Princess Mary summary by numbers. Mikhail LermontovPrincess Mary

Princess Mary is a lover of romantic stories

The characterization of Mary in the novel "A Hero of Our Time" by Lermontov is inseparable from her relationship with the main character of the work - Pechorin. It was he who drew her into a story that, perhaps, would not have happened if Princess Mary had other character traits and outlook on life. Or it would happen (Pechorin always fulfills his plan), but with much less sad consequences for her.
Mary turned out to be a lover of romantic stories. A subtle psychologist, Pechorin immediately noted her interest in Grushnitsky as the owner of a "grey soldier's overcoat." She thought that he had been demoted for the duel - and this aroused romantic feelings in her. He himself, as a person, was indifferent to her. After Mary found out that Grushnitsky was just a cadet, and not a romantic hero at all, she began to avoid him. Exactly on the same soil, her interest in Pechorin arose. This follows from the story of Dr. Werner: “The princess began to talk about your adventures ... My daughter listened with curiosity. In her imagination, you have become the hero of a novel in a new taste ... "

Mary's characteristic

Appearance

Princess Mary, of course, had no reason to doubt her feminine attractiveness. “This Princess Mary is very pretty,” Pechorin noted when he saw her for the first time. “She has such velvet eyes…” But then he also saw the inner emptiness of this secular young lady: “However, it seems that there is only good in her face… Does she have white teeth? It is very important! Too bad she didn't smile... “You talk about a pretty woman like an English horse,” Grushnitsky was indignant. Pechorin, indeed, did not find a soul in her - one outer shell. And beauty alone is not enough to arouse deep feelings for yourself.

Interests

Mary is smart and educated: "she reads Byron in English and knows algebra." Even her own mother has respect for her mind and knowledge. But reading and studying the sciences, obviously, is not her natural need, but a tribute to fashion: “in Moscow, apparently, the young ladies set off into scholarship,” says Dr. Werner.

The princess also plays the piano and sings, like all the girls from high society of that time. “Her voice is not bad, but she sings badly ...” Pechorin writes in his journal. Why try if it's enough for the fans? "The murmur of praise" is already provided to her.

Character traits

Pechorin alone is in no hurry with flattering reviews - and this clearly hurts the pride of the princess. This feature is inherent in the image of Mary in "A Hero of Our Time" to the greatest extent. Having easily identified her weak point, Pechorin hits exactly at this point. He is in no hurry to get acquainted with Mary, when all the other young people hover around her. He lures almost all of her admirers into his company. He scares her with a daring trick on a walk. Examines in lorgnette. And he rejoices that the princess already hates him. Now he should show attention to her - and she will take it as a victory, as a triumph over him. And then - will blame himself for the coldness. Pechorin "knows all this by heart" and subtly plays on the strings of her character.

The sentimentality of the princess, the love of reasoning "about feelings, passions" will also let her down very much. The insidious tempter Pechorin will not fail to take advantage of this, softening her with a story about her difficult fate. “At that moment I met her eyes: tears ran in them; her hand, leaning on mine, trembled; cheeks glowed; she felt sorry for me! Compassion, a feeling that all women submit so easily, let its claws into her inexperienced heart. The goal is almost reached - Mary is already almost in love.

In A Hero of Our Time, Princess Mary is one of the women who fell victim to Pechorin. She is not stupid and vaguely realizes that his intentions are not entirely honest: “Either you despise me, or love me very much! .. Maybe you want to laugh at me, anger my soul and then leave me?” Mary says. But she is still too young and naive to believe that this is possible: “That would be so mean, so low that one suggestion ... oh no! isn’t it… there’s nothing in me that excludes respect?” Princess Pechorin also uses the naivety of Princess Pechorin to subdue her to his will: “But there is an immense pleasure in the possession of a young, barely blossoming soul! She is like a flower whose best fragrance evaporates towards the first ray of the sun; it must be torn off at this moment and, after breathing it to its fullest, throw it on the road: maybe someone will pick it up!

Lesson learned from Pechorin

The heroine of the novel "A Hero of Our Time" Mary finds herself in a very humiliating position. Until recently, she allowed herself to look at other people with contempt, and now she herself has become the object of ridicule. Her lover does not even think of getting married. This is such a painful blow for her that she has a mental breakdown, she becomes seriously ill. What lesson will the princess take from this situation? I would like to think that her heart will not harden, but rather soften and learn to choose those who are truly worthy of love.

Artwork test

We learn about what happened to Pechorin after leaving Taman from the story "Princess Mary" (the second fragment of the "Pechorin Journal"). On a punitive expedition against the Black Sea highlanders, he makes the acquaintance of Junker Grushnitsky, a provincial youth who entered the military service out of romantic motives: he spends the winter in S. (Stavropol), where he briefly meets Dr. Werner, a wise guy and a skeptic. And in May, Pechorin, and Werner, and Grushnitsky, wounded in the leg and awarded - for bravery - the St. George Cross, were already in Pyatigorsk.

Pyatigorsk, like neighboring Kislovodsk, is famous for its healing waters, May is the beginning of the season, and the entire “water community” is assembled. The society is mostly male, officers - after all, and around the war, ladies (and even more so not old and pretty) - without exception. The most interesting of the "resorts", according to the general verdict, is Princess Mary, the only daughter of a wealthy Moscow lady. Princess Ligovskaya is an English speaker, so her Mary knows English and reads Byron in the original.

Despite her scholarship, Mary is direct and democratic in Moscow. Immediately noticing that the wound prevents Grushnitsky from bending over, she picks up the glass of sour - medicinal - water dropped by the cadet. Pechorin catches himself thinking that he is jealous of Grushnitsky. And not because he liked the Moscow young lady so much - although, as a connoisseur, he fully appreciated both her unbanal appearance and her stylish manner of dressing. But because he believes: all the best in this world should belong to him. In short, having nothing to do, he starts a campaign, the purpose of which is to win the heart of Mary and thereby hurt the pride of the arrogant and out of order narcissistic Knight of St. George.

Both are quite successful. The scene at the "sour" source is dated May 11, and eleven days later, in the Kislovodsk "restaurant" at a public ball, he is already dancing with Ligovskaya Jr. the waltz that is coming into vogue. Taking advantage of the freedom of resort customs, the dragoon captain, tipsy and vulgar, tries to invite the princess to a mazurka. Mary is shocked, Pechorin deftly sends off the dork and receives from a grateful mother - still! Saved my daughter from fainting at the ball! - an invitation to visit her house easily.

Meanwhile, the circumstances are getting more complicated. A distant relative of the princess comes to the waters, in whom Pechorin recognizes “his Faith”, a woman whom he once truly loved. Vera still loves her unfaithful lover, but she is married, and her husband, a rich old man, is relentless like a shadow: the princess's living room is the only place where they can see each other without arousing suspicion. In the absence of friends, Mary shares with her cousin (who prudently rented a neighboring house with a common dense garden) heart secrets; Vera gives them to Pechorin - "she is in love with you, poor thing," - he pretends that this does not interest him at all. But female experience tells Vera: a dear friend is not completely indifferent to the charm of a charming Muscovite. Jealous, she takes the word from Grigory Alexandrovich that he will not marry Mary. And as a reward for the sacrifice, he promises a true (night, alone, in his boudoir) date.

Part two

(End of Pechorin's journal)

Princess Mary

Yesterday I arrived in Pyatigorsk, rented an apartment on the edge of the city, on the highest place, at the foot of Mashuk: during a thunderstorm, clouds will descend to my roof. This morning at five o'clock, when I opened the window, my room was filled with the smell of flowers growing in a modest front garden. Branches of blossoming cherries look out my windows, and the wind sometimes strews my desk with their white petals. The view from three sides is wonderful. To the west, the five-headed Beshtu turns blue, like the “last cloud of a scattered storm,” Mashuk rises to the north, like a shaggy Persian hat, and covers this entire part of the sky; it’s more fun to look to the east: down below, a clean, new town is full of colors in front of me, healing springs are rustling, a multilingual crowd is rustling, - and there, further, mountains are piled up like an amphitheater, all bluer and more foggy, and on the edge of the horizon stretches a silver chain of snow peaks, starting with Kazbek and ending two-headed Elborus... It's fun to live in such a land! Some kind of gratifying feeling is poured into all my veins. The air is pure and fresh, like the kiss of a child; the sun is bright, the sky is blue - what would seem more? - why are there passions, desires, regrets? .. However, it's time. I’ll go to the Elizabethan spring: they say that the whole water community gathers there in the morning.

Descending into the middle of the city, I went along the boulevard, where I met several sad groups slowly going up the hill; they were for the most part a family of steppe landowners; this could be immediately guessed from the worn, old-fashioned frock coats of the husbands and from the exquisite outfits of the wives and daughters; Evidently, they had all the youth of the water already on the list, because they looked at me with tender curiosity: the Petersburg cut of the frock coat misled them, but, soon recognizing the army epaulettes, they turned away indignantly.

The wives of the local authorities, mistresses of the waters, so to speak, were more benevolent; they have lorgnettes, they pay less attention to their uniforms, they are accustomed in the Caucasus to meet an ardent heart under a numbered button and an educated mind under a white cap. These ladies are very sweet; and long cute! Every year their admirers are replaced by new ones, and this, perhaps, is the secret of their indefatigable courtesy. Climbing up the narrow path to the Elizabethan spring, I overtook a crowd of men, civilians and military men, who, as I later learned, constitute a special class of people between those who yearn for the movement of water. They drink - but not water, walk a little, drag only in passing; they play and complain of boredom. They are dandies: lowering their braided glass into a well of sour water, they assume academic poses: civilians wear light blue ties, the military let out a ruff from behind the collar. They profess a deep contempt for provincial houses and sigh for the aristocratic living rooms of the capital, where they are not allowed.

Finally, here is the well ... On the site near it, a house was built with a red roof over the bath, and farther away is a gallery where people walk when it rains. Several wounded officers were sitting on a bench, picking up their crutches, pale and sad. Several ladies were walking quickly up and down the platform, waiting for the action of the waters. Between them were two or three pretty faces. Under the vine alleys covering the slope of Mashuk, sometimes the colorful hats of lovers of solitude together flashed by, because I always noticed near such a hat either a military cap or an ugly round hat. On the steep rock where the pavilion called the Aeolian Harp was built, lovers of the views stuck out and pointed their telescope at Elborus; between them were two tutors with their pupils, who had come to be treated for scrofula.

I stopped, out of breath, on the edge of the mountain and, leaning against the corner of the house, began to examine the surroundings, when suddenly I heard a familiar voice behind me:

Pechorin! how long have you been here?

I turn around: Grushnitsky! We hugged. I met him in the active detachment. He was wounded by a bullet in the leg and went to the waters a week before me. Grushnitsky - Junker. He is only a year in the service, wears, in a special kind of foppery, a thick soldier's overcoat. He has a St. George soldier's cross. He is well built, swarthy and black-haired; he looks to be twenty-five years old, although he is hardly twenty-one years old. He throws his head back when he speaks, and continually twists his mustache with his left hand, for with his right he leans on a crutch. He speaks quickly and pretentiously: he is one of those people who have ready-made pompous phrases for all occasions, who are simply not touched by the beautiful and who importantly drape themselves in extraordinary feelings, sublime passions and exceptional suffering. To produce an effect is their delight; romantic provincial women like them to the point of madness. In old age, they become either peaceful landowners or drunkards - sometimes both. In their souls there are often many good qualities, but not a penny worth of poetry. Grushnitsky's passion was to recite: he bombarded you with words, as soon as the conversation left the circle of ordinary concepts; I could never argue with him. He does not answer your objections, he does not listen to you. As soon as you stop, he starts a long tirade, apparently having some connection with what you said, but which is really only a continuation of his own speech.

He is rather sharp: his epigrams are often funny, but there are never marks and evil: he will not kill anyone with one word; he does not know people and their weak strings, because he has been occupied with himself all his life. His goal is to become the hero of the novel. He tried so often to assure others that he was a creature not created for the world, doomed to some secret suffering, that he almost convinced himself of this. That is why he wears his thick soldier's overcoat so proudly. I understood him, and for this he does not love me, although we outwardly are on the most friendly terms. Grushnitsky is reputed to be an excellent brave man; I saw him in action; he waves his sword, shouts and rushes forward, closing his eyes. This is something not Russian courage! ..

I don't like him either: I feel that someday we will collide with him on a narrow road, and one of us will be unhappy.

His arrival in the Caucasus is also a consequence of his romantic fanaticism: I am sure that on the eve of his departure from his father's village, he spoke with a gloomy look to some pretty neighbor that he was not going just to serve, but that he was looking for death, because .. here, he probably covered his eyes with his hand and continued like this: "No, you (or you) must not know this! Your pure soul will shudder! And why? What am I to you! Will you understand me?" - and so on.

He himself told me that the reason that prompted him to join the K. regiment would remain an eternal secret between him and heaven.

However, in those moments when he throws off his tragic mantle, Grushnitsky is rather nice and funny. I am curious to see him with women: here he is, I think, trying!

We met old friends. I began to question him about the way of life on the waters and about remarkable persons.

We lead a rather prosaic life,” he said with a sigh, “those who drink water in the morning are lethargic, like all the sick, and those who drink wine in the evening are unbearable, like all healthy people. There are sororities; only a little consolation from them: they play whist, dress badly and speak terrible French. This year there is only Princess Ligovskaya from Moscow with her daughter; but I am not familiar with them. My soldier's overcoat is like a seal of rejection. The participation she excites is heavy as almsgiving.

At that moment, two ladies walked past us to the well: one is elderly, the other is young and slender. I could not see their faces behind their hats, but they were dressed according to the strict rules of the best taste: nothing superfluous! The second was a closed dress gris de perles 1, a light silk scarf curled around her supple neck. Boots couleur puce 2 pulled her lean leg at the ankle so sweetly that even those not initiated into the mysteries of beauty would certainly gasp, although in surprise. Her light, but noble gait had something virginal in it, eluding definition, but understandable to the eye. When she walked past us, she wafted that inexplicable aroma that sometimes breathes a note from a nice woman.

Here is Princess Ligovskaya,” said Grushnitsky, “and with her is her daughter Mary, as she calls her in the English manner. They've only been here for three days.

However, do you already know her name?

Yes, I happened to hear, - he answered, blushing, - I confess, I do not want to meet them. This proud nobility is looking at us, the army, as wild. And what do they care if there is a mind under a numbered cap and a heart under a thick overcoat?

Poor overcoat! - I said, smiling, - and who is this gentleman who comes up to them and so obligingly gives them a glass?

ABOUT! - this is a Moscow dandy Raevich! He is a gambler: this can be seen immediately from the huge golden chain that winds around his blue waistcoat. And what a thick cane - like Robinson Crusoe! Yes, and a beard, by the way, and a hairstyle a la moujik 3 .

You are embittered against the whole human race.

And there is a reason...

ABOUT! right?

At this time, the ladies moved away from the well and caught up with us. Grushnitsky managed to take a dramatic pose with the help of a crutch and loudly answered me in French:

Mon cher, je hais les hommes pour ne pas les mepriser car autrement la vie serait une farce trop degoutante 4 .

The pretty princess turned around and gave the orator a long, curious look. The expression of this look was very vague, but not mocking, for which I inwardly congratulated him from the bottom of my heart.

This Princess Mary is very pretty, I told him. - She has such velvet eyes - exactly velvet: I advise you to appropriate this expression, speaking of her eyes; the lower and upper eyelashes are so long that the rays of the sun are not reflected in her pupils. I love those eyes without glitter: they are so soft, they seem to be stroking you... However, it seems that there is only good in her face... Does she have white teeth? It is very important! it's a pity she didn't smile at your pompous phrase.

You talk about a pretty woman like an English horse,” said Grushnitsky indignantly.

Mon cher, I answered him, trying to imitate his tone, je meprise les femmes pour ne pas les aimer car autrement la vie serait un melodrame trop ridicule.

I turned and walked away from him. For half an hour I walked along the vineyard avenues, over limestone rocks and bushes hanging between them. It was getting hot and I hurried home. Passing by a sulphurous source, I stopped at a covered gallery to breathe under its shade, which gave me the opportunity to be a witness to a rather curious scene. The actors were in this position. The princess was sitting with the Moscow dandy on a bench in the covered gallery, and both seemed to be engaged in a serious conversation. The princess, probably having finished her last glass, was walking thoughtfully by the well. Grushnitsky was standing at the very well; there was no one else on the site.

I moved closer and hid around the corner of the gallery. At that moment Grushnitsky dropped his glass on the sand and tried to bend down to pick it up: his bad leg was in the way. Bezhnyazhka! how he contrived, leaning on a crutch, and all in vain. His expressive face really depicted suffering.

Princess Mary saw all this better than me.

Lighter than a bird, she jumped up to him, bent down, picked up a glass and handed it to him with a gesture full of inexpressible charm; then she blushed terribly, looked round at the gallery, and, making sure that her mother had not seen anything, seemed to immediately calm down. When Grushnitsky opened his mouth to thank her, she was already far away. A minute later, she left the gallery with her mother and the dandy, but, passing by Grushnitsky, she took on such a decorous and important look - she didn’t even turn around, didn’t even notice his passionate look, with which he saw her off for a long time, until, going down the mountain, she disappeared behind the lime trees of the boulevard... But then her hat flashed across the street; she ran into the gates of one of the best houses in Pyatigorsk, the princess followed her and bowed to Raevich at the gates.

Only then did the poor junker notice my presence.

You've seen? - he said, firmly shaking my hand, - it's just an angel!

From what? I asked with an air of pure innocence.

Didn't you see?

No, I saw her raise your glass. If there had been a watchman here, he would have done the same, and even more hastily, hoping to get some vodka. However, it is very understandable that she felt sorry for you: you made such a terrible grimace when you stepped on your shot leg ...

And you were not in the least touched, looking at her at that moment, when her soul shone on her face? ..

