CHAPTER XV. 24th June.
THIS evening has been fertile in events. About three versts fromKislovodsk, in the gorge through which the Podkumok flows, there isa cliff called the Ring. It is a naturally formed gate, rising upona lofty hill, and through it the setting sun throws its last flamingglance upon the world. A numerous cavalcade set off thither to gaze atthe sunset through the rock-window. To tell the truth, not one of themwas thinking about the sun. I rode beside Princess Mary. On the wayhome, we had to ford the Podkumok. Mountain streams, even thesmallest, are dangerous; especially so, because the bottom is a perfectkaleidoscope: it changes every day owing to the pressure of the current;where yesterday there was a rock, to-day there is a cavity. I tookPrincess Mary's horse by the bridle and led it into the water, whichcame no higher than its knees. We began to move slowly in a slantingdirection against the current. It is a well-known fact that, in crossingrapid streamlets, you should never look at the water, because, if youdo, your head begins to whirl directly. I forgot to warn Princess Maryof that.
We had reached the middle and were right in the vortex, when suddenlyshe reeled in her saddle.
"I feel ill!" she said in a faint voice.
I bent over to her rapidly and threw my arm around her supple waist.
"Look up!" I whispered. "It is nothing; just be brave! I am with you."
She grew better; she was about to disengage herself from my arm, butI clasped her tender, soft figure in a still closer embrace; my cheekalmost touched hers, from which was wafted flame.
"What are you doing to me?... Oh, Heaven!"...
I paid no attention to her alarm and confusion, and my lips touched hertender cheek. She shuddered, but said nothing. We were riding behind theothers: nobody saw us.
When we made our way out on the bank, the horses were all put to thetrot. Princess Mary kept hers back; I remained beside her. It wasevident that my silence was making her uneasy, but I swore to myselfthat I would not speak a single word--out of curiosity. I wanted to seehow she would extricate herself from that embarrassing position.
"Either you despise me, or you love me very much!" she said at length,and there were tears in her voice. "Perhaps you want to laugh at me, toexcite my soul and then to abandon me... That would be so base, so vile,that the mere supposition... Oh, no!" she added, in a voice of tendertrustfulness; "there is nothing in me which would preclude respect; isit not so? Your presumptuous action... I must, I must forgive youfor it, because I permitted it... Answer, speak, I want to hear yourvoice!"...
There was such womanly impatience in her last words that, involuntarily,I smiled; happily it was beginning to grow dusk... I made no answer.
"You are silent!" she continued; "you wish, perhaps, that I should bethe first to tell you that I love you."...
I remained silent.
"Is that what you wish?" she continued, turning rapidly towards me....There was something terrible in the determination of her glance andvoice.
"Why?" I answered, shrugging my shoulders.
She struck her horse with her riding-whip and set off at full gallopalong the narrow, dangerous road. It all happened so quickly that I wasscarcely able to overtake her, and then only by the time she had joinedthe rest of the company.
All the way home she was continually talking and laughing. Therewas something feverish in her movements; not once did she look in mydirection. Everybody observed her unusual gaiety. Princess Ligovskirejoiced inwardly as she looked at her daughter. However, the lattersimply has a fit of nerves: she will spend a sleepless night, and willweep.
This thought affords me measureless delight: there are moments when Iunderstand the Vampire... And yet I am reputed to be a good fellow, andI strive to earn that designation!
On dismounting, the ladies went into Princess Ligovski's house. I wasexcited, and I galloped to the mountains in order to dispel thethoughts which had thronged into my head. The dewy evening breathed anintoxicating coolness. The moon was rising from behind the dark summits.Each step of my unshod horse resounded hollowly in the silence of thegorges. I watered the horse at the waterfall, and then, after greedilyinhaling once or twice the fresh air of the southern night.
I set off on my way back.
I rode through the village. The lights in the windows were beginning togo out; the sentries on the fortress-rampart and the Cossacks in thesurrounding pickets were calling out in drawling tones to one another.
In one of the village houses, built at the edge of a ravine, I noticedan extraordinary illumination. At times, discordant murmurs and shoutingcould be heard, proving that a military carouse was in full swing. Idismounted and crept up to the window. The shutter had not been madefast, and I could see the banqueters and catch what they were saying.They were talking about me.
