A Hero of Our Time

by Mikhail Iurevich Lermontov

  CHAPTER III. 16th May.

  IN the course of two days my affairs have gained ground tremendously.Princess Mary positively hates me. Already I have had repeated to me twoor three epigrams on the subject of myself--rather caustic, but at thesame time very flattering. She finds it exceedingly strange that I, whoam accustomed to good society, and am so intimate with her Petersburgcousins and aunts, do not try to make her acquaintance. Every day wemeet at the well and on the boulevard. I exert all my powers to enticeaway her adorers, glittering aides-de-camp, pale-faced visitors fromMoscow, and others--and I almost always succeed. I have always hatedentertaining guests: now my house is full every day; they dine, sup,gamble, and alas! my champagne triumphs over the might of PrincessMary's magnetic eyes!

  I met her yesterday in Chelakhov's shop. She was bargaining for amarvellous Persian rug, and implored her mother not to be niggardly: therug would be such an ornament to her boudoir... I outbid her by fortyrubles, and bought it over her head. I was rewarded with a glance inwhich the most delightful fury sparkled. About dinnertime, I ordered myCircassian horse, covered with that very rug, purposely to be led pasther windows. Werner was with the princesses at the time, and told methat the effect of the scene was most dramatic. Princess Mary wishes topreach a crusade against me, and I have even noticed that, already,two of the aides-de-camp salute me very coldly, when they are in herpresence--they dine with me every day, however.

  Grushnitski has assumed an air of mystery; he walks with his arms foldedbehind his back and does not recognise anyone. His foot has got wellall at once, and there is hardly a sign of a limp. He has found anopportunity of entering into conversation with Princess Ligovski and ofpaying Princess Mary some kind of a compliment. The latter is evidentlynot very fastidious, for, ever since, she answers his bow with a mostcharming smile.

  "Are you sure you do not wish to make the Ligovskis' acquaintance?" hesaid to me yesterday.

  "Positive."

  "Good gracious! The pleasantest house at the waters! All the bestsociety of Pyatigorsk is to be found there"...

  "My friend, I am terribly tired of even other society than that ofPyatigorsk. So you visit the Ligovskis?"

  "Not yet. I have spoken to Princess Mary once or twice, but that isall. You know it is rather awkward to go and visit them without beinginvited, although that is the custom here... It would be a differentmatter if I was wearing epaulettes"...

  "Good heavens! Why, you are much more interesting as it is! You simplydo not know how to avail yourself of your advantageous position... Why,that soldier's cloak makes a hero and a martyr of you in the eyes of anylady of sentiment!"

  Grushnitski smiled complacently.

  "What nonsense!" he said.

  "I am convinced," I continued, "that Princess Mary is in love with youalready."

  He blushed up to the ears and looked big.

  Oh, vanity! Thou art the lever with which Archimedes was to lift theearthly sphere!...

  "You are always jesting!" he said, pretending to be angry. "In the firstplace, she knows so little of me as yet"...

  "Women love only those whom they do not know!"

  "But I have no pretensions whatsoever to pleasing her. I simply wishto make the acquaintance of an agreeable household; and it would beextremely ridiculous if I were to cherish the slightest hope... Withyou, now, for instance, it is a different matter! You Petersburgconquerors! You have but to look--and women melt... But do you know,Pechorin, what Princess Mary said of you?"...

  "What? She has spoken to you already about me?"...

  "Do not rejoice too soon, though. The other day, by chance, I enteredinto conversation with her at the well; her third word was, 'Who isthat gentleman with such an unpleasant, heavy glance? He was with youwhen'... she blushed, and did not like to mention the day, rememberingher own delightful little exploit. 'You need not tell me what day itwas,' I answered; 'it will ever be present to my memory!'... Pechorin,my friend, I cannot congratulate you, you are in her black books... And,indeed, it is a pity, because Mary is a charming girl!"...

  It must be observed that Grushnitski is one of those men who, inspeaking of a woman with whom they are barely acquainted, call her myMary, my Sophie, if she has had the good fortune to please them.

