A Hero of Our Time

by Mikhail Iurevich Lermontov

  CHAPTER II. 13th May.

  THIS morning the doctor came to see me. His name is Werner, but he isa Russian. What is there surprising in that? I have known a man namedIvanov, who was a German.

  Werner is a remarkable man, and that for many reasons. Like almost allmedical men he is a sceptic and a materialist, but, at the same time, heis a genuine poet--a poet always in deeds and often in words, althoughhe has never written two verses in his life. He has mastered all theliving chords of the human heart, just as one learns the veins of acorpse, but he has never known how to avail himself of his knowledge. Inlike manner, it sometimes happens that an excellent anatomist does notknow how to cure a fever. Werner usually made fun of his patients inprivate; but once I saw him weeping over a dying soldier... He was poor,and dreamed of millions, but he would not take a single step out of hisway for the sake of money. He once told me that he would rather do afavour to an enemy than to a friend, because, in the latter case,it would mean selling his beneficence, whilst hatred only increasesproportionately to the magnanimity of the adversary. He had a malicioustongue; and more than one good, simple soul has acquired the reputationof a vulgar fool through being labelled with one of his epigrams. Hisrivals, envious medical men of the watering-place, spread the reportthat he was in the habit of drawing caricatures of his patients. Thepatients were incensed, and almost all of them discarded him. Hisfriends, that is to say all the genuinely well-bred people who wereserving in the Caucasus, vainly endeavoured to restore his fallencredit.

  His outward appearance was of the type which, at the first glance,creates an unpleasant impression, but which you get to like in course oftime, when the eye learns to read in the irregular features the stamp ofa tried and lofty soul. Instances have been known of women falling madlyin love with men of that sort, and having no desire to exchange theirugliness for the beauty of the freshest and rosiest of Endymions.We must give women their due: they possess an instinct for spiritualbeauty, for which reason, possibly, men such as Werner love women sopassionately.

  Werner was small and lean and as weak as a baby. One of his legs wasshorter than the other, as was the case with Byron. In comparison withhis body, his head seemed enormous. His hair was cropped close, andthe unevennesses of his cranium, thus laid bare, would have struck aphrenologist by reason of the strange intertexture of contradictorypropensities. His little, ever restless, black eyes seemed as if theywere endeavouring to fathom your thoughts. Taste and neatness were to beobserved in his dress. His small, lean, sinewy hands flaunted themselvesin bright-yellow gloves. His frock-coat, cravat and waistcoat wereinvariably of black. The young men dubbed him Mephistopheles; hepretended to be angry at the nickname, but in reality it flattered hisvanity. Werner and I soon understood each other and became friends,because I, for my part, am illadapted for friendship. Of two friends,one is always the slave of the other, although frequently neitheracknowledges the fact to himself. Now, the slave I could not be; and tobe the master would be a wearisome trouble, because, at the same time,deception would be required. Besides, I have servants and money!

  Our friendship originated in the following circumstances. I met Wernerat S----, in the midst of a numerous and noisy circle of youngpeople. Towards the end of the evening the conversation took aphilosophico-metaphysical turn. We discussed the subject of convictions,and each of us had some different conviction to declare.

  "So far as I am concerned," said the doctor, "I am convinced of onething only"...

  "And that is--?" I asked, desirous of learning the opinion of a man whohad been silent till then.

  "Of the fact," he answered, "that sooner or later, one fine morning, Ishall die."

  "I am better off than you," I said. "In addition to that, I have afurther conviction, namely, that, one very nasty evening, I had themisfortune to be born."

  All the others considered that we were talking nonsense, but indeed notone of them said anything more sensible. From that moment we singledeach other out amongst the crowd. We used frequently to meet and discussabstract subjects in a very serious manner, until each observed that theother was throwing dust in his eyes. Then, looking significantly at eachother--as, according to Cicero, the Roman augurs used to do--wewould burst out laughing heartily and, having had our laugh, we wouldseparate, well content with our evening.

