"A Hero of Our Time" is a psychological novel. Pechorin, the main character of the work, dreamed of exploits, but due to his inaction he could not achieve anything in life. Morally devastated, he is deeply unhappy. Despite his excellent appearance and brilliant education, he has no friends or beloved woman. He thought too much, but did little to change his life for the better.
Quotes from the novel “A Hero of Our Time” can be used in our lives. They carry vital meaning and will be used forever, passed on from generation to generation.
Part one
I. Bela
I was involuntarily struck by the ability of the Russian person to apply himself to the customs of those peoples among whom he happens to live; I don’t know whether this property of the mind is worthy of blame or praise, only it proves its incredible flexibility and the presence of this clear common sense, which forgives evil wherever it sees its necessity or the impossibility of its destruction. Moving away from the conditions of society and approaching nature, we involuntarily become children; everything acquired falls away from the soul, and it becomes again the same as it once was, and, most likely, will be again someday.[...] and if all people reasoned more, they would be convinced that life is not worth living about. so much to care about... In the hearts of simple people, the feeling of the beauty and grandeur of nature is stronger, a hundred times more vivid, than in us, enthusiastic storytellers in words and on paper. This is Asia for me! Whether it’s people or rivers, you can’t rely on it! (Staff Captain Maxim Maksimych) Fame is luck, and to achieve it, you just need to be dexterous.
Maxim Maksimych
Maxim Maksimych
Pechorin’s colleague, at the time of the story he is about 50 years old:
“...He seemed about fifty years old...”
All that is known about his appearance is that Maxim Maksimych wears a mustache, his face is very tanned:
“...his dark complexion showed that he had long been familiar with the Transcaucasian sun, and his prematurely gray mustache did not match his firm gait and cheerful appearance...”
Comes from a poor, humble family, poorly educated:
“...What does he care about me? I’m not rich, I’m not an official..."
“...Where can we, uneducated old men, chase after you!...”
Has no relatives:
“...I must tell you that I don’t have a family: I haven’t heard from my father and mother for twelve years, and I didn’t think of getting a wife before - so now, you know, it doesn’t suit me.”
He has the military rank of staff captain and has been serving in the 3rd Caucasian Line Battalion for more than 10 years:
“...The staff captain did not answer a word...”
“...Now I’m considered to be in the third line battalion...”
“...I stood there for ten years in the fortress with a company, at the Kamenny Ford...”
The author emphasizes that his hero is a respected person:
“...Admit, however, that Maxim Maksimych is a person worthy of respect?...”
The main advantages of an old soldier are his kindness and modesty:
“...Listen, Maxim Maksimych! - Pechorin said, standing up. “After all, you are a kind person...”
“...I began to share the concern of the good staff captain...”
“...And really say: what am I that I should be remembered before death?...”
He doesn’t drink alcohol at all and cooks deliciously:
“...No, thank you, I don’t drink <...> I gave myself a spell”
“...Maksim Maksimych had deep knowledge in the art of cooking: he fried the pheasant surprisingly well, successfully poured cucumber pickle on it...”
Hospitable, friendly, easily establishes communication with people, be it his colleagues, be they Circassian abreks:
“...Very glad, very glad. You will be a little bored... well, you and I will live like friends..."
“...Once the old prince himself comes to invite us to a wedding: he was giving his eldest daughter in marriage, and we were kunaki with him: you can’t, you know, refuse, even though he is a Tatar...”
“... Kazbich arrived <...> I treated him to tea, because even though he was a robber, he was still my kunak”
However, his simplicity and sociability do not prevent him from being observant and careful:
“...It’s not for nothing that he’s wearing this chain mail,” I thought, “he’s probably up to something...”
“...the door to the second room was locked, and there was no key in the lock. I noticed all this immediately..."
“...besides, caution never hurts...”
All Maksim Maksimych lacks is experience in communicating with women:
“...What was I supposed to do with her? I, you know, have never approached women; I thought and thought about how to console her, and came up with nothing..."
He is easily emotional and quite touchy:
“...Will you believe it? I, standing outside the door, also began to cry, that is, you know, not that I cried, but just like that - stupidity!..."
“...And...you?..and you? - muttered the old man with tears in his eyes... - how many years... how many days... but where is it?..”
“...he began to walk around the yard near his cart, pretending to be inspecting the wheels, while his eyes constantly filled with tears...”
