Princess Mary summary
The chapter “Princess Mary” by Lermontov is included in the second part of the cycle “Hero of Our Time,” written in 1840. The story described in the story is presented in the form of the diary of the main character - the scandalous heartthrob, officer Pechorin. We recommend reading online a summary of “Princess Mary” by dates , which will be useful when preparing for a literature lesson.
The main characters are Grigory Aleksandrovich Pechorin - a Russian officer, an intelligent, satiated, bored young man. Princess Mary is a beautiful, well-educated girl. Vera is a young woman with whom Pechorin was previously in love. Grushnitsky is a cadet, a handsome, slender, narcissistic young man. Other characters Princess Ligovskaya is a noble lady from Moscow, forty-five years old, Mary’s mother. Werner is a doctor, a good friend of Pechorin.
Summary
May 11 Having arrived in Pyatigorsk and rented an apartment, Pechorin went for a walk, where he met a fellow cadet Grushnitsky. He said that only Princess Ligovskaya and her young daughter Mary were of greatest interest in the city. It was clear that Grushnitsky was not indifferent to the girl.
May 13 From Doctor Werner, who entered the Ligovskys’ house, Pechorin learned that among those present there was some relative of noble ladies - “blonde, with regular features” and a mole on her cheek. Hearing this, Pechorin shuddered - in this portrait he recognized “one woman whom he loved in the old days.” On May 16 , Pechorin met the same blonde with a mole. She turned out to be a young noble lady named Vera, with whom Pechorin had an affair in the past. Vera said that for the sake of her son’s well-being, she married a rich, sick old man for the second time. Passion flared up again between the former lovers, and Pechorin promised Vera to “drag after the princess in order to divert attention from her.”
On May 21 , Pechorin was waiting for the right opportunity to get closer to the Ligovskys. Having learned that a ball would take place, he decided to “dance the mazurka with the princess” all evening.
On May 22, Pechorin kept his promise, and at the ball he did not leave Mary’s side. In addition, he protected her from the advances of a drunken officer, which caused a wave of gratitude from the princess and princess.
On May 23, Grushnitsky was worried that the princess had lost her former interest in him. At a reception with the Ligovskys, Vera admitted to Pechorin that she was very sick, but all her thoughts were occupied only with him.
May 29 All these days, Pechorin “never once deviated from his system.” He carefully watched Mary's reaction and noticed that she was completely tired of Grushnitsky.
On June 3 , Pechorin reflected on why he persistently sought “the love of a young girl” whom he did not even intend to seduce. His thoughts were interrupted by Grushnitsky, who shared the good news - he had been promoted to officer. The young man hoped that now it would be easier for him to win the princess’s heart.
On June 4 , Vera tortured Pechorin with her jealousy of the princess. She asked him to follow her to Kislovodsk and rent an apartment nearby. The Ligovskys were also supposed to come there over time.
June 5 At the ball, Grushnitsky planned to defeat Mary with his new infantry uniform. However, the girl was frankly bored in his company. Pechorin began to entertain the princess, which caused a wave of indignation among Grushnitsky.
June 6 The next morning “Vera left with her husband for Kislovodsk.” Pechorin sought to meet her alone, because “love, like fire, goes out without food.”
June 7 From his friend Werner, Pechorin learned that rumors about his imminent wedding with the princess began to spread in the city. He realized that this was the work of the jealous Grushnitsky. The next morning Pechorin went to Kislovodsk.
June 10 In Kislovodsk, Pechorin often met Vera at the spring. A cheerful company led by Grushnitsky also appeared in the city, which regularly organized brawls in the tavern.
June 11 The Ligovskys arrived in Kislovodsk, and Pechorin immediately noticed that the princess was especially gentle with him. This seemed like a bad sign to him.
June 12 This evening “was full of incidents.” During a horseback ride, Mary confessed her love to Pechorin, but he did not react to the confession, which brought the girl out of balance. Returning home, the hero became an unwitting witness to the vile conspiracy that Grushnitsky’s friends were organizing against him. They encouraged the young officer to challenge Pechorin to a duel, but not to load the pistols. Pechorin “did not sleep all night,” and in the morning he admitted to the princess that he did not love her at all.
