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Updated: May 7, 2025
I say "envy" boldly, because I am accustomed to acknowledge everything to myself. In silence Grushnitski and I descended the mountain and walked along the boulevard, past the windows of the house where our beauty had hidden herself. She was sitting by the window. Grushnitski, plucking me by the arm, cast upon her one of those gloomily tender glances which have so little effect upon women.
"Yes, I assure you that he is a coward of the first water, I mean Pechorin, not Grushnitski but Grushnitski is a fine fellow, and, besides, he is my true friend!" the captain of dragoons went on. "Gentlemen! Nobody here stands up for him? Nobody? So much the better! Would you like to put his courage to the test? It would be amusing"... "We would; but how?"
The night was dark and nobody could see. I returned to the saloon very well satisfied with myself. The young men, Grushnitski amongst them, were having supper at the large table. As I came in, they all fell silent: evidently they had been talking about me.
He had been wounded in the foot by a bullet and had come to the waters a week or so before me. Grushnitski is a cadet; he has only been a year in the service. From a kind of foppery peculiar to himself, he wears the thick cloak of a common soldier. He has also the soldier's cross of St. George. He is well built, swarthy and black-haired.
Every day Grushnitski and his gang are to be found brawling in the inn, and he has almost ceased to greet me. He only arrived yesterday, and has already succeeded in quarrelling with three old men who were going to take their places in the baths before him. Decidedly, his misfortunes are developing a warlike spirit within him. AT last they have arrived.
I sat down upon a bench and fell into a reverie... I felt the necessity of pouring forth my thoughts in friendly conversation... But with whom?... "What is Vera doing now?" I wondered. I would have given much to press her hand at that moment. All at once I heard rapid and irregular steps... Grushnitski, no doubt!... So it was! "Where have you come from?"
When I am present, she does not dare to embark upon sentimental discussions with Grushnitski, and already, on a few occasions, she has answered his sallies with a mocking smile. But every time that Grushnitski comes up to her I assume an air of meekness and leave the two of them together.
At that moment the ladies left the well and came up to where we were. Grushnitski succeeded in assuming a dramatic pose with the aid of his crutch, and in a loud tone of voice answered me in French: "Mon cher, je hais les hommes pour ne pas les mepriser, car autrement la vie serait une farce trop degoutante."
In front rode Grushnitski with Princess Mary. The ladies at the watering-place still believe in attacks by Circassians in broad daylight; for that reason, doubtless, Grushnitski had slung a sabre and a pair of pistols over his soldier's cloak. He looked ridiculous enough in that heroic attire.
"Tell us, tell us, who was he?" came from all sides. "Pechorin," answered Grushnitski. At that moment he raised his eyes I was standing in the doorway opposite to him. He grew terribly red.
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