A Hero of Our Time, page 13
"You have nothing to say?" she continued. "Perhaps you wish me to be the first to say that I love you?"
I was silent.
"Do you want me to do that?" she went on, swiftly turning toward me. There was something awe-inspiring in the earnestness of her eyes and voice.
"Why should I?" I replied, shrugging my shoulders.
She struck her horse with her riding stick and set off at full gallop along the narrow, dangerous road. It all happened so quickly that I was hardly able to overtake her, and did so only when she had already joined the rest of the company. All the way home she talked and laughed incessantly. There was a feverishness in her movements, and not once did she look at me. Everybody noticed this unusual gaiety. Princess Ligovskaya rejoiced inwardly as she watched her daughter, but her daughter was merely suffering a fit of nerves and would spend a sleepless night crying. The very thought gives me infinite pleasure. There are moments when I understand the Vampire...[106] And yet I have the reputation of being a good fellow and try to live up to it!
Having got down from the horses, the ladies went in to Princess Ligovskaya's. I was agitated and galloped into the hills to get rid of the thoughts that crowded into my mind. The dewy evening breathed a delicious coolness. The moon was rising from behind the darkly looming mountains. Every step my unshod horse took echoed dully in the silence of the gorges. I watered my horse at a waterfall, eagerly drank in a few breaths of the invigorating air of the southern night, and retraced my steps. I rode through the settlement. Lights were going out in the windows; sentries on the ramparts of the fort and Cossack pickets on the outposts yelled to each other on a sustained note.
I noticed that one of the houses in the village which had been built on the brink of a gully was unusually brightly lit, and every now and then I could hear a babble of voices and shouting which meant a military carousal. I dismounted and crept up to the window. A loose shutter made it possible for me to see the revelers and overhear what they were saying. They were talking about me.
The captain of dragoons, red-faced with wine, pounded the table with his fist to command attention.
"Gentlemen!" he said. "This won't do at all. Pechorin must be taught a lesson. These Petersburg upstarts get uppity until they're rapped on the knuckles! Just because he always wears clean gloves and shiny boots he thinks he's the only society man around."
"And that supercilious smile of his! Yet I'm certain he's a coward-yes, a coward!"
"I believe so too," said Grushnitsky. "He turns everything into a joke. Once I told him off in such terms that another man would have cut me down on the spot, but Pechorin just laughed it off. I, of course, didn't challenge him, because it was up to him to do so; besides I didn't want the bother..."
"Grushnitsky has it in for him because he got ahead of him with the young princess," said someone.
"What nonsense! True, I did run after the princess a bit, but I gave it up soon enough because I have no desire to marry and I do not believe in compromising a girl."
"Yes, I assure you he is a coward of the first water-Pechorin, I mean, not Grushnitsky. Grushnitsky is a fine man and a good friend of mine to boot!" said the captain of dragoons. "Gentlemen! Does anyone here want to stand up for him? No one? All the better! Do you wish to test his courage? It will be amusing…"
"Yes, we do. But how?"
"Now listen to me: since Grushnitsky's grievance is the biggest, his will be the leading role. He will take exception to some trifle and challenge Pechorin to a duel... Wait, this is the point... He will challenge Pechorin-so far so good! Everything, the challenge, the preparations and the conditions will be made in as solemn and formidable a fashion as possible-I will take care of that, for I'll be your second, my poor friend! Very well! Now this is the trick: we won't load the pistols. I give you my word, Pechorin will show the cowardly white feather-six paces from one another, I'll place them, damn it! Are you agreeable, gentlemen?"
"Grand idea, splendid! What fun!" came from all sides.
"And you, Grushnitsky?"
I awaited Grushnitsky's reply with a little fear. A cold fury gripped me at the thought that mere chance had saved me from being made the butt of these fools' jest. Had Grushnitsky not agreed to it, I would have flung my arms around him. After a brief silence, however, he rose from his seat, extended his hand to the captain and said very pompously: "Very well, I agree."