On June 14 , Pechorin explained that his “insurmountable aversion to marriage” is explained by the words of a fortune teller who predicted to his mother the death of her son from an evil wife.
On June 15 , Pechorin managed to organize a secret meeting with Vera. They had to get out of her bedroom using knitted shawls. Having barely touched the ground, Pechorin found himself in a trap set by Grushnitsky’s cronies. Only by miracle did he manage to fight back and run home.
June 16 The next day, Grushnitsky publicly accused Pechorin of visiting the princess’s chambers at night. The hero challenged the young man to a duel, and asked Doctor Werner to be his second. After negotiations with Grushnitsky, Werner made a guess - the friends planned to “load one of Grushnitsky’s pistols with a bullet,” turning the duel into a real murder. In the duel, the first shot went to Grushnitsky, who intentionally only slightly scratched his opponent’s knee. Pechorin exposed their conspiracy and demanded that his pistol be reloaded. He shot at Grushnitsky and killed him.
Arriving home, Pechorin found Vera's letter. She wrote that she confessed everything to her husband, and he hastened to take her away from Kislovodsk. Pechorin “jumped out onto the porch like crazy,” mounted his horse and drove it after the carriage. But the already tired horse could not withstand the mad race and died in the middle of the steppe. Pechorin fell to the ground and “cryed bitterly, not trying to hold back his tears and sobs.”
Having come to his senses, the hero returned home, where his explanation with Mary took place. He advised the girl to simply despise him, and then he bowed dryly and left. Rumors about the duel harmed Pechorin, who received an order to immediately go to fortress N. Having arrived at the place, he tried to analyze his life, but came to the conclusion that “quiet joys and peace of mind” were incompatible with his rebellious nature.
Conclusion Lermontov's work reveals the theme of the “superfluous man”, which Pechorin is represented by. A constant feeling of boredom makes him a cold, insensitive person, unable to appreciate either someone else's or his own life.
After reading the brief retelling of “Princess Mary,” we recommend reading the story in its full version.
Princess Mary
* * *
Today I got up late;
I come to the well - no one is there anymore. It was getting hot; white shaggy clouds quickly fled from the snowy mountains, promising a thunderstorm; Mashuk's head was smoking like an extinguished torch; Around him, gray wisps of clouds curled and crawled like snakes, detained in their quest and as if caught in the thorny bushes. The air was filled with electricity. I went deeper into the grape alley leading to the grotto; I was sad. I thought about that young woman with a mole on her cheek that the doctor told me about... Why is she here? And is she? And why do I think it's her? and why am I even so sure of this? Are there not enough women with moles on their cheeks? Thinking in this way, I approached the grotto itself. I look: in the cool shadow of its arch, a woman sits on a stone bench, wearing a straw hat, wrapped in a black shawl, with her head bowed on her chest; the hat covered her face. I was about to return so as not to disturb her dreams when she looked at me. - Faith! – I screamed involuntarily.
She shuddered and turned pale.
“I knew you were here,” she said. I sat down next to her and took her hand. A long-forgotten thrill ran through my veins at the sound of that sweet voice; she looked into my eyes with her deep and calm eyes; they expressed distrust and something similar to reproach.
“We haven’t seen each other for a long time,” I said.
- It’s been a long time, and both have changed in many ways!
- So you don’t love me?..
- I'm married! - she said.
- Again? However, several years ago this reason also existed, but meanwhile...
She pulled her hand away from mine, and her cheeks burned.
– Maybe you love your second husband?..
She didn't answer and turned away.
– Or is he very jealous?
Silence.
- Well? He’s young, good-looking, especially rich, I’m sure, and you’re afraid...” I looked at her and got scared; her face expressed deep despair, tears sparkled in her eyes.
“Tell me,” she finally whispered, “do you have a lot of fun torturing me?” I should hate you. Since we have known each other, you have given me nothing but suffering...” Her voice trembled, she leaned towards me and lowered her head on my chest.
“Maybe,” I thought, “that’s why you loved me: joys are forgotten, but sorrows are never…”
I hugged her tightly, and we stayed like that for a long time. Finally, our lips came closer and merged into a hot, rapturous kiss; her hands were cold as ice, her head was burning. Then one of those conversations began between us that on paper makes no sense, which cannot be repeated and cannot even be remembered: the meaning of sounds replaces and complements the meaning of words, as in Italian opera.
