146 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER. 



sang to him what shall I call it ? a sort of compli- 

 ment. 



L. But the words, the words, do you happen to 

 remember them ? 



M. Well, I believe they were something to this 

 effect : " Beautiful, in truth, are our young zhighit 

 dancers, and their caftans are richly adorned with sil- 

 ver ; but the young Russian officer is more beautiful 

 than they, and his laces are of gold. He towers 

 among them like a poplar, but it is not his destiny to 

 grow and flourish in our garden." Petchorin rose and 

 bowed, laying his hand on his forehead and his breast, 

 and requested me to reply for him. I knew their lan- 

 guage very well, and translated his answer. 



When the girl had left us, I whispered my comrade, 

 " Well, what say you now ? What do you think of 

 that girl ?" " Charming !" he exclaimed ; " what is 

 her name ?" " Her name is Bela," I answered. And 

 beautiful indeed she was ! tall, slender, with eyes as 

 black as the gazelle's, that seemed to look into your 

 very soul. Petchorin, completely captivated, never 

 took his eyes off her, and she frequently shot a stolen 

 glance upon him from beneath her jetty eyelashes. 

 But Petchorin was not the only one whose gaze was 

 riveted on the lovely princess : there was another pair 

 of eyes in the corner of the room, that glared upon 

 her incessantly, with passionate fire. I looked sharply 

 that way, and recognized my old acquaintance, Kas- 