The elation of the whole honorable company defies description.
I returned home a prey to two conflicting emotions. One was sadness. "Why do they all hate me?" I thought. "Why? Had I offended anybody? No. Can it be that I am one of those whose mere appearance excites ill will?" And I felt a poisonous wrath gradually take possession of me. "Take care, Mr. Grushnitsky," I said to myself as I paced up and down the room, "you cannot trifle thus with me. You might have to pay dearly for the approval of your stupid friends. I am not a toy for you to play with!…"
I lay awake all night. In the morning I looked as yellow as a wild orange.
Early in the day I met Princess Mary at the spring.
"Are you sick?" she asked, looking at me intently.
"I didn't sleep all night."
"Neither did I... I blamed you... unjustly perhaps? But if you'd only explain, I could forgive you everything."
"Everything?"
"Yes, everything... Only you have to tell the truth... be quick... You see, I've gone over it again and again, trying to find some explanation that would justify your conduct. Perhaps you fear opposition on the part of my relatives? You don't have to worry about that; when they hear of it"-her voice trembled-"I'll persuade them. Or perhaps it's your own position... but I want you to know that I'm capable of sacrificing everything for the sake of the man I love... Oh, answer me quickly-have pity on me... Tell me, you don't despise me, do you?"
She held my hand.
Princess Ligovskaya was walking ahead of us with Vera's husband and saw nothing. But we could have been observed by the strolling convalescents, and they are the most inquisitive of all inquisitive gossips, so I quickly disengaged my hand from her passionate hold.
"I will tell you the whole truth," I said, "without trying to justify myself or to explain my actions. I do not love you."
Her lips paled slightly.
"Leave me," she said in a barely audible voice. I shrugged my shoulders, turned, and walked away.
14 June
Sometimes I despise myself; is that why I despise others too? I am no longer capable of noble impulses; I am afraid of appearing ridiculous to myself. Another in my place would have offered the princess son coeur et sa fortune but for me the verb "to marry" has an ominous ring: no matter how passionately I might love a woman, it's farewell to love if she as much as hints at my marrying her. My heart turns to stone, and nothing can warm it again. I'd make any sacrifice but this-twenty times I can stake my life, even my honor, but my freedom I'll never sell. Why do I prize it so much? What do I find in it? What am I aiming at? What have I to expect from the future? Nothing, absolutely nothing. It's some innate fear, an inexplicable foreboding... After all, some people have an unreasoning fear of spiders, cockroaches, mice... Shall I confess? When I was still a child, some old woman told my fortune for my mother, predicting that I'd die through a wicked wife. It made a deep impression on me at the time, and an insuperable abhorrence for marriage grew within me. And yet something tells me that her prophecy will come true-but at least I'll do my best to put off its fulfilment for as long as possible.
15 June
Apfelbaum, the conjurer, arrived here yesterday. A long poster appeared on the restaurant doors informing the worthy public that the above-named amazing magician, acrobat, chemist and optician would have the honor to present a magnificent spectacle this day at eight o'clock in the evening in the hall of the Nobles' Club (in other words, the restaurant); admission two rubles and a half.
Everybody intends to go and see the amazing conjurer. Even Princess Ligovskaya has taken a ticket for herself, although her daughter is sick.
As I was walking past Vera's windows today after dinner-she was sitting on the balcony alone-a note fell at my feet:
Come tonight at ten o'clock in the evening by the main staircase; my husband has gone to Pyatigorsk and will not be back until tomorrow morning. My menservants and chambermaids will not be in: I gave them all, as well as the princess's servants, tickets to the show. I will wait for you; come without fail.
"Aha!" thought I. "At last things are going my way."
At eight o'clock I went to see the conjurer. It was nearly nine when the audience had assembled and the performance began. In the back rows I recognized the lackeys and chambermaids of both Vera and Princess Ligovskaya. They were all accounted for. Grushnitsky was sitting in the first row with his opera glass. The conjurer turned to him each time he needed a handkerchief, watch, ring or the like.