She absolutely does not want me to meet her husband - that lame old man whom I glimpsed on the boulevard: she married him for her son. He is rich and suffers from rheumatism. I did not allow myself a single mockery of him: she respects him as a father, and will deceive him as a husband... A strange thing is the human heart in general, and a woman’s in particular!
Vera's husband, Semyon Vasilyevich G...v, is a distant relative of Princess Ligovskaya. He lives next to her; Vera often visits the princess; I gave her my word to get acquainted with the Ligovskys and to pursue the princess in order to divert attention from her. Thus, my plans have not been upset at all, and I will have fun...
Fun!.. Yes, I have already passed that period of spiritual life when one seeks only happiness, when the heart feels the need to love someone strongly and passionately - now I only want to be loved, and then by very few; Even it seems to me that one constant attachment would be enough for me: a pathetic habit of the heart!..
However, it has always been strange to me: I have never become the slave of the woman I love; on the contrary, I always acquired invincible power over their will and heart, without even trying to do so. Why is this? - Is it because I never value anything very much and that they were constantly afraid to let me out of their hands? or is it the magnetic influence of a strong organism? Or have I simply never met a woman with a tenacious character?
I must admit that I definitely don’t like women with character: is it any of their business!..
True, now I remember: once, only once, I loved a woman with a strong will, whom I could never defeat... We parted as enemies - and then, perhaps, if I had met her five years later, we would have parted differently...
Vera is sick, very sick, although she doesn’t admit it, I’m afraid that she might have consumption or that disease that is called fievre lente - the disease is not Russian at all, and it has no name in our language.
A thunderstorm caught us in the grotto and kept us there for an extra half hour. She did not force me to swear allegiance, did not ask if I had loved others since we parted... She trusted me again with the same carelessness - I will not deceive her; she is the only woman in the world whom I would not be able to deceive. I know that we will soon be separated again and, perhaps, forever: we will both go different ways to the grave; but the memory of her will remain inviolable in my soul; I always repeated this to her and she believes me, although she says the opposite.
Finally we parted; I followed her with my gaze for a long time until her hat disappeared behind the bushes and rocks. My heart sank painfully, as after the first parting. Oh, how I rejoiced at this feeling! Is it really youth with its beneficial storms that wants to return to me again, or is this just her farewell glance, the last gift as a keepsake?.. And it’s funny to think that I still look like a boy: my face is pale, but still fresh; members are flexible and slender; Thick curls curl, eyes burn, blood boils...
Returning home, I sat on horseback and galloped off into the steppe; I love to ride a hot horse through the tall grass, against the desert wind; I greedily swallow the fragrant air and direct my gaze into the blue distance, trying to catch the foggy outlines of objects that are becoming clearer and clearer every minute. Whatever grief lies on the heart, whatever anxiety torments the thought, everything will dissipate in a minute; the soul will become light, the fatigue of the body will overcome the anxiety of the mind. There is no female gaze that I would not forget at the sight of curly mountains illuminated by the southern sun, at the sight of the blue sky or listening to the sound of a stream falling from cliff to cliff.
I think the Cossacks, yawning on their towers, seeing me jumping without need or purpose, were tormented for a long time by this riddle, because, probably, based on my clothes, they mistook me for a Circassian. In fact, they told me that in a Circassian costume on horseback I look more like a Kabardian than many Kabardians. And indeed, as far as this noble combat clothing is concerned, I am a perfect dandy: not a single galloon to spare; a valuable weapon in simple decoration, the fur on the cap is not too long, not too short; the leggings and booties are fitted with all possible precision; white beshmet, dark brown cherkeska. I studied mountain riding for a long time: nothing can flatter my pride more than by recognizing my skill in horse riding in the Caucasian style. I keep four horses: one for myself, three for my friends, so that it won’t be boring to trudge through the fields alone; they take my horses with pleasure and never ride with me. It was already six o'clock in the afternoon when I remembered that it was time for dinner; my horse was exhausted; I drove out onto the road leading from Pyatigorsk to the German colony, where the water society often goes en piquenique[6]. The road goes on, meandering between bushes, descending into small ravines, where noisy streams flow under the canopy of tall grasses; all around rise like an amphitheater the blue masses of Beshtu, Snake, Iron and Bald Mountains. Having descended into one of these ravines, called beams in the local dialect, I stopped to water my horse; at that time a noisy and brilliant cavalcade appeared on the road: ladies in black and blue riding habits, gentlemen in costumes that were a mixture of Circassian and Nizhny Novgorod; Grushnitsky rode ahead with Princess Mary.
