A Hero of Our Time Read online

  CHAPTER V

  "I CONFESS that, for my part, I had trouble enough over the business.So soon as ever I learned that the Circassian girl was with GrigoriAleksandrovich, I put on my epaulettes and sword and went to see him.

  "He was lying on the bed in the outer room, with one hand under his headand the other holding a pipe which had gone out. The door leading to theinner room was locked, and there was no key in the lock. I observed allthat in a moment... I coughed and rapped my heels against the threshold,but he pretended not to hear.

  "'Ensign!' I said, as sternly as I could. 'Do you not see that I havecome to you?'

  "'Ah, good morning, Maksim Maksimych! Won't you have a pipe?' heanswered, without rising.

  "'Excuse me, I am not Maksim Maksimych. I am the staff-captain.'

  "'It's all the same! Won't you have some tea? If you only knew how I ambeing tortured with anxiety.'

  "'I know all,' I answered, going up to the bed.

  "'So much the better,' he said. 'I am not in a narrative mood.'

  "'Ensign, you have committed an offence for which I may have to answeras well as you.'

  "'Oh, that'll do. What's the harm? You know, we've gone halves ineverything.'

  "'What sort of a joke do you think you are playing? Your sword,please!'...

  "'Mitka, my sword!'

  "'Mitka brought the sword. My duty discharged, I sat down on the bed,facing Pechorin, and said: 'Listen here, Grigori Aleksandrovich, youmust admit that this is a bad business.'

  "'What is?'

  "'Why, that you have carried off Bela... Ah, it is that beast Azamat!...Come, confess!' I said.

  "'But, supposing I am fond of her?'...

  "Well, what could I say to that?... I was nonplussed. After a shortinterval of silence, however, I told him that if Bela's father were toclaim her he would have to give her up.

  "'Not at all!'

  "'But he will get to know that she is here.'

  "'How?'

  "Again I was nonplussed.

  "'Listen, Maksim Maksimych,' said Pechorin, rising to his feet. 'You'rea kind-hearted man, you know; but, if we give that savage back hisdaughter, he will cut her throat or sell her. The deed is done, and theonly thing we can do now is not to go out of our way to spoil matters.Leave Bela with me and keep my sword!'

  "'Show her to me, though,' I said.

  "'She is behind that door. Only I wanted, myself, to see her to-day andwasn't able to. She sits in the corner, muffled in her veil, and neitherspeaks nor looks up--timid as a wild chamois! I have hired the wife ofour dukhan-keeper: she knows the Tartar language, and will look afterBela and accustom her to the idea that she belongs to me--for she shallbelong to no one else!' he added, banging his fist on the table.

  "I assented to that too... What could I do? There are some people withwhom you absolutely have to agree."

  "Well?" I asked Maksim Maksimych. "Did he really succeed in makingher grow accustomed to him, or did she pine away in captivity fromhome-sickness?"

  "Good gracious! how could she pine away from home-sickness? Fromthe fortress she could see the very same hills as she could from thevillage--and these savages require nothing more. Besides, GrigoriAleksandrovich used to give her a present of some kind every day. Atfirst she didn't utter a word, but haughtily thrust away the gifts,which then fell to the lot of the dukhan-keeper's wife and aroused hereloquence. Ah, presents! What won't a woman do for a coloured rag!...But that is by the way... For a long time Grigori Aleksandrovichpersevered with her, and meanwhile he studied the Tartar language andshe began to understand ours. Little by little she grew accustomed tolooking at him, at first furtively, askance; but she still pined andcrooned her songs in an undertone, so that even I would feel heavyat heart when I heard her from the next room. One scene I shall neverforget: I was walking past, and I looked in at the window; Bela wassitting on the stove-couch, her head sunk on her breast, and GrigoriAleksandrovich was standing, facing her.

  "'Listen, my Peri,' he was saying. 'Surely you know that you will haveto be mine sooner or later--why, then, do you but torture me? Is it thatyou are in love with some Chechene? If so, I will let you go home atonce.'

  "She gave a scarcely perceptible start and shook her head.

  "'Or is it,' he continued, 'that I am utterly hateful to you?'

  "She heaved a sigh.

  "'Or that your faith prohibits you from giving me a little of yourlove?'

  "She turned pale and remained silent.

  "'Believe me, Allah is one and the same for all races; and, if hepermits me to love you, why, then, should he prohibit you from requitingme by returning my love?'

  "She gazed fixedly into his face, as though struck by that new idea.Distrust and a desire to be convinced were expressed in her eyes. Whateyes they were! They sparkled just like two glowing coals.

  "'Listen, my dear, good Bela!' continued Pechorin. 'You see how I loveyou. I am ready to give up everything to make you cheerful once more.I want you to be happy, and, if you are going to be sad again, I shalldie. Tell me, you will be more cheerful?'

  "She fell into thought, her black eyes still fixed upon him. Then shesmiled graciously and nodded her head in token of acquiescence.

  "He took her by the hand and tried to induce her to kiss him. Shedefended herself feebly, and only repeated: 'Please! Please! Youmustn't, you mustn't!'

  "He went on to insist; she began to tremble and weep.

  "'I am your captive,' she said, 'your slave; of course, you can compelme.'

  "And then, again--tears.

  "Grigori Aleksandrovich struck his forehead with his fist and spranginto the other room. I went in to see him, and found him walking moodilybackwards and forwards with folded arms.

  "'Well, old man?' I said to him.

  "'She is a devil--not a woman!' he answered. 'But I give you my word ofhonour that she shall be mine!'

  "I shook my head.

  "'Will you bet with me?' he said. 'In a week's time?'

  "'Very well,' I answered.

  "We shook hands on it and separated.

  "The next day he immediately despatched an express messenger to Kizlyarto purchase some things for him. The messenger brought back a quiteinnumerable quantity of various Persian stuffs.

  "'What think you, Maksim Maksimych?' he said to me, showing thepresents. 'Will our Asiatic beauty hold out against such a battery asthis?'

  "'You don't know the Circassian women,' I answered. 'They are not at allthe same as the Georgian or the Transcaucasian Tartar women--not at all!They have their own principles, they are brought up differently.'

  "Grigori Aleksandrovich smiled and began to whistle a march to himself."