A Hero of Our Time ............................................................................................................................................1

M.Y. Lermontov......................................................................................................................................1

THIS novel, known as one of the masterpieces of Russian Literature, under the title "A Hero of our Time,"

and already translated into at least nine European languages, is now for the first time placed before the

general English Reader. The work is of exceptional interest to the student of English Literature, written as it

was under the profound influence of Byron and being itself a study of the Byronic type of character. The

Translators have taken especial care to preserve both the atmosphere of the story and the poetic beauty with

All the luggage I had in my cart consisted of one small portmanteau half filled with travelling notes on

Georgia; of these the greater part has been lost, fortunately for you; but the port manteau itself and the rest

of its contents have remained intact, fortunately for me. As I entered the Koishaur Valley the sun was

disappearing behind the snowclad ridge of the mountains. In order to accomplish the ascent of Mount

Koishaur by nightfall, my driver, an Ossete, urged on the horses indefatigably, singing zealously the while at

the top of his voice. What a glorious place that valley is! On every hand are inaccessible mountains, steep,

yellow slopes scored by waterchannels, and reddish rocks draped with green ivy and crowned with clusters

of planetrees. Yonder, at an immense height, is the golden fringe of the snow. Down below rolls the River

Aragva, which, after bursting noisily forth from the dark and misty depths of the gorge, with an unnamed

stream clasped in its embrace, stretches out like a thread of silver, its waters glistening like a snake with

Arrived at the foot of Mount Koishaur, we stopped at a dukhan.[1] About a score of Georgians and

mountaineers were gathered there in a noisy crowd, and, close by, a caravan of camels had halted for the

night. I was obliged to hire oxen to drag my cart up that accursed mountain, as it was now autumn and the

roads were slippery with ice. Besides, the mountain is about two versts[2] in length.

[1] A retail shop and tavern combined. [2] A verst is a measure of length, about 3500 English feet.

There was no help for it, so I hired six oxen and a few Ossetes. One of the latter shouldered my portmanteau,

Following mine there came another cart, which I was surprised to see four oxen pulling with the greatest

ease, notwithstanding that it was loaded to the top. Behind it walked the owner, smoking a little,

silvermounted Kabardian pipe. He was wearing a shaggy Circassian cap and an officer's overcoat without

epaulettes, and he seemed to be about fifty years of age. The swarthiness of his complexion showed that his

face had long been acquainted with Transcaucasian suns, and the premature greyness of his moustache was

out of keeping with his firm gait and robust appearance. I went up to him and saluted. He silently returned my

"Can you tell me how it is that that heavily laden cart of yours is being drawn without any difficulty by four

oxen, whilst six cattle are scarcely able to move mine, empty though it is, and with all those Ossetes

"Just so, sir," he answered. "They're terrible beasts, these Asiatics! You think that all that shouting means that

they are helping the oxen? Why, the devil alone can make out what it is they do shout. The oxen understand,

though; and if you were to yoke as many as twenty they still wouldn't budge so long as the Ossetes shouted in

that way of theirs. . . . Awful scoundrels! But what can you make of them? They love extorting money from

people who happen to be travelling through here. The rogues have been spoiled! You wait and see: they will

get a tip out of you as well as their hire. I know them of old, they can't get round me!"

"Yes, I was here under Aleksei Petrovich,"[1] he answered, assuming an air of dignity. "I was a

sublieutenant when he came to the Line; and I was promoted twice, during his command, on account of

[1] Ermolov, i.e. General Ermolov. Russians have three names Christian name, patronymic and surname.

They are addressed by the first two only. The surname of Maksim Maksimych (colloquial for Maksimovich)

With this the conversation ended, and we con tinued to walk in silence, side by side. On the summit of the

mountain we found snow. The sun set, and as usually is the case in the south night followed upon the

day without any interval of twilight. Thanks, however, to the sheen of the snow, we were able easily to dis

tinguish the road, which still went up the moun tainside, though not so steeply as before. I ordered the

Ossetes to put my portmanteau into the cart, and to replace the oxen by horses. Then for the last time I gazed

down upon the valley; but the thick mist which had gushed in billows from the gorges veiled it completely,

and not a single sound now floated up to our ears from below. The Ossetes surrounded me clamor ously and

demanded tips; but the staffcaptain shouted so menacingly at them that they dis persed in a moment.

"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 was still, so still, indeed, that it was possible

to follow the flight of a gnat by the buzzing of its wings. On our left loomed the gorge, deep and black.

Behind it and in front of us rose the darkblue summits of the mountains, all trenched with furrows and

covered with layers of snow, and standing out against the pale horizon, which still retained the last reflec

tions of the evening glow. The stars twinkled out in the dark sky, and in some strange way it seemed to me

that they were much higher than in our own north country. On both sides of the road bare, black rocks jutted

out; here and there shrubs peeped forth from under the snow; but not a single withered leaf stirred, and amid

that dead sleep of nature it was cheering to hear the snorting of the three tired posthorses and the irregular

[1] The bell on the duga, a wooden arch joining the shafts of a Russian conveyance over the horse's neck.

The staffcaptain answered not a word, but pointed with his finger to a lofty mountain which rose directly

True enough, smoke was rising from Mount Gut. Over its sides gentle cloudcurrents were creeping, and on

the summit rested one cloud of such dense 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 of the huts surrounding it; the

welcoming lights were twinkling before us, when suddenly a damp and chilly wind arose, the gorge rumbled,

and a drizzling rain fell. I had scarcely time to throw my felt cloak round me when down came the snow. I

"We shall have to pass the night here," he said, vexation in his tone. "There's no crossing the mountains in

such a blizzard. I say, have there been any avalanches on Mount Krestov?" he inquired of the driver.

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

Owing to the lack of a travellers' room in the Station, we were assigned a night's lodging in a smoky hut. I

invited my fellowtraveller to drink a tumbler of tea with me, as I had brought my castiron teapot my

One side of the hut was stuck against the cliff, and three wet and slippery steps led up to the door. I groped

my way in and stumbled up against a cow (with these people the cowhouse supplies the place of a servant's

room). I did not know which way to turn sheep were bleating on the one hand and a dog growling on the

other. Fortunately, however, I perceived on one side a faint glimmer of light, and by its aid I was able to find

another opening by way of a door. And here a by no means uninteresting picture was revealed. The wide hut,

the roof of which rested on two smokegrimed pillars, was full of people. In the centre of the floor a small

fire was crackling, and the smoke, driven back by the wind from an opening in the roof, was spreading

around in so thick a shroud that for a long time I was unable to see about me. Seated by the fire were two old

women, a number of children and a lank Georgian all of them in tatters. There was no help for it! We took

refuge by the fire and lighted our pipes; and soon the teapot was singing invitingly.

"Wretched people, these!" I said to the staffcaptain, indicating our dirty hosts, who were silently gazing at

"And an utterly stupid people too!" he replied. "Would you believe it, they are absolutely ignorant and

incapable of the slightest civilisation! Why even our Kabardians or Chechenes, robbers and ragamuffins

though they be, are regular daredevils for all that. Whereas these others have no liking for arms, and you'll

"Yes, I was quartered there for about ten years along with my company in a fortress, near Kamennyi Brod.[1]

"I can tell you, my boy, we had quite enough of those daredevil Chechenes. At the present time, thank

goodness, things are quieter; but in the old days you had only to put a hundred paces between you and the

rampart and wherever you went you would be sure to find a shaggy devil lurking in wait for you. You had

just to let your thoughts wander and at any moment a lasso would be round your neck or a bullet in the back

Hereupon he began to tug at his left moustache, let his head sink on to his breast, and became lost in thought.

I had a very great mind to extract some little anecdote out of him a desire natural to all who travel and

Meanwhile, tea was ready. I took two travel lingtumblers out of my portmanteau, and, filling one of them,

set it before the staffcaptain. He sipped his tea and said, as if speaking to himself, "Yes, many a one!" This

exclamation gave me great hopes. Your old Caucasian officer loves, I know, to talk and yarn a bit; he so

rarely succeeds in getting a chance to do so. It may be his fate to be quartered five years or so with his

company in some outoftheway place, and during the whole of that time he will not hear "good morning"

from a soul (because the sergeant says "good health"). And, indeed, he would have good cause to wax

loquacious with a wild and interesting people all around him, danger to be faced every day, and many a

marvellous incident happening. It is in circum stances like this that we involuntarily complain that so few of

"Would you care to put some rum in your tea?" I said to my companion. "I have some white rum with me

"Just so. I have sworn off drinking. Once, you know, when I was a sublieutenant, some of us had a drop too

much. That very night there was an alarm, and out we went to the front, half seas over! We did catch it, I can

tell you, when Aleksei Petrovich came to hear about us! Heaven save us, what a rage he was in! He was

within an ace of having us courtmartialled. That's just how things happen! You might easily spend a whole

"Take the Circassians, now," he continued; "once let them drink their fill of buza[1] at a wedding or a funeral,

and out will come their knives. On one occasion I had some difficulty in getting away with a whole skin, and

yet it was at the house of a 'friendly'[2] prince, where I was a guest, that the affair happened."

"YOU see, sir," said the staffcaptain, "I was quartered, at the time, with a com pany in a fortress beyond

the Terek getting on for five years ago now. One autumn day, a transport arrived with provisions, in

charge of an officer, a young man of about twentyfive. He reported himself to me in full uniform, and

announced that he had been ordered to remain in the fortress with me. He was so very elegant, his

complexion so nice and white, his uniform so brand new, that I immediately guessed that he had not been

"'I'm delighted to see you delighted! It will be a bit dull for you . . . but there, we will live together like a

couple of friends. But, please, call me simply "Maksim Maksimych"; and, tell me, what is this full uniform

"His name was Grigori Aleksandrovich Pe chorin. He was a splendid fellow, I can assure you, but a little

peculiar. Why, to give you an instance, one time he would stay out hunting the whole day, in the rain and

cold; the others would all be frozen through and tired out, but he wouldn't mind either cold or fatigue. Then,

another time, he would be sitting in his own room, and, if there was a breath of wind, he would declare that

he had caught cold; if the shutters rattled against the window he would start and turn pale: yet I myself have

seen him attack a boar singlehanded. Often enough you couldn't drag a word out of him for hours together;

but then, on the other hand, sometimes, when he started telling stories, you would split your sides with

laughing. Yes, sir, a very eccentric man; and he must have been wealthy too. What a lot of expensive trinkets

"Yes, about a year. And, for that very reason, it was a memorable year to me. He gave me a great deal of

trouble but there, let bygones be bygones! . . . You see, it is true enough, there are people like that, fated

"WELL, then, I'll tell you," said Maksim Maksimych. "About six versts from the fortress there lived a certain

'friendly' prince. His son, a brat of about fifteen, was accustomed to ride over to visit us. Not a day passed but

he would come, now for one thing, now for another. And, indeed, Grigori Aleksandrovich and I spoiled him.

What a daredevil the boy was! Up to anything, picking up a cap at full gallop, or bringing things down with

his gun! He had one bad quality; he was terribly greedy for money. Once, for the fun of the thing, Grigori

Aleksandrovich promised to give him a ducat if he would steal the best hegoat from his father's herd for

him; and, what do you think? The very next night he came lugging it in by the horns! At times we used to

take it into our heads to tease him, and then his eyes would become bloodshot and his hand would fly to his

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

"On one occasion, the old prince himself came to invite us to the wedding of his eldest daughter; and, as we

were guestfriends with him, it was impossible to decline, Tartar though he was. We set off. In the village we

were met by a number of dogs, all barking loudly. The women, when they saw us coming, hid them selves,

but those whose faces we were able to get a view of were far from being beauties.

"'I had a much better opinion of the Cir cassian women,' remarked Grigori Aleksandrovich.

"A number of people had already gathered at the prince's hut. It is the custom of the Asiatics, you know, to

invite all and sundry to a wedding. We were received with every mark of honour and conducted to the

guestchamber. All the same, I did not forget quietly to mark where our horses were put, in case anything

"Oh, in the usual way. First of all, the Mullah reads them something out of the Koran; then gifts are bestowed

upon the young couple and all their relations; the next thing is eating and drinking of buza, then the dance on

horse back; and there is always some ragamuffin, bedaubed with grease, bestriding a wretched, lame jade,

and grimacing, buffooning, and making the worshipful company laugh. Finally, when darkness falls, they

proceed to hold what we should call a ball in the guestchamber. A poor, old greybeard strums on a

threestringed in strument I forget what they call it, but anyhow, it is something in the nature of our

balalaika.[1] The girls and young children set themselves in two ranks, one opposite the other, and clap their

hands and sing. Then a girl and a man come out into the centre and begin to chant verses to each other

whatever comes into their heads and the rest join in as a chorus. Pechorin and I sat in the place of honour.

All at once up came our host's youngest daughter, a girl of about sixteen, and chanted to Pechorin how

"It went like this, I fancy: 'Handsome, they say, are our young horsemen, and the tunics they wear are

garnished with silver; but handsomer still is the young Russian officer, and the lace on his tunic is wrought of

gold. Like a poplar amongst them he stands, but in gardens of ours such trees will grow not nor bloom!'

"Pechorin rose, bowed to her, put his hand to his forehead and heart, and asked me to answer her. I know

"And a beautiful girl she was indeed; her figure was tall and slender, her eyes black as those of a mountain

chamois, and they fairly looked into your soul. Pechorin, deep in thought, kept his gaze fixed upon her, and

she, for her part, stole glances at him often enough from under her lashes. Pechorin, however, was not the

only one who was admiring the pretty princess; another pair of eyes, fixed and fiery, were gazing at her from

the corner of the room. I took a good look at their owner, and recognised my old acquaintance Kazbich, who,

you must know, was neither exactly 'friendly' nor yet the other thing. He was an object of much suspicion,

although he had never actually been caught at any knavery. He used to bring rams to our fortress and sell

them cheaply; only he never would haggle; whatever he demanded at first you had to give. He would have his

throat cut rather than come down in price. He had the reputation of being fond of roaming on the far side of

the Kuban with the Abreks; and, to tell the truth, he had a regular thief's visage. A little, wizened,

broadshouldered fellow he was but smart, I can tell you, smart as the very devil! His tunic was always

worn out and patched, but his weapons were mounted in silver. His horse was renowned throughout Kabardia

and, indeed, a better one it would be impossible to imagine! Not without good reason did all the other

horsemen envy Kazbich, and on more than one occasion they had attempted to steal the horse, but they had

never succeeded. I seem to see the animal before me now black as coal, with legs like bowstrings and

eyes as fine as Bela's! How strong he was too! He would gallop as much as fifty versts at a stretch! And he

was well trained besides he would trot behind his master like a dog, and actually knew his voice! Kazbich

"On that evening Kazbich was more sullen than ever, and I noticed that he was wearing a coat of mail under

his tunic. 'He hasn't got that coat of mail on for nothing,' I thought. 'He has some plot in his head, I'll be

"It grew oppressively hot in the hut, and I went out into the air to cool myself. Night had fallen upon the

"It occurred to me to pop in under the shed where our horses were standing, to see whether they had their

fodder; and, besides, it is never any harm to take precautions. My horse was a splendid one too, and more

than one Kabardian had already cast fond glances at it, repeating at the same time: 'Yakshi tkhe chok

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

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

"'What are they discussing there?' I won dered. 'Surely it can't be my horse!' I squatted down beside the

fence and proceeded to play the eavesdropper, trying not to let slip a single word. At times the noise of songs

and the buzz of voices, escaping from the hut, drowned the conversation which I was finding interesting.

"'That's a splendid horse of yours,' Azamat was saying. 'If I were master of a house of my own and had a stud

"'Yes,' replied Kazbich, after an interval of silence. 'There is not such another to be found in all Kabardia.

Once it was on the other side of the Terek I had ridden with the Abreks to seize the Russian herds. We

had no luck, so we scattered in different directions. Four Cossacks dashed after me. I could actually hear the

cries of the giaours behind me, and in front of me there was a dense forest. I crouched down in the saddle,

committed myself to Allah, and, for the first time in my life, insulted my horse with a blow of the whip. Like

a bird, he plunged among the branches; the sharp thorns tore my clothing, the dead boughs of the corkelms

struck against my face! My horse leaped over tree trunks and burst his way through bushes with his chest! It

would have been better for me to have abandoned him at the outskirts of the forest and concealed myself in it

afoot, but it was a pity to part with him and the Prophet rewarded me. A few bullets whistled over my

head. I could now hear the Cossacks, who had dismounted, running upon my tracks. Suddenly a deep gully

opened before me. My galloper took thought and leaped. His hind hoofs slipped back off the opposite

bank, and he re mained hanging by his forefeet. I dropped the bridle and threw myself into the hollow,

thereby saving my horse, which jumped out. The Cossacks saw the whole scene, only not one of them got

down to search for me, thinking probably that I had mortally injured myself; and I heard them rushing to

catch my horse. My heart bled within me. I crept along the hollow through the thick grass then I looked

around: it was the end of the forest. A few Cossacks were riding out from it on to the clearing, and there was

my Karagyoz[1] galloping straight towards them. With a shout they all dashed forward. For a long, long time

they pursued him, and one of them, in particular, was once or twice almost successful in throwing a lasso

I trembled, dropped my eyes, and began to pray. After a few moments I looked up again, and there was my

Karagyoz flying along, his tail waving free as the wind; and the giaours, on their jaded horses, were

trailing along far behind, one after another, across the steppe. Wallah! It is true really true! Till late at

night I lay in the hollow. Suddenly what do you think, Azamat? I heard in the darkness a horse trotting

along the bank of the hollow, snorting, neighing, and beating the ground with his hoofs. I recognised my

Karagyoz's voice; 'twas he, my comrade!" . . . Since that time we have never been parted!'

"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 it all for your Karagyoz!'

"'Listen, Kazbich,' said Azamat, trying to ingratiate himself with him. 'You are a kind hearted man, you are

a brave horseman, but my father is afraid of the Russians and will not allow me to go on the mountains. Give

me your horse, and I will do anything you wish. I will steal my father's best rifle for you, or his sabre just

as you like and his sabre is a genuine Gurda;[1] you have only to lay the edge against your hand, and it

"'The first time I saw your horse,' continued Azamat, 'when he was wheeling and leaping under you, his

nostrils distended, and the flints flying in showers from under his hoofs, something I could not understand

took place within my soul; and since that time I have been weary of everything. I have looked with disdain on

my father's best gallopers; I have been ashamed to be seen on them, and yearning has taken pos session of

me. In my anguish I have spent whole days on the cliffs, and, every minute, my thoughts have kept turning to

your black galloper with his graceful gait and his sleek back, straight as an arrow. With his keen, bright eyes

he has looked into mine as if about to speak! . . . I shall die, Kazbich, if you will not sell him to me!' said

"I could hear him burst out weeping, and I must tell you that Azamat was a very stubborn lad, and that not for

"'Listen,' said Azamat in a firm voice. 'You see, I am making up my mind for anything. If you like, I will steal

my sister for you! How she dances! How she sings! And the way she embroiders with gold marvellous!

Not even a Turkish Padishah[1] has had a wife like her! . . . Shall I? Wait for me tomorrow night, yonder, in

the gorge where the torrent flows; I will go by with her to the neighbouring village and she is yours.

"Kazbich remained silent for a long, long time. At length, instead of answering, he struck up in an undertone

[2] I beg my readers' pardon for having versified Kazbich's song, which, of course, as I heard it, was in prose;

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

"'Begone, you crazy brat! How should you think to ride on my horse? In three steps you would be thrown and

"'I?' cried Azamat in a fury, and the blade of the child's dagger rang against the coat of mail. A powerful arm

thrust him away, and he struck the wattle fence with such violence that it rocked.

"I rushed into the stable, bridled our horses and led them out into the back courtyard. In a couple of minutes

there was a terrible uproar in the hut. What had happened was this: Azamat had rushed in, with his tunic torn,

saying that Kazbich was going to murder him. All sprang out, seized their guns, and the fun began! Noise

shouts shots! But by this time Kazbich was in the saddle, and, wheeling among the crowd along the street,

"'It is a bad thing to interfere in other people's quarrels,' I said to Grigori Aleksandro vich, taking him by the

"'Oh, as to that, it will be sure enough to end badly; it is always so with these Asiatics. Once let them get

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

"Goodness only knows! Those scoundrels take a lot of killing! In action, for instance, I've seen many a one,

sir, stuck all over with bayonets like a sieve, and still brandishing his sabre."

After an interval of silence the staffcaptain continued, tapping the ground with his foot:

"One thing I'll never forgive myself for. On our arrival at the fortress the devil put it into my head to repeat to

Grigori Aleksandrovich all that I had heard when I was eavesdropping behind the fence. He laughed

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

"In about four days' time Azamat rode over to the fortress. As his usual custom was, he went to see Grigori

Aleksandrovich, who always used to give him sweetmeats to eat. I was present. The conversation was on the

subject of horses, and Pechorin began to sound the praises of Kazbich's Karagyoz. What a mettlesome horse

it was, and how handsome! A perfect chamois! In fact, judging by his account, there simply wasn't another

"The young Tartar's beady eyes began to sparkle, but Pechorin didn't seem to notice the fact. I started to talk

about something else, but immediately, mark you, Pechorin caused the conversation to strike off on to

Kazbich's horse. Every time that Azamat came it was the same story. After about three weeks, I began to

observe that Azamat was growing pale and wasted, just as people in novels do from love, sir. What wonder

"Well, you see, it was not until afterwards that I learned the whole trick Grigori Aleksan drovich

exasperated Azamat to such an extent with his teasing that the boy was ready even to drown himself. One day

"'I see, Azamat, that you have taken a desperate fancy to that horse of Kazbich's, but you'll no more see him

than you will the back of your neck! Come, tell me, what would you give if somebody made you a present of

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

"'Very well! I swear that the horse shall be yours. But, in return, you must deliver your sister Bela into my

hands. Karagyoz shall be her bridegroom's gift. I hope the transaction will be a profitable one for you.'

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

"'The first time Kazbich rides over here. He has promised to drive in half a score of rams; the rest is my

"And so they settled the business a bad business, to tell the truth! I said as much to Pechorin afterwards,

but he only answered that a wild Circassian girl ought to consider herself fortunate in having such a charming

husband as himself because, according to their ideas, he really was her husband and that Kazbich was

a scoundrel, and ought to be punished. Judge for yourself, what could I say to that? . . . At the time, however,

I knew nothing of their con spiracy. Well, one day Kazbich rode up and asked whether we needed any rams

"'Azamat!' said Grigori Aleksandrovich; 'tomorrow Karagyoz will be in my hands; if Bela is not here

"In the evening Grigori Aleksandrovich armed himself and rode out of the fortress. How they settled the

business I don't know, but at night they both returned, and the sentry saw that across Azamat's saddle a

"One minute! One minute! Early next morning Kazbich rode over, driving in half a score of rams for sale.

Tethering his horse by the fence, he came in to see me, and I regaled him with tea, for, robber though he was,

"We began to chat about one thing and another. . . Suddenly I saw Kazbich start, change countenance, and

dart to the window; but unfortunately the window looked on to the back courtyard.

"'No! Urus yaman, yaman!'[1] he roared, and rushed headlong away like a wild panther. In two bounds he

was in the courtyard; at the gate of the fortress the sentry barred the way with his gun; Kazbich jumped over

the gun and dashed off at a run along the road. . . Dust was whirling in the distance Azamat was galloping

away on the mettlesome Karagyoz. Kazbich, as he ran, tore his gun out of its cover and fired. For a moment

he remained motion less, until he had assured himself that he had missed. Then he uttered a shrill cry,

knocked the gun against a rock, smashed it to splinters, fell to the ground, and burst out sobbing like a child. .

. The people from the fortress gathered round him, but he took no notice of anyone. They stood there talking

awhile and then went back. I ordered the money for the rams to be placed beside him. He didn't touch it, but

lay with his face to the ground like a dead man. Would you believe it? He re mained lying like that

throughout the rest of that day and the following night! It was only on the next morning that he came to the

fortress and proceeded to ask that the name of the thief should be told him. The sentry who had ob served

Azamat untying the horse and galloping away on him did not see any necessity for con cealment. At the

name of Azamat, Kazbich's eyes flashed, and he set off to the village where Azamat's father lived."

"Ah, that was where the trick came in! Kazbich could not find him; he had gone away somewhere for five or

"And, when the father returned, there was neither daughter nor son to be found. A wily rogue, Azamat! He

understood, you see, that he would lose his life if he was caught. So, from that time, he was never seen again;

probably he joined some gang of Abreks and laid down his turbulent life on the other side of the Terek or the

"I CONFESS that, for my part, I had trouble enough over the business. So soon as ever I learned that the

Circassian girl was with Grigori Aleksandrovich, I put on my epaulettes and sword and went to see him.

"He was lying on the bed in the outer room, with one hand under his head and the other holding a pipe which

had gone out. The door leading to the inner room was locked, and there was no key in the lock. I observed all

that in a moment. . . I coughed and rapped my heels against the threshold, but he pretended not to hear.

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

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

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

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

"'Mitka brought the sword. My duty dis charged, I sat down on the bed, facing Pechorin, and said: 'Listen

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

"Well, what could I say to that? . . . I was nonplussed. After a short interval of silence, however, I told him

"'Listen, Maksim Maksimych,' said Pechorin, rising to his feet. 'You're a kindhearted man, you know; but, if

we give that savage back his daughter, he will cut her throat or sell her. The deed is done, and the only thing

we can do now is not to go out of our way to spoil matters. Leave Bela with me and keep my sword!'

"'She is behind that door. Only I wanted, myself, to see her today and wasn't able to. She sits in the corner,

muffled in her veil, and neither speaks nor looks up timid as a wild chamois! I have hired the wife of our

dukhan keeper: she knows the Tartar language, and will look after Bela and accustom her to the idea that

she belongs to me for she shall belong to no one else!' he added, banging his fist on the table.

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

"Well?" I asked Maksim Maksimych. "Did he really succeed in making her grow accustomed to him, or did

"Good gracious! how could she pine away from homesickness? From the fortress she could see the very

same hills as she could from the village and these savages require nothing more. Besides, Grigori

Aleksandrovich used to give her a present of some kind every day. At first she didn't utter a word, but

haughtily thrust away the gifts, which then fell to the lot of the dukhankeeper's wife and aroused her

eloquence. Ah, presents! What won't a woman do for a coloured rag! . . . But that is by the way. . . For a long

time Grigori Aleksandro vich persevered with her, and meanwhile he studied the Tartar language and she

began to understand ours. Little by little she grew accustomed to looking at him, at first furtively, askance;

but she still pined and crooned her songs in an undertone, so that even I would feel heavy at heart when I

heard her from the next room. One scene I shall never forget: I was walking past, and I looked in at the

window; Bela was sitting on the stovecouch, her head sunk on her breast, and Grigori Aleksandrovich was

"'Listen, my Peri,' he was saying. 'Surely you know that you will have to be mine sooner or later why,

then, do you but torture me? Is it that you are in love with some Chechene? If so, I will let you go home at

"'Believe me, Allah is one and the same for all races; and, if he permits me to love you, why, then, should he

"She gazed fixedly into his face, as though struck by that new idea. Distrust and a desire to be convinced

were expressed in her eyes. What eyes they were! They sparkled just like two glowing coals.