The ladies on the waters still believe in Circassian attacks in broad daylight; This is probably why Grushnitsky hung a saber and a pair of pistols on top of his soldier’s overcoat: he was quite funny in this heroic attire. A tall bush blocked me from them, but through its leaves I could see everything and guess from the expressions on their faces that the conversation was sentimental. Finally they approached the descent; Grushnitsky took the reins of the princess’s horse, and then I heard the end of their conversation:
– And you want to stay in the Caucasus your whole life? - said the princess.
– What is Russia to me! - answered her gentleman, - a country where thousands of people, because they are richer than me, will look at me with contempt, whereas here - here this thick overcoat did not interfere with my acquaintance with you...
“On the contrary...” said the princess, blushing.
Grushnitsky's face showed pleasure. He continued:
“Here my life will pass noisily, imperceptibly and quickly, under the bullets of savages, and if God sent me every year one bright female look, one like that...
At this time they caught up with me; I hit the horse with the whip and rode out from behind the bush...
– Mon Dieu, un Circassien!..[7] – the princess screamed in horror.
To completely dissuade her, I answered in French, bending slightly:
– Ne craignez rien, madame, – je ne suis pas plus dangereux que votre cavalier[8].
She was embarrassed, but why? because of my mistake or because my answer seemed impudent to her? I would like my last assumption to be correct. Grushnitsky threw a dissatisfied look at me.
Late in the evening, that is, around eleven o’clock, I went for a walk along the linden alley of the boulevard. The city was asleep, only lights flickered in some windows. On three sides there were black crests of cliffs, the branches of Mashuk, on the top of which lay an ominous cloud; the month rose in the east; In the distance, snowy mountains sparkled like silver fringes. The shouts of the sentries were interspersed with the noise of hot springs being released for the night. Sometimes the sonorous clatter of a horse could be heard along the street, accompanied by the creaking of a Nagai cart and a mournful Tatar chorus. I sat on the bench and thought... I felt the need to pour out my thoughts in a friendly conversation... but with whom? “What is Vera doing now?” - I thought... I would give a lot to shake her hand at that moment.
Suddenly I hear fast and uneven steps... That's right, Grushnitsky... That's right!
- Where?
“From Princess Ligovskaya,” he said very importantly. - How Mary sings!..
– Do you know what? - I told him, - I bet she doesn’t know that you are a cadet; she thinks you're demoted...
- May be! What do I care!.. - he said absentmindedly.
- No, I’m just saying it this way...
“Do you know that you made her terribly angry today?” She found this to be unheard of impudence; I could forcefully assure her that you were so well brought up and knew the world so well that you could not have the intention of offending her; she says that you have an insolent look, that you probably have the highest opinion of yourself.
- She’s not wrong... Don’t you want to stand up for her?
- I’m sorry that I don’t have this right yet...
"Wow! – I thought, “he apparently already has hopes...”
“However, it’s worse for you,” continued Grushnitsky, “now it’s difficult for you to get to know them, which is a pity!” this is one of the nicest houses I know...
I smiled internally.
“The most pleasant house for me is now mine,” I said, yawning, and got up to go.
- However, admit it, do you repent?..
- What nonsense! if I want, I’ll be with the princess tomorrow evening...
- Let's see…
“Even to please you, I’ll start chasing after the princess...”
- Yes, if she wants to talk to you...
- I’ll only wait for the moment when she gets bored with your conversation... Goodbye!..
- And I’ll go staggering - I’ll never fall asleep now... Listen, let’s better go to the restaurant, there’s a game there... I need strong sensations today...
- I wish you to lose...
I am going home.
