“No, guess!—O, you who guess everything in the world!”
CHAPTER VI. 30th May.
ABOUT seven o’clock in the evening, I was walking on the boulevard. Grushnitski perceived me a long way off, and came up to me. A sort of ridiculous rapture was shining in his eyes. He pressed my hand warmly, and said in a tragic voice:
“I thank you, Pechorin... You understand me?”
“No; but in any case it is not worth gratitude,” I answered, not having, in fact, any good deed upon my conscience.
“What? But yesterday! Have you forgotten?... Mary has told me everything”...
“Why! Have you everything in common so soon as this? Even gratitude?”...
“Listen,” said Grushnitski very earnestly; “pray do not make fun of my love, if you wish to remain my friend... You see, I love her to the point of madness... and I think—I hope—she loves me too... I have a request to make of you. You will be at their house this evening; promise me to observe everything. I know you are experienced in these matters, you know women better than I... Women! Women! Who can understand them? Their smiles contradict their glances, their words promise and allure, but the tone of their voice repels... At one time they grasp and divine in a moment our most secret thoughts, at another they cannot understand the clearest hints... Take Princess Mary, now: yesterday her eyes, as they rested upon me, were blazing with passion; to-day they are dull and cold”...
“That is possibly the result of the waters,” I replied.