Mymanservant had only just locked the door when Grushnitski and thecaptain began knocking for admission. 

"Pechorin! Are you asleep? Are you there?". .. Cried the captain. 

"I am in bed, " I answered angrily. 

"Get up! Thieves!. .. Circassians!". .. 

"I have a cold, " I answered. "I am afraid of catching a chill. "

They went away. I had gained no useful purpose by answering them: theywould have been looking for me in the garden for another hour or so. 

Meanwhile the alarm became terrific. A Cossack galloped up from thefortress. The commotion was general; Circassians were looked for inevery shrub--and of course none were found. Probably, however, a goodmany people were left with the firm conviction that, if only morecourage and despatch had been shown by the garrison, at least a score ofbrigands would have failed to get away with their lives. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 27th June. 

THIS morning, at the well, the sole topic of conversation was thenocturnal attack by the Circassians. I drank the appointed number ofglasses of Narzan water, and, after sauntering a few times about thelong linden avenue, I met Vera's husband, who had just arrived fromPyatigorsk. He took my arm and we went to the restaurant for breakfast. He was dreadfully uneasy about his wife. 

"What a terrible fright she had last night, " he said. "Of course, it wasbound to happen just at the very time when I was absent. "

We sat down to breakfast near the door leading into a corner-room inwhich about a dozen young men were sitting. Grushnitski was amongstthem. For the second time destiny provided me with the opportunity ofoverhearing a conversation which was to decide his fate. He did notsee me, and, consequently, it was impossible for me to suspect him ofdesign; but that only magnified his fault in my eyes. 

"Is it possible, though, that they were really Circassians?" somebodysaid. "Did anyone see them?"

"I will tell you the whole truth, " answered Grushnitski: "only please donot betray me. This is how it was: yesterday, a certain man, whose nameI will not tell you, came up to me and told me that, at ten o'clock inthe evening, he had seen somebody creeping into the Ligovskis' house. Imust 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 luckyman. "

I confess I was frightened, although my companion was very busilyengaged with his breakfast: he might have heard things which he wouldhave found rather displeasing, if Grushnitski had happened to guess thetruth; but, blinded by jealousy, the latter did not even suspect it. 

"So, do you see?" Grushnitski continued. "We set off, taking with us agun, 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 glassdoor which is behind the pillar; it was not out of the window that hecame, because the window had remained unopened--at length, I say, we sawsomeone getting down from the balcony. .. What do you think of PrincessMary--eh? Well, I admit, it is hardly what you might expect from Moscowladies! After that what can you believe? We were going to seize him, buthe broke away and darted like a hare into the shrubs. Thereupon I firedat him. "

There was a general murmur of incredulity. 

"You do not believe it?" he continued. "I give you my word of honour asa gentleman that it is all perfectly true, and, in proof, I will tellyou the man's name if you like. "

"Tell us, tell us, who was he?" came from all sides. 

"Pechorin, " answered Grushnitski. 

At that moment he raised his eyes--I was standing in the doorwayopposite to him. He grew terribly red. I went up to him and said, slowlyand distinctly:

"I am very sorry that I did not come in before you had given your wordof honour in confirmation of a most abominable calumny: my presencewould have saved you from that further act of baseness. "

Grushnitski jumped up from his seat and seemed about to fly into apassion. 

"I beg you, " I continued in the same tone: "I beg you at once to retractwhat you have said; you know very well that it is all an invention. Ido not think that a woman's indifference to your brilliant merits shoulddeserve so terrible a revenge. Bethink you well: if you maintain yourpresent attitude, you will lose the right to the name of gentleman andwill risk your life. "

Grushnitski stood before me in violent agitation, his eyes cast down. But the struggle between his conscience and his vanity was of shortduration. The captain of dragoons, who was sitting beside him, nudgedhim with his elbow. Grushnitski started, and answered rapidly, withoutraising his eyes:

"My dear sir, what I say, I mean, and I am prepared to repeat. .. I amnot afraid of your menaces and am ready for anything. "

"The latter you have already proved, " I answered coldly; and, taking thecaptain of dragoons by the arm, I left the room. 

"What do you want?" asked the captain. 

"You are Grushnitski's friend and will no doubt be his second?"

The captain bowed very gravely. 

"You have guessed rightly, " he answered. 

"Moreover, I am bound to be his second, because the insult offeredto him touches myself also. I was with him last night, " he added, straightening up his stooping figure. 

"Ah! So it was you whose head I struck so clumsily?". .. 

He turned yellow in the face, then blue; suppressed rage was portrayedupon his countenance. 

"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 hisfury. 

On the restaurant-steps I met Vera's husband. Apparently he had beenwaiting for me. 

He seized my hand with a feeling akin to rapture. 

"Noble young man!" he said, with tears in his eyes. "I have heardeverything. What a scoundrel! Ingrate!. .. Just fancy such peoplebeing admitted into a decent household after this! Thank God I have nodaughters! But she for whom you are risking your life will reward you. Be assured of my constant discretion, " he continued. "I have been youngmyself and have served in the army: I know that these affairs must taketheir course. Good-bye. "

Poor fellow! He is glad that he has no daughters!. .. 

I went straight to Werner, found him at home, and told him the wholestory--my relations with Vera and Princess Mary, and the conversationwhich I had overheard and from which I had learned the intention ofthese gentlemen to make a fool of me by causing me to fight a duel withblank cartridges. But, now, the affair had gone beyond the bounds ofjest; they probably had not expected that it would turn out like this. 