May 21st
Almost a week has passed, and I have not yet met the Ligovskys. I'm waiting for an opportunity. Grushnitsky, like a shadow, follows the princess everywhere; their conversations are endless: when will she get bored with him?.. The mother does not pay attention to this, because he is not the groom. This is the logic of mothers! I noticed two or three tender glances - we need to put an end to this.
Yesterday Vera appeared at the well for the first time... Since we met in the grotto, she has not left the house. We lowered our glasses at the same time, and, leaning over, she said to me in a whisper:
– Don’t you want to meet the Ligovskys?.. We can only see each other there...
Reproach! boring! But I deserve it...
By the way: tomorrow there is a subscription ball in the restaurant hall, and I will dance with the princess’s mazurka.
May 22
The restaurant hall turned into the hall of the Noble Assembly. At nine o'clock everyone arrived. The princess and her daughter appeared from the last; many ladies looked at her with envy and hostility, because Princess Mary dresses with taste. Those who consider themselves local aristocrats, hiding their envy, joined her. What should I do? Where there is a society of women, the upper and lower circles will now appear there. Under the window, in the crowd of people, Grushnitsky stood, pressing his face to the glass and not taking his eyes off his goddess; She, passing by, barely nodded her head at him. He shone like the sun...
The dancing began in Polish; then they started playing a waltz. The spurs rang, the coattails rose and began to spin.
I stood behind a fat lady covered in pink feathers; the splendor of her dress was reminiscent of the times of figs, and the variegation of her unsmooth skin was reminiscent of the happy era of black taffeta flies. The largest wart on her neck was covered with a clasp. She said to her gentleman, the dragoon captain:
- This Princess Ligovskaya is an unbearable girl! Imagine, she pushed me and didn’t apologize, and even turned around and looked at me through her lorgnette... C`est impayable!..[9] And what is she proud of? She really needs to be taught a lesson...
– This won’t be the case! - answered the helpful captain and went to another room.
I immediately approached the princess, inviting her to waltz, taking advantage of the freedom of local customs, which allow me to dance with unfamiliar ladies.
She could hardly force herself not to smile and hide her triumph; She managed, however, quite quickly to assume a completely indifferent and even stern look: she casually laid her hand on my shoulder, tilted her head slightly to the side, and we set off. I don’t know a more voluptuous and flexible waist! Her fresh breath touched my face; sometimes a curl, separated from its comrades in the whirlwind of the waltz, slid along my burning cheek... I made three rounds. (She waltzes surprisingly well). She was out of breath, her eyes were dim, her half-open lips could barely whisper the necessary: “Merci, monsieur”[10].
After several minutes of silence, I said to her, assuming the most submissive look:
“I heard, princess, that, being a complete stranger to you, I already had the misfortune of earning your disfavor... that you found me impudent... is this really true?
“And you would now like to confirm me in this opinion?” - she answered with an ironic grimace, which, however, suits her active face very well.
- If I had the audacity to offend you in some way, then allow me to have even greater audacity to ask for your forgiveness... And, really, I would really like to prove to you that you were wrong about me...
- It will be quite difficult for you...
- From what?
- Because you don’t come to us, and these balls probably won’t be repeated often.
“This means,” I thought, “that their doors are forever closed to me.”
“You know, princess,” I said with some annoyance, “one should never reject a repentant criminal: out of despair he can become twice as criminal... and then...”
The laughter and whispering of those around us forced me to turn around and interrupt my sentence. A few steps away from me stood a group of men, and among them was a captain of dragoons, who expressed hostile intentions against the dear princess; He was especially very pleased with something, rubbed his hands, laughed and winked at his comrades. Suddenly a gentleman in a tailcoat with a long mustache and a red face separated from their midst and directed his unsteady steps straight towards the princess: he was drunk.
Stopping in front of the embarrassed princess and putting his hands behind his back, he fixed his dull gray eyes on her and said in a hoarse dishkant:
- Permete...[11] well, what’s that!.. I’m just inviting you to a mazurka...
-What do you want? – she said in a trembling voice, casting pleading glances around. Alas! her mother was far away, and none of the gentlemen she knew were nearby; one adjutant, it seems, saw all this, but hid behind the crowd so as not to be mixed up in the story.
