A Hero of Our Time, page 14
Poor fellow! He is glad that he has no daughters...
I went straight to Werner, whom I found at home, and told him everything-my relations with Vera and Princess Mary and the conversation I had overheard, which showed me these gentlemen's intentions to make a fool of me by having us shoot it out with blank charges. Now, however, that affair had overstepped the bounds of a joke. They probably had not expected it to end like this.
The doctor agreed to act as my second. I gave him a few instructions concerning the conditions of the duel-he was to insist on the greatest secrecy, for, though I am always ready to risk my life, I am not disposed in the slightest to spoil my future in this world for all time to come.
Afterwards I went home. An hour later the doctor returned from his expedition.
"There is indeed a conspiracy against you," he said. "I found the captain of dragoons and another gentleman, whose name I do not remember, at Grushnitsky's. I stopped for a moment in the hallway to take off my galoshes. Inside there was a terrific noise and argument going on. 'I will not agree on any account!' Grushnitsky was saying. 'He insulted me publicly; previously it was an entirely different matter...' 'Why should it concern you?' replied the captain. 'I'm taking everything upon myself. I've been a second in five duels and know how these things are arranged. I've thought it out in every detail. Only be so good as not to interfere with me. It'll do him good to give him a fright. So why should you run a risk if you don't have to?..." At that point I walked in. They immediately fell silent. Our negotiations lasted for quite a while, and finally we came to the following arrangement: about three miles from here there is a lonely gorge. They'll go there tomorrow morning at four o'clock, and we are to leave half an hour later. You'll fire at six paces-Grushnitsky insisted on that distance himself. The dead man is to be credited to the Circassians. Now I'll tell you what I suspect: they, the seconds, I mean, have apparently amended the earlier scheme somewhat and want to put a bullet only into Grushnitsky's pistol. It looks rather like murder, but cunning is permitted in wartime, particularly in an Asiatic war. I dare say, though, that Grushnitsky is a slightly better man than his comrades. What do you think? Should we let them know that we have guessed their stratagem?"
"Not for anything in the world, doctor! You can rest assured I won't give in to them."
"What do you intend to do?"
"That's my secret."
"Take care you don't fall into a trap... Remember the distance is only six paces!"
"Doctor, I'll expect you tomorrow at four. The horses will be saddled. Goodbye!"
I sat at home until evening, locked up in my room. A footman came with an invitation from Princess Ligovskaya, but I said I was ill.
It is two o'clock in the morning, but I can't fall asleep. I know I should rest, so that my hand will be steady tomorrow. It'll be hard to miss at six paces though. Ah, Mr. Grushnitsky, your plots won't succeed! We will exchange roles, and now it'll be for me to look for signs of secret terror on your pale face. Why did you insist on these fatal six paces? You think that I'll submissively offer you my brow as a target... but we'll draw lots! And then... then... but what if fortune smiles on him? What if my star fails me at last? And little wonder if it did-it has faithfully served my caprices long enough: there is no more constancy in the heavens than on earth.
Ah, well! If I must die, I must! The world will lose little, and I am weary enough of it all. I am like a man who yawns at a ball and doesn't go home to sleep only because his carriage hasn't come. But now the carriage is here-goodbye!
I run through my past life in my mind and involuntarily ask myself: Why have I lived? For what purpose was I born? There must have been a purpose, and certainly fate must have something noble in store for me, for I am conscious of untapped powers within me... But I didn't figure out my destination. I allowed myself to be carried away by the temptation of vain and frivolous passions. I emerged from their crucible hard and cold like iron, but gone forever was the ardor of noble aspirations-life's finest flower. How often since then have I played the role of an ax in the hands of fate! Like an instrument of execution I have fallen upon the heads of the condemned, often without malice, always without regret... My love has never made anyone happy, for I have never sacrificed anything for those I loved; I have loved only for myself, for my own pleasure. I have striven only to satisfy a strange craving of the heart, greedily absorbing their emotions, their tenderness, their joys and sufferings-and have never been fully satisfied. I have been like the starving man who falls into a stupor from sheer exhaustion and dreams of luxurious foods and sparkling wines-exultingly he shovels in these ephemeral gifts of the imagination, and seems to feel better-but when he awakes the vision is gone... and redoubled hunger and despair remain!
