recollect something, then blushed
slightly again
and finally
pronounced with decision:
"All!"
"Even my friend, Grushnitski?"
"But is he your friend?" she said, manifesting
some doubt.
"Yes."
"He, of course, does not come into the category
of the tiresome" . . .
"But into that of the unfortunate!" I said,
laughing.
"Of course! But do you consider that
funny? I should like you to be in his place" . . .
"Well? I was once a cadet myself, and, in
truth, it was the best time of my life!"
"Is he a cadet, then?" . . . she said rapidly,
and then added: "But I thought" . . .
"What did you think?" . . .
"Nothing! Who is that lady?"
Thereupon the conversation took a different
direction, and it did not return to the former
subject.
And now the mazurka came to an end and we
separated -- until we should meet again. The
ladies drove off in different directions. I went to
get some supper, and met Werner.
"Aha!" he said: "so it is you! And yet you
did not wish to make the
acquaintance of Princess
Mary
otherwise than by saving her from certain
death."
"I have done better," I replied. "I have
saved her from fainting at the ball" . . .
"How was that? Tell me."
"No, guess! -- O, you who guess everything in
the world!"
CHAPTER VI
30th May.
ABOUT seven o'clock in the evening, I was
walking on the
boulevard. Grushnitski
perceived me a long way off, and came up to me.
A sort of
ridiculousrapture was shining in his
eyes. He pressed my hand warmly, and said in a
tragic voice:
"I thank you, Pechorin. . . You understand
me?"
"No; but in any case it is not worth grati-
tude," I answered, not having, in fact, any good
deed upon my conscience.
"What? But
yesterday! Have you for-
gotten? . . . Mary has told me everything" . . .
"Why! Have you everything in common so
soon as this? Even gratitude?" . . .
"Listen," said Grushnitski very earnestly;
"pray do not make fun of my love, if you wish to
remain my friend. . . You see, I love her to
the point of
madness . . . and I think -- I
hope -- she loves me too. . . I have a request to
make of you. You will be at their house this even-
ing; promise me to observe everything. I know
you are
experienced in these matters, you know
women better than I. . . Women! Women!
Who can understand them? Their smiles contra-
dict their glances, their words promise and allure,
but the tone of their voice repels. . . At one
time they grasp and
divine in a moment our most
secret thoughts, at another they cannot under-
stand the clearest hints. . . Take Princess
Mary, now:
yesterday her eyes, as they rested
upon me, were blazing with
passion; to-day
they are dull and cold" . . .
"That is possibly the result of the waters," I
replied.
"You see the bad side of everything . . .
materialist," he added
contemptuously. "How-
ever, let us talk of other matters."
And, satisfied with his bad pun, he cheered
up.
At nine o'clock we went to Princess Ligovski's
together.
Passing by Vera's windows, I saw her looking
out. We threw a
fleeting glance at each other.
She entered the Ligovskis' drawing-room soon
after us. Princess Ligovski presented me to her,
as a relation of her own. Tea was served. The
guests were numerous, and the conversation was
general. I endeavoured to please the Princess,
jested, and made her laugh
heartily a few times.
Princess Mary, also, was more than once on the
point of bursting out laughing, but she restrained
herself in order not to depart from the role she
had assumed. She finds languor becoming to her,
and perhaps she is not
mistaken. Grushnitski
appears to be very glad that she is not infected by
my
gaiety.
After tea we all went into the drawing-
room.
"Are you satisfied with my
obedience, Vera?"
I said as I was passing her.
She threw me a glance full of love and grati-
tude. I have grown accustomed to such glances;
but at one time they constituted my felicity.
The Princess seated her daughter at the piano-
forte, and all the company begged her to sing.
I kept silence, and,
takingadvantage of the
hubbub, I went aside to the window with Vera,
who wished to say something of great import-
ance to both of us. . . It turned out to be --
nonsense. . .
Meanwhile my
indifference was vexing Princess
Mary, as I was able to make out from a single
angry, gleaming glance which she cast at me. . .
Oh! I understand the method of conversation
wonderfully well: mute but
expressive, brief but
forceful! . . .
She began to sing. She has a good voice, but
she sings badly. . . However, I was not listening.
Grushnitski, on the
contrary, leaning his elbows
on the grand piano, facing her, was devouring
her with his eyes and
saying in an undertone
every minute: "Charmant! Delicieux!"
"Listen," said Vera to me, "I do not wish you
to make my husband's
acquaintance, but you
must, without fail, make yourself
agreeable to
the Princess; that will be an easy task for you:
you can do anything you wish. It is only here that
we shall see each other" . . .
"Only here?" . . .
She blushed and continued:
"You know that I am your slave: I have never
been able to
resist you . . . and I shall be punished
for it, you will cease to love me! At least, I want
to
preserve my
reputation . . . not for myself --
that you know very well! . . . Oh! I beseech
you: do not
torture me, as before, with idle
doubts and feigned coldness! It may be that I
shall die soon; I feel that I am growing weaker
from day to day. . . And, yet, I cannot think
of the future life, I think only of you. . . You
men do not understand the delights of a glance,
of a
pressure of the hand . . . but as for me, I
swear to you that, when I listen to your voice,
I feel such a deep, strange bliss that the most
passionate kisses could not take its place."
Meanwhile, Princess Mary had finished her
song. Murmurs of praise were to be heard all
around. I went up to her after all the other
guests, and said something rather
carelessly to
her on the subject of her voice.
She made a little grimace, pouting her lower
lip, and dropped a very sarcastic curtsey.
"That is all the more flattering," she said,
"because you have not been listening to me at
all; but perhaps you do not like music?" . . .
"On the
contrary, I do . . . After dinner,
especially."
"Grushnitski is right in
saying that you have
very prosaic tastes . . . and I see that you like
music in a gastronomic respect."
"You are
mistaken again: I am by no means an
epicure. I have a most
wretcheddigestion. But
music after dinner puts one to sleep, and to sleep
after dinner is
healthful;
consequently I like
music in a medicinal respect. In the evening,
on the
contrary, it excites my nerves too much:
I become either too
melancholy or too gay. Both
are fatiguing, where there is no
positive reason
for being either
sorrowful or glad. And, more-
over,
melancholy in society is
ridiculous, and too
great
gaiety is unbecoming" . . .
She did not hear me to the end, but went away
and sat beside Grushnitski, and they entered
into a sort of
sentimental conversation. Ap-
parently the Princess answered his sage phrases
rather absent-mindedly and in
consequently,
although endeavouring to show that she was
listening to him with attention, because sometimes
he looked at her in
astonishment,
trying to
divinethe cause of the
inwardagitation which was
expressed at times in her
restless glance . . .
But I have found you out, my dear Princess!
Have a care! You want to pay me back in the
same coin, to wound my
vanity -- you will not
succeed! And if you declare war on me, I will
be merciless!
In the course of the evening, I purposely tried
a few times to join in their conversation, but she
met my remarks rather
coldly, and, at last, I
retired in pretended
vexation. Princess Mary
was
triumphant, Grushnitski
likewise. Triumph,
my friends, and be quick about it! . . . You will
not have long to triumph! . . . It cannot be
otherwise. I have a presentiment. . . On making
a woman's
acquaintance I have always unerringly
guessed whether she would fall in love with me
or not.
The remaining part of the evening I spent at
Vera's side, and talked to the full about the
old days. . . Why does she love me so much?
In truth, I am
unable to say, all the more so
because she is the only woman who has understood
me
perfectly, with all my petty weaknesses and