Chapter 11A crowd was awaiting us at the fortress gate. Carefully we carried the wounded girl to Pechorin’s quarters, and then we sent for the doctor. The latter was drunk, but he came, examined the wound, and announced that she could not live more than a day. He was mistaken, though.”
“She recovered?” I asked the staff-captain, seizing him by the arm, and involuntarily rejoicing.
“No,” he replied, “but the doctor was so far mistaken that she lived two days longer.”
“Explain, though, how Kazbich made off with her!”
“It was like this: in spite of Pechorin’s prohibition, she went out of the fortress and down to the river. It was a very hot day, you know, and she sat on a rock and dipped her feet in the water. Up crept Kazbich, pounced upon her, silenced her, and dragged her into the bush