"'Listen, my dear, good Bela!' continued Pechorin. 'You see how I love you. I am ready to give up everything

to make you cheerful once more. I want you to be happy, and, if you are going to be sad again, I shall die.

"She fell into thought, her black eyes still fixed upon him. Then she smiled graciously and nodded her head in

"He took her by the hand and tried to induce her to kiss him. She defended herself feebly, and only repeated:

"Grigori Aleksandrovich struck his forehead with his fist and sprang into the other room. I went in to see him,

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

"The next day he immediately despatched an express messenger to Kizlyar to purchase some things for him.

The messenger brought back a quite innumerable quantity of various Persian stuffs.

"'What think you, Maksim Maksimych?' he said to me, showing the presents. 'Will our Asiatic beauty hold

"'You don't know the Circassian women,' I answered. 'They are not at all the same as the Georgian or the

Transcaucasian Tartar women not at all! They have their own principles, they are brought up differently.'

"AS things fell out, however," continued Maksim Maksimych, "I was right, you see. The presents produced

only half an effect. She became more gracious more trustful but that was all. Pechorin accordingly

determined upon a last expedient. One morning he ordered his horse to be saddled, dressed himself as a Cir

"'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! Re main absolute mistress of all I possess.

Return to your father if you like you are free. I have acted wrongfully towards you, and I must punish

myself. Farewell! I am going. Whither? How should I know? Perchance I shall not have long to court the

"He turned away, and stretched out his hand to her in farewell. She did not take his hand, but remained silent.

But I, standing there behind the door, was able through a chink to observe her countenance, and I felt sorry

for her such a deathly pallor shrouded that charm ing little face! Hearing no answer, Pechorin took a few

steps towards the door. He was trembling, and shall I tell you? I think that he was in a state to perform

in very fact what he had been saying in jest! He was just that sort of man, Heaven knows!

"He had scarcely touched the door, however, when Bela sprang to her feet, burst out sobbing, and threw

herself on his neck! Would you believe it? I, standing there behind the door, fell to weeping too, that is to say,

"Yes, I confess," he said after a while, tugging at his moustache, "I felt hurt that not one woman had ever

"Yes, she admitted that, from the day she had first cast eyes on Pechorin, she had often dreamed of him, and

that no other man had ever pro duced such an impression upon her. Yes, they were happy!"

In point of fact, I had been expecting a tragic ending when, lo! he must needs disappoint my hopes in such

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

"Well, you must know, he seems to have had his suspicions. After a few days, we learned that the old man

"I must tell you that Kazbich imagined that the horse had been stolen by Azamat with his father's consent; at

any rate, that is what I suppose. So, one day, Kazbich went and waited by the roadside, about three versts

beyond the village. The old man was returning from one of his futile searches for his daughter; his re tainers

were lagging behind. It was dusk. Deep in thought, he was riding at a walking pace when, suddenly, Kazbich

darted out like a cat from behind a bush, sprang up behind him on the horse, flung him to the ground with a

thrust of his dagger, seized the bridle and was off. A few of the retainers saw the whole affair from the hill;

"He requited himself for the loss of his horse, and took his revenge at the same time," I said, with a view to

"Of course, from their point of view," said the staffcaptain, "he was perfectly right."

I was involuntarily struck by the aptitude which the Russian displays for accommodating himself to the

customs of the people in whose midst he happens to be living. I know not whether this mental quality is

deserving of censure or commendation, but it proves the incredible pliancy of his mind and the presence of

that clear common sense which pardons evil wherever it sees that evil is inevitable or im possible of

IN the meantime we had finished our tea. The horses, which had been put to long before, were freezing in the

snow. In the west the moon was growing pale, and was just on the point of plunging into the black clouds

which were hanging over the distant summits like the shreds of a torn curtain. We went out of the hut.

Contrary to my fellowtraveller's pre diction, the weather had cleared up, and there was a promise of a calm

morning. The dancing choirs of the stars were interwoven in wondrous patterns on the distant horizon, and,

one after another, they flickered out as the wan resplendence of the east suffused the dark, lilac vault of

heaven, gradually illumining the steep mountain slopes, covered with the virgin snows. To right and left

loomed grim and mysterious chasms, and masses of mist, eddying and coiling like snakes, were creeping

thither along the furrows of the neighbouring cliffs, as though sentient and fear ful of the approach of day.

All was calm in heaven and on earth, calm as within the heart of a man at the moment of morning prayer;

only at intervals a cool wind rushed in from the east, lifting the horses' manes which were covered with

hoarfrost. We started off. The five lean jades dragged our wagons with difficulty along the tortuous road up

Mount Get. We ourselves walked behind, placing stones under the wheels whenever the horses were spent.

The road seemed to lead into the sky, for, so far as the eye could discern, it still mounted up and up, until

finally it was lost in the cloud which, since early evening, had been resting on the sum mit of Mount Get,

like a kite awaiting its prey. The snow crunched under our feet. The atmo sphere grew so rarefied that to

breathe was pain ful; ever and anon the blood rushed to my head, but withal a certain rapturous sensation

was diffused throughout my veins and I felt a species of delight at being so high up above the world. A

childish feeling, I admit, but, when we retire from the conventions of society and draw close to nature, we

involuntarily become as children: each attribute acquired by experience falls away from the soul, which

becomes anew such as it was once and will surely be again. He whose lot it has been, as mine has been, to

wander over the desolate mountains, long, long to observe their fantastic shapes, greedily to gulp down the

life giving air diffused through their ravines he, of course, will understand my desire to communicate, to

Well, at length we reached the summit of Mount Gut and, halting, looked around us. Upon the mountain a

grey cloud was hanging, and its cold breath threatened the approach of a storm; but in the east everything was

so clear and golden that we that is, the staffcaptain and I forgot all about the cloud. . . Yes, the

staffcaptain too; in simple hearts the feeling for the beauty and grandeur of nature is a hundredfold

stronger and more vivid than in us, ecstatic composers of narratives in words and on paper.

"Yes, sir, you can even grow accustomed to the whistling of a bullet, that is to say, accus tomed to

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

"Of course, if it comes to that, it is agree able; but only just because the heart beats more violently. Look!"

And, indeed, such a panorama I can hardly hope to see elsewhere. Beneath us lay the Koishaur Valley,

intersected by the Aragva and another stream as if by two silver threads; a bluish mist was gliding along the

valley, fleeing into the neighbouring defiles from the warm rays of the morning. To right and left the

mountain crests, towering higher and higher, intersected each other and stretched out, covered with snows

and thickets; in the distance were the same mountains, which now, however, had the appearance of two cliffs,

one like to the other. And all these snows were burning in the crimson glow so merrily and so brightly that it

seemed as though one could live in such a place for ever. The sun was scarcely visible behind the darkblue

mountain, which only a practised eye could distinguish from a thundercloud; but above the sun was a

"I told you," he exclaimed, "that there would be dirty weather today! We must make haste, or perhaps it will

Chains were put under the wheels in place of drags, so that they should not slide, the drivers took the horses

by the reins, and the descent began. On the right was a cliff, on the left a precipice, so deep that an entire

village of Ossetes at the bottom looked like a swallow's nest. I shuddered, as the thought occurred to me that

often in the depth of night, on that very road, where two wagons could not pass, a courier drives some ten

times a year without climbing down from his rickety vehicle. One of our drivers was a Russian peasant from

Yaro slavl, the other, an Ossete. The latter took out the leaders in good time and led the shafthorse by the

reins, using every possible precaution but our heedless compatriot did not even climb down from his box!

When I remarked to him that he might put himself out a bit, at least in the interests of my portmanteau, for

which I had not the slightest desire to clamber down into the abyss, he answered:

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

And he was right. We might just as easily have failed to arrive at all; but arrive we did, for all that. And if

people would only reason a little more they would be convinced that life is not worth taking such a deal of

Perhaps, however, you would like to know the conclusion of the story of Bela? In the first place, this is not a

novel, but a collection of travellingnotes, and, consequently, I cannot make the staffcaptain tell the story

sooner than he actually proceeded to tell it. Therefore, you must wait a bit, or, if you like, turn over a few

pages. Though I do not advise you to do the latter, because the crossing of Mount Krestov (or, as the erudite

[1] Krestov is an adjective meaning "of the cross" (Krest=cross); and, of course, is not the Russian for

Well, then, we descended Mount Gut into the Chertov Valley. . . There's a romantic desig nation for you!

Already you have a vision of the evil spirit's nest amid the inaccessible cliffs but you are out of your

reckoning there. The name "Chertov" is derived from the word cherta (boundaryline) and not from chort

(devil), because, at one time, the valley marked the boundary of Georgia. We found it choked with

snowdrifts, which reminded us rather vividly of Saratov, Tambov, and other charming localities of our

"Look, there is Krestov!" said the staff captain, when we had descended into the Chertov Valley, as he

pointed out a hill covered with a shroud of snow. Upon the summit stood out the black outline of a stone

cross, and past it led an all but imperceptible road which travellers use only when the sideroad is obstructed

with snow. Our drivers, declaring that no avalanches had yet fallen, spared the horses by conducting us round

the mountain. At a turning we met four or five Ossetes, who offered us their services; and, catching hold of

the wheels, proceeded, with a shout, to drag and hold up our cart. And, in deed, it is a dangerous road; on

the right were masses of snow hanging above us, and ready, it seemed, at the first squall of wind to break off

and drop into the ravine; the narrow road was partly covered with snow, which, in many places, gave way

under our feet and, in others, was converted into ice by the action of the sun by day and the frosts by night, so

that the horses kept falling, and it was with difficulty that we ourselves made our way. On the left yawned a

deep chasm, through which rolled a torrent, now hiding beneath a crust of ice, now leaping and foaming over

the black rocks. In two hours we were barely able to double Mount Krestov two versts in two hours!

Meanwhile the clouds had descended, hail and snow fell; the wind, burst ing into the ravines, howled and

whistled like Nightingale the Robber.[1] Soon the stone cross was hidden in the mist, the billows of which, in

Concerning that stone cross, by the way, there exists the strange, but widespread, tradition that it had been set

up by the Emperor Peter the First when travelling through the Caucasus. In the first place, however, the

Emperor went no farther than Daghestan; and, in the second place, there is an inscription in large letters on

the cross itself, to the effect that it had been erected by order of General Ermolov, and that too in the year

1824. Nevertheless, the tradition has taken such firm root, in spite of the inscription, that really you do not

know what to believe; the more so, as it is not the custom to believe inscriptions.

To reach the station Kobi, we still had to descend about five versts, across icecovered rocks and plashy

snow. The horses were exhausted; we were freezing; the snowstorm droned with ever increasing violence,

exactly like the storms of our own northern land, only its wild melodies were sadder and more melancholy.

"O Exile," I thought, "thou art weeping for thy wide, free steppes! There mayest thou unfold thy cold wings,

but here thou art stifled and confined, like an eagle beating his wings, with a shriek, against the grating of his

"A bad look out," said the staffcaptain. "Look! There's nothing to be seen all round but mist and snow. At

any moment we may tumble into an abyss or stick fast in a cleft; and a little lower down, I dare say, the

Baidara has risen so high that there is no getting across it. Oh, this Asia, I know it! Like people, like rivers!

The drivers, shouting and cursing, belaboured the horses, which snorted, resisted obstinately, and refused to

"Your honour," one of the drivers said to me at length, "you see, we will never reach Kobi today. Won't you

give orders to turn to the left while we can? There is something black yonder on the slope probably huts.

Travellers always stop there in bad weather, sir. They say," he added, pointing to the Ossetes, "that they will

"I know that, my friend, I know that without your telling me," said the staffcaptain. "Oh, these beasts! They

"You must confess, however," I said, "that we should be worse off without them."

"Just so, just so," he growled to himself. "I know them well these guides! They scent out by instinct a

chance of taking advantage of people. As if it was impossible to find the way without them!"

Accordingly we turned aside to the left, and, somehow or other, after a good deal of trouble, made our way to

the wretched shelter, which consisted of two huts built of stone slabs and rubble, surrounded by a wall of the

same material. Our ragged hosts received us with alacrity. I learned afterwards that the Govern ment

supplies them with money and food upon condition that they put up travellers who are overtaken by storm.

"ALL is for the best," I said, sitting down close by the fire. "Now you will finish telling me your story about

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

"It is all very well for you to be glad, but, indeed, it makes me sad when I think of it. Bela was a splendid girl.

In the end I grew accustomed to her just as if she had been my own daughter, and she loved me. I must tell

you that I have no family. I have had no news of my father and mother for twelve years or so, and, in my

earlier days, I never thought of providing myself with a wife and now, you know, it wouldn't do. So I was

glad to have found someone to spoil. She used to sing to us or dance the Lezginka.[1] . . And what a dancer

she was! I have seen our own ladies in provincial society; and on one occasion, sir, about twenty years ago, I

was even in the Nobles' Club at Moscow but was there a woman to be com pared with her? Not one!

Grigori Aleksandro vich dressed her up like a doll, petted and pampered her, and it was simply astonishing

to see how pretty she grew while she lived with us. The sunburn disappeared from her face and hands, and a

rosy colour came into her cheeks. . . What a merry girl she was! Always making fun of me, the little rogue! . .

"We kept it a secret from her for a long time, until she had grown accustomed to her position; and then, when

"For four months or so everything went on as well as it possibly could. Grigori Aleksandro vich, as I think I

have already mentioned, was passionately fond of hunting; he was always craving to be off into the forest

after boars or wild goats but now it would be as much as he would do to go beyond the fortress rampart.

All at once, however, I saw that he was beginning again to have fits of abstraction, walking about his room

with his hands clasped behind his back. One day after that, without telling anyone, he set off shooting. During

the whole morning he was not to be seen; then the same thing happened another time, and so on oftener

"One morning I paid them a visit I can see it all in my mind's eye, as if it was happening now. Bela was

sitting on the bed, wearing a black silk jacket, and looking rather pale and so sad that I was alarmed.

"'Yesterday I thought and thought the whole day,' she answered through her tears; 'I imagined all sorts of

misfortunes. At one time I fancied that he had been wounded by a wild boar, at another time, that he had been

carried off by a Chechene into the mountains. . . But, now, I have come to think that he no longer loves me.'

"She burst out crying; then, proudly raising her head, she wiped away the tears and con tinued:

"'If he does not love me, then who prevents him sending me home? I am not putting any constraint on him.

But, if things go on like this, I will go away myself I am not a slave, I am a prince's daughter!' . . .

"'Listen, Bela. You see it is impossible for him to stop in here with you for ever, as if he was sewn on to your

petticoat. He is a young man and fond of hunting. Off he'll go, but you will find that he will come back; and,

"And with a burst of laughter, she seized her tambourine, began to sing, dance, and gambol around me. But

that did not last long either; she fell upon the bed again and buried her face in her hands.

"What could I do with her? You know I have never been accustomed to the society of women. I thought and

thought how to cheer her up, but couldn't hit on anything. For some time both of us remained silent. . . A

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

"This was in September, and indeed it was a wonderful day, bright and not too hot. The mountains could be

seen as clearly as though they were but a hand'sbreadth away. We went, and walked in silence to and fro

along the rampart of the fortress. At length she sat down on the sward, and I sat beside her. In truth, now, it is

funny to think of it all! I used to run after her just like a kind of children's nurse!

"Our fortress was situated in a lofty position, and the view from the rampart was superb. On one side, the

wide clearing, seamed by a few clefts, was bounded by the forest which stretched out to the very ridge of the

mountains. Here and there, on the clearing, villages were to be seen sending forth their smoke, and there were

droves of horses roaming about. On the other side flowed a tiny stream, and close to its banks came the dense

undergrowth which covered the flinty heights joining the principal chain of the Caucasus. We sat in a corner

of the bastion, so that we could see everything on both sides. Suddenly I perceived someone on a grey horse

riding out of the forest; nearer and nearer he approached until finally he stopped on the far side of the river,

about a hundred fathoms from us, and began to wheel his horse round and round like one possessed.

"'Look, look, Bela,' I said, 'you've got young eyes what sort of a horseman is that? Who is it he has come

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

"'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 that gallant for me and you shall have a

"'Hey, friend!' cried the sentry, waving his hand. 'Wait a bit. What are you spinning round like a

"Kazbich halted and gave ear to the sentry probably thinking that we were going to parley with him. Quite

the contrary! . . . My grena dier took aim. . . Bang! . . . Missed! . . . Just as the powder flashed in the pan

Kazbich jogged his horse, which gave a bound to one side. He stood up in his stirrups, shouted something in

"'He has gone away to die, your honour,' he answered. 'There's no killing a man of that cursed race at one

"A quarter of an hour later Pechorin returned from hunting. Bela threw herself on his neck without a single

complaint, without a single reproach for his lengthy absence! . . . Even I was angry with him by this time!

"'Good heavens!' I said; 'why, I tell you, Kazbich was here on the other side of the river just a moment ago,

and we shot at him. How easily you might have run up against him, you know! These mountaineers are a

vindictive race! Do you suppose he does not guess that you gave Azamat some help? And I wager that he

recognised Bela today! I know he was desper ately fond of her a year ago he told me so himself

and, if he had had any hope of getting together a proper bridegroom's gift, he would certainly have sought her

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

"In the evening I had a lengthy explanation with him. I was vexed that his feelings towards the poor girl had

changed; to say nothing of his spending half the day hunting, his manner towards her had become cold. He

rarely caressed her, and she was beginning perceptibly to pine away; her little face was becoming drawn, her

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

"'LISTEN, Maksim Maksimych,' said Pech orin. 'Mine is an unfortunate dis position; whether it is the

result of my up bringing or whether it is innate I know not. I only know this, that if I am the cause of un

happiness in others I myself am no less unhappy. Of course, that is a poor consolation to them only the

fact remains that such is the case. In my early youth, from the moment I ceased to be under the guardianship

of my relations, I began madly to enjoy all the pleasures which money could buy and, of course, such

pleasures became irksome to me. Then I launched out into the world of fashion and that, too, soon palled

upon me. I fell in love with fashionable beauties and was loved by them, but my imagina tion and egoism

alone were aroused; my heart remained empty. . . I began to read, to study but sciences also became

utterly wearisome to me. I saw that neither fame nor happiness depends on them in the least, because the

happiest people are the uneducated, and fame is good fortune, to attain which you have only to be smart.

Then I grew bored. . . Soon after wards I was transferred to the Caucasus; and that was the happiest time of

my life. I hoped that under the bullets of the Chechenes boredom could not exist a vain hope! In a month I

grew so accustomed to the buzzing of the bullets and to the proximity of death that, to tell the truth, I paid

more attention to the gnats and I became more bored than ever, because I had lost what was almost my

last hope. When I saw Bela in my own house; when, for the first time, I held her on my knee and kissed her

black locks, I, fool that I was, thought that she was an angel sent to me by sympathetic fate. . . Again I was

mistaken; the love of a savage is little better than that of your lady of quality, the barbaric ignorance and

simplicity of the one weary you as much as the coquetry of the other. I am not saying that I do not love her

still; I am grateful to her for a few fairly sweet moments; I would give my life for her only I am bored

with her. . . Whether I am a fool or a villain I know not; but this is certain, I am also most deserving of pity

perhaps more than she. My soul has been spoiled by the world, my imagination is unquiet, my heart

insatiate. To me everything is of little moment. I become as easily accus tomed to grief as to joy, and my

"'As soon as I can, I shall set off but not to Europe. Heaven forfend! I shall go to America, to Arabia, to

India perchance I shall die some where on the way. At any rate, I am convinced that, thanks to storms

"For a long time he went on speaking thus, and his words have remained stamped upon my memory, because

it was the first time that I had heard such things from a man of fiveandtwenty and Heaven grant it may

be the last. Isn't it astonishing? Tell me, please," continued the staffcaptain, appealing to me. "You used to

live in the Capital, I think, and that not so very long ago. Is it possible that the young men there are all like

I replied that there were a good many people who used the same sort of language, that, prob ably, there

might even be some who spoke in all sincerity; that disillusionment, moreover, like all other vogues, having

had its beginning in the higher strata of society, had descended to the lower, where it was being worn

threadbare, and that, now, those who were really and truly bored strove to conceal their misfortune as if it

were a vice. The staffcaptain did not under stand these subtleties, shook his head, and smiled slyly.

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

Involuntarily I recalled to mind a certain lady, living in Moscow, who used to maintain that Byron was

nothing more nor less than a drunkard. However, the staffcaptain's observation was more excusable; in

order to abstain from strong drink, he naturally endeavoured to convince himself that all the misfortunes in

"Kazbich never put in an appearance again; but somehow I don't know why I could not get the idea out

of my head that he had had a reason for coming, and that some mischievous scheme was in his mind.

"Well, one day Pechorin tried to persuade me to go boarhunting with him. For a long time I refused. What

"However, off he dragged me, all the same. We took four or five soldiers and set out early in the morning. Up

till ten o'clock we scurried about the reeds and the forest there wasn't a wild beast to be found!

"'I say, oughtn't we to be going back?' I said. 'What's the use of sticking at it? It is evident enough that we

"But, in spite of heat and fatigue, Pechorin didn't like to return emptyhanded. . . That is just the kind of man

he was; whatever he set his heart on he had to have evidently, in his childhood, he had been spoiled by an

indulgent mother. At last, at midday, we discovered one of those cursed wild boars Bang! Bang! No

good! Off it went into the reeds. That was an unlucky day, to be sure! . . . So, after a short rest, we set off

"We rode in silence, side by side, giving the horses their head. We had almost reached the fortress, and only

the brushwood concealed it from view. Suddenly a shot rang out. . . We glanced at each other, both struck

with the self same suspicion. . . We galloped headlong in the direction of the shot, looked, and saw the

soldiers clustered together on the rampart and pointing towards a field, along which a rider was flying at full

speed, holding something white across his saddle. Grigori Aleksandrovich yelled like any Chechene, whipped

"Luckily, thanks to our unsuccessful hunt, our horses were not jaded; they strained under the saddle, and with

every moment we drew nearer and nearer. . . At length I recognised Kazbich, only I could not make out what

"At last we were within gunshot of Kazbich. Whether it was that his horse was jaded or not so good as ours, I

don't know, but, in spite of all his efforts, it did not get along very fast. I fancy at that moment he remembered

"Oh, these young men! Always taking fire at the wrong moment! The shot rang out and the bullet broke one

of the horse's hind legs. It gave a few fiery leaps forward, stumbled, and fell to its knees. Kazbich sprang off,

and then we perceived that it was a woman he was holding in his arms a woman wrapped in a veil. It was

Bela poor Bela! He shouted something to us in his own language and raised his dagger over her. . . Delay

was useless; I fired in my turn, at haphazard. Probably the bullet struck him in the shoulder, because he

dropped his hand suddenly. When the smoke cleared off, we could see the wounded horse lying on the

ground and Bela beside it; but Kazbich, his gun flung away, was clambering like a cat up the cliff, through

the brushwood. I should have liked to have brought him down from there but I hadn't a charge ready. We

jumped off our horses and rushed to Bela. Poor girl! She was lying motionless, and the blood was pouring in

streams from her wound. The villain! If he had struck her to the heart well and good, everything would at

least have been finished there and then; but to stab her in the back like that the scoundrel! She was

unconscious. We tore the veil into strips and bound up the wound as tightly as we could. In vain Pechorin

"Pechorin mounted; I lifted Bela from the ground and somehow managed to place her before him on his

"'Look here, Maksim Maksimych,' said Grigori Aleksandrovich, after a few moments of silence. 'We will

"A CROWD was awaiting us at the fortress gate. Carefully we carried the wounded girl to Pechorin's

quarters, and then we sent for the doctor. The latter was drunk, but he came, examined the wound, and

"She recovered?" I asked the staffcaptain, seizing him by the arm, and involuntarily re joicing.

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

"It was like this: in spite of Pechorin's pro hibition, she went out of the fortress and down to the river. It was

a very hot day, you know, and she sat on a rock and dipped her feet in the water. Up crept Kazbich, pounced

upon her, silenced her, and dragged her into the bushes. Then he sprang on his horse and made off. In the

meantime she succeeded in crying out, the sentries took the alarm, fired, but wide of the mark; and thereupon

"Good gracious! Why, everyone knows these Circassians are a race of thieves; they can't keep their hands off

anything that is left lying about! They may not want a thing, but they will steal it, for all that. Still, you

mustn't be too hard on them. And, besides, he had been in love with her for a long time."

"Yes, she died, but she suffered for a long time, and we were fairly knocked up with her, I can tell you. About

ten o'clock in the evening she came to herself. We were sitting by her bed. As soon as ever she opened her

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

"We began to comfort her, telling her that the doctor had promised infallibly to cure her. She shook her little

"At night she became delirious, her head burned, at times a feverish paroxysm convulsed her whole body.

She talked incoherently about her father, her brother; she yearned for the mountains, for her home. . . Then

she spoke of Pechorin also, called him various fond names, or reproached him for having ceased to love his

He listened to her in silence, his head sunk in his hands; but yet, during the whole time, I did not notice a

single teardrop on his lashes. I do not know whether he was actually unable to weep or was mastering

"Towards morning the delirium passed off. For an hour or so she lay motionless, pale, and so weak that it was

hardly possible to observe that she was breathing. After that she grew better and began to talk: only about

what, think you? Such thoughts come only to the dying! . . . She lamented that she was not a Christian, that in

the other world her soul would never meet the soul of Grigori Aleksandrovich, and that in Paradise another

woman would be his companion. The thought occurred to me to baptize her before her death. I told her my

idea; she looked at me undecidedly, and for a long time was unable to utter a word. Finally she answered that

she would die in the faith in which she had been born. A whole day passed thus. What a change that day

made in her! Her pale cheeks fell in, her eyes grew ever so large, her lips burned. She felt a consuming heat

"The second night came on. We did not close our eyes or leave the bedside. She suffered terribly, and

groaned; and directly the pain began to abate she endeavoured to assure Grigori Aleksandrovich that she felt

better, tried to persuade him to go to bed, kissed his hand and would not let it out of hers. Before the morning

she began to feel the death agony and to toss about. She knocked the bandage off, and the blood flowed

afresh. When the wound was bound up again she grew quiet for a moment and begged Pechorin to kiss her.

He fell on his knees beside the bed, raised her head from the pillow, and pressed his lips to hers which

were growing cold. She threw her trembling arms closely round his neck, as if with that kiss she wished to

yield up her soul to him. No, she did well to die! Why, what would have become of her if Grigori

Aleksandrovich had abandoned her? And that is what would have happened, sooner or later.

"During half the following day she was calm, silent and docile, however much the doctor tortured her with

"'Good heavens!' I said to him, 'you know you said yourself that she was certain to die, so what is the good of

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

"After midday Bela began to suffer from thirst. We opened the windows, but it was hotter outside than in the

room; we placed ice round the bed all to no purpose. I knew that that intolerable thirst was a sign of the

"Pechorin turned pale as a sheet, seized a glass, filled it, and gave it to her. I covered my eyes with my hands

and began to say a prayer I can't remember what. . . Yes, my friend, many a time have I seen people die in

hospitals or on the field of battle, but this was something altogether different! Still, this one thing grieves me,

I must confess: she died without even once calling me to mind. Yet I loved her, I should think, like a father! .

