Chapter III
The farther Olenin travelled from Central Russia the farther he lefthis memories behind, and the nearer he drew to the Caucasus the lighterhis heart became. "I'll stay away for good and never return to showmyself in society," was a thought that sometimes occurred to him."These people whom I see here are NOT people. None of them know me andnone of them can ever enter the Moscow society I was in or find outabout my past. And no one in that society will ever know what I amdoing, living among these people." And quite a new feeling of freedomfrom his whole past came over him among the rough beings he met on theroad whom he did not consider to be PEOPLE in the sense that his Moscowacquaintances were. The rougher the people and the fewer the signs ofcivilization the freer he felt. Stavropol, through which he had topass, irked him. The signboards, some of them even in French, ladies incarriages, cabs in the marketplace, and a gentleman wearing a fur cloakand tall hat who was walking along the boulevard and staring at thepassersby, quite upset him. "Perhaps these people know some of myacquaintances," he thought; and the club, his tailor, cards, society... came back to his mind. But after Stavropol everything wassatisfactory--wild and also beautiful and warlike, and Olenin felthappier and happier. All the Cossacks, post-boys, and post-stationmasters seemed to him simple folk with whom he could jest and conversesimply, without having to consider to what class they belonged. Theyall belonged to the human race which, without his thinking about it,all appeared dear to Olenin, and they all treated him in a friendly way.
Already in the province of the Don Cossacks his sledge had beenexchanged for a cart, and beyond Stavropol it became so warm thatOlenin travelled without wearing his fur coat. It was alreadyspring--an unexpected joyous spring for Olenin. At night he was nolonger allowed to leave the Cossack villages, and they said it wasdangerous to travel in the evening. Vanyusha began to be uneasy, andthey carried a loaded gun in the cart. Olenin became still happier. Atone of the post-stations the post-master told of a terrible murder thathad been committed recently on the high road. They began to meet armedmen. "So this is where it begins!" thought Olenin, and kept expectingto see the snowy mountains of which mention was so often made. Once,towards evening, the Nogay driver pointed with his whip to themountains shrouded in clouds. Olenin looked eagerly, but it was dulland the mountains were almost hidden by the clouds. Olenin made outsomething grey and white and fleecy, but try as he would he could findnothing beautiful in the mountains of which he had so often read andheard. The mountains and the clouds appeared to him quite alike, and hethought the special beauty of the snow peaks, of which he had so oftenbeen told, was as much an invention as Bach's music and the love ofwomen, in which he did not believe. So he gave up looking forward toseeing the mountains. But early next morning, being awakened in hiscart by the freshness of the air, he glanced carelessly to the right.The morning was perfectly clear. Suddenly he saw, about twenty pacesaway as it seemed to him at first glance, pure white gigantic masseswith delicate contours, the distinct fantastic outlines of theirsummits showing sharply against the far-off sky. When he had realizedthe distance between himself and them and the sky and the wholeimmensity of the mountains, and felt the infinitude of all that beauty,he became afraid that it was but a phantasm or a dream. He gave himselfa shake to rouse himself, but the mountains were still the same.
"What's that! What is it?" he said to the driver.
"Why, the mountains," answered the Nogay driver with indifference.
"And I too have been looking at them for a long while," said Vanyusha."Aren't they fine? They won't believe it at home."
The quick progress of the three-horsed cart along the smooth roadcaused the mountains to appear to be running along the horizon, whiletheir rosy crests glittered in the light of the rising sun. At firstOlenin was only astonished at the sight, then gladdened by it; butlater on, gazing more and more intently at that snow-peaked chain thatseemed to rise not from among other black mountains, but straight outof the plain, and to glide away into the distance, he began by slowdegrees to be penetrated by their beauty and at length to FEEL themountains. From that moment all he saw, all he thought, and all hefelt, acquired for him a new character, sternly majestic like themountains! All his Moscow reminiscences, shame, and repentance, and histrivial dreams about the Caucasus, vanished and did not return. 'Now ithas begun,' a solemn voice seemed to say to him. The road and theTerek, just becoming visible in the distance, and the Cossack villagesand the people, all no longer appeared to him as a joke. He looked athimself or Vanyusha, and again thought of the mountains. ... TwoCossacks ride by, their guns in their cases swinging rhythmicallybehind their backs, the white and bay legs of their horses minglingconfusedly ... and the mountains! Beyond the Terek rises the smoke froma Tartar village... and the mountains! The sun has risen and glitterson the Terek, now visible beyond the reeds ... and the mountains! Fromthe village comes a Tartar wagon, and women, beautiful young women,pass by... and the mountains! 'Abreks canter about the plain, and heream I driving along and do not fear them! I have a gun, and strength,and youth... and the mountains!'