  I was lying on a couch, my eyes fixed upon the ceiling and my handsclasped behind my head, when Werner entered my room. He sat down in aneasy chair, placed his cane in a corner, yawned, and announced that itwas getting hot out of doors. I replied that the flies were botheringme--and we both fell silent.

  "Observe, my dear doctor," I said, "that, but for fools, the world wouldbe a very dull place. Look! Here are you and I, both sensible men!We know beforehand that it is possible to dispute ad infinitum abouteverything--and so we do not dispute. Each of us knows almost all theother's secret thoughts: to us a single word is a whole history; we seethe grain of every one of our feelings through a threefold husk. Whatis sad, we laugh at; what is laughable, we grieve at; but, to tell thetruth, we are fairly indifferent, generally speaking, to everythingexcept ourselves. Consequently, there can be no interchange of feelingsand thoughts between us; each of us knows all he cares to know aboutthe other, and that knowledge is all he wants. One expedient remains--totell the news. So tell me some news."

  Fatigued by this lengthy speech, I closed my eyes and yawned. The doctoranswered after thinking awhile:

  "There is an idea, all the same, in that nonsense of yours."

  "Two," I replied.

  "Tell me one, and I will tell you the other."

  "Very well, begin!" I said, continuing to examine the ceiling andsmiling inwardly.

  "You are anxious for information about some of the new-comers here, andI can guess who it is, because they, for their part, have already beeninquiring about you."

  "Doctor! Decidedly it is impossible for us to hold a conversation! Weread into each other's soul."

  "Now the other idea?"...

  "Here it is: I wanted to make you relate something, for the followingreasons: firstly, listening is less fatiguing than talking; secondly,the listener cannot commit himself; thirdly, he can learn another'ssecret; fourthly, sensible people, such as you, prefer listeners tospeakers. Now to business; what did Princess Ligovski tell you aboutme?"

  "You are quite sure that it was Princess Ligovski... and not PrincessMary?"...

  "Quite sure."

  "Why?"

  "Because Princess Mary inquired about Grushnitski."

  "You are gifted with a fine imagination! Princess Mary said that she wasconvinced that the young man in the soldier's cloak had been reduced tothe ranks on account of a duel"...

  "I hope you left her cherishing that pleasant delusion"...

  "Of course"...

  "A plot!" I exclaimed in rapture. "We will make it our business to seeto the denouement of this little comedy. It is obvious that fate istaking care that I shall not be bored!"

  "I have a presentiment," said the doctor, "that poor Grushnitski will beyour victim."

  "Proceed, doctor."

  "Princess Ligovski said that your face was familiar to her. I observedthat she had probably met you in Petersburg--somewhere in society...I told her your name. She knew it well. It appears that your historycreated a great stir there... She began to tell us of your adventures,most likely supplementing the gossip of society with observations of herown... Her daughter listened with curiosity. In her imagination youhave become the hero of a novel in a new style... I did not contradictPrincess Ligovski, although I knew that she was talking nonsense."

  "Worthy friend!" I said, extending my hand to him.

  The doctor pressed it feelingly and continued:

  "If you like I will present you"...

  "Good heavens!" I said, clapping my hands. "Are heroes ever presented?In no other way do they make the acquaintance of their beloved than bysaving her from certain death!"...

  "And you really wish to court Princess Mary?"<
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  "Not at all, far from it!... Doctor, I triumph at last! You do notunderstand me!... It vexes me, however," I continued after a moment'ssilence. "I never reveal my secrets myself, but I am exceedingly fond oftheir being guessed, because in that way I can always disavow them uponoccasion. However, you must describe both mother and daughter to me.What sort of people are they?"

