Hero of our time


In every book of the preface is the first and at the same time the last thing; It explains the purpose or works, or justification and response to criticism. But usually the readers do not care about moral purpose and to log attacks, and because they do not read prefaces. It's a pity, it is so, especially we. Our audience so young and ingenuous, he did not understand a fable, if in the end it is not preachy. She did not guess the joke, no sense of irony; it simply badly brought up. She does not know, in a decent society and a decent book explicit swearing can not take place; that modern education has invented a weapon sharper, almost invisible, and yet deadly, which, under clothing flattery, It causes an irresistible and sure hit. Our audience is similar to the provincial, which the, overhearing a conversation between two diplomats, belonging to the hostile yards, I would remain confident, that each of them is deceiving his government in favor of the mutual, tenderest friendship.
This book experienced a more recent unfortunate credulity of some readers and even magazines to the literal meaning of the words. Other badly offended, not joking, that they put as an example of such an immoral person, as the Hero of Our Time; others are very subtle notice, that the author painted his portrait and portraits of his friends ... old and pathetic joke! But, it is seen, Russia too is created by, that everything in it is updated, except such absurdities. The most magic of the fairy tales we can hardly escape the reproach of attempted personal injury!
Hero of our time, my dear sirs, exactly, portrait, but not a single person: this portrait, composed of the vices of our whole generation, the full development of their. You tell me again, that person may not be so Duren, and I will tell you, that if you believed in the possibility of the existence of all the tragic and romantic villains, why do you not believe in the reality of Pechorin? If you admired fictions much more horrible and ugly, why is this character, even as fiction, It does not find you for mercy? Oh, not because there, that there is more truth, than you would want to?..
You say, that the morality of it does not win? excuse me. Pretty people fed sweets; them from this spoiled stomach: necessary bitter medicine, caustic truths. But do not think, but, thereafter, to the author of this book was ever proud dream of a reformer of human vices. God it to get rid of this ignorance! He just was fun to draw a modern man, as he understands it, and, to him, and your unhappiness, too often I met. Will order, that the disease is listed, and how to cure it - it's so god knows!

Part one


I rode on the chaise from Tiflis. All my luggage carts consisted of one small suitcase, which was half full of travel notes about Georgia. FoŕMost of the ones, Fortunately for you, lost, and suitcase, with other things, Fortunately for me, He remained intact.
Oh, the sun began to hide behind a snow ridge, when I entered the Valley Koyshaurskuyu. Ossetian-cabby drove tirelessly horses, to catch up to the night to climb the Mount Koyshaurskuyu, and in all throat singing songs. Nice place, this valley! From all sides of the mountain unapproachable, reddish rocks, hung with green ivy and crowned with clumps of plane trees, yellow cliffs, striated washouts, and there is sky-high golden fringe of snow, and below Aragva, embracing another nameless river, noisy breaking free from black, full gloom of the gorge, stretches and sparkles with silver thread, his snake scales.
When he reached the base of Mount Koyshaurskoy, We stopped at a tavern. There crowded noisy score of Georgians and mountaineers; Nearby camel caravan stopped for the night. I had to hire a bull, to drag my cart on this damn mountain, because it was already autumn and sleet, - and this mountain has a length of about two miles.
Nothing to do, I hired six oxen and several Ossetians. One of them hoisted itself on the shoulders of my suitcase, others began to help the bulls almost a shout.
Behind my trolley Four bulls dragged another, matter-of-factly, despite, that it was up to the top loser. This fact surprised me. Behind her was her boss, smoking from a small tube Kabardian, fashioned in silver. It was the officer sertuk without epaulets and a shaggy Circassian cap. He seemed fifty years; dark complexion of his show, that they have long been familiar with the Transcaucasian sun, and premature graying mustache matched his gait strong and brisk mind. I went to him and bowed; He silently replied to me on the bow and put a huge cloud of smoke.
- You and I Travel, it seems?
is he, silently, He bowed again.
- You are coming true in Stavropol?
- So with exactly ... with the official stuff.
- Say, you are welcome, why is it that your four bull heavy truck pulling a joke, and my empty six beasts hardly motivate the using these Ossetians?
He smiled slyly and much looked at me.