“...I must admit, this is what saddens me: before her death, she never remembered me; but it seems that I loved her like a father... well, God will forgive her!..."
“...Yes,” he said finally, trying to assume an indifferent look, although a tear of annoyance sparkled from time to time on his eyelashes, “of course, we were friends - well, what are friends in this century!”
Pechorin's Journal
Preface
The history of the human soul, even the smallest soul, is perhaps more curious and useful than the history of an entire people, especially when it is the result of observations of a mature mind on itself and when it is written without a vain desire to arouse sympathy or surprise. Rousseau's confession already has the disadvantage that he read it to his friends.
I. Taman
I confess that I have a strong prejudice against all the blind, crooked, deaf, dumb, legless, armless, hunchbacked, etc. I noticed that there is always some strange relationship between a person’s appearance and his soul: as if with the loss of a part of the body, the soul loses some kind of feeling. The breed in women, as in horses, is a great thing; this discovery belongs to Young France. She, that is, the breed, and not Young France, is mostly revealed in her step, in her arms and legs; especially the nose means a lot. A correct nose in Russia is less common than a small leg.
Bela
Bela
The youngest daughter of the Tatar prince, whose family consists of her father, older sister and brother:
“..I am a prince’s daughter!..”
"...the master's youngest daughter..."
“...even though he is a Tatar...”
“...Since the old prince himself comes to invite us to a wedding...”
“...he gave his eldest daughter in marriage...”
“...His little son, a boy of about fifteen...”
Age – 16 years:
“...a girl of about sixteen...”
A recognized beauty
“…“Lovely! - he answered..."
“...she was good: tall, thin...”
“... Pechorin was not the only one who admired the pretty princess...”
"...Asian beauty..."
“...that cute face!..”
“...she has become so prettier with us that it’s a miracle; The tan faded from my face and hands, a blush appeared on my cheeks...”
“...the eyes were black, like those of a mountain chamois, and looked into your soul...”
“...What eyes! they sparkled like two coals..."
The girl’s religion is not precisely determined, but she is definitely not a Christian:
“...She began to grieve that she was not a Christian, and that in the next world her soul would never meet the soul of Grigory Alexandrovich...”
“...I wanted to put a cross, but, you know, it’s awkward: after all, she was not a Christian...”
No upbringing or education:
“...Yeah! - I thought, “and in you, darling, the blood of the robber is not silent!..”
“...the love of a savage is little better than the love of a noble lady...”
“..ignorance and simple-heartedness of one...”
Native language is Tatar, does not know Russian:
“... Grigory Alexandrovich fought with her; Meanwhile, I studied in Tatar, and she began to understand in ours...”
Loves his family and misses them:
“...she was always sad, she sang her songs in a low voice, so sometimes I felt sad when I listened to her from the next room...”
“...she wanted to go to the mountains, to go home...”
Proud and independent:
“...the first days she silently proudly pushed away the gifts that then went to the perfumer and aroused her eloquence...”
“...I am not his slave - I am a prince’s daughter!..”
“...The devil, not the woman!”
In contrast to this, he knows how to have fun, loves to dance:
“...She used to be so cheerful, and she kept making fun of me, the naughty girl...”
“...I will be cheerful. “And with laughter she grabbed her tambourine, began to sing, dance and jump around me...”
“... She used to sing songs to us or dance a lezginka... And how she danced! I’ve seen our provincial young ladies <…> but where are they going! not at all!..”
Needlewoman:
“...and he embroiders with gold - a miracle!..”
Falls in love with Pechorin:
“...I felt annoyed that no woman had ever loved me so much...”
“...she admitted to us that from the day she saw Pechorin, she often dreamed of him in her dreams and that no man had ever made such an impression on her...”
Dies at the hands of Kazbich:
“...The next day, early in the morning, we buried her behind the fortress, by the river, near the place where she last sat...”
