r love.
I was mistaken. Farewell! Remain absolute mistress of all I possess.
Return to your father if you like--you are free. I have acted
wrongfully towards you, and I must punish myself. Farewell! I am going.
Whither?--How should I know? Perchance I shall not have long to court
the bullet or the sabre-stroke. Then remember me and forgive.'

"He turned away, and stretched out his hand to her in farewell. She did
not take his hand, but remained silent. But I, standing there behind the
door, was able through a chink to observe her countenance, and I felt
sorry for her--such a deathly pallor shrouded that charming little face!
Hearing no answer, Pechorin took a few steps towards the door. He was
trembling, and--shall I tell you?--I think that he was in a state to
perform in very fact what he had been saying in jest! He was just that
sort of man, Heaven knows!

"He had scarcely touched the door, however, when Bela sprang to her
feet, burst out sobbing, and threw herself on his neck! Would you
believe it? I, standing there behind the door, fell to weeping too,
that is to say, you know, not exactly weeping--but just--well, something
foolish!"

The staff-captain became silent.

"Yes, I confess," he said after a while, tugging at his moustache, "I
felt hurt that not one woman had ever loved me like that."

"Was their happiness lasting?" I asked.

"Yes, she admitted that, from the day she had first cast eyes on
Pechorin, she had often dreamed of him, and that no other man had ever
produced such an impression upon her. Yes, they were happy!"

"How tiresome!" I exclaimed, involuntarily.

In point of fact, I had been expecting a tragic ending--when, lo! he
must needs disappoint my hopes in such an unexpected manner!...

"Is it possible, though," I continued, "that her father did not guess
that she was with you in the fortress?"

"Well, you must know, he seems to have had his suspicions. After a few
days, we learned that the old man had been murdered. This is how it
happened."...

My attention was aroused anew.

"I must tell you that Kazbich imagined that the horse had been stolen by
Azamat with his father's consent; at any rate, that is what I suppose.
So, one day, Kazbich went and waited by the roadside, about three versts
beyond the village. The old man was returning from one of his futile
searches for his daughter; his retainers were lagging behind. It was
dusk. Deep in thought, he was riding at a walking pace wh