I lied; but I wanted to annoy him. I have an innate passion to contradict; my whole life has been nothing but a chain of sad and unfortunate contradictions of heart or mind. The presence of an enthusiast gives me the coldness of Epiphany, and I think frequent intercourse with a listless phlegmatic would make me a passionate dreamer. I confess also that an unpleasant, but familiar feeling ran lightly at that moment through my heart; this feeling was envy; I boldly say "envy" because I'm used to admitting everything to myself; and it is unlikely that there will be a young man who, having met a pretty woman who riveted his idle attention and suddenly clearly distinguished another in his presence, who is equally unfamiliar to her, it is unlikely, I say, that there will be such a young man (of course, who lived in high society and was accustomed to ), who would not be unpleasantly struck by this.

In silence, Grushnitsky and I descended the mountain and walked along the boulevard, past the windows of the house where our beauty had hidden. She was sitting by the window. Grushnitsky, tugging at my hand, threw her one of those vaguely tender looks that have so little effect on women. I pointed a lorgnette at her and noticed that she smiled at his glance, and that my insolent lorgnette annoyed her in earnest. And how, in fact, does a Caucasian army soldier dare to point a glass at a Moscow princess? ..

This morning the doctor came to see me; his name is Werner, but he is Russian. What's so amazing? I knew one Ivanov, who was a German.

Werner is a wonderful person for many reasons. He is a skeptic and a materialist, like almost all doctors, and at the same time a poet, and in earnest - a poet in deed, always and often in words, although he did not write two poems in his life. He studied all the living strings of the human heart, as one studies the veins of a corpse, but he never knew how to use his knowledge; so sometimes an excellent anatomist cannot cure a fever! Usually Werner surreptitiously mocked his patients; but I once saw how he wept over a dying soldier... He was poor, dreamed of millions, and for money he would not take an extra step: he once told me that he would rather do a favor to an enemy than to a friend, because that would mean sell his charity, while hatred will only increase in proportion to the generosity of the enemy. He had an evil tongue: under the sign of his epigram, more than one good-natured man passed for a vulgar fool; his rivals, envious water doctors, spread a rumor that he was drawing caricatures of his patients - the patients became furious, almost everyone refused him. His friends, that is, all truly decent people who served in the Caucasus, tried in vain to restore his fallen credit.

His appearance was one of those that strike unpleasantly at first sight, but which one likes later, when the eye learns to read in irregular features the imprint of a tried and lofty soul. There were examples that women fell in love with such people to the point of madness and would not exchange their ugliness for the beauty of the freshest and pinkest endymons; it is necessary to do justice to women: they have an instinct for the beauty of their souls: that is why, perhaps, people like Werner love women so passionately.

Werner was short and thin and weak as a child; one leg was shorter than the other, like Byron's; in comparison with his body, his head seemed huge: he cut his hair with a comb, and the irregularities of his skull, thus revealed, would have struck a phrenologist with a strange intertwining of opposite inclinations. His small black eyes, always restless, tried to penetrate your thoughts. Taste and neatness were noticeable in his clothes; his lean, sinewy, and small hands showed off in pale yellow gloves. His coat, tie and waistcoat were always black. The youth nicknamed him Mephistopheles; he showed that he was angry at this nickname, but in fact it flattered his vanity. We soon understood each other and became friends, because I am incapable of friendship: of two friends, one is always the slave of the other, although often neither of them admits this to himself; I cannot be a slave, and in this case commanding is tedious work, because at the same time it is necessary to deceive; and besides, I have lackeys and money! This is how we became friends: I met Werner in S ... among a large and noisy circle of young people; the conversation took a philosophical and metaphysical direction towards the end of the evening; talked about beliefs: each was convinced of different differences.

As for me, I am convinced of only one thing ... - said the doctor.

What is it? I asked, wanting to know the opinion of the man who had so far been silent.

In that, - he answered, - that sooner or later one fine morning I will die.

I am richer than you, I said, - besides this, I have another conviction - namely, that I had the misfortune to be born one ugly evening.

Everyone found that we were talking nonsense, and, really, none of them said anything smarter than that. From that moment on, we distinguished each other in the crowd. We often got together and talked together about abstract subjects very seriously, until both of us noticed that we were mutually fooling each other. Then, looking significantly into each other's eyes, as the Roman augurs did, according to Cicero, we began to laugh and, having laughed, dispersed satisfied with our evening.

I was lying on the sofa with my eyes fixed on the ceiling and my hands behind the back of my head when Werner entered my room. He sat down in an armchair, put his cane in a corner, yawned, and announced that it was getting hot outside. I replied that the flies bothered me, and we both fell silent.

Please note, my dear doctor," I said, "that without fools the world would be very boring!... Look, here we are, two smart people; we know in advance that everything can be argued to infinity, and therefore we do not argue; we know almost all the secret thoughts of each other; one word is a whole story for us; we see the grain of each of our feelings through the triple shell. The sad is funny to us, the funny is sad, but in general, in truth, we are rather indifferent to everything, except ourselves. So, there can be no exchange of feelings and thoughts between us: we know everything about each other that we want to know, and we don’t want to know anymore. There is only one remedy: to tell the news. Tell me some news.

Tired of the long speech, I closed my eyes and yawned...

He answered thoughtfully:

There is an idea in your nonsense, however.

Two! I answered.

Tell me one, I'll tell you another.

Okay, get started! - I said, continuing to look at the ceiling and smiling inwardly.

You want to know some details about someone who came to the waters, and I can already guess who you care about, because they already asked about you there.

Doctor! we must definitely not talk: we read in each other's souls.

Now another...

Another idea is this: I wanted to make you tell something; first, because smart people like you love listeners better than tellers. Now to the point: what did Princess Ligovskaya tell you about me?

Are you very sure that this is a princess ... and not a princess? ..

Absolutely convinced.

Because the princess asked about Grushnitsky.

You have a great gift of thought. The princess said that she was sure that this young man in a soldier's overcoat had been demoted to the soldiers for a duel ..

I hope you left her in this pleasant delusion ...

Of course.

There is a link! - I shouted in admiration, - we will work on the denouement of this comedy. Clearly fate takes care that I was not bored.

I have a presentiment,” said the doctor, “that poor Grushnitsky will be your victim...

The princess said that your face is familiar to her. I remarked to her that she must have met you in Petersburg, somewhere in the world... I said your name... She knew it. It seems that your story made a lot of noise there ... The princess began to talk about your adventures, probably adding her remarks to secular gossip ... The daughter listened with curiosity. In her imagination you became the hero of a novel in a new style... I did not contradict the princess, although I knew that she was talking nonsense.

Worthy friend! I said holding out my hand to him. The doctor shook it with feeling and continued:

If you want, I'll introduce you...

Have mercy! - I said, clasping my hands, - do they represent heroes? They do not get to know each other except by saving their beloved from certain death ...

And do you really want to drag the princess? ..

On the contrary, quite the opposite!.. Doctor, at last I triumph: you don’t understand me!.. This, however, upsets me, doctor, - I continued after a moment of silence, - I never reveal my secrets myself, but I love terribly that they were guessed, because in this way I can always, on occasion, unlock them. However, you must describe mother and daughter to me. What kind of people are they?

Firstly, the princess is a woman of forty-five years old, - Werner answered, - she has a fine stomach, but her blood is spoiled; red spots on cheeks. She spent the last half of her life in Moscow, and here she grew fat in retirement. She loves seductive anecdotes and sometimes says obscene things herself when her daughter is not in the room. She told me that her daughter was as innocent as a dove. What do I care? .. I wanted to answer her, so that she was calm, that I would not tell anyone this! The princess is being treated for rheumatism, and the daughter, God knows what; I told them both to drink two glasses a day of sour water and to bathe twice a week in a adjustable bath. The princess, it seems, is not used to giving orders; she has respect for the mind and knowledge of her daughter, who read Byron in English and knows algebra: in Moscow, apparently, young ladies have embarked on learning, and they are doing well, right! Our men are so unaccommodating in general that flirting with them must be unbearable for an intelligent woman. The princess is very fond of young people: the princess looks at them with some contempt: a Moscow habit! In Moscow they eat nothing but forty-year-old wits.

Have you been to Moscow, doctor?

Yes, I had some practice there.

Go on.

Yes, I think I said everything... Yes! Here's another thing: the princess, it seems, loves to talk about feelings, passions, and so on ... she was one winter in Petersburg, and she didn’t like it, especially society: she was certainly coldly received.

Did you see any of them today?

Against; there was one adjutant, one strained guardsman, and some lady from the newcomers, a relative of the princess by husband, very pretty, but it seems very sick ... Didn't you meet her at the well? - she is of medium height, blonde, with regular features, consumptive complexion, and a black mole on her right cheek; her face struck me with its expressiveness.

Mole! I muttered through my teeth. - Really?

The doctor looked at me and said solemnly, placing his hand on my heart:

She is familiar to you!.. - My heart was definitely beating faster than usual.

Now it's your turn to celebrate! - I said, - only I hope for you: you will not change me. I haven’t seen her yet, but I’m sure I recognize in your portrait one woman whom I loved in the old days ... Don’t say a word to her about me; if she asks, be mean to me.

Perhaps! Werner said with a shrug.

When he left, a terrible sadness cramped my heart. Did fate bring us together again in the Caucasus, or did she come here on purpose, knowing that she would meet me? .. and how we would meet? .. and then, is it her? .. My premonitions never deceived me. There is no person in the world over whom the past would acquire such power as over me: every reminder of past sadness or joy painfully strikes my soul and extracts all the same sounds from it ... I am stupidly created: I do not forget anything, - nothing !

After dinner at six o'clock I went to the boulevard: there was a crowd; the princess and princess were sitting on a bench, surrounded by young people who were amiable to each other. I placed myself at some distance on another bench, stopped two officers I knew, and began to tell them something; apparently it was funny, because they started laughing like crazy. Curiosity attracted some of those around the princess to me; little by little, everyone left her and joined my circle. I did not stop: my anecdotes were smart to the point of stupidity, my mockery of the originals passing by was angry to the point of fury ... I continued to amuse the audience until the sun went down. Several times the princess, arm in arm with her mother, passed me, accompanied by some kind of lame old man; several times her gaze, falling on me, expressed annoyance, trying to express indifference ...

What did he tell you? - she asked one of the young people who returned to her out of politeness, - right, a very entertaining story - her exploits in battles? .. - She said this rather loudly and, probably, with the intention of stabbing me. "Aha! - I thought, - you are seriously angry, dear princess; wait, there will be more!"

Grushnitsky watched her like a beast of prey, and did not let her out of his eyes: I bet that tomorrow he will ask someone to introduce him to the princess. She will be very happy because she is bored.

In the course of two days my affairs advanced terribly. The princess absolutely hates me; I have already been told two or three epigrams to my account, rather caustic, but together very flattering. It is terribly strange to her that I, who am accustomed to good company, which is so short with her Petersburg cousins ​​and aunts, do not try to get to know her. We meet every day at the well, on the boulevard; I use all my strength to distract her admirers, brilliant adjutants, pale Muscovites and others - and I almost always succeed. I have always hated guests at my place: now my house is full every day, they dine, dine, play - and, alas, my champagne triumphs over the power of her magnetic eyes!

Yesterday I met her in Chelakhov's shop; she was selling a wonderful Persian carpet. The princess begged her mother not to be stingy: this carpet would decorate her study so much! .. I gave forty extra rubles and bought it; for this I was rewarded with a glance in which the most delightful fury shone. About dinner I ordered my Circassian horse, covered with this carpet, to be purposely led past her windows. Werner was with them at the time and told me that the effect of this scene was the most dramatic. The princess wants to preach the militia against me; I even noticed that two adjutants in front of her bowed to me very dryly, but every day they dined with me.

Grushnitsky took on a mysterious air: he walks with his hands thrown behind his back, and does not recognize anyone; his leg suddenly recovered: he barely limps. He found an opportunity to enter into a conversation with the princess and said some kind of compliment to the princess: she, apparently, is not very picky, for since then she has answered his bow with the sweetest smile.

You definitely don't want to meet the Ligovskys? he told me yesterday.

Decisively.

Have mercy! the most pleasant house on the waters! All the best society here...

My friend, I am terribly tired of the unearthly. Do you visit them?

Not yet; I spoke with the princess a couple of times, and more, but you know, somehow it’s embarrassing to ask for a house, although this is what happens here ... It would be another matter if I wore epaulettes ...

Have mercy! yes commercials you are much more interesting! You simply do not know how to use your advantageous position ... but a soldier's overcoat in the eyes of a sensitive young lady makes you a hero and a sufferer.

Grushnitsky smiled smugly.

What nonsense! - he said.

I am sure, - I continued, - that the princess is already in love with you!

He blushed up to his ears and pouted.

O selfishness! you are the lever with which Archimedes wanted to raise the globe! ..

You have all the jokes! - he said, showing that he was angry, - in the first place, she still knows me so little ...

Women love only those they don't know.

Yes, I have no pretense at all that she likes me: I just want to get acquainted with a pleasant house, and it would be very funny if I had any hopes ... Here you are, for example, another matter! - you are the winners of St. Petersburg: just look, women are melting like that ... Do you know, Pechorin, what the princess said about you?

How? did she tell you about me?

Don't rejoice, though. I somehow entered into a conversation with her at the well, by chance; her third word was: "Who is this gentleman who has such an unpleasant heavy look? he was with you then..." She blushed and did not want to name the day, remembering her sweet trick. "You don't need to tell the day," I answered her, "he will forever be remembered by me..." My friend, Pechorin! I do not congratulate you; she has you on a bad note ... Oh, really, it's a pity! because Mary is very cute!..

It should be noted that Grushnitsky is one of those people who, speaking of a woman with whom they barely know, call her my Mary, my Sophie, if she had the good fortune to please them.

I took on a serious face and answered him:

Yes, she's not bad... just beware, Grushnitsky! Russian young ladies for the most part feed only on platonic love, without mixing with it the thought of marriage; and platonic love is the most restless. The princess seems to be one of those women who want to be amused; if for two minutes in a row she is bored around you, you are irretrievably lost: your silence should arouse her curiosity, your conversation should never fully satisfy it; you must disturb her every minute; she will publicly disregard your opinion ten times and call it a victim, and in order to reward herself for this, she will begin torturing you - and then she will simply say that she cannot stand you. If you do not gain power over her, then even her first kiss will not give you the right to a second; she flirts with you to her heart’s content, and in two years she will marry a freak, out of obedience to her mother, and will begin to assure herself that she is unhappy, that she loved only one person, that is, you, but that heaven did not want to unite her with him , because he was wearing a soldier's overcoat, although under this thick gray overcoat a passionate and noble heart was beating ...

Grushnitsky struck the table with his fist and began to pace up and down the room.

I laughed inwardly and even smiled twice, but fortunately he did not notice it. It is obvious that he is in love, because he has become even more trusting than before; he even got a silver ring with niello, local work: it seemed suspicious to me ... I began to examine it, and what? famous glass. I concealed my discovery; I don't want to force him to confess, I want him to choose me as his attorney, and then I'll enjoy ...

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Today I got up late; I come to the well - there is no one else. It was getting hot; white shaggy clouds quickly fled from the snowy mountains, promising a thunderstorm; Mashuk's head was smoking like an extinguished torch; all around him, gray wisps of clouds coiled and crawled like snakes, held back in their striving and seemed to be clinging to its thorny bush. The air was filled with electricity. I went deeper into the avenue of grapes leading to the grotto; I was sad. I was thinking about that young woman with the mole on her cheek that the doctor told me about... Why is she here? And is she? And why do I think it's her? And why am I even so sure of it? Are there many women with moles on their cheeks? Thinking in this way, I approached the grotto itself. I look: in the cool shade of its vault, a woman is sitting on a stone bench, in a straw hat, wrapped in a black shawl, her head on her chest; the hat covered her face. I already wanted to return, so as not to disturb her dreams, when she looked at me.

Faith! I cried out involuntarily.

She shuddered and turned pale.

I knew you were here, she said. I sat down next to her and took her hand. A long-forgotten thrill ran through my veins at the sound of that sweet voice; she looked into my eyes with her deep and calm eyes; they expressed incredulity and something like a reproach.

We haven’t seen each other for a long time,” I said.

A long time ago, and both have changed in many ways!

So you don't love me?

I'm married! - she said.

Again? However, a few years ago, this reason also existed, but in the meantime ... She pulled her hand out of mine, and her cheeks burned.

Maybe you love your second husband? .. She did not answer and turned away.

Or is he very jealous?

Silence.

Well? He is young, good-looking, especially, it is true, rich, and you are afraid ... - I looked at her and was frightened; her face expressed deep despair, tears sparkled in her eyes.

Tell me, she whispered at last, do you have a lot of fun in torturing me? I should hate you. Since we've known each other, you've given me nothing but suffering... - Her voice trembled, she leaned towards me and lowered her head on my chest.

"Perhaps," I thought, "that's why you loved me: joys are forgotten, but sorrows never..."

I hugged her tightly, and so we stayed for a long time. At last our lips drew closer and merged into a hot, intoxicating kiss; her hands were cold as ice, her head was on fire. Here we began one of those conversations that make no sense on paper, which cannot be repeated and cannot even be remembered: the meaning of sounds replaces and complements the meaning of words, as in Italian opera.

She resolutely does not want me to meet her husband - that lame old man whom I saw briefly on the boulevard: she married him for her son. He is rich and suffers from rheumatism. I did not allow myself a single mockery of him: she respects him like a father, and will deceive him like a husband ... A strange thing is a human heart in general, and a woman's heart in particular!

Vera's husband, Semyon Vasilyevich G...v, a distant relative of Princess Ligovskaya. He lives next to her; Vera often visits the princess; I gave her my word to get acquainted with the Ligovskys and to follow the princess in order to divert attention from her. Thus, my plans are not in the least frustrated, and I will have fun ...