Grushnitsky has not bowed to me for some time, and now he eyed me rather insolently once or twice. He will be sorry for it all when the time comes to settle scores.
It was nearly ten when I rose and went out.
It was pitch dark outside. Heavy, chill clouds lay on the summits of the surrounding mountains, and only now and then did the dying breeze rustle the tops of the poplars around the restaurant. People were crowding round the windows. I went down the hill and, after turning into the gate, walked faster. Suddenly I felt that someone was following me. I stopped and looked around. It was too dark to see anything, but for the sake of caution I walked around the house as if merely out for a stroll. As I passed Princess Mary's windows I again heard footsteps behind me, and a man wrapped in a overcoat ran past me. This worried me-nevertheless I crept up to the porch and hurried up the dark staircase. The door opened, a little hand grabbed mine...
"No one saw you?" Vera whispered, clinging to me.
"No!"
"Now do you believe that I love you? Oh, I have hesitated so long, tormented myself so long... but I am as clay in your hands."
Her heart pounded, and her hands were cold as ice. Then followed reproaches and jealous recriminations-she demanded a full confession, vowing she would meekly endure my faithlessness, for her only desire was to see me happy. I didn't quite believe that but nevertheless reassured her with vows, promises, and so on.
"So you're not going to marry Mary? You don't love her? And she thinks... do you know she is madly in love with you, the poor thing!..."
* * *
At about two o'clock in the morning I opened the window and, knotting two shawls together, let myself down from the upper balcony to the lower, holding on to a column as I did so. A light was still burning in Princess Mary's room. Something attracted me toward that window. The curtains were not drawn tight and I was able to cast a curious glance into the interior of the room. Mary was sitting on her bed, her hands crossed on her knees. Her abundant tresses had been gathered under a lace nightcap, a large scarlet shawl covered her white shoulders, and her tiny feet were concealed in a pair of brightly colored Persian slippers. She sat motionless, her head sunk on her breast; on a table before her lay an open book, but her fixed gaze, full of inexpressible sadness, seemed to be skimming one and the same page for the hundredth time, while her thoughts were far away...
Just then someone moved behind a bush. I jumped down to the lawn from the balcony. An invisible hand clamped down on my shoulder. "Aha!" said a gruff voice. "Got you! I'll teach you to go prowling in princesses' rooms at night!"
"Hold him fast!" yelled another, leaping from behind the corner.
It was Grushnitsky and the captain of dragoons.
I struck the latter on the head with my fist, knocking him down, and ran for the bushes. I knew all the paths in the garden covering the slope opposite our houses.
"Thieves! Help!" they shouted; a shot was fired; the glowing wad fell almost at my feet.
A minute later I was in my own room, undressed and in bed. My manservant had scarcely locked the door, when Grushnitsky and the captain began pounding on it.
"Pechorin! Are you asleep? Are you there?" the captain shouted.
"I'm in bed," I replied irritably.
"Get up! Thieves! The Circassians!"
"I have a cold," I replied, "I don't want to catch pneumonia."
They went away. I shouldn't have answered them. They'd have spent another hour searching for me in the garden. In the meantime the big alarm went up. A Cossack galloped down from the fort. All was astir, Circassians were being hunted in every bush, but of course, none were found. Many people, however, probably remained firmly convinced that had the garrison displayed greater courage and speed at least a dozen or two marauders could have been left for dead.
16 June
The Circassian night raid was the sole subject of conversation at the spring this morning. Having drunk the prescribed number of glasses of Narzan and walked some ten times up and down the long linden avenue, I met Vera's husband, who had just returned from Pyatigorsk. He took my arm and we went into the restaurant for breakfast. He was exceedingly worried about his wife. "She had a terrible fright last night!" he said. "A thing like this would have to happen, just when I was away!" We sat down for breakfast near the door leading to the corner room which was occupied by a dozen gallants, Grushnitsky among them. And for the second time Destiny offered me an opportunity to overhear a conversation that was to decide his fate. He didn't see me, and hence I couldn't conclude that he was talking deliberately for my benefit-but that only enhanced his guilt in my eyes.