The doctor consented to be my second; I gave him a few directions withregard to the conditions of the duel. He was to insist upon theaffair being managed with all possible secrecy, because, although I amprepared, at any moment, to face death, I am not in the least disposedto spoil for all time my future in this world. 

After that I went home. In an hour's time the doctor returned from hisexpedition. 

"There is indeed a conspiracy against you, " he said. "I found thecaptain of dragoons at Grushnitski's, together with another gentlemanwhose 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 aterrible uproar. 'On no account will I agree, ' Grushnitski was saying:'he has insulted me publicly; it was quite a different thing before'. .. 

"'What does it matter to you?' answered the captain. 'I will take it allupon myself. I have been second in five duels, and I should think I knowhow 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 whyexpose yourself to danger if it is possible to avoid it?'. .. 

"At that moment I entered the room. They suddenly fell silent. Ournegotiations were somewhat protracted. At length we decided the matteras follows: about five versts from here there is a hollow gorge; theywill ride thither tomorrow at four o'clock in the morning, and weshall leave half an hour later. You will fire at six paces--Grushnitskihimself demanded that condition. Whichever of you is killed--his deathwill be put down to the account of the Circassians. And now I must tellyou what I suspect: they, that is to say the seconds, may have madesome change in their former plan and may want to load only Grushnitski'spistol. That is something like murder, but in time of war, andespecially in Asiatic warfare, such tricks are allowed. Grushnitski, however, seems to be a little more magnanimous than his companions. Whatdo you think? Ought we not to let them see that we have guessed theirplan?"

"Not on any account, doctor! Make your mind easy; I will not give in tothem. "

"But what are you going to do, then?"

"That is my secret. "

"Mind you are not caught. .. Six paces, you know!"

"Doctor, I shall expect you to-morrow at four o'clock. The horses willbe ready. .. Goodbye. "

I remained in the house until the evening, with my door locked. Amanservant came to invite me to Princess Ligovski's--I bade him say thatI was ill. 

*****

Two o'clock in the morning. .. I cannot sleep. .. Yet sleep is what Ineed, if I am to have a steady hand to-morrow. However, at six pacesit is difficult to miss. Aha! Mr. Grushnitski, your wiles will notsucceed!. .. We shall exchange roles: now it is I who shall have to seekthe signs of latent terror upon your pallid countenance. Why have youyourself appointed these fatal six paces? Think you that I will tamelyexpose my forehead to your aim?. .. 

No, we shall cast lots. .. And then--then--what if his luck shouldprevail? If my star at length should betray me?. .. And little wonder ifit did: it has so long and faithfully served my caprices. 

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 guestat a ball, who yawns but does not go home to bed, simply becausehis carriage has not come for him. But now the carriage is here. .. Good-bye!. .. 

My whole past life I live again in memory, and, involuntarily, I askmyself: 'why have I lived--for what purpose was I born?'. .. A purposethere must have been, and, surely, mine was an exalted destiny, becauseI feel that within my soul are powers immeasurable. .. But I was not ableto discover that destiny, I allowed myself to be carried away by theallurements of passions, inane and ignoble. From their crucible Iissued hard and cold as iron, but gone for ever was the glow of nobleaspirations--the fairest flower of life. And, from that time forth, howoften have I not played the part of an axe in the hands of fate! Like animplement of punishment, I have fallen upon the head of doomed victims, often without malice, always without pity. .. To none has my love broughthappiness, because I have never sacrificed anything for the sake ofthose I have loved: for myself alone I have loved--for my own pleasure. I have only satisfied the strange craving of my heart, greedily drainingtheir feelings, their tenderness, their joys, their sufferings--andI have never been able to sate myself. I am like one who, spent withhunger, falls asleep in exhaustion and sees before him sumptuous viandsand sparkling wines; he devours with rapture the aerial gifts of theimagination, and his pains seem somewhat assuaged. Let him but awake:the vision vanishes--twofold hunger and despair remain!

And to-morrow, it may be, I shall die!. .. And there will not be left onearth one being who has understood me completely. Some will consider meworse, others, better, than I have been in reality. .. Some will say:'he was a good fellow'; others: 'a villain. ' And both epithets will befalse. After all this, is life worth the trouble? And yet we live--outof curiosity! We expect something new. .. How absurd, and yet howvexatious!

CHAPTER XIX

IT is now a month and a half since I have been in the N----Fortress. 

Maksim Maksimych is out hunting. .. I am alone. I am sitting by thewindow. Grey clouds have covered the mountains to the foot; the sunappears through the mist as a yellow spot. It is cold; the wind iswhistling and rocking the shutters. .. I am bored!. .. I will continue mydiary which has been interrupted by so many strange events. 

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 Ifeel that I still have long to live. 

How clearly and how sharply have all these bygone events been stampedupon my memory! Time has not effaced a single line, a single shade. 

I remember that during the night preceding the duel I did not sleep asingle moment. I was not able to write for long: a secret uneasinesstook possession of me. For about an hour I paced the room, then I satdown and opened a novel by Walter Scott which was lying on my table. Itwas "The Scottish Puritans. " [301] At first I read with an effort; then, carried away by the magical fiction, I became oblivious of everythingelse. 

At last day broke. My nerves became composed. I looked in the glass:a dull pallor covered my face, which preserved the traces of harassingsleeplessness; but my eyes, although encircled by a brownish shadow, glittered proudly and inexorably. I was satisfied with myself. 