Fun!.. Yes, I have already passed that period of my spiritual life when they are only looking for happiness, when the heart feels the need to love someone strongly and passionately - now I only want to be loved, and then by very few; even it seems to me that one constant affection would be enough for me: a miserable habit of the heart! ..

However, it has always been strange to me: I have never become a slave to the woman I love; on the contrary, I have always acquired an invincible power over their will and heart, without even trying to do so. Why is this? - Is it because I never really value anything and that they were constantly afraid to let me out of their hands? or is it the magnetic influence of a strong organism? Or did I just not manage to meet a woman with a stubborn character?

I must admit that I definitely do not like women with character: is it their business! ..

True, now I remember: once, only once, I loved a woman with a strong will, whom I could never defeat ... We parted as enemies - and then, maybe, if I had met her five years later, we would have parted differently ...

Vera is sick, very sick, although she doesn’t admit it, I’m afraid that she doesn’t have consumption or that disease that is called fievre lente - the disease is not Russian at all, and there is no name for it in our language.

The storm caught us in the grotto and kept us for an extra half an hour. She did not force me to swear allegiance, did not ask if I loved others since we parted ... She entrusted herself to me again with the same carelessness - I will not deceive her; she is the only woman in the world whom I would not be able to deceive. I know that we will soon part again, and perhaps forever: we will both go our separate ways to the grave; but the memory of her will remain inviolable in my soul; I always repeated this to her and she believes me, although she says the opposite.

At last we parted; I followed her with my eyes for a long time, until her hat disappeared behind the bushes and rocks. My heart sank painfully, as after the first parting. Oh, how I rejoiced at this feeling! Is it not youth, with its beneficial storms, that wants to return to me again, or is it just its farewell glance, the last gift - as a keepsake?.. And it’s ridiculous to think that I still look like a boy: my face, although pale, is still fresh; members are flexible and slender; thick curls curl, eyes burn, blood boils ...

Returning home, I mounted and galloped into the steppe; I love to ride a hot horse through tall grass against the desert wind; I greedily swallow the fragrant air and direct my gaze into the blue distance, trying to catch the vague outlines of objects that are becoming clearer and clearer every minute. Whatever grief may lie on the heart, whatever anxiety may torment the thought, everything will dissipate in a minute; the soul will become light, the fatigue of the body will overcome the anxiety of the mind. There is no woman's gaze that I would not forget at the sight of curly mountains illuminated by the southern sun, at the sight of a blue sky, or listening to the noise of a stream falling from cliff to cliff.

I think the Cossacks, yawning on their towers, seeing me galloping without need or purpose, were tormented by this riddle for a long time, because, surely, by the clothes they took me for a Circassian. In fact, they told me that in a Circassian costume on horseback I look more like a Kabardian than many Kabardians. And for sure, as far as this noble combat clothing is concerned, I am a perfect dandy: not a single extra galloon; a weapon of value in a simple finish, the fur on the hat is not too long, not too short; leggings and slippers fitted with all possible precision; beshmet white, Circassian dark brown. I have long studied mountain landing: nothing can flatter my vanity so much as recognizing my skill in riding in a Caucasian way. I keep four horses: one for myself, three for friends, so that it would not be boring to drag myself through the fields alone; they take my horses with pleasure and never ride with me. It was already six o'clock in the afternoon when I remembered that it was time for dinner; my horse was exhausted; I drove onto the road leading from Pyatigorsk to the German colony, where the water society often travels en piquenique 6. The road winds through the bushes, descending into small ravines where noisy streams flow under the shade of tall grasses; around the amphitheater rise the blue masses of Beshtu, Serpent, Iron and Bald Mountains. Descending into one of these ravines, called beams in the local dialect, I stopped to water the horse; at that moment, a noisy and brilliant cavalcade appeared on the road: ladies in black and blue amazons, gentlemen in costumes that were a mixture of Circassian and Nizhny Novgorod; Grushnitsky rode ahead with Princess Mary.

Ladies on the waters still believe the attacks of the Circassians in broad daylight; this is probably why Grushnitsky hung a saber and a pair of pistols over his soldier's overcoat: he was rather ridiculous in this heroic vestment. A tall bush shielded me from them, but through its leaves I could see everything and guess from the expressions on their faces that the conversation was sentimental. At last they approached the descent; Grushnitsky took the princess's horse by the bridle, and then I heard the end of their conversation:

And you want to stay in the Caucasus all your life? - said the princess.

What is Russia for me! - answered her gentleman, - a country where thousands of people, because they are richer than me, will look at me with contempt, while here - here this thick overcoat did not prevent my acquaintance with you ...

On the contrary ... - said the princess, blushing.

Grushnitsky's face showed pleasure. He continued:

Here my life will pass noisily, imperceptibly and quickly, under the bullets of savages, and if God would send me one bright female look every year, one like that ...

At this time they caught up with me; I hit the horse with a whip and rode out from behind a bush...

Mon Dieu, un Circassien! 7 - cried the princess in horror. To completely dissuade her, I answered in French, leaning slightly:

Ne craignez rien, madame, - je ne suis pas plus dangereux que votre cavalier 8 .

She was embarrassed, but why? from her own mistake, or from the fact that my answer seemed impudent to her? I would like my last assumption to be correct. Grushnitsky cast a displeased glance at me.

Late in the evening, that is, at eleven o'clock, I went for a walk along the linden alley of the boulevard. The city was sleeping, only lights flickered in some windows. On three sides blackened the crests of cliffs, branches of Mashuk, on top of which lay an ominous cloud; the moon rose in the east; in the distance the snow-capped mountains glittered like a silver fringe. The calls of sentries were interspersed with the noise of hot springs lowered for the night. Sometimes the sonorous stomp of a horse was heard along the street, accompanied by the creak of a Nagai cart and a mournful Tatar refrain. I sat down on the bench and thought... I felt the need to pour out my thoughts in friendly conversation... but with whom? "What is Vera doing now?" I thought... I would give dearly to shake her hand at that moment.

Suddenly I hear fast and uneven footsteps... That's right, Grushnitsky... That's right!

From Princess Ligovskaya,” he said very importantly. - How Mary sings! ..

Do you know what? - I said to him, - I bet that she does not know that you are a Junker; she thinks you're degraded...

May be! What do I care! .. - he said absently.

No, that's just what I'm saying...

Do you know that you made her terribly angry today? She found it to be an unheard-of impertinence; I could hardly convince her that you were so well brought up and know the world so well that I could not have the intention of offending her; she says that you have an impudent look, that you must have the highest opinion of yourself.

She is not mistaken... Don't you want to intercede for her?

I'm sorry I don't have that right yet...

Wow! - I thought, - he, apparently, already has hopes ... "

However, it’s worse for you,” continued Grushnitsky, “now it’s hard for you to get to know them—what a pity! it is one of the nicest houses I know of. . .

I smiled inwardly.

The most pleasant home for me is now mine,” I said, yawning, and got up to go.

But admit it, are you sorry? . .

What nonsense! if I want, then tomorrow evening I will be with the princess ...

Let's see.. .

Even in order to please you, I will drag myself behind the princess ...

Yes, if she wants to talk to you...

I'll only wait for the moment when your conversation will bore her... Farewell!...

And I'm going to stagger - I won't fall asleep for anything now ... Listen, let's go to a restaurant, there's a game ... I need strong sensations now ...

I want you to lose...

I am going home.

Almost a week has passed, and I have not yet met the Ligovskys. I'm waiting for an opportunity. Grushnitsky, like a shadow, follows the princess everywhere; their conversations are endless: when will he get bored with her? .. Mother does not pay attention to this, because he is not a groom. Here is the logic of mothers! I noticed two, three tender glances - we must put an end to this.

Yesterday Vera appeared at the well for the first time... She hasn't left the house since we met in the grotto. We lowered our glasses at the same time, and, bending down, she said to me in a whisper:

Don't you want to meet the Ligovskys?.. We can only see each other there...

Reproach! boring! But I deserve it...

By the way: tomorrow there is a subscription ball in the restaurant hall, and I will dance a mazurka with the princess.

The hall of the restaurant turned into the hall of the Noble Assembly. At nine o'clock they all arrived. The princess and her daughter were among the last; many ladies looked at her with envy and ill will, because Princess Mary dresses with taste. Those who consider themselves the local aristocrats, hiding envy, joined her. How to be? Where there is a society of women, there will now appear a higher and a lower circle. Under the window, in the crowd of people, stood Grushnitsky, pressing his face to the glass and not taking his eyes off his goddess; she, passing by, barely perceptibly nodded her head at him. He shone like the sun... The dancing began in Polish; then they played a waltz. The spurs jingled, the tails lifted and swirled.

I was standing behind a fat lady, overshadowed by pink feathers; the splendor of her dress was reminiscent of the time of fizma, and the variegation of her uneven skin - the happy era of black taffeta flies. The largest wart on her neck was covered by a clasp. She said to her cavalier, the captain of the dragoons:

This Princess Ligovskaya is an obnoxious girl! Imagine, she pushed me and did not apologize, and even turned around and looked at me through her lorgnette... C`est impayable!.. 9 And what is she proud of? She needs to be taught...

This will not be the case! - the obliging captain answered and went to another room.

I immediately approached the princess, inviting her to waltz, taking advantage of the freedom of the local customs, which allow dancing with unfamiliar ladies.

She could hardly force herself not to smile and hide her triumph; she succeeded, however, in pretty soon assuming a completely indifferent and even stern air: she laid her hand carelessly on my shoulder, tilted her head slightly to one side, and we set off. I don't know a waist more voluptuous and flexible! Her fresh breath touched my face; sometimes a curl, separated from its comrades in a whirlwind of a waltz, slid along my burning cheek ... I did three rounds. (She waltzes surprisingly well.) She was out of breath, her eyes dimmed, half-open lips could hardly whisper the necessary: ​​"Merci, monsieur" 10 .

After several minutes of silence, I said to her, assuming the most submissive look:

I heard, princess, that, being a total stranger to you, I already had the misfortune to deserve your disfavor ... that you found me impudent ... is that really true?

And would you like to confirm me in this opinion now? - she answered with an ironic grimace, which, however, is very suitable for her mobile physiognomy.

If I had the audacity to offend you in any way, then allow me to have even greater audacity to ask your forgiveness ... And, really, I would very much like to prove to you that you were mistaken about me ...

It will be difficult for you...

From what?

Because you don't visit us, and these balls probably won't be repeated often.

"That means," I thought, "that their doors are forever closed to me."

You know, princess, - I said with some annoyance, - you should never reject a penitent criminal: out of desperation, he can become even twice as criminal ... and then ...

Laughter and whispering around us made me turn around and interrupt my sentence. A few steps away from me stood a group of men, including a captain of dragoons, who expressed hostile intentions against the dear princess; he was particularly pleased with something, rubbing his hands, laughing and winking at his comrades. Suddenly, a gentleman in a tailcoat with a long mustache and a red mug separated from among them and directed his unsteady steps straight towards the princess: he was drunk. Stopping in front of the embarrassed princess and clasping his hands behind his back, he fixed his dull gray eyes on her and said in a hoarse dashkant:

Permet... 11 Well, what's the matter!.. I'm just engaging you in a mazurka...

What do you want? she said in a trembling voice, casting an imploring glance around. Alas! her mother was far away, and none of the gentlemen she knew were near; one adjutant, it seems, saw all this, but hid behind the crowd so as not to be mixed up in history.

What? - said the drunken gentleman, winking at the dragoon captain, who encouraged him with signs, - don't you like it? .. I still have the honor to engage you pour mazure ... 12 Do you think I'm drunk? It's nothing!.. Much freer, I can assure you...

I saw that she was ready to faint from fear and indignation.

I went up to the drunken gentleman, took him quite firmly by the hand, and, looking intently into his eyes, asked him to leave—because, I added, the princess had long promised to dance the mazurka with me.

Well, there is nothing to do! .. another time! he said, laughing, and withdrew to his ashamed comrades, who immediately took him into another room.

I was rewarded with a deep, wonderful look.

The princess went up to her mother and told her everything, she found me in the crowd and thanked me. She announced to me that she knew my mother and was friends with half a dozen of my aunts.

I don’t know how it happened that we still don’t know you,” she added, “but admit that you alone are to blame for this: you are shy of everyone in such a way that it doesn’t look like anything. I hope the air in my living room will disperse your spleen... don't you?

I said to her one of those phrases that everyone should have prepared for such an event.

The quadrilles dragged on for an awfully long time.

Finally, a mazurka thundered from the chorus; the princess and I sat down.

I never hinted at the drunken gentleman, or about my former behavior, or about Grushnitsky. The impression made on her by the unpleasant scene dissipated little by little; her face blossomed; she joked very nicely; her conversation was sharp, without any pretense of wit, lively and free; her remarks are sometimes profound... I made her feel, with a very confused phrase, that I had liked her for a long time. She tilted her head and blushed slightly.

You are a strange person! she said later, raising her velvety eyes to me and forced a laugh.

I didn't want to get to know you," I continued, "because you are surrounded by too dense a crowd of admirers, and I was afraid to disappear into it completely.

You were right to be afraid! They are all boring...

All! Is it all?

She looked at me intently, as if trying to remember something, then blushed slightly again, and finally said resolutely: that's it!

Even my friend Grushnitsky?

And is he your friend? she said, showing some doubt.

Of course, he is not included in the category of boring ...

But in the category of unfortunates, - I said laughing.

Certainly! Are you funny? I wish you were in his place...

Well? I myself was once a Junker, and, really, this is the best time of my life!

But is he a junker? .. - she said quickly, and then added: - But I thought ...

What did you think?..

Nothing!.. Who is this lady?

Here the conversation changed direction and never returned to it.

Here the mazurka ended, and we said goodbye - goodbye. The ladies have parted... I went to supper and met Werner.

Ah-ha! - he said, - so you! And they also wanted to get acquainted with the princess in no other way than by saving her from certain death.

I did better, - I answered him, - saved her from fainting at the ball! ..

Like this? Tell!..

No, guess it - oh you who guess everything in the world!

About seven o'clock in the evening I was walking on the boulevard. Grushnitsky, seeing me from a distance, came up to me: a kind of ridiculous delight shone in his eyes. He shook my hand warmly and said in a tragic voice:

Thank you, Pechorin... Do you understand me?...

No; but, in any case, it’s not worth gratitude, ”I answered, having no benefit on my conscience.

How? but yesterday? Have you forgotten? Mary told me everything...

And what? do you have everything in common now? and gratitude?

Listen, - said Grushnitsky very importantly, - please don't make fun of my love if you want to remain my friend ... You see: I love her to the point of madness ... and I think, I hope she loves me too ... I have a request before you: you will be with them tonight ... promise me to notice everything; I know you are experienced in these things, you know women better than me... Women! women! who will understand them? Their smiles contradict their gazes, their words promise and beckon, and the sound of their voice repels ... Either they comprehend and guess our most secret thought in a minute, or they do not understand the clearest hints ... At least the princess: yesterday her eyes burned with passion dwelling on me, now they are dull and cold...

This may be due to the action of the waters, I replied.

You see the bad side in everything... a materialist! he added contemptuously. - However, let's change the matter, - and, pleased with the bad pun, he cheered.

At nine o'clock we went together to the princess.

Passing by Vera's windows, I saw her at the window. We gave each other a quick glance. She entered the Ligovskys' drawing room shortly after us. The princess introduced me to her as her relative. Drank tea; there were many guests; the conversation was general. I tried to please the princess, I joked, I made her laugh heartily several times; the princess also wanted to laugh more than once, but she restrained herself so as not to get out of her accepted role; she finds that languor is coming to her - and, perhaps, she is not mistaken. Grushnitsky seems to be very glad that my gaiety does not infect her.

After tea, everyone went to the hall.

Are you satisfied with my obedience, Vera? I said walking past her.

She gave me a look of love and gratitude. I'm used to these views; but once they were my bliss. The princess seated her daughter at the pianoforte; everyone asked her to sing something, - I was silent and, taking advantage of the turmoil, went to the window with Vera, who wanted to tell me something very important for both of us ... It turned out - nonsense ...

Meanwhile, the princess was annoyed by my indifference, as I could guess from one angry, brilliant look ... Oh, I surprisingly understand this conversation, mute, but expressive, brief, but strong! ..

Listen, - Vera told me, - I don't want you to meet my husband, but the princess must certainly like you; it's easy for you: you can do whatever you want. We will only see each other here ... - Only? .. She blushed and continued:

You know that I am your slave; I never knew how to resist you ... and I will be punished for this: you will stop loving me! At least I want to save my reputation... not for myself: you know that very well! I feel that I'm getting weaker day by day... and despite this, I can't think about the future life, I only think about you. You men do not understand the pleasures of a look, a handshake, but I swear to you, listening to your voice, I feel such a deep, strange bliss that the hottest kisses cannot replace it.

Meanwhile, Princess Mary stopped singing. A murmur of praise resounded around her; I went up to her after everyone else and said something to her about her voice rather casually.

I am all the more flattered,” she said, “that you did not listen to me at all; but maybe you don't like music?

On the contrary... especially after dinner.

Grushnitsky is right when he says that you have the most prosaic tastes... and I see that you love music in gastronomic terms...

You are mistaken again: I am not a grocery store at all: I have a bad stomach. But music in the afternoon puts me to sleep, and it's great to sleep in the afternoon: hence I love music medically. In the evening, on the contrary, it irritates my nerves too much: it makes me either too sad or too cheerful. Both are tiresome when there is no positive reason to be sad or to rejoice, and besides, sadness in society is ridiculous, and too much gaiety is indecent ...

She did not finish listening, walked away, sat down near Grushnitsky, and some kind of sentimental conversation began between them: it seems that the princess answered his wise phrases rather absent-mindedly and unsuccessfully, although she tried to show that she was listening to him with attention, because he sometimes looked at her with astonishment, trying to guess the cause of the inner agitation that was sometimes depicted in her restless look ...