  I assumed a serious air and answered:

  "Yes, she is good-looking... Only be careful, Grushnitski! Russianladies, for the most part, cherish only Platonic love, without minglingany thought of matrimony with it; and Platonic love is exceedinglyembarrassing. Princess Mary seems to be one of those women who want tobe amused. If she is bored in your company for two minutes on end--youare lost irrevocably. Your silence ought to excite her curiosity, yourconversation ought never to satisfy it completely; you should alarm herevery minute; ten times, in public, she will slight people's opinion foryou and will call that a sacrifice, and, in order to requite herself forit, she will torment you. Afterwards she will simply say that she cannotendure you. If you do not acquire authority over her, even her firstkiss will not give you the right to a second. She will flirt with you toher heart's content, and, in two years' time, she will marry a monster,in obedience to her mother, and will assure herself that she is unhappy,that she has loved only one man--that is to say, you--but that Heavenwas not willing to unite her to him because he wore a soldier's cloak,although beneath that thick, grey cloak beat a heart, passionate andnoble"...

  Grushnitski smote the table with his fist and fell to walking to and froacross the room.

  I laughed inwardly and even smiled once or twice, but fortunately he didnot notice. It is evident that he is in love, because he has grown evenmore confiding than heretofore. Moreover, a ring has made its appearanceon his finger, a silver ring with black enamel of local workmanship. Itstruck me as suspicious... I began to examine it, and what do you thinkI saw? The name Mary was engraved on the inside in small letters, and ina line with the name was the date on which she had picked up thefamous tumbler. I kept my discovery a secret. I do not want to forceconfessions from him, I want him, of his own accord, to choose me as hisconfidant--and then I will enjoy myself!...

  *****

  To-day I rose late. I went to the well. I found nobody there. Theday grew hot. White, shaggy cloudlets were flitting rapidly from thesnow-clad mountains, giving promise of a thunderstorm; the summit ofMount Mashuk was smoking like a just extinguished torch; grey wisps ofcloud were coiling and creeping like snakes around it, arrested intheir rapid sweep and, as it were, hooked to its prickly brushwood. Theatmosphere was charged with electricity. I plunged into the avenue ofthe vines leading to the grotto.

  I felt low-spirited. I was thinking of the lady with the little mole onher cheek, of whom the doctor had spoken to me... "Why is she here?" Ithought. "And is it she? And what reason have I for thinking it is? Andwhy am I so certain of it? Is there not many a woman with a mole on hercheek?" Reflecting in such wise I came right up to the grotto. I lookedin and I saw that a woman, wearing a straw hat and wrapped in a blackshawl, was sitting on a stone seat in the cold shade of the arch. Herhead was sunk upon her breast, and the hat covered her face. I was justabout to turn back, in order not to disturb her meditations, when sheglanced at me.

  "Vera!" I exclaimed involuntarily.

  She started and turned pale.

  "I knew that you were here," she said.

  I sat down beside her and took her hand. A long-forgotten tremor ranthrough my veins at the sound of that dear voice. She gazed into myface with her deep, calm eyes. Mistrust and something in the nature ofreproach were expressed in her glance.

  "We have not seen each other for a long time," I said.

  "A long time, and we have both changed in many ways."

  "Consequently you love me no longer?"...

  "I am married!"... she said.

  "Again? A few years ago, however, that reason also existed, but,nevertheless"...

  She plucked her hand away from mine and her cheeks flamed.

  "Perhaps you love your second husband?"...
>
  She made no answer and turned her head away.

  "Or is he very jealous?"

  She remained silent.

  "What then? He is young, handsome and, I suppose, rich--which is thechief thing--and you are afraid?"...

  I glanced at her and was alarmed. Profound despair was depicted upon hercountenance; tears were glistening in her eyes.

  "Tell me," she whispered at length, "do you find it very amusing totorture me? I ought to hate you. Since we have known each other, youhave given me naught but suffering"...

  Her voice shook; she leaned over to me, and let her head sink upon mybreast.

  "Perhaps," I reflected, "it is for that very reason that you have lovedme; joys are forgotten, but sorrows never"...

  I clasped her closely to my breast, and so we remained for a longtime. At length our lips drew closer and became blent in a fervent,intoxicating kiss. Her hands were cold as ice; her head was burning.

  And hereupon we embarked upon one of those conversations which, onpaper, have no sense, which it is impossible to repeat, and impossibleeven to retain in memory. The meaning of the sounds replaces andcompletes the meaning of the words, as in Italian opera.

  She is decidedly averse to my making the acquaintance of her husband,the lame old man of whom I had caught a glimpse on the boulevard.She married him for the sake of her son. He is rich, and suffers fromattacks of rheumatism. I did not allow myself even a single scoff athis expense. She respects him as a father, and will deceive him as ahusband... A strange thing, the human heart in general, and woman'sheart in particular.