I ordered the horses to be saddled, dressed myself, and ran down to thebaths. Plunging into the cold, sparkling water of the Narzan Spring, Ifelt my bodily and mental powers returning. I left the baths as freshand hearty as if I was off to a ball. After that, who shall say that thesoul is not dependent upon the body!. .. 

On my return, I found the doctor at my rooms. He was wearing greyriding-breeches, a jacket and a Circassian cap. I burst out laughingwhen I saw that little figure under the enormous shaggy cap. Wernerhas a by no means warlike countenance, and on that occasion it was evenlonger than usual. 

"Why so sad, doctor?" I said to him. "Have you not a hundred times, withthe greatest indifference, escorted people to the other world? Imaginethat I have a bilious fever: I may get well; also, I may die; both arein the usual course of things. Try to look on me as a patient, afflictedwith an illness with which you are still unfamiliar--and then yourcuriosity will be aroused in the highest degree. You can now make a fewimportant physiological observations upon me. .. Is not the expectationof a violent death itself a real illness?"

The doctor was struck by that idea, and he brightened up. 

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, throughthe village, and had ridden into the gorge. Our winding road washalf-overgrown with tall grass and was intersected every moment by anoisy brook, which we had to ford, to the great despair of the doctor, because each time his horse would stop in the water. 

A morning more fresh and blue I cannot remember! The sun had scarceshown his face from behind the green summits, and the blending of thefirst warmth of his rays with the dying coolness of the night producedon all my feelings a sort of sweet languor. The joyous beam of the youngday had not yet penetrated the gorge; it gilded only the tops of thecliffs which overhung us on both sides. The tufted shrubs, growing inthe deep crevices of the cliffs, besprinkled us with a silver showerat the least breath of wind. I remember that on that occasion I lovedNature more than ever before. With what curiosity did I examine everydewdrop trembling upon the broad vine leaf and reflecting millions ofrainbowhued rays! How eagerly did my glance endeavour to penetrate thesmoky distance! There the road grew narrower and narrower, the cliffsbluer and more dreadful, and at last they met, it seemed, in animpenetrable wall. 

We rode in silence. 

"Have you made your will?" Werner suddenly inquired. 

"No. "

"And if you are killed?"

"My heirs will be found of themselves. "

"Is it possible that you have no friends, to whom you would like to senda last farewell?". .. 

I shook my head. 

"Is there, really, not one woman in the world to whom you would like toleave some token in remembrance?". .. 

"Do you want me to reveal my soul to you, doctor?" I answered. .. "Yousee, I have outlived the years when people die with the name of thebeloved on their lips and bequeathing to a friend a lock of pomaded--orunpomaded--hair. When I think that death may be near, I think of myselfalone; others do not even do as much. The friends who to-morrow willforget me or, worse, will utter goodness knows what falsehoods about me;the women who, while embracing another, will laugh at me in order notto arouse his jealousy of the deceased--let them go! Out of the storm oflife I have borne away only a few ideas--and not one feeling. For along 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, butwithout sympathy. There are two personalities within me: one lives--inthe complete sense of the word--the other reflects and judges him; thefirst, it may be, in an hour's time, will take farewell of you and theworld for ever, and the second--the second?. .. Look, doctor, do yousee those three black figures on the cliff, to the right? They are ourantagonists, I suppose?". .. 

We pushed on. 

In the bushes at the foot of the cliff three horses were tethered; wetethered ours there too, and then we clambered up the narrow path to theledge on which Grushnitski was awaiting us in company with the captainof dragoons and his other second, whom they called Ivan Ignatevich. Hissurname I never heard. 

"We have been expecting you for quite a long time, " said the captain ofdragoons, with an ironical smile. 

I drew out my watch and showed him the time. 

He apologized, saying that his watch was fast. 

There was an embarrassing silence for a few moments. At length thedoctor interrupted it. 

"It seems to me, " he said, turning to Grushnitski, "that as you haveboth shown your readiness to fight, and thereby paid the debt due to theconditions of honour, you might be able to come to an explanation andfinish the affair amicably. "

"I am ready, " I said. 

The captain winked to Grushnitski, and the latter, thinking that I waslosing courage, assumed a haughty air, although, until that moment, hischeeks had been covered with a dull pallor. For the first time since ourarrival he lifted his eyes on me; but in his glance there was a certaindisquietude which evinced an inward struggle. 

"Declare your conditions, " he said, "and anything I can do for you, beassured". .. 

"These are my conditions: you will this very day publicly recant yourslander and beg my pardon". .. 

"My dear sir, I wonder how you dare make such a proposal to me?"

"What else could I propose?". .. 

"We will fight. "

I shrugged my shoulders. 

"Be it so; only, bethink you that one of us will infallibly be killed. "

"I hope it will be you". .. 

"And I am so convinced of the contrary". .. 

He became confused, turned red, and then burst out into a forced laugh. 

The captain took his arm and led him aside; they whispered together fora long time. I had arrived in a fairly pacific frame of mind, but allthis was beginning to drive me furious. 

The doctor came up to me. 

"Listen, " he said, with manifest uneasiness, "you have surely forgottentheir conspiracy!. .. I do not know how to load a pistol, but inthis case. .. You are a strange man! Tell them that you know theirintention--and they will not dare. .. What sport! To shoot you like abird". .. 

"Please do not be uneasy, doctor, and wait awhile. .. I shall arrangeeverything in such a way that there will be no advantage on their side. Let them whisper". .. 

