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THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER. 167 



may be sure they will not leave it alone. Many a 

 thing may be of no use to them, but they steal it for 

 all that. Besides he had long had a fancy for the girl. 



L. And Bela died ? 



M. She died ; but she suffered long, and we also 

 with her. She became conscious again about ten, 

 that night. We were sitting by her bedside. The 

 moment she opened her eyes, she called for Petchorin. 

 " Here I am, my zhaneshka" (my little soul), he said, 

 taking her hand in his. " I shall die," she said. We 

 began to comfort her, and told her the surgeon had 

 promised for certain he would bring her round. She 

 shook her head, and turned her face to the wall : she 

 was loath to die. 



During the night she began to be delirious ; her 

 head burned, and feverish shiverings repeatedly con- 

 vulsed her frame. She spoke, in disjointed phrases, 

 of her father and her brother ; she would go to the 

 mountains, to her home. Then she talked of Pet- 

 chorin, calling him by all sorts of endearing names, 

 or upbraiding him for having ceased to love his 

 zhaneshka. 



Well, well ! it was a good thing she died ; for what 

 would have become of her, had Petchorin forsaken 

 her ? It would certainly have come to that, soon or 

 late. One thing, I confess, particularly distressed me : 

 she never once uttered my name before she died ; and 

 yet I am sure I loved her like a father. Well, God 