Part two (End of Pechorin's journal)
II. Princess Mary
We must give justice to women: they have an instinct for spiritual beauty. Of two friends, one is always the slave of the other, although often neither of them admits this to himself. I was created stupidly: I forget nothing, nothing! Oh, pride! you are the lever with which Archimedes wanted to lift the globe!..Women love only those they do not know.Russian young ladies for the most part feed only on platonic love, without mixing into it the thought of marriage; and platonic love is the most restless. The princess, it seems, is one of those women who wants to be amused; if she feels bored around you for two minutes in a row, you are lost irrevocably: your silence should arouse her curiosity, your conversation should never fully satisfy it; you must disturb her every minute; she will publicly neglect your opinion ten times and call it a sacrifice and, in order to reward herself for this, she will begin to torment you - and then she will simply say that she cannot stand you. If you do not gain power over her, then even her first kiss will not give you the right to a second; she flirts with you to her heart's content, and in two years she will marry a freak, out of obedience to her mother, and will begin to convince herself that she is unhappy, that she loved only one person, that is, you, but that heaven did not want to unite her with him , because he was wearing a soldier’s overcoat, although under this thick gray overcoat a passionate and noble heart was beating... (Pechorin to Grushnitsky) The human heart in general, and a woman’s in particular, is a strange thing! I have already passed that period of mental life when they only seek happiness, when the heart feels the need to love someone strongly and passionately - now I only want to be loved, and then by very few; even it seems to me that one constant attachment would be enough for me: a pathetic habit of the heart!.. There is no woman’s gaze that I would not forget at the sight of curly mountains illuminated by the southern sun, at the sight of the blue sky or listening to the sound of a stream falling from cliff to cliff .Where there is a society of women, the upper and lower circles will now appear. A repentant criminal should never be rejected: out of despair he can become twice as criminal... and then... Women! women! who will understand them? Their smiles contradict their gazes, their words promise and beckon, and the sound of their voice repels... Either in a minute they comprehend and guess our most secret thought, then they do not understand the clearest hints... (Grushnitsky) You men do not understand the pleasures of a glance, a squeeze hands, and I, I swear to you, listening to your voice, I feel such a deep, strange bliss that the hottest kisses cannot replace it. Music after dinner puts you to sleep, and sleeping after dinner is great: therefore, I love music in a medical sense .The restless need for love, which torments us in the first years of youth, throws us from one woman to another until we find one who cannot stand us: here our constancy begins - true endless passion, which can be mathematically expressed by a line falling from a point into space; the secret of this infinity lies only in the impossibility of achieving the goal, that is, the end. There is immense pleasure in possessing a young, barely blossoming soul! She is like a flower whose best fragrance evaporates towards the first ray of the sun; it must be plucked at this moment and, having inhaled it to the full, throw it on the road: maybe someone will pick it up! Ambition is nothing more than a thirst for power, and my first pleasure is to subordinate to my will everything that surrounds me; to arouse feelings of love, devotion and fear - isn’t this the first sign and greatest triumph of power? To be the cause of suffering and joy for someone, without having any positive right to do so - isn’t this the sweetest food of our pride? What is happiness? Saturated pride. Evil begets evil; the first suffering gives the concept of pleasure in tormenting another; the idea of evil cannot enter a person’s head without him wanting to apply it to reality: ideas are organic creatures, someone said: their birth already gives them a form, and this form is an action; the one in whose head more ideas were born acts more than others; from this, a genius, chained to an official's desk, must die or go crazy, just as a man with a powerful physique, with a sedentary life and modest behavior, dies of an apoplexy. Passions are nothing more than ideas in their first development: They belong to the youth of the heart, and he is a fool who thinks to worry about them all his life: many calm rivers begin with noisy waterfalls, but not one jumps and foams all the way to the sea. But this calmness is often a sign of great, although hidden strength; the fullness and depth of feelings and thoughts does not allow frantic impulses; the soul, suffering and enjoying, gives itself a strict account of everything and is convinced that it should be so; she knows that without thunderstorms the constant heat of the sun will dry her out; she is imbued with her own life - she cherishes and punishes herself like a beloved child. Only in this highest state of self-knowledge can a person appreciate God’s justice. The love that we read in the eyes does not oblige a woman to anything, while words... This has been my fate since childhood. Everyone read on my face signs of bad feelings that were not there; but they were anticipated - and they were born. I was modest - I was accused of guile: I became secretive. I felt good and evil deeply; no one caressed me, everyone insulted me: I became vindictive; I was gloomy, - other children were cheerful and