t will ever be present to my memory!'... Pechorin,
my friend, I cannot congratulate you, you are in her black books... And,
indeed, it is a pity, because Mary is a charming girl!"...

It must be observed that Grushnitski is one of those men who, in
speaking of a woman with whom they are barely acquainted, call her my
Mary, my Sophie, if she has had the good fortune to please them.

I assumed a serious air and answered:

"Yes, she is good-looking... Only be careful, Grushnitski! Russian
ladies, for the most part, cherish only Platonic love, without mingling
any thought of matrimony with it; and Platonic love is exceedingly
embarrassing. Princess Mary seems to be one of those women who want to
be amused. If she is bored in your company for two minutes on end--you
are lost irrevocably. Your silence ought to excite her curiosity, your
conversation ought never to satisfy it completely; you should alarm her
every minute; ten times, in public, she will slight people's opinion for
you and will call that a sacrifice, and, in order to requite herself for
it, she will torment you. Afterwards she will simply say that she cannot
endure you. If you do not acquire authority over her, even her first
kiss will not give you the right to a second. She will flirt with you to
her heart's content, and, in two years' time, she will marry a monster,
in obedience to her mother, and will assure herself that she is unhappy,
that she has loved only one man--that is to say, you--but that Heaven
was not willing to unite her to him because he wore a soldier's cloak,
although beneath that thick, grey cloak beat a heart, passionate and
noble"...

Grushnitski smote the table with his fist and fell to walking to and fro
across the room.

I laughed inwardly and even smiled once or twice, but fortunately he did
not notice. It is evident that he is in love, because he has grown even
more confiding than heretofore. Moreover, a ring has made its appearance
on his finger, a silver ring with black enamel of local workmanship. It
struck me as suspicious... I began to examine it, and what do you think
I saw? The name Mary was engraved on the inside in small letters, and in
a line with the name was the date on which she had picked up the
famous tumbler. I kept my discovery a secret. I do not want to force
confessions from him, I want him, of his own accord, to choose me as his
confidant--and then I will enjoy myself!...

*****

To-day I rose late. I went t