But I guessed you, dear princess, beware! You want to repay me with the same coin, prick my vanity - you will not succeed! and if you declare war on me, then I will be merciless.

In the course of the evening, I deliberately tried several times to intervene in their conversation, but she met my remarks rather coldly, and I finally left with feigned annoyance. The princess was triumphant, as was Grushnitsky. Triumph, my friends, hurry up... you won't have long to triumph!.. How to be? I have a premonition ... When I met a woman, I always guessed accurately whether she would love me or not ...

I spent the rest of the evening near Vera and talked to my fill about the old days ... Why she loves me so much, really, I don’t know! Moreover, this is one woman who understood me completely, with all my petty weaknesses, bad passions ... Is evil so attractive? ..

We went out together with Grushnitsky; in the street he took my arm and after a long silence said:

"You're stupid," I wanted to answer him, but I restrained myself and just shrugged my shoulders.

All these days I have never deviated from my system. The princess begins to like my conversation; I told her some of the strange cases of my life, and she begins to see me as an extraordinary person. I laugh at everything in the world, especially at feelings: it starts to frighten her. She does not dare to enter into sentimental debates with Grushnitsky in my presence, and has already several times answered his antics with a mocking smile; but every time Grushnitsky comes up to her, I assume a humble air and leave them alone; for the first time she was glad about it, or tried to show it; in the second, she got angry with me, in the third, with Grushnitsky.

You have very little self-esteem! she told me yesterday. - Why do you think I'm more fun with Grushnitsky?

I replied that I was sacrificing my pleasure to my friend's happiness...

And mine,” she added.

I looked at her closely and assumed a serious expression. Then he didn't say a word to her all day... In the evening she was thoughtful, this morning at the well even more thoughtful; when I approached her, she listened absently to Grushnitsky, who seemed to admire nature, but as soon as she saw me, she began to laugh (very inopportunely), showing that she did not notice me. I moved away and furtively began to observe her: she turned away from her interlocutor and yawned twice.

Decidedly, Grushnitsky bored her.

I won't speak to her for two more days.

I often ask myself why I so stubbornly seek the love of a young girl whom I do not want to seduce and whom I will never marry? Why is this female coquetry? Vera loves me more than Princess Mary will ever love me; if she had seemed to me an invincible beauty, then perhaps I would have been carried away by the difficulty of the undertaking ... But it didn’t happen at all! Therefore, it is not that restless need for love that torments us in the first years of youth, throws us from one woman to another until we find one who cannot stand us: here our constancy begins - a true endless passion, which can be mathematically expressed by a line falling from a point into space; the secret of this infinity is only in the impossibility of reaching the goal, that is, the end.

What am I doing? Out of envy for Grushnitsky? Poor thing, he doesn't deserve it at all. Or is it the result of that nasty but invincible feeling that makes us destroy the sweet delusions of our neighbor in order to have the petty pleasure of telling him, when he in despair asks what he should believe: “My friend, the same thing happened to me, and you you see, however, I have lunch, supper and sleep very peacefully and, I hope, I will be able to die without screaming and tears!

But there is an immense pleasure in the possession of a young, barely blossoming soul! She is like a flower whose best fragrance evaporates towards the first ray of the sun; it must be torn off at that moment and, after breathing it to its fullest, throw it on the road: maybe someone will pick it up! I feel this insatiable greed in me, consuming everything that comes in the way; I look at the sufferings and joys of others only in relation to myself, as food that supports my spiritual strength. I myself am no longer capable of madness under the influence of passion; my ambition is suppressed by circumstances, but it manifested itself in a different form, for ambition is nothing but a thirst for power, and my first pleasure is to subordinate everything that surrounds me to my will; arouse to oneself a feeling of love, devotion and fear - is this not the first sign and the greatest triumph of power? To be the cause of suffering and joy for someone, without having any positive right to do so - is this not the sweetest food of our pride? And what is happiness? Intense pride. If I considered myself better, more powerful than anyone in the world, I would be happy; if everyone loved me, I would find in myself endless sources of love. Evil begets evil; the first suffering gives the idea of ​​the pleasure of torturing another; the idea of ​​evil cannot enter a person's head without him wanting to apply it to reality: ideas are organic creations, someone said: their birth already gives them a form, and this form is action; the one in whose head more ideas were born, he acts more than others; from this the genius, chained to the bureaucratic table, must die or go insane, just as a man with a powerful physique, with a sedentary life and a modest behavior, dies of apoplexy. Passions are nothing but ideas in their first development: they belong to the youth of the heart, and he is a fool who thinks to be agitated by them all his life: many calm rivers begin with noisy waterfalls, and not a single one jumps and foams to the very sea. But this tranquility is often the sign of a great, though latent, power; the fullness and depth of feelings and thoughts does not allow frantic impulses; the soul, suffering and enjoying, gives a strict account of everything and is convinced that it should be so; she knows that without thunderstorms, the constant heat of the sun will dry her up; she is imbued with her own life, she cherishes and punishes herself, like a beloved child. Only in this highest state of self-knowledge can a person appreciate the justice of God.

Rereading this page, I notice that I have digressed far from my subject... But what is the need? memory.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Grushnitsky came and threw himself on my neck: he was promoted to officer. We drank champagne. Dr. Werner followed him in.

I don’t congratulate you,” he said to Grushnitsky.

Because a soldier's overcoat suits you very well, and admit that an army infantry uniform sewn here on the waters will not give you anything interesting ... You see, you have been an exception so far, but now you will fit the general rule.

Interpret, interpret, doctor! You won't stop me from enjoying. He doesn't know,' Grushnitsky added in my ear, 'how many hopes these epaulettes gave me... Oh, epaulettes, epaulettes! your stars, guiding stars... No! I am completely happy now.

Are you coming with us for a walk to failure? I asked him.

I? I will never show myself to the princess until my uniform is ready.

Will you order her to announce your joy? ..

No, please don't say... I want to surprise her...

Tell me, however, how are you doing with her?

He was embarrassed and thoughtful: he wanted to boast, to lie - and he was ashamed, and at the same time he was ashamed to confess the truth.

Do you think she loves you?

Does he love? For mercy, Pechorin, what ideas do you have! .. how can it be so soon? .. Yes, even if she loves, then a decent woman will not say this ...

Fine! And, probably, in your opinion, a decent person should also be silent about his passion? ..

Eh, brother! everything has a manner; much is not said, but guessed ...

It's true... Only the love that we read in the eyes does not oblige a woman to anything, while words... Beware, Grushnitsky, she's cheating you...

She? .. - he answered, raising his eyes to the sky and smiling smugly, - I pity you, Pechorin! ..

In the evening, a large society went on foot to the failure.

According to local scientists, this failure is nothing more than an extinct crater; it is located on the slope of Mashuk, a verst from the city. A narrow path between bushes and rocks leads to it; climbing the mountain, I gave my hand to the princess, and she did not leave her during the whole walk.

Our conversation began with slander: I began to sort out our acquaintances present and absent, first showing their funny, and then their bad sides. My bile was agitated. I started out jokingly and ended up being really angry. At first it amused her, then it frightened her.

You are a dangerous person! she said to me, “I would rather be caught under the knife of a murderer in the forest than on your tongue ... I ask you not jokingly: when you take it into your head to speak ill of me, it’s better to take a knife and slaughter me, - I think it’s it won't be very difficult for you.

Do I look like a killer?

You are worse...

I thought for a moment and then said, assuming a deeply moved look:

Yes, this has been my fate since childhood. Everyone read on my face signs of bad feelings, which were not there; but they were supposed - and they were born. I was modest - I was accused of slyness: I became secretive. I deeply felt good and evil; no one caressed me, everyone insulted me: I became vindictive; I was gloomy - other children are cheerful and talkative; I felt myself superior to them - I was placed below. I became envious. I was ready to love the whole world - no one understood me: and I learned to hate. My colorless youth flowed in the struggle with myself and the light; my best feelings, fearing ridicule, I buried in the depths of my heart: they died there. I spoke the truth - they did not believe me: I began to deceive; knowing well the light and springs of society, I became skilled in the science of life and saw how others without art were happy, enjoying the gift of those benefits that I so tirelessly sought. And then despair was born in my chest - not that despair that is cured at the muzzle of a pistol, but cold, powerless despair, hidden behind courtesy and a good-natured smile. I became a moral cripple: one half of my soul did not exist, it dried up, evaporated, died, I cut it off and threw it away, while the other moved and lived at the service of everyone, and no one noticed this, because no one knew about the existence of the deceased half of it; but now you have awakened in me the memory of her, and I have read her epitaph to you. To many, all epitaphs in general seem ridiculous, but not to me, especially when I remember what lies beneath them. However, I do not ask you to share my opinion: if my trick seems ridiculous to you, please laugh: I warn you that this will not upset me in the least.

At that moment I met her eyes: tears ran in them; her hand, leaning on mine, trembled; cheeks glowed; she felt sorry for me! Compassion - a feeling that all women submit so easily, let its claws into her inexperienced heart. During the whole walk she was absent-minded, did not flirt with anyone - and this is a great sign!

We have come to a halt; the ladies left their gentlemen, but she did not leave my hand. The witticisms of the local dandies did not make her laugh; the steepness of the cliff at which she stood did not frighten her, while the other young ladies squeaked and closed their eyes.

On the way back, I did not resume our sad conversation; but to my empty questions and jokes she answered briefly and absent-mindedly.

Did you love? I asked her at last.

She looked at me intently, shook her head, and again fell into thoughtfulness: it was obvious that she wanted to say something, but she did not know where to begin; her chest was agitated... How to be! the muslin sleeve was a weak defense, and an electric spark ran from my hand into her hand; almost all passions begin like this, and we often deceive ourselves very much, thinking that a woman loves us for our physical or moral virtues; of course, they prepare her heart to receive the sacred fire, but still the first touch decides the matter.

Isn't it true that I was very kind today? - said the princess to me with a forced smile, when we returned from the walk.

We broke up.

She is dissatisfied with herself: she accuses herself of coldness ... oh, this is the first, main triumph! Tomorrow she will want to reward me. I already know all this by heart - that's what's boring!

Today I saw Vera. She tortured me with her jealousy. The princess, it seems, took it into her head to confide her heart secrets to her: I must admit, a good choice!

I guess what all this is leading to, - Vera told me, - it’s better to just tell me now that you love her.

But what if I don't love her?

Then why pursue her, disturb her, excite her imagination? .. Oh, I know you well! Listen, if you want me to believe you, then come back to Kislovodsk in a week; the day after tomorrow we move there. The princess stays here longer. Find an apartment nearby we will live in a big house near the source, on the mezzanine; Downstairs is Princess Ligovskaya, and nearby is the house of the same owner, who is not yet occupied... Will you come? . .

I promised - and the same day I sent to occupy this apartment.

Grushnitsky came to me at six o'clock in the evening and announced that tomorrow his uniform would be ready, just in time for the ball.

Finally, I will dance with her all evening ... I'll talk a lot! he added.

When is the ball?

See you tomorrow! Don't you know? A big holiday, and the local authorities undertook to arrange it ...

Let's go to the boulevard...

No way, in that nasty overcoat...

How did you fall in love with her?

I left alone and, meeting Princess Mary, invited her to the mazurka. She seemed surprised and delighted.

I thought that you only dance out of necessity, like last time," she said, smiling very sweetly...

She does not seem to notice Grushnitsky's absence at all.

You will be pleasantly surprised tomorrow, I told her.

It's a secret... you'll guess at the ball.

I ended the evening with the princess; there were no guests, except for Vera and one amusing old man. I was in good spirits, improvised various extraordinary stories; the princess sat opposite me and listened to my nonsense with such deep, intense, even tender attention that I felt ashamed. Where did her liveliness, her coquetry, her whims, her insolent mien, her contemptuous smile, her absent-minded glance go? ..

Vera noticed all this: deep sadness was depicted on her sickly face; she was sitting in the shade by the window, sinking into wide armchairs... I felt sorry for her...

Then I told the whole dramatic story of our acquaintance with her, our love - of course, covering all this with fictitious names.

I so vividly depicted my tenderness, my anxieties, delights; I put her actions and character in such a favorable light that she involuntarily had to forgive me my coquetry with the princess.

She got up, sat down beside us, perked up... and only at two o'clock in the morning did we remember that the doctors had told us to go to bed at eleven.

Half an hour before the ball, Grushnitsky appeared to me in the full radiance of an army infantry uniform. Attached to the third button was a bronze chain from which hung a double lorgnette; epaulettes of incredible size were bent up in the form of cupid's wings; his boots creaked; in his left hand he held brown kid gloves and a cap, and with his right hand he constantly fluffed a curled tuft of hair into small curls. Self-satisfaction and at the same time a certain uncertainty were depicted on his face; his festive appearance, his proud gait, would make me burst out laughing, if it were in accordance with my intentions.

He threw his cap and gloves on the table and began to tighten his tails and straighten himself in front of the mirror; a huge black handkerchief, wrapped around a tall tie, whose bristles supported his chin, protruded half an inch from behind the collar; it seemed to him not enough: he pulled it up to the ears; from this difficult work, for the collar of his uniform was very narrow and restless, his face was filled with blood.

You, they say, have been terribly dragging after my princess these days? he said rather carelessly and without looking at me.

Where can we, fools, drink tea! - I answered him, repeating the favorite saying of one of the most dexterous rake of the past, once sung by Pushkin.

Tell me, does the uniform fit well on me?.. Oh, damned Jew!.. like under the armpits? cuts!.. Do you have spirits?

Have mercy, what else do you want? you smell like pink lipstick...

Nothing. Give it here...

He poured himself half a bottle in his tie, in his handkerchief, on his sleeves.

You will dance? - he asked.

Don't think.

I am afraid that I will have to start a mazurka with the princess - I don’t know almost a single figure ...

Did you invite her to the mazurka?

Not yet...

Watch out you don't get warned...

Indeed? he said, hitting his forehead. - Farewell ... I'll go wait for her at the entrance. He grabbed his cap and ran.

Half an hour later I left. The street was dark and empty; around the meeting or the tavern, as you like, crowded people; its windows shone; the sounds of regimental music were carried to me by the evening wind. I walked slowly; I was sad ... Is it really, I thought, my only purpose on earth is to destroy other people's hopes? Since I have been living and acting, fate has somehow always led me to the denouement of other people's dramas, as if without me no one could die or despair! I was the necessary face of the fifth act; involuntarily I played the pitiful role of executioner or traitor. What purpose did fate have for this? .. Haven’t I been appointed by her to be the writers of petty-bourgeois tragedies and family novels - or to the staff of the supplier of stories, for example, for the "Library for Reading"? .. Why should I know? life, they think of ending it like Alexander the Great or Lord Byron, and meanwhile remain titular advisers for a whole century? ..

Entering the hall, I hid in a crowd of men and began to make my observations. Grushnitsky stood near the princess and said something with great warmth; she listened to him absently, looked around, putting her fan to her lips; her face showed impatience, her eyes searched around for someone; I quietly approached from behind to eavesdrop on their conversation.

You torture me, princess! - said Grushnitsky, - you have changed terribly since I did not see you ...

You have also changed,” she replied, throwing a quick glance at him, in which he could not make out the secret mockery.

I? have I changed?.. Oh, never! You know it's impossible! Whoever saw you once will take your divine image with him forever.

Stop...

Why do you now not want to listen to what until recently, and so often, you listened favorably? ..

Because I don't like repetition, she answered, laughing...

Oh, I was bitterly mistaken!.. I thought, madly, that at least these epaulettes would give me the right to hope... No, it would be better for me to remain for a century in this contemptible soldier's overcoat, to which, perhaps, I owe your attention.. .

In fact, an overcoat suits you much more ...

At this time I went up and bowed to the princess; she blushed a little and said quickly:

Isn't it true, Monsieur Pechorin, that the gray overcoat suits Monsieur Grushnitsky much more? ..

I do not agree with you, - I answered, - in uniform he is even younger.

Grushnitsky could not bear this blow; like all boys, he has a pretense of being an old man; he thinks that deep traces of passions on his face replace the imprint of years. He gave me a furious look, stamped his foot and walked away.

And admit, - I said to the princess, - that although he was always very funny, but until recently he seemed interesting to you ... in a gray overcoat? ..

She lowered her eyes and did not answer.

Grushnitsky pursued the princess the whole evening, dancing either with her or vis-E-vis; he devoured her with his eyes, sighed, and bored her with entreaties and reproaches. After the third quadrille, she already hated him.

I didn't expect this from you," he said, coming up to me and taking my hand.

Are you dancing the mazurka with her? he asked in a solemn voice. She confessed to me...

Well, so what? And is it a secret?

Of course ... I should have expected this from a girl ... from a coquette ... I'll have my revenge!

Blame it on your overcoat or your epaulettes, but why blame her? Is it her fault that she doesn't like you anymore?

Why give hope?

Why did you hope? To wish and achieve something - I understand, but who hopes?

You won the bet - but not quite, - he said, smiling evilly.

The mazurka has begun. Grushnitsky chose only one princess, the other cavaliers chose her every minute; it was clearly a conspiracy against me; so much the better: she wants to talk to me, they interfere with her - she wants twice as much.

I shook her hand twice; the second time she pulled it out without saying a word.

I will sleep badly tonight,” she told me when the mazurka was over.

Grushnitsky is to blame for this.

Oh no! - And her face became so thoughtful, so sad that I promised myself that evening I would definitely kiss her hand.

They began to leave. Putting the princess into the carriage, I quickly pressed her little hand to my lips. It was dark and no one could see it.

I returned to the hall very pleased with myself.

