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
pistoland 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