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ducats, the remaining five you owe me, kindly
add them to the others."

"Very well," said the major; "though,
indeed, I do not understand what is the question

at issue and how you will decide it!"
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

him by the arms.
"What are you going to do?" they exclaimed.

"This is madness!"
"Gentlemen!" he said slowly, disengaging

his arm. "Who would like to pay twenty ducats
for me?"

They were silent and drew away.
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 it is difficult for practised eyes to be

mistaken.
"You will die to-day!" I said to Vulich.

He turned towards me rapidly, but answered
slowly and quietly:

"May be so, may be not." . . .
Then, addressing himself to the major, he asked:

"Is the pistol loaded?"
The major, in the confusion, could not quite

remember.
"There, that will do, Vulich!" exclaimed

somebody. "Of course it must be loaded, if it
was one of those hanging on the wall there over

our heads. What a man you are for joking!"
"A silly joke, too!" struck in another.

"I wager fifty rubles to five that the pistol is
not loaded!" cried a third.

A new bet was made.
I was beginning to get tired of it all.

"Listen," I said, "either shoot yourself, or
hang up the pistol in its place and let us go to bed."

"Yes, of course!" many exclaimed. "Let
us go to bed."

"Gentlemen, I beg of you not to move," said
Vulich, putting the muzzle of the pistol to his

forehead.
We were all petrified.

"Mr. Pechorin," he added, "take a card and
throw it up in the air."

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 flash
in the pan!

"Thank God!" many exclaimed. "It wasn't
loaded!"

"Let us see, though," said Vulich.
He cocked the pistol again, and took aim at a

forage-cap which was hanging above the window.
A shot rang out. Smoke filled the room; when

it cleared away, the forage-cap was taken down.
It had been shot right through the centre,

and the bullet was deeply embedded in the
wall.

For two or three minutes no one was able to
utter a word. Very quietly Vulich poured my

ducats from the major's purse into his own.
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 had not once taken my eyes off the
pistol.

"You are lucky at play!" I said to Vulich. . .
"For the first time in my life!" he answered,

with a complacent smile. "It is better than
'bank' and 'shtoss.'"[1]

[1] Card-games.
"But, on the other hand, slightly more

dangerous!"
"Well? Have you begun to believe in pre-

destination?
"I do believe in it; only I cannot understand

now why it appeared to me that you must
inevitably die to-day!"

And this same man, who, such a short time
before, had with the greatest calmness aimed

a pistol at his own forehead, now suddenly fired
up and became embarrassed.

"That will do, though!" he said, rising to his
feet. "Our wager is finished, and now your

observations, it seems to me, are out of place."
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

house-tops; 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 at every

struggle with mankind or with destiny.
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 well-timed.
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


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