. . Well, God forgive her! . . . And, to tell the truth, what am I that she should have remembered me when she

"As soon as she had drunk the water, she grew easier but in about three minutes she breathed her last! We

"I led Pechorin from the room, and we went on to the fortress rampart. For a long time we walked side by

side, to and fro, speaking not a word and with our hands clasped behind our backs. His face expressed

nothing out of the common and that vexed me. Had I been in his place, I should have died of grief. At

length he sat down on the ground in the shade and began to draw something in the sand with his stick. More

for form's sake than anything, you know, I tried to console him and began to talk. He raised his head and

burst into a laugh! At that laugh a cold shudder ran through me. . . I went away to order a coffin.

"I confess it was partly to distract my thoughts that I busied myself in that way. I possessed a little piece of

Circassian stuff, and I covered the coffin with it, and decked it with some Circassian silver lace which Grigori

"Early next morning we buried her behind the fortress, by the river, beside the spot where she had sat for the

last time. Around her little grave white acacia shrubs and eldertrees have now grown up. I should have liked

to erect a cross, but that would not have done, you know after all, she was not a Christian."

"Pechorin was ill for a long time, and grew thin, poor fellow; but we never spoke of Bela from that time forth.

I saw that it would be dis agreeable to him, so what would have been the use? About three months later he

was appointed to the E Regiment, and departed for Georgia. We have never met since. Yet, when I

come to think of it, somebody told me not long ago that he had returned to Russia but it was not in the

general orders for the corps. Besides, to the like of us news is late in coming."

Hereupon probably to drown sad memories he launched forth into a lengthy dissertation on the

In an hour's time a chance of proceeding on our journey presented itself. The snowstorm subsided, the sky

became clear, and we set off. On the way I involuntarily let the conversation turn on Bela and Pechorin.

"Kazbich? In truth, I don't know. I have heard that with the Shapsugs, on our right flank, there is a certain

Kazbich, a daredevil fellow who rides about at a walking pace, in a red tunic, under our bullets, and bows

politely whenever one hums near him but it can scarcely be the same person!" . . .

In Kobi, Maksim Maksimych and I parted company. I posted on, and he, on account of his heavy luggage,

was unable to follow me. We had no expectation of ever meeting again, but meet we did, and, if you like, I

will tell you how it is quite a history. . . You must acknowledge, though, that Maksim Maksimych is a

man worthy of all respect. . . If you admit that, I shall be fully rewarded for my, perhaps, too lengthy story.

AFTER parting with Maksim Maksimych, I galloped briskly through the gorges of the Terek and Darial,

breakfasted in Kazbek, drank tea in Lars, and arrived at Vladikavkaz in time for supper. I spare you a

description of the mountains, as well as exclamations which convey no meaning, and wordpaintings which

convey no image especially to those who have never been in the Caucasus. I also omit statistical

I put up at the inn which is frequented by all who travel in those parts, and where, by the way, there is no one

you can order to roast your pheasant and cook your cabbagesoup, because the three veterans who have

charge of the inn are either so stupid, or so drunk, that it is impossible to knock any sense at all out of them.

I was informed that I should have to stay there three days longer, because the "Adventure" had not yet arrived

from Ekaterinograd and consequently could not start on the return journey. What a misadventure![1] . . . But

a bad pun is no consolation to a Russian, and, for the sake of something to occupy my thoughts, I took it into

my head to write down the story about Bela, which I had heard from Maksim Maksimych never

imagining that it would be the first link in a long chain of novels: you see how an insignificant event has

sometimes dire results! . . . Perhaps, however, you do not know what the "Adventure" is? It is a convoy

composed of half a company of infantry, with a cannon which escorts baggagetrains through Kabardia

[1] In Russian okaziya=occasion, adventure, etc.; chto za okaziya=how unfortunate!

The first day I found the time hang on my hands dreadfully. Early next morning a vehicle drove into the

courtyard. . . Aha! Maksim Maksimych! . . . We met like a couple of old friends. I offered to share my own

room with him, and he accepted my hospitality without standing upon ceremony; he even clapped me on the

shoulder and puckered up his mouth by way of a smile a queer fellow, that! . . .

Maksim Maksimych was profoundly versed in the culinary art. He roasted the pheasant astonishingly well

and basted it successfully with cucumber sauce. I was obliged to acknowledge that, but for him, I should have

had to remain on a dryfood diet. A bottle of Kakhetian wine helped us to forget the modest number of

dishes of which there was one, all told. Then we lit our pipes, took our chairs, and sat down I by the

window, and he by the stove, in which a fire had been lighted because the day was damp and cold. We

remained silent. What had we to talk about? He had already told me all that was of interest about himself and

I had nothing to relate. I looked out of the window. Here and there, behind the trees, I caught glimpses of a

number of poor, low houses straggling along the bank of the Terek, which flowed seaward in an

everwidening stream; farther off rose the darkblue, jagged wall of the mountains, behind which Mount

Kazbek gazed forth in his high priest's hat of white. I took a mental farewell of them; I felt sorry to leave

Thus we sat for a considerable time. The sun was sinking behind the cold summits and a whitish mist was

beginning to spread over the valleys, when the silence was broken by the jingling of the bell of a

travellingcarriage and the shouting of drivers in the street. A few vehicles, accompanied by dirty

Armenians, drove into the courtyard of the inn, and behind them came an empty travellingcarriage. Its light

movement, comfortable arrangement, and elegant appearance gave it a kind of foreign stamp. Be hind it

walked a man with large moustaches. He was wearing a Hungarian jacket and was rather well dressed for a

manservant. From the bold manner in which he shook the ashes out of his pipe and shouted at the coachman

it was impossible to mistake his calling. He was obviously the spoiled servant of an indolent master

"Tell me, my good man," I called to him out of the window. "What is it? Has the 'Ad venture' arrived,

He gave me a rather insolent glance, straight ened his cravat, and turned away. An Armenian, who was

walking near him, smiled and answered for him that the "Adventure" had, in fact, arrived, and would start on

"Thank heavens!" said Maksim Maksimych, who had come up to the window at that moment. "What a

wonderful carriage!" he added; "probably it belongs to some official who is going to Tiflis for a judicial

inquiry. You can see that he is unacquainted with our little mountains! No, my friend, you're not serious!

They are not for the like of you; why, they would shake even an English carriage to bits! But who could it

We went out into the corridor, at the end of which there was an open door leading into a side room. The

"I say, my man!" the staffcaptain asked him: "Whose is that marvellous carriage? Eh? A beautiful

Without turning round the manservant growled something to himself as he undid a portmanteau. Maksim

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

"What did you say? What? Pechorin? Great Heavens! . . . Did he not serve in the Caucasus?" exclaimed

"Well! Just so! . . . Just so! . . . Grigori Aleksandrovich? . . . that is his name, of course? Your master and I

were friends," he added, giving the manservant a friendly clap on the shoulder with such force as to cause

"What a fellow you are, my friend! Why, don't you know, your master and I were bosom friends, and lived

The servant intimated that Pechorin had stayed to take supper and pass the 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? . . . If you do, tell him that Maksim Maksimych is here; just say that

The manservant made a scornful face on hearing such a modest promise, but he assured Maksim Maksimych

"He'll be sure to come running up directly!" said Maksim Maksimych, with an air of triumph. "I will go

outside the gate and wait for him! Ah, it's a pity I am not acquainted with Colonel N!"

Maksim Maksimych sat down on a little bench outside the gate, and I went to my room. I confess that I also

was awaiting this Pechorin's appearance with a certain amount of impatience although, from the

staffcaptain's story, I had formed a by no means favourable idea of him. Still, certain traits in his character

struck me as remarkable. In an hour's time one of the old soldiers brought a steaming samovar and a teapot.

"You are right, you know; it would be better to have a drop of tea but I was waiting for Pechorin. His man

The staffcaptain hurriedly sipped a cup of tea, refused a second, and went off again outside the gate not

without a certain amount of dis quietude. It was obvious that the old man was mortified by Pechorin's

neglect, the more so because a short time previously he had been telling me of their friendship, and up to an

hour ago had been convinced that Pechorin would come running up immediately on hearing his name.

It was already late and dark when I opened the window again and began to call Maksim Maksimych, saying

that it was time to go to bed. He muttered something through his teeth. I repeated my invitation he made

I left a candle on the stoveseat, and, wrapping myself up in my cloak, I lay down on the couch and soon fell

into slumber; and I would have slept on quietly had not Maksim Maksimych awakened me as he came into

the room. It was then very late. He threw his pipe on the table, began to walk up and down the room, and to

rattle about at the stove. At last he lay down, but for a long time he kept coughing, spitting, and tossing about.

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

"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 their youthful strength and supple ness.

The morning was fresh and lovely. Golden clouds had massed themselves on the mountain tops like a new

range of aerial mountains. Before the gate a wide square spread out; behind it the bazaar was seething with

people, the day being Sunday. Barefooted Ossete boys, carrying wallets of honeycomb on their shoulders,

were hovering around me. I cursed them; I had other things to think of I was beginning to share the

Before ten minutes had passed the man we were awaiting appeared at the end of the square. He was walking

with Colonel N., who accom panied him as far as the inn, said goodbye to him, and then turned back to the

fortress. I im mediately despatched one of the old soldiers for Maksim Maksimych.

Pechorin's manservant went out to meet him and informed him that they were going to put to at once; he

handed him a box of cigars, received a few orders, and went off about his business. His master lit a cigar,

yawned once or twice, and sat down on the bench on the other side of the gate. I must now draw his portrait

He was of medium height. His shapely, slim figure and broad shoulders gave evidence of a strong

constitution, capable of enduring all the hardships of a nomad life and changes of climates, and of resisting

with success both the demoral ising effects of life in the Capital and the tempests of the soul. His velvet

overcoat, which was covered with dust, was fastened by the two lower buttons only, and exposed to view

linen of dazzling whiteness, which proved that he had the habits of a gentleman. His gloves, soiled by travel,

seemed as though made ex pressly for his small, aristocratic hand, and when he took one glove off I was

astonished at the thinness of his pale fingers. His gait was care less and indolent, but I noticed that he did

not swing his arms a sure sign of a certain secretive ness of character. These remarks, however, are the

result of my own observations, and I have not the least desire to make you blindly believe in them. When he

was in the act of seating himself on the bench his upright figure bent as if there was not a single bone in his

back. The attitude of his whole body was expressive of a certain nervous weakness; he looked, as he sat, like

one of Balzac's thirtyyearold coquettes resting in her downy armchair after a fatiguing ball. From my first

glance at his face I should not have supposed his age to be more than twenty three, though afterwards I

should have put it down as thirty. His smile had something of a childlike quality. His skin possessed a kind

of feminine delicacy. His fair hair, naturally curly, most picturesquely outlined his pale and noble brow, on

which it was only after lengthy observa tion that traces could be noticed of wrinkles, intersecting each other:

probably they showed up more distinctly in moments of anger or mental disturbance. Notwithstanding the

light colour of his hair, his moustaches and eyebrows were black a sign of breeding in a man, just as a

black mane and a black tail in a white horse. To complete the portrait, I will add that he had a slightly

turnedup nose, teeth of dazzling whiteness, and brown eyes I must say a few words more about his eyes.

In the first place, they never laughed when he laughed. Have you not happened, yourself, to notice the same

peculiarity in certain people? . . . It is a sign either of an evil disposition or of deep and constant grief. From

behind his half lowered eyelashes they shone with a kind of phosphorescent gleam if I may so express

my self which was not the reflection of a fervid soul or of a playful fancy, but a glitter like to that of

smooth steel, blinding but cold. His glance brief, but piercing and heavy left the unpleasant impression

of an indiscreet question and might have seemed insolent had it not been so unconcernedly tranquil.

It may be that all these remarks came into my mind only after I had known some details of his life, and it may

be, too, that his appearance would have produced an entirely different im pression upon another; but, as you

will not hear of him from anyone except myself, you will have to rest content, nolens volens, with the

descrip tion I have given. In conclusion, I will say that, speaking generally, he was a very goodlooking

man, and had one of those original types of countenance which are particularly pleasing to women.

The horses were already put to; now and then the bell jingled on the shaftbow;[1] and the manservant had

twice gone up to Pechorin with the announcement that everything was ready, but still there was no sign of

Maksim Maksimych. Fortunately Pechorin was sunk in thought as he gazed at the jagged, blue peaks of the

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

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

I looked in the direction of the square and there I descried Maksim Maksimych running as hard as he could.

In a few moments he was beside us. He was scarcely able to breathe; perspiration was rolling in large drops

from his face; wet tufts of grey hair, escaping from under his cap, were glued to his forehead; his knees were

shaking. . . He was about to throw himself on Pechorin's neck, but the latter, rather coldly, though with a

smile of welcome, stretched out his hand to him. For a moment the staff captain was petrified, but then

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

"And . . . thou . . . you?"[1] murmured the old man, with tears in his eyes. "What an age it is since I have seen

[1] "Thou" is the form of address used in speaking to an intimate friend, etc. Pechorin had used the more

"But surely not immediately? . . . Wait a little, my dear fellow! . . . Surely we are not going to part at once? . .

"Good heavens, good heavens! But where are you going to in such a hurry? There was so much I should have

liked to tell you! So much to question you about! . . . Well, what of your self? Have you retired? . . . What? .

"You remember the life we led in the fortress? A splendid country for hunting! You were awfully fond of

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

"We will have a splendid dinner," he said. "I have two pheasants; and the Kakhetian wine is excellent here . .

. not what it is in Georgia, of course, but still of the best sort. . . We will have a talk. . . You will tell me about

"In truth, there's nothing for me to tell, dear Maksim Maksimych. . . However, goodbye, it is time for me to

be off. . . I am in a hurry. . . I thank you for not having forgotten me," he added, taking him by the hand.

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

"Forget!" he growled. "I have not for gotten anything. . . Well, God be with you! . . . It is not like this that I

"Come! That will do, that will do!" said Pechorin, giving him a friendly embrace. "Is it possible that I am not

the same as I used to be? . . . What can we do? Everyone must go his own way. . . Are we ever going to meet

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

"Wait, wait!" cried Maksim Maksimych suddenly, holding on to the carriage door. "I was nearly forgetting

altogether. Your papers were left with me, Grigori Aleksandrovich. . . I drag them about everywhere I go. . . I

thought I should find you in Georgia, but this is where it has pleased Heaven that we should meet. What's to

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

By this time the carriage was a long way off, but Pechorin made a sign with his hand which might be

"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 flinty road had long ceased to be audible, but the

"Yes," he said at length, endeavouring to assume an air of indifference, although from time to time a tear of

vexation glistened on his eyelashes. "Of course we were friends well, but what are friends nowadays? . . .

What could I be to him? I'm not rich; I've no rank; and, moreover, I'm not at all his match in years! See

what a dandy he has become since he has been staying in Petersburg again! . . . What a carriage! . . . What a

"Tell me," he continued, turning to me, "what do you think of it? Come, what the devil is he off to Persia for

now? . . . Good Lord, it is ridiculous ridiculous! . . . But I always knew that he was a fickle man, and one

you could never rely on! . . . But, indeed, it is a pity that he should come to a bad end . . . yet it can't be

otherwise! . . . I always did say that there is no good to be got out of a man who forgets his old friends!" . . .

Hereupon he turned away in order to hide his agitation and proceeded to walk about the court yard, around

his cart, pretending to be examining the wheels, whilst his eyes kept filling with tears every moment.

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

He looked at me in surprise, growled some thing through his teeth, and began to rummage in his

portmanteau. Out he drew a writingbook and threw it contemptuously on the ground; then a second a

third a tenth shared the same fate. There was something childish in his vexation, and it struck me as

"Yes, print them in the newspapers, if you like. What is it to me? Am I a friend or relation of his? It is true

that for a long time we lived under one roof . . . but aren't there plenty of people with whom I have lived?" . .

I seized the papers and lost no time in carry ing them away, fearing that the staffcaptain might repent his

action. Soon somebody came to tell us that the "Adventure" would set off in an hour's time. I ordered the

I had already put my cap on when the staff captain entered the room. Apparently he had not got ready for

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

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

I understood. For the first time in his life, probably, the poor old man had, to speak by the book, thrown aside

official business 'for the sake of his personal requirements' . . . and how he had been rewarded!

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

"What should we rough old men be thinking of to run after you? You young men are fashionable and proud:

under the Circassian bullets you are friendly enough with us . . . but when you meet us afterwards you are

"Well, but you know I'm quite right. How ever, I wish you all good luck and a pleasant journey."

We took a rather cold farewell of each other. The kindhearted Maksim Maksimych had be come the

obstinate, cantankerous staffcaptain! And why? Because Pechorin, through ab sentmindedness or from

some other cause, had extended his hand to him when Maksim Maksimych was going to throw himself on his

neck! Sad it is to see when a young man loses his best hopes and dreams, when from before his eyes is

withdrawn the rosehued veil through which he has looked upon the deeds and feelings of mankind; although

there is the hope that the old illusions will be replaced by new ones, none the less evanescent, but, on the

other hand, none the less sweet. But wherewith can they be replaced when one is at the age of Maksim

Maksimych? Do what you will, the heart hardens and the soul shrinks in upon itself.

I LEARNED not long ago that Pechorin had died on his way back from Persia. The news afforded me great

delight; it gave me the right to print these notes; and I have taken advantage of the opportunity of putting my

name at the head of another person's productions. Heaven grant that my readers may not punish me for such

I must now give some explanation of the reasons which have induced me to betray to the public the inmost

secrets of a man whom I never knew. If I had even been his friend, well and good: the artful indiscretion of

the true friend is intelligible to everybody; but I only saw Pechorin once in my life on the highroad

and, consequently, I cannot cherish towards him that inexplicable hatred, which, hiding its face under the

mask of friendship, awaits but the death or misfortune of the beloved object to burst over its head in a storm

On reading over these notes, I have become convinced of the sincerity of the man who has so unsparingly

exposed to view his own weaknesses and vices. The history of a man's soul, even the pettiest soul, is hardly

less interesting and useful than the history of a whole people; especially when the former is the result of the

observations of a mature mind upon itself, and has been written without any egoistical desire of arousing

sympathy or astonishment. Rous seau's Confessions has precisely this defect he read it to his friends.

And, so, it is nothing but the desire to be useful that has constrained me to print fragments of this diary which

fell into my hands by chance. Although I have altered all the proper names, those who are mentioned in it

will probably recog nise themselves, and, it may be, will find some justification for actions for which they

have hitherto blamed a man who has ceased henceforth to have anything in common with this world. We

I have inserted in this book only those portions of the diary which refer to Pechorin's sojourn in the Caucasus.

There still remains in my hands a thick writingbook in which he tells the story of his whole life. Some time

or other that, too, will present itself before the tribunal of the world, but, for many and weighty reasons, I do

Possibly some readers would like to know my own opinion of Pechorin's character. My answer is: the title of

TAMAN is the nastiest little hole of all the seaports of Russia. I was all but starved there, to say nothing of

I arrived late at night by the postcar. The driver stopped the tired troika[1] at the gate of the only stonebuilt

house that stood at the entrance to the town. The sentry, a Cossack from the Black Sea, hearing the jingle of

the bell, cried out, sleepily, in his barbarous voice, "Who goes there?" An underofficer of Cossacks and a

headborough[2] came out. I explained that I was an officer bound for the activeservice detachment on

Government business, and I proceeded to demand official quarters. The headborough conducted us round the

town. Whatever hut we drove up to we found to be occupied. The weather was cold; I had not slept for three

[2] Desyatnik, a superintendent of ten (men or huts), i.e. an officer like the old English tithingman or

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

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

Failing to grasp the exact signification of the last phrase, I ordered him to go on, and, after a lengthy

peregrination through muddy byways, at the sides of which I could see nothing but old fences, we drove up to

The full moon was shining on the little reed thatched roof and the white walls of my new dwelling. In the

courtyard, which was sur rounded by a wall of rubblestone, there stood another miserable hovel, smaller

and older than the first and all askew. The shore descended precipitously to the sea, almost from its very

walls, and down below, with incessant murmur, plashed the darkblue waves. The moon gazed softly upon

the watery element, restless but obedient to it, and I was able by its light to distinguish two ships lying at

some distance from the shore, their black rigging motionless and standing out, like cobwebs, against the pale

"There are vessels in the harbour," I said to myself. "Tomorrow I will set out for Gelen jik."

I had with me, in the capacity of soldier servant, a Cossack of the frontier army. Order ing him to take

down the portmanteau and dis miss the driver, I began to call the master of the house. No answer! I knocked

all was silent within! . . . What could it mean? At length a boy of about fourteen crept out from the hall.

The door opened of its own accord, and a breath of moistureladen air was wafted from the hut. I struck a

lucifer match and held it to the boy's face. It lit up two white eyes. He was totally blind, obviously so from

I confess that I have a violent prejudice against all blind, oneeyed, deaf, dumb, legless, armless,

hunchbacked, and suchlike people. I have observed that there is always a certain strange connection

between a man's exterior and his soul; as, if when the body loses a limb, the soul also loses some power of

And so I began to examine the blind boy's face. But what could be read upon a face from which the eyes are

missing?. . . For a long time I gazed at him with involuntary compassion, when suddenly a scarcely

perceptible smile flitted over his thin lips, producing, I know not why, a most unpleasant impression upon

me. I began to feel a suspicion that the blind boy was not so blind as he appeared to be. In vain I endeavoured

to convince myself that it was impossible to counterfeit cataracts; and besides, what reason could there be for

doing such a thing? But I could not help my sus picions. I am easily swayed by prejudice. . .

I entered the hut. Its whole furniture con sisted of two benches and a table, together with an enormous chest

beside the stove. There was not a single ikon to be seen on the wall a bad sign! The seawind burst in

through the broken windowpane. I drew a wax candleend from my portmanteau, lit it, and began to put my

things out. My sabre and gun I placed in a corner, my pistols I laid on the table. I spread my felt cloak out on

one bench, and the Cossack his on the other. In ten minutes the latter was snoring, but I could not go to sleep

About an hour passed thus. The moon shone in at the window and its rays played along the earthen floor of

the hut. Suddenly a shadow flitted across the bright strip of moonshine which intersected the floor. I raised

myself up a little and glanced out of the window. Again somebody ran by it and disappeared goodness

knows where! It seemed impossible for anyone to descend the steep cliff overhanging the shore, but that was

the only thing that could have happened. I rose, threw on my tunic, girded on a dagger, and with the utmost

quietness went out of the hut. The blind boy was coming towards me. I hid by the fence, and he passed by me

with a sure but cautious step. He was carrying a parcel under his arm. He turned towards the harbour and

"On that day the dumb will cry out and the blind will see," I said to myself, following him just close enough

Meanwhile the moon was becoming overcast by clouds and a mist had risen upon the sea. The lantern alight

in the stern of a ship close at hand was scarcely visible through the mist, and by the shore there glimmered

the foam of the waves, which every moment threatened to submerge it. Descending with difficulty, I stole

along the steep declivity, and all at once I saw the blind boy come to a standstill and then turn down to the

right. He walked so close to the water's edge that it seemed as if the waves would straight way seize him and

carry him off. But, judging by the confidence with which he stepped from rock to rock and avoided the

waterchannels, this was evidently not the first time that he had made that journey. Finally he stopped, as

though listening for something, squatted down upon the ground, and laid the parcel beside him. Concealing

myself behind a projecting rock on the shore, I kept watch on his movements. After a few minutes a white

figure made its appearance from the opposite direction. It came up to the blind boy and sat down beside him.

An interval of silence followed. One thing, however, struck me in talking to me the blind boy spoke in the

"You see, I am right!" the blind boy went on, clapping his hands. "Yanko is not afraid of sea, nor winds, nor

mist, nor coastguards! Just listen! That is not the water plashing, you can't deceive me it is his long oars."

I confess that, much as I tried to make out in the distance something resembling a boat, my efforts were

unsuccessful. About ten minutes passed thus, when a black speck appeared between the mountains of the

waves! At one time it grew larger, at another smaller. Slowly rising upon the crests of the waves and swiftly

"He must be a brave sailor," I thought, "to have determined to cross the twenty versts of strait on a night like

Reflecting thus, I gazed with an involuntary beating of the heart at the poor boat. It dived like a duck, and

then, with rapidly swinging oars like wings it sprang forth from the abyss amid the splashes of the

foam. "Ah!" I thought, "it will be dashed against the shore with all its force and broken to pieces!" But it

turned aside adroitly and leaped unharmed into a little creek. Out of it stepped a man of medium height,

wearing a Tartar sheepskin cap. He waved his hand, and all three set to work to drag something out of the

boat. The cargo was so large that, to this day, I cannot understand how it was that the boat did not sink.

Each of them shouldered a bundle, and they set off along the shore, and I soon lost sight of them. I had to

return home; but I confess I was rendered uneasy by all these strange happenings, and I found it hard to await

My Cossack was very much astonished when, on waking up, he saw me fully dressed. I did not, however, tell

him the reason. For some time I stood at the window, gazing admiringly at the blue sky all studded with

wisps of cloud, and at the distant shore of the Crimea, stretching out in a lilaccoloured streak and ending in

a cliff, on the summit of which the white tower of the lighthouse was gleaming. Then I betook myself to the

fortress, Phanagoriya, in order to ascertain from the Commandant at what hour I should depart for Gelenjik.

But the Commandant, alas! could not give me any definite information. The vessels lying in the harbour were

all either guardships or merchantvessels which had not yet even begun to take in lading.

"Maybe in about three or four days' time a mailboat will come in," said the Commandant, "and then we shall

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

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

"It is uncanny here! I met an underofficer from the Black Sea today he's an acquaintance of mine he

was in my detachment last year. When I told him where we were staying, he said, 'That place is uncanny, old

fellow; they're wicked people there!' . . . And, indeed, what sort of a blind boy is that? He goes everywhere

alone, to fetch water and to buy bread at the bazaar. It is evident they have become accus tomed to that sort

"Well, what then? Tell me, though, has the mistress of the place put in an appear ance?"

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

I entered the hovel. A blazing fire was burning in the stove, and they were cooking a dinner which struck me

as being a rather luxurious one for poor people. To all my questions the old woman replied that she was deaf

and could not hear me. There was nothing to be got out of her. I turned to the blind boy who was sitting in

"Now, then, you little blind devil," I said, taking him by the ear. "Tell me, where were you roaming with the

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

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

I wrapped myself up in my felt cloak and, sitting down on a rock by the fence, gazed into the distance. Before

me stretched the sea, agitated by the storm of the previous night, and its monotonous roar, like the murmur of

a town over which slumber is beginning to creep, recalled bygone years to my mind, and trans ported my

thoughts northward to our cold Capital. Agitated by my recollections, I became oblivious of my

About an hour passed thus, perhaps even longer. Suddenly something resembling a song struck upon my ear.

