A Hero of Our Time
Page 25
CHAPTER X. 13th June.
HALF an hour before the ball, Grushnitski presented himself to me inthe full splendour of the uniform of the Line infantry. Attached tohis third button was a little bronze chain, on which hung a doublelorgnette. Epaulettes of incredible size were bent backwards and upwardsin the shape of a cupid's wings; his boots creaked; in his left hand heheld cinnamon-coloured kid gloves and a forage-cap, and with his right hekept every moment twisting his frizzled tuft of hair up into tiny curls.Complacency and at the same time a certain diffidence were depicted uponhis face. His festal appearance and proud gait would have made meburst out laughing, if such a proceeding had been in accordance with myintentions.
He threw his cap and gloves on the table and began to pull downthe skirts of his coat and to put himself to rights before thelooking-glass. An enormous black handkerchief, which was twisted into avery high stiffener for his cravat, and the bristles of which supportedhis chin, stuck out an inch over his collar. It seemed to him to berather small, and he drew it up as far as his ears. As a result ofthat hard work--the collar of his uniform being very tight anduncomfortable--he grew red in the face.
"They say you have been courting my princess terribly these last fewdays?" he said, rather carelessly and without looking at me.
"'Where are we fools to drink tea!'" [271] I answered, repeating a petphrase of one of the cleverest rogues of past times, once celebrated insong by Pushkin.
"Tell me, does my uniform fit me well?... Oh, the cursed Jew!... How itcuts me under the armpits!... Have you got any scent?"
"Good gracious, what more do you want? You are reeking of rose pomade asit is."
"Never mind. Give me some"...
He poured half a phial over his cravat, his pocket-handkerchief, hissleeves.
"You are going to dance?" he asked.
"I think not."
"I am afraid I shall have to lead off the mazurka with Princess Mary,and I scarcely know a single figure"...
"Have you asked her to dance the mazurka with you?"
"Not yet"...
"Mind you are not forestalled"...
"Just so, indeed!" he said, striking his forehead. "Good-bye... I willgo and wait for her at the entrance."
He seized his forage-cap and ran.
Half an hour later I also set off. The street was dark and deserted.Around the assembly rooms, or inn--whichever you prefer--people werethronging. The windows were lighted up, the strains of the regimentalband were borne to me on the evening breeze. I walked slowly; I feltmelancholy.
"Can it be possible," I thought, "that my sole mission on earth is todestroy the hopes of others? Ever since I began to live and to act, itseems always to have been my fate to play a part in the ending of otherpeople's dramas, as if, but for me, no one could either die or fallinto despair! I have been the indispensable person of the fifth act;unwillingly I have played the pitiful part of an executioner or atraitor. What object has fate had in this?... Surely, I have not beenappointed by destiny to be an author of middle-class tragedies and familyromances, or to be a collaborator with the purveyor of stories--for the'Reader's Library,' [272] for example?... How can I tell?... Are therenot many people who, in beginning life, think to end it like Lord Byronor Alexander the Great, and, nevertheless, remain Titular Councillors[273] all their days?"
Entering the saloon, I concealed myself in a crowd of men, and began tomake my observations.
Grushnitski was standing beside Princess Mary and saying something withgreat warmth. She was listening to him absent-mindedly and looking abouther, her fan laid to her lips. Impatience was depicted upon her face,her eyes were searching all around for somebody. I went softly behindthem in order to listen to their conversation.
"You torture me, Princess!" Grushnitski was saying. "You have changeddreadfully since I saw you last"...
"You, too, have changed," she answered, casting a rapid glance at him,in which he was unable to detect the latent sneer.
"I! Changed?... Oh, never! You know that such a thing is impossible!Whoever has seen you once will bear your divine image with him forever."
"Stop"...
"But why will you not let me say to-night what you have so oftenlistened to with condescension--and just recently, too?"...
"Because I do not like repetitions," she answered, laughing.
"Oh! I have been bitterly mistaken!... I thought, fool that I was, thatthese epaulettes, at least, would give me the right to hope... No,it would have been better for me to have remained for ever in thatcontemptible soldier's cloak, to which, probably, I was indebted foryour attention"...
"As a matter of fact, the cloak is much more becoming to you"...
At that moment I went up and bowed to Princess Mary. She blushed alittle, and went on rapidly:
"Is it not true, Monsieur Pechorin, that the grey cloak suits MonsieurGrushnitski much better?"...
"I do not agree with you," I answered: "he is more youthful-lookingstill in his uniform."
That was a blow which Grushnitski could not bear: like all boys, hehas pretensions to being an old man; he thinks that the deep tracesof passions upon his countenance take the place of the lines scored byTime. He cast a furious glance at me, stamped his foot, and took himselfoff.
"Confess now," I said to Princess Mary: "that although he has alwaysbeen most ridiculous, yet not so long ago he seemed to you to beinteresting... in the grey cloak?"...
She cast her eyes down and made no reply.
Grushnitski followed the Princess about during the whole evening anddanced either with her or vis-a-vis. He devoured her with his eyes,sighed, and wearied her with prayers and reproaches. After the thirdquadrille she had begun to hate him.
"I did not expect this from you," he said, coming up to me and taking myarm.
"What?"
"You are going to dance the mazurka with her?" he asked in a solemntone. "She admitted it"...
"Well, what then? It is not a secret, is it"?
"Of course not... I ought to have expected such a thing from thatchit--that flirt... I will have my revenge, though!"
"You should lay the blame on your cloak, or your epaulettes, but whyaccuse her? What fault is it of hers that she does not like you anylonger?"...
"But why give me hopes?"
"Why did you hope? To desire and to strive after something--that I canunderstand! But who ever hopes?"
"You have won the wager, but not quite," he said, with a malignantsmile.
The mazurka began. Grushnitski chose no one but the Princess, othercavaliers chose her every minute: obviously a conspiracy against me--allthe better! She wants to talk to me, they are preventing her--she willwant to twice as much.
I squeezed her hand once or twice; the second time she drew it awaywithout saying a word.
"I shall sleep badly to-night," she said to me when the mazurka wasover.
"Grushnitski is to blame for that."
"Oh, no!"
And her face became so pensive, so sad, that I promised myself that Iwould not fail to kiss her hand that evening.
The guests began to disperse. As I was handing Princess Mary into hercarriage, I rapidly pressed her little hand to my lips. The night wasdark and nobody could see.
I returned to the saloon very well satisfied with myself.
The young men, Grushnitski amongst them, were having supper at thelarge table. As I came in, they all fell silent: evidently they had beentalking about me. Since the last ball many of them have been sulky withme, especially the captain of dragoons; and now, it seems, a hostilegang is actually being formed against me, under the command ofGrushnitski. He wears such a proud and courageous air...
I am very glad; I love enemies, though not in the Christian sense. Theyamuse me, stir my blood. To be always on one's guard, to catch everyglance, the meaning of every word, to guess intentions, to crushconspiracies, to pretend to be deceived and suddenly with one blowto overthrow the whole immense and laboriously constructed edifice ofcunning and design--
that is what I call life.
During supper Grushnitski kept whispering and exchanging winks with thecaptain of dragoons.