"Gentlemen, this is becoming tedious, " I said to them loudly: "if we areto fight, let us fight; you had time yesterday to talk as much as youwanted to. "

"We are ready, " answered the captain. "Take your places, gentlemen!Doctor, be good enough to measure six paces". .. 

"Take your places!" repeated Ivan Ignatevich, in a squeaky voice. 

"Excuse me!" I said. "One further condition. As we are going to fightto the death, we are bound to do everything possible in order thatthe affair may remain a secret, and that our seconds may incur noresponsibility. Do you agree?". .. 

"Quite. "

"Well, then, this is my idea. Do you see that narrow ledge on the top ofthe perpendicular cliff on the right? It must be thirty fathoms, if notmore, 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 suchmanner even a slight wound will be mortal: that ought to be inaccordance with your desire, as you yourselves have fixed upon sixpaces. Whichever of us is wounded will be certain to fall down and bedashed to pieces; the doctor will extract the bullet, and, then, it willbe possible very easily to account for that sudden death by saying itwas the result of a fall. Let us cast lots to decide who shall firefirst. In conclusion, I declare that I will not fight on any otherterms. "

"Be it so!" said the captain after an expressive glance at Grushnitski, who nodded his head in token of assent. Every moment he was changingcountenance. I had placed him in an embarrassing position. Had the duelbeen fought upon the usual conditions, he could have aimed at my leg, wounded me slightly, and in such wise gratified his vengeance withoutoverburdening his conscience. But now he was obliged to fire in the air, or to make himself an assassin, or, finally, to abandon his base planand to expose himself to equal danger with me. I should not have likedto be in his place at that moment. He took the captain aside and saidsomething to him with great warmth. His lips were blue, and I saw themtrembling; but the captain turned away from him with a contemptuoussmile. 

"You are a fool, " he said to Grushnitski rather loudly. "You can'tunderstand a thing!. .. Let us be off, then, gentlemen!"

The precipice was approached by a narrow path between bushes, andfragments of rock formed the precarious steps of that natural staircase. Clinging to the bushes we proceeded to clamber up. Grushnitski went infront, his seconds behind him, and then the doctor and I. 

"I am surprised at you, " said the doctor, pressing my hand vigorously. "Let me feel your pulse!. .. Oho! Feverish!. .. But nothing noticeableon your countenance. .. Only your eyes are gleaming more brightly thanusual. "

Suddenly small stones rolled noisily right under our feet. What was it?Grushnitski had stumbled; the branch to which he was clinging had brokenoff, and he would have rolled down on his back if his seconds had notheld him up. 

"Take care!" I cried. "Do not fall prematurely: that is a bad sign. Remember Julius Caesar!"

CHAPTER XX

AND now we had climbed to the summit of the projecting cliff. The ledgewas covered with fine sand, as if on purpose for a duel. All around, like an innumerable herd, crowded the mountains, their summits lost toview in the golden mist of the morning; and towards the south rosethe white mass of Elbruz, closing the chain of icy peaks, among whichfibrous clouds, which had rushed in from the east, were already roaming. I walked to the extremity of the ledge and gazed down. My head nearlyswam. At the foot of the precipice all seemed dark and cold as in atomb; the moss-grown jags of the rocks, hurled down by storm and time, were awaiting their prey. 

The ledge on which we were to fight formed an almost regular triangle. Six paces were measured from the projecting corner, and it was decidedthat whichever had first to meet the fire of his opponent should standin the very corner with his back to the precipice; if he was not killedthe adversaries would change places. 

I determined to relinquish every advantage to Grushnitski; I wanted totest him. A spark of magnanimity might awake in his soul--and then allwould have been settled for the best. But his vanity and weakness ofcharacter had perforce to triumph!. .. I wished to give myself the fullright to refrain from sparing him if destiny were to favour me. Whowould not have concluded such an agreement with his conscience?

"Cast the lot, doctor!" said the captain. 

The doctor drew a silver coin from his pocket and held it up. 

"Tail!" cried Grushnitski hurriedly, like a man suddenly aroused by afriendly nudge. 

"Head, " I said. 

The coin spun in the air and fell, jingling. We all rushed towards it. 

"You are lucky, " I said to Grushnitski. "You are to fire first! Butremember that if you do not kill me I shall not miss--I give you my wordof honour. "

He flushed up; he was ashamed to kill an unarmed man. I looked at himfixedly; for a moment it seemed to me that he would throw himself at myfeet, imploring forgiveness; but how to confess so base a plot?. .. Oneexpedient only was left to him--to fire in the air! I was convincedthat he would fire in the air! One consideration alone might prevent himdoing so--the thought that I would demand a second duel. 

"Now is the time!" the doctor whispered to me, plucking me by thesleeve. "If you do not tell them now that we know their intentions, allis lost. Look, he is loading already. .. If you will not say anything, Iwill". .. 

"On no account, doctor!" I answered, holding him back by the arm. "Youwill spoil everything. You have given me your word not to interfere. .. What does it matter to you? Perhaps I wish to be killed". .. 

He looked at me in astonishment. 

"Oh, that is another thing!. .. Only do not complain of me in the otherworld". .. 

Meanwhile the captain had loaded his pistols and given one toGrushnitski, after whispering something to him with a smile; the otherhe gave to me. 

I placed myself in the corner of the ledge, planting my left foot firmlyagainst the rock and bending slightly forward, so that, in case of aslight wound, I might not fall over backwards. 

Grushnitski placed himself opposite me and, at a given signal, beganto raise his pistol. His knees shook. He aimed right at my forehead. .. Unutterable fury began to seethe within my breast. 

