A Hero Of Our Time (World's classics) by Mikhail Lermontov

Author:Mikhail Lermontov [Lermontov, Mikhail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC019000
ISBN: 9781590209561
Publisher: The Overlook Press
Published: 2009-01-16T06:00:00+00:00

Grushnitski with his gang, every day, carouses at the tavern, and hardly nods to me.

He arrived only yesterday,113 and has already managed to quarrel with three old men who wanted to take their baths before him: definitely —misfortunes develop in him a martial spirit.

June 11th

They have come at last. I was sitting by the window when I heard the rattle of their coach: my heart quivered … What is it then? Could it be that I am in love? … I am so stupidly made that this could be expected from me.

I have dined at their house. The old princess looks at me very tenderly and does not leave her daughter’s side … That’s bad! On the other hand, Vera is jealous of the young princess—this is a nice state of things I have brought about! What will not a woman do in order to vex a rival? I remember one woman who fell in love with me, because I was in love with another. There is nothing more paradoxical than a woman’s mind: it is difficult to convince women of anything; you have to bring them to a point where they will convince their own selves. The sequence of proofs by means of which they overcome their prejudices, is very original: to learn their dialectic, one must overturn in one’s mind all the school rules of logic. Here, for instance, is the normal method:

That man loves me; but I am married: consequently, I must not love him.114

Now for the feminine method:

I must not love him for I am married; but he loves me—consequently… .

Here come several dots, for reason does not say anything more, and what speaks mainly, is the tongue, the eyes, and in their wake, the heart, if die latter exists.

What if these notes should ever fall under a woman’s eyes? “Slander!” she will cry with indignation.

Ever since poets have been writing and women reading them (for which they should receive the deepest gratitude), they have been called angels so many times, that in the simplicity of their souls, they have actually believed this compliment, for getting that the same poets dubbed Nero a demigod, for money.

It is not I who should speak of women with such spite—I, who love nothing in the world save them— I, who have always been ready to sacrifice to them peace of mind, ambition, life. But then, it is not in a fit of annoyance and offended vanity that I try to tear from diem that magic veil, through which only an experienced gaze penetrates. No, all that I am saying about them is only a result of

The mind’s cold observations,

The mournful comments of the heart.115

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