a；　then　the　dance　on　horse…　back；　and　there　is　always　some　ragamuffin；　bedaubed　with　grease；　bestriding　a　wretched；　lame　jade；　and　grimacing；　buffooning；　and　making　the　worshipful　company　laugh。　　Finally；　when　darkness　falls；　they　proceed　to　hold　what　we　should　call　a　ball　in　the　guest…chamber。　　A　poor；　old　greybeard　strums　on　a　three…stringed　in…　strument　　I　forget　what　they　call　it；　but　anyhow；　it　is　something　in　the　nature　of　our　balalaika。＇1＇　　The　girls　and　young　children　set　themselves　in　two　ranks；　one　opposite　the　other；　and　clap　their　hands　and　sing。　　Then　a　girl　and　a　man　come　out　into　the　centre　and　begin　to　chant　verses　to　each　other　　whatever　comes　into　their　heads　　and　the　rest　join　in　as　a　chorus。　Pechorin　and　I　sat　in　the　place　of　honour。　　All　at　once　up　came　our　host's　youngest　daughter；　a　girl　of　about　sixteen；　and　chanted　to　Pechorin　　how　shall　I　put　it？　　something　in　the　nature　of　a　compliment。〃　。　。　。
  ＇1＇　A　kind　of　two…stringed　or　three…stringed　guitar。
  〃What　was　it　she　sang　　do　you　remember？〃
  〃It　went　like　this；　I　fancy：　'Handsome；　they　say；　are　our　young　horsemen；　and　the　tunics　they　wear　are　garnished　with　silver；　but　handsomer　still　is　the　young　Russian　officer；　and　the　lace　on　his　tunic　is　wrought　of　gold。　　Like　a　poplar　amongst　them　he　stands；　but　in　gardens　of　ours　such　trees　will　grow　not　nor　bloom！'
  〃Pechorin　rose；　bowed　to　her；　put　his　hand　to　his　forehead　and　heart；　and　asked　me　to　answer　her。　　I　know　their　language　well；　and　I　translated　his　reply。
  〃When　she　had　left　us　I　whispered　to　Grigori　Aleksandrovich：
  〃'Well；　now；　what　do　you　think　of　her？'
  〃'Charming！'　he　replied。　　'What　is　her　name？'
  〃'Her　name　is　Bela；'　I　answered。
  〃And　a　beautiful　girl　she　was　indeed；　her　figure　was　tall　and　slender；　her　eyes　black　as　those　of　a　mountain　chamois；　and　they　fairly　looked　into　your　soul。　　Pechorin；　deep　in　thought；　kept　his　gaze　fixed　upon　her；　and　she；　for　her　part；　stole　glances　at　him　often　enough　from　under　her　lashes。　　Pechorin；　however；　was　not　the　only　one　who　was　admiring　the　pretty　princess；　another　pair　of　eyes；　fixed　and　fiery；　were　gazing　at　her　from　the　corner　of　the　room。　　I　took　a　good　look　at　their　owner；　and　recognised　my　old　acquaintance　Kazbich；　who；　you　must　know；　was　neither　exactly　'friendly'　nor　yet　the　other　thing。　　He　was　an　object　of　much　suspicion；　although　he　had　never　actually　been　caught　at　any　knavery。　　He　used　to　bring　rams　to　our　fortress　and　sell　them　cheaply；　only　he　never　would　haggle；　whatever　he　demanded　at　first　you　had　to　give。　　He　would　have　his　throat　cut　rather　than　come　down　in　price。　　He　had　the　reputation　of　being　fond　of　roaming　on　the　far　side　of　the　Kuban　with　the　Abreks；　and；　to　tell　the　truth；　he　had　a　regular　thief's　visage。　　A　little；　wizened；　broad…shouldered　fellow　he　was　　but　smart；　I　can　tell　you；　smart　as　the　very　devil！　　His　tunic　was　always　worn　out　and　patched；　but　his　weapons　were　mounted　in　silver。　His　horse　was　renowned　throughout　Kabardia　　and；　indeed；　a　better　one　it　would　be　impossible　to　imagine！　　