Perhaps I will die tomorrow, and there won't be anyone left on earth who understands me fully. Some think of me worse, others better, than I really am. Some will say: he was a good fellow; others: he was a scoundrel. And both will be wrong. Is it worth the trouble to live after this? And yet you go on living-out of curiosity, in expectation of something new... How ludicrous and how vexatious!
A month and a half has passed since I arrived at the fort of N-. Maksim Maksimich has gone out hunting... I am all alone. I am sitting at the window. Outside, the gray clouds have concealed the mountains to their very base. The sun looks like a yellow blotch through the mist. It is cold. The wind is sighing and rattling the shutters... How wearisome it all is! I'll resume writing my journal, which has been interrupted by so many strange events.
Reading over the last page, it strikes me as amusing. I thought I would die-but that was out of the question, for I have not yet drained my cup of misery to the dregs and now I feel that I still have long to live.
How clearly and sharply everything that has happened is imprinted in my memory! Time hasn't obliterated a single line or nuance.
I recall that on the night before the duel I didn't sleep a wink. A mysterious uneasiness took hold of me and I couldn't write for long. For about an hour I paced the room, then I sat down and opened a novel by Walter Scott that had lain on my table: it was Old Mortality[107]. At first I read with an effort, then, carried away by the enchanting fiction, I was soon oblivious to everything. Surely, the Scottish bard is rewarded in heaven for every joyous minute his book gives to the reader...
At last day broke. My nerves had grown calm. I examined my face in the mirror; a dull white had spread over my features, which still showed traces of a racking sleepless night, but my eyes, though encircled by dark shadows, shone proudly and remorselessly. I was satisfied with myself.
Ordering the horses to be saddled, I dressed and hurried to the baths. As I immersed myself in the cold Narzan water, I felt my physical and spiritual strength returning. I left the baths as refreshed and vigorous as if about to attend a ball. After this, no one can tell me that the soul is not dependent on the body!
On returning home, I found the doctor there. He was wearing gray riding pants, a light jacket gathered in at the waist and a Circassian cap. I burst out laughing at the sight of his slight body beneath the enormous shaggy cap. His face is anything but warlike, and this time he looked more dejected than usual.
"Why so sad, doctor?" I said to him. "Haven't you seen people off to the next world a hundred times with the greatest indifference? Imagine that I have a bilious fever, and that I have equal chances of recovering or succumbing. Both outcomes are in the order of things. Try to regard me as a patient stricken with a disease you have not yet diagnosed-that will stimulate your curiosity to the utmost. You may now make some important physiological observations on me... Isn't expectation of death by violence a real illness in itself?"
This thought impressed the doctor and his spirits rose.
We mounted. Werner clung to the reins with both hands and we set off. In a flash we had galloped through the settlement, past the fort, and entered the gorge, through which a road wound its way. It was half overgrown with tall grass and crossed at short intervals by noisy brooks which we had to ford, much to the despair of the doctor, whose horse would halt each time in the water.
I can't remember a bluer or fresher morning. The sun had barely peeped over the green summits and the merging of the first warmth of its rays with the dying coolness of the night brought a sweet languor to the senses. The exultant rays of the new day hadn't yet penetrated into the gorge. Now they gilded only the tops of the crags that towered above us on both sides. The dense foliage of the bushes growing in the deep crevices of the cliffs showered a silvery rain upon us at the slightest breath of wind. I remember that at that moment I loved nature as never before. With what curiosity did I gaze at each dewdrop that trembled on the broad vine leaves, reflecting millions of rainbow glints! How eagerly my eyes sought to pierce the hazy distance! There the path grew narrower and narrower, the crags bluer and more awesome, seeming to merge at last into an impregnable wall. We rode along in silence.
