A Hero of Our Time

by Mikhail Iurevich Lermontov

  TAMAN

  TAMAN is the nastiest little hole of all the seaports of Russia. I wasall but starved there, to say nothing of having a narrow escape of beingdrowned.

  I arrived late at night by the post-car. The driver stopped the tiredtroika [21] at the gate of the only stone-built house that stood at theentrance to the town. The sentry, a Cossack from the Black Sea, hearingthe jingle of the bell, cried out, sleepily, in his barbarous voice,"Who goes there?" An under-officer of Cossacks and a headborough [22]came out. I explained that I was an officer bound for the active-servicedetachment on Government business, and I proceeded to demand officialquarters. The headborough conducted us round the town. Whatever hut wedrove up to we found to be occupied. The weather was cold; I had notslept for three nights; I was tired out, and I began to lose my temper.

  "Take me somewhere or other, you scoundrel!" I cried; "to the devilhimself, so long as there's a place to put up at!"

  "There is one other lodging," answered the headborough, scratching hishead. "Only you won't like it, sir. It is uncanny!"

  Failing to grasp the exact signification of the last phrase, I orderedhim to go on, and, after a lengthy peregrination through muddy byways,at the sides of which I could see nothing but old fences, we drove up toa small cabin, right on the shore of the sea.

  The full moon was shining on the little reed-thatched roof and the whitewalls of my new dwelling. In the courtyard, which was surrounded by awall of rubble-stone, there stood another miserable hovel, smaller andolder than the first and all askew. The shore descended precipitouslyto the sea, almost from its very walls, and down below, with incessantmurmur, plashed the dark-blue waves. The moon gazed softly upon thewatery element, restless but obedient to it, and I was able by its lightto distinguish two ships lying at some distance from the shore, theirblack rigging motionless and standing out, like cobwebs, against thepale line of the horizon.

  "There are vessels in the harbour," I said to myself. "To-morrow I willset out for Gelenjik."

  I had with me, in the capacity of soldier-servant, a Cossack of thefrontier army. Ordering him to take down the portmanteau and dismissthe driver, I began to call the master of the house. No answer! Iknocked--all was silent within!... What could it mean? At length a boyof about fourteen crept out from the hall.

  "Where is the master?"

  "There isn't one."

  "What! No master?"

  "None!"

  "And the mistress?"

  "She has gone off to the village."

  "Who will open the door for me, then?" I said, giving it a kick.

  The door opened of its own accord, and a breath of moisture-laden airwas wafted from the hut. I struck a lucifer match and held it to theboy's face. It lit up two white eyes. He was totally blind, obviously sofrom birth. He stood stock-still before me, and I began to examine hisfeatures.

  I confess that I have a violent prejudice against all blind, one-eyed,deaf, dumb, legless, armless, hunchbacked, and such-like people. I haveobserved that there is always a certain strange connection between aman's exterior and his soul; as, if when the body loses a limb, the soulalso loses some power of feeling.

  And so I began to examine the blind boy's face. But what could be readupon a face from which the eyes are missing?... For a long time I gazedat him with involuntary compassion, when suddenly a scarcely perceptiblesmile flitted over his thin lips, producing, I know not why, a mostunpleasant impression upon me. I began to feel a suspicion that theblind boy was not so blind as he appeared to be. In vain I endeavouredto convince myself that it was impossible to counterfeit cataracts; andbesides, what reason could there be for doing such a thing? But I couldnot help my suspicions. I am easily swayed by prejudice...

  "You are the master's son?" I asked at length.

  "No."

  "Who are you, then?"

  "An orphan--a poor boy."

  "Has the mistress any children?"

  "No, her daughter ran away and crossed the sea with a Tartar."

  "What sort of a Tartar?"

  "The devil only knows! A Crimean Tartar, a boatman from Kerch."