It was a song, and the voice was a woman's, young and fresh but, where was it coming from?. . . I

listened; it was a harmonious melody now longdrawn out and plaintive, now swift and lively. I looked

around me there was nobody to be seen. I listened again the sounds seemed to be falling from the sky.

I raised my eyes. On the roof of my cabin was standing a young girl in a striped dress and with her hair

hanging loose a regular waternymph. Shading her eyes from the sun's rays with the palm of her hand,

she was gazing intently into the distance. At one time, she would laugh and talk to herself, at another, she

Involuntarily the thought occurred to me that I had heard the same voice the night before. I reflected for a

moment, and when I looked up at the roof again there was no girl to be seen. Suddenly she darted past me,

with another song on her lips, and, snapping her fingers, she ran up to the old woman. Thereupon a quarrel

arose between them. The old woman grew angry, and the girl laughed loudly. And then I saw my Undine

running and gambolling again. She came up to where I was, stopped, and gazed fixedly into my face as if

surprised at my presence. Then she turned carelessly away and went quietly towards the harbour. But this was

not all. The whole day she kept hovering around my lodging, singing and gambolling without a moment's

interruption. Strange creature! There was not the slightest sign of insanity in her face; on the contrary, her

eyes, which were continually resting upon me, were bright and piercing. Moreover, they seemed to be

endowed with a certain magnetic power, and each time they looked at me they appeared to be expecting a

question. But I had only to open my lips to speak, and away she would run, with a sly smile.

Certainly never before had I seen a woman like her. She was by no means beautiful; but, as in other matters, I

have my own prepossessions on the subject of beauty. There was a good deal of breeding in her. . . Breeding

in women, as in horses, is a great thing: a discovery, the credit of which belongs to young France. It that is

to say, breeding, not young France is chiefly to be detected in the gait, in the hands and feet; the nose, in

particular, is of the greatest significance. In Russia a straight nose is rarer than a small foot.

My songstress appeared to be not more than eighteen years of age. The unusual suppleness of her figure, the

characteristic and original way she had of inclining her head, her long, lightbrown hair, the golden sheen of

her slightly sunburnt neck and shoulders, and especially her straight nose all these held me fascinated.

Although in her sidelong glances I could read a certain wildness and disdain, although in her smile there was

a certain vagueness, yet such is the force of predilections that straight nose of hers drove me crazy. I

fancied that I had found Goethe's Mignon that queer creature of his German imagination. And, indeed,

there was a good deal of similarity between them; the same rapid transitions from the utmost restlessness to

complete immobility, the same enigmatical speeches, the same gambols, the same strange songs.

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

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

"Nobody taught me; it comes into my head and I sing; whoever is to hear it, he will hear it, and whoever

"What a secretive girl you are! But look here, I have learned something about you" she neither changed

countenance nor moved her lips, as though my discovery was of no concern to her "I have learned that

And, thereupon, I very gravely retailed to her all that I had seen, thinking that I should embarrass her. Not a

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

"But supposing, now, I was to take it into my head to inform the Commandant?" and here I assumed a very

She gave a sudden spring, began to sing, and hid herself like a bird frightened out of a thicket. My last words

were altogether out of place. I had no suspicion then how momentous they were, but afterwards I had

As soon as the dusk of evening fell, I ordered the Cossack to heat the teapot, campaign fashion. I lighted a

candle and sat down by the table, smoking my travellingpipe. I was just about to finish my second tumbler

of tea when suddenly the door creaked and I heard behind me the sound of footsteps and the light rustle of a

It was she my Undine. Softly and without saying a word she sat down opposite to me and fixed her eyes

upon me. Her glance seemed wondrously tender, I know not why; it re minded me of one of those glances

which, in years gone by, so despotically played with my life. She seemed to be waiting for a question, but I

kept silence, filled with an inexplicable sense of embarrassment. Mental agitation was evinced by the dull

pallor which overspread her countenance; her hand, which I noticed was trembling slightly, moved aimlessly

about the table. At one time her breast heaved, and at another she seemed to be holding her breath. This little

comedy was beginning to pall upon me, and I was about to break the silence in a most prosaic manner, that is,

by offering her a glass of tea; when suddenly, springing up, she threw her arms around my neck, and I felt her

moist, fiery lips pressed upon mine. Darkness came before my eyes, my head began to swim. I embraced her

with the whole strength of youthful passion. But, like a snake, she glided from between my arms, whispering

"Little devil!" cried the Cossack, who had taken up his position on the straw and had contemplated warming

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

I stuffed a pistol in my belt and went out. She was waiting for me at the edge of the cliff. Her attire was more

I cannot understand how it was that I did not break my neck. Down below we turned to the right and

proceeded to take the path along which I had followed the blind boy the evening before. The moon had not

yet risen, and only two little stars, like two guardian lighthouses, were twink ling in the darkblue vault of

heaven. The heavy waves, with measured and even motion, rolled one after the other, scarcely lifting the

I hesitated. I am no lover of sentimental trips on the sea; but this was not the time to draw back. She leaped

into the boat, and I after her; and I had not time to recover my wits before I observed that we were adrift.

"It means," she answered, seating me on the bench and throwing her arms around my waist, "it means that I

Her cheek was pressed close to mine. and I felt her burning breath upon my face. Suddenly something fell

noisily into the water. I clutched at my belt my pistol was gone! Ah, now a terrible suspicion crept into

my soul, and the blood rushed to my head! I looked round. We were about fifty fathoms from the shore, and I

could not swim a stroke! I tried to thrust her away from me, but she clung like a cat to my clothes, and

suddenly a violent wrench all but threw me into the sea. The boat rocked, but I righted myself, and a

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

Her fingers crunched, but her serpentlike nature bore up against the torture, and she did not utter a cry.

And, with a supernatural effort, she flung me on to the side of the boat; we both hung half overboard; her hair

touched the water. The decisive moment had come. I planted my knee against the bottom of the boat, caught

her by the tresses with one hand and by the throat with the other; she let go my clothes, and, in an instant, I

It was now rather dark; once or twice her head appeared for an instant amidst the sea foam, and I saw no

I found the half of an old oar at the bottom of the boat, and somehow or other, after lengthy efforts, I made

fast to the harbour. Making my way along the shore towards my hut, I involun tarily gazed in the direction

of the spot where, on the previous night, the blind boy had awaited the nocturnal mariner. The moon was

already rolling through the sky, and it seemed to me that somebody in white was sitting on the shore. Spurred

by curiosity, I crept up and crouched down in the grass on the top of the cliff. By thrusting my head out a

little way I was able to get a good view of everything that was happen ing down below, and I was not very

much aston ished, but almost rejoiced, when I recognised my waternymph. She was wringing the sea

foam from her long hair. Her wet garment out lined her supple figure and her high bosom.

Soon a boat appeared in the distance; it drew near rapidly; and, as on the night before, a man in a Tartar cap

stepped out of it, but he now had his hair cropped round in the Cossack fashion, and a large knife was

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

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 where I mean? There are valuable goods

there. Tell" I could not catch the name "that I am no longer his servant. Things have gone badly. He

will see me no more. It is dangerous now. I will go seek work in another place, and he will never be able to

find another daredevil like me. Tell him also that if he had paid me a little better for my labours, I would not

have forsaken him. For me there is a way anywhere, if only the wind blows and the sea roars."

"She is coming with me. It is impossible for her to remain here. Tell the old woman that it is time for her to

die; she has been here a long time, and the line must be drawn somewhere. As for us, she will never see us

In the meantime my Undine had sprung into the boat. She beckoned to her companion with her hand. He

The blind boy did not pick it up. Yanko took his seat in the boat; the wind was blowing from the shore; they

hoisted the little sail and sped rapidly away. For a long time the white sail gleamed in the moonlight amid the

dark waves. Still the blind boy remained seated upon the shore, and then I heard something which sounded

like sobbing. The blind boy was, in fact, weeping, and for a long, long time his tears flowed. . . I grew

heavyhearted. For what reason should fate have thrown me into the peaceful circle of honourable

smugglers? Like a stone cast into a smooth well, I had disturbed their quietude, and I barely escaped going to

I returned home. In the hall the burntout candle was spluttering on a wooden platter, and my Cossack,

contrary to orders, was fast asleep, with his gun held in both hands. I left him at rest, took the candle, and

entered the hut. Alas! my cashbox, my sabre with the silver chasing, my Daghestan dagger the gift of a

friend all had vanished! It was then that I guessed what articles the cursed blind boy had been dragging

along. Roughly shaking the Cossack, I woke him up, rated him, and lost my temper. But what was the good

of that? And would it not have been ridiculous to com plain to the authorities that I had been robbed by a

Thank heaven an opportunity of getting away presented itself in the morning, 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, a travelling officer, and one, moreover, with an order for posthorses on

I ONCE happened to spend a couple of weeks in a Cossack village on our left flank. A battalion of infantry

was stationed there; and it was the custom of the officers to meet at each other's quarters in turn and play

On one occasion it was at Major S's finding our game of Boston not sufficiently ab sorbing, we

threw the cards under the table and sat on for a long time, talking. The con versation, for once in a way, was

interesting. The subject was the Mussulman tradition that a man's fate is written in heaven, and we dis

cussed the fact that it was gaining many votaries, even amongst our own countrymen. Each of us related

"What you have been saying, gentlemen, proves nothing," said the old major. "I presume there is not one of

you who has actually been a witness of the strange events which you are citing in support of your opinions?"

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

"It is all nonsense!" someone said. "Where are the trustworthy people who have seen the Register in which

the appointed hour of our death is recorded? . . . And if predestination really exists, why are free will and

At that moment an officer who was sitting in a corner of the room stood up, and, coming slowly to the table,

surveyed us all with a quiet and solemn glance. He was a native of Servia, as was evident from his name.

The outward appearance of Lieutenant Vulich was quite in keeping with his character. His height, swarthy

complexion, black hair, piercing black eyes, large but straight nose an attribute of his nation and the

cold and melancholy smile which ever hovered around his lips, all seemed to concur in lending him the

appearance of a man apart, incapable of reciprocating the thoughts and passions of those whom fate gave him

He was brave; talked little, but sharply; confided his thoughts and family secrets to no one; drank hardly a

drop of wine; and never dangled after the young Cossack girls, whose charm it is difficult to realise without

having seen them. It was said, however, that the colonel's wife was not indifferent to those ex pressive eyes

There was only one passion which he did not conceal the passion for gambling. At the green table he

would become oblivious of everything. He usually lost, but his constant ill success only aroused his

obstinacy. It was related that, on one occasion, during a nocturnal expedition, he was keeping the bank on a

pillow, and had a terrific run of luck. Suddenly shots rang out. The alarm was sounded; all but Vulich jumped

Notwithstanding the general confusion, Vulich calmly finished the deal seven was the card. By the time

he reached the cordon a violent fusillade was in progress. Vulich did not trouble himself about the bullets or

"Seven it was!" he cried out, as at length he perceived him in the cordon of skirmishers who were beginning

to dislodge the enemy from the wood; and going up to him, he drew out his purse and pocketbook and

handed them to the winner, notwithstanding the latter's objections on the score of the inconvenience of the

payment. That unpleasant duty discharged, Vulich dashed forward, carried the soldiers along after him, and,

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

"Gentlemen!" he said and his voice was quiet though lower in tone than usual "gentle men, what is

the good of futile discussions? You wish for proofs? I propose that we try the experiment on ourselves:

whether a man can of his own accord dispose of his life, or whether the fateful moment is appointed

"I maintain that there is no such thing as predestination," I said, scattering on the table a score or so of ducats

"Done," answered Vulich in a hollow voice. "Major, you will be judge. Here are fifteen ducats, the remaining

"Very well," said the major; "though, indeed, I do not understand what is the question at issue and how you

Without a word Vulich went into the major's bedroom, and we followed him. He went up to the wall on

which the major's weapons were hang ing, and took down at random one of the pistols of which there

were several of different cali bres. We were still in the dark as to what he meant to do. But, when he cocked

the pistol and sprinkled powder in the pan, several of the officers, crying out in spite of themselves, seized

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

Vulich went into the other room and sat by the table; we all followed him. With a sign he invited us to sit

round him. We obeyed in silence at that moment he had acquired a certain mysterious authority over us. I

stared fixedly into his face; but he met my scrutinising gaze with a quiet and steady glance, and his pallid lips

smiled. But, notwithstanding his composure, it seemed to me that I could read the stamp of death upon his

pale countenance. I have noticed and many old soldiers have cor roborated my observation that a

man who is to die in a few hours frequently bears on his face a certain strange stamp of inevitable fate, so that

"There, that will do, Vulich!" exclaimed somebody. "Of course it must be loaded, if it was one of those

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

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

I took, as I remember now, an ace of hearts off the table and threw it into the air. All held their breath. With

eyes full of terror and a certain vague curiosity they glanced rapidly from the pistol to the fateful ace, which

slowly descended, quivering in the air. At the moment it touched the table Vulich pulled the trigger . . . a

He cocked the pistol again, and took aim at a foragecap which was hanging above the window. A shot rang

out. Smoke filled the room; when it cleared away, the foragecap was taken down. It had been shot right

For two or three minutes no one was able to utter a word. Very quietly Vulich poured my ducats from the

Discussions arose as to why the pistol had not gone off the first time. Some maintained that probably the pan

had been obstructed; others whispered that the powder had been damp the first time, and that, afterwards,

Vulich had sprinkled some fresh powder on it; but I maintained that the last supposition was wrong, because I

"For the first time in my life!" he answered, with a complacent smile. "It is better than 'bank' and 'shtoss.'"[1]

"I do believe in it; only I cannot understand now why it appeared to me that you must inevitably die today!"

And this same man, who, such a short time before, had with the greatest calmness aimed a pistol at his own

"That will do, though!" he said, rising to his feet. "Our wager is finished, and now your observations, it seems

He took up his cap and departed. The whole affair struck me as being strange and not without reason.

Shortly after that, all the officers broke up and went home, discussing Vulich's freaks from different points of

view, and, doubt less, with one voice calling me an egoist for having taken up a wager against a man who

wanted to shoot himself, as if he could not have found a convenient opportunity without my intervention.

I returned home by the deserted byways of the village. The moon, full and red like the glow of a

conflagration, was beginning to make its appear ance from behind the jagged horizon of the housetops; the

stars were shining tranquilly in the deep, blue vault of the sky; and I was struck by the absurdity of the idea

when I recalled to mind that once upon a time there were some exceed ingly wise people who thought that

the stars of heaven participated in our insignificant squabbles for a slice of ground, or some other imaginary

rights. And what then? These lamps, lighted, so they fancied, only to illuminate their battles and triumphs, are

burning with all their former brilliance, whilst the wiseacres themselves, to gether with their hopes and

passions, have long been extinguished, like a little fire kindled at the edge of a forest by a careless wayfarer!

But, on the other hand, what strength of will was lent them by the conviction that the entire heavens, with

their innumerable habitants, were looking at them with a sympathy, unalterable, though mute! . . . And we,

their miserable descendants, roaming over the earth, without faith, without pride, without enjoyment, and

without terror except that involuntary awe which makes the heart shrink at the thought of the inevitable

end we are no longer capable of great sacrifices, either for the good of mankind or even for our own

happiness, because we know the impossibility of such happiness; and, just as our ancestors used to fling

themselves from one delusion to another, we pass indifferently from doubt to doubt, without possessing, as

they did, either hope or even that vague though, at the same time, keen enjoyment which the soul encounters

These and many other similar thoughts passed through my mind, but I did not follow them up, because I do

not like to dwell upon abstract ideas for what do they lead to? In my early youth I was a dreamer; I loved

to hug to my bosom the images now gloomy, now rainbow hued which my restless and eager

imagination drew for me. And what is there left to me of all these? Only such weariness as might be felt after

a battle by night with a phantom only a con fused memory full of regrets. In that vain contest I have

exhausted the warmth of soul and firmness of will indispensable to an active life. I have entered upon that life

after having already lived through it in thought, and it has become wearisome and nauseous to me, as the

reading of a bad imitation of a book is to one who has long been familiar with the original.

The events of that evening produced a some what deep impression upon me and excited my nerves. I do not

know for certain whether I now believe in predestination or not, but on that evening I believed in it firmly.

The proof was startling, and I, notwithstanding that I had laughed at our forefathers and their obliging

astrology, fell involuntarily into their way of thinking. However, I stopped myself in time from following that

dangerous road, and, as I have made it a rule not to reject anything decisively and not to trust anything

blindly, I cast meta physics aside and began to look at what was beneath my feet. The precaution was

welltimed. I only just escaped stumbling over something thick and soft, but, to all appearance, inanimate. I

bent down to see what it was, and, by the light of the moon, which now shone right upon the road, I perceived

that it was a pig which had been cut in two with a sabre. . . I had hardly time to examine it before I heard the

sound of steps, and two Cossacks came running out of a byway. One of them came up to me and enquired

whether I had seen a drunken Cossack chasing a pig. I informed him that I had not met the Cossack and

"The scoundrel!" said the second Cossack. "No sooner does he drink his fill of chikhir[1] than off he goes and

cuts up anything that comes in his way. Let us be after him, Eremeich, we must tie him up or else" . . .

They took themselves off, and I continued my way with greater caution, and at length arrived at my lodgings

I was living with a certain old Cossack under officer whom I loved, not only on account of his kindly

disposition, but also, and more especially, on account of his pretty daughter, Nastya.

Wrapped up in a sheepskin coat she was waiting for me, as usual, by the wicket gate. The moon illumined her

charming little lips, now turned blue by the cold of the night. Recognizing me she smiled; but I was in no

I fastened the door of my room after me, lighted a candle, and threw myself on the bed; but, on that occasion,

slumber caused its presence to be awaited longer than usual. By the time I fell asleep the east was beginning

to grow pale, but I was evidently predestined not to have my sleep out. At four o'clock in the morning two

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

We set off. They told me all that had hap pened, supplementing their story with a variety of observations on

the subject of the strange predestination which had saved Vulich from imminent death half an hour before he

Vulich had been walking alone along a dark street, and the drunken Cossack who had cut up the pig had

sprung out upon him, and perhaps would have passed him by without noticing him, had not Vulich stopped

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

The two Cossacks who had met me and followed the murderer had arrived on the scene and raised the

wounded man from the ground. But he was already as his last gasp and said these three words only "he

I alone understood the dark significance of those words: they referred to me. I had involuntarily foretold his

fate to poor Vulich. My instinct had not deceived me; I had indeed read on his changed countenance the signs

The murderer had locked himself up in an empty hut at the end of the village; and thither we went. A number

of women, all of them weeping, were running in the same direction; at times a belated Cossack, hastily

buckling on his dagger, sprang out into the street and overtook us at a run. The tumult was dreadful.

At length we arrived on the scene and found a crowd standing around the hut, the door and shutters of which

were locked on the inside. Groups of officers and Cossacks were engaged in heated discussions; the women

were shrieking, wailing and talking all in one breath. One of the old women struck my attention by her

meaning looks and the frantic despair expressed upon her face. She was sitting on a thick plank, leaning her

elbows on her knees and supporting her head with her hands. It was the mother of the murderer. At times her

Meanwhile it was necessary to decide upon some course of action and to seize the criminal. Nobody,

I went up to the window and looked in through a chink in the shutter. The criminal, pale of face, was lying on

the floor, holding a pistol in his right hand. The bloodstained sabre was beside him. His expressive eyes

were rolling in terror; at times he shuddered and clutched at his head, as if indistinctly recalling the events of

yesterday. I could not read any sign of great determination in that uneasy glance of his, and I told the major

that it would be better at once to give orders to the Cossacks to burst open the door and rush in, than to wait

At that moment the old captain of the Cossacks went up to the door and called the murderer by name. The

"You have committed a sin, brother Ephi mych!" said the captain, "so all you can do now is to submit."

"Have you no fear of God! You see, you are not one of those cursed Chechenes, but an honest Christian!

Come, if you have done it in an unguarded moment there is no help for it! You cannot escape your fate!"

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

"Hey, my good woman!" said the Cossack captain to the old woman. "Say a word to your son perhaps he

will lend an ear to you. . . You see, to go on like this is only to make God angry. And look, the gentlemen

"Vasili Petrovich," said the captain, going up to the major; "he will not surrender. I know him! If it comes to

smashing in the door he will strike down several of our men. Would it not be better if you ordered him to be

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

Bidding the captain enter into a conversation with the murderer and setting three Cossacks at the door ready

to force it open and rush to my aid at a given signal, I walked round the hut and approached the fatal window.

"Aha, you cursed wretch!" cried the captain. "Are you laughing at us, eh? Or do you think that we won't be

He began to knock at the door with all his might. Putting my eye to the chink, I followed the movements of

the Cossack, who was not expecting an attack from that direction. I pulled the shutter away suddenly and

threw myself in at the window, head foremost. A shot rang out right over my ear, and the bullet tore off one

of my epaulettes. But the smoke which filled the room prevented my adversary from finding the sabre which

was lying beside him. I seized him by the arms; the Cossacks burst in; and three minutes had not elapsed

The people dispersed, the officers congratulated me and indeed there was cause for congratula tion.

After all that, it would hardly seem possible to avoid becoming a fatalist? But who knows for certain whether

he is convinced of anything or not? And how often is a deception of the senses or an error of the reason

accepted as a conviction! . . . I prefer to doubt everything. Such a disposition is no bar to decision of

character; on the contrary, so far as I am concerned, I always advance more boldly when I do not know what

is awaiting me. You see, nothing can happen worse than death and from death there is no escape.

On my return to the fortress I related to Maksim Maksimych all that I had seen and experienced; and I sought

At first he did not understand the word. I explained it to him as well as I could, and then he said, with a

"Yes, sir, of course! It was a very ingenious trick! However, these Asiatic pistols often miss fire if they are

badly oiled or if you don't press hard enough on the trigger. I confess I don't like the Circassian carbines

either. Some how or other they don't suit the like of us: the butt end is so small, and any minute you may get

your nose burnt! On the other hand, their sabres, now well, all I need say is, my best respects to them!"

"Yes, it is a pity about the poor fellow! The devil must have put it into his head to start a conversation with a

drunken man at night! However, it is evident that fate had written it so at his birth!"

I could not get anything more out of Maksim Maksimych; generally speaking, he had no liking for

YESTERDAY I arrived at Pyatigorsk. I have engaged lodgings at the extreme end of the town, the highest

part, at the foot of Mount Mashuk: during a storm the clouds will descend on to the roof of my dwelling.

This morning at five o'clock, when I opened my window, the room was filled with the fra grance of the

flowers growing in the modest little frontgarden. Branches of bloomladen bird cherry trees peep in at my

window, and now and again the breeze bestrews my writingtable with their white petals. The view which

meets my gaze on three sides is wonderful: westward towers fivepeaked Beshtau, blue as "the last cloud of a

dispersed storm,"[1] and northward rises Mashuk, like a shaggy Persian cap, shutting in the whole of that

quarter of the horizon. Eastward the outlook is more cheery: down below are dis played the varied hues of

the brandnew, spotlessly clean, little town, with its murmuring, health giving springs and its babbling,

manytongued throng. Yonder, further away, the mountains tower up in an amphitheatre, ever bluer and

mistier; and, at the edge of the horizon, stretches the silver chain of snowclad summits, begin ning with

Kazbek and ending with twopeaked Elbruz. . . Blithe is life in such a land! A feeling akin to rapture is

diffused through all my veins. The air is pure and fresh, like the kiss of a child; the sun is bright, the sky is

blue what more could one possibly wish for? What need, in such a place as this, of passions, desires,

[1] Pushkin. Compare Shelley's Adonais, xxxi. 3: "as the last cloud of an expiring storm."

However, it is time to be stirring. I will go to the Elizaveta spring I am told that the whole society of the

Descending into the middle of the town, I walked along the boulevard, on which I met a few melancholy

groups slowly ascending the moun tain. These, for the most part, were the families of landedgentry from

the steppes as could be guessed at once from the threadbare, old fashioned frockcoats of the husbands

and the exquisite attire of the wives and daughters. Evidently they already had all the young men of the

wateringplace at their fingers' ends, because they looked at me with a tender curiosity. The Petersburg cut of

my coat misled them; but they soon recognised the military epaulettes, and turned away with indignation.

The wives of the local authorities the host esses, so to speak, of the waters were more graciously

inclined. They carry lorgnettes, and they pay less attention to a uniform they have grown accustomed in

the Caucasus to meeting a fervid heart beneath a numbered button and a cultured intellect beneath a white

foragecap. These ladies are very charming, and long continue to be charming. Each year their adorers are

exchanged for new ones, and in that very fact, it may be, lies the secret of their unwearying amiability.

Ascending by the narrow path to the Elizaveta spring, I overtook a crowd of officials and military men, who,

as I subsequently learned, compose a class apart amongst those who place their hopes in the medicinal

waters. They drink but not water take but few walks, indulge in only mild flirtations, gamble, and

They are dandies. In letting their wicker sheathed tumblers down into the well of sulphur ous water they

assume academical poses. The officials wear bright blue cravats; the military men have ruffs sticking out

above their collars. They affect a profound contempt for provincial ladies, and sigh for the aristocratic

Here is the well at last! . . . Upon the small square adjoining it a little house with a red roof over the bath is

erected, and somewhat further on there is a gallery in which the people walk when it rains. Some wounded

officers were sitting pale and melancholy on a bench, with their crutches drawn up. A few ladies, their

tumbler of water finished, were walking with rapid steps to and fro about the square. There were two or three

pretty faces amongst them. Beneath the avenues of the vines with which the slope of Mashuk is covered,

occasional glimpses could be caught of the gaycoloured hat of a lover of solitude for two for beside that

hat I always noticed either a military foragecap or the ugly round hat of a civilian. Upon the steep cliff,

where the pavilion called "The Aeolian Harp" is erected, figured the lovers of scenery, directing their

telescopes upon Elbruz. Amongst them were a couple of tutors, with their pupils who had come to be cured of

Out of breath, I came to a standstill at the edge of the mountain, and, leaning against the corner of a little

house, I began to examine the picturesque surroundings, when suddenly I heard behind me a familiar voice.

I turned round. Grushnitski! We embraced. I had made his acquaintance in the active service detachment. He

had been wounded in the foot by a bullet and had come to the waters a week or so before me.

