Dear guests, come to the table.”

We sat down to dinner. Vasilisa Yegorovna was never silent for a minute and bombarded me with questions: who were my parents, were they living, where did they live, how big was their estate? When she heard that my father had three hundred serfs she said: “Just fancy! to think of there being rich people in the world! And we, my dear, have only one maid, Palasha, but we are comfortable enough, thank heaven. The only trouble is Masha ought to be getting married, and all she has by way of dowry is a comb and a broom and a brass farthing, just enough to go to the baths with. If the right man turns up, all well and good, but, if not, she will die an old maid.”

I glanced at Marya Ivanovna; she flushed crimson and tears dropped into her plate. I felt sorry for her and hastened to change the conversation.

“I have heard,” I said, rather inappropriately, “that the Bashkirs propose to attack your fortress.”

“From whom have you heard it, my good sir?” Ivan Kuzmich asked.

“I was told it at Orenburg,” I answered.

“Don’t you believe it!” said the Commandant. “We have not heard anything of it for years. The Bashkirs have been scared and the Kirghiz, too, have had their lesson. No fear, they won’t attack us; and if they do I will give them such a fright that they will keep quiet for another ten years.”

“And you are not afraid,” I continued, turning to Vasilisa Yegorovna, “to remain in a fortress subject to such dangers?”

“It’s a habit, my dear,” she answered. “Twenty years ago when we were transferred here from the regiment, I cannot tell you how I dreaded those accursed infidels! As soon as I saw their lynx caps and heard their squealing, my heart stood still, would you believe it! And now I have grown so used to it that I don’t stir when they tell us the villains are prowling round the fortress.”

“Vasilisa Yegorovna is a most courageous lady,” Shvabrin remarked pompously. “Ivan Kuzmich can bear witness to it.”

“Yes; she is not of the timid sort, let me tell you!” Ivan Kuzmich assented.

“And Marya Ivanovna? Is she as brave as you are?” I asked.

“Is Masha brave?” her mother answered. “No, Masha is a coward. She can’t bear even now to hear a rifle shot; it makes her all of a tremble. And when, two years ago, Ivan Kuzmich took it into his head to fire our cannon on my name-day, she nearly died of fright, poor dear. Since then we haven’t fired the cursed cannon anymore.”

We got up from the table. The Captain and his wife went to lie down, and I went to Shvabrin’s and spent the whole evening with him.

IV
THE DUEL

Oh, very well, take up then your position

And you shall see me pierce your body through.

KNYAZHNIN

SEVERAL WEEKS had passed and my life in the Belogorsky fortress had grown not merely endurable but positively pleasant. I was received in the Commandant’s house as one of the family. The husband and wife were most worthy people. Ivan Kuzmich, who had risen from the ranks to be an officer, was a plain and uneducated man, but most kind and honorable. His wife ruled him, which suited his easygoing disposition. Vasilisa Yegorovna looked upon her husband’s military duties as her own concern and managed the fortress as she did her own home. Marya Ivanovna soon lost her shyness with me and we became friends. I found her to be a girl of feeling and good sense. Imperceptibly I grew attached to the kind family, and even to Ivan Ignatyich, the one-eyed lieutenant of the garrison; Shvabrin had said of him that he was on improper terms with Vasilisa Yegorovna, though there was not a semblance of truth in it; but Shvabrin did not care about that.

I received my commission. My military duties were not strenuous. In our blessed fortress there were no parades, no drills, no sentry duty. Occasionally the Commandant, of his own accord, taught the soldiers, but had not yet succeeded in teaching all of them to know their left hand from their right. Shvabrin had several French books. I began reading and developed a taste for literature. In the mornings I read, practiced translating, and sometimes composed verses; I almost always dined at the Commandant’s and spent there the rest of the day; in the evenings, Father Gerasim and his wife, Akulina Pamfilovna, the biggest gossip in the neighborhood, sometimes came there also. Of course I saw Alexey Ivanych Shvabrin every day, but his conversation grew more and more distasteful to me as time went on.