About four hours afterwards Petchorin came back from hunting. Bela threw herself on his neck; and not one word of complaint did she utter, not one word of reproach for his long absence. But for my part, I could not help expostulating with him. ‘For God’s sake,’ said I, ‘only think! Kasbitch was just now on the other side of the stream, and we fired at him: it was the greatest chance that you did not fall in with him. These Gorzans are a vindictive race. You fancy he has no suspicion that you abetted Asamat. I will lay you a bet he recognized Bela. I know he took a great liking to her a year ago: he told me so himself; and also, that, when he should have raised the means to make her father the necessary presents, he would probably become her suitor.’ This made Petchorin thoughtful. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we must be more cautious. Bela, from this day forth, you must not show yourself on the ramparts.’
I had a long explanation with him in the evening. I was vexed at his change of conduct towards the poor girl: for, besides his spending half his time in field-sports, his behaviour was cold, he seldom showed her marks of fondness, and she was manifestly beginning to fall away in flesh: her little face became smaller, and her large eyes grew dim. If he asked her, ‘What ails you Bela; are you fretting?’ she would answer, ‘No.’ ‘Is there any thing you wish for?’ ‘No.’ ‘Are you grieving for your brother and sister?’ ‘I have no brother and sister.’ It often happened that for whole days together you could not get a word out of her, but yes and no.
Kasbitch did not show himself again; only I could not get it out of my head, that he had not come to the fort for nothing, and that he had some mischief in view.
One day it chanced that Petchorin prevailed on me, to accompany him to hunt the boar. I had refused for a long while; the sport, indeed, was any thing but new to me, and offered me no temptation. He forced me, however, to go with him; so we set out early in the morning, taking with us an escort of five soldiers. We beat about the bushes and the grass, till ten o’clock, but started no game. ‘I think we had better go home,’ said I; ‘what is the good of stopping here? This is plainly no lucky day.’ But in spite of heat and fatigue, Gregorii Alexandrovitch would not go back empty handed. That was just his way: whatever he took into his head, must be: it was easy to see his mother had made a spoiled pet of him in his childhood. At last about noon we discovered a boar—bang! bang!—but it would not do; the boar made for the bulrushes, and escaped; the day was decidedly an unlucky one. After we had rested, and taken breath a little, we set out on our way home.