- What? - said the drunken gentleman, winking at the dragoon captain, who was encouraging him with signs, - wouldn’t you like it?.. Again, I have the honor of engaging you pour mazure... [12] Maybe you think that I’m drunk? This is nothing!.. Much freer, I can assure you...
I saw that she was ready to faint from fear and indignation.
I went up to the drunken gentleman, took him quite firmly by the hand and, looking intently into his eyes, asked him to leave - because, I added, the princess had long ago promised to dance the mazurka with me.
- Well, there’s nothing to do!.. another time! - he said, laughing, and retired to his ashamed comrades, who immediately took him into another room.
I was rewarded with a deep, wonderful look.
The princess went up to her mother and told her everything, she found me in the crowd and thanked me. She told me that she knew my mother and was friends with half a dozen of my aunts.
“I don’t know how it happened that we still don’t know you,” she added, “but admit it, it’s your fault alone: you’re so shy of everyone that it’s unlike anything else.” I hope the air in my living room will clear up your spleen... doesn't it?
I told her one of those phrases that everyone should have prepared for such a case.
The quadrilles took an awfully long time.
Finally the mazurka thundered from the choir; The princess and I sat down.
I never hinted about the drunken gentleman, or about my previous behavior, or about Grushnitsky. The impression made on her by the unpleasant scene gradually dissipated; her face blossomed; she joked very nicely; her conversation was sharp, without pretense of sharpness, lively and free; her remarks are sometimes deep... I made her feel with a very confusing phrase that I have liked her for a long time. She tilted her head and blushed slightly.
– You are a strange person! – she said later, raising her velvet eyes to me and laughing forcedly.
“I didn’t want to get to know you,” I continued, “because you are surrounded by too dense a crowd of admirers, and I was afraid to completely disappear in it.”
– You were afraid in vain! They are all boring...
- All! Is that all?
She looked at me intently, as if trying to remember something, then she blushed slightly again and finally said decisively: that’s it!
- Even my friend Grushnitsky?
- Is he your friend? – she said, showing some doubt.
- Yes.
- He certainly doesn’t fall into the category of boring...
“But in the category of unfortunates,” I said laughing.
- Certainly! Is it funny to you? I wish you were in his place...
- Well? I was once a cadet myself, and, truly, this is the best time of my life!
“Is he really a cadet?” she said quickly and then added: “And I thought...”
- What did you think?..
- Nothing!.. Who is this lady?
Here the conversation changed direction and never returned to it.
The mazurka ended, and we said goodbye - goodbye. The ladies left... I went to dinner and met Werner.
- A-ha! - he said, - that’s how you are! And they also wanted to get to know the princess in no other way than by saving her from certain death.
“I did better,” I answered him, “I saved her from fainting at the ball!”
- Like this? Tell me!..
- No, guess, - oh, you who guess everything in the world!
May 23rd
At about seven o'clock in the evening I was walking on the boulevard. Grushnitsky, seeing me from afar, came up to me: some kind of funny delight shone in his eyes. He shook my hand firmly and said in a tragic voice:
- Thank you, Pechorin... Do you understand me?..
- No; “But, in any case, it’s not worth gratitude,” I answered, not exactly having any good deed on my conscience.
- How? but yesterday? Have you forgotten?.. Mary told me everything...
- And what? Do you really have everything in common now? and gratitude?..
“Listen,” said Grushnitsky very importantly, “please don’t make fun of my love if you want to remain my friend... You see: I love her madly... and I think, I hope, she loves me too... I have a request for you.” : you will be with them this evening... promise me to notice everything; I know you are experienced in these things, you know women better than me... Women! women! who will understand them? Their smiles contradict their gazes, their words promise and beckon, but the sound of their voice repels... Either in a minute they comprehend and guess our most secret thought, then they do not understand the clearest hints... For example, the princess: yesterday her eyes glowed with passion, stopping at me , nowadays they are dim and cold...
“This may be a consequence of the action of the waters,” I answered.
– You see the bad side in everything... a materialist! he added contemptuously. “However, let’s change the matter,” and, pleased with the bad pun, he became amused.
At nine o'clock we went together to the princess.