Suddenly he dropped the muzzle of the pistol and, pale as a sheet, turned to his second. 

"I cannot, " he said in a hollow voice. 

"Coward!" answered the captain. 

A shot rang out. The bullet grazed my knee. Involuntarily I took a fewpaces forward in order to get away from the edge as quickly as possible. 

"Well, my dear Grushnitski, it is a pity that you have missed!" saidthe captain. "Now it is your turn, take your stand! Embrace me first: weshall not see each other again!"

They embraced; the captain could scarcely refrain from laughing. 

"Do not be afraid, " he added, glancing cunningly at Grushnitski;"everything in this world is nonsense. .. Nature is a fool, fate aturkeyhen, and life a copeck!" [31]

After that tragic phrase, uttered with becoming gravity, he went back tohis place. Ivan Ignatevich, with tears, also embraced Grushnitski, andthere the latter remained alone, facing me. Ever since then, I have beentrying to explain to myself what sort of feeling it was that was boilingwithin my breast at that moment: it was the vexation of injured vanity, and contempt, and wrath engendered at the thought that the man nowlooking at me with such confidence, such quiet insolence, had, twominutes before, been about to kill me like a dog, without exposinghimself to the least danger, because had I been wounded a little moreseverely in the leg I should inevitably have fallen over the cliff. 

For a few moments I looked him fixedly in the face, trying to discernthereon even a slight trace of repentance. But it seemed to me that hewas restraining a smile. 

"I should advise you to say a prayer before you die, " I said. 

"Do not worry about my soul any more than your own. One thing I beg ofyou: be quick about firing. "

"And you do not recant your slander? You do not beg my forgiveness?. .. Bethink you well: has your conscience nothing to say to you?"

"Mr. Pechorin!" exclaimed the captain of dragoons. "Allow me to pointout that you are not here to preach. .. Let us lose no time, in caseanyone should ride through the gorge and we should be seen. "

"Very well. Doctor, come here!"

The doctor came up to me. Poor doctor! He was paler than Grushnitski hadbeen ten minutes before. 

The words which followed I purposely pronounced with a pause betweeneach--loudly and distinctly, as the sentence of death is pronounced:

"Doctor, these gentlemen have forgotten, in their hurry, no doubt, toput a bullet in my pistol. I beg you to load it afresh--and properly!"

"Impossible!" cried the captain, "impossible! I loaded both pistols. Perhaps the bullet has rolled out of yours. .. That is not my fault! Andyou have no right to load again. .. No right at all. It is altogetheragainst the rules, I shall not allow it". .. 

"Very well!" I said to the captain. "If so, then you and I shall fighton the same terms". .. 

He came to a dead stop. 

Grushnitski stood with his head sunk on his breast, embarrassed andgloomy. 

"Let them be!" he said at length to the captain, who was going to pullmy pistol out of the doctor's hands. "You know yourself that they areright. "

In vain the captain made various signs to him. Grushnitski would noteven look. 

Meanwhile the doctor had loaded the pistol and handed it to me. Onseeing that, the captain spat and stamped his foot. 

"You are a fool, then, my friend, " he said: "a common fool!. .. Youtrusted to me before, so you should obey me in everything now. .. Butserve you right! Die like a fly!". .. 

He turned away, muttering as he went:

"But all the same it is absolutely against the rules. "

"Grushnitski!" I said. "There is still time: recant your slander, and Iwill forgive you everything. You have not succeeded in making a fool ofme; my self-esteem is satisfied. Remember--we were once friends". .. 

His face flamed, his eyes flashed. 

"Fire!" he answered. "I despise myself and I hate you. If you do notkill me I will lie in wait for you some night and cut your throat. Thereis not room on the earth for both of us". .. 

I fired. 

When the smoke had cleared away, Grushnitski was not to be seen on theledge. Only a slender column of dust was still eddying at the edge ofthe precipice. 

There was a simultaneous cry from the rest. 

"Finita la commedia!" I said to the doctor. 

He made no answer, and turned away with horror. 

I shrugged my shoulders and bowed to Grushnitski's seconds. 

CHAPTER XXI

AS I descended by the path, I observed Grushnitski's bloodstained corpsebetween the clefts of the rocks. Involuntarily, I closed my eyes. 

Untying my horse, I set off home at a walking pace. A stone lay upon myheart. To my eyes the sun seemed dim, its beams were powerless to warmme. 

I did not ride up to the village, but turned to the right, along thegorge. The sight of a man would have been painful to me: I wanted to bealone. Throwing down the bridle and letting my head fall on my breast, Irode for a long time, and at length found myself in a spot with whichI was wholly unfamiliar. I turned my horse back and began to searchfor the road. The sun had already set by the time I had ridden up toKislovodsk--myself and my horse both utterly spent!

My servant told me that Werner had called, and he handed me two notes:one from Werner, the other. .. From Vera. 

I opened the first; its contents were as follows:

"Everything has been arranged as well as could be; the mutilated bodyhas been brought in; and the bullet extracted from the breast. Everybodyis convinced that the cause of death was an unfortunate accident; onlythe 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 maysleep in peace. .. If you can. .. . Farewell!". .. 

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 bya painful foreboding. 

