to give up everything to make you
cheerful once
more. I want you to be happy, and, if you are
going to be sad again, I shall die. Tell me, you
will be more
cheerful?'
"She fell into thought, her black eyes still
fixed upon him. Then she smiled
graciously" target="_blank" title="ad.仁慈地,和蔼庄重地">
graciously and
nodded her head in token of acquiescence.
"He took her by the hand and tried to induce
her to kiss him. She defended herself
feebly, and
only
repeated: 'Please! Please! You mustn't,
you mustn't!'
"He went on to insist; she began to tremble
and weep.
"'I am your captive,' she said, 'your slave;
of course, you can compel me.'
"And then, again -- tears.
"Grigori Aleksandrovich struck his forehead
with his fist and
sprang into the other room. I
went in to see him, and found him walking
moodily
backwards and forwards with folded
arms.
"'Well, old man?' I said to him.
"'She is a devil -- not a woman!' he answered.
'But I give you my word of honour that she
shall be mine!'
"I shook my head.
"'Will you bet with me?' he said. 'In a
week's time?'
"'Very well,' I answered.
"We shook hands on it and separated.
"The next day he immediately despatched an
express
messenger to Kizlyar to purchase some
things for him. The
messenger brought back a
quite
innumerable quantity of various Persian
stuffs.
"'What think you, Maksim Maksimych?' he
said to me, showing the presents. 'Will our
Asiatic beauty hold out against such a battery
as this?'
"'You don't know the Circassian women,' I
answered. 'They are not at all the same as the
Georgian or the Transcaucasian Tartar women --
not at all! They have their own principles, they
are brought up differently.'
"Grigori Aleksandrovich smiled and began to
whistle a march to himself."
CHAPTER VI
"AS things fell out, however," continued
Maksim Maksimych, "I was right, you
see. The presents produced only half an effect.
She became more
gracious more trustful -- but
that was all. Pechorin
accordingly determined
upon a last
expedient. One morning he ordered
his horse to be saddled, dressed himself as a Cir-
cassian, armed himself, and went into her room.
"'Bela,' he said. 'You know how I love
you. I
decided to carry you off, thinking that
when you grew to know me you would give me
your love. I was
mistaken. Farewell! Re-
main
absolutemistress of all I possess. Return
to your father if you like -- you are free. I have
acted wrongfully towards you, and I must punish
myself. Farewell! I am going. Whither? --
How should I know? Perchance I shall not
have long to court the
bullet or the sabre-stroke.
Then remember me and forgive.'
"He turned away, and stretched out his hand
to her in
farewell. She did not take his hand,
but remained silent. But I,
standing there
behind the door, was able through a chink to
observe her
countenance, and I felt sorry for
her -- such a deathly pallor shrouded that charm-
ing little face! Hearing no answer, Pechorin took
a few steps towards the door. He was trembling,
and -- shall I tell you? -- I think that he was in a
state to perform in very fact what he had been
saying in jest! He was just that sort of man,
Heaven knows!
"He had scarcely touched the door, however,
when Bela
sprang to her feet, burst out sobbing,
and threw herself on his neck! Would you believe
it? I,
standing there behind the door, fell to
weeping too, that is to say, you know, not exactly
weeping -- but just -- well, something foolish!"
The staff-captain became silent.
"Yes, I confess," he said after a while, tugging
at his moustache, "I felt hurt that not one
woman had ever loved me like that."
"Was their happiness lasting?" I asked.
"Yes, she admitted that, from the day she had
first cast eyes on Pechorin, she had often dreamed
of him, and that no other man had ever pro-
duced such an
impression upon her. Yes, they
were happy!"
"How tiresome!" I exclaimed,
involuntarily.
In point of fact, I had been expecting a tragic
ending -- when, lo! he must needs
disappoint my
hopes in such an
unexpected manner! . . .
"Is it possible, though," I continued, "that
her father did not guess that she was with you
in the fortress?"