"Have you made your will?" Werner asked all of a sudden.
"No."
"What if you are killed?"
"The heirs will turn up themselves."
"Have you no friends to whom you would wish to send your last farewell?"
I shook my head.
"Is there no woman in the world to whom you would want to leave something to remember you by?"
"Do you want me to lay bare my soul to you, doctor?" I replied. "You see, I'm past the age when people die with the names of their beloved on their lips and bequeath a lock of pomaded, or unpomaded, hair to a friend. When I think of imminent and possible death, I think only of myself; some do not even do that. Friends, who will forget me tomorrow, or, worse still, who will weave God knows what fantastic yarns about me; and women, who in the embrace of another man will laugh at me in order that he might not be jealous of the departed-what do I care for them? From life's turmoil I've drawn a few ideas, but no feeling. For a long time now I have been living by my reason, not my heart. I weigh and analyze my own emotions and actions with stern curiosity, but without sympathy. There are two men in me-one lives in the full sense of the word, the other reasons and passes judgment on the first. The first will perhaps take leave of you and the world forever in an hour now; and the second... the second? Look, doctor, do you see the three dark figures on the cliff to the right? I believe those are our adversaries."
We spurred our horses on.
Three horses were tethered in the bushes at the foot of the cliff. We tied up ours there too and continued on foot up a narrow path to a ledge where Grushnitsky was waiting for us with the captain of dragoons and another second, by the name of Ivan Ignatyevich-his last name I never heard.
"We have been waiting a long time for you," said the captain of dragoons, with an ironical smile.
I pulled out my watch and showed it to him.
He apologized, saying that his watch was fast.
For several minutes there was an awkward silence. At last the doctor broke it, turning to Grushnitsky: "I believe," he said, "that having both shown your readiness to fight and thereby duly discharged your debt of honor, you might, gentlemen, come to an understanding and end this affair in a friendly fashion."
"I am ready to do so," said I.
The captain winked at Grushnitsky, who, thinking that I was showing the white feather, assumed a haughty air, although his face had been sickly gray until that moment. Now, for the first time since our arrival, he looked at me; the glance was uneasy and it betrayed his inner conflict.
"Tell me your conditions," he said, "and you may rest assured that I will do all I can for you…"
"These are my conditions: you will today publicly retract your false insult and apologize to me..."
"My dear sir, I am amazed that you dare suggest anything of the kind…"
"What else could I suggest?"
"We'll shoot it out."
I shrugged my shoulders.
"So be it. Only remember that one of us is bound to be killed."
"I hope it'll be you."
"I'm quite certain of the contrary."
He moved involuntarily and flushed red, and then he forced a laugh.
The captain took him by the arm and led him aside. They spoke in whispers at some length. I had arrived quite peaceably disposed, but now these proceedings were beginning to infuriate me.
The doctor came up to me.
"Look here," he said, obviously worried, "have you forgotten about their conspiracy? I don't know how to load a pistol, and if that's the case... You are a strange man! Tell them you are aware of their intentions, and they won't dare... Where's the sense of it? They will shoot you down like a sitting duck…"
"Please, doctor, do not alarm yourself, and wait a little... I'll handle the whole thing so that they won't have any advantage. Let them whisper…"
"Gentlemen, this is becoming tiresome!" I said to them in a loud voice. "If we are to fight, let us do so; you had time enough yesterday to talk it over..."
"We are ready," replied the captain. "Take your places, gentlemen! Doctor, will you measure out six paces?"
"Take your places!" repeated Ivan Ignatyevich in a squeaky voice.
"I beg your pardon!" I said. "There is one more condition. Inasmuch as we intend to fight to the death, we are obliged to take every precaution that this encounter should remain a secret and that our seconds should bear no responsibility. Do you agree?"
"We agree fully."
