A Reckless Character | Page 5

that I behave recklessly. What else can I do?... One begins to think--and, O Lord, what comes into his head! 'T is only the Germans who think!..."
What was the use of arguing with him? He was a reckless man--and that is all there is to say!
I will repeat to you two or three of the Caucasian legends to which I have alluded. One day, in the company of the officers, M��sha began to brag of a Circassian sabre which he had obtained in barter.--"A genuine Persian blade!"--The officers expressed doubt as to whether it were really genuine. M��sha began to dispute.--"See here," he exclaimed at last,--"they say that the finest judge of Circassian sabres is one-eyed Abdulka. I will go to him and ask."--The officers were dumbfounded.
"What Abdulka? The one who lives in the mountains? The one who is not at peace with us? Abdul-Khan?"
"The very man."
"But he will take thee for a scout, he will place thee in the bug-house,--or he will cut off thy head with that same sabre. And how wilt thou make thy way to him? They will seize thee immediately."
"But I will go to him, nevertheless."
"We bet that thou wilt not go!"
"I take your bet!"
And M��sha instantly saddled his horse and rode off to Abdulka. He was gone for three days. All were convinced that he had come to some dreadful end. And behold! he came back, somewhat tipsy, and with a sabre, only not the one which he had carried away with him, but another. They began to question him.
"It's all right," said he. "Abdulka is a kind man. At first he really did order fetters to be riveted on my legs, and was even preparing to impale me on a stake. But I explained to him why I had come. 'Do not expect any ransom from me,' said I. 'I haven't a farthing to my name--and I have no relatives.'--Abdulka was amazed; he stared at me with his solitary eye.-'Well,' says he, 'thou art the chief of heroes, Russian! Am I to believe thee?'--'Believe me,' said I; 'I never lie' (and M��sha really never did lie).--Abdulka looked at me again.-'And dost thou know how to drink wine?'-'I do,' said I; 'as much as thou wilt give, so much will I drink.'--Again Abdulka was astonished, and mentioned Allah. And then he ordered his daughter, or some pretty maiden, whoever she was,--anyhow, she had the gaze of a jackal,--to fetch a leathern bottle of wine.--And I set to work.--'But thy sabre is spurious,' says he; 'here, take this genuine one. And now thou and I are friends.'--And you have lost your wager, gentlemen, so pay up."
A second legend concerning M��sha runs as follows. He was passionately fond of cards; but as he had no money and did not pay his gambling debts (although he was never a sharper), no one would any longer sit down to play with him. So one day he began to importune a brother officer, and insisted upon the latter's playing with him.
"But thou wilt be sure to lose, and thou wilt not pay."
"I will not pay in money, that's true--but I will shoot a hole through my left hand with this pistol here!"
"But what profit is there for me in that?"
"No profit whatever--but it's a curious thing, nevertheless."
This conversation took place after a carouse, in the presence of witnesses. Whether M��sha's proposal really did strike the officer as curious or not,--at all events, he consented. The cards were brought, the game began. M��sha was lucky; he won one hundred rubles. And thereupon his opponent smote himself on the forehead.
"What a blockhead I am!" he cried.--"On what a bait was I caught! If thou hadst lost, much thou wouldst have shot thyself through the hand!--so it's just an assault on my pocket!"
"That's where thou art mistaken," retorted M��sha:--"I have won--but I'll shoot the hole through my hand."
He seized his pistol, and bang! shot himself through the hand. The bullet went clear through ... and a week later the wound was completely healed!
On another occasion still, M��sha is riding along the road by night with his comrades.... And they see yawning, right by the side of the road, a narrow ravine in the nature of a cleft, dark, very dark, and the bottom of it not visible.
"Here now," says one comrade, "M��sha is reckless enough about some things, but he will not leap into this ravine."
"Yes, I will!"
"No, thou wilt not, because it is, probably, ten fathoms deep, and thou mightest break thy neck."
His friend knew how to attack him--through his vanity.... M��sha had a great deal of it.
"But I will leap, nevertheless! Wilt thou bet on it? Ten rubles."
"All right!"
And before his comrade had managed to finish the last word M��sha flew off his horse into the ravine, and crashed down