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Updated: June 26, 2025
For a moment the staffcaptain was petrified, but then eagerly seized Pechorin's hand in both his own. He was still unable to speak. "How glad I am to see you, my dear Maksim Maksimych! Well, how are you?" said Pechorin. "And... thou... you?" murmured the old man, with tears in his eyes. "What an age it is since I have seen you!... But where are you off to?"...
"But, in spite of heat and fatigue, Pechorin didn't like to return empty-handed... That is just the kind of man he was; whatever he set his heart on he had to have evidently, in his childhood, he had been spoiled by an indulgent mother. At last, at midday, we discovered one of those cursed wild boars Bang! Bang! No good! Off it went into the reeds.
"In about four days' time Azamat rode over to the fortress. As his usual custom was, he went to see Grigori Aleksandrovich, who always used to give him sweetmeats to eat. I was present. The conversation was on the subject of horses, and Pechorin began to sound the praises of Kazbich's Karagyoz. What a mettlesome horse it was, and how handsome! A perfect chamois!
But wherewith can they be replaced when one is at the age of Maksim Maksimych? Do what you will, the heart hardens and the soul shrinks in upon itself. I departed alone. I LEARNED not long ago that Pechorin had died on his way back from Persia.
You will tell me, as you have told me before, that no man can be so bad as this; and my reply will be: "If you believe that such persons as the villains of tragedy and romance could exist in real life, why can you not believe in the reality of Pechorin?
"Pechorin rose, bowed to her, put his hand to his forehead and heart, and asked me to answer her. I know their language well, and I translated his reply. "When she had left us I whispered to Grigori Aleksandrovich: "'Well, now, what do you think of her? "'Charming! he replied. 'What is her name? "'Her name is Bela, I answered.
We were all petrified. "Mr. Pechorin," he added, "take a card and throw it up in the air." I took, as I remember now, an ace of hearts off the table and threw it into the air. All held their breath. With eyes full of terror and a certain vague curiosity they glanced rapidly from the pistol to the fateful ace, which slowly descended, quivering in the air.
"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?"
If I had even been his friend, well and good: the artful indiscretion of the true friend is intelligible to everybody; but I only saw Pechorin once in my life on the high-road and, consequently, I cannot cherish towards him that inexplicable hatred, which, hiding its face under the mask of friendship, awaits but the death or misfortune of the beloved object to burst over its head in a storm of reproaches, admonitions, scoffs and regrets.
Bela was sitting on the bed, wearing a black silk jacket, and looking rather pale and so sad that I was alarmed. "'Where is Pechorin? I asked. "'Hunting. "'When did he go to-day? "'She was silent, as if she found a difficulty in answering. "'No, he has been gone since yesterday, she said at length, with a heavy sigh. "'Surely nothing has happened to him!
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