"This is what I have worked out. Do you see the narrow ledge on top of that sheer cliff to the right? The drop from there to the bottom is a good two hundred feet, if not more; down below there are jagged rocks. Each of us will take his position on the very edge of the shelf, which will make even a slight wound deadly. That should coincide with your wishes, since you yourselves set the distance at six paces. If one of us is wounded he will inevitably go over and be dashed to pieces. The doctor will remove the bullet, and the sudden death can easily be explained as an accident. We will draw lots to see who is to shoot first. In conclusion I wish to make it clear that I will fight on no other terms."
"Let it be so!" said the captain after a meaningful look at Grushnitsky, who nodded his agreement. His facial expression changed every moment. I had placed him in a difficult position. Under ordinary conditions, he could have aimed at my leg and wounded me lightly, thus getting his revenge without laying too heavy a burden on his conscience. Now, however, he either had to fire into the air or become a murderer, or, finally, abandon his dastardly scheme and run the same risk as I. I wouldn't have wished to be in his boots at that moment. He led the captain aside and began to talk to him very heatedly. I noticed how his lips, now turned bluish, quivered. The captain, however, turned away from him with a contemptuous smile. "You're a fool!" he said to Grushnitsky rather loudly. "You don't understand anything. Let's go, gentlemen!"
A narrow path winding between the bushes led up the steep incline. Broken fragments of rock formed the precarious steps of this natural staircase. Clutching at the bushes, we began climbing. Grushnitsky went ahead, followed by his seconds, and the doctor and I came last.
"You amaze me," said the doctor, clasping my hand warmly. "Let me feel your pulse. Oho, it's pounding feverishly! But your face betrays nothing; only your eyes shine brighter than usual."
Suddenly small stones rolled noisily down to our feet. What had happened? Grushnitsky had stumbled; the branch he had been holding snapped and he would have fallen backwards had his seconds not supported him.
"Take care!" I called out to him. "Don't fall too soon; it's an ill omen. Remember Julius Caesar[108]!"
And so we reached the top of the projecting cliff. The ledge was covered with fine sand as if specially spread there for the duel. All around, wrapped in the golden mist of morning, the mountain peaks clustered like a numberless herd, while in the south Elbrus loomed white, bringing up the rear of a chain of icy summits among which roamed the feathery clouds blown in from the east. I walked to the brink of the ledge and looked down. My head nearly swam. Down below it was dark and cold as the grave, and the moss-grown jagged rocks, hurled down by storm and time, awaited their prey.
The ledge on which we were to fight was an almost regular triangle. Six paces were measured off from the projecting angle, and it was decided that he who would first have to face his opponent's fire would stand at the very edge with his back to the abyss. If he were not killed, the adversaries would change places.
I decided to give Grushnitsky every advantage, for I wanted to test him-a spark of generosity might have been awakened in his soul, in which case everything would have turned out for the best, but vanity and weakness of character were bound to triumph... I wanted to give myself full justification for not sparing him if fate showed mercy to me. Who has not thus struck a bargain with his conscience?
"Toss the coin, doctor!" said the captain.
The doctor produced a silver coin from his pocket and held it aloft.
"Tails!" cried Grushnitsky suddenly, like a man just awakened by a friendly nudge.
"Heads!" said I.
The coin rose into the air and came down with a clink. We all rushed over to look at it.
"You're lucky," I said to Grushnitsky, "you're to shoot first. But remember, if you don't kill me, I won't miss-I give you my word of honor."
He turned red. The thought of killing an unarmed man filled him with shame. I looked at him intently, and for a moment I thought he would throw himself at my feet and beg my forgiveness; but how could he confess to a scheme so vile? One way out remained for him: to fire into the air. I was certain he would fire into the air! Only one thing might prevent him from doing so: the thought that I might demand a second duel.
"It's time now!" the doctor whispered to me, tugging at my sleeve. "If you will not tell them now that we know their intention, all will be lost. See, he is loading already. If you won't, I'll tell them..."
"Certainly not, doctor!" I replied, restraining him by the arm. "You'll spoil everything; you gave me your word you wouldn't interfere... And why should it concern you? Perhaps I want to be killed."
