and more of
a man. The Caucasus now appeared entirely different to what his
imagination had painted it. He had found nothing at all like his
dreams, nor like the descriptions of the Caucasus he had heard and
read. 'There are none of all those chestnut steeds, precipices, Amalet
Beks, heroes or villains,' thought he. 'The people live as nature
lives: they die, are born, unite, and more are born--they fight, eat
and drink, rejoice and die, without any restrictions but those that
nature imposes on sun and grass, on animal and tree. They have no other
laws.' Therefore these people, compared to himself, appeared to him
beautiful, strong, and free, and the sight of them made him feel
ashamed and sorry for himself. Often it seriously occurred to him to
throw up everything, to get registered as a Cossack, to buy a hut and
cattle and marry a Cossack woman (only not Maryanka, whom he conceded
to Lukashka), and to live with Daddy Eroshka and go shooting and
fishing with him, and go with the Cossacks on their expeditions. 'Why
ever don't I do it? What am I waiting for?' he asked himself, and he
egged himself on and shamed himself. 'Am I afraid of doing what I hold
to be reasonable and right? Is the wish to be a simple Cossack, to live
close to nature, not to injure anyone but even to do good to others,
more stupid than my former dreams, such as those of becoming a minister
of state or a colonel?' but a voice seemed to say that he should wait,
and not take any decision. He was held back by a dim consciousness that
he could not live altogether like Eroshka and Lukashka because he had a
different idea of happiness--he was held back by the thought that
happiness lies in self-sacrifice. What he had done for Lukashka
continued to give him joy. He kept looking for occasions to sacrifice
himself for others, but did not meet with them. Sometimes he forgot
this newly discovered recipe for happiness and considered himself
capable of identifying his life with Daddy Eroshka's, but then he
quickly bethought himself and promptly clutched at the idea of
conscious self-sacrifice, and from that basis looked calmly and proudly
at all men and at their happiness.

Chapter XXVII

Just before the vintage Lukashka came on horseback to see Olenin. He
looked more dashing than ever. 'Well? Are you getting married?' asked
Olenin, greeting him merrily.

Lukashka gave no direct reply.

'There, I've exchanged your horse across the river. This is a h