On hearing this I nearly lost hope.

"Take even the Circassians," he went on, "as soon as they drink their fill of booza

"How did it happen?"

"Well," he filled and lit his pipe, took a long pull on it, and began the story, "you see, I was stationed at the time at a fort beyond the Terek with a company-that was nearly five years back. Once in the fall a supply convoy came up, and with it an

"What was his name?" I asked Maksim Maksimich.

"Grigoriy Aleksandrovich Pechorin. A fine man he was, I assure you, though a bit odd. For instance, he would spend days on end hunting in rain or cold-everybody else would be chilled and exhausted, but not he. Yet sometimes a mere draft in his room would be enough for him to declare he had caught cold-a banging shutter might make him jump and turn pale, yet I myself saw him go at a wild boar single-handed. Sometimes you couldn't get a word out of him for hours on end, but when he occasionally did start telling stories you'd split your sides laughing... Yes, sir, a most odd sort of young man he was, and, apparently, rich too, judging by the load of expensive trinkets he had."

"How long was he with you?" I asked.

"Just about a year. But it was a year I won't forget. He caused me plenty of trouble, God forgive him!-though that's not what I remember about him. But after all, there are people who, when they are born, the big book of life has it already written down that all sorts of amazing things will happen to them!"

"Amazing things?" I exclaimed eagerly as I poured him some more tea.

"I'll tell you the story. Some four miles from the fort there lives a loyal prince. His son, a boy of about fifteen, got into the habit of riding over to see us. Not a day passed that he didn't come for one reason or another. Grigoriy Aleksandrovich and I really spoiled him.