by the time she had joined
the rest of the company.

All the way home she was continually talking and laughing. There
was something feverish in her movements; not once did she look in my
direction. Everybody observed her unusual gaiety. Princess Ligovski
rejoiced inwardly as she looked at her daughter. However, the latter
simply has a fit of nerves: she will spend a sleepless night, and will
weep.

This thought affords me measureless delight: there are moments when I
understand the Vampire... And yet I am reputed to be a good fellow, and
I strive to earn that designation!

On dismounting, the ladies went into Princess Ligovski's house. I was
excited, and I galloped to the mountains in order to dispel the
thoughts which had thronged into my head. The dewy evening breathed an
intoxicating coolness. The moon was rising from behind the dark summits.
Each step of my unshod horse resounded hollowly in the silence of the
gorges. I watered the horse at the waterfall, and then, after greedily
inhaling once or twice the fresh air of the southern night.

I set off on my way back. I rode through the village. The lights in the
windows were beginning to go out; the sentries on the fortress-rampart
and the Cossacks in the surrounding pickets were calling out in drawling
tones to one another.

In one of the village houses, built at the edge of a ravine, I noticed
an extraordinary illumination. At times, discordant murmurs and shouting
could be heard, proving that a military carouse was in full swing. I
dismounted and crept up to the window. The shutter had not been made
fast, and I could see the banqueters and catch what they were saying.
They were talking about me.

The captain of dragoons, flushed with wine, struck the table with his
fist, demanding attention.

"Gentlemen!" he said, "this won't do! Pechorin must be taught a lesson!
These Petersburg fledglings always carry their heads high until they get
a slap in the face! He thinks that because he always wears clean gloves
and polished boots he is the only one who has ever lived in society.
And what a haughty smile! All the same, I am convinced that he is a
coward--yes, a coward!"

"I think so too," said Grushnitski. "He is fond of getting himself out
of trouble by pretending to be only having a joke. I once gave him such
a talking to that anyone else in his place would have cut me to pieces
on the spot. But Pechorin turned it all to the ridiculous side. I, of
course, di