"Could it really have been the Circassians?" said someone. "Did anyone see them?"
"I'll tell you the whole truth," replied Grushnitsky, "only I ask you not to give me away. This is what happened: last night a man, whose name I will not mention, came to me with the story that he had seen someone sneaking into the Ligovskoy house at about ten at night. Let me remind you that Princess Ligovskaya was here at the time, and Princess Mary at home. So I set out with him to lie in wait for the lucky fellow under her window."
I admit I was alarmed lest my companion, engrossed though he was with his breakfast, might hear some rather unpleasant things, supposing Grushnitsky had guessed the truth. Blinded by jealousy, however, the latter did not even suspect what had happened.
"So you see," Grushnitsky continued, "we set off taking along a gun loaded with a blank charge in order to give the fellow a fright. Until two o'clock we waited in the garden. Finally he appeared, the Lord knows from where, only it wasn't through the window because it didn't open-he probably came through the glass door hidden behind a column-finally, as I say, we saw somebody climbing down from the balcony... What do you think of the young princess, eh? I must admit, these Moscow ladies are incredible! What can you believe in after this? We tried to hold him, but he broke loose and scurried for the bushes like a rabbit-that's when I shot at him."
A murmur of incredulity broke out around Grushnitsky.
"You don't believe me?" he continued. "I give you my word of honor that this is the downright truth, and to prove it, perhaps I will mention the name of the gentleman in question."
"Who was it, who was it?" came from all sides.
"Pechorin," replied Grushnitsky.
At that moment he raised his eyes-to see me standing in the doorway facing him. He turned scarlet. I stepped up to him and said very slowly and distinctly: "I am very sorry that I entered after you had already given your word of honor in confirmation of the most abominable piece of slander. My presence might have saved you from that added villainy."
Grushnitsky leapt to his feet, all ready to flare up.
"I beg of you," I continued in the same tone of voice, "I beg of you to retract at once what you have said; you are very well aware that it is a lie. I do not believe that the indifference of a woman to your brilliant qualities deserves such dreadful retaliation. Think it over well: if you persist in your opinion, you forfeit any right to your reputation as a man of honor and risk your life."
Grushnitsky stood before me, eyes downcast, in violent agitation. But the struggle between conscience and vanity was brief. The captain of dragoons, who was sitting next to him, nudged him with his elbow. He twitched and quickly replied to me without raising his eyes: "My dear sir, when I say something, I mean it, and am ready to repeat it... Your threats do not intimidate me and I'll stop at nothing."
"The last you have already proved," I replied coldly, and taking the arm of the captain of dragoons, led him out of the room.
"What do you want with me?" asked the captain.
"You are a friend of Grushnitsky's and will probably be his second?"
The captain bowed with much hauteur.
"You've guessed right," he replied. "Moreover, I'm obliged to be his second, for the insult you have offered him concerns me too... I was with him last night," he added, squaring his stooping shoulders.
"Ah, so it was you I hit so clumsily on the head?"
He went yellow, then blue. Suppressed anger showed on his face.
"I will have the honor to send my second to you shortly," I added, bowing very politely and pretending to ignore his fury.
On the steps of the restaurant I met Vera's husband. He had evidently been waiting for me.
He grabbed my hand with something like rapture.
"Noble-minded young man!" he said with tears in his eyes. "I heard everything. What a scoundrel! The ingratitude! Just think of admitting them into a respectable house after this! Thank God I have no daughters! But she for whom you are risking your life will reward you. You may be assured of my discretion for the time being," he continued. "I was young once myself and served in the army; I know one mustn't interfere in affairs like this. Goodbye!"