talkative; I felt superior to them; they put me below. I became envious. I was ready to love the whole world, but no one understood me: and I learned to hate. My colorless youth passed in a struggle with myself and the world; Fearing ridicule, I buried my best feelings in the depths of my heart: they died there. I told the truth - they didn’t believe me: I began to deceive; Having learned well the light and springs of society, I became skilled in the science of life and saw how others were happy without art, freely enjoying the benefits that I so tirelessly sought. And then despair was born in my chest - not the despair that is treated with the barrel of a pistol, but cold, powerless despair, covered with courtesy and a good-natured smile. I became a moral cripple: one half of my soul did not exist, it dried up, evaporated, died, I cut it off and threw it away - while the other moved and lived at the service of everyone, and no one noticed this, because no one knew about the existence of the deceased half of it. (compare Pechorin’s words with the remark of the hero of the drama “Two Brothers”) To many, all epitaphs seem funny, but not to me, especially when I remember what lies beneath them. Almost all passions begin this way, and we often deceive ourselves when we think that a woman loves us for our physical or moral virtues; of course, they prepare her heart to receive the sacred fire, but still the first touch decides the matter. There were once wise people who thought that the heavenly bodies take part in our insignificant disputes over a piece of land or for some fictitious rights!.. And Well? these lamps, lit, in their opinion, only to illuminate their battles and triumphs, burn with their former brilliance, and their passions and hopes have long ago died out with them, like a light lit at the edge of the forest by a careless wanderer! But what strength of will was given to them by the confidence that the whole sky with its countless inhabitants was looking at them with participation, albeit mute, but unchanging!.. And we, their pitiful descendants, wandering the earth without convictions and pride, without pleasure and fear, Apart from that involuntary fear that squeezes the heart at the thought of the inevitable end, we are no longer capable of making great sacrifices, either for the good of humanity, or even for our own happiness, therefore we know its impossibility and indifferently move from doubt to doubt, as our ancestors rushed from one delusion to another, having, like them, neither hope, nor even that vague, although true, pleasure that the soul encounters in every struggle with people or fate... (Part III “Fatalist”) I love enemies, although not in a Christian way . They amuse me, they stir my blood. To be always on guard, to catch every glance, the meaning of every word, to guess intentions, to destroy conspiracies, to pretend to be deceived, and suddenly with one push to overturn the entire huge and laborious edifice of their cunning and plans - this is what I call life. There is nothing more paradoxical than the female mind; It is difficult to convince women of anything; they must be brought to the point where they convince themselves; the order of evidence with which they destroy their prejudices is very original; in order to learn their dialectics, you need to overturn in your mind all the school rules of logic. Since poets write and women read them (for which we have our deepest gratitude), they have been called angels so many times that they, in fact, in the simplicity of their souls, they believed this compliment, forgetting that the same poets, for money, called Nero a demigod. The word marry has some kind of magical power over me: no matter how passionately I love a woman, if she only lets me feel that I should marry her, - forgive me love! my heart turns to stone, and nothing will warm it up again. I am ready for any sacrifice except this one; Twenty times I’ll put my life, even my honor, on the line... but I won’t sell my freedom. Nature is a fool,
Fate is a turkey, And life is a penny.
To die like that! the loss to the world is small; and I’m pretty bored myself. I am like a man yawning at a ball who does not go to bed only because his carriage is not yet there. But the carriage is ready... goodbye!.. My love did not bring happiness to anyone, because I did not sacrifice anything for those I loved: I loved for myself, for my own pleasure: I only satisfied the strange need of my heart, greedily absorbing their feelings, their joy and suffering - and could never get enough. Some consider me worse, others better than I really am... Some will say: he was a kind fellow, others - a scoundrel. Both will be false. After this, is life worth the trouble? and you still live out of curiosity: you expect something new... It’s funny and annoying! Thinking about imminent and possible death, I think about one thing for myself: others don’t do this either. Friends who will forget me tomorrow or, worse, construct God knows what kind of lies about me; women who, hugging another, will laugh at me, so as not to arouse in him jealousy for the deceased - God be with them! From the storm of life I brought only a few ideas - and not a single feeling. For a long time now I have been living not with my heart, but with my head. I weigh and examine my own passions and actions with strict curiosity, but without participation. These are the people! they are all like this: they know in advance all the bad sides of the action, they help, advise, even approve of it, seeing the impossibility of another means - and then wash their hands and turn away with indignation from the one who had the courage to take on the entire burden of responsibility. They are all like that, even the kindest, the smartest!..