- You are right recently in the Caucasus?
- From year, - I answered.
He smiled a second time.
- And what?
- Yes, so with! Terrible beast, these Asians! you think, They are helping, that cry? The devil will disassemble them, they shout? Bulls somehow understand them; harnessed at least twenty, so if they shout in their own way, Bulls still do not move ... Terrible cheats! What take with them?.. Like the money to fight the passing ... spoiled for scam: see, they are you will be charged for vodka. Oh, I know them, I do not hold.
- Have you been here to serve?
- Yes, I really served here under Aleksei Petrovich,1 - he answered, assume a dignified air. - When he came on the line,2 I was a second lieutenant, - he added,, - and when it received two orders for the cases against the Highlanders.
- And now you?..
- is now considered the third line battalion. And you, may I ask?..
I told him.
The conversation came to an end this, and we continued to walk silently beside each other. On top of the mountain we found snow. Sun zakatilosʹ, and night followed day without interval, as it usually happens in the south; but thanks to the ebb of snow we could easily distinguish the road, which still went up the hill, although it was not as cool. I told her to put the suitcase in the truck, replace bulls and horses for the last time looked down into the valley, - but a dense fog, surging waves of the gorges, She covered her completely, and no sound did not reach from there to our ears. Ossetians noisy surrounded me and demanded vodka; but the captain so menacingly at them shouted, they suddenly fled.
- It sort of people, - he said: - and bread in Russian can not be called, and I learned: "the officer, give a tip!"Oh, I'd better Tatars: even those non-drinking ...
The station was still a mile. All was quiet, so quiet, that the buzzing of a mosquito could follow his flight. Left blackened deep gorge, behind him and in front of us a dark blue mountain peaks, pitted wrinkles, covered with layers of snow, were painted in a pale sky, still retains the last gleam of dawn. The dark sky began flickering stars, and strange, it seemed to me, they are much higher, than we have in the north. On both sides of the road stuck out naked, black stones; here and there out of the snow bushes peeping, but none of the dry leaf had not moved, and it was fun to hear that among the dead sleep of nature snort tired postal triples and uneven jingle bell Russian.
- Tomorrow will be nice weather, - I said. Captain answered not a word, and pointed finger at me on a high mountain, rises directly in front of us.
- What's this? - I asked.
- Mount Hood.
- Well, what?
- Look, both smoked.
Indeed, Mount Hood smoked; on the sides of her crawling light wisps of clouds, and on top lay a black cloud, so black, that the dark sky it seemed spot.
We have already distinguished post station, roof surrounding huts, and in front of us flashed lights Privetnoye, when I smelt damp, cold wind, gorge buzzed, and went to the small rain. I barely had time to throw a cloak, both threw snow. I looked with awe at the Captain ...
- We'll have to spend the night here, - he said with annoyance: - in a snowstorm across the mountains do not move in. what? L were landslides on the Cross? - he asked a cab.
- Did not have, Mr., - posted-carter Ossetians: - a lot of hanging, a lot.
For lack of room for passing on the station, We took the night in a smoky hut. I invited his companion to drink with a glass of tea, For me it was a cast-iron kettle - only joy in my travels through the Caucasus.
Hut was pasted one side to the rock; three slippery, wet steps led up to her door. I got groped and stumbled upon a cow (barn, these people replace menial). I did not know, where to go: then bleating sheep, there is grumbling dog. Fortunately, aside flashed dim light and helped me find another opening like a door. Then I opened the picture is quite entertaining: wide hut, whose roof rested on two pillars sooty, It was full of people. In the middle of the flame crackled, spread out on the ground, and smoke, expelled back wind from the opening in the roof, I stretched around a thick shroud, that I could not look; the fire sat two old women, many children and one lean Georgian, all in tatters. There was nothing to do, we were sheltered by the fire, We lit our pipes, and soon the kettle hissed friendly.
- Miserable people! - I said the staff-captain, indicating our dirty hosts, who silently looked at us in a certain stupefaction.
- Preglupy people, - he answered. - Would you believe it, not do anything, not able to no education! Oh, at least our Kabardians Chechens or even robbers, shingle, but desperate Baska, and these weapons and there is no hunting: decent dagger on either will not see. Oh truly Ossetians!