Passing by Vera's windows, I saw her at the window. We glanced at each other briefly. She soon after us entered the Ligovskys’ living room. The princess introduced me to her as her relative. Drank tea; there were many guests; the conversation was general. I tried to please the princess, joked, made her laugh heartily several times; The princess also wanted to laugh more than once, but she restrained herself so as not to step out of her accepted role; she finds that languor is coming to her - and, perhaps, she is not mistaken. Grushnitsky seems to be very glad that my gaiety does not infect her.
After tea everyone went into the hall.
“Are you satisfied with my obedience, Vera?” - I said, walking past her.
She gave me a look filled with love and gratitude. I'm used to these looks; but once they were my bliss. The princess sat her daughter down at the piano; everyone asked her to sing something - I was silent and, taking advantage of the turmoil, went to the window with Vera, who wanted to tell me something very important for both of us... It turned out - nonsense...
Meanwhile, the princess was annoyed by my indifference, as I could guess from one angry, brilliant look... Oh, I amazingly understand this conversation, silent but expressive, brief but strong!..
She began to sing: her voice is not bad, but she sings poorly... however, I did not listen. But Grushnitsky, leaning on the piano opposite her, devoured her with his eyes and constantly said in an undertone: “Charmant! delicieux!”[13]
“Listen,” Vera told me, “I don’t want you to meet my husband, but the princess must definitely like you; It’s easy for you: you can do whatever you want. We will only see each other here...
- Only?..
She blushed and continued:
– You know that I am your slave; I never knew how to resist you... and I will be punished for this: you will stop loving me! At least I want to save my reputation... not for myself: you know this very well!.. Oh, I ask you: do not torment me as before with empty doubts and feigned coldness: I may soon die, I feel that I am weakening day by day... and despite this, I cannot think about the future life, I only think about you. You men do not understand the pleasures of a glance, a squeeze of a hand, but I, I swear to you, listening to your voice, I feel such a deep, strange bliss that the hottest kisses cannot replace it.
Meanwhile, Princess Mary stopped singing. A murmur of praise sounded around her; I approached her after everyone else and said something to her about her voice rather casually.
“I’m all the more flattered,” she said, “since you didn’t listen to me at all; but perhaps you don’t like music?..
– On the contrary... especially after lunch.
- Grushnitsky is right when he says that you have the most prosaic tastes... and I see that you love gastronomic music...
– You are mistaken again: I am not a gastronomy at all: I have a very nasty stomach. But music puts you to sleep after dinner, and sleep after dinner is great: therefore, I love music in a medical sense. In the evening, on the contrary, it irritates my nerves too much: I either feel too sad or too happy. Both are tiresome when there is no positive reason to be sad or happy, and, moreover, sadness in society is ridiculous, and too much gaiety is indecent...
She didn’t listen to the end, walked away, sat down next to Grushnitsky, and some kind of sentimental conversation began between them: it seems that the princess answered his wise phrases rather absent-mindedly and unsuccessfully, although she tried to show that she was listening to him with attention, because he sometimes looked at her with surprise, trying to guess the reason for the inner unrest that was sometimes depicted in her restless gaze...
But I guessed you right, dear princess, beware! You want to repay me in the same coin, to prick my pride, but you won’t succeed! and if you declare war on me, then I will be merciless.
Throughout the evening, I deliberately tried several times to interfere in their conversation, but she greeted my comments rather dryly, and I finally left with feigned annoyance. The princess was triumphant, and so was Grushnitsky. Triumph, my friends, hurry up... you won’t have long to triumph!.. What to do? I have a presentiment... When meeting a woman, I always unmistakably guessed whether she would love me or not...
I spent the rest of the evening near Vera and talked to my heart's content about old times... Why she loves me so much, I really don’t know! Moreover, this is one woman who understood me completely, with all my petty weaknesses, bad passions... Is evil really so attractive?..
We went out together with Grushnitsky; on the street he took me by the arm and after a long silence said:
- Well?
“You’re stupid,” I wanted to answer him, but I resisted and just shrugged.