"Well, you must know, he seems to have had
his suspicions. After a few days, we
learned that
the old man had been murdered. This is how
it happened." . . .
My attention was aroused anew.
"I must tell you that Kazbich imagined that
the horse had been
stolen by Azamat with his
father's consent; at any rate, that is what I
suppose. So, one day, Kazbich went and waited
by the
roadside, about three versts beyond the
village. The old man was returning from one
of his
futile searches for his daughter; his re-
tainers were lagging behind. It was dusk.
Deep in thought, he was riding at a walking
pace when, suddenly, Kazbich darted out like a
cat from behind a bush,
sprang up behind him
on the horse, flung him to the ground with a
thrust of his
dagger, seized the
bridle and was
off. A few of the retainers saw the whole affair
from the hill; they dashed off in
pursuit of
Kazbich, but failed to
overtake him."
"He requited himself for the loss of his
horse, and took his
revenge at the same time," I
said, with a view to evoking my companion's
opinion.
"Of course, from their point of view," said
the staff-captain, "he was
perfectly right."
I was
involuntarily struck by the aptitude
which the Russian displays for accommodating
himself to the customs of the people in whose
midst he happens to be living. I know not
whether this
mental quality is deserving of
censure or
commendation, but it proves the
incredible pliancy of his mind and the presence
of that clear common sense which pardons evil
wherever it sees that evil is
inevitable or im-
possible of annihilation.
CHAPTER VII
IN the
meantime we had finished our tea.
The horses, which had been put to long
before, were freezing in the snow. In the west
the moon was growing pale, and was just on the
point of plunging into the black clouds which
were
hanging over the distant
summits like the
shreds of a torn curtain. We went out of the
hut. Contrary to my fellow-traveller's pre-
diction, the weather had cleared up, and there
was a promise of a calm morning. The dancing
choirs of the stars were interwoven in wondrous
patterns on the distant
horizon, and, one after
another, they flickered out as the wan resplendence
of the east suffused the dark, lilac vault of heaven,
gradually illumining the steep mountain slopes,
covered with the
virgin snows. To right and
left loomed grim and
mysterious chasms, and
masses of mist, eddying and coiling like snakes,
were creeping
thither along the furrows of the
neighbouring cliffs, as though sentient and fear-
ful of the approach of day.
All was calm in heaven and on earth, calm as
within the heart of a man at the moment of
morning prayer; only at intervals a cool wind
rushed in from the east, lifting the horses' manes
which were covered with hoar-frost. We started
off. The five lean jades dragged our wagons
with difficulty along the tortuous road up Mount
Get. We ourselves walked behind, placing stones
under the wheels
whenever the horses were spent.
The road seemed to lead into the sky, for, so far
as the eye could
discern, it still mounted up and
up, until finally it was lost in the cloud which,
since early evening, had been resting on the sum-
mit of Mount Get, like a kite awaiting its prey.
The snow crunched under our feet. The atmo-
sphere grew so rarefied that to
breathe was pain-
ful; ever and anon the blood rushed to my head,
but
withal a certain rapturous
sensation was
diffused throughout my veins and I felt a species
of delight at being so high up above the world.
A
childish feeling, I admit, but, when we retire
from the conventions of society and draw close
to nature, we
involuntarily become as children:
each
attribute acquired by experience falls away
from the soul, which becomes anew such as it was
once and will surely be again. He whose lot it
has been, as mine has been, to
wander over the
desolate mountains, long, long to observe their
fantastic shapes,
greedily to gulp down the life-
giving air diffused through their ravines -- he, of
course, will understand my desire to communicate,
to narrate, to
sketch those magic pictures.
Well, at length we reached the
summit of
Mount Gut and, halting, looked around us.
Upon the mountain a grey cloud was
hanging,
and its cold
breath threatened the approach of
a storm; but in the east everything was so clear
and golden that we -- that is, the staff-captain
and I -- forgot all about the cloud. . . Yes, the
staff-captain too; in simple hearts the feeling
for the beauty and
grandeur of nature is a