- And you have long been in Chechnya?
- Yes, I stood there for ten years in a fortress with rotoyu, the Stone Brod,3 you know?
- Heard.
- Here, father, bothered us these thugs; now, thank God, smirnee, and it happened, a hundred paces depart the shaft, already somewhere hairy devil sits and watches: just gape, that and look - a noose around his neck, a bullet in the nape. A well done!..
- BUT, tea, a lot of you were adventurous? - I said, spurred on by curiosity.
- as there is no! Sometimes ...
Then he began to pluck left mustache, He hung his head and pondered. I like the fear out of him some istoriyku - desire, characteristic of all the traveling and recording people. Meanwhile ripened tea, I pulled out of the suitcase, two hiking cup, He poured and placed one in front of him. He took a sip and said, as though to himself,: "Yes, happened!"It gave me an exclamation of great expectations. I know, old Caucasians like to talk, porasskazat; they are so rarely succeed: another five years worth somewhere in the boondocks with a company, and the whole five years, he says no one hello (because the sergeant-major says Good morning). And it would be to talk about: people around the wild, curious, daily danger, cases are wonderful, and then inevitably be sorry about, that we have so little written.
- Would you like some rum podbavit? - I said to my companion: - I have a white Tiflis; is now cold.
- No with, and thank you, I do not drink.
- With so?
- Oh. I gave myself a curse. When I was a second lieutenant, time, you know, we will be far from good to one another, and at night I make trouble; so we went to frunt tipsy, Yeah, and we got, Alexei Petrovich learned: God forbid, he was angry! A little bit not to prosecute. It accurately, Another time, a whole year living, nobody can see, but how can we even vodka - propadshy man.
On hearing this, I almost lost hope.
- Why, though Circassians, - he continued: - how to get drunk buzy4 at a wedding or a funeral, and I went felling. I just barely feet please make, and another in peacefullýIsland Prince was gostyah.5
- How did this happen?
- Here (He filled his pipe, I tightened and began to tell), - vot please see, I then stood in the fort beyond the Terek with a company - it will soon five years. Time, autumn, Transportation came with provisions; He was an officer in the transport, a young man of twenty-five. He came to me in full uniform, and announced, that he was told to stay in my castle. He was so thin, Belenky, it was a brand new uniform, I guessed at once, that he was in the Caucasus, we have recently. "You are right, - I asked him,: - moved here from Russia?"-" Just, Mr. Captain ", - he answered. I took his hand and said,: "Very glad, very glad. You will be a little bit boring, Well, yes we are going to live in a friendly way. Yes, you are welcome, call me Maxim Maksimych, and please - what this long form? Come to me, always wearing a cap ". He took an apartment, and he dwelt in a fortress.
- What was his name? - I asked Maxim Maksimych.
- His name is ... Grigory Alexandrovich Pechorin. Glorious was small, I dare to assure you; Only a little bit strange. After all, eg, in the rain, in the cold, all day on the hunt, all be pinched with cold, ustanut, - and it's nothing. And the other just sits in his room, wind pahnot, assures, that cold; shutter banging, he will shake and turn pale; and when I went to the boar alone; happened, for hours on end you can not get a word, but sometimes too when he begins to talk, so nadorvesh bellies with laughter. Yes, with, large was strange, and must be a rich man: how he had various expensive gizmos!..
- A long time he lived with you? - I asked again.
- Yes to the year. Well Yeah but I remembered this year; He has done me the hassle, not by whether people will remember! After all, there, right, sort of people, who was born to, that should happen with them various extraordinary things.
- Unusual? - I cried with curiosity views, pouring his tea.