III. Quotes from different parts
Who knows for sure whether he is convinced of something or not?.. and how often do we mistake for conviction a deception of feelings or a blunder of reason!.. How many people, starting life, think of ending it, like Alexander the Great or Lord Byron, and yet remain titular advisers for a whole century?.. “..And my first pleasure is to subordinate to my will everything that surrounds me; To be the cause of joy and suffering for someone, without having any positive right to do so - isn’t this the sweetest food of our pride? do not talk about your misfortunes: it will sadden your friends and amuse your enemies. Tomorrow she will want to reward me. I already know all this by heart - that’s what’s boring! I’m like a sailor, born and raised on the deck of a robber brig: his soul has become accustomed to storms and battles, and, thrown ashore, he is bored and languishing, no matter how the shady grove beckons him, no matter how the peaceful sun shines on him; he walks all day long along the coastal sand, listens to the monotonous murmur of the oncoming waves and peers into the foggy distance: will the desired sail, at first like the wing of a sea gull, but little by little, separate from the pale line separating the blue abyss from the gray clouds? from the foam of boulders and at a steady run approaching the deserted pier... And you can get used to the whistle of a bullet. At the end of the evening, the conversation took a philosophical and metaphysical direction; talked about beliefs: everyone was convinced of different differences. And maybe I will die tomorrow!... and there will not be a single creature left on earth who would understand me completely. In your nonsense, however, there is an idea! Maybe you That’s why she loved me: joys are forgotten, but sorrows are never forgotten! There is no person in the world over whom the past would acquire such power as over me. Every reminder of past sadness or joy painfully strikes my soul and draws out the same sounds from it. I am stupidly created: I forget nothing, nothing. I cannot be a slave, and in this case commanding is tiresome work. There are two people in me : one lives in the full sense of the word, the other thinks and judges him; the first, perhaps, in an hour will say goodbye to you and the world forever, and the second... After all this, how can one not become a fatalist? But who knows for sure whether he is convinced of something or not?.. and how often we mistake for a belief a deception of feelings or a blunder of reason!... I like to doubt everything: this disposition of the mind does not interfere with the decisiveness of character - on the contrary, as far as I am concerned, then I always move forward more boldly when I don’t know what awaits me. After all, nothing worse than death can happen - and you cannot escape death! Much is not said, but guessed. What began in an extraordinary way must end in the same way. There are people with whom one must certainly agree. And if all people reasoned more, they would be convinced I wish life wasn’t worth caring about so much. I wanted to force you to tell me something; firstly, because listening is less tiring; secondly, you cannot let it slip; thirdly, you can find out someone else's secret; fourthly, because smart people like you love listeners better than tellers. I never reveal my secrets myself, but I really love to have them guessed, because in this way I can always deny them on occasion. I understood him, and he doesn’t love me for this, although we are outwardly on the most friendly terms. She wants to talk to me, they interfere with her, so why would she want twice as much. It’s sad to see when a young man loses his best hopes and dreams, when before he pulls back the pink veil through which he looked at human affairs and feelings, although there is hope that he will replace old delusions with new ones, no less passing, but no less sweet... I have a presentiment... when meeting a woman, I always guessed unmistakably, will she love me or not... His gaze - short, but penetrating and heavy, left an unpleasant impression of an immodest question and could have seemed impudent if he had not been so indifferently calm. Is evil really so attractive?..... we almost always apologize what we understand. There is no use in those who forget old friends!.. Ah, gifts! what a woman won’t do for a colored rag!.. After all, there are, really, these people who are destined in their birth that all sorts of extraordinary things should happen to them! These are the people! they are all like this: they know in advance all the bad sides of the action, they help, advise, even approve of it, seeing the impossibility of another means - and then wash their hands and turn away with indignation from the one who had the courage to take on the entire burden of responsibility. They are all like that, even the kindest, the smartest!.. Thinking about imminent and possible death, I think about one thing: others don’t do this either. Friends who will forget me tomorrow or, worse, construct God knows what kind of lies about me; women who, hugging another, will laugh at me, so as not to arouse in him jealousy for the deceased - God be with them! From the storm of life I brought only a few ideas - and not a single feeling. For a long time now I have been living not with my heart, but with my head. I weigh and examine my own passions and actions with strict curiosity, but without participation. Some consider me worse, others better than I really am... Some will say: he was a kind fellow, others - a scoundrel. Both will be false. After this, is life worth the trouble? and you always live out of curiosity: you expect something new... It’s funny and annoying! My love didn’t bring happiness to anyone, because I didn’t sacrifice anything for those I loved: I loved for myself, for my own pleasure: I only satisfied a strange need hearts, greedily devouring their feelings, their joys and sufferings - and could never get enough. To die like that! the loss to the world is small; and I’m pretty bored myself. I am like a man yawning at a ball who does not go to bed only because his carriage is not yet there. But the carriage is ready... goodbye!..
