About four hours afterwards Petchorin came back from hunting. Bela threw herself on his neck; and not one word of complaint did she utter, not one word of reproach for his long absence. But for my part, I could not help expostulating with him. ‘For God’s sake,’ said I, ‘only think! Kasbitch was just now on the other side of the stream, and we fired at him: it was the greatest chance that you did not fall in with him. These Gorzans are a vindictive race. You fancy he has no suspicion that you abetted Asamat. I will lay you a bet he recognized Bela. I know he took a great liking to her a year ago: he told me so himself; and also, that, when he should have raised the means to make her father the necessary presents, he would probably become her suitor.’ This made Petchorin thoughtful. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we must be more cautious. Bela, from this day forth, you must not show yourself on the ramparts.’
I had a long explanation with him in the evening. I was vexed at his change of conduct towards the poor girl: for, besides his spending half his time in field-sports, his behaviour was cold, he seldom showed her marks of fondness, and she was manifestly beginning to fall away in flesh: her little face became smaller, and her large eyes grew dim. If he asked her, ‘What ails you Bela; are you fretting?’ she would answer, ‘No.’ ‘Is there any thing you wish for?’ ‘No.’ ‘Are you grieving for your brother and sister?’ ‘I have no brother and sister.’ It often happened that for whole days together you could not get a word out of her, but yes and no.
Kasbitch did not show himself again; only I could not get it out of my head, that he had not come to the fort for nothing, and that he had some mischief in view.
One day it chanced that Petchorin prevailed on me, to accompany him to hunt the boar. I had refused for a long while; the sport, indeed, was any thing but new to me, and offered me no temptation. He forced me, however, to go with him; so we set out early in the morning, taking with us an escort of five soldiers. We beat about the bushes and the grass, till ten o’clock, but started no game. ‘I think we had better go home,’ said I; ‘what is the good of stopping here? This is plainly no lucky day.’ But in spite of heat and fatigue, Gregorii Alexandrovitch would not go back empty handed. That was just his way: whatever he took into his head, must be: it was easy to see his mother had made a spoiled pet of him in his childhood. At last about noon we discovered a boar—bang! bang!—but it would not do; the boar made for the bulrushes, and escaped; the day was decidedly an unlucky one. After we had rested, and taken breath a little, we set out on our way home.
We rode side by side in silence, with our reins slackened, and had nearly reached the fort, which was only concealed from our view by the copse. Suddenly we heard a shot. We looked in each other’s faces: the same suspicion flashed upon us both: we galloped headlong in the direction of the fort, and saw a group of soldiers on the ramparts; they pointed towards the open country, and there sped a horseman with the swiftness of an arrow, holding something white before him on the saddle bow. Gregorii Alexandrovitch gave a loud screech, that the very best Tchetchenz could not have beaten, whipped out his rifle from the case, and away with him, myself following.
Fortunately, as our sporting had not been lucky, our horses were still fresh; they cleared the ground at a great rate, and every moment brought us nearer and nearer to the object of our pursuit. At last I recognized Kasbitch; only I could not make out what it was he carried before him. I was now again alongside of Petchorin, and called out to him that it was Kasbitch. He cast a look at me, nodded, and lashed his horse.
At last we were but a rifle shot from the robber. Whether it was that Kasbitch’s horse was fatigued, or that it was worse than ours, at any rate, he did not make good way. I warrant he thought of his Karagos at that moment.
Looking round at Petchorin, I saw him present his rifle while galloping at full speed. ‘No firing!’ I shouted to him; ‘reserve your charge, we will catch him yet.’ But such is youth; it never gives fire at the right moment. The shot went off whilst I was speaking, and the ball struck the horse in the hind leg; it still kept on for a few paces, stumbled, and fell on its knees. Kasbitch was instantly on his feet, and now we saw that he had a female closely muffled up in his grasp. It was Bela—poor Bela! He shouted something to us in his own language, and raised his dagger to strike. There was no time to be lost, I fired almost at random, and thought for certain I had hit him in the shoulder, for his arm instantly, fell. When the smoke had cleared away, there lay the wounded horse on the ground, and Bela beside it; but Kasbitch, throwing away his rifle among the bushes, clambered up the rocks like a cat. What would I not have given to bring him down thence with a ball! but both our pieces were discharged. We sprang from our horses and rushed to Bela. Poor creature, she lay motionless, with the blood gushing from her wound. What a miscreant! Had he even stabbed her to the heart—at least it would have been all over at once—but in the back! it was a genuine robber’s stroke. She was insensible: we tore up her veil, and stanched the wound as well as we could: in vain Petchorin kissed her cold lips—nothing could bring her back to consciousness.
Petchorin mounted; I lifted her from the ground, and placed her carefully before him on the saddle; he put his arm round her, and we rode back to the fort. We sent for the surgeon; he was rather drunk, but he came; and having examined the wound, he told us she could not live two days. He was wrong however—