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.

"And a beautiful girl she was indeed; her figure was tall and slender,
her eyes black as those of a mountain chamois, and they fairly looked
into your soul. Pechorin, deep in thought, kept his gaze fixed upon her,
and she, for her part, stole glances at him often enough from under her
lashes. Pechorin, however, was not the only one who was admiring the
pretty princess; another pair of eyes, fixed and fiery, were gazing at
her from the corner of the room. I took a good look at their owner, and
recognised my old acquaintance Kazbich, who, you must know, was neither
exactly 'friendly' nor yet the other thing. He was an object of much
suspicion, although he had never actually been caught at any knavery. He
used to bring rams to our fortress and sell them cheaply; only he never
would haggle; whatever he demanded at first you had to give. He
would have his throat cut rather than come down in price. He had the
reputation of being fond of roaming on the far side of the Kuban with
the Abreks; and, to tell the truth, he had a regular thief's visage. A
little, wizened, broad-shouldered fellow he was--but smart, I can tell
you, smart as the very devil! His tunic was always worn out and
patched, but his weapons were mounted in silver. His horse was renowned
throughout Kabardia--and, indeed, a better one it would be impossible
to imagine! Not without good reason did all the other horsemen envy
Kazbich, and on more than one occasion they had attempted to steal the
horse, but they had never succeeded. I seem to see the animal before
me now--black as coal, with legs like bow-strings and eyes as fine as
Bela's! How strong he was too! He would gallop as much as fifty versts
at a stretch! And he was well trained besides--he would trot behind his
master like a dog, and actually knew his voice! Kazbich never used to
tether him either--just the very horse for a robber!...

"On that evening Kazbich was more sullen than ever, and I noticed that
he was wearing a coat of mail under his tunic. 'He hasn't got that coat
of mail on for nothing,' I thought. 'He has some plot in his head, I'll
be bound!'

"It grew oppressively hot in the hut, and I went out into the air
to cool myself. Night had fallen upon the mountains