Grushnitski is a cadet; he has only been a year in the service. From a kind of foppery peculiar to himself, he

wears the thick cloak of a common soldier. He has also the soldier's cross of St. George. He is well built,

swarthy and black haired. To look at him, you might say he was a man of twentyfive, although he is

scarcely twentyone. He tosses his head when he speaks, and keeps continually twirling his moustache with

his left hand, his right hand being occupied with the crutch on which he leans. He speaks rapidly and

affectedly; he is one of those people who have a highsounding phrase ready for every occasion in life, who

remain untouched by simple beauty, and who drape themselves majestically in extraordinary sentiments,

exalted passions and exceptional sufferings. To produce an effect is their delight; they have an almost

insensate fondness for romantic provincial ladies. When old age approaches they become either peaceful

landedgentry or drunkards sometimes both. Frequently they have many good qualities, but they have not

a grain of poetry in their com position. Grushnitski's passion was declamation. He would deluge you with

words so soon as the conversation went beyond the sphere of ordinary ideas. I have never been able to

dispute with him. He neither answers your questions nor listens to you. So soon as you stop, he begins a

lengthy tirade, which has the appearance of being in some sort connected with what you have been saying,

He is witty enough; his epigrams are fre quently amusing, but never malicious, nor to the point. He slays

nobody with a single word; he has no knowledge of men and of their foibles, because all his life he has been

interested in nobody but himself. His aim is to make himself the hero of a novel. He has so often endeavoured

to convince others that he is a being created not for this world and doomed to certain mysterious sufferings,

that he has almost convinced himself that such he is in reality. Hence the pride with which he wears his thick

soldier's cloak. I have seen through him, and he dislikes me for that reason, although to outward appearance

we are on the friendliest of terms. Grushnitski is looked upon as a man of distinguished courage. I have seen

him in action. He waves his sabre, shouts, and hurls himself forward with his eyes shut. That is not what I

I reciprocate Grushnitski's dislike. I feel that some time or other we shall come into collision upon a narrow

His arrival in the Caucasus is also the result of his romantic fanaticism. I am convinced that on the eve of his

departure from his paternal village he said with an air of gloom to some pretty neighbour that he was going

away, not so much for the simple purpose of serving in the army as of seeking death, because . . . and

hereupon, I am sure, he covered his eyes with his hand and continued thus, "No, you or thou must not

know! Your pure soul would shudder! And what would be the good? What am I to you? Could you

He has himself told me that the motive which induced him to enter the K regiment must remain an

However, in moments when he casts aside the tragic mantle, Grushnitski is charming and entertaining

enough. I am always interested to see him with women it is then that he puts forth his finest efforts, I

We met like a couple of old friends. I began to question him about the personages of note and as to the sort of

"It is a rather prosaic life," he said, with a sigh. "Those who drink the waters in the morning are inert like

all invalids, and those who drink the wines in the evening are unendurable like all healthy people! There

are ladies who entertain, but there is no great amusement to be obtained from them. They play whist, they

dress badly and speak French dreadfully! The only Moscow people here this year are Princess Ligovski and

her daughter but I am not acquainted with them. My soldier's cloak is like a seal of renunciation. The

At that moment two ladies walked past us in the direction of the well; one elderly, the other youthful and

slender. I could not obtain a good view of their faces on account of their hats, but they were dressed in

accordance with the strict rules of the best taste nothing superfluous. The second lady was wearing a

highnecked dress of pearlgrey, and a light silk kerchief was wound round her supple neck. Pucecoloured

boots clasped her slim little ankle so charmingly, that even those uninitiated into the mysteries of beauty

would infallibly have sighed, if only from wonder. There was something maidenly in her easy, but

aristocratic gait, something eluding definition yet intelligible to the glance. As she walked past us an

indefinable perfume, like that which sometimes breathes from the note of a charming woman, was wafted

"Look!" said Grushnitski, "there is Princess Ligovski with her daughter Mary, as she calls her after the

"Yes, I heard it by chance," he answered, with a blush. "I confess I do not desire to make their acquaintance.

These haughty aristocrats look upon us army men just as they would upon savages. What care they if there is

"Poor cloak!" I said, with a laugh. "But who is the gentleman who is just going up to them and handing them

"Oh, that is Raevich, the Moscow dandy. He is a gambler; you can see as much at once from that immense

gold chain coiling across his sky blue waistcoat. And what a thick cane he has! Just like Robinson Crusoe's

At that moment the ladies left the well and came up to where we were. Grushnitski suc ceeded in assuming

a dramatic pose with the aid of his crutch, and in a loud tone of voice answered me in French:

"Mon cher, je hais les hommes pour ne pas les mepriser, car autrement la vie serait une farce trop

The pretty Princess Mary turned round and favoured the orator with a long and curious glance. Her

expression was quite indefinite, but it was not contemptuous, a fact on which I inwardly congratulated

"She is an extremely pretty girl," I said. "She has such velvet eyes yes, velvet is the word. I should advise

you to appropriate the expression when speaking of her eyes. The lower and upper lashes are so long that the

sunbeams are not reflected in her pupils. I love those eyes without a glitter, they are so soft that they appear to

caress you. However, her eyes seem to be her only good feature. . . Tell me, are her teeth white? That is most

important! It is a pity that she did not smile at that highsounding phrase of yours."

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

"Mon cher," I answered, trying to mimic his tone, "je meprise les femmes, pour ne pas les aimer, car

I turned and left him. For half an hour or so I walked about the avenues of the vines, the limestone cliffs and

the bushes hanging between them. The day grew hot, and I hurried home wards. Passing the sulphur spring,

I stopped at the covered gallery in order to regain my breath under its shade, and by so doing I was afforded

the opportunity of witnessing a rather interesting scene. This is the position in which the dramatis personae

were disposed: Princess Ligovski and the Moscow dandy were sitting on a bench in the covered gallery

apparently engaged in serious conversation. Princess Mary, who had doubtless by this time finished her last

tumbler, was walking pensively to and fro by the well. Grushnitski was standing by the well itself; there was

I went up closer and concealed myself behind a corner of the gallery. At that moment Grush nitski let his

tumbler fall on the sand and made strenuous efforts to stoop in order to pick it up; but his injured foot

prevented him. Poor fellow! How he tried all kinds of artifices, as he leaned on his crutch, and all in vain! His

Lighter than a bird she sprang towards him, stooped, picked up the tumbler, and handed it to him with a

gesture full of ineffable charm. Then she blushed furiously, glanced round at the gallery, and, having assured

herself that her mother apparently had not seen anything, im mediately regained her composure. By the time

Grushnitski had opened his mouth to thank her she was a long way off. A moment after, she came out of the

gallery with her mother and the dandy, but, in passing by Grushnitski, she assumed a most decorous and

serious air. She did not even turn round, she did not even observe the passionate gaze which he kept fixed

upon her for a long time until she had descended the mountain and was hidden behind the lime trees of the

boulevard. . . Presently I caught glimpses of her hat as she walked along the street. She hurried through the

gate of one of the best houses in Pyatigorsk; her mother walked behind her and bowed adieu to Raevich at the

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

"No. I saw her picking up your tumbler. If there had been an attendant there he would have done the same

thing and quicker too, in the hope of receiving a tip. It is quite easy, however, to understand that she pitied

"And can it be that seeing her, as you did, at that moment when her soul was shining in her eyes, you were

I was lying, but I wanted to exasperate him. I have an innate passion for contradiction my whole life has

been nothing but a series of melan choly and vain contradictions of heart or reason. The presence of an

enthusiast chills me with a twelfthnight cold, and I believe that constant association with a person of a

flaccid and phleg matic temperament would have turned me into an impassioned visionary. I confess, too,

that an unpleasant but familiar sensation was coursing lightly through my heart at that moment. It was

envy. I say "envy" boldly, because I am accustomed to acknowledge everything to myself. It would be hard

to find a young man who, if his idle fancy had been attracted by a pretty woman and he had suddenly found

her openly singling out before his eyes another man equally unknown to her it would be hard, I say, to

find such a young man (living, of course, in the great world and accustomed to indulge his selflove) who

In silence Grushnitski and I descended the mountain and walked along the boulevard, past the windows of the

house where our beauty had hidden herself. She was sitting by the window. Grushnitski, plucking me by the

arm, cast upon her one of those gloomily tender glances which have so little effect upon women. I directed

my lorgnette at her, and observed that she smiled at his glance and that my insolent lorgnette made her

downright angry. And how, indeed, should a Caucasian military man presume to direct his eyeglass at a

THIS morning the doctor came to see me. His name is Werner, but he is a Russian. What is there surprising

Werner is a remarkable man, and that for many reasons. Like almost all medical men he is a sceptic and a

materialist, but, at the same time, he is a genuine poet a poet always in deeds and often in words, although

he has never written two verses in his life. He has mastered all the living chords of the human heart, just as

one learns the veins of a corpse, but he has never known how to avail himself of his knowledge. In like

manner, it sometimes happens that an excellent anatomist does not know how to cure a fever. Werner usually

made fun of his patients in private; but once I saw him weeping over a dying soldier. . . He was poor, and

dreamed of millions, but he would not take a single step out of his way for the sake of money. He once told

me that he would rather do a favour to an enemy than to a friend, because, in the latter case, it would mean

selling his beneficence, whilst hatred only increases proportionately to the magnanimity of the adversary. He

had a malicious tongue; and more than one good, simple soul has acquired the reputation of a vulgar fool

through being labelled with one of his epigrams. His rivals, envious medical men of the wateringplace,

spread the report that he was in the habit of drawing caricatures of his patients. The patients were incensed,

and almost all of them discarded him. His friends, that is to say all the genuinely wellbred people who were

His outward appearance was of the type which, at the first glance, creates an unpleasant impres sion, but

which you get to like in course of time, when the eye learns to read in the ir regular features the stamp of a

tried and lofty soul. Instances have been known of women falling madly in love with men of that sort, and

having no desire to exchange their ugliness for the beauty of the freshest and rosiest of Endymions. We must

give women their due: they possess an instinct for spiritual beauty, for which reason, possibly, men such as

Werner was small and lean and as weak as a baby. One of his legs was shorter than the other, as was the case

with Byron. In comparison with his body, his head seemed enormous. His hair was cropped close, and the

unevennesses of his cranium, thus laid bare, would have struck a phrenologist by reason of the strange

intertexture of con tradictory propensities. His little, ever restless, black eyes seemed as if they were

endeavouring to fathom your thoughts. Taste and neatness were to be observed in his dress. His small, lean,

sinewy hands flaunted themselves in brightyellow gloves. His frockcoat, cravat and waistcoat were

invariably of black. The young men dubbed him Mephistopheles; he pretended to be angry at the nickname,

but in reality it flattered his vanity. Werner and I soon understood each other and became friends, because I,

for my part, am ill adapted for friendship. Of two friends, one is always the slave of the other, although

frequently neither acknowledges the fact to himself. Now, the slave I could not be; and to be the master

would be a wearisome trouble, because, at the same time, deception would be required. Besides, I have

Our friendship originated in the following circumstances. I met Werner at S, in the midst of a numerous

and noisy circle of young people. Towards the end of the evening the conversation took a

philosophicometaphysical turn. We discussed the subject of convictions, and each of us had some different

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

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

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

"I am better off than you," I said. "In addi tion to that, I have a further conviction, namely, that, one very

All the others considered that we were talking nonsense, but indeed not one of them said any thing more

sensible. From that moment we singled each other out amongst the crowd. We used frequently to meet and

discuss abstract subjects in a very serious manner, until each observed that the other was throwing dust in his

eyes. Then, looking significantly at each other as, according to Cicero, the Roman augurs used to do

we would burst out laughing heartily and, having had our laugh, we would separate, well content with our

I was lying on a couch, my eyes fixed upon the ceiling and my hands clasped behind my head, when Werner

entered my room. He sat down in an easy chair, placed his cane in a corner, yawned, and announced that it

was getting hot out of doors. I replied that the flies were bothering me and we both fell silent.

"Observe, my dear doctor," I said, "that, but for fools, the world would be a very dull place. Look! Here are

you and I, both sensible men! We know beforehand that it is possible to dispute ad infinitum about

everything and so we do not dispute. Each of us knows almost all the other's secret thoughts: to us a single

word is a whole history; we see the grain of every one of our feelings through a threefold husk. What is sad,

we laugh at; what is laughable, we grieve at; but, to tell the truth, we are fairly indifferent, generally

speaking, to everything except our selves. Consequently, there can be no inter change of feelings and

thoughts between us; each of us knows all he cares to know about the other, and that knowledge is all he

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

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

"You are anxious for information about some of the newcomers here, and I can guess who it is, because

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

"Here it is: I wanted to make you relate something, for the following reasons: firstly, listening is less

fatiguing than talking; secondly, the listener cannot commit himself; thirdly, he can learn another's secret;

fourthly, sensible people, such as you, prefer listeners to speakers. Now to business; what did Princess

"You are quite sure that it was Princess Ligovski . . . and not Princess Mary?" . . .

"You are gifted with a fine imagination! Princess Mary said that she was convinced that the young man in the

"A plot!" I exclaimed in rapture. "We will make it our business to see to the denouement of this little comedy.

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

"Princess Ligovski said that your face was familiar to her. I observed that she had probably met you in

Petersburg somewhere in society. . . I told her your name. She knew it well. It appears that your history

created a great stir there. . . She began to tell us of your adventures, most likely supplementing the gossip of

society with observations of her own. . . Her daughter listened with curiosity. In her imagination you have

be come the hero of a novel in a new style. . . I did not contradict Princess Ligovski, although I knew that

"Good heavens!" I said, clapping my hands. "Are heroes ever presented? In no other way do they make the

"Not at all, far from it! . . . Doctor, I triumph at last! You do not understand me! . . . It vexes me, however," I

continued after a moment's silence. "I never reveal my secrets myself, but I am exceedingly fond of their

being guessed, because in that way I can always disavow them upon occasion. However, you must describe

"In the first place, Princess Ligovski is a woman of fortyfive," answered Werner. "She has a splendid

digestion, but her blood is out of order there are red spots on her cheeks. She has spent the latter half of

her life in Moscow, and has grown stout from leading an inactive life there. She loves spicy stories, and

sometimes says improper things herself when her daughter is out of the room. She has declared to me that her

daughter is as innocent as a dove. What does that matter to me? . . . I was going to answer that she might be at

her ease, because I would never tell anyone. Princess Ligovski is taking the cure for her rheumatism, and the

daughter, for goodness knows what. I have ordered each of them to drink two tumblers a day of sulphurous

water, and to bathe twice a week in the diluted bath. Princess Ligovski is apparently unac customed to

giving orders. She cherishes respect for the intelligence and attainments of her daughter, who has read Byron

in English and knows algebra: in Moscow, evidently, the ladies have entered upon the paths of erudition

and a good thing, too! The men here are generally so unamiable, that, for a clever woman, it must be

intolerable to flirt with them. Princess Ligovski is very fond of young people; Princess Mary looks on them

with a certain contempt a Moscow habit! In Moscow they cherish only wits of not less than forty."

"But I think I have told everything. . . No, there is something else: Princess Mary, it seems, loves to discuss

emotions, passions, etcetera. She was in Petersburg for one winter, and disliked it especially the society:

"On the contrary, there was an aidedecamp, a stiff guardsman, and a lady one of the latest arrivals, a

relation of Princess Ligovski on the husband's side very pretty, but apparently very ill. . . Have you not

met her at the well? She is of medium height, fair, with regular features; she has the complexion of a con

sumptive, and there is a little black mole on her right cheek. I was struck by the expressiveness of her face."

"It is your turn, now, to triumph," I said. "But I rely on you: you will not betray me. I have not seen her yet,

but I am convinced that I recognise from your portrait a woman whom I loved in the old days. . . Do not

speak a word to her about me; if she asks any questions, give a bad report of me."

When he had departed, my heart was com pressed with terrible grief. Has destiny brought us together again

in the Caucasus, or has she come hither on purpose, knowing that she would meet me? . . . And how shall we

meet? . . . And then, is it she? . . . My presentiments have never deceived me. There is not a man in the world

over whom the past has acquired such a power as over me. Every recollection of bygone grief or joy strikes

my soul with morbid effect, and draws forth ever the same sounds. . . I am stupidly constituted: I forget

After dinner, about six o'clock, I went on to the boulevard. It was crowded. The two princesses were sitting

on a bench, surrounded by young men, who were vying with each other in paying them attention. I took up

my position on another bench at a little distance off, stopped two Dragoon officers whom I knew, and

proceeded to tell them something. Evidently it was amusing, because they began to laugh loudly like a couple

of mad men. Some of those who were surrounding Princess Mary were attracted to my side by curiosity,

and gradually all of them left her and joined my circle. I did not stop talking; my anecdotes were clever to the

point of absurdity, my jests at the expense of the queer people passing by, malicious to the point of frenzy. I

continued to entertain the public till sunset. Princess Mary passed by me a few times, armin arm with her

mother, and accompanied by a certain lame old man. A few times her glance as it fell upon me expressed

"What has he been telling you?" she in quired of one of the young men, who had gone back to her out of

politeness. "No doubt a most interesting story his own exploits in battle?" . . .

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

Grushnitski kept following her like a beast of prey, and would not let her out of his sight. I wager that

tomorrow he will ask somebody to present him to Princess Ligovski. She will be glad, because she is bored.

IN the course of two days my affairs have gained ground tremendously. Princess Mary positively hates me.

Already I have had repeated to me two or three epigrams on the subject of myself rather caustic, but at the

same time very flattering. She finds it exceedingly strange that I, who am accustomed to good society, and

am so intimate with her Petersburg cousins and aunts, do not try to make her acquaintance. Every day we

meet at the well and on the boule vard. I exert all my powers to entice away her adorers, glittering

aidesdecamp, palefaced visitors from Moscow, and others and I almost always succeed. I have always

hated entertaining guests: now my house is full every day; they dine, sup, gamble, and alas! my champagne

I met her yesterday in Chelakhov's shop. She was bargaining for a marvellous Persian rug, and implored her

mother not to be niggardly: the rug would be such an ornament to her boudoir. . . I outbid her by forty rubles,

and bought it over her head. I was rewarded with a glance in which the most delightful fury sparkled. About

dinner time, I ordered my Circassian horse, covered with that very rug, purposely to be led past her

windows. Werner was with the princesses at the time, and told me that the effect of the scene was most

dramatic. Princess Mary wishes to preach a crusade against me, and I have even noticed that, already, two of

the aidesdecamp salute me very coldly, when they are in her pre sence they dine with me every day,

Grushnitski has assumed an air of mystery; he walks with his arms folded behind his back and does not

recognise anyone. His foot has got well all at once, and there is hardly a sign of a limp. He has found an

opportunity of entering into conversation with Princess Ligovski and of paying Princess Mary some kind of a

compliment. The latter is evidently not very fastidious, for, ever since, she answers his bow with a most

"Are you sure you do not wish to make the Ligovskis' acquaintance?" he said to me yester day.

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

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

"Not yet. I have spoken to Princess Mary once or twice, but that is all. You know it is rather awkward to go

and visit them without being invited, although that is the custom here. . . It would be a different matter if I

"Good heavens! Why, you are much more interesting as it is! You simply do not know how to avail yourself

of your advantageous position. . . Why, that soldier's cloak makes a hero and a martyr of you in the eyes of

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

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

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

"But I have no pretensions whatsoever to pleasing her. I simply wish to make the ac quaintance of an

agreeable household; and it would be extremely ridiculous if I were to cherish the slightest hope. . . With you,

now, for instance, it is a different matter! You Petersburg con querors! You have but to look and women

"Do not rejoice too soon, though. The other day, by chance, I entered into conversation with her at the well;

her third word was, 'Who is that gentleman with such an unpleasant, heavy glance? He was with you when' . .

. she blushed, and did not like to mention the day, remembering her own delightful little exploit. 'You need

not tell me what day it was,' I answered; 'it will ever be present to my memory!' . . . Pechorin, my friend, I

cannot congratulate you, you are in her black books. . . And, indeed, it is a pity, because Mary is a charming

It must be observed that Grushnitski is one of those men who, in speaking of a woman with whom they are

barely acquainted, call her my Mary, my Sophie, if she has had the good fortune to please them.

"Yes, she is goodlooking. . . Only be care ful, Grushnitski! Russian ladies, for the most part, cherish only

Platonic love, without mingling any thought of matrimony with it; and Platonic love is exceedingly

embarrassing. Princess Mary seems to be one of those women who want to be amused. If she is bored in your

company for two minutes on end you are lost irrevocably. Your silence ought to excite her curiosity, your

con versation ought never to satisfy it completely; you should alarm her every minute; ten times, in public,

she will slight people's opinion for you and will call that a sacrifice, and, in order to requite herself for it, she

will torment you. Afterwards she will simply say that she cannot endure you. If you do not acquire authority

over her, even her first kiss will not give you the right to a second. She will flirt with you to her heart's

content, and, in two years' time, she will marry a monster, in obedience to her mother, and will assure herself

that she is unhappy, that she has loved only one man that is to say, you but that Heaven was not

willing to unite her to him because he wore a soldier's cloak, although beneath that thick, grey cloak beat a

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

I laughed inwardly and even smiled once or twice, but fortunately he did not notice. It is evident that he is in

love, because he has grown even more confiding than heretofore. Moreover, a ring has made its appearance

on his finger, a silver ring with black enamel of local workman ship. It struck me as suspicious. . . I began to

examine it, and what do you think I saw? The name Mary was engraved on the inside in small letters, and in a

line with the name was the date on which she had picked up the famous tumbler. I kept my discovery a secret.

I do not want to force confessions from him, I want him, of his own accord, to choose me as his confidant

Today I rose late. I went to the well. I found nobody there. The day grew hot. White, shaggy cloudlets were

flitting rapidly from the snowclad mountains, giving promise of a thunder storm; the summit of Mount

Mashuk was smoking like a just extinguished torch; grey wisps of cloud were coiling and creeping like

snakes around it, arrested in their rapid sweep and, as it were, hooked to its prickly brushwood. The

atmosphere was charged with electricity. I plunged into the avenue of the vines leading to the grotto.

I felt lowspirited. I was thinking of the lady with the little mole on her cheek, of whom the doctor had

spoken to me. . . "Why is she here?" I thought. "And is it she? And what reason have I for thinking it is? And

why am I so certain of it? Is there not many a woman with a mole on her cheek?" Reflecting in such wise I

came right up to the grotto. I looked in and I saw that a woman, wearing a straw hat and wrapped in a black

shawl, was sitting on a stone seat in the cold shade of the arch. Her head was sunk upon her breast, and the

hat covered her face. I was just about to turn back, in order not to disturb her meditations, when she glanced

I sat down beside her and took her hand. A longforgotten tremor ran through my veins at the sound of that

dear voice. She gazed into my face with her deep, calm eyes. Mistrust and something in the nature of

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

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

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

"Tell me," she whispered at length, "do you find it very amusing to torture me? I ought to hate you. Since we

"Perhaps," I reflected, "it is for that very reason that you have loved me; joys are forgotten, but sorrows

I clasped her closely to my breast, and so we remained for a long time. At length our lips drew closer and

became blent in a fervent, intoxicating kiss. Her hands were cold as ice; her head was burning.

And hereupon we embarked upon one of those conversations which, on paper, have no sense, which it is

impossible to repeat, and impossible even to retain in memory. The meaning of the sounds replaces and

She is decidedly averse to my making the acquaintance of her husband, the lame old man of whom I had

caught a glimpse on the boulevard. She married him for the sake of her son. He is rich, and suffers from

attacks of rheumatism. I did not allow myself even a single scoff at his expense. She respects him as a father,

and will deceive him as a husband. . . A strange thing, the human heart in general, and woman's heart in

Vera's husband, Semyon Vasilevich Gv, is a distant relation of Princess Ligovski. He lives next door to

her. Vera frequently visits the Princess. I have given her my promise to make the Ligovskis' acquaintance,

and to pay court to Princess Mary in order to distract attention from Vera. In such way, my plans have been

Amusing! . . . Yes, I have already passed that period of spiritual life when happiness alone is sought, when

the heart feels the urgent necessity of violently and passionately loving somebody. Now my only wish is to

be loved, and that by very few. I even think that I would be content with one constant attachment. A wretched

One thing has always struck me as strange. I have never made myself the slave of the woman I have loved.

On the contrary, I have always acquired an invincible power over her will and heart, without in the least

endeavouring to do so. Why is this? Is it because I never esteem any thing highly, and she has been

continually afraid to let me out of her hands? Or is it the magnetic influence of a powerful organism? Or is it,

I must confess that, in fact, I do not love women who possess strength of character. What business have they

Indeed, I remember now. Once and once only did I love a woman who had a firm will which I was never able

to vanquish. . . We parted as enemies and then, perhaps, if I had met her five years later we would have

Vera is ill, very ill, although she does not admit it. I fear she has consumption, or that disease which is called

"fievre lente" a quite un Russian 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 hour longer. Vera did not make me swear

fidelity, or ask whether I had loved others since we had parted. . . She trusted in me anew with all her former

unconcern, and I will not deceive her: she is the only woman in the world whom it would never be within my

power to deceive. I know that we shall soon have to part again, and perchance for ever. We will both go by

different ways to the grave, but her memory will remain inviolable within my soul. I have always repeated

At length we separated. For a long time I followed her with my eyes, until her hat was hidden behind the

shrubs and rocks. My heart was painfully contracted, just as after our first parting. Oh, how I rejoiced in that

emotion! Can it be that youth is about to come back to me, with its salutary tempests, or is this only the fare

well glance, the last gift in memory of itself? . . . And to think that, in appearance, I am still a boy! My

face, though pale, is still fresh; my limbs are supple and slender; my hair is thick and curly, my eyes sparkle,

Returning home, I mounted on horseback and galloped to the steppe. I love to gallop on a fiery horse through

the tall grass, in the face of the desert wind; greedily I gulp down the fragrant air and fix my gaze upon the

blue distance, endeavouring to seize the misty outlines of objects which every minute grow clearer and

clearer. Whatever griefs oppress my heart, whatever disquietudes torture my thoughts all are dispersed in

a moment; my soul becomes at ease; the fatigue of the body vanquishes the disturbance of the mind. There is

not a woman's glance which I would not forget at the sight of the tufted mountains, illumined by the southern

sun; at the sight of the darkblue sky, or in hearkening to the roar of the torrent as it falls from cliff to cliff.

I believe that the Cossacks, yawning on their watchtowers, when they saw me galloping thus needlessly and

aimlessly, were long tormented by that enigma, because from my dress, I am sure, they took me to be a

Circassian. I have, in fact, been told that when riding on horseback, in my Circassian costume, I resemble a

Kabardian more than many a Kabardian himself. And, indeed, so far as regards that noble, warlike garb, I am

a perfect dandy. I have not a single piece of gold lace too much; my weapon is costly, but simply wrought;

the fur on my cap is neither too long nor too short; my leggings and shoes are matched with all possible

accuracy; my tunic is white; my Circassian jacket, darkbrown. I have long studied the mountaineer seat on

horseback, and in no way is it possible to flatter my vanity so much as by acknowledging my skill in

horsemanship in the Cossack mode. I keep four horses one for myself and three for my friends, so that I

may not be bored by having to roam about the fields all alone; they take my horses with pleasure, and never

It was already six o'clock in the evening, when I remembered that it was time to dine. My horse was jaded. I

rode out on to the road leading from Pyatigorsk to the German colony, to which the society of the

wateringplace frequently rides en piquenique. The road meanders between bushes and descends into little

ravines, through which flow noisy brooks beneath the shade of tall grasses. All around, in an amphitheatre,

rise the blue masses of Mount Beshtau and the Zmeiny, Zhelezny and Lysy Mountains.[1] Descending into

one of those ravines, I halted to water my horse. At that moment a noisy and glittering cavalcade made its

appearance upon the road the ladies in black and darkblue riding habits, the cavaliers in costumes which

formed a medley of the Circassian and Nizhegorodian.[2] In front rode Grushnitski with Princess Mary.

