A Hero of Our Time
Page 28
CHAPTER XIII. 18th June.
I HAVE been in Kislovodsk three days now. Every day I see Vera at thewell and out walking. In the morning, when I awake, I sit by my windowand direct my lorgnette at her balcony. She has already been dressedlong ago, and is waiting for the signal agreed upon. We meet, as thoughunexpectedly, in the garden which slopes down from our houses to thewell. The life-giving mountain air has brought back her colour and herstrength. Not for nothing is Narzan called the "Spring of Heroes." Theinhabitants aver that the air of Kislovodsk predisposes the heart tolove and that all the romances which have had their beginning at thefoot of Mount Mashuk find their consummation here. And, in veryfact, everything here breathes of solitude; everything has an air ofsecrecy--the thick shadows of the linden avenues, bending over thetorrent which falls, noisy and foaming, from flag to flag and cleavesitself a way between the mountains now becoming clad with verdure--themist-filled, silent ravines, with their ramifications straggling awayin all directions--the freshness of the aromatic air, laden withthe fragrance of the tall southern grasses and the white acacia--thenever-ceasing, sweetly-slumberous babble of the cool brooks, which,meeting at the end of the valley, flow along in friendly emulation, andfinally fling themselves into the Podkumok. On this side, the ravine iswider and becomes converted into a verdant dell, through which windsthe dusty road. Every time I look at it, I seem to see a carriage comingalong and a rosy little face looking out of the carriage-window. Manycarriages have already driven by--but still there is no sign of thatparticular one. The village which lies behind the fortress has becomepopulous. In the restaurant, built upon a hill a few paces distant frommy lodgings, lights are beginning to flash in the evening through thedouble row of poplars; noise and the jingling of glasses resound tilllate at night.
In no place are such quantities of Kakhetian wine and mineral watersdrunk as here.
"And many are willing to mix the two,
But that is a thing I never do."
Every day Grushnitski and his gang are to be found brawling in the inn,and he has almost ceased to greet me.
He only arrived yesterday, and has already succeeded in quarrelling withthree old men who were going to take their places in the baths beforehim.
Decidedly, his misfortunes are developing a warlike spirit within him.