Vulich went into the other room and sat by the table;we all followed him.With a sign he invited us to sit round him.We obeyed in silence --at that moment he had acquired a certain mysterious authority over us.I stared fixedly into his face;but he met my scrutinising gaze with a quiet and steady glance,and his pallid lips smiled.But,notwithstanding his composure,it seemed to me that I could read the stamp of death upon his pale countenance.Ihave noticed --and many old soldiers have cor-roborated my observation --that a man who is to die in a few hours frequently bears on his face a certain strange stamp of inevitable fate,so that it is difficult for practised eyes to be mistaken.
"You will die to-day!"I said to Vulich.
He turned towards me rapidly,but answered slowly and quietly:
"May be so,may be not."...
Then,addressing himself to the major,he asked:
"Is the pistol loaded?"
The major,in the confusion,could not quite remember.
"There,that will do,Vulich!"exclaimed somebody."Of course it must be loaded,if it was one of those hanging on the wall there over our heads.What a man you are for joking!""A silly joke,too!"struck in another.
"I wager fifty rubles to five that the pistol is not loaded!"cried a third.
A new bet was made.
I was beginning to get tired of it all.
"Listen,"I said,"either shoot yourself,or hang up the pistol in its place and let us go to bed.""Yes,of course!"many exclaimed."Let us go to bed.""Gentlemen,I beg of you not to move,"said Vulich,putting the muzzle of the pistol to his forehead.
We were all petrified.
"Mr.Pechorin,"he added,"take a card and throw it up in the air."I took,as I remember now,an ace of hearts off the table and threw it into the air.All held their breath.With eyes full of terror and a certain vague curiosity they glanced rapidly from the pistol to the fateful ace,which slowly descended,quivering in the air.At the moment it touched the table Vulich pulled the trigger ...a flash in the pan!
"Thank God!"many exclaimed."It wasn't loaded!""Let us see,though,"said Vulich.
He cocked the pistol again,and took aim at a forage-cap which was hanging above the window.
A shot rang out.Smoke filled the room;when it cleared away,the forage-cap was taken down.
It had been shot right through the centre,and the bullet was deeply embedded in the wall.
For two or three minutes no one was able to utter a word.Very quietly Vulich poured my ducats from the major's purse into his own.
Discussions arose as to why the pistol had not gone off the first time.Some maintained that probably the pan had been obstructed;others whispered that the powder had been damp the first time,and that,afterwards,Vulich had sprinkled some fresh powder on it;but Imaintained that the last supposition was wrong,because I had not once taken my eyes off the pistol.
"You are lucky at play!"I said to Vulich...
"For the first time in my life!"he answered,with a complacent smile."It is better than 'bank'and 'shtoss.'"Card-games.
"But,on the other hand,slightly more dangerous!""Well?Have you begun to believe in pre-destination?
"I do believe in it;only I cannot understand now why it appeared to me that you must inevitably die to-day!"And this same man,who,such a short time before,had with the greatest calmness aimed a pistol at his own forehead,now suddenly fired up and became embarrassed.
"That will do,though!"he said,rising to his feet."Our wager is finished,and now your observations,it seems to me,are out of place."He took up his cap and departed.The whole affair struck me as being strange --and not without reason.Shortly after that,all the officers broke up and went home,discussing Vulich's freaks from different points of view,and,doubt-less,with one voice calling me an egoist for having taken up a wager against a man who wanted to shoot himself,as if he could not have found a convenient opportunity without my intervention.
I returned home by the deserted byways of the village.The moon,full and red like the glow of a conflagration,was beginning to make its appear-ance from behind the jagged horizon of the house-tops;the stars were shining tranquilly in the deep,blue vault of the sky;and I was struck by the absurdity of the idea when I recalled to mind that once upon a time there were some exceed-ingly wise people who thought that the stars of heaven participated in our insignificant squabbles for a slice of ground,or some other imaginary rights.And what then?These lamps,lighted,so they fancied,only to illuminate their battles and triumphs,are burning with all their former brilliance,whilst the wiseacres themselves,to-gether with their hopes and passions,have long been extinguished,like a little fire kindled at the edge of a forest by a careless wayfarer!But,on the other hand,what strength of will was lent them by the conviction that the entire heavens,with their innumerable habitants,were looking at them with a sympathy,unalterable,though mute!...
And we,their miserable descendants,roaming over the earth,without faith,without pride,without enjoyment,and without terror --except that involuntary awe which makes the heart shrink at the thought of the inevitable end --we are no longer capable of great sacrifices,either for the good of mankind or even for our own happiness,because we know the impossibility of such happiness;and,just as our ancestors used to fling themselves from one delusion to another,we pass indifferently from doubt to doubt,without possessing,as they did,either hope or even that vague though,at the same time,keen enjoyment which the soul encounters at every struggle with mankind or with destiny.