Here it is, that letter, each word of which is indelibly engraved uponmy memory:

"I am writing to you in the full assurance that we shall never see eachother 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 notbeen able to endure the trial, my frail heart has again submitted tothe well-known voice. .. You will not despise me for that--will you? Thisletter will be at once a farewell and a confession: I am obliged to tellyou everything that has been treasured up in my heart since it began tolove you. I will not accuse you--you have acted towards me as any otherman would have acted; you have loved me as a chattel, as a source ofjoys, disquietudes and griefs, interchanging one with the other, withoutwhich life would be dull and monotonous. I have understood all that fromthe first. .. But you were unhappy, and I have sacrificed myself, hopingthat, some time, you would appreciate my sacrifice, that some time youwould understand my deep tenderness, unfettered by any conditions. Along time has elapsed since then: I have fathomed all the secrets ofyour soul. .. And I have convinced myself that my hope was vain. It hasbeen a bitter blow to me! But my love has been grafted with my soul; ithas grown dark, but has not been extinguished. 

"We are parting for ever; yet you may be sure that I shall never loveanother. Upon you my soul has exhausted all its treasures, its tears, its hopes. She who has once loved you cannot look without a certaindisdain upon other men, not because you have been better than they, oh, no! but in your nature there is something peculiar--belonging to youalone, something proud and mysterious; in your voice, whatever the wordsspoken, there is an invincible power. No one can so constantly wish tobe loved, in no one is wickedness ever so attractive, no one's glancepromises 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 soearnestly to convince himself of the contrary. 

"Now I must explain the cause of my hurried departure; it will seem oflittle importance to you, because it concerns me alone. 

"This morning my husband came in and told me about your quarrel withGrushnitski. Evidently I changed countenance greatly, because he lookedme in the face long and intently. I almost fainted at the thought thatyou had to fight a duel to-day, and that I was the cause of it; itseemed 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 along time. I do not know what he said to me, I do not remember what Ianswered. .. Most likely I told him that I loved you. .. I only rememberthat, at the end of our conversation, he insulted me with a dreadfulword and left the room. I heard him ordering the carriage. .. I have beensitting at the window three hours now, awaiting your return. .. But youare alive, you cannot have died!. .. The carriage is almost ready. .. Good-bye, good-bye!. .. I have perished--but what matter? If I could besure that you will always remember me--I no longer say love--no, onlyremember. .. Good-bye, they are coming!. .. I must hide this letter. 

"You do not love Mary, do you? You will not marry her? Listen, you mustoffer me that sacrifice. I have lost everything in the world for you". .. 

Like a madman I sprang on the steps, jumped on my Circassian horse whichwas being led about the courtyard, and set off at full gallop alongthe road to Pyatigorsk. Unsparingly I urged on the jaded horse, which, snorting and all in a foam, carried me swiftly along the rocky road. 

The sun had already disappeared behind a black cloud, which had beenresting on the ridge of the western mountains; the gorge grew dark anddamp. The Podkumok, forcing its way over the rocks, roared with a hollowand monotonous sound. I galloped on, choking with impatience. The ideaof not finding Vera in Pyatigorsk struck my heart like a hammer. For oneminute, again to see her for one minute, to say farewell, to press herhand. .. I prayed, cursed, wept, laughed. .. No, nothing could expressmy anxiety, my despair!. .. Now that it seemed possible that I might beabout to lose her for ever, Vera became dearer to me than aught in theworld--dearer than life, honour, happiness! God knows what strange, whatmad plans swarmed in my head. .. Meanwhile I still galloped, urging onmy horse without pity. And, now, I began to notice that he was breathingmore heavily; he had already stumbled once or twice on level ground. .. I was five versts from Essentuki--a Cossack village where I could changehorses. 

All would have been saved had my horse been able to hold out for anotherten minutes. But suddenly, in lifting himself out of a little gulleywhere the road emerges from the mountains at a sharp turn, he fell tothe ground. I jumped down promptly, I tried to lift him up, I tugged athis bridle--in vain. A scarcely audible moan burst through his clenchedteeth; 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 uponthe wet grass and burst out crying like a child. 

For a long time I lay motionless and wept bitterly, without attemptingto restrain my tears and sobs. I thought my breast would burst. Allmy firmness, all my coolness, disappeared like smoke; my soul grewpowerless, my reason silent, and, if anyone had seen me at that moment, he would have turned aside with contempt. 

When the night-dew and the mountain breeze had cooled my burning brow, and my thoughts had resumed their usual course, I realized that topursue my perished happiness would be unavailing and unreasonable. What more did I want?--To see her?--Why? Was not all over between us? Asingle, bitter, farewell kiss would not have enriched my recollections, and, after it, parting would only have been more difficult for us. 

Still, I am pleased that I can weep. Perhaps, however, the cause ofthat was my shattered nerves, a night passed without sleep, two minutesopposite the muzzle of a pistol, and an empty stomach. 

It is all for the best. That new suffering created within me a fortunatediversion--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 walkfifteen versts on my way back, sleep would not have closed my eyes onthat night either. 

I returned to Kislovodsk at five o'clock in the morning, threw myself onmy bed, and slept the sleep of Napoleon after Waterloo. 

By the time I awoke it was dark outside. I sat by the open window, withmy jacket unbuttoned--and the mountain breeze cooled my breast, stilltroubled by the heavy sleep of weariness. In the distance beyond theriver, through the tops of the thick lime trees which overshadowed it, lights were glancing in the fortress and the village. Close at hand allwas calm. It was dark in Princess Ligovski's house. 

The doctor entered; his brows were knit; contrary to custom, he did notoffer me his hand. 

"Where have you come from, doctor?"