Not　without　good　reason　did　all　the　other　horsemen　envy　Kazbich；　and　on　more　than　one　occasion　they　had　attempted　to　steal　the　horse；　but　they　had　never　succeeded。　　I　seem　to　see　the　animal　before　me　now　　black　as　coal；　with　legs　like　bow…strings　and　eyes　as　fine　as　Bela's！　　How　strong　he　was　too！　　He　would　gallop　as　much　as　fifty　versts　at　a　stretch！　　And　he　was　well　trained　besides　　he　would　trot　behind　his　master　like　a　dog；　and　actually　knew　his　voice！　　Kazbich　never　used　to　tether　him　either　　just　the　very　horse　for　a　robber！　。　。　。
  〃On　that　evening　Kazbich　was　more　sullen　than　ever；　and　I　noticed　that　he　was　wearing　a　coat　of　mail　under　his　tunic。　　'He　hasn't　got　that　coat　of　mail　on　for　nothing；'　I　thought。　'He　has　some　plot　in　his　head；　I'll　be　bound！'
  〃It　grew　oppressively　hot　in　the　hut；　and　I　went　out　into　the　air　to　cool　myself。　　Night　had　fallen　upon　the　mountains；　and　a　mist　was　beginning　to　creep　along　the　gorges。
  〃It　occurred　to　me　to　pop　in　under　the　shed　where　our　horses　were　standing；　to　see　whether　they　had　their　fodder；　and；　besides；　it　is　never　any　harm　to　take　precautions。　　My　horse　was　a　splendid　one　too；　and　more　than　one　Kabardian　had　already　cast　fond　glances　at　it；　repeating　at　the　same　time：　'Yakshi　tkhe　chok　yakshi。'＇1＇
  ＇1＇　〃Good　　very　good。〃
  〃I　stole　along　the　fence。　　Suddenly　I　heard　voices；　one　of　which　I　immediately　recognised。
  It　was　that　of　the　young　pickle；　Azamat；　our　host's　son。　　The　other　person　spoke　less　and　in　a　quieter　tone。
  〃'What　are　they　discussing　there？'　I　won…　dered。　　'Surely　it　can't　be　my　horse！'　　I　squatted　down　beside　the　fence　and　proceeded　to　play　the　eavesdropper；　trying　not　to　let　slip　a　single　word。　　At　times　the　noise　of　songs　and　the　buzz　of　voices；　escaping　from　the　hut；　drowned　the　conversation　which　I　was　finding　interesting。
  〃'That's　a　splendid　horse　of　yours；'　Azamat　was　saying。　　'If　I　were　master　of　a　house　of　my　own　and　had　a　stud　of　three　hundred　mares；　I　would　give　half　of　it　for　your　galloper；　Kazbich！'
  〃'Aha！　　Kazbich！'　I　said　to　myself；　and　I　called　to　mind　the　coat　of　mail。
  〃'Yes；'　replied　Kazbich；　after　an　interval　of　silence。　　'There　is　not　such　another　to　be　found　in　all　Kabardia。　　Once　　it　was　on　the　other　side　of　the　Terek　　I　had　ridden　with　the　Abreks　to　seize　the　Russian　herds。　　We　had　no　luck；　so　we　scattered　in　different　directions。　　Four　Cossacks　dashed　after　me。　　I　could　actually　hear　the　cries　of　the　giaours　behind　me；　and　in　front　of　me　there　was　a　dense　forest。　　I　crouched　down　in　the　saddle；　committed　myself　to　Allah；　and；　for　the　first　time　in　my　life；　insulted　my　horse　with　a　blow　of　the　whip。　　Like　a　bird；　he　plunged　among　the　branches；　the　sharp　thorns　tore　my　clothing；　the　dead　boughs　of　the　cork…elms　struck　against　my　face！　　My　horse　leaped　over　tree…　trunks　and　burst　his　way　through　bushes　with　his　chest！　　It　would　have　been　better　for　me　to　have　abandoned　him　at　the　outskirts　of　the　forest　and　concealed　myself　in　it　afoot；　but　it　was　a　pity　to　part　with　him　　and　the　Prophet　rewarded　me。　　A　few　bullets　whistled　over　my　head。　　