"So you will not marry Mary? You do not
love her? . . . But she thinks. . . Do you
know, she is madly in love with you, poor
girl!" . . .
. . . . .
About two o'clock in the morning I opened the
window and, tying 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
lace-frilled nightcap; her white shoulders were
covered by a large
crimsonkerchief, and her little
feet were
hidden in a pair of many-coloured
Persian slippers. She was sitting quite still, her
head sunk upon her breast; on a little table in
front of her was an open book; but her eyes,
fixed and full of inexpressible grief, seemed for
the
hundredth time to be skimming the same
page
whilst her thoughts were far away.
At that moment somebody stirred behind a
shrub. I leaped from the
balcony on to the
sward. An
invisible hand seized me by the
shoulder.
"Aha!" said a rough voice: "caught! . . .
I'll teach you to be entering
princesses' rooms at
night!"
"Hold him fast!" exclaimed another, spring-
ing out from a corner.
It was Grushnitski and the captain of dragoons.
I struck the latter on the head with my fist,
knocked him off his feet, and darted into the
bushes. All the paths of the garden which covered
the slope opposite our houses were known to me.
"Thieves, guard!" . . . they cried.
A gunshot rang out; a smoking wad fell almost
at my feet.
Within a minute I was in my own room,
undressed and in bed. My manservant had only
just locked the door when Grushnitski and the
captain began knocking for admission.
"Pechorin! Are you asleep? Are you
there?" . . . cried the captain.
"I am in bed," I answered angrily.
"Get up! Thieves! . . . Circassians!" . . .
"I have a cold," I answered. "I am afraid of
catching a chill."
They went away. I had gained no useful pur-
pose by answering them: they would have been
looking for me in the garden for another hour
or so.
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.
CHAPTER XVIII
27th June.
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
restaurant for breakfast. He was
dreadfully un-
easy about his wife.
"What a terrible
fright she had last night,"
he said. "Of course, it was bound to happen
just at the very time when I was absent."
We sat down to breakfast near the door leading
into a corner-room in which about a dozen young
men were sitting. Grushnitski was
amongst them.
For the second time
destiny provided me with
the opportunity of overhearing a conversation
which was to decide his fate. He did not see me,
and,
consequently, it was impossible for me to
suspect him of design; but that only magnified
his fault in my eyes.
"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 truth; but, blinded by
jealousy, the latter did not even
suspect it.
"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."
There was a general murmur of incredulity.
"You do not believe it?" he continued. "I
give you my word of honour as a gentleman that
it is all
perfectly true, and, in proof, I will tell
you the man's name if you like."
"Tell us, tell us, who was he?" came from
all sides.
"Pechorin," answered Grushnitski.
At that moment he raised his eyes -- I was stand-
ing in the
doorway opposite to him. He grew
terribly red. I went up to him and said, slowly
and distinctly:
"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."
Grushnitski jumped up from his seat and
seemed about to fly into a passion.
"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 to
the name of gentleman and will risk your
life."
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 ready for anything."
"The latter you have already proved," I an-
swered
coldly; and,
taking the captain of dra-
goons by the arm, I left the room.
"What do you want?" asked the captain.
"You are Grushnitski's friend and will no
doubt be his second?"
The captain bowed very gravely.
"You have guessed rightly," he answered.
"Moreover, I am bound to be his second, because
the
insult offered to him touches myself also. I
was with him last night," he added, straightening
up his stooping figure.
"Ah! So it was you whose head I struck so
clumsily?" . . .
He turned yellow in the face, then blue; sup-
pressed rage was portrayed upon his counte-
nance.
"I shall have the honour to send my second to
you to-day," I added, bowing adieu to him very
politely, without appearing to have noticed his
fury.
On the restaurant-steps I met Vera's husband.
Apparently he had been
waiting for me.
He seized my hand with a feeling akin to
rapture.
"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 course. Good-bye."
Poor fellow! He is glad that he has no
daughters! . . .
I went straight to Werner, found him at home,
and told him the whole story -- my relations with
Vera and Princess Mary, and the conversation
which I had overheard and from which I had