Mikhail Lermontov - A Hero of Our Time

"No one saw you?" Vera whispered, clinging to me.

"No!"

"Now do you believe that I love you? Oh, I have hesitated so long, tormented myself so long... but I am as clay in your hands."

Her heart pounded, and her hands were cold as ice. Then followed reproaches and jealous recriminations-she demanded a full confession, vowing she would meekly endure my faithlessness, for her only desire was to see me happy. I didn't quite believe that but nevertheless reassured her with vows, promises, and so on.

"So you're not going to marry Mary? You don't love her? And she thinks... do you know she is madly in love with you, the poor thing!..."

At about two o'clock in the morning I opened the window and, knotting two shawls together, let myself down from the upper balcony to the lower, holding on to a column as I did so. A light was still burning in Princess Mary's room. Something attracted me toward that window. The curtains were not drawn tight and I was able to cast a curious glance into the interior of the room. Mary was sitting on her bed, her hands crossed on her knees. Her abundant tresses had been gathered under a lace nightcap, a large scarlet shawl covered her white shoulders, and her tiny feet were concealed in a pair of brightly colored Persian slippers. She sat motionless, her head sunk on her breast; on a table before her lay an open book, but her fixed gaze, full of inexpressible sadness, seemed to be skimming one and the same page for the hundredth time, while her thoughts were far away...

Just then someone moved behind a bush. I jumped down to the lawn from the balcony. An invisible hand clamped down on my shoulder. "Aha!" said a gruff voice. "Got you! I'll teach you to go prowling in princesses' rooms at night!"

"Hold him fast!" yelled another, leaping from behind the corner.

It was Grushnitsky and the captain of dragoons.

I struck the latter on the head with my fist, knocking him down, and ran for the bushes. I knew all the paths in the garden covering the slope opposite our houses.

"Thieves! Help!" they shouted; a shot was fired; the glowing wad fell almost at my feet.

A minute later I was in my own room, undressed and in bed. My manservant had scarcely locked the door, when Grushnitsky and the captain began pounding on it.

"Pechorin! Are you asleep? Are you there?" the captain shouted.

"I'm in bed," I replied irritably.

"Get up! Thieves! The Circassians!"

"I have a cold," I replied, "I don't want to catch pneumonia."

They went away. I shouldn't have answered them. They'd have spent another hour searching for me in the garden. In the meantime the big alarm went up. A Cossack galloped down from the fort. All was astir, Circassians were being hunted in every bush, but of course, none were found. Many people, however, probably remained firmly convinced that had the garrison displayed greater courage and speed at least a dozen or two marauders could have been left for dead.

The Circassian night raid was the sole subject of conversation at the spring this morning. Having drunk the prescribed number of glasses of Narzan and walked some ten times up and down the long linden avenue, I met Vera's husband, who had just returned from Pyatigorsk. He took my arm and we went into the restaurant for breakfast. He was exceedingly worried about his wife. "She had a terrible fright last night!" he said. "A thing like this would have to happen, just when I was away!" We sat down for breakfast near the door leading to the corner room which was occupied by a dozen gallants, Grushnitsky among them. And for the second time Destiny offered me an opportunity to overhear a conversation that was to decide his fate. He didn't see me, and hence I couldn't conclude that he was talking deliberately for my benefit-but that only enhanced his guilt in my eyes.

"Could it really have been the Circassians?" said someone. "Did anyone see them?"

"I'll tell you the whole truth," replied Grushnitsky, "only I ask you not to give me away. This is what happened: last night a man, whose name I will not mention, came to me with the story that he had seen someone sneaking into the Ligovskoy house at about ten at night. Let me remind you that Princess Ligovskaya was here at the time, and Princess Mary at home. So I set out with him to lie in wait for the lucky fellow under her window."

I admit I was alarmed lest my companion, engrossed though he was with his breakfast, might hear some rather unpleasant things, supposing Grushnitsky had guessed the truth. Blinded by jealousy, however, the latter did not even suspect what had happened.

"So you see," Grushnitsky continued, "we set off taking along a gun loaded with a blank charge in order to give the fellow a fright. Until two o'clock we waited in the garden. Finally he appeared, the Lord knows from where, only it wasn't through the window because it didn't open-he probably came through the glass door hidden behind a column-finally, as I say, we saw somebody climbing down from the balcony... What do you think of the young princess, eh? I must admit, these Moscow ladies are incredible! What can you believe in after this? We tried to hold him, but he broke loose and scurried for the bushes like a rabbit-that's when I shot at him."

A murmur of incredulity broke out around Grushnitsky.

"You don't believe me?" he continued. "I give you my word of honor that this is the downright truth, and to prove it, perhaps I will mention the name of the gentleman in question."

"Who was it, who was it?" came from all sides.

"Pechorin," replied Grushnitsky.

At that moment he raised his eyes-to see me standing in the doorway facing him. He turned scarlet. I stepped up to him and said very slowly and distinctly: "I am very sorry that I entered after you had already given your word of honor in confirmation of the most abominable piece of slander. My presence might have saved you from that added villainy."

Grushnitsky leapt to his feet, all ready to flare up.

"I beg of you," I continued in the same tone of voice, "I beg of you to retract at once what you have said; you are very well aware that it is a lie. I do not believe that the indifference of a woman to your brilliant qualities deserves such dreadful retaliation. Think it over well: if you persist in your opinion, you forfeit any right to your reputation as a man of honor and risk your life."

Grushnitsky stood before me, eyes downcast, in violent agitation. But the struggle between conscience and vanity was brief. The captain of dragoons, who was sitting next to him, nudged him with his elbow. He twitched and quickly replied to me without raising his eyes: "My dear sir, when I say something, I mean it, and am ready to repeat it... Your threats do not intimidate me and I'll stop at nothing."

"The last you have already proved," I replied coldly, and taking the arm of the captain of dragoons, led him out of the room.

"What do you want with me?" asked the captain.

"You are a friend of Grushnitsky's and will probably be his second?"

The captain bowed with much hauteur.

"You've guessed right," he replied. "Moreover, I'm obliged to be his second, for the insult you have offered him concerns me too... I was with him last night," he added, squaring his stooping shoulders.

"Ah, so it was you I hit so clumsily on the head?"

He went yellow, then blue. Suppressed anger showed on his face.

"I will have the honor to send my second to you shortly," I added, bowing very politely and pretending to ignore his fury.

On the steps of the restaurant I met Vera's husband. He had evidently been waiting for me.

He grabbed my hand with something like rapture.

"Noble-minded young man!" he said with tears in his eyes. "I heard everything. What a scoundrel! The ingratitude! Just think of admitting them into a respectable house after this! Thank God I have no daughters! But she for whom you are risking your life will reward you. You may be assured of my discretion for the time being," he continued. "I was young once myself and served in the army; I know one mustn't interfere in affairs like this. Goodbye!"