  Vera's husband, Semyon Vasilevich G----v, is a distant relation ofPrincess Ligovski. He lives next door to her. Vera frequently visitsthe Princess. I have given her my promise to make the Ligovskis'acquaintance, and to pay court to Princess Mary in order to distractattention from Vera. In such way, my plans have been not a littlederanged, but it will be amusing for me...

  Amusing!... Yes, I have already passed that period of spirituallife when happiness alone is sought, when the heart feels the urgentnecessity of violently and passionately loving somebody. Now my onlywish is to be loved, and that by very few. I even think that I would becontent with one constant attachment. A wretched habit of the heart!...

  One thing has always struck me as strange. I have never made myself theslave of the woman I have loved. On the contrary, I have always acquiredan invincible power over her will and heart, without in the leastendeavouring to do so. Why is this? Is it because I never esteemanything highly, and she has been continually afraid to let me out ofher hands? Or is it the magnetic influence of a powerful organism? Or isit, simply, that I have never succeeded in meeting a woman of stubborncharacter?

  I must confess that, in fact, I do not love women who possess strengthof character. What business have they with such a thing?

  Indeed, I remember now. Once and once only did I love a woman who hada firm will which I was never able to vanquish... We parted asenemies--and then, perhaps, if I had met her five years later we wouldhave parted otherwise...

  Vera is ill, very ill, although she does not admit it. I fear she hasconsumption, or that disease which is called "fievre lente"--a quiteunRussian disease, and one for which there is no name in our language.

  The storm overtook us while in the grotto and detained us half an hourlonger. Vera did not make me swear fidelity, or ask whether I had lovedothers since we had parted... She trusted in me anew with all her formerunconcern, and I will not deceive her: she is the only woman in theworld whom it would never be within my power to deceive. I know that weshall soon have to part again, and perchance for ever. We will both goby different ways to the grave, but her memory will remain inviolablewithin my soul. I have always repeated this to her, and she believes me,although she says she does not.

  At length we separated. For a long time I followed her with my eyes,until her hat was hidden behind the shrubs and rocks. My heart waspainfully contracted, just as after our first parting. Oh, how Irejoiced in that emotion! Can it be that youth is about to come back tome, with its salutary tempests, or is this only the farewell glance, thelast gift--in memory of itself?... And to think that, in appearance,I am still a boy! My face, though pale, is still fresh; my limbs aresupple and slender; my hair is thick and curly, my eyes sparkle, myblood boils...

  Returning home, I mounted on horseback and galloped to the steppe. Ilove to gallop on a fiery horse through the tall grass, in the face ofthe desert wind; greedily I gulp down the fragrant air and fix my gazeupon the blue distance, endeavouring to seize the misty outlines ofobjects which every minute grow clearer and clearer. Whatever griefsoppress my heart, whatever disquietudes torture my thoughts--all aredispersed in a moment; my soul becomes at ease; the fatigue of the bodyvanquishes the disturbance of the mind. There is not a woman's glancewhich I would not forget at the sight of the tufted mountains, illuminedby the southern sun; at the sight of the dark-blue sky, or in hearkeningto the roar of the torrent as it falls from cliff to cliff.

  I believe that the Cossacks, yawning on their watch-towers, when theysaw me galloping thus needlessly and aimlessly, were long tormentedby that enigma, because from my dress, I am sure, they took me to be aCircassian. I have, in fact, been told that when riding on horseback, inmy Circassian costume, I resemble a Kabardian more than many a Kabardianhimself. And, indeed, so far as regards that noble, warlike garb, I ama perfect dandy. I have not a single piece of gold lace too much; myweapon is costly, but simply wrought; the fur on my cap is neither toolong nor too short; my leggings and shoes are matched with all possibleaccuracy; my tunic is white; my Circassian jacket, dark-brown. I havelong studied the mountaineer seat on horseback, and in no way is itpossible to flatter my vanity so much as by acknowledging my skill inhorsemanship in the Cossack mode. I keep four horses--one for myself andthree for my friends, so that I may not be bored by having to roam aboutthe fields all alone; they take my horses with pleasure, and never ridewith me.

  It was already six o'clock in the evening, when I remembered that it wastime to dine. My horse was jaded. I rode out on to the road leadingfrom Pyatigorsk to the German colony, to which the society of thewatering-place frequently rides en piquenique. The road meanders betweenbushes and descends into little ravines, through which flow noisy brooksbeneath the shade of tall grasses. All around, in an amphitheatre,rise the blue masses of Mount Beshtau and the Zmeiny, Zhelezny and LysyMountains. [26] Descending into one of those ravines, I halted to watermy horse. At that moment a noisy and glittering cavalcade made itsappearance upon the road--the ladies in black and dark-blue ridinghabits, the cavaliers in costumes which formed a medley of theCircassian and Nizhegorodian. [27] In front rode Grushnitski withPrincess Mary.