  I entered the hut. Its whole furniture consisted of two benches and atable, together with an enormous chest beside the stove. There was nota single ikon to be seen on the wall--a bad sign! The sea-wind burstin through the broken window-pane. I drew a wax candle-end from myportmanteau, lit it, and began to put my things out. My sabre and gunI placed in a corner, my pistols I laid on the table. I spread my feltcloak out on one bench, and the Cossack his on the other. In ten minutesthe latter was snoring, but I could not go to sleep--the image of theboy with the white eyes kept hovering before me in the dark.

  About an hour passed thus. The moon shone in at the window and its raysplayed along the earthen floor of the hut. Suddenly a shadow flittedacross the bright strip of moonshine which intersected the floor. Iraised myself up a little and glanced out of the window. Again somebodyran by it and disappeared--goodness knows where! It seemed impossiblefor anyone to descend the steep cliff overhanging the shore, but thatwas the only thing that could have happened. I rose, threw on my tunic,girded on a dagger, and with the utmost quietness went out of the hut.The blind boy was coming towards me. I hid by the fence, and he passedby me with a sure but cautious step. He was carrying a parcel underhis arm. He turned towards the harbour and began to descend a steep andnarrow path.

  "On that day the dumb will cry out and the blind will see," I said tomyself, following him just close enough to keep him in sight.

  Meanwhile the moon was becoming overcast by clouds and a mist had risenupon the sea. The lantern alight in the stern of a ship close at handwas scarcely visible through the mist, and by the shore there glimmeredthe foam of the waves, which every moment threatened to submerge it.Descending with difficulty, I stole along the steep declivity, and allat once I saw the blind boy come to a standstill and then turn down tothe right. He walked so close to the water's edge that it seemed as ifthe waves would straightway seize him and carry him off. But, judging bythe confidence with which he stepped from rock to rock and avoided thewater-channels, this was evidently not the first time that he had madethat journey. Finally he stopped, as though listening for something,squatted down upon the ground, and laid the parcel beside him.Concealing myself behind a projecting rock on the shore, I kept watchon his movements. After a few minutes a white figure made its appearancefrom the opposite direction. It came up to the blind boy and sat downbeside him. At times the wind wafted their conversation to me.

  "Well?" said a woman's voice. "The storm is violent; Yanko will not behere."

  "Yanko is not afraid of the storm!" the other replied.

  "The mist is thickening," rejoined the woman's voice, sadness in itstone.

  "In the mist it is all the easier to slip past the guardships," was theanswer.

  "And if he is drowned?"

  "Well, what then? On Sunday you won't have a new ribbon to go to churchin."

  An interval of silence followed. One thing, however, struck me--intalking to me the blind boy spoke in the Little Russian dialect, but nowhe was expressing himself in pure Russian.

  "You see, I am right!" the blind boy went on, clapping his hands. "Yankois not afraid of sea, nor winds, nor mist, nor coastguards! Just listen!That is not the water plashing, you can't deceive me--it is his longoars."

  The woman sprang up and began anxiously to gaze into the distance.

  "You are raving!" she said. "I cannot see anything."

  I confess that, much as I tried to make out in the distance somethingresembling a boat, my efforts were unsuccessful. About ten minutespassed thus, when a black speck appeared between the mountains of thewaves! At one time it grew larger, at another smaller. Slowly risingupon the crests of the waves and swiftly descending from them, the boatdrew near to the shore.

  "He must be a brave sailor," I thought, "to have determined to crossthe twenty versts of strait on a night like this, and he must have had aweighty reason for doing so."
<
br />   Reflecting thus, I gazed with an involuntary beating of the heart atthe poor boat. It dived like a duck, and then, with rapidly swingingoars--like wings--it sprang forth from the abyss amid the splashes ofthe foam. "Ah!" I thought, "it will be dashed against the shore with allits force and broken to pieces!" But it turned aside adroitly and leapedunharmed into a little creek. Out of it stepped a man of medium height,wearing a Tartar sheepskin cap. He waved his hand, and all three set towork to drag something out of the boat. The cargo was so large that, tothis day, I cannot understand how it was that the boat did not sink.

