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that what you have already told me was not the
end of it."

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

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

have an unusual ending."
"You have guessed, of course" . . .

"I am very glad to hear it."
"It is all very well for you to be glad, but,

indeed, it makes 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! . . . Heaven forgive
her!"

[1] Lezghian dance.
"And when you told her of her father's

death?"
"We kept it a secret from her for a long time,

until she had grown accustomed to her position;
and then, when she was told, she cried for a day

or two and forgot all about it.
"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 fortressrampart.

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 and
oftener. . .

"'This looks bad!' I said to myself. 'Some-
thing must have come between them!'

"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.
"'Where is Pechorin?' I asked.

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

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

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

"'Surely nothing has happened to him!'
"'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.'
"'In truth, my dear girl, you could not have

imagined anything worse!'
"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!' . . .
"I tried to talk her over.

"'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, if you are
going to be unhappy, you will soon make him

tired of you.'
"'True, true!' she said. 'I will be

merry.'
"And with a burst of laughter, she seized her

tambourine, began to sing, dance, and gambol
around me. But that did not last long either;

she 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 most
unpleasant situation, sir!

"At length I said to her:
"'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's-breadth 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. 'Strange!' I thought.
"'Look, look, Bela,' I said, 'you've got young

eyes -- what sort of a horseman is that? Who is
it he has come to amuse?' . . .

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

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

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

and dirty as ever.
"'It is my father's horse!' said Bela, seizing

my arm.
"She was trembling like a leaf and her eyes

were sparkling.
"'Aha!' I said to myself. 'There is robber's

blood in your veins still, my dear!'
"'Come here,' I said to the sentry. 'Look to

your gun and unhorse that gallant for me -- and
you shall have a silver ruble.'

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

"'Tell him to!' I said, with a laugh.
"'Hey, friend!' cried the sentry, waving

his hand. 'Wait a bit. What are you spinning
round like a humming-top for?'

"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 his own language, made a threatening gesture

with his whip -- and was off.
"'Aren't you ashamed of yourself?' I said

to the sentry.
"'He has gone away to die, your honour,' he

answered. 'There's no killing a man of that
cursed race at one stroke.'

"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 to-day! 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 in marriage.'
"At this Pechorin became thoughtful.

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

walk on the rampart any more.'


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