- But I'll tell you. Six miles from the castle lived a peacefuĺand Prince. his son, a boy of about fifteen, I got into the habit to us to drive. Every day something happened to it, to another; and certainly we have spoiled it with Grigory. And what was the thug, agile on what you want: whether to raise the cap on full gallop, of whether to shoot a gun. One thing was it wrong: terribly fond of was the money. Time, for a laugh, Grigori promised to give him a ducat, if he steals his best goat from his father's herds; and what do you think? On the next night dragged him by the horns. BUT, happened, we tease pleases, so the eyes and blood poured, and now for the knife. "Hey, citizen, not to demolish your head, - I spoke to him: - Yaman will be your noggin!»6
Once he comes to the old prince to call us to the wedding: he gave the elder daughter married, and we were with him kunaks: so you can not, you know, refuse, even though he was a Tartar. departed. In the village we met a lot of dogs barking. Women, uvidya us, hiding; they, which we could see in his face, It was not so beautiful. "I had a much better opinion of Circassian", - said to me, Grigory. «Shoot», - I answered, laughing. I had my mind.
Princes in the hut had already gathered a lot of people. Asians, you know, custom all counterclaims and cross-invite to the wedding. We were welcomed with all the honors, and led to kunatskuyu. I, however, not forgotten to notice, where to put our horses, you know, for unforeseen event.
- How did they celebrate their wedding? - I asked the captain.
- Yes, usually. First the mullah reads them something from the Koran, then give young and all of their relatives, are eating, drink buzu, then begins dzhigitovka, and is always some ragamuffin, greasy, the defilement, lame nag, breaks down, clown around, laugh honestlýth company; then, when smerknetsya, in kunatskoy begins, we say, ball. Poor starichishka strumming a three-jet ... forgot, both in their language ... well,, yes like our balalaika. Girls and young boys are in two rows, one against another, They clap their hands and sing. Here comes one of the girls and one man in the middle, and begin to talk to each other sing-song verses, horrible, and the rest picked up by a chorus. We sat Pechorin place of honor, and that's a smaller daughter of the owner came to him, a girl of sixteen, and sang to him ... how to say?Congenital compliment ....
- And what is she sang, remember??
- Yes, it seems, like this: "Slim, say, Our young horsemen, and coats them with silver lined, a young Russian officer slimmer them, and the braid on it gold. He is like a poplar among them; just do not grow, it does not bloom in our garden ". Pechorin rose, bowed, putting his hand to his forehead and heart, and he asked me to answer her; I am well aware of their language, and translated his answer.
When she moved away from us, Then I whispered to Grigori Alexandrovich: "Well, What is the?»
- The beauty! - he answered: - What is her name? - "Her name Beloyu", - I answered.
And just, it was good: high, thin, eyes black, like a mountain chamois, and looked into your soul. Pechorin in thought did not take his eyes off her, and she often glanced askance at him. Just not one Petchorin admired the pretty princess: from the corner of the room looked at her other two eyes, stationary, fire. I peered and recognized my old acquaintance he Kazbicha.7, you know, It was not that I was peacefullýand, not that I do not peacefullýand. I suspected he had a lot, though he in no mischief was not seen. Used to, he brought to us in sheep fortress and sold cheaply, just never traded: that asks, come on, - even slaughter, will not yield. We spoke about him, he likes to hang for Kuban with Abrekov,8 and, tell the truth, mug he was the robber: little, dry, broad ... And something clever, agile something was, as the devil. Beshmet always torn, a patch, and arms of silver. A horse of his glory in the whole Kabardia, - and just, This horse has nothing better to invent impossible. No wonder he envied all the riders and not just trying to steal, Only failed. As it is now I look at this horse: crow, pitch, legs - Slim, and the eyes are not worse, than in Bela; and what power! Ride at least for 50 miles; and only leaving - as a dog runs after the host, voice even know it! Used to, He it never ties. Oh, this horse bandit!..
This evening was gloomy Kazbich, than ever, and I noticed, that under his beshmet wearing chain mail. "No wonder it this mail, - I thought,: - so it is true that some plotting ".
Stuffy was in Saclay, and I went to freshen the air. Night so went to the mountains, and the mist began to wander through the gorges.
I choose to wrap the shed, where our horses stood, look, if they have any food, and, moreover, caution never hurts: I have also been a nice horse, and certainly not one Kabardian looked at her fondly, saying,: the axiom, check Yakshi! 9
Wade along the fence, and suddenly I heard voices; one voice I immediately recognized: it was a playboy Azamat, son of our master; another spoke less and quieter. "What they interpret? - I thought,: - it's not about whether my horse?"Here I sat down at the fence and began to listen, trying not to miss a single word. Sometimes the noise of songs and the voice says, flying out of the hut, drowned interesting for me to talk.