  Each of them shouldered a bundle, and they set off along the shore, andI soon lost sight of them. I had to return home; but I confess I wasrendered uneasy by all these strange happenings, and I found it hard toawait the morning.

  My Cossack was very much astonished when, on waking up, he saw me fullydressed. I did not, however, tell him the reason. For some time I stoodat the window, gazing admiringly at the blue sky all studded with wispsof cloud, and at the distant shore of the Crimea, stretching out in alilac-coloured streak and ending in a cliff, on the summit of which thewhite tower of the lighthouse was gleaming. Then I betook myself to thefortress, Phanagoriya, in order to ascertain from the Commandant at whathour I should depart for Gelenjik.

  But the Commandant, alas! could not give me any definite information.The vessels lying in the harbour were all either guard-ships ormerchant-vessels which had not yet even begun to take in lading.

  "Maybe in about three or four days' time a mail-boat will come in," saidthe Commandant, "and then we shall see."

  I returned home sulky and wrathful. My Cossack met me at the door with afrightened countenance.

  "Things are looking bad, sir!" he said.

  "Yes, my friend; goodness only knows when we shall get away!"

  Hereupon he became still more uneasy, and, bending towards me, he saidin a whisper:

  "It is uncanny here! I met an under-officer from the Black Seato-day--he's an acquaintance of mine--he was in my detachment last year.When I told him where we were staying, he said, 'That place is uncanny,old fellow; they're wicked people there!'... And, indeed, what sort ofa blind boy is that? He goes everywhere alone, to fetch water and to buybread at the bazaar. It is evident they have become accustomed to thatsort of thing here."

  "Well, what then? Tell me, though, has the mistress of the place put inan appearance?"

  "During your absence to-day, an old woman and her daughter arrived."

  "What daughter? She has no daughter!"

  "Goodness knows who it can be if it isn't her daughter; but the oldwoman is sitting over there in the hut now."

  I entered the hovel. A blazing fire was burning in the stove, and theywere cooking a dinner which struck me as being a rather luxurious onefor poor people. To all my questions the old woman replied that she wasdeaf and could not hear me. There was nothing to be got out of her. Iturned to the blind boy who was sitting in front of the stove, puttingtwigs into the fire.

  "Now, then, you little blind devil," I said, taking him by the ear."Tell me, where were you roaming with the bundle last night, eh?"

  The blind boy suddenly burst out weeping, shrieking and wailing.

  "Where did I go? I did not go anywhere... With the bundle?... Whatbundle?"

  This time the old woman heard, and she began to mutter:

  "Hark at them plotting, and against a poor boy too! What are youtouching him for? What has he done to you?"

  I had enough of it, and went out, firmly resolved to find the key to theriddle.

  I wrapped myself up in my felt cloak and, sitting down on a rock by thefence, gazed into the distance. Before me stretched the sea, agitatedby the storm of the previous night, and its monotonous roar, like themurmur of a town over which slumber is beginning to creep, recalledbygone years to my mind, and transported my thoughts northward to ourcold Capital. Agitated by my recollections, I became oblivious of mysurroundings.

  About an hour passed thus, perhaps even longer. Suddenly somethingresembling a song struck upon my ear. It was a song, and the voice was awoman's, young and fresh--but, where was it coming from?... I listened;it was a harmonious melody--now long-drawnout and plaintive, now swiftand lively. I looked around me--there was nobody to be seen. I listenedagain--the sounds seemed to be falling from the sky. I raised my eyes.On the roof of my cabin was standing a young girl in a striped dressand with her hair hanging loose--a regular water-nymph. Shading her eyesfrom the sun's rays with the palm of her hand, she was gazing intentlyinto the distance. At one time, she would laugh and talk to herself, atanother, she would strike up her song anew.

  I have retained that song in my memory, word for word:

  At their own free will

  They seem to wander

  O'er the green sea yonder,

  Those ships, as still

  They are onward going,

  With white sails flowing.