I　could　now　hear　the　Cossacks；　who　had　dismounted；　running　upon　my　tracks。　　Suddenly　a　deep　gully　opened　before　me。　　My　galloper　took　thought　　and　leaped。　　His　hind　hoofs　slipped　back　off　the　opposite　bank；　and　he　re…　mained　hanging　by　his　fore…feet。　　I　dropped　the　bridle　and　threw　myself　into　the　hollow；　thereby　saving　my　horse；　which　jumped　out。　The　Cossacks　saw　the　whole　scene；　only　not　one　of　them　got　down　to　search　for　me；　thinking　probably　that　I　had　mortally　injured　myself；　and　I　heard　them　rushing　to　catch　my　horse。　　My　heart　bled　within　me。　　I　crept　along　the　hollow　through　the　thick　grass　　then　I　looked　around：　it　was　the　end　of　the　forest。　　A　few　Cossacks　were　riding　out　from　it　on　to　the　clearing；　and　there　was　my　Karagyoz＇1＇　galloping　straight　towards　them。　　With　a　shout　they　all　dashed　forward。　For　a　long；　long　time　they　pursued　him；　and　one　of　them；　in　particular；　was　once　or　twice　almost　successful　in　throwing　a　lasso　over　his　neck。
  ＇1＇　Turkish　for　〃Black…eye。〃
  I　trembled；　dropped　my　eyes；　and　began　to　pray。　After　a　few　moments　I　looked　up　again；　and　there　was　my　Karagyoz　flying　along；　his　tail　waving　　free　as　the　wind；　and　the　giaours；　on　their　jaded　horses；　were　trailing　along　far　behind；　one　after　another；　across　the　steppe。　　Wallah！　　It　is　true　　really　true！　　Till　late　at　night　I　lay　in　the　hollow。　Suddenly　　what　do　you　think；　Azamat？　　I　heard　in　the　darkness　a　horse　trotting　along　the　bank　of　the　hollow；　snorting；　neighing；　and　beating　the　ground　with　his　hoofs。　　I　recognised　my　Karagyoz's　voice；　'twas　he；　my　comrade！〃　。　。　。　Since　that　time　we　have　never　been　parted！'
  〃And　I　could　hear　him　patting　his　galloper's　sleek　neck　with　his　hand；　as　he　called　him　various　fond　names。
  〃'If　I　had　a　stud　of　a　thousand　mares；'　said　Azamat；　'I　would　give　it　all　for　your　Karagyoz！'
  〃'Yok！＇1＇　　I　would　not　take　it！'　said　Kazbich　indifferently。
  ＇1＇　〃No！〃
  〃'Listen；　Kazbich；'　said　Azamat；　trying　to　ingratiate　himself　with　him。　　'You　are　a　kind…　hearted　man；　you　are　a　brave　horseman；　but　my　father　is　afraid　of　the　Russians　and　will　not　allow　me　to　go　on　the　mountains。　　Give　me　your　horse；　and　I　will　do　anything　you　wish。　　I　will　steal　my　father's　best　rifle　for　you；　or　his　sabre　　just　as　you　like　　and　his　sabre　is　a　genuine　Gurda；＇1＇　you　have　only　to　lay　the　edge　against　your　hand；　and　it　will　cut　you；　a　coat　of　mail　like　yours　is　nothing　against　it。'
  ＇1＇　A　particular　kind　of　ancient　and　valued　sabre。
  〃Kazbich　remained　silent。
  〃'The　first　time　I　saw　your　horse；'　continued　Azamat；　'when　he　was　wheeling　and　leaping　under　you；　his　nostrils　distended；　and　the　flints　flying　in　showers　from　under　his　hoofs；　something　I　could　not　understand　took　place　within　my　soul；　and　since　that　time　I　have　been　weary　of　everything。　　I　have　looked　with　disdain　on　my　father's　best　gallopers；　I　have　been　ashamed　to　be　seen　on　them；　and　yearning　has　taken　pos…　session　of　me。　　In　my　anguish　I　have　spent　whole　days　on　the　cliffs；　and；　every　minute；　my　thoughts　have　kept　turning　to　your　black　galloper　with　his　graceful　gait　and　his　sleek　back；　straight　as　an　arrow。　　With　his　keen；　bri