From what motive,then,am I taking all this trouble?--Envy of Grushnitski?Poor fellow!
He is quite undeserving of it.Or,is it the result of that ugly,but invincible,feeling which causes us to destroy the sweet illusions of our neighbour in order to have the petty satisfaction of saying to him,when,in despair,he asks what he is to believe:
"My friend,the same thing happened to me,and you see,nevertheless,that I dine,sup,and sleep very peacefully,and I shall,I hope,know how to die without tears and lamentations."There is,in sooth,a boundless enjoyment in the possession of a young,scarce-budded soul!It is like a floweret which exhales its best perfume at the kiss of the first ray of the sun.You should pluck the flower at that moment,and,breathing its fragrance to the full,cast it upon the road:
perchance someone will pick it up!I feel within me that insatiate hunger which devours everything it meets upon the way;I look upon the sufferings and joys of others only from the point of view of their relation to myself,regarding them as the nutriment which sustains my spiritual forces.I myself am no longer capable of committing follies under the influence of passion;with me,ambition has been repressed by circumstances,but it has emerged in another form,because ambition is nothing more nor less than a thirst for power,and my chief pleasure is to make everything that surrounds me subject to my will.To arouse the feeling of love,devotion and awe towards oneself --is not that the first sign,and the greatest triumph,of power?To be the cause of suffering and joy to another --without in the least possessing any definite right to be so --is not that the sweetest food for our pride?
And what is happiness?--Satisfied pride.Were I to consider myself the best,the most powerful man in the world,I should be happy;were all to love me,I should find within me inexhaustible springs of love.Evil begets evil;the first suffering gives us the conception of the satis-faction of torturing another.The idea of evil cannot enter the mind without arousing a desire to put it actually into practice."Ideas are organic entities,"someone has said.The very fact of their birth endows them with form,and that form is action.He in whose brain the most ideas are born accomplishes the most.From that cause a genius,chained to an official desk,must die or go mad,just as it often happens that a man of powerful constitution,and at the same time of sedentary life and simple habits,dies of an apoplectic stroke.
Passions are naught but ideas in their first development;they are an attribute of the youth of the heart,and foolish is he who thinks that he will be agitated by them all his life.Many quiet rivers begin their course as noisy waterfalls,and there is not a single stream which will leap or foam throughout its way to the sea.That quiet-ness,however,is frequently the sign of great,though latent,strength.The fulness and depth of feelings and thoughts do not admit of frenzied outbursts.In suffering and in enjoyment the soul renders itself a strict account of all it experiences and convinces itself that such things must be.It knows that,but for storms,the constant heat of the sun would dry it up!It imbues itself with its own life --pets and punishes itself like a favourite child.It is only in that highest state of self-knowledge that a man can appreciate the divine justice.
On reading over this page,I observe that I have made a wide digression from my subject...
But what matter?...You see,it is for myself that I am writing this diary,and,consequently anything that I jot down in it will in time be a valuable reminiscence for me.
.....
Grushnitski has called to see me to-day.He flung himself upon my neck;he has been pro-moted to be an officer.We drank champagne.
Doctor Werner came in after him.
"I do not congratulate you,"he said to Grushnitski.
"Why not?"
"Because the soldier's cloak suits you very well,and you must confess that an infantry uniform,made by one of the local tailors,will not add anything of interest to you...Do you not see?Hitherto,you have been an exception,but now you will come under the general rule.""Talk away,doctor,talk away!You will not prevent me from rejoicing.He does not know,"added Grushnitski in a whisper to me,"how many hopes these epaulettes have lent me...
Oh!...Epaulettes,epaulettes!Your little stars are guiding stars!No!I am perfectly happy now!""Are you coming with us on our walk to the hollow?"I asked him.
"I?Not on any account will I show myself to Princess Mary until my uniform is finished.""Would you like me to inform her of your happiness?""No,please,not a word...I want to give her a surprise"...
"Tell me,though,how are you getting on with her?"He became embarrassed,and fell into thought;he would gladly have bragged and told lies,but his conscience would not let him;and,at the same time,he was ashamed to confess the truth.
"What do you think?Does she love you?"...
"Love me?Good gracious,Pechorin,what ideas you do have!...How could she possibly love me so soon?...And a well-bred woman,even if she is in love,will never say so"...
"Very well!And,I suppose,in your opinion,a well-bred man should also keep silence in regard to his passion?"...
"Ah,my dear fellow!There are ways of doing everything;often things may remain unspoken,but yet may be guessed"...
"That is true...But the love which we read in the eyes does not pledge a woman to any-thing,whilst words...Have a care,Grush-nitski,she is befooling you!"
"She?"he answered,raising his eyes heaven-ward and smiling complacently."I am sorry for you,Pechorin!"...
He took his departure.
In the evening,a numerous company set off to walk to the hollow.
