Maksimych.

"His name was Grigori Aleksandrovich Pe-
chorin. He was a splendid fellow, I can assure
you, but a little peculiar. Why, to give you an
instance, one time he would stay out hunting
the whole day, in the rain and cold; the others
would all be frozen through and tired out, but he
wouldn't mind either cold or fatigue. Then,
another time, he would be sitting in his own
room, and, if there was a breath of wind, he would
declare that he had caught cold; if the shutters
rattled against the window he would start and
turn pale: yet I myself have seen him attack a
boar single-handed. Often enough you couldn't
drag a word out of him for hours together; but
then, on the other hand, sometimes, when he
started telling stories, you would split your sides
with laughing. Yes, sir, a very eccentric man;
and he must have been wealthy too. What a
lot of expensive trinkets he had!" . . .

"Did he stay there long with you?" I went
on to ask.

"Yes, about a year. And, for that very reason,
it was a memorable year to me. He gave me a
great deal of trouble -- but there, let bygones be
bygones! . . . You see, it is true enough, there
are people like that, fated from birth to have all