  The ladies at the watering-place still believe in attacks by Circassiansin broad daylight; for that reason, doubtless, Grushnitski had slunga sabre and a pair of pistols over his soldier's cloak. He lookedridiculous enough in that heroic attire.

  I was concealed from their sight by a tall bush, but I was able to seeeverything through the leaves, and to guess from the expression of theirfaces that the conversation was of a sentimental turn. At lengththey approached the slope; Grushnitski took hold of the bridle of thePrincess's horse, and then I heard the conclusion of their conversation:

  "And you wish to remain all your life in the Caucasus?" said PrincessMary.

  "What is Russia to me?" answered her cavalier. "A country in whichthousands of people, because they are richer than I, will look upon mewith contempt, whilst here--here this thick cloak has not prevented myacquaintance with you"...

  "On the contrary"... said Princess Mary, blushing.

  Grushnitski's face was a picture of delight. He continued:

  "Here, my life will flow along noisily, unobserved, and rapidly, underthe bullets of the savages, and if Heaven were every year to send me asingle bright glance from a woman's eyes--like that which--"

  At that moment they came up to where I was. I struck my horse with thewhip and rode ou
t from behind the bush...

  "Mon Dieu, un circassien!"... exclaimed Princess Mary in terror.

  In order completely to undeceive her, I replied in French, with a slightbow:

  "Ne craignez rien, madame, je ne suis pas plus dangereux que votrecavalier"...

  She grew embarrassed--but at what? At her own mistake, or because myanswer struck her as insolent? I should like the latter hypothesis to becorrect. Grushnitski cast a discontented glance at me.

  Late in the evening, that is to say, about eleven o'clock, I went for awalk in the lilac avenue of the boulevard. The town was sleeping; lightswere gleaming in only a few windows. On three sides loomed the blackridges of the cliffs, the spurs of Mount Mashuk, upon the summit ofwhich an ominous cloud was lying. The moon was rising in the east; inthe distance, the snow-clad mountains glistened like a fringe of silver.The calls of the sentries mingled at intervals with the roar of the hotsprings let flow for the night. At times the loud clattering of a horserang out along the street, accompanied by the creaking of a Nagai wagonand the plaintive burden of a Tartar song.

  I sat down upon a bench and fell into a reverie... I felt the necessityof pouring forth my thoughts in friendly conversation... But withwhom?...

  "What is Vera doing now?" I wondered.

  I would have given much to press her hand at that moment.

  All at once I heard rapid and irregular steps... Grushnitski, nodoubt!... So it was!

  "Where have you come from?"

  "From Princess Ligovski's," he said very importantly. "How well Marydoes sing!"...

  "Do you know?" I said to him. "I wager that she does not know that youare a cadet. She thinks you are an officer reduced to the ranks"...

  "Maybe so. What is that to me!"... he said absently.

  "No, I am only saying so"...

  "But, do you know that you have made her terribly angry to-day? Sheconsidered it an unheard-of piece of insolence. It was only withdifficulty that I was able to convince her that you are so well bredand know society so well that you could not have had any intention ofinsulting her. She says that you have an impudent glance, and that youhave certainly a very high opinion of yourself."

  "She is not mistaken... But do you not want to defend her?"

  "I am sorry I have not yet the right to do so"...

  "Oho!" I said to myself, "evidently he has hopes already."

  "However, it is the worse for you," continued Grushnitski; "it will bedifficult for you to make their acquaintance now, and what a pity! It isone of the most agreeable houses I know"...

  I smiled inwardly.

  "The most agreeable house to me now is my own," I said, with a yawn, andI got up to go.

  "Confess, though, you repent?"...

  "What nonsense! If I like I will be at Princess Ligovski's to-morrowevening!"...

  "We shall see"...

  "I will even begin to pay my addresses to Princess Mary, if you wouldlike me to"...

  "Yes, if she is willing to speak to you"...

  "I am only awaiting the moment when she will be bored by yourconversation... Goodbye"...

  "Well, I am going for a stroll; I could not go to sleep now foranything... Look here, let us go to the restaurant instead, there iscardplaying going on there... What I need now is violent sensations"...

  "I hope you will lose"...

  I went home.