"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 proveanything 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 onher daughter's account. That little old man--what's his name?--has toldher everything. He was a witness of your quarrel with Grushnitski in therestaurant. I have come to warn you. Good-bye. Maybe we shall not meetagain: you will be banished somewhere. "

He stopped on the threshold; he would gladly have pressed my hand. .. And, had I shown the slightest desire to embrace him, he would havethrown himself upon my neck; but I remained cold as a rock--and he leftthe room. 

That is just like men! They are all the same: they know beforehand allthe bad points of an act, they help, they advise, they even encourageit, seeing the impossibility of any other expedient--and then they washtheir hands of the whole affair and turn away with indignation from himwho has had the courage to take the whole burden of responsibility uponhimself. They are all like that, even the best-natured, the wisest. .. 

CHAPTER XXII

NEXT morning, having received orders from the supreme authority tobetake myself to the N----Fortress, I called upon Princess Ligovski tosay good-bye. 

She was surprised when, in answer to her question, whether I had notanything of special importance to tell her, I said I had come to wishher good-bye, and so on. 

"But I must have a very serious talk with you. "

I sat down in silence. 

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 brokenvoice, she said:

"Listen, Monsieur Pechorin, I think that you are a gentleman. "

I bowed. 

"Nay, I am sure of it, " she continued, "although your behaviour issomewhat equivocal, but you may have reasons which I do not know; andyou must now confide them to me. You have protected my daughter fromslander, you have fought a duel on her behalf--consequently you haverisked your life. .. Do not answer. I know that you will not acknowledgeit because Grushnitski has been killed"--she crossed herself. "Godforgive him--and you too, I hope. .. That does not concern me. .. I darenot condemn you because my daughter, although innocently, has beenthe cause. She has told me everything. .. Everything, I think. You havedeclared your love for her. .. She has admitted hers to you. "--HerePrincess Ligovski sighed heavily. --"But she is ill, and I am certainthat it is no simple illness! Secret grief is killing her; she will notconfess, but I am convinced that you are the cause of it. .. Listen:you think, perhaps, that I am looking for rank or immense wealth--beundeceived, my daughter's happiness is my sole desire. Your presentposition is unenviable, but it may be bettered: you have means; mydaughter loves you; she has been brought up in such a way that she willmake her husband a happy man. I am wealthy, she is my only child. .. Tellme, what is keeping you back?. .. You see, I ought not to be saying allthis to you, but I rely upon your heart, upon your honour--remember sheis my only daughter. .. My only one". .. 

She burst into tears. 

"Princess, " I said, "it is impossible for me to answer you; allow me tospeak to your daughter, alone". .. 

"Never!" she exclaimed, rising from her chair in violent agitation. 

"As you wish, " I answered, preparing to go away. 

She fell into thought, made a sign to me with her hand that I shouldwait a little, and left the room. 

Five minutes passed. My heart was beating violently, but my thoughtswere tranquil, my head cool. However assiduously I sought in my breastfor even a spark of love for the charming Mary, my efforts were of noavail!

Then the door opened, and she entered. Heavens! How she had changedsince I had last seen her--and that but a short time ago!

When she reached the middle of the room, she staggered. I jumped up, gave her my arm, and led her to a chair. 

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 somethingresembling hope; her wan lips vainly endeavoured to smile; her tenderhands, which were folded upon her knees, were so thin and transparentthat I pitied her. 

"Princess, " I said, "you know that I have been making fun of you?. .. Youmust despise me. "

A sickly flush suffused her cheeks. 

"Consequently, " I continued, "you cannot love me". .. 

She turned her head away, leaned her elbows on the table, covered hereyes with her hand, and it seemed to me that she was on the point oftears. 

"Oh, God!" she said, almost inaudibly. 

The situation was growing intolerable. Another minute--and I should havefallen at her feet. 

"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 withyour mother has compelled me to explain myself to you so frankly and sobrutally. I hope that she is under a delusion: it will be easy for youto undeceive her. You see, I am playing a most pitiful and ugly rolein your eyes, and I even admit it--that is the utmost I can do for yoursake. 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?". .. 

She turned round to me. She was pale as marble, but her eyes weresparkling wondrously. 

"I hate you". .. She said. 

I thanked her, bowed respectfully, and left the room. 

An hour afterwards a postal express was bearing me rapidly fromKislovodsk. A few versts from Essentuki I recognized near the roadwaythe body of my spirited horse. The saddle had been taken off, no doubtby a passing Cossack, and, in its place, two ravens were sitting on thehorse's back. I sighed and turned away. .. 

And now, here in this wearisome fortress, I often ask myself, as mythoughts 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 awaitingme?. .. No, I could never have become habituated to such a fate! I amlike a sailor born and bred on the deck of a pirate brig: his soul hasgrown accustomed to storms and battles; but, once let him be case uponthe shore, and he chafes, he pines away, however invitingly the shadygroves allure, however brightly shines the peaceful sun. The livelongday he paces the sandy shore, hearkens to the monotonous murmur of theonrushing waves, and gazes into the misty distance: lo! yonder, uponthe pale line dividing the blue deep from the grey clouds, is there notglancing the longed-for sail, at first like the wing of a seagull, butlittle by little severing itself from the foam of the billows and, witheven course, drawing nigh to the desert harbour?

