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Updated: May 17, 2025
Your papers were left with me, Grigori Aleksandrovich... I drag them about everywhere I go... I thought I should find you in Georgia, but this is where it has pleased Heaven that we should meet. What's to be done with them?"... "Whatever you like!" answered Pechorin. "Good-bye."... "So you are off to Persia?... But when will you return?" Maksim Maksimych cried after him.
"If you care to wait a little longer," I said, "you will have the pleasure of meeting an old friend." "Oh, exactly!" he answered quickly. "They told me so yesterday. Where is he, though?" I looked in the direction of the square and there I descried Maksim Maksimych running as hard as he could. In a few moments he was beside us.
Before ten minutes had passed the man we were awaiting appeared at the end of the square. He was walking with Colonel N., who accompanied him as far as the inn, said good-bye to him, and then turned back to the fortress. I immediately despatched one of the old soldiers for Maksim Maksimych.
"Yes, I remember!" he said, almost immediately forcing a yawn. Maksim Maksimych began to beg him to stay with him for a couple of hours or so longer. "We will have a splendid dinner," he said.
The horses were already put to; now and then the bell jingled on the shaft-bow; and the manservant had twice gone up to Pechorin with the announcement that everything was ready, but still there was no sign of Maksim Maksimych. Fortunately Pechorin was sunk in thought as he gazed at the jagged, blue peaks of the Caucasus, and was apparently by no means in a hurry for the road. I went up to him.
"You are not going, then, Maksim Maksimych?" "No, sir!" "But why not?" "Well, I have not seen the Commandant yet, and I have to deliver some Government things." "But you did go, you know." "I did, of course," he stammered, "but he was not at home... and I did not wait." I understood.
We expect something new... How absurd, and yet how vexatious! IT is now a month and a half since I have been in the N Fortress. Maksim Maksimych is out hunting... I am alone. I am sitting by the window. Grey clouds have covered the mountains to the foot; the sun appears through the mist as a yellow spot.
I asked Maksim Maksimych. "His name was Grigori Aleksandrovich Pechorin. He was a splendid fellow, I can assure you, but a little peculiar. Why, to give you an instance, one time he would stay out hunting the whole day, in the rain and cold; the others would all be frozen through and tired out, but he wouldn't mind either cold or fatigue.
"You have not heard what became of Kazbich?" I asked. "Kazbich? In truth, I don't know. I have heard that with the Shapsugs, on our right flank, there is a certain Kazbich, a dare-devil fellow who rides about at a walking pace, in a red tunic, under our bullets, and bows politely whenever one hums near him but it can scarcely be the same person!"... In Kobi, Maksim Maksimych and I parted company.
AFTER parting with Maksim Maksimych, I galloped briskly through the gorges of the Terek and Darial, breakfasted in Kazbek, drank tea in Lars, and arrived at Vladikavkaz in time for supper. I spare you a description of the mountains, as well as exclamations which convey no meaning, and word-paintings which convey no image especially to those who have never been in the Caucasus.
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