  And among those ships

  My eye can mark

  My own dear barque:

  By two oars guided

  (All unprovided

  With sails) it slips.

  The storm-wind raves:

  And the old ships--see!

  With wings spread free,

  Over the waves

  They scatter and flee!

  The sea I will hail

  With obeisance deep:

  "Thou base one, hark!

  Thou must not fail

  My little barque

  From harm to keep!"

  For lo! 'tis bearing

  Most precious gear,

  And brave and daring

  The arms that steer

  Within the dark

  My little barque.

  Involuntarily the thought occurred to me that I had heard the same voicethe night before. I reflected for a moment, and when I looked up at theroof again there was no girl to be seen. Suddenly she darted past me,with another song on her lips, and, snapping her fingers, she ran upto the old woman. Thereupon a quarrel arose between them. The oldwoman grew angry, and the girl laughed loudly. And then I saw my Undinerunning and gambolling again. She came up to where I was, stopped, andgazed fixedly into my face as if surprised at my presence. Then sheturned carelessly away and went quietly towards the harbour. But thiswas not all. The whole day she kept hovering around my lodging, singingand gambolling without a moment's interruption. Strange creature! Therewas not the slightest sign of insanity in her face; on the contrary, hereyes, which were continually resting upon me, were bright and piercing.Moreover, they seemed to be endowed with a certain magnetic power, andeach time they looked at me they appeared to be expecting a question.But I had only to open my lips to speak, and away she would run, with asly smile.

  Certainly never before had I seen a woman like her. She was by no meansbeautiful; but, as in other matters, I have my own prepossessions on thesubject of beauty. There was a good deal of breeding in her... Breedingin women, as in horses, is a great thing: a discovery, the credit ofwhich belongs to young France. It--that is to say, breeding, not youngFrance--is chiefly to be detected in the gait, in the hands and feet;the nose, in particular, is of the greatest significance. In Russia astraight nose is rarer than a small foot.

  My songstress appeared to be not more than eighteen years of age. Theunusual suppleness of her figure, the characteristic and original wayshe had of inclining her head, her long, light-brown hair, the goldensheen of her slightly sunburnt neck and shoulders, and especially herstraight nose--all these held me fascinated. Although in her sidelongglances I could read a certain wildness and disdain, although inher smile there was a certain vagueness, yet--such is the force ofpredilections--that straight nose of hers drove me crazy. I fanciedthat I had found Goethe's Mignon--that queer creature of his Germanimagination. And, indeed, there was a good deal of similarity betweenthem; the same rapi
d transitions from the utmost restlessness tocomplete immobility, the same enigmatical speeches, the same gambols,the same strange songs.

  Towards evening I stopped her at the door and entered into the followingconversation with her.

  "Tell me, my beauty," I asked, "what were you doing on the roof to-day?"

  "I was looking to see from what direction the wind was blowing."

  "What did you want to know for?"

  "Whence the wind blows comes happiness."

  "Well? Were you invoking happiness with your song?"

  "Where there is singing there is also happiness."

  "But what if your song were to bring you sorrow?"

  "Well, what then? Where things won't be better, they will be worse; andfrom bad to good again is not far."

  "And who taught you that song?"

  "Nobody taught me; it comes into my head and I sing; whoever is tohear it, he will hear it, and whoever ought not to hear it, he will notunderstand it."

  "What is your name, my songstress?"

  "He who baptized me knows."

  "And who baptized you?"

  "How should I know?"

  "What a secretive girl you are! But look here, I have learned somethingabout you"--she neither changed countenance nor moved her lips, asthough my discovery was of no concern to her--"I have learned that youwent to the shore last night."

  And, thereupon, I very gravely retailed to her all that I had seen,thinking that I should embarrass her. Not a bit of it! She burst outlaughing heartily.

  "You have seen much, but know little; and what you do know, see that youkeep it under lock and key."

  "But supposing, now, I was to take it into my head to inform theCommandant?" and here I assumed a very serious, not to say stern,demeanour.