Young people were dining at a large table, and among them Grushnitsky. When I entered, everyone fell silent: apparently, they were talking about me. Many people have been pouting at me since the last ball, especially the captain of the dragoons, and now, it seems, a hostile gang under the command of Grushnitsky is resolutely formed against me. He looks so proud and brave... Very glad; I love enemies, although not in a Christian way. They amuse me, excite my blood. To be always on the alert, to catch every glance, the meaning of every word, to guess intentions, to destroy conspiracies, to pretend to be deceived, and suddenly with one push to topple the whole huge and laborious edifice of their cunning and plans - that's what I call life.

As dinner went on, Grushnitsky whispered and winked at the dragoon captain.

This morning Vera left with her husband for Kislovodsk. I met their carriage on my way to Princess Ligovskaya. She nodded her head to me: there was reproach in her eyes.

Who is to blame? Why doesn't she want to give me a chance to see her alone? Love is like a fire - it goes out without food. Perhaps jealousy will do what my requests could not.

I sat with the princess for an hour. Mary did not come out - she is sick. In the evening she was not on the boulevard. The newly formed gang, armed with lorgnettes, took on a truly formidable look. I am glad that the princess is ill: they would do her some impudence. Grushnitsky has disheveled hair and a desperate look; he seems to be really upset, his pride is especially offended; But there are people in whom even despair is amusing!...

Returning home, I noticed that I was missing something. I didn't see her! She is ill! Have I really fallen in love?.. What nonsense!

At eleven o'clock in the morning - the hour at which Princess Ligovskaya usually sweats in the Yermolov bath - I walked past her house. The princess was sitting pensively by the window; when she saw me, she jumped up.

I entered the hall; there were no people, and without a report, using the freedom of local customs, I made my way into the living room.

A dull pallor covered the princess's pretty face. She was standing at the pianoforte, leaning with one hand on the back of her chairs: this hand trembled a little; I quietly approached her and said:

Are you angry with me?

She looked up at me with a languid, deep gaze and shook her head; her lips wanted to say something - and could not; eyes filled with tears; she sank into an armchair and covered her face with her hands.

What's wrong with you? I said taking her hand.

You don't respect me!.. Oh! Leave me! . .

I took a few steps ... She straightened up in her chair, her eyes sparkled ...

I stopped, grabbed the door handle and said:

Forgive me, princess! I acted like a madman ... this will not happen another time: I will take my own measures ... Why do you need to know what has been going on in my soul so far! You will never know, and so much the better for you. Farewell.

As I left, I think I heard her crying.

Until evening I wandered on foot around the outskirts of Mashuk, got terribly tired and, having come home, threw myself on the bed in complete exhaustion.

Werner came to see me.

Is it true, he asked, that you are marrying Princess Ligovskaya?

The whole city is talking; all my patients are busy with this important news, and these patients are such a people: everyone knows!

"These are Grushnitsky's jokes!" I thought.

To prove to you, doctor, the falsity of these rumors, I announce to you in confidence that tomorrow I am moving to Kislovodsk ...

And the princess too?

No, she stays here for another week...

So you're not getting married?

Doctor, doctor! look at me: do I really look like a groom or something like that?

I don’t say that... but you know, there are cases...” he added, smiling slyly, “in which a noble person is obliged to marry, and there are mothers who at least do not prevent these cases... So, I’ll tell you I advise, as a friend, be careful! Here, on the waters, the air is extremely dangerous: how many beautiful young people I have seen, worthy of a better fate, and leaving here right down the aisle ... Even, believe me, they wanted to marry me! Exactly. one county mother, whose daughter was very pale. I had the misfortune to tell her that the complexion would return after marriage; then, with tears of gratitude, she offered me the hand of her daughter and all her fortune - fifty souls, I think. But I replied that I was not capable of this ...

Werner left, fully convinced that he had warned me.

From his words, I noticed that all sorts of bad rumors had already been spread about me and the princess in the city: this would not go unnoticed for Grushnitsky!

It's been three days since I've been in Kislovodsk. Every day I see Vera at the well and for a walk. In the morning, waking up, I sit by the window and point my lorgnette at her balcony; she has long been dressed and is waiting for a signal; we meet, as if by chance, in the garden, which descends from our houses to the well. The life-giving mountain air returned her complexion and strength. No wonder Narzan is called the heroic key. Local residents claim that the air of Kislovodsk is conducive to love, that there are denouements of all novels that have ever begun at the sole of Mashuk. Indeed, here everything breathes solitude; here everything is mysterious - and the dense canopy of linden alleys, leaning over the stream, which, with noise and foam, falling from slab to slab, cuts its way between the green mountains, and the gorges, full of darkness and silence, whose branches scatter from here in all directions, and the freshness of the aromatic air, weighed down by the vapors of tall southern grasses and white locust, and the constant, sweetly soporific noise of icy streams, which, meeting at the end of the valley, run in unison and finally rush into Podkumok. On this side the gorge is wider and turns into a green hollow; a dusty road winds along it. Every time I look at her, it always seems to me that a carriage is coming, and a pink face is looking out of the carriage window. So many carriages have passed along this road, but that one is still gone. Slobodka, which is behind the fortress, was inhabited; in a restaurant built on a hill, a few steps from my apartment, lights begin to flicker in the evening through a double row of poplars; the noise and clinking of glasses is heard until late at night.

Nowhere do they drink so much Kakhetian wine and mineral water as here.

But to mix these two crafts

There are plenty of hunters - I'm not one of them.

Grushnitsky with his gang rages every day in the tavern and hardly bows to me.

He only arrived yesterday, but he had already quarreled with three old men who wanted to sit in the bath before him: decisively - misfortunes develop a warlike spirit in him.

Finally they arrived. I was sitting at the window when I heard the sound of their carriage: my heart trembled ... What is it? Am I in love? I am so stupidly created that this can be expected of me.

I dined with them. The princess looks at me very tenderly and does not leave her daughter ... bad! But Vera is jealous of the princess: I have achieved this well-being! What a woman will not do to upset her rival! I remember one fell in love with me because I loved another. There is nothing more paradoxical than the female mind; women are difficult to convince of anything, they must be brought to the point where they convince themselves; the order of evidence with which they destroy their warnings is very original; in order to learn their dialectics, one must overthrow in one's mind all the school rules of logic. For example, the usual way:

This man loves me, but I am married: therefore, I should not love him.

Women's way:

I must not love him, for I am married; but he loves me, so...

There are several dots here, because the mind no longer says anything, but mostly speak: the tongue, the eyes, and after them the heart, if there is one.

What if someday these notes fall into the eyes of a woman? "Slander!" she screams indignantly.

Since poets write and women read them (for which they are deeply grateful), they have been called angels so many times that they really, in the simplicity of their souls, believed this compliment, forgetting that the same poets called Nero a demigod for money ...

It would be inappropriate for me to speak of them with such anger - to me, who, apart from them, loved nothing in the world, - to me, who was always ready to sacrifice calmness, ambition, life for them ... But I'm not in a fit of annoyance and offended pride, I try to pull off from them that magical veil through which only the habitual gaze penetrates. No, everything I say about them is only a consequence.

Crazy cold observations

And hearts of sad notes.

Women should wish that all men knew them as well as I do, because I love them a hundred times more since I am not afraid of them and comprehended their petty weaknesses.

By the way: Werner recently compared women with the enchanted forest, which Tass tells about in his "Liberated Jerusalem". “Just get started,” he said, “such fears will fly at you from all sides, that God forbid: duty, pride, decency ... You just don’t have to look, but go straight, little by little the monsters disappear and opens before you a quiet and bright clearing, among which green myrtle blossoms.

This evening was full of incidents. About three versts from Kislovodsk, in the gorge where the Podkumok flows, there is a rock called the Ring; it is a gate formed by nature; they rise on a high hill, and through them the setting sun throws its last fiery glance at the world. Numerous cavalcade went there to watch the sunset through the stone window. None of us really thought about the sun. I rode near the princess; returning home, it was necessary to ford Podkumok. Mountain rivers, the smallest, are dangerous, especially because their bottom is a perfect kaleidoscope: every day it changes from the pressure of the waves; where there was yesterday a stone, there is now a pit. I took the princess's horse by the bridle and led it into the water, which was not above the knees; we slowly began to move obliquely against the current. It is known that, when crossing fast rivers, one should not look at the water, because immediately the head will spin. I forgot to preface Princess Mary about this.

We were already in the middle, in the very rapids, when she suddenly swayed in her saddle. "I feel bad!" - She said in a weak voice ... I quickly leaned towards her, wrapped my arm around her flexible waist. "Look up!" I whispered to her, "it's nothing, just don't be afraid; I'm with you."

She got better; she wanted to free herself from my hand, but I entwined her gentle soft waist even tighter; my cheek almost touched hers; flames emanated from her.

What are you doing to me? My God!..

I paid no attention to her trembling and embarrassment, and my lips touched her tender cheek; she started, but said nothing; we were driving behind; no one took it out. When we got ashore, everyone set off at a trot. The princess restrained her horse; I stayed near her; it was evident that she was disturbed by my silence, but I vowed not to say a word - out of curiosity. I wanted to see how she would extricate herself from this predicament.

Either you despise me, or love me very much! she finally said in a voice filled with tears. - Maybe you want to laugh at me, disturb my soul and then leave.-. It would be so mean, so low, that one guess... oh no! Isn’t it true,” she added in a voice of tender power of attorney, “isn’t it true, there’s nothing in me that would exclude respect? Your impudent act... I must, I must forgive you, because I allowed... Answer, speak, I want to hear your voice!... - There was such feminine impatience in the last words that I involuntarily smiled; Luckily, it was starting to get dark. I didn't answer.

You are silent? she continued, “perhaps you want me to be the first to tell you that I love you?...

I was silent...

Do you want this? she continued, quickly turning to me... There was something terrible in the determination of her eyes and voice...

For what? I replied with a shrug.

She whipped her horse and set off at full speed along the narrow, dangerous road; it happened so soon that I could hardly catch up with her, and then when she had already joined the rest of society. All the way to the house she talked and laughed every minute. There was something feverish in her movements; She never looked at me. Everyone noticed this extraordinary gaiety. And the princess inwardly rejoiced, looking at her daughter; and the daughter just has a nervous attack: she will spend the night without sleep and will cry. This thought gives me immense pleasure: there are moments when I understand the Vampire ... And I also have a reputation as a good fellow and I strive for this title!

Dismounting from their horses, the ladies went in to the princess; I was excited and rode to the mountains to dispel the thoughts crowding in my head. The dewy evening breathed intoxicating coolness. The moon rose from behind the dark peaks. Every step of my unshod horse was muffled in the silence of the gorges; at the waterfall I watered my horse, greedily breathed in a couple of times the fresh air of the southern night and set off on my way back. I drove through the suburb. The lights began to fade in the windows; the sentries on the ramparts of the fortress and the Cossacks at the surrounding pickets called out to one another...

In one of the houses in the settlement, built on the edge of a cliff, I noticed extraordinary lighting; from time to time there was a discordant conversation and shouts, revealing a military revel. I got down and crept up to the window; the loosely closed shutter allowed me to see the feasters and hear their words. They talked about me.

The dragoon captain, flushed with wine, slammed his fist on the table, demanding attention.

Lord! he said, “it doesn’t look like anything. Pechorin must be taught a lesson! These St. Petersburg fledglings are always arrogant until you hit them in the nose! He thinks that he is the only one and lived in the world, because he always wears clean gloves and polished boots.

And what an arrogant smile! And I am sure, meanwhile, that he is a coward - yes, a coward!

I think too, - said Grushnitsky. - He likes to joke around. Once I said such things to him that another would have chopped me up on the spot, but Pechorin turned everything into a ridiculous side. I didn't call him, of course, because that was his business; didn't want to get involved...

Grushnitsky is angry with him because he took the princess from him, - someone said.

Here's something else you've come up with! True, I dragged myself a little behind the princess, and I immediately fell behind, because I don’t want to marry, and it’s not in my rules to compromise a girl.

Yes, I assure you that he is the first coward, that is, Pechorin, and not Grushnitsky - oh, Grushnitsky is good, and besides, he is my true friend! said the dragoon captain again. - Lord! no one is protecting him? Nobody? all the better! Do you want to test his courage? This will take care of us...

We want; just how?

But listen: Grushnitsky is especially angry with him - he is the first role! He will find fault with some stupidity and challenge Pechorin to a duel ... Wait a minute; that's the thing... Challenge him to a duel: good! All this - the challenge, the preparations, the conditions - will be as solemn and terrible as possible, - I undertake it; I'll be your second, my poor friend! Fine! Only here is where the squiggle is: we will not put bullets in pistols. I’m telling you that Pechorin is a coward - I’ll put them at six steps, damn it! Do you agree, gentlemen?

Nicely thought out! agree! why not? resounded from all sides.

And you, Grushnitsky?

I waited in trepidation for Grushnitsky's answer; cold anger took possession of me at the thought that if it were not for chance, I might become the laughing stock of these fools. If Grushnitsky had not agreed, I would have thrown myself on his neck. But after some silence, he got up from his seat, held out his hand to the captain and said very importantly: "Very well, I agree."

It is difficult to describe the delight of the entire honest company.

I returned home, agitated by two different feelings. The first was sadness. “Why do they all hate me?” I thought. “Why? Have I offended anyone? And I felt that poisonous anger gradually filled my soul. "Beware, Mr. Grushnitsky!" I said, pacing up and down the room. "You don't joke with me like that. You can pay dearly for the approval of your stupid comrades. I'm not your toy!.."

I didn't sleep all night. By morning I was as yellow as an orange.

In the morning I met the princess at the well.

You are sick? she said, looking fixedly at me.

I didn't sleep the night.

And I also... I blamed you... maybe in vain? But explain yourself, I can forgive you everything ...

Is that all?..

Everyone... just tell the truth... just hurry... You see, I thought a lot, tried to explain, to justify your behavior; maybe you are afraid of obstacles from my relatives... that's nothing; when they find out... (her voice trembled) I'll beg them. Or your own position ... but know that I can sacrifice everything for the one I love ... Oh, answer quickly, take pity ... You do not despise me, do you? She grabbed my hands. The princess walked ahead of Vera's husband and me and saw nothing; but we could be seen by sick people walking about, the most inquisitive gossipers of all curious, and I quickly freed my hand from its passionate grip.

I will tell you the whole truth, - I answered the princess, - I will not justify myself, nor explain my actions; I do not love you...

Her lips are slightly pale...

Leave me," she said in a barely audible voice.

I shrugged, turned and left.

I sometimes despise myself... isn't that why I despise others too?... I have become incapable of noble impulses; I'm afraid to seem ridiculous to myself. Someone else in my place would have offered the princess son coeur et sa fortune; 14 But over me the word marry has some kind of magical power: no matter how passionately I love a woman, if she only makes me feel that I must marry her, forgive me, love! my heart turns to stone and nothing will warm it up again. I am ready for all sacrifices except this one; twenty times my life, I'll even put my honor on the line... but I won't sell my freedom. Why do I treasure her so much? what do I need in it?.. where am I preparing myself? what do I expect from the future?.. Really, absolutely nothing. This is some kind of innate fear, an inexplicable premonition ... After all, there are people who are unconsciously afraid of spiders, cockroaches, mice ... Must I confess? .. When I was still a child, one old woman wondered about me to my mother; she predicted to me death from an evil wife; This struck me deeply at the time; an irresistible aversion to marriage was born in my soul ... Meanwhile, something tells me that her prediction will come true; At least I will try to make it come true as soon as possible.

The magician Apfelbaum arrived here yesterday. A long poster appeared on the doors of the restaurant, announcing to the most respectable public that the above-named amazing magician, acrobat, chemist and optician would have the honor to give a magnificent performance of today's date at eight o'clock in the evening, in the hall of the Noble Assembly (otherwise - in the restaurant); tickets for two rubles and a half.

Everyone is going to go see an amazing magician; even Princess Ligovskaya, despite the fact that her daughter was ill, took a ticket for herself.

This afternoon I walked past Vera's windows; she was sitting on the balcony alone; a note fell at my feet:

“Today at ten o’clock in the evening, come to me along the big stairs; my husband left for Pyatigorsk and will only return tomorrow morning. My people and maids will not be in the house: I gave them all tickets, also the princess’s people. certainly."

"A-ha! - I thought, - finally it turned out in my opinion."

At eight o'clock I went to see a magician. The audience gathered at the end of the ninth; the show started. In the back rows of chairs I recognized the lackeys and maids of Vera and the princess. Everyone was right here. Grushnitsky sat in the front row with a lorgnette. The magician turned to him whenever he needed a handkerchief, a watch, a ring, and so on.

Grushnitsky has not bowed to me for some time now, and today he looked at me rather insolently a couple of times. He will remember all this when we have to pay.

At the end of the tenth, I got up and left.

It was dark outside, even gouge out your eyes. Heavy, cold clouds lay on the tops of the surrounding mountains: only occasionally did a dying wind rustle the tops of the poplars surrounding the restaurant; people crowded around her windows. I went down the mountain, and turning into the gate, added a step. Suddenly I thought someone was following me. I stopped and looked around. Nothing could be made out in the darkness; however, out of caution, I walked, as if walking, around the house. Passing by the princess's windows, I again heard footsteps behind me; a man wrapped in an overcoat ran past me. This alarmed me; however, I crept to the porch and hurried up the dark stairs. The door opened; a small hand grabbed my hand...

Nobody saw you? - Vera said in a whisper, clinging to me.

Now do you believe that I love you? Oh, I hesitated for a long time, I suffered for a long time ... but you make whatever you want out of me.

Her heart was beating fast, her hands were cold as ice. Reproaches of jealousy began, complaints - she demanded that I confess everything to her, saying that she would humbly endure my betrayal, because she only wanted my happiness. I did not quite believe this, but I reassured her with oaths, promises, and so on.

So you won't marry Mary? don't love her?.. And she thinks... you know, she's madly in love with you, poor thing!...