The ladies at the wateringplace still believe in attacks by Circassians in broad daylight; for that reason,

doubtless, Grushnitski had slung a sabre and a pair of pistols over his soldier's cloak. He looked ridiculous

I was concealed from their sight by a tall bush, but I was able to see everything through the leaves, and to

guess from the expression of their faces that the conversation was of a sentimental turn. At length they

approached the slope; Grushnitski took hold of the bridle of the Princess's horse, and then I heard the

"What is Russia to me?" answered her cavalier. "A country in which thousands of people, because they are

richer than I, will look upon me with contempt, whilst here here this thick cloak has not prevented my

"Here, my life will flow along noisily, un observed, and rapidly, under the bullets of the savages, and if

Heaven were every year to send me a single bright glance from a woman's eyes like that which "

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

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

She grew embarrassed but at what? At her own mistake, or because my answer struck her as insolent? I

should like the latter hypothesis to be correct. Grushnitski cast a discontented glance at me.

Late in the evening, that is to say, about eleven o'clock, I went for a walk in the lilac avenue of the boulevard.

The town was sleeping; lights were gleaming in only a few windows. On three sides loomed the black ridges

of the cliffs, the spurs of Mount Mashuk, upon the summit of which an ominous cloud was lying. The moon

was rising in the east; in the distance, the snowclad moun tains glistened like a fringe of silver. The calls of

the sentries mingled at intervals with the roar of the hot springs let flow for the night. At times the loud

clattering of a horse rang out along the street, accompanied by the creaking of a Nagai wagon and the

I sat down upon a bench and fell into a reverie. . . I felt the necessity of pouring forth my thoughts in friendly

All at once I heard rapid and irregular steps. . . Grushnitski, no doubt! . . . So it was!

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

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

"But, do you know that you have made her terribly angry today? She considered it an un heardof piece of

insolence. It was only with difficulty that I was able to convince her that you are so well bred and know

society so well that you could not have had any intention of insulting her. She says that you have an impudent

"However, it is the worse for you," con tinued Grushnitski; "it will be difficult for you to make their

acquaintance now, and what a pity! It is one of the most agreeable houses I know" . . .

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

"What nonsense! If I like I will be at Princess Ligovski's tomorrow evening!" . . .

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

"I am only awaiting the moment when she will be bored by your conversation. . . Good bye" . . .

"Well, I am going for a stroll; I could not go to sleep now for anything. . . Look here, let us go to the

restaurant instead, there is card playing going on there. . . What I need now is violent sensations" . . .

NEARLY a week has passed, and I have not yet made the Ligovskis' acquaintance. I am awaiting a

convenient opportunity. Grushnitski follows Princess Mary everywhere like a shadow. Their conversations

are interminable; but, when will she be tired of him? . . . Her mother pays no attention, because he is not a

man who is in a position to marry. Behold the logic of mothers! I have caught two or three tender glances

Yesterday, for the first time, Vera made her appearance at the well. . . She has never gone out of doors since

we met in the grotto. We let down our tumblers at the same time, and as she bent forward she whispered to

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

By the way, there is a subscription ball to morrow in the saloon of the restaurant, and I will dance the

THE saloon of the restaurant was converted into the assembly room of a Nobles' Club. The company met at

nine o'clock. Princess Ligovski and her daughter were amongst the latest to make their appearance. Several of

the ladies looked at Princess Mary with envy and malevolence, because she dresses with taste. Those who

look upon themselves as the aris tocracy of the place concealed their envy and attached themselves to her

train. What else could be expected? Wherever there is a gathering of women, the company is immediately

Beneath the window, amongst a crowd of people, stood Grushnitski, pressing his face to the pane and never

taking his eyes off his divinity. As she passed by, she gave him a hardly per ceptible nod. He beamed like

the sun. . . The first dance was a polonaise, after which the musicians struck up a waltz. Spurs began to jingle,

I was standing behind a certain stout lady who was overshadowed by rosecoloured feathers. The

magnificence of her dress reminded me of the times of the farthingale, and the motley hue of her by no means

smooth skin, of the happy epoch of the black taffeta patch. An immense wart on her neck was covered by a

"That young Princess Ligovski is a most intolerable creature! Just fancy, she jostled against me and did not

apologise, but even turned round and stared at me through her lorgn ette! . . . C'est impayable! . . . And what

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

I went up to Princess Mary immediately, and, availing myself of the local customs which allowed one to

She was scarcely able to keep from smiling and letting her triumph be seen; but quickly enough she

succeeded in assuming an air of perfect indifference and even severity. Carelessly she let her hand fall upon

my shoulder, inclined her head slightly to one side, and we began to dance. I have never known a waist more

voluptuous and supple! Her fresh breath touched my face; at times a lock of hair, becoming separated from its

I made three turns of the ballroom (she waltzes surprisingly well). She was out of breath, her eyes were

dulled, her halfopen lips were scarcely able to whisper the indispensable: "merci, monsieur."

"I have heard, Princess, that although quite unacquainted with you, I have already had the misfortune to incur

your displeasure . . . that you have considered me insolent. Can that possibly true?"

"Would you like to confirm me in that opinion now?" she answered, with an ironical little grimace very

"If I had the audacity to insult you in any way, then allow me to have the still greater audacity to beg your

pardon. . . And, indeed, I should very much like to prove to you that you are mistaken in regard to me" . . .

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

"You know, Princess," I said to her, with a certain amount of vexation, "one should never spurn a penitent

criminal: in his despair he may become twice as much a criminal as before . . . and then" . . .

Sudden laughter and whispering from the people around us caused me to turn my head and to interrupt my

phrase. A few paces away from me stood a group of men, amongst them the captain of dragoons, who had

manifested inten tions hostile to the charming Princess. He was particularly well pleased with something or

other, and was rubbing his hands, laughing and ex changing meaning glances with his companions. All at

once a gentleman in an eveningdress coat and with long moustaches and a red face separated himself from

the crowd and directed his uncertain steps straight towards Princess Mary. He was drunk. Coming to a halt

opposite the em barrassed Princess and placing his hands behind his back, he fixed his dull grey eyes upon

"Permettez . . . but what is the good of that sort of thing here. . . All I need say is: I en gage you for the

"Very well!" she replied in a trembling voice, throwing a beseeching glance around. Alas! Her mother was a

long way off, and not one of the cavaliers of her acquaintance was near. A certain aidedecamp apparently

saw the whole scene, but he concealed himself behind the crowd in order not to be mixed up in the affair.

"What?" said the drunken gentleman, wink ing to the captain of dragoons, who was encourag ing him by

signs. "Do you not wish to dance then? . . . All the same I again have the honour to engage you for the

mazurka. . . You think, perhaps, that I am drunk! That is all right! . . . I can dance all the easier, I assure you"

I went up to the drunken gentleman, caught him none too gently by the arm, and, looking him fixedly in the

face, requested him to retire. "Because," I added, "the Princess promised long ago to dance the mazurka with

"Well, then, there's nothing to be done! Another time!" he said, bursting out laughing, and he retired to his

The Princess went up to her mother and told her the whole story. The latter sought me out among the crowd

and thanked me. She informed me that she knew my mother and was on terms of friendship with half a dozen

"I do not know how it has happened that we have not made your acquaintance up to now," she added; "but

confess, you alone are to blame for that. You fight shy of everyone in a positively unseemly way. I hope the

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

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

I did not once allude to the drunken gentleman, or to my previous behaviour, or to Grushnitski. The

impression produced upon her by the unpleasant scene was gradually dispelled; her face brightened up; she

jested very charmingly; her conversation was witty, without pretensions to wit, vivacious and spontaneous;

her observations were sometimes profound. . . In a very involved sentence I gave her to understand that I had

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

"I did not wish to make your acquaintance," I continued, "because you are surrounded by too dense a throng

She looked fixedly at me as if endeavouring to recollect something, then blushed slightly again and finally

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

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

"Is he a cadet, then?" . . . she said rapidly, and then added: "But I thought" . . .

Thereupon the conversation took a different direction, and it did not return to the former subject.

And now the mazurka came to an end and we separated until we should meet again. The ladies drove off

"Aha!" he said: "so it is you! And yet you did not wish to make the acquaintance of Princess Mary otherwise

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

ABOUT seven o'clock in the evening, I was walking on the boulevard. Grushnitski perceived me a long way

off, and came up to me. A sort of ridiculous rapture was shining in his eyes. He pressed my hand warmly, and

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

"What? But yesterday! Have you for gotten? . . . Mary has told me everything" . . .

"Listen," said Grushnitski very earnestly; "pray do not make fun of my love, if you wish to remain my friend.

. . You see, I love her to the point of madness . . . and I think I hope she loves me too. . . I have a

request to make of you. You will be at their house this even ing; promise me to observe everything. I know

you are experienced in these matters, you know women better than I. . . Women! Women! Who can

understand them? Their smiles contra dict their glances, their words promise and allure, but the tone of their

voice repels. . . At one time they grasp and divine in a moment our most secret thoughts, at another they

cannot under stand the clearest hints. . . Take Princess Mary, now: yesterday her eyes, as they rested upon

"You see the bad side of everything . . . materialist," he added contemptuously. "How ever, let us talk of

Passing by Vera's windows, I saw her looking out. We threw a fleeting glance at each other. She entered the

Ligovskis' drawingroom soon after us. Princess Ligovski presented me to her, as a relation of her own. Tea

was served. The guests were numerous, and the conversation was general. I endeavoured to please the

Princess, jested, and made her laugh heartily a few times. Princess Mary, also, was more than once on the

point of bursting out laughing, but she restrained herself in order not to depart from the role she had assumed.

She finds languor becoming to her, and perhaps she is not mistaken. Grushnitski appears to be very glad that

She threw me a glance full of love and grati tude. I have grown accustomed to such glances; but at one time

they constituted my felicity. The Princess seated her daughter at the piano forte, and all the company begged

her to sing. I kept silence, and, taking advantage of the hubbub, I went aside to the window with Vera, who

wished to say something of great import ance to both of us. . . It turned out to be nonsense. . .

Meanwhile my indifference was vexing Princess Mary, as I was able to make out from a single angry,

gleaming glance which she cast at me. . . Oh! I understand the method of conversation wonderfully well:

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

"Listen," said Vera to me, "I do not wish you to make my husband's acquaintance, but you must, without fail,

make yourself agreeable to the Princess; that will be an easy task for you: you can do anything you wish. It is

"You know that I am your slave: I have never been able to resist you . . . and I shall be punished for it, you

will cease to love me! At least, I want to preserve my reputation . . . not for myself that you know very

well! . . . Oh! I beseech you: do not torture me, as before, with idle doubts and feigned coldness! It may be

that I shall die soon; I feel that I am growing weaker from day to day. . . And, yet, I cannot think of the future

life, I think only of you. . . You men do not understand the delights of a glance, of a pressure of the hand . . .

but as for me, I swear to you that, when I listen to your voice, I feel such a deep, strange bliss that the most

Meanwhile, Princess Mary had finished her song. Murmurs of praise were to be heard all around. I went up to

her after all the other guests, and said something rather carelessly to her on the subject of her voice.

She made a little grimace, pouting her lower lip, and dropped a very sarcastic curtsey.

"That is all the more flattering," she said, "because you have not been listening to me at all; but perhaps you

"Grushnitski is right in saying that you have very prosaic tastes . . . and I see that you like music in a

"You are mistaken again: I am by no means an epicure. I have a most wretched digestion. But music after

dinner puts one to sleep, and to sleep after dinner is healthful; consequently I like music in a medicinal

respect. In the evening, on the contrary, it excites my nerves too much: I become either too melancholy or too

gay. Both are fatiguing, where there is no positive reason for being either sorrowful or glad. And, more

over, melancholy in society is ridiculous, and too great gaiety is unbecoming" . . .

She did not hear me to the end, but went away and sat beside Grushnitski, and they entered into a sort of

sentimental conversation. Ap parently the Princess answered his sage phrases rather absentmindedly and

inconsequently, although endeavouring to show that she was listening to him with attention, because

sometimes he looked at her in astonishment, trying to divine the cause of the inward agitation which was

But I have found you out, my dear Princess! Have a care! You want to pay me back in the same coin, to

wound my vanity you will not succeed! And if you declare war on me, I will be merciless!

In the course of the evening, I purposely tried a few times to join in their conversation, but she met my

remarks rather coldly, and, at last, I retired in pretended vexation. Princess Mary was triumphant, Grushnitski

likewise. Triumph, my friends, and be quick about it! . . . You will not have long to triumph! . . . It cannot be

otherwise. I have a presentiment. . . On making a woman's acquaintance I have always unerringly guessed

The remaining part of the evening I spent at Vera's side, and talked to the full about the old days. . . Why

does she love me so much? In truth, I am unable to say, all the more so because she is the only woman who

has understood me perfectly, with all my petty weaknesses and evil passions. . . Can it be that wickedness is

Grushnitski and I left the house together. In the street he took my arm, and, after a long silence, said:

"You are a fool," I should have liked to answer. But I restrained myself and only shrugged my shoulders.

ALL these days I have not once departed from my system. Princess Mary has come to like talking to me; I

have told her a few of the strange events of my life, and she is beginning to look on me as an extraordinary

man. I mock at everything in the world, especially feelings; and she is taking alarm. When I am present, she

does not dare to embark upon sentimental discussions with Grushnitski, and already, on a few occasions, she

has answered his sallies with a mocking smile. But every time that Grushnitski comes up to her I assume an

air of meekness and leave the two of them together. On the first occasion, she was glad, or tried to make it

"You have very little vanity!" she said to me yesterday. "What makes you think that I find Grushnitski the

I answered that I was sacrificing my own pleasure for the sake of the happiness of a friend.

I looked at her intently and assumed a serious air. After that for the whole day I did not speak a single word

to her. . . In the evening, she was pensive; this morning, at the well, more pensive still. When I went up to

her, she was listening absentmindedly to Grushnitski, who was ap parently falling into raptures about

Nature, but, so soon as she perceived me, she began to laugh at a most inopportune moment

pretending not to notice me. I went on a little further and began stealthily to observe her. She turned away

from her companion and yawned twice. Decidedly she had grown tired of Grushnitski I will not talk to her

I OFTEN ask myself why I am so obstinately endeavouring to win the love of a young girl whom I do not

wish to deceive, and whom I will never marry. Why this womanlike coquetry? Vera loves me more than

Princess Mary ever will. Had I regarded the latter as an invincible beauty, I should perhaps have been allured

However, there is no such difficulty in this case! Consequently, my present feeling is not that restless craving

for love which torments us in the early days of our youth, flinging us from one woman to another until we

find one who can not endure us. And then begins our constancy that sincere, unending passion which

may be expressed mathematically by a line falling from a point into space the secret of that endlessness

From what motive, then, am I taking all this trouble? Envy of Grushnitski? Poor fellow!

He is quite undeserving of it. Or, is it the result of that ugly, but invincible, feeling which causes us to destroy

the sweet illusions of our neighbour in order to have the petty satisfaction of saying to him, when, in despair,

"My friend, the same thing happened to me, and you see, nevertheless, that I dine, sup, and sleep very

peacefully, and I shall, I hope, know how to die without tears and lamentations."

There is, in sooth, a boundless enjoyment in the possession of a young, scarcebudded soul! It is like a

floweret which exhales its best perfume at the kiss of the first ray of the sun. You should pluck the flower at

that moment, and, breathing its fragrance to the full, cast it upon the road: perchance someone will pick it up!

I feel within me that insatiate hunger which devours everything it meets upon the way; I look upon the

sufferings and joys of others only from the point of view of their relation to myself, regarding them as the

nutriment which sustains my spiritual forces. I myself am no longer capable of committing follies under the

influence of passion; with me, ambition has been repressed by circumstances, but it has emerged in another

form, because ambition is nothing more nor less than a thirst for power, and my chief pleasure is to make

everything that surrounds me subject to my will. To arouse the feeling of love, devotion and awe towards

oneself is not that the first sign, and the greatest triumph, of power? To be the cause of suffering and joy

to another without in the least possessing any definite right to be so is not that the sweetest food for

our pride? And what is happiness? Satisfied pride. Were I to consider myself the best, the most powerful

man in the world, I should be happy; were all to love me, I should find within me inexhaustible springs of

love. Evil begets evil; the first suffering gives us the conception of the satis faction of torturing another. The

idea of evil cannot enter the mind without arousing a desire to put it actually into practice. "Ideas are organic

entities," someone has said. The very fact of their birth endows them with form, and that form is action. He in

whose brain the most ideas are born accomplishes the most. From that cause a genius, chained to an official

desk, must die or go mad, just as it often happens that a man of powerful constitution, and at the same time of

Passions are naught but ideas in their first development; they are an attribute of the youth of the heart, and

foolish is he who thinks that he will be agitated by them all his life. Many quiet rivers begin their course as

noisy waterfalls, and there is not a single stream which will leap or foam throughout its way to the sea. That

quiet ness, however, is frequently the sign of great, though latent, strength. The fulness and depth of feelings

and thoughts do not admit of frenzied outbursts. In suffering and in enjoyment the soul renders itself a strict

account of all it experiences and convinces itself that such things must be. It knows that, but for storms, the

constant heat of the sun would dry it up! It imbues itself with its own life pets and punishes itself like a

favourite child. It is only in that highest state of selfknowledge that a man can appreciate the divine justice.

On reading over this page, I observe that I have made a wide digression from my subject. . . But what matter?

. . . You see, it is for myself that I am writing this diary, and, consequently anything that I jot down in it will

Grushnitski has called to see me today. He flung himself upon my neck; he has been pro moted to be an

"Because the soldier's cloak suits you very well, and you must confess that an infantry uniform, made by one

of the local tailors, will not add anything of interest to you. . . Do you not see? Hitherto, you have been an

"Talk away, doctor, talk away! You will not prevent me from rejoicing. He does not know," added

Grushnitski in a whisper to me, "how many hopes these epaulettes have lent me. . . Oh! . . . Epaulettes,

"I? Not on any account will I show myself to Princess Mary until my uniform is finished."

He became embarrassed, and fell into thought; he would gladly have bragged and told lies, but his conscience

"Love me? Good gracious, Pechorin, what ideas you do have! . . . How could she possibly love me so soon? .

"Very well! And, I suppose, in your opinion, a wellbred man should also keep silence in regard to his

"Ah, my dear fellow! There are ways of doing everything; often things may remain unspoken, but yet may be

"That is true. . . But the love which we read in the eyes does not pledge a woman to any thing, whilst words.

"She?" he answered, raising his eyes heaven ward and smiling complacently. "I am sorry for you,

In the opinion of the learned of Pyatigorsk, the hollow in question is nothing more nor less than an extinct

crater. It is situated on a slope of Mount Mashuk, at the distance of a verst from the town, and is approached

by a narrow path between brushwood and rocks. In climbing up the hill, I gave Princess Mary my arm, and

Our conversation commenced with slander; I proceeded to pass in review our present and absent

acquaintances; at first I exposed their ridiculous, and then their bad, sides. My choler rose. I began in jest, and

"You are a dangerous man!" she said. "I would rather perish in the woods under the knife of an assassin than

under your tongue. . . In all earnestness I beg of you: when it comes into your mind to speak evil of me, take

a knife instead and cut my throat. I think you would not find that a very difficult matter."

"Yes, such has been my lot from very child hood! All have read upon my countenance the marks of bad

qualities, which were not existent; but they were assumed to exist and they were born. I was modest I

was accused of slyness: I grew secretive. I profoundly felt both good and evil no one caressed me, all

insulted me: I grew vindictive. I was gloomy other children merry and talkative; I felt myself higher than

they I was rated lower: I grew envious. I was prepared to love the whole world no one understood me:

I learned to hate. My colour less youth flowed by in conflict with myself and the world; fearing ridicule, I

buried my best feelings in the depths of my heart, and there they died. I spoke the truth I was not believed:

I began to deceive. Having acquired a thorough knowledge of the world and the springs of society, I grew

skilled in the science of life; and I saw how others without skill were happy, en joying gratuitously the

advantages which I so unweariedly sought. Then despair was born within my breast not that despair which

is cured at the muzzle of a pistol, but the cold, powerless despair concealed beneath the mask of amiability

and a goodnatured smile. I became a moral cripple. One half of my soul ceased to exist; it dried up,

evaporated, died, and I cut it off and cast it from me. The other half moved and lived at the service of all;

but it remained un observed, because no one knew that the half which had perished had ever existed. But,

now, the memory of it has been awakened within me by you, and I have read you its epitaph. To many,

epitaphs in general seem ridiculous, but to me they do not; especially when I remember what reposes beneath

them. I will not, however, ask you to share my opinion. If this outburst seems absurd to you, I pray you,

At that moment I met her eyes: tears were welling in them. Her arm, as it leaned upon mine, was trembling;

her cheeks were aflame; she pitied me! Sympathy a feeling to which all women yield so easily, had dug

its talons into her inexperienced heart. During the whole excursion she was preoccupied, and did not flirt with

We arrived at the hollow; the ladies left their cavaliers, but she did not let go my arm. The witticisms of the

local dandies failed to make her laugh; the steepness of the declivity beside which she was standing caused

her no alarm, although the other ladies uttered shrill cries and shut their eyes.

On the way back, I did not renew our melan choly conversation, but to my idle questions and jests she gave

She looked at me intently, shook her head and again fell into a reverie. It was evident that she was wishing to

say something, but did not know how to begin. Her breast heaved. . . And, indeed, that was but natural! A

muslin sleeve is a weak protection, and an electric spark was running from my arm to hers. Almost all

passions have their beginning in that way, and frequently we are very much deceived in thinking that a

woman loves us for our moral and physical merits; of course, these prepare and predispose the heart for the

reception of the holy flame, but for all that it is the first touch that decides the matter.

"I have been very amiable today, have I not?" Princess Mary said to me, with a forced smile, when we had

She is dissatisfied with herself. She accuses herself of coldness. . . Oh, that is the first, the chief triumph!

Tomorrow, she will be feeling a desire to recompense me. I know the whole proceeding by heart already

I HAVE seen Vera today. She has begun to plague me with her jealousy. Princess Mary has taken it into her

head, it seems, to confide the secrets of her heart to Vera: a happy choice, it must be confessed!

"I can guess what all this is leading to," said Vera to me. "You had better simply tell me at once that you are

"Then why run after her, disturb her, agitate her imagination! . . . Oh, I know you well! Listen if you wish

me to believe you, come to Kislovodsk in a week's time; we shall be moving thither the day after tomorrow.

Princess Mary will remain here longer. Engage lodgings next door to us. We shall be living in the large house

near the spring, on the mezzanine floor. Princess Ligovski will be below us, and next door there is a house

belonging to the same landlord, which has not yet been taken. . . Will you come?" . . .

Grushnitski came to me at six o'clock and announced that his uniform would be ready tomorrow, just in

"At last I shall dance with her the whole evening through. . . And then I shall talk to my heart's content," he

"Why, tomorrow! Do you not know, then? A great festival and the local authorities have undertaken to

I went out alone, and, meeting Princess Mary I asked her to keep the mazurka for me. She seemed surprised

"I thought that you would only dance from necessity as on the last occasion," she said, with a very charming

I finished up the evening at Princess Ligovski's; there were no other guests present except Vera and a certain

very amusing, little old gentleman. I was in good spirits, and improvised various extraordinary stories.

Princess Mary sat opposite me and listened to my nonsense with such deep, strained, and even tender

attention that I grew ashamed of myself. What had become of her vivacity, her coquetry, her caprices, her

Vera noticed everything, and her sickly coun tenance was a picture of profound grief. She was sitting in the

Then I related the whole dramatic story of our acquaintanceship, our love concealing it all, of course,

So vividly did I portray my tenderness, my anxieties, my raptures; in so favourable a light did I exhibit her

actions and her character, that involuntarily she had to forgive me for my flirtation with Princess Mary.

She rose, sat down beside us, and brightened up . . . and it was only at two o'clock in the morning that we

HALF an hour before the ball, Grushnitski presented himself to me in the full splendour of the uniform of the

Line infantry. Attached to his third button was a little bronze chain, on which hung a double lorgnette.

Epaulettes of incredible size were bent backwards and upwards in the shape of a cupid's wings; his boots

creaked; in his left hand he held cinnamon coloured kid gloves and a foragecap, and with his right he kept

every moment twisting his frizzled tuft of hair up into tiny curls. Com placency and at the same time a

certain diffi dence were depicted upon his face. His festal appearance and proud gait would have made me

burst out laughing, if such a proceeding had been in accordance with my intentions.

He threw his cap and gloves on the table and began to pull down the skirts of his coat and to put himself to

rights before the lookingglass. An enormous black handkerchief, which was twisted into a very high

stiffener for his cravat, and the bristles of which supported his chin, stuck out an inch over his collar. It

seemed to him to be rather small, and he drew it up as far as his ears. As a result of that hard work the

collar of his uniform being very tight and uncomfortable he grew red in the face.

"They say you have been courting my princess terribly these last few days?" he said, rather carelessly and

"'Where are we fools to drink tea!'"[1] I answered, repeating a pet phrase of one of the cleverest rogues of

[1] A popular phrase, equivalent to: "How should I think of doing such a thing?"

"Tell me, does my uniform fit me well? . . . Oh, the cursed Jew! . . . How it cuts me under the armpits! . . .

"Good gracious, what more do you want? You are reeking of rose pomade as it is."

"I am afraid I shall have to lead off the mazurka with Princess Mary, and I scarcely know a single figure" . . .

"Just so, indeed!" he said, striking his fore head. "Goodbye. . . I will go and wait for her at the entrance."

Half an hour later I also set off. The street was dark and deserted. Around the assembly rooms, or inn

whichever you prefer people were thronging. The windows were lighted up, the strains of the regimental

band were borne to me on the evening breeze. I walked slowly; I felt melancholy.

"Can it be possible," I thought, "that my sole mission on earth is to destroy the hopes of others? Ever since I

began to live and to act, it seems always to have been my fate to play a part in the ending of other people's

dramas, as if, but for me, no one could either die or fall into despair! I have been the indispensable person of

the fifth act; unwillingly I have played the pitiful part of an executioner or a traitor. What object has fate had

in this? . . . Surely, I have not been appointed by destiny to be an author of middle class tragedies and family

romances, or to be a collaborator with the purveyor of stories for the 'Reader's Library,'[1] for example? . .

. How can I tell? . . . Are there not many people who, in beginning life, think to end it like Lord Byron or

Alexander the Great, and, nevertheless, remain Titular Councillors[2] all their days?"

Entering the saloon, I concealed myself in a crowd of men, and began to make my observa tions.