  She gave a sudden spring, began to sing, and hid herself like a birdfrightened out of a thicket. My last words were altogether out of place.I had no suspicion then how momentous they were, but afterwards I hadoccasion to rue them.

  As soon as the dusk of evening fell, I ordered the Cossack to heat theteapot, campaign fashion. I lighted a candle and sat down by the table,smoking my travelling-pipe. I was just about to finish my second tumblerof tea when suddenly the door creaked and I heard behind me the sound offootsteps and the light rustle of a dress. I started and turned round.

  It was she--my Undine. Softly and without saying a word she sat downopposite to me and fixed her eyes upon me. Her glance seemed wondrouslytender, I know not why; it reminded me of one of those glances which,in years gone by, so despotically played with my life. She seemed to bewaiting for a question, but I kept silence, filled with an inexplicablesense of embarrassment. Mental agitation was evinced by the dullpallor which overspread her countenance; her hand, which I noticed wastrembling slightly, moved aimlessly about the table. At one time herbreast heaved, and at another she seemed to be holding her breath. Thislittle comedy was beginning to pall upon me, and I was about to breakthe silence in a most prosaic manner, that is, by offering her a glassof tea; when suddenly, springing up, she threw her arms around my neck,and I felt her moist, fiery lips pressed upon mine. Darkness came beforemy eyes, my head began to swim. I embraced her with the whole strengthof youthful passion. But, like a snake, she glided from between my arms,whispering in my ear as she did so:

  "To-night, when everyone is asleep, go out to the shore."

  Like an arrow she sprang from the room.

  In the hall she upset the teapot and a candle which was standing on thefloor.

  "Little devil!" cried the Cossack, who had taken up his position on thestraw and had contemplated warming himself with the remains of the tea.

  It was only then that I recovered my senses.

  In about two hours' time, when all had grown silent in the harbour, Iawakened my Cossack.

  "If I fire a pistol," I said, "run to the shore."

  He stared open-eyed and answered mechanically:

  "Very well, sir."

  I stuffed a pistol in my belt and went out. She was waiting for meat the edge of the cliff. Her attire was more than light, and a smallkerchief girded her supple waist.

  "Follow me!" she said, taking me by the hand, and we began to descend.

  I cannot understand how it was that I did not break my neck. Down belowwe turned to the right and proceeded to take the path along which I hadfollowed the blind boy the evening before. The moon had not yet risen,and only two little stars, like two guardian lighthouses, were twinklingin the dark-blue vault of heaven. The heavy waves, with measured andeven motion, rolled one after the other, scarcely lifting the solitaryboat which was moored to the shore.

  "Let us get into the boat," said my companion.

  I hesitated. I am no lover of sentimental trips on the sea; but this wasnot the time to draw back. She leaped into the boat, and I after her;and I had not time to recover my wits before I observed that we wereadrift.

  "What is the meaning of this?" I said angrily.

  "It means," she answered, seating me on the bench and throwing her armsaround my waist, "it means that I love you!"...

  Her cheek was pressed close to mine, and I felt her burning breath uponmy face. Suddenly something fell noisily into the water. I clutched atmy belt--my pistol was gone! Ah, now a terrible suspicion crept intomy soul, and the blood rushed to my head! I looked round. We were aboutfifty fathoms from the shore, and I could not swim a stroke! I triedto thrust her away from me, but she clung like a cat to my clothes,and suddenly a violent wrench all but threw me into the sea. The boatrocked, but I righted myself, and a desperate struggle began.

  Fury lent me strength, but I soon found that I was no match for myopponent in point of agility...

  "What do you want?" I cried, firmly squeezing her little hands.

  Her fingers crunched, but her serpent-like nature bore up against thetorture, and she did not utter a cry.

  "You saw us," she answered. "You will tell on us."

  And, with a supernatural effort, she flung me on to the side of theboat; we both hung half overboard; her hair touched the water. Thedecisive moment had come. I planted my knee against the bottom of theboat, caught her by the tresses with one hand and by the throat with theother; she let go my clothes, and, in an instant, I had thrown her intothe waves.