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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

About two o'clock in the morning I opened the window and, having tied two shawls, went down from the upper balcony to the lower one, holding on to the column. The princess was still on fire. Something pushed me to this window. The curtain was not quite drawn, and I could cast a curious glance into the interior of the room. Mary was sitting on her bed with her arms folded on her knees; her thick hair was collected under a night cap trimmed with lace; a large crimson shawl covered her white shoulders, her little feet were hidden in colorful Persian shoes. She sat motionless, her head bowed to her chest; A book was open on the table in front of her, but her eyes, motionless and full of inexplicable sadness, seemed to be skimming the same page for the hundredth time, while her thoughts were far away...

At that moment someone stirred behind a bush. I jumped off the balcony onto the turf. An invisible hand grabbed my shoulder.

Hold him tight! - shouted another, who jumped out from around the corner.

They were Grushnitsky and the dragoon captain.

I hit the latter on the head with my fist, knocked him down and rushed into the bushes. All the paths of the garden that covered the slope opposite our houses were known to me.

The thieves! guard! .. - they shouted; a rifle shot rang out; the smoking wad fell almost at my feet.

A minute later I was already in my room, undressed and lay down. As soon as my footman locked the door, Grushnitsky and the captain began to knock on my door.

Pechorin! Are you sleeping now? are you here? .. - the captain shouted.

Get up! - thieves... Circassians...

I have a runny nose, - I answered, - I'm afraid of catching a cold.

They are gone. In vain I answered them: they would have looked for me in the garden for another hour. In the meantime, anxiety had become terrible. A Cossack rode up from the fortress. Everything stirred; they began to look for Circassians in all the bushes - and, of course, they did not find anything. But many probably remained in the firm conviction that if the garrison had shown more courage and haste, then at least a dozen or two predators would have remained in place.

This morning at the well there was only talk about the night attack of the Circassians. After drinking the prescribed number of glasses of narzan, walking ten times along the long linden alley, I met Vera's husband, who had just arrived from Pyatigorsk. He took my arm and we went to a restaurant for breakfast; he was terribly worried about his wife. "How frightened she was to-night!" he said, "because it must have happened precisely when I was absent." We sat down to breakfast near the door leading to the corner room, where there were about ten young people, among whom was Grushnitsky. Fate gave me a second opportunity to overhear the conversation that was to decide his fate. He did not see me, and, consequently, I could not suspect intent; but that only increased his guilt in my eyes.

But were they really Circassians? - someone said, - did anyone see them?

I’ll tell you the whole story,” answered Grushnitsky, “only please don’t give me away; this is how it happened: yesterday a man whom I will not name comes to me and tells me that he saw at ten o'clock in the evening how someone crept into the house of the Ligovskys. You should note that the princess was here, and the princess was at home. So we went under the windows with him to lie in wait for the lucky one.

I confess that I was frightened, although my interlocutor was very busy with his breakfast: he could hear things rather unpleasant for himself if Grushnitsky had guessed the truth unequally; but blinded by jealousy, he did not suspect her.

You see, - continued Grushnitsky, - we set off, taking with us a gun loaded with a blank cartridge, just so as to scare. We waited in the garden until two o'clock. Finally - God knows where he came from, only not from the window, because it did not open, but he must have gone out through the glass door behind the column - finally, I say, we see someone coming down from the balcony. .. What is the princess? A? Well, I confess, Moscow young ladies! After that, what can you trust? We wanted to grab him, only he broke free and, like a hare, rushed into the bushes; then I fired at him.

Around Grushnitsky there was a murmur of incredulity.

You do not believe? - he continued, - I give you an honest, noble word that all this is the absolute truth, and as proof, I will perhaps name this gentleman.

Tell me, tell me who he is! resounded from all sides.

Pechorin, - answered Grushnitsky.

At that moment he raised his eyes - I was standing in the door opposite him; he blushed terribly. I went up to him and said slowly and distinctly:

I am very sorry that I entered after you had already given your word of honor in support of the most disgusting slander. My presence would save you from unnecessary meanness.

Grushnitsky jumped up from his seat and wanted to get excited.

I beg you,” I continued in the same tone, “I beg you to drop your words at once; you know very well that this is a fabrication. I do not think that a woman's indifference to your brilliant virtues deserved such terrible vengeance. Think carefully: by supporting your opinion, you lose the right to the name of a noble person and risk your life.

Grushnitsky stood in front of me, lowering his eyes, in great agitation. But the struggle of conscience with pride was short-lived. The captain of the dragoons, who was sitting beside him, nudged him; he shuddered and quickly answered me, without raising his eyes:

Dear sir, when I say something, I think it and I am ready to repeat it... I am not afraid of your threats and I am ready for anything...

You have already proved the latter, - I answered him coldly and, taking the arm of the dragoon captain, I left the room.

What do you want? the captain asked.

Are you a friend of Grushnitsky - and will you probably be his second?

The captain bowed very importantly.

You guessed it, - he answered, - I even have to be his second, because the insult inflicted on him applies to me too: I was with him last night, - he added, straightening his stooped figure.

A! so I hit you so awkwardly on the head?

He turned yellow, turned blue; hidden malice appeared on his face.

I will have the honor to send my second to you noniche,” I added, bowing very politely and showing as if I did not pay attention to his fury.

On the porch of the restaurant, I met Vera's husband. It seems like he was waiting for me.

He grabbed my hand with a feeling like delight.

Noble young man! he said, with tears in his eyes. - I heard everything. What a scoundrel! ungrateful! .. After that, take them to a decent house! Thank God I don't have daughters! But you will be rewarded by the one for which you risk your life. Rest assured of my modesty for the time being,” he continued. - I myself was young and served in military service: I know that one should not interfere in these matters. Farewell.

Poor thing! glad he doesn't have daughters...

I went straight to Werner, found him at home and told him everything - my relationship with Vera and the princess and the conversation that I overheard, from which I learned the intention of these gentlemen to fool me, forcing me to shoot myself with blank charges. But now the matter was beyond the limits of a joke: they probably did not expect such a denouement. The doctor agreed to be my second; I gave him some instructions about the conditions of the duel; he had to insist that the matter be kept as secret as possible, because although I am ready to put myself to death at any time, I am not in the least disposed to spoil my future in this world forever.

After that I went home. An hour later the doctor returned from his expedition.

There is definitely a conspiracy against you,” he said. - I found a dragoon captain and another gentleman at Grushnitsky, whose last name I don’t remember. I stopped for a minute in the hall to take off my galoshes. They had a terrible noise and argument ... "I will not agree for anything! - said Grushnitsky, - he insulted me publicly; then it was completely different ..." - "What do you care?" answered the captain, "I take everything on myself. I was a second in five duels and I already know how to arrange it. I thought of everything. Please, just don’t bother me. It’s not bad to scare me. And why put yourself in danger if you can get rid of it? They fell silent. Our negotiations went on for quite some time; Finally, we settled the matter in the following way: five versts from here there is a deaf gorge; they will go there tomorrow at four o'clock in the morning, and we will leave half an hour after them; you will shoot at six paces - this was demanded by Grushnitsky. Killed - at the expense of the Circassians. Now here are my suspicions: they, that is, the seconds, must have somewhat changed their previous plan and want to load one Grushnitsky pistol with a bullet. It is a little like murder, but in wartime, and especially in the Asiatic war, tricks are allowed; only Grushnitsky seems to be more noble than his comrades. How do you think? Should we show them what we guessed?

Nothing in the world, doctor! rest easy, I won't give in to them.

What do you want to do?

This is my secret.

Look, don't get caught... after all, at six steps!

Doctor, I'll expect you tomorrow at four o'clock; the horses will be ready... Farewell.

I stayed at home until evening, shutting myself up in my room. The footman came to call me to the princess - I ordered to say that I was ill.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Two o'clock in the morning... I can't sleep... But I should fall asleep so that tomorrow my hand doesn't tremble. However, it is difficult to miss at six steps. A! Mr Grushnitsky! you will not succeed in your hoax ... we will switch roles: now I will have to look for signs of secret fear on your pale face. Why did you yourself appoint these fatal six steps? You think that I will turn my forehead to you without argument ... but we will cast lots! ... and then ... then ... what if his happiness outweighs? if my star finally betrays me? .. And no wonder: for so long she served faithfully to my whims; there is no more constancy in heaven than on earth.

Well? die so die! little loss to the world; And yes, I'm pretty bored too. I am like a man who yawns at a ball, who does not go to bed only because his carriage is not yet there. But the carriage is ready ... goodbye! ..

I run through my memory of all my past and involuntarily ask myself: why did I live? for what purpose was I born?.. But, it’s true, it existed, and it’s true, I had a high appointment, because I feel immense powers in my soul ... But I didn’t guess this purpose, I was carried away by the lures of empty and ungrateful passions ; from their furnace I came out hard and cold as iron, but I lost forever the ardor of noble aspirations - the best light of life. And since then, how many times have I played the role of an ax in the hands of fate! As an instrument of execution, I fell on the heads of doomed victims, often without malice, always without regret... My love brought happiness to no one, because I did not sacrifice anything for those I loved: I loved for myself, for my own only satisfied the strange need of the heart, greedily absorbing their feelings, their joys and sufferings - and could never get enough. Thus, exhausted by hunger, he falls asleep and sees sumptuous food and sparkling wine in front of him; he devours with delight the aerial gifts of the imagination, and it seems to him easier; but just woke up - the dream disappears ... there remains a double hunger and despair!

And perhaps tomorrow I will die!.. and not a single creature will remain on earth who would understand me completely. Some revere me worse, others better than I really ... Some will say: he was a kind fellow, others - a bastard. Both will be false. Is it worth living after this? and yet you live - out of curiosity: you expect something new ... Ridiculous and annoying!

It's been a month and a half since I've been in fortress N; Maksim Maksimych went hunting... I'm alone; I sit by the window; gray clouds covered the mountains to the soles; the sun looks like a yellow spot through the fog. Cold; the wind whistles and shakes the shutters... It's boring! I will continue my journal, interrupted by so many strange events.

I reread the last page: funny! I thought to die; it was impossible: I have not yet drained the cup of suffering, and now I feel that I still have a long time to live.

How clearly and sharply all that has passed has cast itself into my memory! Not a single feature, not a single shade has been erased by time!

I remember that during the night preceding the duel, I did not sleep for a minute. I could not write for a long time: a secret anxiety seized me. For an hour I paced the room; then I sat down and opened a novel by Walter Scott, which lay on my table: it was The Scottish Puritans, I read at first with effort, then I forgot, carried away by magical fiction ... Is it really that a Scottish bard in the next world is not paid for every gratifying minute that he gives His book?..

It finally dawned. My nerves calmed down. I looked in the mirror; a dull pallor covered my face, which kept traces of painful insomnia; but the eyes, although surrounded by a brown shadow, shone proudly and inexorably. I was pleased with myself.

Ordering the horses to be saddled, I dressed and ran to the bathhouse. Plunging into the cold boiling water of narzan, I felt how my bodily and spiritual strength returned. I came out of the bath fresh and alert, as if I were going to a ball. After that, say that the soul does not depend on the body! ..

When I returned, I found a doctor. He was wearing gray breeches, an archaluk and a Circassian cap. I burst out laughing when I saw this little figure under a huge shaggy hat: his face was not at all warlike, and this time it was even longer than usual.

Why are you so sad, doctor? I told him. “Didn’t you see people off to the other world a hundred times with the greatest indifference? Imagine that I have bilious fever; I can recover, I can die; both are in the order of things; try to look at me as if I were a patient possessed by a disease still unknown to you - and then your curiosity will be aroused to the highest degree; you can now make a few important physiological observations on me... Isn't the expectation of a violent death already a real illness?

This thought struck the doctor, and he cheered.

We mounted; Werner clung to the reins with both hands, and we set off - in an instant we galloped past the fortress through the settlement and drove into a gorge along which a road wound, half-overgrown with tall grass and every minute crossed by a noisy stream, through which it was necessary to wade, to the great despair of the doctor, because that his horse stopped every time in the water.

I don't remember a bluer and fresher morning! The sun barely emerged from behind the green peaks, and the merging of the warmth of its rays with the dying coolness of the night inspired a kind of sweet languor on all the senses; the joyful ray of the young day had not yet penetrated the gorge; he gilded only the tops of the cliffs hanging on both sides above us; thick-leaved bushes growing in their deep cracks showered us with silver rain at the slightest breath of wind. I remember - this time, more than ever before, I loved nature. How curious it is to peer at each dewdrop, fluttering on a wide grape leaf and reflecting millions of rainbow rays! how greedily my gaze tried to penetrate the smoky distance! There the path kept getting narrower, the cliffs bluer and more terrifying, and finally they seemed to meet like an impenetrable wall. We drove in silence.

Have you written your will? Werner suddenly asked.

What if you get killed?

The heirs will find themselves.

Don't you have friends to whom you would like to send your last farewell? ..

I shook my head.

Is there really no woman in the world to whom you would like to leave something as a memory? ..

Do you want, doctor, - I answered him, - that I open my soul to you? .. You see, I survived those years when people die, pronouncing the name of their beloved and bequeathing to a friend a piece of pomaded or unoiled hair. Thinking of imminent and possible death, I think only of myself: others don't even do that. Friends who tomorrow will forget me, or, worse, build God knows what fables at my expense; women who, embracing another, will laugh at me, so as not to arouse in him jealousy for the deceased - God bless them! From the storm of life, I took out only a few ideas - and not a single feeling. I have long been living not with my heart, but with my head. I weigh, analyze my own passions and actions with severe curiosity, but without participation. There are two people in me: one lives in the full sense of the word, the other thinks and judges him; the first, perhaps, in an hour will say goodbye to you and the world forever, and the second ... the second? Look, doctor: do you see three figures blackening on the rock to the right? These seem to be our opponents?..

We set off at a trot.

Three horses were tied in the bushes at the foot of the rock; we immediately tied our own, and ourselves climbed along a narrow path to the platform where Grushnitsky was waiting for us with a dragoon captain and another of his seconds, whose name was Ivan Ignatievich; I never heard his last name.

We have been waiting for you for a long time, - said the dragoon captain with an ironic smile.

I took out my watch and showed it to him.

He apologized, saying that his watch was running out.

There was an embarrassing silence for several minutes; at last the doctor interrupted him, turning to Grushnitsky.

It seems to me," he said, "that by showing both of you a readiness to fight, and having thereby paid your debt to the conditions of honor, you could, gentlemen, explain yourself and end this matter amicably.

I'm ready, I said.

The captain winked at Grushnitsky, and this one, thinking that I was afraid, took on a proud air, although until that moment a dull pallor had covered his cheeks. Since we arrived, he raised his eyes to me for the first time; but there was a kind of restlessness in his look, revealing an inner struggle.

Explain your conditions,” he said, “and all I can do for you, then be sure ...

Here are my conditions: today you will publicly renounce your slander and beg my pardon...

Dear sir, I wonder how you dare to suggest such things to me? ..

What can I offer you, besides this? ..

We will shoot...

I shrugged.

Perhaps; just think that one of us will surely be killed.

I wish it was you...

And I'm so sure otherwise...

He was embarrassed, blushed, then forced to laugh.

The captain took him by the arm and led him aside; they whispered for a long time. I arrived in a rather peaceful frame of mind, but all this was starting to piss me off.

The doctor came up to me.

Listen, - he said with obvious concern, - you must have forgotten about their plot? .. I don’t know how to load a pistol, but in this case ... You are a strange person! Tell them that you know their intention and they won't dare... What a hunt! shoot you like a bird...

Please don't worry, doctor, and wait... I'll arrange everything in such a way that there will be no advantage on their side. Let them whisper...

Gentlemen, this is getting boring! - I told them loudly, - fight like that; Did you have time to talk yesterday...

We are ready, - answered the captain. - Get up, gentlemen! .. Doctor, if you please, measure out six steps ...

Become! repeated Ivan Ignatich in a squeaky voice.

Allow me! - I said, - one more condition; since we will fight to the death, we must do everything possible to keep this a secret and so that our seconds are not held accountable. Do you agree?..

Absolutely agree.

So here's what I came up with. Do you see on the top of this sheer cliff, to the right, a narrow platform? from there to the bottom it will be thirty sazhens, if not more; sharp rocks below. Each of us will stand on the very edge of the platform; thus even a slight wound will be fatal: it must be in accordance with your desire, because you yourself have appointed the six steps. Whoever is wounded will certainly fly down and be smashed to smithereens; the doctor takes out the bullet. And then it will be very easy to explain this sudden death by an unsuccessful jump. We'll draw lots to see who shoots first. I declare to you in conclusion that otherwise I will not fight.

Perhaps! - said the dragoon captain, looking expressively at Grushnitsky, who nodded his head in agreement. His face changed every minute. I put him in a difficult position. Shooting under ordinary conditions, he could aim at my leg, easily wound me, and thus satisfy his revenge without too burdening his conscience; but now he had to shoot into the air, or become a murderer, or, finally, abandon his vile plan and be exposed to the same danger as me. At this moment I would not wish to be in his place. He took the captain aside and began to say something to him with great warmth; I saw his blue lips tremble; but the captain turned away from him with a contemptuous smile. "You're a fool!" he said to Grushnitsky rather loudly, "you don't understand anything! Let's go, gentlemen!"

A narrow path led through the bushes to a steep slope; fragments of rocks formed the shaky steps of this natural staircase; clinging to the bushes, we began to climb. Grushnitsky walked in front, followed by his seconds, and then the doctor and I.

I am surprised at you,” said the doctor, shaking my hand firmly. - Let me feel the pulse! .. Oh-hoo! feverish! .. but nothing is noticeable on your face ... only your eyes shine brighter than usual.

Suddenly small stones rolled with a noise under our feet. What is this? Grushnitsky stumbled, the branch he was clinging to broke, and he would have rolled down on his back if his seconds had not supported him.

Beware! - I shouted to him, - do not fall in advance; this is a bad omen. Remember Julius Caesar!