APPENDIX

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

(By the Author)

THE preface to a book serves the double purpose of prologue andepilogue. It affords the author an opportunity of explaining the objectof the work, or of vindicating himself and replying to his critics. As arule, however, the reader is concerned neither with the moral purposeof the book nor with the attacks of the Reviewers, and so the prefaceremains unread. Nevertheless, this is a pity, especially with usRussians! The public of this country is so youthful, not to saysimple-minded, that it cannot understand the meaning of a fable unlessthe moral is set forth at the end. Unable to see a joke, insensible toirony, it has, in a word, been badly brought up. It has not yet learnedthat in a decent book, as in decent society, open invective can have noplace; that our present-day civilisation has invented a keener weapon, none the less deadly for being almost invisible, which, under the cloakof flattery, strikes with sure and irresistible effect. The Russianpublic is like a simple-minded person from the country who, chancing tooverhear a conversation between two diplomatists belonging to hostilecourts, comes away with the conviction that each of them has beendeceiving his Government in the interest of a most affectionate privatefriendship. 

The unfortunate effects of an over-literal acceptation of words bycertain readers and even Reviewers have recently been manifested inregard to the present book. Many of its readers have been dreadfully, and in all seriousness, shocked to find such an immoral man as Pechorinset before them as an example. Others have observed, with muchacumen, that the author has painted his own portrait and those ofhis acquaintances!. .. What a stale and wretched jest! But Russia, itappears, has been constituted in such a way that absurdities of thiskind will never be eradicated. It is doubtful whether, in this country, the most ethereal of fairy-tales would escape the reproach of attemptingoffensive personalities. 

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 havetold 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 romancecould exist in real life, why can you not believe in the reality ofPechorin? If you admire fictions much more terrible and monstrous, whyis it that this character, even if regarded merely as a creature ofthe imagination, cannot obtain quarter at your hands? Is it not becausethere is more truth in it than may be altogether palatable to you?"

You will say that the cause of morality gains nothing by this book. Ibeg your pardon. People have been surfeited with sweetmeats and theirdigestion has been ruined: bitter medicines, sharp truths, are thereforenecessary. This must not, however, be taken to mean that the author hasever proudly dreamed of becoming a reformer of human vices. Heavenkeep him from such impertinence! He has simply found it entertaining todepict a man, such as he considers to be typical of the present day andsuch as he has often met in real life--too often, indeed, unfortunatelyboth for the author himself and for you. Suffice it that the disease hasbeen pointed out: how it is to be cured--God alone knows!

FOOTNOTE:

[Footnote 1: A retail shop and tavern combined. ]

[Footnote 2: A verst is a measure of length, about 3500 English feet. ]

[Footnote 3: Ermolov, i. E. General Ermolov. Russians have threenames--Christian name, patronymic and surname. They are addressed bythe first two only. The surname of Maksim Maksimych (colloquial forMaksimovich) is not mentioned. ]

[Footnote 4: The bell on the duga, a wooden arch joining the shafts of aRussian conveyance over the horse's neck. ]

[Footnote 5: Rocky Ford. ]

[Footnote 6: A kind of beer made from millet. ]

[Footnote 7: i. E. Acknowledging Russian supremacy. ]

[Footnote 8: A kind of two-stringed or three-stringed guitar. ]

[Footnote 9: "Good--very good. "]

[Footnote 10: Turkish for "Black-eye. "]

[Footnote 11: "No!"]

[Footnote 12: A particular kind of ancient and valued sabre. ]

[Footnote 13: King--a title of the Sultan of Turkey. ]

[Footnote 14: I beg my readers' pardon for having versified Kazbich'ssong, which, of course, as I heard it, was in prose; but habit is secondnature. (Author's note. )]

[Footnote 151: "No! Russian--bad, bad!"]

[Footnote 15: Krestov is an adjective meaning "of the cross"(Krest=cross); and, of course, is not the Russian for "Christophe. "]

[Footnote 16: A legendary Russian hero whose whistling knocked peopledown. ]

[Footnote 17: Lezghian dance. ]

[Footnote 18: In Russian--okaziya=occasion, adventure, etc. ; chto zaokaziya=how unfortunate!]

[Footnote 19: The duga. ]

[Footnote 20: "Thou" is the form of address used in speaking to anintimate friend, etc. Pechorin had used the more formal "you. "]

[Footnote 21: Team of three horses abreast. ]

[Footnote 22: Desyatnik, a superintendent of ten (men or huts), i. E. Anofficer like the old English tithing-man or headborough. ]

[Footnote 23: Card-games. ]

[Footnote 24: A Caucasian wine. ]

[Footnote 25: Pushkin. Compare Shelley's Adonais, xxxi. 3: "as the lastcloud of an expiring storm. "]

[Footnote 26: The Snake, the Iron and the Bald Mountains. ]

[Footnote 27: Nizhegorod is the "government" of which Nizhniy Novgorod isthe capital. ]

[Footnote 271: A popular phrase, equivalent to: "How should I think ofdoing such a thing?"]

[Footnote 272: Published by Senkovski, and under the censorship of theGovernment. ]

[Footnote 273: Civil servants of the ninth (the lowest) class. ]

[Footnote 28: i. E. Serfs. ]

[Footnote 29: Pushkin: Eugene Onyegin. ]

[Footnote 30: Canto XVIII, 10: ]

 "Quinci al bosco t' invia, dove cotanti]

 Son fantasmi inganne vole e bugiardi". .. ]

[Footnote 301: None of the Waverley novels, of course, bears this title. The novel referred to is doubtless "Old Mortality, " on which Bellini'sopera, "I Puritani di Scozia, " is founded. ]

[Footnote 31: Popular phrases, equivalent to: "Men are fools, fortune isblind, and life is not worth a straw. "]