A Reckless Character | Page 6

and the bottom of
it not visible.
"Here now," says one comrade, "Mísha 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.... Mísha 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 Mísha
flew off his horse into the ravine, and crashed down on the stones. They
were all fairly petrified with horror.... A good minute passed, and they
heard Mísha's voice proceeding as though from the bowels of the earth,
and very dull:
"I'm whole! I landed on sand.... But the descent was long! Ten rubles
on you!"
"Climb out!" shouted his comrades.
"Yes, climb out!"--returned Mísha. "Damn it! One can't climb out of
here! You will have to ride off now for ropes and lanterns. And in the
meanwhile, so that I may not find the waiting tedious, toss me down a
flask...."
And so Mísha had to sit for five hours at the bottom of the ravine; and
when they dragged him out, it appeared that he had a dislocated
shoulder. But this did not daunt him in the least. On the following day a
blacksmith bone-setter set his shoulder, and he used it as though
nothing were the matter.
Altogether, his health was remarkable, unprecedented. I have already
told you that until his death he preserved an almost childish freshness
of complexion. He did not know what it was to be ill, in spite of all his
excesses; the vigour of his constitution was not affected in a single
instance. Where any other man would have fallen dangerously ill, or
even have died, he merely shook himself like a duck in the water, and
became more blooming than ever. Once--that also was in the
Caucasus.... This legend is improbable, it is true, but from it one can
judge what Mísha was regarded as capable of doing.... So then, once, in
the Caucasus, when in a state of intoxication, he fell into a small stream
that covered the lower part of his body; his head and arms remained
exposed on the bank. The affair took place in winter; a rigorous frost
set in; and when he was found on the following morning, his legs and
body were visible beneath a stout crust of ice which had frozen over in
the course of the night--and he never even had a cold in the head in
consequence! On another occasion (this happened in Russia, near
Orél,[10] and also during a severe frost), he chanced to go to a
suburban eating-house in company with seven young theological

students. These theological students were celebrating their graduation
examination, and had invited Mísha, as a charming fellow, "a man with
a sigh," as it was called then. They drank a great deal; and when, at last,
the merry crew were preparing to depart, Mísha, dead drunk, was found
to be already in a state of unconsciousness. The whole seven
theological students had between them only one tróika sledge with a
high back;[11]--where were they to put the helpless body? Then one of
the young men, inspired by classical reminiscences, suggested that
Mísha be tied by the feet to the back of the sledge, as Hector was to the
chariot of Achilles! The suggestion was approved ... and bouncing over
the hummocks, sliding sideways down the declivities, with his feet
strung up in the air, and his head dragging through the snow, our Mísha
traversed on his back the distance of two versts which separated the
restaurant from the town, and never even so much as coughed or
frowned. With such marvellous health had nature endowed him!

V
Leaving the Caucasus, he presented himself once more in Moscow, in a
Circassian coat, with cartridge-pouches on the breast, a dagger in his
belt, and a tall fur cap on his head. From this costume he did not part
until the end, although he was no longer in the military service, from
which he had been dismissed for not reporting on time. He called on
me, borrowed a little money ... and then began his "divings," his
progress through the tribulations,[12] or, as he expressed it, "through
the seven Semyóns";[13] then began his sudden absences and returns,
the despatching of beautifully-written letters addressed to all possible
persons, beginning with the Metropolitan and ending with
riding-masters and midwives! Then began the visits to acquaintances
and strangers! And here is one point which must be noted: in making
his calls he did not cringe and did not importune; but, on the contrary,
he