May 29th
All these days I have never deviated from my system. The princess begins to like my conversation; I told her some of the strange incidents of my life, and she begins to see in me an extraordinary person. I laugh at everything in the world, especially at feelings: it starts to scare her. She does not dare to indulge in sentimental debates with Grushnitsky in front of me and has already responded to his antics several times with a mocking smile; but every time Grushnitsky approaches her, I take on a humble look and leave them alone; the first time she was happy about it or tried to show it; in the second, she was angry with me, in the third, with Grushnitsky.
-You have very little self-esteem! – she told me yesterday. - Why do you think that I have more fun with Grushnitsky?
I answered that I was sacrificing my friend’s happiness with my pleasure...
“And mine,” she added.
I looked at her intently and looked serious. Then he didn’t say a word to her all day... In the evening she was thoughtful, this morning at the well she is even more thoughtful; when I approached her, she was absentmindedly listening to Grushnitsky, who seemed to be admiring nature, but as soon as she saw me, she began to laugh (very inappropriately), showing that she did not notice me. I walked away and secretly began to watch her: she turned away from her interlocutor and yawned twice.
Decidedly, she was tired of Grushnitsky.
I won't talk to her for another two days.
June 3rd
I often ask myself why I am so persistent in seeking the love of a young girl whom I do not want to seduce and whom I will never marry? Why this female coquetry? Vera loves me more than Princess Mary will ever love me; if she seemed to me an invincible beauty, then perhaps I would have been attracted by the difficulty of the enterprise... But it didn’t happen at all! Consequently, this is not that restless need for love that torments us in the first years of youth, throws us from one woman to another until we find one who cannot stand us: here begins our constancy - a true endless passion, which can be mathematically expressed by a line , falling from a point into space; the secret of this infinity lies only in the impossibility of achieving the goal, that is, the end.
Why am I bothering? Out of envy of Grushnitsky? Poor thing, he doesn't deserve her at all. Or is it a consequence of that nasty but invincible feeling that makes us destroy the sweet delusions of our neighbor, in order to have the petty pleasure of telling him, when he asks in despair what he should believe: “My friend, the same thing happened to me, and you you see, however, I have lunch, dinner and sleep peacefully and, I hope, I will be able to die without screaming and tears!
But there is immense pleasure in possessing a young, barely blossoming soul! She is like a flower whose best fragrance evaporates towards the first ray of the sun; you need to pick it up at this moment and, after breathing it to your heart’s content, throw it on the road: maybe someone will pick it up! I feel this insatiable greed within me, devouring everything that comes my way; I look at the sufferings and joys of others only in relation to myself, as food that supports my spiritual strength. I myself am no longer capable of going mad under the influence of passion; My ambition was suppressed by circumstances, but it manifested itself in a different form, for ambition is nothing more than a thirst for power, and my first pleasure is to subordinate to my will everything that surrounds me; to arouse feelings of love, devotion and fear - isn’t this the first sign and the greatest triumph of power? To be the cause of suffering and joy for someone, without having any positive right to do so - isn’t this the sweetest food of our pride? What is happiness? Intense pride. If I considered myself better, more powerful than everyone else in the world, I would be happy; if everyone loved me, I would find endless sources of love in myself. Evil begets evil; the first suffering gives the concept of pleasure in tormenting another; the idea of evil cannot enter a person’s head without him wanting to apply it to reality: ideas are organic creatures, someone said: their birth already gives them a form, and this form is an action; the one in whose head more ideas were born acts more than others; because of this, a genius chained to an official desk must die or go crazy, just as a man with a powerful physique, with a sedentary life and modest behavior, dies of an apoplexy. Passions are nothing more than ideas in their first development: they belong to the youth of the heart, and he is a fool who thinks to worry about them all his life: many calm rivers begin with noisy waterfalls, but not one jumps and foams all the way to the sea. But this calmness is often a sign of great, although hidden strength; the fullness and depth of feelings and thoughts does not allow frantic impulses; the soul, suffering and enjoying, gives itself a strict account of everything and is convinced that it should be so; she knows that without thunderstorms the constant heat of the sun will dry her out; she is imbued with her own life - she cherishes and punishes herself like a beloved child. Only in this highest state of self-knowledge can man appreciate the justice of God.
Re-reading this page, I notice that I have been far distracted from my subject... But what is the need?.. After all, I am writing this journal for myself, and, therefore, everything that I throw into it will, over time, be a precious memory for me.