Quotes from Grushnitsky
My dear, I hate people so as not to despise them, because otherwise life would be too disgusting a farce
Women! women! who will understand them? Their smiles contradict their gazes, their words promise and beckon, and the sound of their voice repels... Either they comprehend and guess our most secret thought in a minute, or they do not understand the clearest hints...
Yes, even if she loves, a decent woman will not say this...
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Princess Mary
Princess Mary
Maria Ligovskaya, princess, her age is not indicated in the novel:
“...the love of a young girl...”
“...a young, barely blossoming soul!..”
“...I should have expected this from the girl...”
Came from Moscow:
"...Moscow princess..."
“...She spent the last half of her life in Moscow...”
“...in Moscow, apparently, the young ladies have embarked on learning...”
Mother's only daughter, a rich noble heiress:
“...I’m rich, she’s the only one I have...”
“...she ran into the gates of one of the best houses in Pyatigorsk...”
“...This proud nobility looks at us, army men, as if we were wild...”
He has an attractive appearance, which is readily recognized by others:
“...young, slender...”
“...her thick hair was gathered under a nightcap trimmed with lace; a large crimson scarf covered her white shoulders, her small feet were hidden in colorful Persian shoes ... "
“...The pretty princess turned around...”
"...You're talking about a pretty woman..."
"...where did our beauty hide..."
"...she's not bad..."
One of the main advantages of her appearance is her large, expressive eyes:
“...raising your velvet eyes at me...”
“She has such velvet eyes - precisely velvet <...> the lower and upper eyelashes are so long that the rays of the sun are not reflected in her pupils. I love those eyes without shine: they are so soft, they seem to be stroking you... However, it seems that there is only good in her face..."
Graceful:
“...Lighter than a bird, she jumped up to him, bent down, picked up the glass and handed it to him with a body movement filled with inexpressible charm...”
Her face is very expressive:
“...she answered with an ironic grimace, which, however, really suits her agile physiognomy...”
“...She made a grimace, thrusting out her lower lip, and sat down very mockingly...”
Brought up in accordance with the rules of high society, has good taste:
“...they were dressed according to the strict rules of the best taste: nothing superfluous...”
“...many ladies looked at her with envy and hostility, because Princess Mary dresses with taste...”
The girl is quite educated:
“...she has respect for the intelligence and knowledge of her daughter, who read Byron in English and knows algebra...”
“...whisper the necessary: “Merci, monsieur” ...”
Has musical abilities, albeit not very developed:
“...The princess sat her daughter down at the piano...”
“...She began to sing: her voice is not bad, but she sings poorly...”
Mary dances well:
“...She waltzes amazingly well...”
Has a sense of humor:
“...she joked very nicely; her conversation was sharp, without pretense of sharpness, lively and free; her remarks are sometimes profound..."
Due to her youth, she is inexperienced and has a poor understanding of people, preferring to see everyone in a romantic aura:
“...he said some kind of compliment to the princess: she, apparently, is not very picky, for since then she has responded to his bow with the sweetest smile...”
"...into her inexperienced heart..."
“...she is sure that this young man in a soldier’s overcoat has been demoted to the ranks of soldiers for a duel...”
“...My daughter listened with curiosity. In her imagination, you became the hero of a novel in a new style..."
“...the princess seems to like to talk about feelings, passions, and so on...”
Due to beauty and wealth, has fans:
“...I use all my strength to distract her admirers, brilliant adjutants, pale Muscovites and others...”
“...you are surrounded by too dense a crowd of fans, and I was afraid to completely disappear in it...”
She knows about the impression she makes on men, flirts with them, trying to fall into the image of a languid young lady:
“...I should have expected this from a girl... from a coquette...”
“...she flirts with you to her heart’s content, and in two years she will marry a freak, out of obedience to her mother...”
“...the princess also wanted to laugh more than once, but she restrained herself so as not to leave the accepted role: she finds that languor is coming to her - and, perhaps, she is not mistaken...”
“...she managed, however, quite soon to take on a completely indifferent and even stern look...”
However, having sincerely fallen in love with Pechorin, Mary changes her behavior:
“...Where did her liveliness go, her coquetry, her whims, her daring expression, her contemptuous smile, her absent-minded gaze?..”
