there are all like that?"

I replied that there were a good many people who used the same sort
of language, that, probably, there might even be some who spoke in all
sincerity; that disillusionment, moreover, like all other vogues, having
had its beginning in the higher strata of society, had descended to the
lower, where it was being worn threadbare, and that, now, those who were
really and truly bored strove to conceal their misfortune as if it were
a vice. The staff-captain did not understand these subtleties, shook his
head, and smiled slyly.

"Anyhow, I suppose it was the French who introduced the fashion?"

"No, the English."

"Aha, there you are!" he answered. "They always have been arrant
drunkards, you know!"

Involuntarily I recalled to mind a certain lady, living in Moscow, who
used to maintain that Byron was nothing more nor less than a drunkard.
However, the staff-captain's observation was more excusable; in order to
abstain from strong drink, he naturally endeavoured to convince himself
that all the misfortunes in the world are the result of drunkenness.

CHAPTER X

MEANWHILE the staff-captain continued his story.

"Kazbich never put in an appearance again; but somehow--I don't know
why--I could not get the idea out of my head that he had had a reason
for coming, and that some mischievous scheme was in his mind.

"Well, one day Pechorin tried to persuade me to go boar-hunting with
him. For a long time I refused. What novelty was a wild boar to me?

"However, off he dragged me, all the same. We took four or five soldiers
and set out early in the morning. Up till ten o'clock we scurried about
the reeds and the forest--there wasn't a wild beast to be found!

"'I say, oughtn't we to be going back?' I said. 'What's the use of
sticking at it? It is evident enough that we have happened on an unlucky
day!'

"But, in spite of heat and fatigue, Pechorin didn't like to return
empty-handed... That is just the kind of man he was; whatever he set
his heart on he had to have--evidently, in his childhood, he had been
spoiled by an indulgent mother. At last, at midday, we discovered one
of those cursed wild boars--Bang! Bang!--No good!--Off it went into the
reeds. That was an unlucky day, to be sure!... So, after a short rest,
we set off homeward...

"We rode in silence, side by side, giving the horses their head. We had
almost reached the fortress, and only the brushwood concealed it from
view. Suddenl