So we climbed to the top of a prominent rock: the platform was covered with fine sand, as if on purpose for a duel. All around, lost in the golden mist of the morning, the peaks of the mountains crowded together like an innumerable herd, and Elborus in the south rose in a white mass, closing the chain of icy peaks, between which filamentous clouds that had come from the east were already wandering. I went to the edge of the platform and looked down, my head was almost spinning, it seemed dark and cold down there, as in a coffin; mossy crevices of rocks, thrown down by storm and time, were waiting for their prey.

The platform on which we were supposed to fight depicted an almost regular triangle. Six steps were measured from the protruding corner and it was decided that the one who had to meet the enemy fire first would stand at the very corner, with his back to the abyss; if he is not killed, then the opponents will switch places.

I decided to give all the benefits to Grushnitsky; I wanted to experience it; a spark of generosity could awaken in his soul, and then everything would work out for the better; but self-love and weakness of character should have triumphed ... I wanted to give myself the full right not to spare him, if fate had mercy on me. Who has not made such conditions with his conscience?

Cast lots, doctor! - said the captain.

The doctor took a silver coin out of his pocket and held it up.

Lattice! shouted Grushnitsky hurriedly, like a man suddenly awakened by a friendly jolt.

Eagle! - I said.

The coin rose and fell ringing; everyone rushed to her.

You are happy, - I said to Grushnitsky, - you shoot first! But remember that if you do not kill me, then I will not miss - I give you my word of honor.

He blushed; he was ashamed to kill an unarmed man; I looked at him intently; for a minute it seemed to me that he would throw himself at my feet, begging for forgiveness; but how can one confess to such a vile intent? .. He had only one means left - to shoot into the air; I was sure that he would shoot into the air! One thing could prevent this: the thought that I would demand a second duel.

It's time! the doctor whispered to me, tugging at my sleeve, “if you don’t say now that we know their intentions, then everything is lost. Look, he’s already charging ... if you don’t say anything, then I myself ...

Nothing in the world, Doctor! - I answered, holding his hand, - you will spoil everything; you gave me your word not to interfere ... What do you care? Maybe I want to be killed...

He looked at me in surprise.

Oh, that's different!.. just don't complain about me in the next world...

Meanwhile the captain loaded his pistols, handed one to Grushnitsky, whispering something to him with a smile; another to me.

I stood on the corner of the platform, firmly planting my left foot on the stone and leaning forward a little, so that in case of a slight injury I would not tip back.

Grushnitsky stood in front of me and, at the given signal, began to raise his pistol. His knees were trembling. He aimed right at my forehead...

An inexplicable fury boiled in my chest.

Suddenly he lowered the muzzle of his pistol and, turning white as a sheet, turned to his second.

Coward! replied the captain.

The shot rang out. The bullet grazed my knee. I involuntarily took a few steps forward in order to quickly move away from the edge.

Well, brother Grushnitsky, it's a pity that I missed! - said the captain, - now it's your turn, stand up! Hug me first: we won't see each other again! - They embraced; the captain could hardly help laughing. "Don't be afraid," he added, glancing slyly at Grushnitsky, "everything is nonsense in the world!... Nature is a fool, fate is a turkey, and life is a penny!"

After this tragic phrase, spoken with decent gravity, he retired to his seat; Ivan Ignatich also embraced Grushnitsky with tears, and now he was left alone against me. I still try to explain to myself what kind of feeling then boiled in my chest: it was the annoyance of offended pride, and contempt, and the anger that was born at the thought that this man, now with such confidence, with such calm impudence, was looking at me , two minutes ago, without exposing himself to any danger, wanted to kill me like a dog, for if I had been wounded in the leg a little more, I would certainly have fallen off the cliff.

For several minutes I gazed into his face intently, trying to detect at least a slight trace of remorse. But I thought he was holding back a smile.

I advise you to pray to God before you die,” I told him then.

Don't care about my soul more than your own. I ask you one thing: shoot quickly.

And you do not retract your slander? do not ask me for forgiveness?.. Think carefully: does not your conscience tell you anything?

Mr Pechorin! - shouted the captain of the dragoons, - you are not here to confess, let me tell you ... Finish quickly; unequally someone will pass through the gorge - and they will see us.

Okay, doctor, come to me.

The doctor came up. Poor doctor! he was paler than Grushnitsky ten minutes ago.

I uttered the following words on purpose, with an arrangement, loud and clear, as a death sentence is pronounced:

Doctor, these gentlemen, probably in a hurry, forgot to put a bullet in my pistol: I ask you to load it again - and well!

Can't be! - shouted the captain, - it can't be! I loaded both pistols; except that a bullet rolled out of yours ... it's not my fault! - And you have no right to reload ... no right ... it is completely against the rules; I will not let...

Fine! - I said to the captain, - if so, then we will shoot with you on the same conditions ... He hesitated.

Grushnitsky stood with his head on his chest, embarrassed and gloomy.

Leave them! - he said at last to the captain, who wanted to wrest my pistol from the hands of the doctor ... - After all, you yourself know that they are right.

In vain did the captain make all sorts of signs to him - Grushnitsky did not even want to look.

Meanwhile the doctor had loaded the pistol and handed it to me. Seeing this, the captain spat and stamped his foot.

You are a fool, brother, - he said, - a vulgar fool! .. You already relied on me, so obey in everything ... Serve you right! prick yourself like a fly ... - He turned away and, moving away, muttered: - Still, this is completely against the rules.

Grushnitsky! - I said, - there is still time; give up your slander, and I will forgive you everything. You failed to fool me, and my vanity is satisfied; Remember, we used to be friends...

His face flushed, his eyes sparkled.

Shoot! - he answered, - I despise myself, but I hate you. If you don't kill me, I'll stab you around the corner at night. There is no place for us on earth...

I shot...

When the smoke cleared, Grushnitsky was not on the site. Only the ashes still curled on the edge of the cliff in a light column.

Finita la comedia! 15 - I said to the doctor.

He did not answer and turned away in horror.

I shrugged my shoulders and bowed to Grushnitsky's seconds.

Going down the path, I noticed Grushnitsky's bloodied corpse between the clefts of the rocks. I involuntarily closed my eyes... Untying the horse, I set off at a walk home. I had a stone in my heart. The sun seemed dim to me, its rays did not warm me.

Before reaching the settlement, I turned right along the gorge. The sight of a man would have been painful for me: I wanted to be alone. Throwing the reins and lowering my head on my chest, I rode for a long time, finally finding myself in a place that was not at all familiar to me; I turned my horse back and began to look for the way; the sun was already setting when I rode up to Kislovodsk, exhausted, on an exhausted horse.

My footman told me that Werner had come in and handed me two notes: one from him, the other ... from Vera.

I printed the first one, it was as follows:

“Everything is arranged as best as possible: the body was brought disfigured, the bullet was taken out of the chest. Everyone is sure that the cause of his death was an accident; only the commandant, who probably knows your quarrel, shook his head, but said nothing. There is no evidence against you , and you can sleep peacefully... if you can... Farewell..."

For a long time I did not dare to open the second note... What could she write to me?... A heavy foreboding agitated my soul.

Here it is, this letter, every word of which is indelibly engraved in my memory:

“I am writing to you in full confidence that we will never see each other again. Several years ago, parting with you, I thought the same thing; but heaven was pleased to test me a second time; I could not bear this test, my weak heart submitted again familiar voice ... you will not despise me for this, will you? This letter will be both a farewell and a confession: I must tell you everything that has accumulated in my heart since it loves you. "You acted with me as any other man would have done: you loved me as a property, as a source of joys, anxieties and sorrows, changing mutually, without which life is boring and monotonous. I understood this at first ... But you were unhappy, and I sacrificed myself, hoping that someday you will appreciate my sacrifice, that someday you will understand my deep tenderness, not dependent on any conditions.A lot of time has passed since then: I penetrated into all the secrets of your soul ... and convinced that it was a vain hope. I was bitter! But my love has grown together with my soul: it has darkened, but has not died out.

We part forever; however, you can be sure that I will never love another: my soul has exhausted all its treasures, its tears and hopes on you. She who once loved you cannot look without some contempt at other men, not because you are better than them, oh no! but in your nature there is something special, peculiar to you alone, something proud and mysterious; in your voice, no matter what you say, there is an invincible power; no one knows how to constantly want to be loved; in no one is evil so attractive, no one's gaze promises so much bliss, no one knows how to use his advantages better, and no one can be so truly unhappy as you, because no one tries so hard to convince himself otherwise.

Now I must explain to you the reason for my hasty departure; it will seem unimportant to you, because it concerns only me.

This morning my husband came in and told me about your quarrel with Grushnitsky. It can be seen that my face has changed a lot, because he looked long and intently into my eyes; I almost fainted at the thought that you must fight today and that I was the reason for this; it seemed to me that I would go crazy ... but now that I can reason, I am sure that you will remain alive: it is impossible that you should die without me, impossible! My husband paced the room for a long time; I don’t know what he told me, I don’t remember what I answered him ... it’s true, I told him that I love you ... I only remember that at the end of our conversation he insulted me with a terrible word and left. I heard how he ordered the carriage to be laid... For three hours now I have been sitting by the window and waiting for your return... But you are alive, you cannot die!.. The carriage is almost ready... Goodbye, goodbye.. I'm dead - but what is the need? .. If I could be sure that you will always remember me - I don't say love - no, just remember ... Farewell; coming... I have to hide the letter...

Isn't it true you don't love Mary? won't you marry her? Listen, you must make this sacrifice for me: I have lost everything in the world for you ... "

Like a madman, I jumped out onto the porch, jumped on my Circassian, who was led around the yard, and set off at full speed on the road to Pyatigorsk. I mercilessly drove the exhausted horse, which, wheezing and covered in foam, raced me along the rocky road.

The sun was already hidden in a black cloud resting on the crest of the western mountains; the valley became dark and damp. Podkumok, making his way over the stones, roared muffled and monotonous. I jumped, panting with impatience. The thought of not finding her in Pyatigorsk hit my heart like a hammer! - one minute, one more minute to see her, to say goodbye, to shake her hand ... I prayed, cursed, cried, laughed ... no, nothing will express my anxiety, despair! .. With the opportunity to lose her forever, Vera became dearer to me everything in the world is dearer than life, honor, happiness! God knows what strange, what frenzied ideas were swarming in my head ... And meanwhile I kept galloping, chasing me mercilessly. And so I began to notice that my horse was breathing more heavily; he had already stumbled twice out of the blue... There were five versts left to Essentuki, a Cossack village where I could change horses.

Everything would have been saved if my horse had had enough strength for another ten minutes! But suddenly, rising from a small ravine, at the exit from the mountains, at a sharp turn, he slammed into the ground. I quickly jumped off, I want to pick him up, I pull on the reins - in vain: a barely audible groan escaped through his clenched teeth; after a few minutes he died; I was left alone in the steppe, having lost my last hope; I tried to walk - my legs buckled; exhausted by the anxieties of the day and insomnia, I fell on the wet grass and wept like a child.

And for a long time I lay motionless and wept bitterly, not trying to hold back my tears and sobs; I thought my chest would burst; all my hardness, all my composure - vanished like smoke. The soul was exhausted, the mind fell silent, and if at that moment someone saw me, he would have turned away with contempt.

When the night dew and the mountain wind refreshed my hot head and my thoughts returned to their usual order, I realized that it was useless and reckless to pursue lost happiness. What else do I need? - to see her? - For what? isn't it all over between us? One bitter farewell kiss will not enrich my memories, and after it it will only be more difficult for us to part.

I am, however, pleased that I can cry! However, perhaps this is caused by upset nerves, a night spent without sleep, two minutes against the muzzle of a gun and an empty stomach.

All goes to good! this new suffering, in a military style, made a happy diversion in me. It's great to cry; and then, probably, if I had not ridden on horseback and had not been forced to walk fifteen versts on the way back, then that night sleep would not have closed my eyes.

I returned to Kislovodsk at five o'clock in the morning, flung myself on my bed, and fell asleep after the Waterloo sleep of Napoleon.

When I woke up, it was already dark outside. I sat down at the open window, unbuttoned my jacket, and the mountain wind refreshed my chest, not yet calmed by the heavy sleep of fatigue. Away beyond the river, through the tops of the dense linden trees that overshadow it, fire flickered in the buildings of the fortress and suburb. Everything was quiet in our yard, it was dark in the princess's house.

The doctor went up: his forehead was furrowed; and he, contrary to his custom, did not extend his hand to me.

Where are you from, doctor?

From Princess Ligovskaya; her daughter is ill - the relaxation of the nerves ... Yes, that's not the point, but this: the authorities guess, and although nothing can be positively proven, however, I advise you to be more careful. The princess told me today that she knows that you were shooting for her daughter. This old man told her everything ... what do you mean by him? He witnessed your skirmish with Grushnitsky in the restaurant. I came to warn you. Farewell. Maybe we won't see each other again, they'll send you somewhere.

He stopped on the threshold: he wanted to shake my hand ... and if I showed him the slightest desire for this, he would throw himself on my neck; but I remained as cold as a stone - and he went out.

Here are the people! all of them are like this: they know in advance all the bad sides of an act, they help, advise, even approve it, seeing the impossibility of another means - and then they wash their hands and turn away indignantly from the one who had the courage to take on all the burden of responsibility. All of them are like that, even the kindest, most intelligent! ..

The next day in the morning, having received an order from the higher authorities to go to the fortress of N., I went to the princess to say goodbye.

She was surprised when, when asked by her: Do I have anything particularly important to say to her? - I answered that I wish her to be happy and so on.

And I need to talk to you very seriously.

I sat down silently.

It was obvious that she didn't know where to start; her face turned purple, her plump fingers tapped on the table; at last she began thus, in a broken voice:

Listen, Monsieur Pechorin! I think you are a noble person.

I bowed.

I am even sure of it,” she continued, “although your behavior is somewhat doubtful; but you may have reasons that I do not know, and it is them that you must now believe me. You protected my daughter from slander, you shot for her, and consequently you risked your life... Don't answer, I know you won't admit it, because Grushnitsky was killed (she crossed herself). God will forgive him - and, I hope, you too! .. This does not concern me, I do not dare to condemn you, because my daughter, although innocently, was the reason for this. She told me everything ... I think everything: you declared your love for her ... she confessed hers to you (here the princess sighed heavily). But she is sick, and I am sure that this is not a simple illness! Secret sadness kills her; she does not admit it, but I am sure that you are the reason for this ... Listen: you may think that I am looking for ranks, huge wealth - disbelieve! I only want my daughter's happiness. Your present position is unenviable, but it can improve: you have a fortune; my daughter loves you, she has been brought up in such a way that will make her husband's happiness - I am rich, I have one ... Tell me what is holding you back? .. You see, I should not have told you all this, but I rely on your heart, on your honor; remember, I have one daughter... one...

She started crying.

Princess, - I said, - it is impossible for me to answer you; let me talk to your daughter alone...

Never! she exclaimed, rising from her chair in great agitation.

As you wish,” I answered, preparing to leave.

She became thoughtful, made me a sign with her hand that I should wait, and went out.

Five minutes passed; my heart was beating strongly, but my thoughts were calm, my head was cold; no matter how I searched in my chest for at least a spark of love for dear Mary, but my efforts were in vain.

Here the doors opened, and she entered, God! how she has changed since I did not see her - and how long ago?

When she reached the middle of the room, she staggered; I jumped up, gave her my hand and led her to an armchair.

I stood up to her. We were silent for a long time; her large eyes, full of inexplicable sadness, seemed to be searching in mine for something resembling hope; her pale lips tried in vain to smile; her tender hands, folded on her knees, were so thin and transparent that I felt sorry for her.

Princess, - I said, - do you know that I laughed at you? .. You must despise me.

A painful blush appeared on her cheeks.

I continued: “Consequently, you cannot love me ...

She turned away, leaned her elbows on the table, covered her eyes with her hand, and it seemed to me that tears glistened in them.

My God! she said barely intelligibly.

It became unbearable: another minute, and I would have fallen at her feet.

So you see for yourself,” I said in as firm a voice as I could and with a forced smile, “you see for yourself that I cannot marry you, even if you wanted to now, you would soon repent. My conversation with your mother forced me to explain myself to you so frankly and so rudely; I hope she is in error: it is easy for you to dissuade her. You see, I play the most pitiful and vile role in your eyes, and I even admit it; that's all I can do for you. Whatever bad opinion you may have about me, I submit to it ... You see, I am low before you. Isn't it true that even if you loved me, you despise me from this moment on?

She turned to me pale as marble, only her eyes sparkled wonderfully.

I hate you... - she said.

I thanked him, bowed respectfully, and left.

An hour later, a courier troika sped me from Kislovodsk. A few miles before Essentuki, I recognized the corpse of my dashing horse near the road; the saddle was removed - probably by a passing Cossack - and instead of a saddle, two ravens sat on his back. I sighed and turned away...

And now, here, in this boring fortress, I often run through the past in my thoughts. I ask myself: why did I not want to set foot on this path, opened to me by fate, where quiet joys and peace of mind awaited me? .. No, I would not get along with this fate! I, like a sailor, born and raised on the deck of a robber brig: his soul has become accustomed to storms and battles, and, thrown ashore, he is bored and languishing, no matter how beckoning his shady grove, no matter how the peaceful sun shines on him; he walks all day long on the coastal sand, listens to the monotonous murmur of the oncoming waves and peers into the misty distance: will there not flicker on the pale line separating the blue abyss from the gray clouds, the desired sail, at first similar to the wing of a sea gull, but little by little separated from the foam of boulders and evenly approaching the deserted pier...

1 gray-pearl color (French).

2 reddish brown (French).

3 in a peasant way (French).

4 My dear, I hate people so as not to despise them, because otherwise life would be too disgusting farce (French).

5 My dear, I despise women so as not to love them, because otherwise life would be too ridiculous a melodrama (French).

6 for a picnic (French).