The captain of dragoons, flushed with wine, struck the table with hisfist, demanding attention.
"Gentlemen!" he said, "this won't do! Pechorin must be taught a lesson!These Petersburg fledglings always carry their heads high until they geta slap in the face! He thinks that because he always wears clean glovesand polished boots he is the only one who has ever lived in society.And what a haughty smile! All the same, I am convinced that he is acoward--yes, a coward!"
"I think so too," said Grushnitski. "He is fond of getting himself outof trouble by pretending to be only having a joke. I once gave him sucha talking to that anyone else in his place would have cut me to pieceson the spot. But Pechorin turned it all to the ridiculous side. I, ofcourse, did not call him out because that was his business, but he didnot care to have anything more to do with it."
"Grushnitski is angry with him for having captured Princess Mary fromhim," somebody said.
"That's a new idea! It is true I did run after Princess Mary a little,but I left off at once because I do not want to get married; and it isagainst my rules to compromise a girl."
"Yes, I assure you that he is a coward of the first water, I meanPechorin, not Grushnitski--but Grushnitski is a fine fellow, and,besides, he is my true friend!" the captain of dragoons went on.
"Gentlemen! Nobody here stands up for him? Nobody? So much the better!Would you like to put his courage to the test? It would be amusing"...
"We would; but how?"
"Listen here, then: Grushnitski in particular is angry withhim--therefore to Grushnitski falls the chief part. He will pick aquarrel over some silly trifle or other, and will challenge Pechorinto a duel... Wait a bit; here is where the joke comes in... He willchallenge him to a duel; very well! The whole proceeding--challenge,preparations, conditions--will be as solemn and awe-inspiring aspossible--I will see to that. I will be your second, my poor friend!Very well! Only here is the rub; we will put no bullets in the pistols.I can answer for it that Pechorin will turn coward--I will place themsix paces apart, devil take it! Are you agreed, gentlemen?"
"Splendid idea!... Agreed!... And why not?"... came from all sides.
"And you, Grushnitski?"
Tremblingly I awaited Grushnitski's answer. I was filled with cold rageat the thought that, but for an accident, I might have made myself thelaughing-stock of those fools. If Grushnitski had not agreed, I shouldhave thrown myself upon his neck; but, after an interval of silence,he rose from his place, extended his hand to the captain, and said verygravely:
"Very well, I agree!"
It would be difficult to describe the enthusiasm of that honourablecompany.
I returned home, agitated by two different feelings. The first wassorrow.
"Why do they all hate me?" I thought--"why? Have I affronted anyone? No.Can it be that I am one of those men the mere sight of whom is enough tocreate animosity?"
And I felt a venomous rage gradually filling my soul.
"Have a care, Mr. Grushnitski!" I said, walking up and down the room:"I am not to be jested with like this! You may pay dearly for theapprobation of your foolish comrades. I am not your toy!"...
I got no sleep that night. By daybreak I was as yellow as an orange.
In the morning I met Princess Mary at the well.
"You are ill?" she said, looking intently at me.
"I did not sleep last night."
"Nor I either... I was accusing you... perhaps groundlessly. But explainyourself, I can forgive you everything"...
"Everything?"...
"Everything... only speak the truth... and be quick... You see, Ihave been thinking a good deal, trying to explain, to justify, yourbehaviour. Perhaps you are afraid of opposition on the part of myrelations... that will not matter. When they learn"...
Her voice shook.
"I will win them over by entreaties. Or, is it your own position?...But you know that I can sacrifice everything for the sake of the man Ilove... Oh, answer quickly--have pity... You do not despise me--do you?"
She seized my hand.
Princess Ligovski was walking in front of us with Vera's husband, andhad not seen anything; but we might have been observed by some of theinvalids who were strolling about--the most inquisitive gossips of allinquisitive folk--and I rapidly disengaged my hand from her passionatepressure.
"I will tell you the whole truth," I answered. "I will not justifymyself, nor explain my actions: I do not love you."
Her lips grew slightly pale.
"Leave me," she said, in a scarcely audible voice.
I shrugged my shoulders, turned round, and walked away.
A Hero of Our Time Page 30