  "In the first place, Princess Ligovski is a woman of forty-five,"answered Werner. "She has a splendid digestion, but her blood is out oforder--there are red spots on her cheeks. She has spent the latter halfof her life in Moscow, and has grown stout from leading an inactivelife there. She loves spicy stories, and sometimes says improper thingsherself when her daughter is out of the room. She has declared to methat her daughter is as innocent as a dove. What does that matter tome?... I was going to answer that she might be at her ease, because Iwould never tell anyone. Princess Ligovski is taking the cure for herrheumatism, and the daughter, for goodness knows what. I have orderedeach of them to drink two tumblers a day of sulphurous water, and tobathe twice a week in the diluted bath. Princess Ligovski isapparently unaccustomed to giving orders. She cherishes respect forthe intelligence and attainments of her daughter, who has read Byron inEnglish and knows algebra: in Moscow, evidently, the ladies have enteredupon the paths of erudition--and a good thing, too! The men here aregenerally so unamiable, that, for a clever woman, it must be intolerableto flirt with them. Princess Ligovski is very fond of young people;Princess Mary looks on them with a certain contempt--a Moscow habit! InMoscow they cherish only wits of not less than forty."

  "You have been in Moscow, doctor?"

  "Yes, I had a practice there."

  "Continue."

  "But I think I have told everything... No, there is something else:Princess Mary, it seems, loves to discuss emotions, passions, etcetera.She was in Petersburg for one winter, and disliked it--especially thesociety: no doubt she was coldly received."

  "You have not seen anyone with them today?"

  "On the contrary, there was an aide-de-camp, a stiff guardsman, and alady--one of the latest arrivals, a relation of Princess Ligovski on thehusband's side--very pretty, but apparently very ill... Have you not mether at the well? She is of medium height, fair, with regular features;she has the complexion of a consumptive, and there is a little blackmole on her right cheek. I was struck by the expressiveness of herface."

  "A mole!" I muttered through my teeth. "Is it possible?"

  The doctor looked at me, and, laying his hand on my heart, saidtriumphantly:

  "You know her!"

  My heart was, in fact, beating more violently than usual.

  "It is your turn, now, to triumph," I said. "But I rely on you: youwill not betray me. I have not seen her yet, but I am convinced that Irecognise from your portrait a woman whom I loved in the old days... Donot speak a word to her about me; if she asks any questions, give a badreport of me."

  "Be it so!" said Werner, shrugging his shoulders.

  When he had departed, my heart was compressed with terrible grief.Has destiny brought us together again in the Caucasus, or has she comehither on purpose, knowing that she would meet me?... And how shall wemeet?... And then, is it she?... My presentiments have never deceivedme. There is not a man in the world over whom the past has acquired sucha power as over me. Every recollection of bygone grief or joy strikesmy soul with morbid effect, and draws forth ever the same sounds... I amstupidly constituted: I forget nothing--nothing!

  After dinner, about six o'clock, I went on to the boulevard. It wascrowded. The two princesses were sitting on a bench, surrounded by youngmen, who were vying with each other in paying them attention. I tookup my position on another bench at a little distance off, stopped twoDragoon officers whom I knew, and proceeded to tell them something.Evidently it was amusing, because they began to laugh loudly like acouple of madmen. Some of those who were surrounding Princess Mary wereattracted to my side by curiosity, and gradually all of them left herand joined my circle. I did not stop talking; my anecdotes were cleverto the point of absurdity, my jests at the expense of the queer peoplepassing by, malicious to the point of frenzy. I continued to entertainthe public till sunset. Princess Mary passed by me a few times,arm-in-arm with her mother, and accompanied by a certain lame old man.A few times her glance as it fell upon me expressed vexation, whileendeavouring to express indifference...

  "What has he been telling you?" she inquired of one of the young men,who had gone back to her out of politeness. "No doubt a most interestingstory--his own exploits in battle?"...

  This was said rather loudly, and probably with the intention of stingingme.

  "Aha!" I thought to myself. "You are downright angry, my dear Princess.Wait awhile, there is more to follow."

  Grushnitski kept following her like a beast of prey, and would not lether out of his sight. I wager that to-morrow he will ask somebody topresent him to Princess Ligovski. She will be glad, because she isbored.