  It was now rather dark; once or twice her head appeared for an instantamidst the sea foam, and I saw no more of her.

  I found the half of an old oar at the bottom of the boat, and somehow orother, after lengthy efforts, I made fast to the harbour. Making my wayalong the shore towards my hut, I involuntarily gazed in the directionof the spot where, on the previous night, the blind boy had awaited thenocturnal mariner. The moon was already rolling through the sky, and itseemed to me that somebody in white was sitting on the shore. Spurred bycuriosity, I crept up and crouched down in the grass on the top of thecliff. By thrusting my head out a little way I was able to get a goodview of everything that was happening down below, and I was not verymuch astonished, but almost rejoiced, when I recognised my water-nymph.She was wringing the seafoam from her long hair. Her wet garmentoutlined her supple figure and her high bosom.

  Soon a boat appeared in the distance; it drew near rapidly; and, as onthe night before, a man in a Tartar cap stepped out of it, but he nowhad his hair cropped round in the Cossack fashion, and a large knife wassticking out behind his leather belt.

  "Yanko," the girl said, "all is lost!"

  Then their conversation continued, but so softly that I could not catcha word of it.

  "But where is the blind boy?" said Yanko at last, raising his voice.

  "I have told him to come," was the reply.

  After a few minutes the blind boy appeared, dragging on his back a sack,which they placed in the boat.

  "Listen!" said Yanko to the blind boy. "Guard that place! You know whereI mean? There are valuable goods there. Tell"--I could not catch thename--"that I am no longer his servant. Things have gone badly. He willsee me no more. It is dangerous now. I wil
l go seek work in anotherplace, and he will never be able to find another dare-devil like me.Tell him also that if he had paid me a little better for my labours, Iwould not have forsaken him. For me there is a way anywhere, if only thewind blows and the sea roars."

  After a short silence Yanko continued.

  "She is coming with me. It is impossible for her to remain here. Tellthe old woman that it is time for her to die; she has been here a longtime, and the line must be drawn somewhere. As for us, she will neversee us any more."

  "And I?" said the blind boy in a plaintive voice.

  "What use have I for you?" was the answer.

  In the meantime my Undine had sprung into the boat. She beckoned to hercompanion with her hand. He placed something in the blind boy's hand andadded:

  "There, buy yourself some gingerbreads."

  "Is this all?" said the blind boy.

  "Well, here is some more."

  The money fell and jingled as it struck the rock.

  The blind boy did not pick it up. Yanko took his seat in the boat; thewind was blowing from the shore; they hoisted the little sail and spedrapidly away. For a long time the white sail gleamed in the moonlightamid the dark waves. Still the blind boy remained seated upon the shore,and then I heard something which sounded like sobbing. The blind boywas, in fact, weeping, and for a long, long time his tears flowed... Igrew heavy-hearted. For what reason should fate have thrown me into thepeaceful circle of honourable smugglers? Like a stone cast into a smoothwell, I had disturbed their quietude, and I barely escaped going to thebottom like a stone.

  I returned home. In the hall the burnt-out candle was spluttering ona wooden platter, and my Cossack, contrary to orders, was fast asleep,with his gun held in both hands. I left him at rest, took the candle,and entered the hut. Alas! my cashbox, my sabre with the silver chasing,my Daghestan dagger--the gift of a friend--all had vanished! It wasthen that I guessed what articles the cursed blind boy had been draggingalong. Roughly shaking the Cossack, I woke him up, rated him, and lostmy temper. But what was the good of that? And would it not have beenridiculous to complain to the authorities that I had been robbed by ablind boy and all but drowned by an eighteen-year-old girl?

  Thank heaven an opportunity of getting away presented itself in themorning, and I left Taman.

  What became of the old woman and the poor blind boy I know not.And, besides, what are the joys and sorrows of mankind to me--me, atravelling officer, and one, moreover, with an order for post-horses onGovernment business?