Grushnitski was standing beside Princess Mary and saying something with great warmth. She was listening to

him absentmindedly and looking about her, her fan laid to her lips. Impatience was depicted upon her face,

her eyes were searching all around for somebody. I went softly behind them in order to listen to their

"You torture me, Princess!" Grushnitski was saying. "You have changed dreadfully 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

"I! Changed? . . . Oh, never! You know that such a thing is impossible! Whoever has seen you once will bear

"But why will you not let me say tonight what you have so often listened to with con descension and

"Oh! I have been bitterly mistaken! . . . I thought, fool that I was, that these epaulettes, at least, would give

me the right to hope. . . No, it would have been better for me to have remained for ever in that contemptible

At that moment I went up and bowed to Princess Mary. She blushed a little, and went on rapidly:

"Is it not true, Monsieur Pechorin, that the grey cloak suits Monsieur Grushnitski much better?" . . .

"I do not agree with you," I answered: "he is more youthfullooking still in his uniform."

That was a blow which Grushnitski could not bear: like all boys, he has pretensions to being an old man; he

thinks that the deep traces of passions upon his countenance take the place of the lines scored by Time. He

"Confess now," I said to Princess Mary: "that although he has always been most ridiculous, yet not so long

Grushnitski followed the Princess about during the whole evening and danced either with her or visavis.

He devoured her with his eyes, sighed, and wearied her with prayers and reproaches. After the third quadrille

"You are going to dance the mazurka with her?" he asked in a solemn tone. "She ad mitted it" . . .

"Of course not. . . I ought to have expected such a thing from that chit that flirt. . . I will have my revenge,

"You should lay the blame on your cloak, or your epaulettes, but why accuse her? What fault is it of hers that

"Why did you hope? To desire and to strive after something that I can understand! But who ever hopes?"

The mazurka began. Grushnitski chose no one but the Princess, other cavaliers chose her every minute:

obviously a conspiracy against me all the better! She wants to talk to me, they are preventing her she

I squeezed her hand once or twice; the second time she drew it away without saying a word.

And her face became so pensive, so sad, that I promised myself that I would not fail to kiss her hand that

The guests began to disperse. As I was handing Princess Mary into her carriage, I rapidly pressed her little

The young men, Grushnitski amongst them, were having supper at the large table. As I came in, they all fell

silent: evidently they had been talking about me. Since the last ball many of them have been sulky with me,

especially the captain of dragoons; and now, it seems, a hostile gang is actually being formed against me,

I am very glad; I love enemies, though not in the Christian sense. They amuse me, stir my blood. To be

always on one's guard, to catch every glance, the meaning of every word, to guess intentions, to crush

conspiracies, to pretend to be deceived and suddenly with one blow to over throw the whole immense and

laboriously con structed edifice of cunning and design that is what I call life.

During supper Grushnitski kept whispering and exchanging winks with the captain of dragoons.

VERA and her husband left this morning for Kislovodsk. I met their carriage as I was walking to Princess

Who is to blame, then? Why will she not give me an opportunity of seeing her alone? Love is like fire if

not fed it dies out. Perchance, jealousy will accomplish what my entreaties have failed to do.

I stayed a whole hour at Princess Ligovski's. Mary has not been out, she is ill. In the evening she was not on

the boulevard. The newly formed gang, armed with lorgnettes, has in very fact assumed a menacing aspect. I

am glad that Princess Mary is ill; they might be guilty of some impertinence towards her. Grushnitski goes

about with dishevelled locks, and wears an appearance of despair: he is evidently afflicted, as a matter of fact;

his vanity especially has been injured. But, you see, there are some people in whom even despair is divert

On my way home I noticed that something was lacking. I have not seen her! She is ill! Surely I have not

AT eleven o'clock in the morning the hour at which Princess Ligovski is usually perspiring in the

Ermolov baths I walked past her house. Princess Mary was sitting pensively at the window; on seeing me

I entered the anteroom, there was nobody there, and, availing myself of the freedom afforded by the local

Princess Mary's charming countenance was shrouded with a dull pallor. She was standing by the pianoforte,

leaning one hand on the back of an armchair; her hand was very faintly trembling. I went up to her softly

She lifted a deep, languid glance upon me and shook her head. Her lips were about to utter something, but

failed; her eyes filled with tears; she sank into the armchair and buried her face in her hands.

"Forgive me, Princess. I have acted like a madman. . . It will not happen another time; I shall see to that. . .

But how can you know what has been taking place hitherto within my soul? That you will never learn, and so

I wandered on foot about the environs of Mount Mashuk till evening, fatigued myself terribly and, on arriving

"The whole town is saying so. All my patients are occupied with that important piece of news; but you know

"To prove the falsity of these rumours, doctor, I may mention, as a secret, that I am moving to Kislovodsk

"Doctor, doctor! Look at me! Am I in the least like a bridegroom, or any such 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 such

occasions. . . And so, as a friend, I should advise you to be more cautious. The air of these parts is very

dangerous. How many handsome young men, worthy of a better fate, have I not seen departing from here

straight to the altar! . . . Would you believe me, they were even going to find a wife for me! That is to say,

one person was a lady belonging to this district, who had a very pale daughter. I had the misfortune to tell

her that the latter's colour would be restored after wedlock, and then with tears of gratitude she offered me her

daughter's hand and the whole of her own fortune fifty souls,[1] I think. But I replied that I was unfit for

I gathered from his words that various ugly rumours were already being spread about the town on the subject

I HAVE been in Kislovodsk three days now. Every day I see Vera at the well and out walking. In the

morning, when I awake, I sit by my window and direct my lorgnette at her balcony. She has already been

dressed long ago, and is waiting for the signal agreed upon. We meet, as though unexpectedly, in the garden

which slopes down from our houses to the well. The lifegiving mountain air has brought back her colour

and her strength. Not for nothing is Narzan called the "Spring of Heroes." The inhabitants aver that the air of

Kislovodsk pre disposes the heart to love and that all the romances which have had their beginning at the

foot of Mount Mashuk find their consummation here. And, in very fact, everything here breathes of solitude;

everything has an air of secrecy the thick shadows of the linden avenues, bending over the torrent which

falls, noisy and foaming, from flag to flag and cleaves itself a way between the mountains now becoming

clad with verdure the mistfilled, silent ravines, with their rami fications straggling away in all

directions the freshness of the aromatic air, laden with the fragrance of the tall southern grasses and the

white acacia the neverceasing, sweetlyslumber ous babble of the cool brooks, which, meeting at the

end of the valley, flow along in friendly emulation, and finally fling themselves into the Podkumok. On this

side, the ravine is wider and becomes converted into a verdant dell, through which winds the dusty road.

Every time I look at it, I seem to see a carriage coming along and a rosy little face looking out of the

carriagewindow. Many carriages have already driven by but still there is no sign of that particular one.

The village which lies behind the fortress has become populous. In the restaurant, built upon a hill a few

paces distant from my lodgings, lights are beginning to flash in the evening through the double row of

In no place are such quantities of Kakhetian wine and mineral waters drunk as here.

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 with three old men who were going to

AT last they have arrived. I was sitting by the window when I heard the clattering of their carriage. My heart

throbbed. . . What does it mean? Can it be that I am in love? . . . I am so stupidly constituted that such a thing

I dined at their house. Princess Ligovski looked at me with much tenderness, and did not leave her daughter's

side . . . a bad sign! On the other hand, Vera is jealous of me in re gard to Princess Mary however, I have

been striving for that good fortune. What will not a woman do in order to chagrin her rival? I re member

that once a woman loved me simply because I was in love with another woman. There is nothing more

paradoxical than the fe male mind; it is difficult to convince a woman of anything; they have to be led into

convincing themselves. The order of the proofs by which they demolish their prejudices is most original; to

learn their dialectic it is necessary to over throw in your own mind every scholastic rule of logic. For

A few dots here, because reason has no more to say. But, generally, there is something to be said by the

Ever since poets have written and women have read them (for which the poets should be most deeply

grateful) women have been called angels so many times that, in very truth, in their sim plicity of soul, they

have believed the compli ment, forgetting that, for money, the same poets have glorified Nero as a demigod.

It would be unreasonable were I to speak of women with such malignity I who have loved nothing else in

the world I who have always been ready to sacrifice for their sake ease, am bition, life itself. . . But, you

see, I am not endeavouring, in a fit of vexation and injured vanity, to pluck from them the magic veil through

which only an accustomed glance can penetrate. No, all that I say about them is but the result of

Women ought to wish that all men knew them as well as I because I have loved them a hundred times better

since I have ceased to be afraid of them and have comprehended their little weaknesses.

By the way: the other day, Werner compared women to the enchanted forest of which Tasso tells in his

"So soon as you approach," he said, "from all directions terrors, such as I pray Heaven may preserve us from,

will take wing at you: duty, pride, decorum, public opinion, ridicule, con tempt. . . You must simply go

straight on without looking at them; gradually the monsters disappear, and, before you, opens a bright and

quiet glade, in the midst of which blooms the green myrtle. On the other hand, woe to you if, at the first steps,

THIS evening has been fertile in events. About three versts from Kislovodsk, in the gorge through which the

Podkumok flows, there is a cliff called the Ring. It is a naturally formed gate, rising upon a lofty hill, and

through it the setting sun throws its last flaming glance upon the world. A numerous cavalcade set off thither

to gaze at the sunset through the rockwindow. To tell the truth, not one of them was thinking about the sun.

I rode beside Princess Mary. On the way home, we had to ford the Podkumok. Mountain streams, even the

smallest, are danger ous; especially so, because the bottom is a perfect kaleidoscope: it changes every day

owing to the pressure of the current; where yesterday there was a rock, today there is a cavity. I took Prin

cess Mary's horse by the bridle and led it into the water, which came no higher than its knees. We began to

move slowly in a slanting direction against the current. It is a wellknown fact that, in crossing rapid

streamlets, you should never look at the water, because, if you do, your head begins to whirl directly. I forgot

We had reached the middle and were right in the vortex, when suddenly she reeled in her saddle.

She grew better; she was about to disengage herself from my arm, but I clasped her tender, soft figure in a

still closer embrace; my cheek almost touched hers, from which was wafted flame.

I paid no attention to her alarm and confusion, and my lips touched her tender cheek. She shud dered, but

When we made our way out on the bank, the horses were all put to the trot. Princess Mary kept hers back; I

remained beside her. It was evident that my silence was making her uneasy, but I swore to myself that I

would not speak a single word out of curiosity. I wanted to see how she would extricate herself from that

"Either you despise me, or you love me very much!" she said at length, and there were tears in her voice.

"Perhaps you want to laugh at me, to excite my soul and then to abandon me. . . That would be so base, so

vile, that the mere supposition . . . Oh, no!" she added, in a voice of tender trustfulness; "there is nothing in

me which would preclude respect; is it not so? Your presumptuous action . . . I must, I must forgive you for

it, because I permitted it. . . Answer, speak, I want to hear your voice!" . . .

There was such womanly impatience in her last words that, involuntarily, I smiled; happily it was beginning

"You are silent!" she continued; "you wish, perhaps, that I should be the first to tell you that I love you." . . .

"Is that what you wish?" she continued, turning rapidly towards me. . . . There was something terrible in the

She struck her horse with her ridingwhip and set off at full gallop along the narrow, dangerous road. It all

happened so quickly that I was scarcely able to overtake her, and then only by the time she had joined the rest

All the way home she was continually talk ing and laughing. There was something feverish in her

movements; not once did she look in my direction. Everybody observed her unusual gaiety. Princess

Ligovski rejoiced inwardly as she looked at her daughter. However, the latter simply has a fit of nerves: she

This thought affords me measureless delight: there are moments when I understand the Vam pire. . . And

On dismounting, the ladies went into Princess Ligovski's house. I was excited, and I galloped to the

mountains in order to dispel the thoughts which had thronged into my head. The dewy evening breathed an

intoxicating coolness. The moon was rising from behind the dark summits. Each step of my unshod horse

resounded hollowly in the silence of the gorges. I watered the horse at the waterfall, and then, after greedily

I set off on my way back. I rode through the village. The lights in the windows were begin ning to go out;

the sentries on the fortress rampart and the Cossacks in the surrounding pickets were calling out in drawling

In one of the village houses, built at the edge of a ravine, I noticed an extraordinary illumina tion. At times,

discordant murmurs and shouting could be heard, proving that a military carouse was in full swing. I

dismounted and crept up to the window. The shutter had not been made fast, and I could see the banqueters

The captain of dragoons, flushed with wine, struck the table with his fist, demanding attention.

"Gentlemen!" he said, "this won't do! Pechorin must be taught a lesson! These Peters burg fledglings always

carry their heads high until they get a slap in the face! He thinks that be cause he always wears clean gloves

and polished boots he is the only one who has ever lived in society. And what a haughty smile! All the same,

"I think so too," said Grushnitski. "He is fond of getting himself out of trouble by pre tending to be only

having a joke. I once gave him such a talking to that anyone else in his place would have cut me to pieces on

the spot. But Pechorin turned it all to the ridiculous side. I, of course, did not call him out because that was

"Grushnitski is angry with him for having captured Princess Mary from him," somebody said.

"That's a new idea! It is true I did run after Princess Mary a little, but I left off at once be cause I do not

"Yes, I assure you that he is a coward of the first water, I mean Pechorin, not Grushnitski but Grushnitski

is a fine fellow, and, besides, he is my true friend!" the captain of dragoons went on.

"Gentlemen! Nobody here stands up for him? Nobody? So much the better! Would you like to put his

"Listen here, then: Grushnitski in particular is angry with him therefore to Grushnitski falls the chief part.

He will pick a quarrel over some silly trifle or other, and will challenge Pechorin to a duel. . . Wait a bit; here

is where the joke comes in. . . He will challenge him to a duel; very well! The whole proceed ing

challenge, preparations, conditions will be as solemn and aweinspiring as possible I will see to that. I

will be your second, my poor friend! Very well! Only here is the rub; we will put no bullets in the pistols. I

can answer for it that Pechorin will turn coward I will place them six paces apart, devil take it! Are you

Tremblingly I awaited Grushnitski's answer. I was filled with cold rage at the thought that, but for an

accident, I might have made myself the laughingstock of those fools. If Grushnitski had not agreed, I should

have thrown myself upon his neck; but, after an interval of silence, he rose from his place, extended his hand

"Why do they all hate me?" I thought "why? Have I affronted anyone? No. Can it be that I am one of

"Have a care, Mr. Grushnitski!" I said, walk ing up and down the room: "I am not to be jested with like this!

You may pay dearly for the approbation of your foolish comrades. I am not your toy!" . . .

"Nor I either. . . I was accusing you . . . perhaps groundlessly. But explain yourself, I can forgive you

"Everything . . . only speak the truth . . . and be quick. . . You see, I have been thinking a good deal, trying to

explain, to justify, your be haviour. Perhaps you are afraid of opposition on the part of my relations . . . that

"I will win them over by entreaties. Or, is it your own position? . . . But you know that I can sacrifice

everything for the sake of the man I love. . . Oh, answer quickly have pity. . . You do not despise me

Princess Ligovski was walking in front of us with Vera's husband, and had not seen anything; but we might

have been observed by some of the invalids who were strolling about the most in quisitive gossips of all

"I will tell you the whole truth," I answered. "I will not justify myself, nor explain my ac tions: I do not love

I SOMETIMES despise myself. . . Is not that the reason why I despise others also? . . . I have grown

incapable of noble impulses; I am afraid of appearing ridiculous to myself. In my place, another would have

offered Princess Mary son coeur et sa fortune; but over me the word "marry" has a kind of magical power.

However passionately I love a woman, if she only gives me to feel that I have to marry her then farewell,

love! My heart is turned to stone, and nothing will warm it anew. I am prepared for any other sacrifice but

that; my life twenty times over, nay, my honour I would stake on the for tune of a card . . . but my freedom I

will never sell. Why do I prize it so highly? What is there in it to me? For what am I preparing myself? What

do I hope for from the future? . . . In truth, absolutely nothing. It is a kind of innate dread, an inexplicable

prejudice. . . There are people, you know, who have an unaccountable dread of spiders, beetles, mice. . . Shall

I con fess it? When I was but a child, a certain old woman told my fortune to my mother. She pre dicted

for me death from a wicked wife. I was profoundly struck by her words at the time: an irresistible repugnance

to marriage was born with in my soul. . . Meanwhile, something tells me that her prediction will be realized;

I will try, at all events, to arrange that it shall be realized as late in life as possible.

YESTERDAY, the conjurer Apfelbaum ar rived here. A long placard made its appear ance on the door of

the restaurant, informing the most respected public that the abovementioned marvellous conjurer, acrobat,

chemist, and opti cian would have the honour to give a magnificent performance on the present day at eight

o'clock in the evening, in the saloon of the Nobles' Club (in other words, the restaurant); tickets two rubles

Everyone intends to go and see the marvellous conjurer; even Princess Ligovski has taken a ticket for herself,

After dinner today, I walked past Vera's win dows; she was sitting by herself on the balcony. A note fell at

"Come to me at ten o'clock this evening by the large staircase. My husband has gone to Pyati gorsk and will

not return before tomorrow morn ing. My servants and maids will not be at home; I have distributed

tickets to all of them, and to the princess's servants as well. I await you; come without fail."

"Aha!" I said to myself, "so then it has turned out at last as I thought it would."

At eight o'clock I went to see the conjurer. The public assembled before the stroke of nine. The performance

began. On the back rows of chairs I recognized Vera's and Princess Ligovski's menservants and maids. They

were all there, every single one. Grushnitski, with his lorgnette, was sitting in the front row, and the conjurer

had recourse to him every time he needed a hand kerchief, a watch, a ring and so forth.

For some time past, Grushnitski has ceased to bow to me, and today he has looked at me rather insolently

once or twice. It will all be remem bered to him when we come to settle our scores.

It was dark outside, pitch dark. Cold, heavy clouds were lying on the summit of the surround ing mountains,

and only at rare intervals did the dying breeze rustle the tops of the poplars which surrounded the restaurant.

People were crowd ing at the windows. I went down the mountain and, turning in under the gate, I hastened

my pace. Suddenly it seemed to me that somebody was following my steps. I stopped and looked round. It

was impossible to make out anything in the darkness. However, out of caution, I walked round the house, as

if taking a stroll. Passing Princess Mary's windows, I again heard steps behind me; a man wrapped in a cloak

ran by me. That rendered me uneasy, but I crept up to the flight of steps, and hastily mounted the dark

"Now do you believe that I love you? Oh! I have long hesitated, long tortured myself. . . But you can do

Her heart was beating violently, her hands were cold as ice. She broke out into complaints and jealous

reproaches. She demanded that I should confess everything to her, saying that she would bear my

faithlessness with submission, because her sole desire was that I should be happy. I did not quite believe that,

"So you will not marry Mary? You do not love her? . . . But she thinks. . . Do you know, she is madly in love

About two o'clock in the morning I opened the window and, tying two shawls together, I let my self down

from the upper balcony to the lower, holding on by the pillar. A light was still burn ing in Princess Mary's

room. Something drew me towards that window. The curtain was not quite drawn, and I was able to cast a

curious glance into the interior of the room. Mary was sitting on her bed, her hands crossed upon her knees;

her thick hair was gathered up under a lacefrilled nightcap; her white shoulders were covered by a large

crimson kerchief, and her little feet were hidden in a pair of manycoloured Persian slippers. She was sitting

quite still, her head sunk upon her breast; on a little table in front of her was an open book; but her eyes, fixed

and full of inexpressible grief, seemed for the hundredth time to be skimming the same page whilst her

At that moment somebody stirred behind a shrub. I leaped from the balcony on to the sward. An invisible

"Aha!" said a rough voice: "caught! . . . I'll teach you to be entering princesses' rooms at night!"

I struck the latter on the head with my fist, knocked him off his feet, and darted into the bushes. All the paths

Within a minute I was in my own room, undressed and in bed. My manservant had only just locked the door

They went away. I had gained no useful pur pose by answering them: they would have been looking for me

Meanwhile the alarm became terrific. A Cossack galloped up from the fortress. The com motion was

general; Circassians were looked for in every shrub and of course none were found. Probably, however, a

good many people were left with the firm conviction that, if only more courage and despatch had been shown

by the garrison, at least a score of brigands would have failed to get away with their lives.

THIS morning, at the well, the sole topic of conversation was the nocturnal attack by the Circassians. I drank

the appointed number of glasses of Narzan water, and, after sauntering a few times about the long linden

avenue, I met Vera's husband, who had just arrived from Pyati gorsk. He took my arm and we went to the

"What a terrible fright she had last night," he said. "Of course, it was bound to happen just at the very time

We sat down to breakfast near the door leading into a cornerroom in which about a dozen young men were

sitting. Grushnitski was amongst them. For the second time destiny provided me with the opportunity of

overhearing a conversation which was to decide his fate. He did not see me, and, consequently, it was

impossible for me to suspect him of design; but that only magnified his fault in my eyes.

"Is it possible, though, that they were really Circassians?" somebody said. "Did anyone see them?"

"I will tell you the whole truth," answered Grushnitski: "only please do not betray me. This is how it was:

yesterday, a certain man, whose name I will not tell you, came up to me and told me that, at ten o'clock in the

evening, he had seen somebody creeping into the Ligovskis' house. I must observe that Princess Ligovski was

here, and Princess Mary at home. So he and I set off to wait beneath the windows and waylay the lucky man."

I confess I was frightened, although my com panion was very busily engaged with his break fast: he might

have heard things which he would have found rather displeasing, if Grushnitski had happened to guess the

"So, do you see?" Grushnitski continued. "We set off, taking with us a gun, loaded with blank cartridge, so as

just to give him a fright. We waited in the garden till two o'clock. At length goodness knows, indeed,

where he ap peared from, but he must have come out by the glass door which is behind the pillar; it was not

out of the window that he came, because the window had remained unopened at length, I say, we saw

someone getting down from the balcony. . . What do you think of Princess Mary eh? Well, I admit, it is

hardly what you might expect from Moscow ladies! After that what can you believe? We were going to seize

him, but he broke away and darted like a hare into the shrubs. Thereupon I fired at him."

"You do not believe it?" he continued. "I give you my word of honour as a gentleman that it is all perfectly

At that moment he raised his eyes I was stand ing in the doorway opposite to him. He grew terribly red. I

"I am very sorry that I did not come in before you had given your word of honour in confirma tion of a most

abominable calumny: my presence would have saved you from that further act of baseness."

"I beg you," I continued in the same tone: "I beg you at once to retract what you have said; you know very

well that it is all an inven tion. I do not think that a woman's indifference to your brilliant merits should

deserve so terrible a revenge. Bethink you well: if you maintain your present attitude, you will lose the right

Grushnitski stood before me in violent agita tion, his eyes cast down. But the struggle be tween his

conscience and his vanity was of short duration. The captain of dragoons, who was sit ting beside him,

nudged him with his elbow. Grushnitski started, and answered rapidly, with out raising his eyes:

"My dear sir, what I say, I mean, and I am prepared to repeat. . . I am not afraid of your menaces and am

"The latter you have already proved," I an swered coldly; and, taking the captain of dra goons by the arm, I

"Moreover, I am bound to be his second, because the insult offered to him touches myself also. I was with

He turned yellow in the face, then blue; sup pressed rage was portrayed upon his counte nance.

"I shall have the honour to send my second to you today," I added, bowing adieu to him very politely,

On the restaurantsteps I met Vera's husband. Apparently he had been waiting for me.

"Noble young man!" he said, with tears in his eyes. "I have heard everything. What a scoun drel! Ingrate! . .

. Just fancy such people being admitted into a decent household after this! Thank God I have no daughters!

But she for whom you are risking your life will reward you. Be assured of my constant discretion," he

continued. "I have been young myself and have served in the army: I know that these affairs must take their

I went straight to Werner, found him at home, and told him the whole story my relations with Vera and

Princess Mary, and the conversation which I had overheard and from which I had learned the intention of

these gentlemen to make a fool of me by causing me to fight a duel with blank cartridges. But, now, the affair

had gone beyond the bounds of jest; they probably had not expected that it would turn out like this.

The doctor consented to be my second; I gave him a few directions with regard to the condi tions of the

duel. He was to insist upon the affair being managed with all possible secrecy, be cause, although I am

prepared, at any moment, to face death, I am not in the least disposed to spoil for all time my future in this

After that I went home. In an hour's time the doctor returned from his expedition.

"There is indeed a conspiracy against you," he said. "I found the captain of dragoons at Grush nitski's,

together with another gentleman whose surname I do not remember. I stopped a moment in the anteroom, in

order to take off my goloshes. They were squabbling and making a terrible up roar. '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 all upon myself. I have been second in five

duels, and I should think I know how to arrange the affair. I have thought it all out. Just let me alone, please.

It is not a bad thing to give people a bit of a fright. And why expose yourself to danger if it is possible to

"At that moment I entered the room. They suddenly fell silent. Our negotiations were some what protracted.

At length we decided the matter as follows: about five versts from here there is a hollow gorge; they will ride

thither to morrow at four o'clock in the morning, and we shall leave half an hour later. You will fire at six

paces Grushnitski himself demanded that con dition. Whichever of you is killed his death will be put

down to the account of the Circas sians. And now I must tell you what I suspect: they, that is to say the

seconds, may have made some change in their former plan and may want to load only Grushnitski's pistol.

That is some thing like murder, but in time of war, and espe cially in Asiatic warfare, such tricks are

allowed. Grushnitski, however, seems to be a little more magnanimous than his companions. What do you

"Doctor, I shall expect you tomorrow at four o'clock. The horses will be ready . . . Good bye."

I remained in the house until the evening, with my door locked. A manservant came to invite me to Princess

Two o'clock in the morning. . . I cannot sleep. . . Yet sleep is what I need, if I am to have a steady hand

tomorrow. However, at six paces it is difficult to miss. Aha! Mr. Grushnit ski, your wiles will not succeed!

. . . We shall exchange roles: now it is I who shall have to seek the signs of latent terror upon your pallid

countenance. Why have you yourself appointed these fatal six paces? Think you that I will tamely expose my

No, we shall cast lots. . . And then then what if his luck should prevail? If my star at length should

betray me? . . . And little wonder if it did: it has so long and faithfully served my caprices.