- Nice horse you! - Azamat govorïl: - If I was the owner of the house and had a herd of three hundred mares, he would give half of your horse, Kazbich!
"BUT, Kazbich!"- I thought and remembered the coat of mail.
- Yes, - Kazbich replied after a pause: - in the whole Kabardia not find a. Time, - it was beyond the Terek, - I went to Abrekov beat Russian herds; We were not lucky enough, and we were scattered, who where. For me, rushed four Cossack; since I heard him screaming for the infidels, and in front of me was a thick forest. I lay down on the saddle, He entrusted himself to God, and for the first time in my life insulted the horse lashes. Like a bird he dived between branches; sharp thorns tore my clothes, dry twigs karagacha10 hit me in the face. My horse jumping over the stumps, burst breast bushes. It would be better to throw it to me at the edge of the forest and hide in the woods on foot, yes it was a pity to part with it, - and the Prophet rewarded me. Several bullets squealed over my head; I've already heard, as the dismounted Cossacks fled in the wake of a sudden in front of me ... deep pothole; my horse thoughtful - and jumped. Back his hooves were cut off from the shore to the contrary, and he hung on the front legs; I dropped the reins, and flew into a ravine; it saved my horse; he jumped. The Cossacks saw all this, Only none of them went to look for me: they surely thought, I was killed to death, and I heard, they rushed to catch my horse. My heart bled; I crawled through the thick grass along the ravine, - look: forest ended, some Cossacks go out of it into the clearing, and now jumps directly to them my Karagöz;11 all rushed to him with a cry; long, long they chased him, especially one twice very nearly threw his lasso the neck; I trembled, He lowered his eyes and began to pray. A few moments later I raise them - and see: my Karagöz flies, waving tail, free as the wind, Giaours and far, one after another stretch of the steppe to the exhausted horses. Vallejo! It's true, gospel truth! Until late at night, I sat in my gully. Suddenly, what do you think, citizen? In the darkness I hear, runs along the bank of the ravine horse, snorts, neighs and beats the ground with their hooves; I recognized the voice of my Karagöz: it was he, my comrade!.. Since then we have not separated.
And you could hear, he flapped his hand over the smooth neck of his horse, giving him the name of various tender.
- If I had a herd of a thousand mares, - said Azamat, - I would have given it to you all for your Karagöz.
- Yok ,12 I do not want, - she replied indifferently Kazbich.
- Listen, Kazbich, - spoke, caressing him, citizen: - you are a kind person, you are a brave horseman, and my father is afraid of Russian, and not let me into the mountains; Give me your horse, and I will do everything, What do you want, steal for you my father better than his rifle or saber - only wish; and sword his real gourde:13 Apply your blade to the arm, she would stick to the body; such as mail, like your, overweening.
Kazbich silent.
- The first time I saw your horse, - Azamat prodoljal: - when it is under you spinning and jumping, nostrils, and silicon splashes flying out from under its hooves, in my mind to do something incomprehensible, and since then me weary: on the best horses of my father I looked with contempt, it was a shame they seem to me, and a longing came over me; and, yearning, I sat on a cliff all day, and every minute of my thoughts was the crow's your horse with its graceful gait, with its smooth, straight as an arrow Ridge; He looked me in the eyes of his brisk eyes, as if to say a word. I will die, Kazbich, if you did not sell it! - said Azamat in a trembling voice.
I heard, he cried: and I must tell you, that Azamat was the boy preupryamy, and nothing, happened, he had no tears vybesh, even when he was younger and.
In response to his tears he heard something like a laugh.
- Listen! - she said in a firm voice Azamat: - see, I dare all. want, I steal my sister for you? As she dances! How to sing! A embroider gold, miracle! It never was a wife and a Turkish sultan ... Want? Wait for me tomorrow night there, in the gorge, where the stream runs: I'll go with her to a nearby village by, - and it's yours. Really not worth your horse Bella?
Long, long pause Kazbich; finally, instead of answering,, he struck up an old song in a low voice:14

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Mikhail Lermontov
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  1. Angel

    In Kration it was impossible