7 My God, Circassian!.. (French)

8 Do not be afraid, ma'am - I am no more dangerous than your gentleman (French).

9 It's funny! .. (French)

10 Thank you, sir (French).

11 Let me... (from French pemetter.)

12 for a mazurka ... (French).

13 Charming! lovely! (French)

14 hand and heart (French).

15 Comedy is over! (Italian)

The story "Princess Mary" follows "Taman", it tells about the events of Pechorin's forty-day stay at the healing waters in Pyatigorsk and Kislovodsk. Interestingly, if the main events in "Taman" took place at night, then the story "Princess Mary" begins at five in the morning (by the way, at five in the morning the hero returns home and at the end of the story, without catching up with his beloved - Vera). Thus, the beginning of the story “Princess Mary” is connected with the morning and the hope for renewal, which Pechorin expects to find in love and friendship, the end with disappointment and losses, in which, according to Lermontov, not only the hero himself is guilty, but also mistakes, common to all people.

There are five main characters in the work: Pechorin, Grushnitsky and Dr. Werner, Princess Mary and Vera. The relationship between them is distributed as follows: Pechorin has developed a trusting relationship with two heroes, these are “confidants” - Vera and Dr. Werner (it is they who leave Pechorin at the end of the story), the other two act as opponents of the hero, “opponents” - Princess Mary, love which Pechorin seeks, and Grushnitsky, who competes with him and is capable of killing (in the final, Pechorin leaves Princess Mary and kills Grushnitsky in a duel). Thus, the plot of the story forms a love conflict as rivalry (Pechorin - Princess), subordination (Pechorin - Vera), hostility-friendship conflict as hatred (Pechorin - Grushnitsky) and compliance (Pechorin - Dr. Werner).

The central intrigue of the story "Princess Mary" is Pechorin's desire to seduce Princess Mary, to fall in love with her. Pechorin's behavior towards the girl is traditionally considered selfish and immoral, and the attitude towards Vera is the use of her love for him. At the usual, everyday and partly psychological level of approach to the plot, this point of view is justified. However, since Lermontov, through this plot, solves not only questions of everyday morality, but also deep problems associated with understanding the essence of love, then when comprehending the story, one should not blame the hero or justify him, but try to understand exactly what problems the author raises and what idea he seeks to express. . So, in Pechorin’s entry of June 3, we read: “Vera loves me more than Princess Mary will ever love,” and this remark of the hero speaks of his doubts about true love.

Attention is drawn to the similarity of the last phrases of Grushnitsky and Princess Mary, addressed to Pechorin. Grushnitsky says: “I despise myself, but I hate you,” and Princess Mary: “I hate you.” One gets the impression that the purpose of Pechorin's intrigue in relation to the former cadet and the young princess was to hear words of hatred. The ending of the story, of course, is connected with the phrases uttered by Grushnitsky and Pechorin at its beginning. Grushnitsky, assuming a pictorial pose, speaks loudly in French so that the princess can hear him: “My dear, I hate people in order not to despise them, otherwise life would be too disgusting farce”; Pechorin answers him also in French with a similar phrase: "My dear, I despise women so as not to love them, because otherwise life would be too ridiculous a melodrama." From these statements it follows that the main feelings that denote relationships between people in the story are contempt, hatred, love.

Lermontov's story "Princess Mary" is written according to the laws of drama, as if it were intended to be staged. The diary entries that the hero keeps are reminiscent of theatrical phenomena, the natural landscape is a theater, the key scenes of action (a well, Pechorin's apartment, mountains) are scenery. The genres of the performances are also named: comedy, farce, melodrama. The text of the story is made in two literary forms: diary and memoirs. The diary entries cover all the days of the story, and only the last three days are given in the form of memoirs, presenting the events as the tragedy of Pechorin's life: he loses everything he hoped for - love and friendship.

After some time, Pechorin arrived in Pyatigorsk and rented an apartment on the edge of the city, at the foot of Mashuk. In the morning he went to the healing spring, where the whole local society gathered. On the site near the well, a house was built with a red roof over the bath, and further away was a gallery where people walk when it rains. Several officers were sitting on a bench, ladies were walking along the gallery. Pechorin stopped to rest, and then an old acquaintance, Grushnitsky, who had been wounded in the leg and arrived at the waters a week earlier, called him.

Grushnitsky is a cadet. but out of some kind of foppishness, he wears a thick soldier's overcoat, with a St. George soldier's cross. He is no more than twenty-one years old, although he tries to look more mature. He constantly twists his mustache with his left hand, because in his right he has a crutch.

Grushnitsky is one of those people who have pompous phrases ready for all occasions; his goal is to become the hero of the novel. He does not like Pechorin, although outwardly they are on friendly terms. Grigory Alexandrovich replies in kind, having a presentiment that one day he will run into him on a narrow path and one of them will be unhappy.

Grushnitsky began to tell Pechorin about the people who had come to the waters, in particular, about the Moscow princess Ligovskaya and her daughter Mary, with whom he was unfamiliar, the fault of which was his soldier's overcoat. At this time, two ladies passed by them to the well: one is elderly, the other is young. They were dressed with great taste. Pechorin liked the young one very much for her grace. Grushnitsky said that these were the Ligovskys, and after that he began to speak deliberately loudly so that the princess would pay attention to him, and achieved his goal: she looked at him with a long, curious look. Pechorin noticed that the girl had very beautiful eyes. Then he and Grushnitsky broke up.

Grigory Alexandrovich took a short walk along the vine alleys, but it became hot, and he went home. passing by a sulfuric source, the officer saw that Grushnitsky had deliberately dropped his glass and was unsuccessfully trying to pick it up, showing with his unfortunate appearance how his wounded leg hindered him. Princess Mary ran up to the cadet and handed him a glass, blushing terribly at the same time. When Grushnitsky wanted to thank her, the girl was already far away. Passing through some time with her mother past the wounded man, she assumed a dignified and important air.

Noticing Pechorin, the cadet drew his attention to the girl's act, but Grigory Alexandrovich declared that there was nothing special about him: he wanted to annoy the veil. The friends descended into the city together and proceeded past the Ligovskys' house, one of the best houses in Pyatigorsk, where they saw the princess sitting by the window. She smiled benevolently at the cadet and looked indignantly at Pechorin, who was examining her through a lorgnette.

Two days later, Dr. Werner came to Grigory Alexandrovich. He was a man whose appearance at first glance is unpleasantly striking, but then you completely forget about it thanks to his mind. He and Pechorin were friends, they understood each other perfectly and always found something to talk about. Pechorin asked Werner to tell him the local news and heard that the princess thought that Grushnitsky had been demoted to a soldier because of the duel, and the princess was surprised why Grigory Alexandrovich did not come to visit them, and told everyone about his adventures in St. Petersburg, while Mary was listening these secular gossip with great attention. The doctor also mentioned that a young lady, a relative of the princess by husband, had come to town, very pretty and very sick. She has a mole on her cheek. This news was of great interest to Pechorin: according to the description, he recognized his longtime lover, whom he broke up with several years ago.

After dinner, Grigory Alexandrovich went to the boulevard. A small circle of young people gathered around the Ligovskys. Pechorin sat down on a bench, stopped two officers he knew and began to tell them funny stories and anecdotes. Little by little, all the men who surrounded the princess left her and went over to Grigory Alexandrovich, which annoyed Mary, although she tried her best to appear indifferent. Grushnitsky followed the princess with a predatory look, and Pechorin was sure that tomorrow he would ask someone to introduce him to Ligovsky.

Grigory Alexandrovich did his best to tease the princess's curiosity. He did not want to be introduced to her, but he tried to distract all her admirers from her. When the girl wanted to buy a Persian carpet, he overpaid forty rubles and bought it himself, and in the evening led his horse covered with this carpet past Mary's windows, which infuriated the princess. Grushnitsky found an opportunity to get to know the Ligovskys and now spent a lot of time with them. Pechorin told his friend that the princess was probably already in love with him. He blushed and pouted, although it was clear that this observation pleased him.

Once Grigory Alexandrovich got up late and came to the source when no one was there. He was thinking about Vera - a woman with a mole on her cheek - and suddenly he saw her in the cool shade of the grotto. They both immediately felt that they still love each other just the same. Vera said that she had married a second time, that her husband was old, rich and suffering from rheumatism, and that she respected him as a father. It turned out that the husband is a distant relative of the princess and Vera often visits them, so Pechorin gave his word to get acquainted with the Ligovskys and drag after Mary in order to divert attention from his connection with Vera. Returning home, Pechorin mounted a horse and galloped off to the steppe to unwind: his old lover really looked very sick. It was already six o'clock when he remembered that it was time for dinner. Returning, Grigory Alexandrovich saw a cavalcade of horsemen, led by Grushnitsky with Princess Mary. Late in the evening, having met a cadet returning from the Ligovskys, Pechorin announced that, if he wanted, he would be with the princess tomorrow and even intended to court the princess, he would just wait. until she gets bored with Grushnitsky.

About a week passed, and Grigory Alexandrovich still had not made the acquaintance of the Ligovskys. Once, at the source, he met Vera, who reproached him for not visiting the princess's house, and the next evening Pechorin decided to go to a ball in a restaurant. At the ball, he invited Mary to waltz and got real pleasure: she danced superbly. After the dance, they began to talk, and the girl made it clear that the doors of her house were closed to Pechorin. Then a heavily drunken gentleman, accompanied by a dragoon officer, approached the princess and invited the girl to a mazurka. Mary was confused: her mother was far away, there were no familiar gentlemen nearby, and there was no one to stand up for the girl. But Grigory Alexandrovich firmly took the drunken gentleman by the hand and said weightily that the princess had hung up to dance the mazurka with him.

The gentleman left, and Mary, thanking Pechorin, told everything to her mother. The princess immediately invited the officer to visit them. During the mazurka, Mary and Grigory Alexandrovich started talking about Grushnitsky. The princess took pity on him, and Pechorin, as if by the way, mentioned that his friend was a cadet. The girl was somewhat disappointed by the lack of a romantic story of demotion for the duel. The next evening, walking along the boulevard, Grigory Alexandrovich met Grushnitsky. who thanked him for helping the princess at the ball and confessed that he loved her. Together they went to the princess.

A little later, Vera entered the living room. Ligovskaya introduced Pechorin to her, and he was very kind all evening and entertained the guests. While the princess was singing, Vera warned her lover that she did not want him to meet her husband. When Mary asked if the officer liked her singing, he boldly replied that he liked music only after dinner, because he slept well under it, and spent the rest of the evening with Vera, having talked enough about the past with her. From that day on, Pechorin began to see the princess often and told her a lot about himself, as if on purpose trying to show himself from the worst side, so the girl became seriously interested in him.

Once Grushnitsky came to a friend with good news: he was promoted to officer. The former cadet decided not to see the princess until the new uniform, on which he had high hopes, was ready. In the evening, Pechorin again talked for a long time with Mary, showing off his disappointment in life, and achieved that the girl clearly began to reproach herself for being cold towards him. Meanwhile, Vera tormented him with her jealousy and demanded that Grigory Alexandrovich prove his love by following her to Kislovodsk, where she and her husband are going the day after tomorrow. They will live in the same house with the princess, but she will arrive later, and there is an empty apartment nearby, owned by the same owner. Pechorin promised and immediately rented this apartment.

The next day the ball was to be held, and Grushnitsky, who came to Grigory Alexandrovich, joyfully announced that the uniform was ready and he was going to invite the princess to the mazurka. In the evening, Pechorin met with Mary and invited her to the mazurka himself. The next day, entering the hall, Grigory Alexandrovich immediately saw Grushnitsky with the princess. The girl, obviously bored, listened to her interlocutor in a new uniform with incredible epaulettes. All evening, the former Juncker tried not to leave the princess, and she was clearly burdened by his attention. The fact that the mazurka turned out to be given to Pechorin extremely infuriated Grushnitsky, and at dinner he whispered something to the dragoon officer for a long time.

In the morning Vera left for Kislovodsk. Grigory Alexandrovich went to see the princess, but Mary did not come out, saying she was sick, and he suddenly realized that he was missing something. Has he fallen in love? The next day they managed to meet alone. The girl was very excited and tried to call him to frankness, but Grigory Alexandrovich answered very coldly. And later, rumors spread around the city that Pechorin would marry Princess Mary. The officer guessed that Grushnitsky was spreading these rumors.

A few days later, Pechorin followed Vera to Kislovodsk and met with her every day at the source. Soon Grushnitsky appeared in the city, pretending not to notice his former friend. Finally, the Ligovskys arrived. The princess did not leave her daughter, and Vera was mercilessly jealous of Pechorin for the princess.

Once, returning from a horseback ride, Grigory Alexandrovich found himself alone with Mary. They were crossing a fast river, and suddenly the girl became ill. Pechorin hugged her to help, and then kissed her on the cheek. Mary confessed her love to him, forcing him to make a reciprocal confession, but she heard an indifferent answer in response - “why?”. The princess whipped the horse with a whip and galloped away. Grigory Alexandrovich went to the mountains, spent time there until nightfall, and returning, he noticed a light in one of the houses and looked out the window. There was a military party going on. He saw Grushnitsky with a dragoon captain talking about him. The dragoon outlined his plan: Grushnitsky challenged Pechorin to a duel on the condition that he shoot from six steps. The trick is that the captain will not put bullets in pistols, but the enemy will not know this and will be afraid, and they will enjoy this spectacle. To the delight of all those present, Grushnitsky agreed.

The next morning, the princess demanded that Pechorin directly say whether he loved her, and Grigory Alexandrovich replied that he did not. He understood that he had acted dishonorably towards the girl, but the very thought of marriage inspired him with disgust: above all, he valued freedom.

A couple of days later, a magician arrived in Kislovodsk, and the whole society gathered for a concert. Vera sent a note to Pechorin that her husband had left, and she was buying tickets for all the servants and would be waiting for her lover in the evening at her place. The princess also went to the concert, and only Vera and Mary remained in the house. In the evening, Grigory Alexandrovich looked into the hall, made sure that the princess and servants were there, and went to Vera. On the way, he thought that someone was following him. At about two o'clock in the morning he left Vera through the window and could not resist looking into
the window of the princess, in which the light burned. Mary sat on her bed and was very sad.

He jumped off the balcony and was overtaken by the dragoon captain and Grushnitsky. Pechorin hit the captain on the head with his fist, knocked him down and rushed to his room, where he quickly undressed and lay down. Soon there was a knock on the door. Grigory Alexandrovich replied that he was sleeping.

The next day, he happened to be a witness to a conversation that decided the fate of Grushnitsky. The latter said that he had witnessed Pechorin descending from the balcony of Princess Mary at night. Suddenly, the former cadet raised his eyes and saw Grigory Alexandrovich, who accused him of slander. Grushnitsky did not agree to give up his words and received a challenge to a duel. Dragyn announced that he would be his second.

After that, Pechorin went to Werner, told about his relationship with Vera, about the events of the night and about the conspiracy overheard earlier, and asked to become his second. The doctor went to Grushnitsky to agree on the terms of the duel, and when he returned, he said that he accidentally heard a couple of phrases there, from which he realized that the plot had changed: Grushnitsko's pistol would be loaded. Werner tried to dissuade Grigory Alexandrovich from the duel, but he was adamant.

At two o'clock in the morning Pechorin was still awake, He was thinking about the life he had lived and was ready for any outcome of the duel. Early in the morning he took a Narzan bath, and returning from the bath, he had already found a doctor. They went on horseback to the place of the duel. We drove in silence for a long time, only Werner asked if Pechorin had written a will, and the officer replied that it was completely superfluous. opponents were already waiting for them. The doctor suggested that the duelists explain themselves and do without a duel.

Pechorin declared that he was ready, Grushnitsky also agreed, but after learning that Grigory Alexandrovich demanded a public apology and the Renunciation of slander, he decided to shoot himself. Pechorin proposed to hold a duel on a narrow platform over the abyss, so that the killed or wounded opponent would fall into the abyss, and after that the doctor would take the bullet out of the body, and death could be explained by an accident. They cast lots. Grushnitsky was the first to shoot. He faced a difficult choice, because he understood that he was aiming at an unarmed man, and the conditions of the duel were deadly. He began to aim and suddenly lowered the muzzle of his pistol, saying "I can't," but the dragoon called him a coward, and Grushnitsky fired. The bullet scratched Pechorin red-hot. Afterwards, Grushnitsky embraced with the captain, and the former took his place on the edge of the square.

Here Grigory Alexandrovich finished with Fars, saying that the enemy's second probably forgot to put a bullet in his pistol, and asked him to reload. The confused dragoon did not agree, arguing that it was against the rules, then Pechorin offered him to fight tomorrow on the same conditions. Grushnitsky stood embarrassed and gloomy. The doctor loaded the gun. Grigory Alexandrovich once again offered his former friend to refuse slander and apologize, but he refused. Pechorin fired. When the smoke cleared, Grushnitsky was not on the site.

Grigory Alexandrovich went home with a stone in his heart. Before reaching the settlement, he turned his horse around and wandered all day in the mountains, he returned to the apartment when the sun was already shining. At home, the footman handed him two notes. The first was from Werner. He reported that the bullet had been taken out of the corpse and there was no evidence against Pechorin. In the second note, Vera wrote that she confessed everything to her husband, he ordered the horses to be pledged and now they are leaving. She spoke of the bitterness of her love and said goodbye forever. Grigory Alexandrovich, like a madman, jumped on his horse and set off at full speed on the road to Pyatigorsk. He mercilessly drove the horse until it fell dead. The legs did not obey Pechorin. He fell on the grass and wept bitterly for a long time. On foot, returning to Kislovodsk early in the morning, Grigory Alexandrovich lay down in bed and fell into a dead sleep. He slept until evening, when Werner appeared with the news that they had learned about the duel.