Well? If I must die, I must! The loss to the world will not be great; and I myself am already downright weary

of everything. I am like a guest at a ball, who yawns but does not go home to bed, simply because his carriage

My whole past life I live again in memory, and, involuntarily, I ask myself: 'why have I lived for what

purpose was I born?' . . . A purpose there must have been, and, surely, mine was an exalted destiny, because I

feel that within my soul are powers immeasurable. . . But I was not able to discover that destiny, I allowed

myself to be carried away by the allurements of passions, inane and ignoble. From their crucible I issued hard

and cold as iron, but gone for ever was the glow of noble aspirations the fairest flower of life. And, from

that time forth, how often have I not played the part of an axe in the hands of fate! Like an implement of

punishment, I have fallen upon the head of doomed victims, often without malice, always without pity. . . To

none has my love brought happiness, because I have never sacrificed anything for the sake of those I have

loved: for myself alone I have loved for my own pleasure. I have only satisfied the strange craving of my

heart, greedily draining their feelings, their tenderness, their joys, their sufferings and I have never been

able to sate myself. I am like one who, spent with hunger, falls asleep in exhaustion and sees before him

sumptuous viands and sparkling wines; he de vours with rapture the aerial gifts of the imagina tion, and his

pains seem somewhat assuaged. Let him but awake: the vision vanishes twofold hunger and despair

And tomorrow, it may be, I shall die! . . . And there will not be left on earth one being who has understood

me completely. Some will con sider me worse, others, better, than I have been in reality. . . Some will say:

'he was a good fellow'; others: 'a villain.' And both epithets will be false. After all this, is life worth the

trouble? And yet we live out of curiosity! We expect something new. . . How absurd, and yet how

Maksim Maksimych is out hunting. . . I am alone. I am sitting by the window. Grey clouds have covered the

mountains to the foot; the sun appears through the mist as a yellow spot. It is cold; the wind is whistling and

rocking the shutters. . . I am bored! . . . I will continue my diary which has been interrupted by so many

I read the last page over: how ridiculous it seems! . . . I thought to die; it was not to be. I have not yet drained

How clearly and how sharply have all these bygone events been stamped upon my memory! Time has not

I remember that during the night preceding the duel I did not sleep a single moment. I was not able to write

for long: a secret uneasiness took possession of me. For about an hour I paced the room, then I sat down and

opened a novel by Walter Scott which was lying on my table. It was "The Scottish Puritans."[1] At first I read

with an effort; then, carried away by the magical fiction, I became oblivious of every thing else.

[1] None of the Waverley novels, of course, bears this title. The novel referred to is doubtless "Old

At last day broke. My nerves became com posed. I looked in the glass: a dull pallor covered my face, which

preserved the traces of harassing sleeplessness; but my eyes, although encircled by a brownish shadow,

I ordered the horses to be saddled, dressed my self, and ran down to the baths. Plunging into the cold,

sparkling water of the Narzan Spring, I felt my bodily and mental powers returning. I left the baths as fresh

and hearty as if I was off to a ball. After that, who shall say that the soul is not dependent upon the body! . . .

On my return, I found the doctor at my rooms. He was wearing grey ridingbreeches, a jacket and a

Circassian cap. I burst out laughing when I saw that little figure under the enormous shaggy cap. Werner has

a by no means warlike counte nance, and on that occasion it was even longer than usual.

"Why so sad, doctor?" I said to him. "Have you not a hundred times, with the greatest indifference, escorted

people to the other world? Imagine that I have a bilious fever: I may get well; also, I may die; both are in the

usual course of things. Try to look on me as a patient, afflicted with an illness with which you are still

unfamiliar and then your curiosity will be aroused in the highest degree. You can now make a few

important physiological observations upon me. . . Is not the expectation of a violent death itself a real

We mounted our horses. Werner clung on to his bridle with both hands, and we set off. In a trice we had

galloped past the fortress, through the village, and had ridden into the gorge. Our winding road was

halfovergrown with tall grass and was intersected every moment by a noisy brook, which we had to ford, to

the great despair of the doctor, because each time his horse would stop in the water.

A morning more fresh and blue I cannot remember! The sun had scarce shown his face from behind the green

summits, and the blending of the first warmth of his rays with the dying coolness of the night produced on all

my feelings a sort of sweet languor. The joyous beam of the young day had not yet penetrated the gorge; it

gilded only the tops of the cliffs which overhung us on both sides. The tufted shrubs, growing in the deep

crevices of the cliffs, besprinkled us with a silver shower at the least breath of wind. I remember that on that

occasion I loved Nature more than ever before. With what curiosity did I examine every dewdrop trembling

upon the broad vine leaf and reflecting millions of rainbow hued rays! How eagerly did my glance en

deavour to penetrate the smoky distance! There the road grew narrower and narrower, the cliffs bluer and

"Is it possible that you have no friends, to whom you would like to send a last farewell?" . . .

"Is there, really, not one woman in the world to whom you would like to leave some token in remembrance?"

"Do you want me to reveal my soul to you, doctor?" I answered. . . "You see, I have outlived the years when

people die with the name of the beloved on their lips and bequeathing to a friend a lock of pomaded or

unpomaded hair. When I think that death may be near, I think of myself alone; others do not even do as

much. The friends who tomorrow will forget me or, worse, will utter goodness knows what falsehoods

about me; the women who, while embracing another, will laugh at me in order not to arouse his jealousy of

the deceased let them go! Out of the storm of life I have borne away only a few ideas and not one

feeling. For a long time now I have been living, not with my heart, but with my head. I weigh, analyse my

own passions and actions with severe curiosity, but without sympathy. There are two personalities within me:

one lives in the complete sense of the word the other reflects and judges him; the first, it may be, in an

hour's time, will take fare well of you and the world for ever, and the second the second? . . . Look,

doctor, do you see those three black figures on the cliff, to the right? They are our antagonists, I suppose?" . .

In the bushes at the foot of the cliff three horses were tethered; we tethered ours there too, and then we

clambered up the narrow path to the ledge on which Grushnitski was awaiting us in company with the captain

of dragoons and his other second, whom they called Ivan Ignate vich. His surname I never heard.

"We have been expecting you for quite a long time," said the captain of dragoons, with an ironical smile.

There was an embarrassing silence for a few moments. At length the doctor inter rupted it.

"It seems to me," he said, turning to Grush nitski, "that as you have both shown your readi ness to fight,

and thereby paid the debt due to the conditions of honour, you might be able to come to an explanation and

The captain winked to Grushnitski, and the latter, thinking that I was losing courage, assumed a haughty air,

although, until that moment, his cheeks had been covered with a dull pallor. For the first time since our

arrival he lifted his eyes on me; but in his glance there was a certain disquietude which evinced an inward

"Declare your conditions," he said, "and anything I can do for you, be assured" . . .

"These are my conditions: you will this very day publicly recant your slander and beg my pardon" . . .

The captain took his arm and led him aside; they whispered together for a long time. I had arrived in a fairly

"Listen," he said, with manifest uneasiness, "you have surely forgotten their conspiracy! . . . I do not know

how to load a pistol, but in this case. . . You are a strange man! Tell them that you know their intention

"Please do not be uneasy, doctor, and wait awhile. . . I shall arrange everything in such a way that there will

"Gentlemen, this is becoming tedious," I said to them loudly: "if we are to fight, let us fight; you had time

"We are ready," answered the captain. "Take your places, gentlemen! Doctor, be good enough to measure six

"Excuse me!" I said. "One further con dition. As we are going to fight to the death, we are bound to do

everything possible in order that the affair may remain a secret, and that our seconds may incur no

"Well, then, this is my idea. Do you see that narrow ledge on the top of the perpendicular cliff on the right? It

must be thirty fathoms, if not more, from there to the bottom; and, down below, there are sharp rocks. Each of

us will stand right at the extremity of the ledge in such manner even a slight wound will be mortal: that

ought to be in accordance with your desire, as you yourselves have fixed upon six paces. Which ever of us

is wounded will be certain to fall down and be dashed to pieces; the doctor will extract the bullet, and, then, it

will be possible very easily to account for that sudden death by saying it was the result of a fall. Let us cast

lots to decide who shall fire first. In conclusion, I declare that I will not fight on any other terms."

"Be it so!" said the captain after an expres sive glance at Grushnitski, who nodded his head in token of

assent. Every moment he was changing countenance. I had placed him in an embarrassing position. Had the

duel been fought upon the usual conditions, he could have aimed at my leg, wounded me slightly, and in such

wise gratified his vengeance without overburdening his conscience. But now he was obliged to fire in the air,

or to make himself an assassin, or, finally, to abandon his base plan and to expose himself to equal danger

with me. I should not have liked to be in his place at that moment. He took the captain aside and said

something to him with great warmth. His lips were blue, and I saw them trembling; but the captain turned

"You are a fool," he said to Grushnitski rather loudly. "You can't understand a thing! . . . Let us be off, then,

The precipice was approached by a narrow path between bushes, and fragments of rock formed the precarious

steps of that natural stair case. Clinging to the bushes we proceeded to clamber up. Grushnitski went in

"I am surprised at you," said the doctor, pressing my hand vigorously. "Let me feel your pulse! . . . Oho!

Feverish! . . . But nothing noticeable on your countenance . . . only your eyes are gleaming more brightly than

Suddenly small stones rolled noisily right under our feet. What was it? Grushnitski had stumbled; the branch

to which he was clinging had broken off, and he would have rolled down on his back if his seconds had not

"Take care!" I cried. "Do not fall pre maturely: that is a bad sign. Remember Julius Caesar!"

AND now we had climbed to the summit of the projecting cliff. The ledge was covered with fine sand, as if

on purpose for a duel. All around, like an innumerable herd, crowded the mountains, their summits lost to

view in the golden mist of the morning; and towards the south rose the white mass of Elbruz, closing the

chain of icy peaks, among which fibrous clouds, which had rushed in from the east, were already roaming. I

walked to the extremity of the ledge and gazed down. My head nearly swam. At the foot of the precipice all

seemed dark and cold as in a tomb; the mossgrown jags of the rocks, hurled down by storm and time, were

The ledge on which we were to fight formed an almost regular triangle. Six paces were mea sured from the

projecting corner, and it was de cided that whichever had first to meet the fire of his opponent should stand

in the very corner with his back to the precipice; if he was not killed the adversaries would change places.

I determined to relinquish every advantage to Grushnitski; I wanted to test him. A spark of magnanimity

might awake in his soul and then all would have been settled for the best. But his vanity and weakness of

character had perforce to triumph! . . . I wished to give myself the full right to refrain from sparing him if

destiny were to favour me. Who would not have concluded such an agreement with his conscience?

"Tail!" cried Grushnitski hurriedly, like a man suddenly aroused by a friendly nudge.

"You are lucky," I said to Grushnitski. "You are to fire first! But remember that if you do not kill me I shall

He flushed up; he was ashamed to kill an un armed man. I looked at him fixedly; for a moment it seemed to

me that he would throw himself at my feet, imploring forgiveness; but how to confess so base a plot? . . . One

expe dient only was left to him to fire in the air! I was convinced that he would fire in the air! One

consideration alone might prevent him doing so the thought that I would demand a second duel.

"Now is the time!" the doctor whispered to me, plucking me by the sleeve. "If you do not tell them now that

we know their intentions, all is lost. Look, he is loading already. . . If you will not say anything, I will" . . .

"On no account, doctor!" I answered, hold ing him back by the arm. "You will spoil every thing. You have

given me your word not to interfere. . . What does it matter to you? Perhaps I wish to be killed" . . .

"Oh, that is another thing! . . . Only do not complain of me in the other world" . . .

Meanwhile the captain had loaded his pistols and given one to Grushnitski, after whispering something to

I placed myself in the corner of the ledge, plant ing my left foot firmly against the rock and bend ing

slightly forward, so that, in case of a slight wound, I might not fall over backwards.

Grushnitski placed himself opposite me and, at a given signal, began to raise his pistol. His knees shook. He

aimed right at my forehead. . . Un utterable fury began to seethe within my breast.

Suddenly he dropped the muzzle of the pistol and, pale as a sheet, turned to his second.

A shot rang out. The bullet grazed my knee. Involuntarily I took a few paces forward in order to get away

"Well, my dear Grushnitski, it is a pity that you have missed!" said the captain. "Now it is your turn, take

"Do not be afraid," he added, glancing cun ningly at Grushnitski; "everything in this world is nonsense. . .

[1] Popular phrases, equivalent to: "Men are fools, fortune is blind, and life is not worth a straw."

After that tragic phrase, uttered with becoming gravity, he went back to his place. Ivan Ignate vich, with

tears, also embraced Grushnitski, and there the latter remained alone, facing me. Ever since then, I have been

trying to explain to myself what sort of feeling it was that was boiling within my breast at that moment: it

was the vexation of injured vanity, and contempt, and wrath en gendered at the thought that the man now

look ing at me with such confidence, such quiet inso lence, had, two minutes before, been about to kill me

like a dog, without exposing himself to the least danger, because had I been wounded a little more severely in

For a few moments I looked him fixedly in the face, trying to discern thereon even a slight trace of

"Do not worry about my soul any more than your own. One thing I beg of you: be quick about firing."

"And you do not recant your slander? You do not beg my forgiveness? . . . Bethink you well: has your

"Mr. Pechorin!" exclaimed the captain of dragoons. "Allow me to point out that you are not here to preach. . .

Let us lose no time, in case anyone should ride through the gorge and we should be seen."

The doctor came up to me. Poor doctor! He was paler than Grushnitski had been ten minutes before.

The words which followed I purposely pro nounced with a pause between each loudly and distinctly, as

"Doctor, these gentlemen have forgotten, in their hurry, no doubt, to put a bullet in my pistol. I beg you to

"Impossible!" cried the captain, "impossible! I loaded both pistols. Perhaps the bullet has rolled out of yours.

. . That is not my fault! And you have no right to load again. . . No right at all. It is altogether against the

"Very well!" I said to the captain. "If so, then you and I shall fight on the same terms" . . .

"Let them be!" he said at length to the cap tain, who was going to pull my pistol out of the doctor's hands.

Meanwhile the doctor had loaded the pistol and handed it to me. On seeing that, the captain spat and stamped

"You are a fool, then, my friend," he said: "a common fool! . . . You trusted to me before, so you should obey

"Grushnitski!" I said. "There is still time: recant your slander, and I will forgive you every thing. You have

not succeeded in making a fool of me; my selfesteem is satisfied. Remem ber we were once friends" . .

"Fire!" he answered. "I despise myself and I hate you. If you do not kill me I will lie in wait for you some

When the smoke had cleared away, Grushnitski was not to be seen on the ledge. Only a slender column of

AS I descended by the path, I observed Grush nitski's bloodstained corpse between the clefts of the rocks.

Untying my horse, I set off home at a walking pace. A stone lay upon my heart. To my eyes the sun seemed

I did not ride up to the village, but turned to the right, along the gorge. The sight of a man would have been

painful to me: I wanted to be alone. Throwing down the bridle and letting my head fall on my breast, I rode

for a long time, and at length found myself in a spot with which I was wholly unfamiliar. I turned my horse

back and began to search for the road. The sun had al ready set by the time I had ridden up to Kislo vodsk

My servant told me that Werner had called, and he handed me two notes: one from Werner, the other . . .

"Everything has been arranged as well as could be; the mutilated body has been brought in; and the bullet

extracted from the breast. Every body is convinced that the cause of death was an unfortunate accident; only

the Commandant, who was doubtless aware of your quarrel, shook his head, but he said nothing. There are no

proofs at all against you, and you may sleep in peace . . . if you can. . . . Farewell!" . . .

For a long time I could not make up my mind to open the second note. . . What could it be that she was

Here it is, that letter, each word of which is indelibly engraved upon my memory:

"I am writing to you in the full assurance that we shall never see each other again. A few years ago on parting

with you I thought the same. However, it has been Heaven's will to try me a second time: I have not been able

to endure the trial, my frail heart has again submitted to the wellknown voice. . . You will not despise me

for that will you? This letter will be at once a farewell and a confession: I am obliged to tell you

everything that has been treasured up in my heart since it began to love you. I will not accuse you you

have acted towards me as any other man would have acted; you have loved me as a chattel, as a source of

joys, disquietudes and griefs, interchanging one with the other, without which life would be dull and

monotonous. I have understood all that from the first. . . But you were unhappy, and I have sacrificed myself,

hoping that, some time, you would appreciate my sacrifice, that some time you would understand my deep

tenderness, unfettered by any condi tions. A long time has elapsed since then: I have fathomed all the

secrets of your soul. . . and I have convinced myself that my hope was vain. It has been a bitter blow to me!

But my love has been grafted with my soul; it has grown dark, but has not been extinguished.

"We are parting for ever; yet you may be sure that I shall never love another. Upon you my soul has

exhausted all its treasures, its tears, its hopes. She who has once loved you cannot look without a certain

disdain upon other men, not because you have been better than they, oh, no! but in your nature there is

something pecu liar belonging to you alone, something proud and mysterious; in your voice, whatever

the words spoken, there is an invincible power. No one can so constantly wish to be loved, in no one is

wickedness ever so attractive, no one's glance promises so much bliss, no one can better make use of his

advantages, and no one can be so truly unhappy as you, because no one endeavours so earnestly to convince

"Now I must explain the cause of my hurried departure; it will seem of little importance to you, because it

"This morning my husband came in and told me about your quarrel with Grushnitski. Evi dently I changed

countenance greatly, because he looked me in the face long and intently. I almost fainted at the thought that

you had to fight a duel today, and that I was the cause of it; it seemed to me that I should go mad. . . But

now, when I am able to reason, I am sure that you remain alive: it is impossible that you should die, and I not

with you impossible! My hus band walked about the room for a long time. I do not know what he said to

me, I do not remem ber what I answered. . . Most likely I told him that I loved you. . . I only remember that,

at the end of our conversation, he insulted me with a dreadful word and left the room. I heard him ordering

the carriage. . . I have been sitting at the window three hours now, awaiting your re turn. . . But you are

alive, you cannot have died! . . . The carriage is almost ready. . . Goodbye, goodbye! . . . I have perished

but what matter? If I could be sure that you will always remember me I no longer say love no, only

"You do not love Mary, do you? You will not marry her? Listen, you must offer me that sacrifice. I have lost

Like a madman I sprang on the steps, jumped on my Circassian horse which was being led about the

courtyard, and set off at full gallop along the road to Pyatigorsk. Unsparingly I urged on the jaded horse,

The sun had already disappeared behind a black cloud, which had been resting on the ridge of the western

mountains; the gorge grew dark and damp. The Podkumok, forcing its way over the rocks, roared with a

hollow and monotonous sound. I galloped on, choking with impatience. The idea of not finding Vera in

Pyatigorsk struck my heart like a hammer. For one minute, again to see her for one minute, to say farewell, to

press her hand. . . I prayed, cursed, wept, laughed. . . No, nothing could express my anxiety, my despair! . . .

Now that it seemed possible that I might be about to lose her for ever, Vera became dearer to me than aught

in the world dearer than life, honour, happiness! God knows what strange, what mad plans swarmed in my

head. . . Meanwhile I still galloped, urging on my horse without pity. And, now, I began to notice that he was

breathing more heavily; he had already stumbled once or twice on level ground. . . I was five versts from

All would have been saved had my horse been able to hold out for another ten minutes. But suddenly, in

lifting himself out of a little gulley where the road emerges from the mountains at a sharp turn, he fell to the

ground. I jumped down promptly, I tried to lift him up, I tugged at his bridle in vain. A scarcely audible

moan burst through his clenched teeth; in a few moments he expired. I was left on the steppe, alone; I had lost

my last hope. I endeavoured to walk my legs sank under me; exhausted by the anxieties of the day and by

For a long time I lay motionless and wept bitterly, without attempting to restrain my tears and sobs. I thought

my breast would burst. All my firmness, all my coolness, disappeared like smoke; my soul grew powerless,

my reason silent, and, if anyone had seen me at that moment, he would have turned aside with contempt.

When the nightdew and the mountain breeze had cooled my burning brow, and my thoughts had resumed

their usual course, I realized that to pursue my perished happiness would be unavail ing and unreasonable.

What more did I want? To see her? Why? Was not all over between us? A single, bitter, farewell kiss

would not have enriched my recollections, and, after it, parting would only have been more difficult for us.

Still, I am pleased that I can weep. Perhaps, however, the cause of that was my shattered nerves, a night

passed without sleep, two minutes opposite the muzzle of a pistol, and an empty stomach.

It is all for the best. That new suffering created within me a fortunate diversion to speak in military style.

To weep is healthy, and then, no doubt, if I had not ridden as I did and had not been obliged to walk fifteen

versts on my way back, sleep would not have closed my eyes on that night either.

I returned to Kislovodsk at five o'clock in the morning, threw myself on my bed, and slept the sleep of

By the time I awoke it was dark outside. I sat by the open window, with my jacket unbuttoned and the

mountain breeze cooled my breast, still troubled by the heavy sleep of weariness. In the distance beyond the

river, through the tops of the thick lime trees which overshadowed it, lights were glancing in the fortress and

the vil lage. Close at hand all was calm. It was dark in Princess Ligovski's house.

The doctor entered; his brows were knit; contrary to custom, he did not offer me his hand.

"From Princess Ligovski's; her daughter is ill nervous exhaustion. . . That is not the point, though. This is

what I have come to tell you: the authorities are suspicious, and, although it is impossible to prove anything

positively, I should, all the same, advise you to be cautious. Princess Ligovski told me today that she knew

that you fought a duel on her daughter's account. That little old man what's his name? has told her

everything. He was a witness of your quarrel with Grushnitski in the restaurant. I have come to warn you.

He stopped on the threshold; he would gladly have pressed my hand . . . and, had I shown the slightest desire

to embrace him, he would have thrown himself upon my neck; but I remained cold as a rock and he left

That is just like men! They are all the same: they know beforehand all the bad points of an act, they help, they

advise, they even encourage it, seeing the impossibility of any other expedient and then they wash their

hands of the whole affair and turn away with indignation from him who has had the courage to take the whole

burden of responsibility upon himself. They are all like that, even the bestnatured, the wisest. . .

NEXT morning, having received orders from the supreme authority to betake myself to the N Fortress, I

She was surprised when, in answer to her ques tion, whether I had not anything of special im portance to

It was clear that she did not know how to begin; her face grew livid, she tapped the table with her plump

"Nay, I am sure of it," she continued, "al though your behaviour is somewhat equivocal, but you may have

reasons which I do not know; and you must now confide them to me. You have protected my daughter from

slander, you have fought a duel on her behalf consequently you have risked your life. . . Do not answer. I

know that you will not acknowledge it because Grushnitski has been killed" she crossed herself. "God

forgive him and you too, I hope. . . That does not concern me. . . I dare not con demn you because my

daughter, although inno cently, has been the cause. She has told me everything . . . everything, I think. You

have declared your love for her. . . She has admitted hers to you." Here Princess Ligovski sighed heavily.

"But she is ill, and I am certain that it is no simple illness! Secret grief is killing her; she will not confess,

but I am convinced that you are the cause of it. . . Listen: you think, per haps, that I am looking for rank or

immense wealth be undeceived, my daughter's happiness is my sole desire. Your present position is un

enviable, but it may be bettered: you have means; my daughter loves you; she has been brought up in such a

way that she will make her husband a happy man. I am wealthy, she is my only child. . . Tell me, what is

keeping you back? . . . You see, I ought not to be saying all this to you, but I rely upon your heart, upon your

"Princess," I said, "it is impossible for me to answer you; allow me to speak to your daughter, alone" . . .

She fell into thought, made a sign to me with her hand that I should wait a little, and left the room.

Five minutes passed. My heart was beating violently, but my thoughts were tranquil, my head cool. However

assiduously I sought in my breast for even a spark of love for the charming Mary, my efforts were of no

Then the door opened, and she entered. Heavens! How she had changed since I had last seen her and that

When she reached the middle of the room, she staggered. I jumped up, gave her my arm, and led her to a

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 some thing resembling hope; her wan lips vainly en deavoured to smile; her tender

hands, which were folded upon her knees, were so thin and transparent that I pitied her.

"Princess," I said, "you know that I have been making fun of you? . . . You must despise me."

She turned her head away, leaned her elbows on the table, covered her eyes with her hand, and it seemed to

The situation was growing intolerable. Another minute and I should have fallen 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 with

your mother has compelled me to explain myself to you so frankly and so brutally. I hope that she is under a

delusion: it will be easy for you to undeceive her. You see, I am playing a most pitiful and ugly role in your

eyes, and I even admit it that is the utmost I can do for your sake. However bad an opinion you may

entertain of me, I submit to it. . . You see that I am base in your sight, am I not? . . . Is it not true that, even if

She turned round to me. She was pale as marble, but her eyes were sparkling wondrously.

An hour afterwards a postal express was bearing me rapidly from Kislovodsk. A few versts from Essentuki I

recognized near the roadway the body of my spirited horse. The saddle had been taken off, no doubt by a

passing Cossack, and, in its place, two ravens were sitting on the horse's back. I sighed and turned away. . .

And now, here in this wearisome fortress, I often ask myself, as my thoughts wander back to the past: why

did I not wish to tread that way, thrown open by destiny, where soft joys and ease of soul were awaiting me? .

. . No, I could never have become habituated to such a fate! I am like a sailor born and bred on the deck of a

pirate brig: his soul has grown accustomed to storms and battles; but, once let him be case upon the shore,

and he chafes, he pines away, however invitingly the shady groves allure, how ever brightly shines the

peaceful sun. The live long day he paces the sandy shore, hearkens to the monotonous murmur of the

onrushing waves, and gazes into the misty distance: lo! yonder, upon the pale line dividing the blue deep

from the grey clouds, is there not glancing the longedfor sail, at first like the wing of a seagull, but little by

little severing itself from the foam of the billows and, with even course, drawing nigh to the desert harbour?

THE preface to a book serves the double purpose of prologue and epilogue. It affords the author an

opportunity of explaining the object of the work, or of vindicating himself and replying to his critics. As a

rule, however, the reader is concerned neither with the moral purpose of the book nor with the attacks of the

Reviewers, and so the preface remains unread. Nevertheless, this is a pity, especially with us Russians! The

public of this country is so youth ful, not to say simpleminded, that it cannot understand the meaning of a

fable unless the moral is set forth at the end. Unable to see a joke, insensible to irony, it has, in a word, been

badly brought up. It has not yet learned that in a decent book, as in decent society, open invective can have no

place; that our presentday civilisa tion has invented a keener weapon, none the less deadly for being almost

invisible, which, under the cloak of flattery, strikes with sure and irre sistible effect. The Russian public is

like a simpleminded person from the country who, chancing to overhear a conversation between two

diplomatists belonging to hostile courts, comes away with the conviction that each of them has been

deceiving his Government in the interest of a most affectionate private friendship.

The unfortunate effects of an overliteral accep tation of words by certain readers and even Re viewers

have recently been manifested in regard to the present book. Many of its readers have been dreadfully, and in

all seriousness, shocked to find such an immoral man as Pechorin set before them as an example. Others have

observed, with much acumen, that the author has painted his own portrait and those of his acquaint ances! . .

. What a stale and wretched jest! But Russia, it appears, has been constituted in such a way that absurdities of

this kind will never be eradicated. It is doubtful whether, in this country, the most ethereal of fairytales

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, full grown, amongst the present generation. You will tell me, as you have told me

before, that no man can be so bad as this; and my reply will be: "If you believe that such persons as the

villains of tragedy and romance could exist in real life, why can you not believe in the reality of Pechorin? If

you admire fic tions much more terrible and monstrous, why is it that this character, even if regarded merely

as a creature of the imagination, cannot obtain quarter at your hands? Is it not because there is more truth in it

You will say that the cause of morality gains nothing by this book. I beg your pardon. People have been

surfeited with sweetmeats and their digestion has been ruined: bitter medicines, sharp truths, are therefore

necessary. This must not, however, be taken to mean that the author has ever proudly dreamed of becoming a

reformer of human vices. Heaven keep him from such im pertinence! He has simply found it entertaining to

depict a man, such as he considers to be typical of the present day and such as he has often met in real life

too often, indeed, unfortunately both for the author himself and for you. Suffice it that the disease has been