CHAPTER XI
"A CROWD was awaiting us at the fortress gate. Carefully we carried thewounded girl to Pechorin's quarters, and then we sent for the doctor.The latter was drunk, but he came, examined the wound, and announcedthat she could not live more than a day. He was mistaken, though."
"She recovered?" I asked the staff-captain, seizing him by the arm, andinvoluntarily rejoicing.
"No," he replied, "but the doctor was so far mistaken that she lived twodays longer."
"Explain, though, how Kazbich made off with her!"
"It was like this: in spite of Pechorin's prohibition, she went out ofthe fortress and down to the river. It was a very hot day, you know, andshe sat on a rock and dipped her feet in the water. Up crept Kazbich,pounced upon her, silenced her, and dragged her into the bushes. Thenhe sprang on his horse and made off. In the meantime she succeeded incrying out, the sentries took the alarm, fired, but wide of the mark;and thereupon we arrived on the scene."
"But what did Kazbich want to carry her off for?"
"Good gracious! Why, everyone knows these Circassians are a race ofthieves; they can't keep their hands off anything that is left lyingabout! They may not want a thing, but they will steal it, for all that.Still, you mustn't be too hard on them. And, besides, he had been inlove with her for a long time."
"And Bela died?"
"Yes, she died, but she suffered for a long time, and we were fairlyknocked up with her, I can tell you. About ten o'clock in the eveningshe came to herself. We were sitting by her bed. As soon as ever sheopened her eyes she began to call Pechorin.
"'I am here beside you, my janechka' (that is, 'my darling'), heanswered, taking her by the hand.
"'I shall die,' she said.
"We began to comfort her, telling her that the doctor had promisedinfallibly to cure her. She shook her little head and turned to thewall--she did not want to die!...
"At night she became delirious, her head burned, at times a feverishparoxysm convulsed her whole body. She talked incoherently about herfather, her brother; she yearned for the mountains, for her home... Thenshe spoke of Pechorin also, called him various fond names, or reproachedhim for having ceased to love his janechka.
"He listened to her in silence, his head sunk in his hands; but yet,during the whole time, I did not notice a single tear-drop on hislashes. I do not know whether he was actually unable to weep or wasmastering himself; but for my part I have never seen anything morepitiful.
"Towards morning the delirium passed off. For an hour or so she laymotionless, pale, and so weak that it was hardly possible to observethat she was breathing. After that she grew better and began to talk:only about what, think you? Such thoughts come only to the dying!... Shelamented that she was not a Christian, that in the other world hersoul would never meet the soul of Grigori Aleksandrovich, and that inParadise another woman would be his companion. The thought occurred tome to baptize her before her death. I told her my idea; she looked at meundecidedly, and for a long time was unable to utter a word. Finally sheanswered that she would die in the faith in which she had been born.A whole day passed thus. What a change that day made in her! Her palecheeks fell in, her eyes grew ever so large, her lips burned. She felta consuming heat within her, as though a red-hot blade was piercing herbreast.
"The second night came on. We did not close our eyes or leave thebedside. She suffered terribly, and groaned; and directly the pain beganto abate she endeavoured to assure Grigori Aleksandrovich that she feltbetter, tried to persuade him to go to bed, kissed his hand and wouldnot let it out of hers. Before the morning she began to feel the deathagony and to toss about. She knocked the bandage off, and the bloodflowed afresh. When the wound was bound up again she grew quiet for amoment and begged Pechorin to kiss her. He fell on his knees besidethe bed, raised her head from the pillow, and pressed his lips tohers--which were growing cold. She threw her trembling arms closelyround his neck, as if with that kiss she wished to yield up her soulto him.--No, she did well to die! Why, what would have become of her ifGrigori Aleksandrovich had abandoned her? And that is what would havehappened, sooner or later.
"During half the following day she was calm, silent and docile, howevermuch the doctor tortured her with his fomentations and mixtures.
"'Good heavens!' I said to him, 'you know you said yourself that she wascertain to die, so what is the good of all these preparations of yours?'
"'Even so, it is better to do all this,' he replied, 'so that I may havean easy conscience.'
"A pretty conscience, forsooth!
"After midday Bela began to suffer from thirst. We opened the windows,but it was hotter outside than in the room; we placed ice round thebed--all to no purpose. I knew that that intolerable thirst was a signof the approaching end, and I told Pechorin so.
"'Water, water!' she said in a hoarse voice, raising herself up from thebed.
"Pechorin turned pale as a sheet, seized a glass, filled it, and gaveit to her. I covered my eyes with my hands and began to say a prayer--Ican't remember what... Yes, my friend, many a time have I seen peopledie in hospitals or on the field of battle, but this was somethingaltogether different! Still, this one thing grieves me, I must confess:she died without even once calling me to mind. Yet I loved her, I shouldthink, like a father!... Well, God forgive her!... And, to tell thetruth, what am I that she should have remembered me when she wasdying?...
"As soon as she had drunk the water, she grew easier--but in about threeminutes she breathed her last! We put a looking-glass to her lips--itwas undimmed!
"I led Pechorin from the room, and we went on to the fortress rampart.For a long time we walked side by side, to and fro, speaking not a wordand with our hands clasped behind our backs. His face expressed nothingout of the common--and that vexed me. Had I been in his place, I shouldhave died of grief. At length he sat down on the ground in the shade andbegan to draw something in the sand with his stick. More for form's sakethan anything, you know, I tried to console him and began to talk. Heraised his head and burst into a laugh! At that laugh a cold shudder ranthrough me... I went away to order a coffin.
"I confess it was partly to distract my thoughts that I busied myself inthat way. I possessed a little piece of Circassian stuff, and I coveredthe coffin with it, and decked it with some Circassian silver lace whichGrigori Aleksandrovich had bought for Bela herself.
"Early next morning we buried her behind the fortress, by the river,beside the spot where she had sat for the last time. Around her littlegrave white acacia shrubs and elder-trees have now grown up. Ishould have liked to erect a cross, but that would not have done, youknow--after all, she was not a Christian."
"And what of Pechorin?" I asked.
"Pechorin was ill for a long time, and grew thin, poor fellow; butwe never spoke of Bela from that time forth. I saw that it would bedisagreeable to him, so what would have been the use? About three monthslater he was appointed to the E----Regiment, and departed for Georgia.We have never met since. Yet, when I come to think of it, somebody toldme not long ago that he had returned to Russia--but it was not in thegeneral orders for the corps. Besides, to the like of us news is late incoming."
Hereupon--probably to drown sad memories--he launched forth into alengthy dissertation on the unpleasantness of learning news a year late.
I did not interrupt him, nor did I listen.
In an hour's time a chance of proceeding on our journey presenteditself. The snowstorm subsided, the sky became clear, and we set off. Onthe way I involuntarily let the conversation turn on Bela and Pechorin.
"You have not heard what became of Kazbich?" I asked.
"Kazbich? In truth, I don't know. I have heard that with the Shapsugs,on our right flank, there is a certain Kazbich, a dare-devil fellow whorides about at a walking pace, in a red tunic, under our bullets, andbows politely whenever one hums near him--but it can scarcely be thesame person!"...
In Kobi, Maksim Maksimych and I parted company. I posted on, and he,on account of his
heavy luggage, was unable to follow me. We had noexpectation of ever meeting again, but meet we did, and, if you like,I will tell you how--it is quite a history... You must acknowledge,though, that Maksim Maksimych is a man worthy of all respect... Ifyou admit that, I shall be fully rewarded for my, perhaps, too lengthystory.
A Hero of Our Time Page 11